Sources apprise Trewman's Exeter Flying Post that REVENUE officers scuffled with a constable at the INDIAN QUEEN after an apparent misunderstanding involving the BLACK REGENT and the Fury's crew. The former, having been RESCUED from a gale crushing their ship against rocks near ANSTEY'S COVE, now free of DANGER, shared drinks with the latter, toasting the highest commendations of PROSPERITY and success, much to the chagrin of Lady O.
~ Trewman's Exeter Flying Post, 11 November 1808
HOURS LATER, AFTER THE STORM CLEARED, Mr. Denny exited the cottage and made his way to the stable wearing Tobias's cloak. He led Manfred out into the light and mounted, speeding down the lane toward the manor house with a purposeful pace.
"Won't he be an easy target?" Prudence whispered, fearing the man would die attempting to fool their enemies. She couldn't bear the thought that she'd be partly responsible for Mrs. Denny's loss. "And won't the men chasing us wonder why he's alone?"
"After they shot at us, they will think I left you here to keep you safe. Underwood doesn't want to hurt you… yet."
His rationale was as shocking as the idea that Lord Underwood was a greedy killer. She still hadn't digested that information. "Mr. Denny is in immediate danger. Won't they strike at him, thinking to kill you before he reaches the manor house?"
"My Jones is keen as a fox," Mrs. Denny said. "Had to be to survive in the revenue service."
Tobias bowed his head to Mrs. Denny, then ushered Prudence to the back door of the cottage. "As Mrs. Denny said, there's nothing to fear. Prior to attending your wedding, I had men stationed in the woods close to the house. If anyone follows Denny, they'll get a surprise they won't forget."
She gasped. "That's why you had him wear your cloak." Understanding dawned. "But if the house is surrounded by guards, why wouldn't it be safe enough for us?" She simply couldn't bear Mrs. Denny becoming a widow in her stead.
She expected him to look at her as if she was daft. He did no such thing. Tenderness softened his features, making her feel as though he truly cared for her concerns.
"No plan is error proof," he said, his voice hinting that he'd seen failure in the past. "I will not take chances with your life. Underwood has proven he will do anything to get to you, including murdering me and burning down our stables. Do you honestly think the manor house will be off-limits? No. You are safer with me," he said, running his finger down the side of her cheek, sparking a fire inside her. "And you are not expendable."
She closed her eyes against the glorious agony his touch produced. Was it wrong to desire Tobias? To long for his kisses, his assurances, his embrace? What guarantees did she have that he wouldn't break her heart again? None. He hadn't said the three words she longed to hear, yet, either: I love you. But he'd sworn that everything he'd done was for her. He'd pretended to be dead to keep Lord Underwood from attacking the manse. He'd provided a steward to watch over her and aid in the running of their estate. He'd become a pirate to undermine Lord Underwood and limit his power. And he'd come back to keep Lord Underwood from using her to get the map. Good God, she thought, panicking. A few days ago, in her naïveté, she'd set the survey in front of Lord Underwood's face hoping that she and Basil could obtain a partnership that would benefit both estates. Thank God she'd refused to leave it and had taken it back with her to Blackmoor.
"Come," he said, taking her hand. "It's time."
She turned slowly to Mrs. Denny and sucked in a supportive breath, hating herself for leaving the woman alone with her baby. She was the Duchess of Blackmoor. For too long the mantle of protection had been on her shoulders. But the Dennys depended on Tobias's estate for their livelihood. Who was she to fail them?
"God's speed, madam," Mrs. Denny said, dipping a curtsy.
Prudence nodded solemnly. "Thank you." She reached out and caressed the baby's face, her heart purged of any ill feelings about the lies the Dennys had told her. Their oath to Tobias proved they were trustworthy people. "Take good care of him," she said, offering a silent prayer this madness would end.
Would she ever hold her own baby in her arms?
Tobias gently took her hand and led her toward the exit. Each cloaked in borrowed dark wool, they eased out the back door and slipped outside, meandering through the Dennys' walled garden. They didn't stop there but moved through an opening in the stones, then quickly followed a rocky trail. Tobias expertly led the way, making her wonder how he knew this terrain. He put up his hand, giving a silent order for her to stop. Then he disappeared, but not for long. Within moments, he returned to lead her down several treacherous inclines covered in fern, gorse, blackthorn, and primrose before a small boat appeared, tied to a sunken post.
