His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1)

by Mathews, Marly

  “Ah, but you shall not.” His voice held a hint of impatience, and his eyes were glinting with what seemed to be pent up anger, or frustration. Seeking to change the subject at hand, she walked over to the bulwarks, and leaned over to catch some more of the sea breeze. To her unending disappointment, she noticed that he had followed her.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She kept her answers brief, and wished with all of her might that some unforeseen calamity would occur that would require his attention.

  “If you could not sleep, you should have just awakened me, for I could have entertained you with a grand show.”

  “Oh, go on. You are too much, Rafe,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Rounding on him, she looked up at him. “You should be spending time with your child.”

  “I don’t even know if that little heathen is mine. I wouldn’t say I was the only man that Chastity invited into her bed. To be sure, that poor boy could have numerous prospective fathers to choose from.”

  “Aye, I understand that. But look at him! He obviously needs a guiding hand.”

  “Did you require a guiding hand once your mother died?”

  “I had my grandfather…and for his part, my father made sure I wanted for nothing. My aunt played the role of mother pretty well until my grandfather died, and left me part of the inheritance she believed should have belonged to her son, at which point her theatrics ended.”

  “Your grandmother was a St. Martin, was she not?”

  “How did you know that?” Her voice fell to the barest of whispers and she leaned forward. “And my grandmother married into the Drake family. She made a good match, and she loved my grandfather. I only vaguely recall her…she died when I was very young. Before she became ill, she and my grandpapa made the voyage across the pond to see me. She said I was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. She was very kind, and had a gentle nature. But you know an awful lot about me, while I know almost nothing about you.”

  “I do my research,” he said carelessly, shrugging his shoulders. “I found out all that I needed to. I do happen to know that the St. Martin Family is one the greatest noble families that have ever graced England’s shores.”

  “I take it that you had a fancy for one of the St. Martin sisters?”

  She was unprepared for the snorting and coughing jag that followed her question. He kept coughing until she whacked him a few times across the back.

  “You could say that,” he said hoarsely, wiping tears out of the corner of his eyes. “Though I daresay, I’ve never had any carnal desires for them.”

  “Ah, I see. Far out of your class, then,” he coughed again, and had to lean over the rail to catch his breath.

  “Yes, they are far too good for the likes of me,” he said honestly, staring up at her with shining blue eyes. She smiled at him, as her heart melted. He was carrying her away again and if she wasn’t careful, he would have her tucked back into his bed, so quickly, it would make her head spin.

  “If you don’t think that Charles is your son, what will you do with him?”

  “Well, if he wishes it, he can have a permanent placement aboard my ship. But if he doesn’t, he may go his own way.”

  “Why do you think that Charles is not your son?” She had to ask the question, for she could not help herself. She still sympathized with Charles because she did not want to see him turned out into the cold.

  “I do not think the child is mine, because I have not been intimate with Chastity for eight years.”

  “Then, we must find out how old Charles is. He certainly doesn’t look any older than eight, even though he sometimes behaves like a rascal of twelve, or thirteen.”

  “Chastity’s life probably forced him to grow up before his time,” Rafe mused. For being a pirate and a man without any money to his name all of his life, he certainly did have good teeth, and his skin was not sallow in the least bit. “I am accustomed to seeing lads his age, as callow-eyed youths that don’t know the bow of the boat from the stern. But that young one, he probably knows as much as an old salt.”

  “It is a sad thing, indeed,” Elizabeth sighed. She hated to see people that were robbed of their childhoods. She turned back to stare out to sea, when a loud whistle filled her ears. Fighting the impulse to cover them, she whirled around, just in time to see Rafe wrench the pipe out of Charles’s hand.

  “Where did you get a hold of this you, little scamp?”

  “I found it.” Charles grinned, and made Elizabeth furrow her brow.

  “Have you eaten yet, Charles?”

