“Once we were finally able to catch the Swallow, we saw you fighting for your life, and . . . well, you know how you ended up.” He shrugged, and lifted a brow. “You’ve been healing quite well, I assume?” At her nod, he continued, “But, you’ve been well cared for, from the moment you hit that deck, and every day of your fever.”
“Yes, Patchey has been very helpful. I do appreciate the old bugger, although he really has been a bear about my healing regimen.”
“Well, yes, Patchey had originally cauterized and sealed your wound. You’ll have quite the battle scar to show for that bit of business.” His eyes met hers, and she could swear there was a hint of chagrin there. “But no, he hadn’t stayed by your side, day and night, watching you nearly die from blood loss and thrashing with fever. No, not Patchey, my dear. It was one of my passengers, you see . . . Blackhurst.”
The blood drained from her face. Joy threaded her veins, followed by terror.
”Is Addison on the ship, Bartholomew?” Another thought struck her, he knew. He knew she had been a rough, unmentionable, filthy pirate.
Roberts placed his hand on top of hers. “You do not wish to see him. I will keep him from you.”
“Does he know, Bartholomew? That . . . that I’m a pirate?” He’d never love her now, but it no longer mattered. She would have to leave everyone she loved behind. The Dobisons of the world would always find a way to find a wanted poster.
“I’m afraid so, Anne. I had to explain all to him.” He gave her a crooked smile. “He’s not so bad, that lord. He was searching for you in the tavern, and was one of the reasons I decided to help find you.”
She nodded, unable to stop the lump that formed in her throat. He must detest everything about her, now. She tried to tell him she was no lady, but now . . .
He knew.
Once again, she regretted the life she’d led up to this point. She’d allowed her son to be brought up in Cuba without the love of his mother. Her father had to have wondered if she lived or died while she had been gone. She’d stolen from ships and people. Not a worthy profession or character by any means. She had truly wanted to put that life behind her, once Raphael had led her away from her prison cell.
Addison must feel nothing but disgust for the pirate he had been about to marry.
The clearing of a throat snapped her to the present.
She sighed, giving in to the disgust she felt for her actions. “I suppose my attempts to remain a widow will not be needed. He’ll never marry me now.”
A wry smile curved her friend’s lips. “You were trying to remain a widow?”
“Aye. My father ordered me to marry Lord Blackhurst and be a respectable citizen or lose my son forever. So, I tried to force Addison to call off the wedding.” A rush of heat filled her limbs remembering her failed attempts and how they ended, with her crying out in ecstasy. “It hadn’t really been working, but finding out about my past should do the trick. I’ll be glad to be rid of him.”
A look of disbelief crossed his features, and he studied her intently as he leaned back from the chair. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”
Clever. Bartholomew Roberts was not a successful pirate by appearing stupid. He reached his hand to rest upon hers again, giving it a squeeze. “It’s ok to love him, Annie.”
To her embarrassment, tears pricked her eyes, blurring his large form before her. She let out a breath, a small laugh escaping. “I’ve always been a terrible liar.”
Tenderness filled his dark eyes. “But, a good pirate. I’m happy that you survived, my dear. Now, I must return to the helm.” He stood and gave her a mock bow. “I shall send up the lads with a bath for you, and return for a visit on the morrow.”
She nodded through tears she allowed to flow from her eyes. “Thank you, Bartholomew. You are a true friend. Bartholomew?”
He turned before his exit. “Yes, Annie?”
“Is he here? Is he . . . unharmed?” She controlled the tremor creeping into her throat.
“He is as healthy as a horse.” He exited the cabin, without answering the question she’d posed to him twice, leaving her door standing open by the aid of a heavy piece of iron stopped at the bottom. Jones gave her a sheepish grin, and strode off down the corridor. She supposed her confinement was officially over, but she’d await that bath before venturing onto the deck.
The lump in her throat remained at the prospect of Addison being so close to her. Why hadn’t he come to see her once she’d awakened? The thought of bedding, or worse, marrying, a pirate must be abhorrent to him. Disgust probably kept him away.
While he most certainly would never consider keeping his contract with her father now, she would speak with him about watching over her children. She would even marry him so that her father would keep his end of the deal, and agree to disappear for good so he would not need worry being married to a pirate. A marriage in name only. She’d done that before.
But, she’d not been in love the first time.
By the time she determined to demand Addison fulfill his contract with her father, if only for her children, five lads had positioned a large tub in her room, and promptly filled it with many buckets of steaming water.
She poured a lavender-scented oil she’d found near the washstand, down into the inviting depths of steam, relishing a bath and the ease of her muscles. She must look a terrible fright with her hair all twisted about her head, the ill-fitting blouse hanging from her body, and all the bruises marring her arms and legs. Yes, she’d find a new blouse, insist one of the men provide her a pair of breeches, and ask to borrow Bartholomew’s brush and a ribbon.
Then, she’d speak with Addison.
“You resemble a street urchin instead of a pirate.”