The titillating danger heightened her senses, making her feel more alive than she'd ever felt. She attributed the sensation to Tobias's so-called labor of love—her freedom. Her heart clenched. Was it possible he was finally telling her the truth? The Dennys believed him, had helped him. Mrs. Denny even trusted Tobias with Mr. Denny's life. What benefit was there in it for him to lie to her now?
Their breaths misted before them, fanning about their shoulders as she hurried to follow Tobias. Tension thickened the spring air as he carefully signaled for her to board the tiny vessel. She moved to do as he'd bade her, inhaling a stabilizing breath when her foot dipped into the cold water, soaking her slipper. She settled into the boat, refusing to complain as Tobias momentarily disappeared again. Sitting alone, cold, afraid the tiny vessel would break free of its mooring and she'd be swept out to her death, Prudence bit her lower lip to keep from crying out as she watched her husband—apparently an infamous pirate—barrel out of the bushes, untie the ropes holding the cutter steady, then lift the oars and navigate the boat by pushing them off the riverbank into the swift-flowing current. By the time they were safely in the middle of the river, her nerves were worn thin.
They traveled in silence. Water lapped against the hull as Tobias worked the oars rhythmically into the river. Prudence sat stiffly before him, struggling to catch her breath. She'd never felt so at odds with her emotions before. Even while her heart had been breaking, Tobias had been fighting to protect her. And he'd kept her safe until she'd found the map. What would happen to them now?
All at once, Mr. Leyes's salutation echoed in her ears: Your prayers have been answered, child. Go in peace.
She'd been given a miracle. Tobias was alive. Would it be possible for them to live in peace? Tobias's vendetta against Lord Underwood could lead him to his grave—permanently. She'd be a fool not to forgive his betrayal when the very truth of his existence brought her exceeding joy. But what of his secrets? Was there room in her heart to forgive those, too?
Light gave way to a brilliant sunset as Tobias steered the small boat out of the Exe River and into the Lyme Sea where he—even with his strong, muscular body—struggled to row against the crashing surf. He toiled for what seemed like hours as they progressed toward imposing granite cliffs. The wind shouted. Gulls cawed, cutting through the air on shifting wings toward their nests. She'd never seen the coast from this angle before and she couldn't resist a shiver of dread. Would they be smashed against the rocks as Tobias floated them through a narrowing, cave-like opening at the bottom of a rock face?
"Oh!" she cried, clenching the hull tightly as the rocks grew closer, then veered away on each cresting tidal surge.
"Have no fear. We are safe," Tobias said softly.
She tried desperately to believe him as she gazed up and down, surveying the growing expanse unveiled within the granite cathedral. "What is this place?"
"A natural fortress."
"Are you not afraid it will collapse on our heads?"
His laughter didn't ease her nerves. "This cave has been carved out by the sea. It's been here for hundreds of years, if not more. There's no need to be afraid. I've navigated it countless times."
She gasped as they rounded a bend in the rock wall and glowing lights penetrated the darkness. With every stroke of the oars, more of the hidde
n lagoon was revealed. And to her amazement, a colossal black ship appeared, filling the space, its masts seeming to barely clear the cavern's roof.
The Fury!
The ship was surrounded by a conclave of men, actively in motion, going about various tasks. Barrels, bundles, and bags lined the rock face, stacked one on top of the other. Crates were strewn about, either upended and opened or piled on the cave floor. The acoustics of the space were strong, carrying conversation as each man spoke cautiously to the other.
Prudence covered her mouth and sat as still as she possibly could to keep from making a sound and giving away their presence. But she needn't have bothered. A man standing ashore released a low whistle and reached out his hand. "Heva."
Tobias pulled the oars inside. "Bear a hand," he replied, throwing out a rope.
"Ready," the pirate replied. He caught the twisted hemp and began mooring the vessel to its makeshift port while waiting for the current to assist him. Wood grated against rock, and Prudence grasped the hull to keep from flipping into the water.
"Successful mission, Cap'n?" The seaman removed his cap. "No trouble reclaiming your missus?"