  “I gave him some ship’s biscuit,” Seamus butted in, scowling down at Charles. At Elizabeth’s horrified gasp, Seamus sighed, and grunted. “It was the Captain’s orders. We all know what happens when you don’t follow the Captain’s orders.”

  “Aye, we do, but I for one, am someone that shall pay them no mind. Charles, are you still hungry?” she asked, extending her hand so that he could place his little hand into it.

  “Aye, I am,” he said sweetly, smiling up at her. Her heart melted again.

  “Then, my boy, you shall have a full breakfast. Seamus, make the lad what you made the Captain and I this morning.”

  “Captain?” Seamus asked, seemingly exasperated to his wits end.

  Rafe seemed as if he were about to blow a gasket, but he kept his composure, just barely. Sighing heavily, he crossed his arms, and nodded his head.

  “Ethan, will you take Charles down to the galley?”

  “I know me own way,” Charles said brightly.

  “No doubt that you do, but nonetheless, I shall require that you have an escort.”

  “Fine, but tell him to not get in my way.” Charles went running ahead of Ethan, while Ethan tried to keep up the pace.

  “What the hell was that about?” Rafe asked, sending icy daggers her way.

  “I wanted the lad to a have a decent meal in his stomach.”

  “He had a filling meal in his gut!” Rafe raged, walking down to the stern. “Has it ever entered your pea sized brain that maybe, just maybe that little scalawag has been placed on this ship as a spy?”

  She snorted, and then rolled her eyes. “Whoever would come up with such a ludicrous notion?”

  “Me.” Rafe served her with a disgusted glare. “We still aren’t in the all clear, you know, little miss. We could meet back up with Antonio at any point in time, before we reach safe harbour.”

  “Speaking of safe harbour, you shall have to run your true colours once we reach British waters.”

  “Those, miss, are my true colours.”

  “You know what I mean, you had better run the…”

  “Aye, I know. Do not worry, I shall run the colours of my homeland. Now, my little miss, I know that you tried to dance around the issue at hand. But you will not dissuade me. The little scamp shall remain under watch.”

  “Why? Just so that you can throw away your own child, under the pretence that he’s a spy?”

  “I would never discard my own child so carelessly. But I have my own reasons to suspect that Chastity has not borne my son.”

  “And what are those reasons?”

  “If she had truly fallen pregnant with my babe, I feel quite certain she would have wanted to publicly announce it.”

  “For what means? It isn’t as if you have any money, and you aren’t a public figurehead of any kind.” The deck had become eerily still. “You are just a troublesome pirate that has nothing but your reputation.”

  “I am known as someone much different in England.”

  Ethan interrupted his words, before he could go any further. But her interest was piqued. So, what kind of a man was he in England? He’d probably been no more than a wanted criminal. Perhaps, he’d been a highwayman.

  Elizabeth sighed heavily, and turned away from them.

  “The boy, he’s fallen ill,” Ethan whispered.

  Elizabeth turned around, and swallowed thickly. “What do you mean sick?”

>   “He’s retching all over the place.”

  “Get him to my cabin. Now!” she ordered. Lifting her skirt, she ran toward the companionway, nearly skidding on a wet patch of flooring. “Bring me some cool cloths and some boiled water, right away!” she called out, once she had reached the cabin.

  “What is it, do you think?” Rafe stood by the foot of the bed, and the frantic look on his face belied the fact that he was actually concerned for Charles. Despite all his blustering, he had the heart of a saint.

  She gasped, as she suddenly remembered a story that one of her governesses had told her. During the war, there was a Royal Navy ship that had been told to go into quarantine because they had come in contact with an outbreak of the Black Death. The Captain’s foolishness concerning said quarantine, nearly endangered the entire fleet.

  “Would Chastity oblige by quarantine rules?” Her stomach plummeted as she considered the type of illness that the boy might be battling.