The deep, silken resonance of his voice sent a shiver up her spine, and a fierce thump to her heart.
She’d forgotten to shut the door.
Chapter 30
How any woman could ignite such lust and fire and heartrending love within him while in another man’s shirt was beyond him.
And yet, Anne standing with her back to him, the buff-colored shirt billowing about her, hanging to just above her knees, and hair as wild as he’d ever seen it, made his heart thunder. She was alive and whole—bruised all over with a hole above her breast—but alive. And, she was his.
Addison refused to allow her anger over his contract with her father. Perhaps none of that mattered now. Who cared that she had been one of the most notorious pirates of this century? The nurturing and care she’d given her children, and the easy camaraderie she’d exhibited with his servants and workers . . . surely she was ready to put all the treasure hunting in her past.
The sound of his voice had made her shoulders straighten and her head to raise an inch. Ever the stubborn pirate queen.
Scratches and bruises were still visible on the backs of her arms and elegantly shaped calves.
“There are no lady’s maids on a pirate ship. Or, gowns for that matter.” There was a steady tone to her voice as she turned to face him. “But, not being a lady, it was not something that was required.”
She was not angry, of that he was certain. Of course, there were no objects nearby for her to toss at his head.
What she was—was absolutely breathtaking, bruises be damned. From the disheveled hair and slightly tilted eyes with long lashes to the still-yellowed cheek and ruby-red, full lips, and the sparkle of her emerald eyes . . . she moved him.
Her full, rounded breasts were outlined in the shirt; the nipples pressing against the material as if longing for his touch. A familiar surge of heat swept his body to rest directly in the pulse in his breeches.
“Aye, you have a point. Your father mentioned a past, but I had no idea.”
She fisted her hands at her sides. “He gave me no choices, only demands to m
arry a stranger. To be someone I find it rather hard to be.”
“And, who would that be?”
“A lord’s wife. A wife, period. I find it is not something of which I’ve been particularly good at in the past.”
Addison turned to reach for the door. “Or, is it being obedient to your husband the part you find you’re not particularly good at?” He pushed it closed and latched the bolt with a small click. An offended huff sounded behind him, and he hid a smile at her temper.
He schooled his features to mask the amusement on his face before turning back to her. To further irritate her, he raised a brow seeking an answer to his question.
Anne’s fists rested upon her hips, cinching the shirt in and emphasizing the curve of her hips. Two pink patches lit up each cheek. “What am I, a dog? No, I’ll never be obedient.”
Giving her a good frown, he stepped toward her with the slow precision that would have lesser men running from his presence. She stood rooted to the floor.
The emerald of her eyes deepened as the whites surrounding those deep pools grew larger. “What are you doing? Why did you bolt the door?”
Stopped before her, he remembered the way her arms trembled as one of the pirate crew slashed down with his blade. How his heart stopped when Dobison stabbed her, viciously. “I know now why you were such a successful pirate. You were quite magnificent with that blade. So brave.” He reached out to run a finger softy down her wounded arm. “Now, you are stiff and still in pain. You should relax in the bath.”
“Aye, which is precisely what I was about before you interrupted me.”
The shudder of her body was not lost on him as he ran his other hand along the exposed hollow of her throat. “You were about to bathe with the door open.”
“I was about to close it. Now, I would like to bathe while the water is still hot.”
The tie between her breasts came undone easily with a twist of his fingers. The thick pulse of blood roaring through his veins at her nearness made his mouth dry. “An excellent idea.”
The logical thing to do was kiss her, and so he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her soft, plump ones. He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her in as his tongue slipped between her lips.
Obedience be damned, and she did not fight him; merely melted into him with a sigh on her lips. The kiss was endless and he lost himself in the feel of her against him, in him. He felt as if the room would suddenly burst into flames and he’d have to use the bathwater to put them out.
Leaning back, he looked down into her upturned face, her eyes still closed and lashes brushing her cheeks. “Let me help you.” Before allowing her to protest, he loosened his arm from her, and grasped the hem of her shirt in both hands. It came up over her head slowly so as not to cause her pain.
Agony. That was the word for glimpsing her shapely thighs, the red patch between her legs, her flat stomach, and full, nipple-hardened breasts, ever so slowly.
“Bloody hell, even with those marks, you’re beautiful.”
The shirt hit the floor at their feet. The deep green pools of her eyes were glassy as if she’d been dazed. The thump of his heart and the one lower were in tune as he stared down at her.
Before she could speak, he reached forward and hauled her up into his arms. “Shhhh. Let me help you into the tub.” Her lips clamped shut, but she wrapped her arms about his neck.
The smell of lavender overpowered any other smell in the room; intoxicating and seductive. Anne fit perfectly into the curve of his body, as if she were meant to be there. A wholeness filled his heart as he stepped forward and lowered her tenderly into the tub.
“If you could hand me the cloth over there . . .?” Water sloshed as she pointed to the washstand.