"Everything went off exactly as we planned," Tobias said, slowly hopping to solid ground, then turning to reach out a hand to help her ashore.
She cast a wary glance at the man, then inspected the spacious cavern. The Fury's imposing masts made her feel small and insignificant next to Tobias's watchful crew. Likewise, the men stopped their duties to gawk at the newcomer.
She suppressed a shiver, recalling every horrifying story she and Chloe had ever heard or read about pirates. The Black Regent's crew looked exactly as she and Chloe had speculated, with their linen neckerchiefs, varieties of calico shirts, loose-fitting jackets, buff-toned trousers with sashes tied about their waists, leather belts and straps worn diagonally across their chests and decorated with weapons of various size and increment. They were a frightful, unkempt sight.
Tobias cleared his throat. When she looked at him again, he smiled like a boy caught stealing cream. "My lady, may I introduce my first mate, Angus Pye?"
The pirate bowed politely, drawing her gaze to his legs… er, leg. Wooden leg.
She quickly dipped a curtsy, trying not to stare at his impediment.
"Pye, behold my wife, the Duchess of Blackmoor."
"'Tis a pleasure to meet you at last," Angus said, offering a crooked but charming smile. As she wondered how long he had been with her husband, the man bobbed his head again, then turned to Tobias. "Everything is ready."
Tobias nodded and took Prudence's hand. Together, they wove their way through hoards of stolen merchandise, past the Fury's figurehead—a woman clothed in a billowing shift, her hand outstretched—to the gangplank leading up to the quarterdeck. The ship was an architectural wonder, a surprising blackened beauty with its gun decks, rigging, cannonades, three towering masts, and furled sails.
No wonder it had never been caught.
TOBIAS GROUND HIS TEETH in frustration. I am an unmitigated ass, he thought, watching Prudence cautiously navigate the hatch to descend the main companionway stairs with queenly poise. Nothing had changed in Exeter since his hypothetical death—except his wife. She'd once been a meek, easily persuaded woman, charged by flights of imagination. This Prudence was no longer cast from a cocoon of characters in Gothic novels. The estate thrived. His accounts were in pristine order and Blackmoor's figures had increased under her watchful eye. She'd taken care of his tenants when there had been a need, Mrs. Denny's difficult pregnancy included. Fierce in her defense of his duchy, she'd taken hold of his responsibilities like a lioness forged out of desert sand. And damn him, he couldn't ignore the admirable transformation any more than he could deny the heart pumping blood through his foul veins.
Blackmoor. Heir to a manse above the cliffs that cries no more.
Throughout his life, the staff and tenants on his estate had been loyal to his father. In his father's absence, nary a one had abandoned Prudence… except him. Had his decision, the deathbed vow he'd given his father, Eggleston's letter, the map he'd hidden under lock and key to protect her, and his dishonesty transformed a solitary caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly? As the Black Regent, he'd set out to ruin Underwood's financial realm, to expose the marquess's evil, making it harder for the man to do his worst. His plan had worked until now, until Prudence had exposed his trump card. Where would this dangerous situation lead them? Would Tobias lose Prudence when all he'd ever sought to do was protect her?
Tobias escorted his wife past gun tackle and equipment to his cabin door, looking back at her occasionally to ensure she hadn't lost her way. Nothing in this ship condemned him but her presence. Within this hulking vessel, he wasn't an outsider but a living, breathing part of a greater plan, a leader of miscreants who fought for more than themselves—the lives of his father's friends, their heirs, villagers who bore the brunt of Underwood's deceitful, tightfisted tactics. To him, this defined his duchy. His father had exhausted legal channels to stop Underwood, to no avail. Tobias had chosen to fight fire with fire, sailing into perilous waters, attacking Underwood's ships, dividing the spoils among those less fortunate, and making a mockery of revenue men who'd sought to stop his quest for revenge. He'd embraced impossible odds and sacrificed his own happiness for the downtrodden, hungry miners, jobless fishermen, and smugglers trying to make good.
