Trethewey’s hostility hit him keenly as he regarded the large stone manor with its circular drive, east and west wings jutting forward like arms. Except he wouldn’t be welcome here. Trethewey’s cold, beveled glass windows said so as they gazed upon him, snubbing their noses below highborn chimneys. It was an imposing home with its front door extended like the pertinent nose of an ennobled man set to put down his betters.
“You were raised here?” Wolf asked, trying to contain his hatred for the place.
“Aye.” She nodded, a look of sadness misting her eyes. “My entire life.”
“I had not put much thought to the idea that you came from such a manor.” Her frown told him he’d hit a nerve. “I don’t mean to insult you, Selina.” He took a deep breath and tried to express himself more articulately. “It’s always been clear to me that you came from wealthy stock, but as your father is a merchant, I hadn’t pictured a home of this magnitude.”
“I see.” But she couldn’t. She had no idea what the very existence of this home did to him inside. He didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to remember the things this house would reveal to him. He’d earned a dangerous living at sea; he was not meant to muddy Trethewey’s halls. There was no place for a man of his worth here, and he suspected her father would make sure Wolf knew it. A man who went to the trouble to flaunt his wealth in such a manner was a man who’d do anything to retain it.
Selina’s thigh touched his as she reined her mount close and laid her hand over his, igniting a tremor of desire that shot clean through to his bones. “I do not agree with Papa on most everything, Wolf. I beg of you, pay no attention to what he does or says. You saved my life. You brought me home. No one else. And here is not where I intend to stay. I will find Owen. That is my solemn vow. And it’s my hope that you and your crew will help me do it.”
“You know that’s impossible.” He ground his teeth, hating the savage urgency that coursed through his veins to do that very thing. But Selina knew he was needed elsewhere.
“If Owen hasn’t returned home yet, Papa will provide the resources we need.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He shook his head and pulled his hand away, neck-reining his mount to put distance between them. “Selina, if I help you, I’ll have to desert the people depending on me in London.”
“Yes, I know.” She bit her lip, drawing his attention there. He suddenly desired another taste of her. “But—”
“It’s time to reunite you with your father,” he said, walking his horse toward the gravel drive that curved around the front entrance of the manse.
Rocks crunched beneath the horses’ hooves as they traversed the road. The drive had obviously been built wide enough to handle several coaches rumbling round at the same time.
Wolf coaxed his horse to a stop. He whipped his leather coat over his hip and then dismounted, his boots landing unevenly on the drive. As he waited for Selina to join him, he cut a quick glance to the landscape they’d left behind, the impressive and unspoiled view of green lawn and stable yards another shock to his system.
His throat constricted. Trethewey was indeed a beautiful place, and there was a normalcy about it that he’d been denied. What made Selina so determined to refuse its safety? A person would have to be out of their mind not to want to be a part of their own family’s life.
Shaking his head, Wolf started as Selina stepped beside him and a cacophony of barking dogs rent the air. They both turned, witnessing a spectacle he’d only heard Lords Bateman, Thorston, Hartland, and St. Peter discuss over brandy.
Twenty large dogs—English Pointers and liver-colored, curly-haired ones Wolf had never seen before—scurried across the lawn and over the graveled drive, barking loudly, their short, beesting tails at an angle.
Selina stooped to welcome the hunters with open arms, cooing and clucking her tongue to draw the canines closer. About ten of them stopped short, six feet from Wolf, growling and baring their teeth.
Wolf broadened his stance and stared down the animals, growling low in the back of his throat. He was a hunter, too, and he didn’t intend to let these mongrels intimidate him.
Selina clapped her hands. One by one the hounds broke off, shying away, whining strangely until all but one focused on her. The last one turned and raced across the green as thundering hooves announced several riders approaching.
Wolf stepped in front of Selina, shoving his greatcoat to one side so he could reach the pistols shoved into his trousers. He’d be damned if he’d come all this way to lose the woman now.
One of the two men had several braces of fowl draped over his saddle. Both men sneered.
“Get off my property!” the elder man shouted.