Running a hand through his hair, he tore his eyes away from her breasts, the nipples just skimming the top of the water, and strode to the cloth. The hardness in his breeches made walking properly difficult.
He returned to her with a smile, dipping the cloth in the tub near her leg. She tried to snatch it from him, but he deftly maneuvered it from her grasp, tsking. “No, no. I want to do it.”
“Whatever for? I can bloody well wash myself.” She swallowed and a blush crept up her face.
“That is certainly no fun.” To show her, he soaped the cloth and swirled it along her shoulder and ran it down over the swell of one breast.
The pupils of her eyes dilated as she stared into his eyes, parting her lips when the cloth circled her nipple. It puckered instantly, along with the other nipple.
“Certainly does not feel that way when I do it.” She was breathless.
He chuckled, returning the cloth for another good soaping before running the material along her neck and her other arm, making sure to be careful about the wound. Addison leaned forward, pressing his mouth onto hers, opening her while the cloth stroked down her stomach.
A moan escaped her as the roughness of the cloth swirled about her nether curls, over and over. Somewhere along the way, he lost the piece of fabric in the tub, but his fingers quickly made up for its absence; slicing through the water to enter her slick folds. He continued to lean over the tub and kiss her passionately, his tongue thrusting with each penetration of his fingers below. Anne had one hand at his nape, her fingers curled into his hair, and the other, lightly resting upon the forearm that disappeared beneath the water.
Fire pumped through him as her moans urged him to a faster pace until he felt her convulse around his finger, her cry of pleasure escaping into their open-mouthed kiss.
“To hell with your bath,” he growled into her mouth. He reached down and scooped her wet body from the tub, water drenching his breeches, shirt, and the floor. Not giving a damn, he stomped over to the bed to lay her gingerly onto the mattress.
A dazed pair of emerald eyes stared back at him. “To hell with your clothes.” The husky tone of her voice nearly unmanned him in his breeches. She sat up and placed her hand upon his shirt, helping him with her good arm to disrobe.
He’d never undressed faster in his life.
Pushing her back with a gentle nudge, he glided his body up and between her legs; his arms on either side of her head and his knees pressed between her legs as he smiled down at her.
“Does this pain you?” He had no desire to add to her discomfort.
She shook her head, her eyes filled with uncertainty and desire. She bit down on her bottom lip, making one side fat and delectable.
Did she wonder if he would still want to marry her? Before he told her the truth, he’d kiss her senseless.
And, that is what he did, not coming up for air until they were both panting as he rubbed his pelvis against the fur nestled between her legs. But, he didn’t want to enter her until she knew his heart.
He pulled back to look down upon her, her eyes closed in anticipation of that first delicious plunge.
The sweet pleasure only Addison could deliver was moments away, and Anne could not have asked for a more tender and passionate fire sweeping her body. How she loved this man.
She kept her eyes closed, waiting with the excitement of a pirate about to uncover the treasure of her career.
“Anne Bonny?” Addison’s husky, sweet voice had her eyes flying open to find his silvery-gray gaze.
Oh God. He would be giving her his disgust now, she supposed.
Unable to keep the guilt from entering her voice, she responded, “Aye?”
“I nearly leapt from a ship into the sea to reach you.”
Intense eyes gazed down. She fumbled for words to apologize for nearly causing him harm. “I—.”
“—I refuse to think what would have happened had Roberts not slit Dobison’s throat. Having said that, I am sorry.” He did not sound the least apologetic, but adamant.
Truly, she wished she coul
d erase that part of her life, but it had brought her the children, a handful of true friends, and even an English lord whom she could not fathom living without.
Tears threatened to form and she could not stop the catch in her voice. “I am sorry, too. But, it’s for the best you learned the truth.”
“Aye. I’m sorry, but—” A determined gleam entered the silver orbs that lingered above her.
She held her breath on his hesitance to finish. “—but you’ll have to report me to authorities now? Take me back to Port Royal?” It was a stab in her heart to even think it, but she’d resolved herself to it while with Dobison.
“But, I’ll have to have you back to Cranford Hall.” There was a distinct edge to his voice.
“What? I don’t think that’s a good idea. My past . . .” They would all be prey to anyone trying to claim a reward.
“You’ll have to.” He stated it as if it were a fact of life.
Suspicious of this line of talk, she frowned at him. “Why?”
“Because . . . I need you.” His lips suddenly parted into a dashing and heart-melting smile, the kind she suspected had captured many a lady’s heart, especially hers. And yet, it was different. A tenderness lingered in his eyes.
“But, I’m a pirate.” Tears formed to blur her vision of him above her. How could it be?
“I know.” He placed a quick kiss to the end of her nose. “But, you’re my pirate.”
“What . . .? The grin did not ease from his beautiful face, and the wetness dripped from the corners of her eyes.
“I love you.” No words had so much power or force to make her tremble with happiness; and more so with the tender, almost angelic smile he gave her.
“You love me?” She felt weightless, and giddy, and wonderfully full—but still uncertain.
My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) Page 26