Prudence's derision was a price he was no longer willing to pay, however. He was like any other man, desiring the comforts of a woman. Not just any woman—his wife. If it took a lifetime to make amends, he'd breathe his last breath ensuring Prudence would love him again. Or he'd let her go, allowing her the freedom she deserved to love someone else, no matter how it hurt him. He'd done enough…
He rolled his shoulders, released a sigh, and opened the bulkhead door to his private domain. He stood aside, allowing Prudence to move past him. She inched forward slowly, and he watched her eyes digest the mahogany-paneled bulkhead, large stern windows, glass-encased shelves, spyglass, cutlass, and dagger fixed to the wall. The swinging lantern hanging over his desk and two chairs kept time with the living ship breathing beneath their feet.
"Impressive," she said, unclasping the cloak Mrs. Denny had lent her. She folded the wool and laid it over the back of a chair, then walked toward the set of three windows. She knelt on the window seat and absentmindedly stroked the black damask curtains. The distracting action threatened to undo him. He wanted to heal her heart, comfort her soul, and feel her hands caress him the same way.
"So this is where you've been for the past two years," she said, her voice cutting and sharp.
He removed his cloak and laid it on the desk. "When I was at sea… yes." He unbuttoned his greatcoat.
She nodded, refusing to meet his gaze. "Help me understand why you chose this ship over me, Tobias." He'd earned her resentful voice and he didn't like it.
"I didn't choose the Fury over you, Prudence. How I wish you'd understand. Someone has to stand up to Underwood, to come to the aid of the men he's destroyed."
"And has your decision brought you joy?" She turned away from the windows. A rosy flush crept up her bosom and rose to her face. This confrontational woman was a stranger to him, a seductive siren waging war on his senses.
"You have every right to be angry with me."
"I am." She sighed heavily. "And I cannot quite figure out how to address my anger. I cannot ignore you. I cannot escape you." Her honey-brown eyes glinted like daggers. "What can I do?"
"We are alone now. Rail at me. Hit me some more if it will make you feel better."
Slowly, she rose from the window seat. She glided toward him. "I should hate you for everything you've done."
She placed her hands on his chest, then moved them up his shoulders and down his arms until she clasped his hands. He lowered his defenses, standing motionless, afraid to break the spell she wove over him. He deserved nothing but her disappointment, disdain, and wrath. He'd asked too much
, more than one woman should have to sacrifice, and had given too little in return.
She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. Tears pooled in their depths. "How could you?" she asked on a ragged sob. "I gave you my heart, Tobias." Unchecked tears spilled down her cheeks. "I loved you more than life itself." He didn't move as her tears fell, allowing her to grieve, to speak her heart. She splayed her fingers wide against his chest, lowering her head to touch her forehead to her hands. "You made me suffer so much."
He raised his hand and stroked her beautiful, silky blond hair. "Aye. You've suffered more than enough, love."
She sobbed silently, grabbing his lapels, twisting them in her hands. "Love? What do you know of love?" She raised her chin, craning her neck to look up at him.
"I know love makes a man do crazy things."
She stared at him. "What things?"
"Love makes a man think he can carry the weight of the world on his shoulders."
She shook her head. "You were never supposed to carry your burdens alone, Tobias. You didn't have to." She settled back into his embrace. He absorbed her warmth, the sensual friction of her torso against his.
Curse and damn him, he couldn't take much more. Holding her in his arms was driving him mad.
"Tell me." She raised her head and gazed at him with soulful eyes. She grabbed both sides of his face with her hands. "Show me. Make me believe that you aren't a callous, heartless bastard."
"No more lies," he promised, threading his hands through her hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled her lavender scent, imagining that she could trust him, love him again. The bittersweet moment was pure agony and ecstasy. He gently pulled her head back and lost himself in her eyes, delving into their richest depths like a man seeking guidance from the stars. Her eyes were captivatingly unique with a single dark spec in one of them.
"I've never met anyone as brave as you are, Prudence." Never before had he felt so bound to one soul.
He wanted to kiss her slightly parted mouth, to brand her with his scent, his touch, his sex, and make her his own once more. But he couldn't rush it. Prudence was like a frightened doe and for good reason. She'd lost more than a husband that fated night in the stables. She was scarred by tragedy that couldn't be shaken. What she needed and desired was love, his genuine affection, and respect. And for the first time in his life, he was determined to see her bloom again in his arms.
Once Upon a True Love's Kiss Page 19