  “Damn it all.” Rafe’s eyes were filled with understanding, and he looked about ready to break something. On the upside, she would not have to explain to him what her fears were. “I doubt it.” Rafe’s eyes glinted with fire.

  “I don’t know what Charles has, but he’s raging with fever. Rafe, it could be…”

  “I know what it could be. I will summon the ship’s surgeon immediately.”

  “Captain, the Doc, well, he…” Ethan looked apprehensive.

  “He’s drunk as a wheelbarrow, isn’t he?” Rafe asked.

  “Oh, he’s three sheets to the wind, sir. He finished patching the men up, and then, well, he got into the rum.”

  “Bloody hell,” Rafe sighed heavily, raking his hand through his hair. “I knew he was an elbow-crooker when I took him on,” he sighed. “I should have expected this.”

  “Wait, Rafe,” she murmured.

  Skimming her hands over the boy’s body, she stopped when he moaned. Lifting the light cotton that he wore, she peeked underneath. “Good lord, look Rafe!”

  “That would be an infected gash.” He hovered so close to her that she could feel the strength and warmth emanating from him.

  “Aye, now I know what has caused the fever. If I do not draw out the poison, he may die. We don’t have the time to wait until the doctor sobers up. Help me to take his shirt off.”

  Rafe added his help by lifting Charles, while she slipped the shirt over his head.

  “This is very interesting,” Rafe said, motioning toward a weirdly shaped birthmark, on Charles’s left shoulder.

  “It’s nothing but a birthmark,” she said, not investing any more time into it. She did not have the time to waste on inspecting such trivial matters.

  Long ago, when a child had been born with a birthmark, it had been seen as a mark of the devil but now, no such ideas of idiocy were to be had. At least, not in any of the circles that she frequented.

  “Aye, but a birthmark could tell you a great deal about a person, don’t you think?” She met his gaze, and recognized the thoughtful glint in his eyes.

  “I suppose,” she said, she was so distracted that she barely even noticed him move away from the bed, and stand to gaze out the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Rafe, I told you that I needed some help,” she said impatiently, and she felt like walking over to him, and swatting him soundly.

  She regarded him fervently, and was surprised even more when he turned around with a boyish grin plastered across his features. His eyes were lit with nothing but relief. He seemed ten years younger already, and there was a spring to his step that she found disconcerting.

  “Have you finally decided to absolve yourself, and tell me your true identity and past?”

  “Give me some more time,” he swallowed, and then smiled again. “Yet, I do have a discovery to tell you about, and it has nothing at all to do with my past. Let us get this boy into calm waters before we talk any further.”

  “Yes, but I can hardly take the suspense. You must tell me, now.” Her hands tended to Charles’s wound in an effortless easy manner, and she could see that Rafe followed her every move.

  “I know Charles’s sire.” She stopped midway, and licked her lips.

  “I don’t follow. I thought you were his father?”

  “Did I not tell you time and again I highly doubted that confession of Chastity’s?”

  “Aye, you did.” She had finally managed to draw out the whole poison, and she was wrapping the bandage around it as he spoke.

  “I am not his father, but you know his true father well and good.”

  “Well, tell me who it is,” she prompted.

  Charles awoke for a brief moment and stared wildly around him. “Charles Phillip, do not handle that rope that way,” he cried out, in a relatively good imitation of Chastity’s voice.

  All of the life drained out of Elizabeth, and she had to lean on the mattress for support. Her mind reeled, and she now felt as if she were about to retch. This could not be!

  “Oh, my God. Don’t tell me. I already know.”

  “How would you know? I know only because of the birthmark.” He scrunched his face up into a confused expression, and she nearly blurted out the whole truth about her secret identity as a man. She only assumed the identity of Evan Beaumont when she wanted to gain access to White’s or one of the more popular gaming hells.

  “Let’s just say that it’s woman’s intuition.” She plopped down on the side of the bed, and groaned. “This does not bode well.”