The hounds scurried as if Beelzebub was after them.
Wolf wrapped his fingers slowly around the pistol handle.
Selina’s feet scooted across the pebbles as she rose. She moved around him, placing her hand on his arm. “No, Wolf.” She stepped in front of Wolf, putting him behind her, as if she could make him disappear.
“Selina?” the elder man said, standing in his saddle. He looked her up and down, his mouth quirking. “Is that you?” He gestured to his companion, smiling broadly. “I cannot believe it, my lord. Look! She’s home, and she’s quite alive!”
Something felt off about the man’s excitement, as if he didn’t care about Selina at all but only what the man beside him could provide. This man must be her father.
Wolf regarded the younger man, who was staring at him from his perch. Her betrothed, perhaps?
Mr. Herding slid nimbly to the ground and hurried toward them. “Let me look at you,” he said, grasping Selina’s head. “Where is your beautiful hair, child?”
No happy words that Selina was still alive?
“I cut it, Papa.”
“Whatever for? You look like a street urchin begging for coin.” He turned her around to inspect her top to bottom. “And where did you get these rags? A lady should not be seen in trousers.” He turned to his hunting companion. “Lord Gariland, I beg you to forgive her behavior. I’ve scolded her about her hoydenish ways time and again.”
Leather and tack crackled loudly as Gariland finally dismounted and stepped onto the gravel drive. He smacked his lips as he brushed the grime off his costly garments. “Who do you have with you, Miss Herding?”
“Yes,” her father said. “Who is this man? And where have you been? It was terrible of you to leave me here worrying about your well-being after I paid your ransom—”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” Gariland interrupted, ending Herding’s tirade. “I am Lord Bertram Gariland, Miss Herding’s betrothed. And you are?”
Wolf might look like he just stepped out of a tavern, but he wasn’t ignorant of courtly manners. On the contrary, his education had come from blue bloods in Japan, Versailles, and St. Petersburg, as well as Joanna and the Earl of Hartland. According to social etiquette, a man did not introduce himself when someone else could do it for him. However, given the circumstances of Selina’s arrival, and the shock her sudden appearance afforded the two men, he decided proprieties needn’t be observed.
“I’m—”
“The captain of the Sea Wolf,” she supplied.
Herding’s and Gariland’s expressions soured.
“Captain.” Herding bowed politely. “I am indebted to you. My name is Julius Herding.” He reached out his hand.
Wolf glanced down, grabbed hold of the man’s gloved hand, and shook it. Herding’s grip was hard, providing evidence that he had gained physical strength through manual labor.
Selina’s father turned to conversation around to her fiancé. “And you have already met Lord Gariland.” He gestured toward the gentleman. “He and my daughter were to be married on the day of her disappearance. Shame, that.”
“Owen and I were kidnapped,” Selina corrected. “We did not disappear on purpose.”
Gariland’s expression softened as he stepped toward Selina. “And we
have been beside ourselves with worry, my dear.”
Wolf doubted it. He could tell neither man had a kind bone in his body. They’d been hunting with the hounds while Selina could have been raped or worse. Wary of both men, Wolf sought to control the frenzied rage building inside him. He couldn’t quite explain his feelings, but he’d spent enough time in Charve’s, Wellington’s, and the Legion’s employ to recognize corruption when he saw it. For Selina’s sake, he needed to discover what Gariland’s true intentions were before he deserted her to their caprices.
Gariland raised his chin. He glared at Wolf with an obvious ferocity—jealousy. “Captain, you cannot know the bliss I am experiencing at the sight of my precious bride-to-be’s safe return.” He pulled out a lacy handkerchief and dabbed his nose. “Oh . . . how I have longed for it.”
Herding patted Gariland’s shoulder with fatherly affection. “There’s a good man.” He turned inquisitive eyes on Selina. “Now that you are back, daughter, I shall welcome home my son. Is he resting inside?”