  “Aye, when that sad imitation for a Spanish Don discovers that we have his brat, he will be ready to tan our hides.” He ran his hand through his blond waves, and when he was finished they were more wayward than they had been before. He looked like a little boy. A little boy who anticipated a monster beneath his bed.

  “Do you think Phillip knows?” She did not want to jump to conclusions. But if Phillip knew…well, they would be in for a world of trouble that they certainly did not need.

  “You mean, Antonio,” Rafe said, shaking his head. “I would suspect, though I daresay that if he does not, he soon will. Chastity has probably already told him the whole sordid incident. She was always a woman that had a forked and well-greased tongue.”

  “Why would she claim Charles to be yours, when he wasn’t?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea of knowing such a ridiculously manipulative woman.

  “Because, my dear, as I’ve already tried telling you, I have something that both Chastity and Antonio have always secretly coveted.”

  “And what would that be? A lost Aztec treasure, perhaps?”

  “No, you silly goose. I have a title.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she nearly fell off of the mattress.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Now he had gone and done it! Mallory’s goose was cooked, and there was no getting over it. But to his chagrin and surprise, Elizabeth started to laugh. It started off as a small hesitant sound, and then turned into something that echoed off of the walls.

  “I know that you hold a title, you buffoon! No doubt in England you are known and revered as The Clever Corsair.”

  She was doubled over now, and Mallory frowned. He wasn’t entirely sure that he liked her flippancy, concerning such a serious matter.

  “It is true. I am a titled English nobleman.”

  She stopped laughing long enough to let out a few hiccups. “Oh, Rafe, you are too much!”

  “I told you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said storming over to kneel in front of her. “I am not in jest.”

  “What are you The Baron of Thievery?” her face was turning red, and he feared that she was about to suffocate herself from lack of air. Gripping her shoulders, he shook her just enough to catch her attention.

  Her laughter died away, and she took her finger and traced it along his jaw line. He shivered and felt himself melting at her touch. She was like bloody opium, for God’s sake. He did not know if he would ever get over his insatiable hunger for her. Her sh
erry brown eyes were filled with tears, and she was smiling so widely it nearly encompassed her entire face.

  “I am not the Baron of anything.” His voice came out more a growl than a grumble, and she arched her eyebrows in surprise.

  “Were you knighted for services to the Crown? Ah, now I see. You were given a knighthood for your heroism at Trafalgar. I am sorry. I should have guessed sooner.” He was holding his head now and staring up at her in incredulous amazement. “So what do I call you now?”

  “Mallory,” he murmured, hoping that she would recognize his name. He was well thought of throughout the haut ton, and he suspected that she might have a glimmer of an idea as to who he was. He was sick and tired of her calling him Rafe. When he made love to her, she always called out the name Rafe, and it made him want to throw up.

  “Sir Malory, as in Sir Thomas Malory? Oh, now that is a good one.” That sound of derisive laughter was present in her voice again, and it grated against his nerves.

  “My name has two l’s in it,” he muttered, closing his eyes against the smirk that played at her lips.

  “I do not mean to make light of your title. It must have been a grand day for you, when you were awarded such an honour. Now, I understand why you were at the masquerade ball, where we first met. I had just believed that you had sneaked in intent on finding a willing lady to warm your bed.”

  “I was there under invitation.”

  “Oh, of course you were.” He looked up just in time to see her roll her eyes heavenward.

  He was getting very tired of her patronizing attitude. Just because he had kidnapped her, intent on ruining her, and using her money, didn’t mean that he came from a pauper background. If she knew the sort of grand legacy that he hailed from, her mouth would hit the floor.

  “Pray from now on call me, Mallory.” He would ask that much of her. After all, once they exchanged their vows, he could hardly have her calling him Rafe.

  “But the name Rafe seems to suit you so much better.” She had sobered up enough now to stare at him without smirking.

  “It is not my Christian name.” He stood up, and put a fairly large distance between them.