Selina’s expression fell. Things were just as she feared. Wolf longed to comfort her. “Do you mean to say he’s—”
“Not here,” Wolf supplied. He watched Gariland closely. The man’s increased eye contact seemed a bit off because no signs of disappointment etched lines into his face. Quite telling, indeed. But it was Herding who surprised Wolf more.
“Not here?” Herding roared. “Why did you return without him?”
The frightened hounds scampered off with their tails between their legs, whining and nipping at one another in turns as they crossed the lawn. Heather scented the air as the pointers and retrievers disturbed the lush grass.
“I paid for my heir to be returned.” Herding slapped his riding quirt on his thigh as he paced back and forth before them.
Selina didn’t flinch, a matter that suggested the dogs were treated better than she had been. Wolf found that to be the most surprising tell of all. Weren’t mothers and fathers supposed to love their children and do everything within their power to protect them?
His own mother’s weeping filled his ears. He shook his head to clear it.
“The corsairs took your money, Papa.” Selina’s voice faded to a hushed stillness as she moved toward her father. Wolf sensed her anguish; he understood what she did not say and the control it took for her to explain what had happened. “They took the cache and sailed us to Cadiz.”
“Cadiz?” Gariland’s voice cracked with unbridled fervor. “Whatever for?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wolf snapped. He had to wonder why Gariland was suddenly interested in the ransom exchange. But there was a slight jerk to the man’s facial features, suggesting guilt, not concern. Wolf fisted his hands, loathing the intrusive and foolish thoughts spiraling through his mind. Curse his spy tactics! But the facts were lining up. If the pulse beating rapidly at Gariland’s throat was any indication, the man knew more than he wanted anyone to believe. But what?
“It appears someone wants Owen out of the way,” Wolf added.
“How do you know?” Herding asked. “And why are you dressed like the scurrilous pirates who kidnapped her?”
Gariland smiled triumphantly. He quirked an all-too-perfect brow. “A good question, Herding.”
The rough callouses on Wolf’s fingers dug into his palms. Selina’s face blanched. She stood forgotten and alone. He wanted to reach out and pull her to his chest. Couldn’t Herding see what this bickering was doing to her? Didn’t he care? There’d been no embraces, only a slight turn of joy that disappeared once it became clear Owen was nowhere near.
Before Wolf could speak, Selina did. “The captain of the Sea Wolf saved my life, Papa.”
“Sea Wolf?” Gariland shrieked. He turned, examining Wolf like he was a weevil on day-old bread.
“And he traded fifty boxes of priceless cigars to get me out of a tavern in Saint-Malo.” Her reference was a shocking and satisfying support of his sacrifice.
“What were you doing in a tavern?” The very idea seemed appalling to Gariland, which was finally a genuine emotion.
“Trying to survive,” Wolf supplied. “And succeeding.”
He met Gariland’s stare, holding back the snide remark poised on the tip of his tongue. No thanks to you, you scabrous windbag. He clenched his teeth and imagined giving the man a click in the muns. Deciding not to punch Gariland in the face, Wolf inhaled deeply and then smiled as he faced Herding.
“She’s very resourceful, your daughter,” Wolf said. “She escaped her captors before being sold on the auction block in Cadiz.”
“Sold?” Herding asked.
“Aye,” Wolf agreed. “And she sold her gown in exchange for a poor boy’s clothes, snuck on board a ship headed to Saint-Malo, and even after being discovered as a stowaway by corsairs on that very ship, she fought for her life in the tavern where I found her . . . in chains.”
“Chains?” Herding looked from Wolf to Selina. “And this man found you there? Tell me, did he . . . did they—”
“Papa!” She gasped, her gaze darting to Gariland.
“I am your father,” Herding said, cold and exact. “It is my business to know.”
“And I am your betrothed.” Gariland puffed out his chest, trying to look gallant. “As your future husband, I assure you, no matter what you were forced to do in order to stay alive, I care not if you’ve been damaged.”
“Damaged?” Selina turned her back on the two men and made her way to the wide staircase leading to the front door.
Wolf followed to offer her his support.
“Stay away from my daughter!” Herding shouted, stopping Wolf in his tracks.
Selina turned around. Her face was red and she clenched her fists, prepared to do battle. It only made Wolf desire her once more. “Wolf is a gentleman, which is more than I can say for either of you. How dare you suggest that he has behaved like those vile beasts who kidnapped me!”
Wolf grimaced. He was like those men. He was a pirate. He worked as a mercenary for Wellington and the Legion. Even now, he was an animal lusting for what he couldn’t have. No use reminding Selina, of course, especially when the memory of her sitting naked in a half barrel in the middle of his cabin pleasured him so immensely.
Aye, beast it is.
Gariland ambled like a dandy toward Selina. “No one is suggesting any such thing, Miss Herding. Please accept my apologies. Or, as we are soon to be wed, may I call you Selina, at last, my darling?” He glanced over at her father and received Herding’s affirmative nod. “Now seems as good a time as any to request the privilege, don’t you think?” he asked, wooing her with pretty words.
Selina didn’t respond. A woman didn’t recover from terror so quickly.
Gariland continued to bath her with endearances, but Wolf saw through the man. He was a coward. A man who thought highly of himself did not play well with others. Wolf should know, though he behaved that way for very different reasons. What, he asked himself, motivated a titled man to sink low enough to marry someone from the merchant class, especially a woman who obviously didn’t love him? Hadn’t Joanna explained to Wolf that such a thing wasn’t done?
“My dear, you cannot know how much I suffered waiting in the church for you to arrive on our wedding day only to discover you’d been kidnapped.”
Nausea churned in Wolf’s stomach. He cleared his throat. “Tell me,” he said. “Were you prostrate before the church altar for the past fortnight praying she’d miraculously return, or did you go hunting for her the very next day?”
“Enough!” Herding shouted. “Captain, I thank you for bringing my daughter home. I owe you a great debt of gratitude.” The elder man glanced at Gariland. “Now the two of you can be wed and the future of our two families turned to rights. Is that not so, my lord?”
“Yes.” Gariland pursed his lips and clucked. “But of course.”
“I will not marry anyone, Papa, until Owen comes back from Cadiz.”
“You cannot mean that!” Ga
riland shrieked.
Selina’s eyes met Wolf’s. He nodded, hoping to give her the strength she needed to tell her father her plan. “I intend to hire a crew and return for him myself.”
“What?” Gariland choked out.
“You’ll do no such thing,” her father shouted. “I forbid it! I cannot lose you again.”
“Nor I,” Gariland hastily agreed, grooming his collar. “No one should be required to wait for their betrothed twice.”
As the two men argued about how they were going to manage Selina’s life, Wolf’s instincts railed.
Get on your horse and put the Herdings and Gariland—and their deceptions—behind you.
Selina was betrothed to another man, and not just any man but a lord. Her destiny would take her places he could never go. He should break away, make things easier on her. And Selina’s relationship with her father might not be sound, but it was none of his affair. Or was it?
Bollocks! He needed a cigar. He’d be lying to himself if he refused to acknowledge the firestorm that blazed within him whenever he and Selina touched. They shared a raw, tempestuous passion, one rarely discovered. He’d never felt like this, and he wanted to kill to keep her.
Trethewey House reeked of betrayal. He could taste it and smell it. But he dared not make a scene for fear of causing Selina any more pain. Going berserk would destroy whatever dignity she had left, and he couldn’t do that to her. She deserved happiness, to be able to stand on her own two feet. She would never be able to do that if she married Lord Gariland.
The struggle waging war inside him turned volatile. If he didn’t do something, and fast, he feared the mercenary side of him—the man with no home, no name, nothing to offer a good woman—would do something all of them would regret.
Yet for reasons Wolf could not fathom, his instincts yowled that a deception of epic proportions smoldered at Trethewey like the fires Selina had lit in Saint-Malo. Corsairs served no one but themselves. Was Lord Gariland such a man? And what did Gariland have to gain if he married Selina and Owen was never found?
The Mercenary Pirate (The Heart of a Hero Book 10) Page 15