by Susan Ward
Perhaps an hour passed, Varian wasn’t sure, sitting in a chair doing nothing but watching her sleep, before she stirred slowly. Then, with sudden quickness, sat up in bed, covering herself with the blankets.
Frowning, she ran her fingers through her curls and asked, “Why are you dressed? Stay and sleep with me.”
“If I join you in bed, we will never leave it.”
Merry’s answering expression suggested that thought was agreeable to her.
He smiled into her watching gaze, rose from the chair and settled beside her on the bed. He lifted a curl, threading it through his fingers, and said, “We have other things to do today, my dear. Much to accomplish, since we are at Barataria but a few days.”
Her smile was impish. She was in a playful mood. “Do we? We are on a pirate isle, Captain. What possible endeavor could require our attention this day?”
He leaned forward to kiss her, only the lightest of touch on her lips. “I would like to correct my past misdeeds before we return to sea.”
Merry made a face at him. “It will take you more than a single day to do all that.”
He made a small chuckle. Then he lifted her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. “I would like you to get dressed. We are going to New Orleans. We are getting married today.”
Merry jerked her hand free of his and sat back against the pillows. Married, indeed. She wasn’t sure what she was reacting to, the fact that he ordered her, or that his announcement stirred much conflicting emotion. A day with the women of Barataria had made his offer a dangerously appealing one. Pain shot through her veins as the image of her father rose behind her lids; she could never marry Varian without betraying her father. And temper stirred over that insufferable man’s arrogance.
She was glad anger was among the emotions pulsing through her veins. Temper gave her the strength to battle the desperate urge to accept what he offered her.
She countered, “So, we are getting married today, are we? You already asked and I gave you my answer. You are an arrogant man to think I will change course in our current circumstance, merely because you order it.”
Varian pulled away and stood above her. His pose she knew well, she saw it often on deck, and it only furthered her fury.
“I expect you to change course because it is the wiser move. Why are you so damn stubborn? Do you really want to be exiled from polite society forever? There will be no turning back from this path you’ve put yourself on if you do not marry me, my dear.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was clear by his manner that Varian had planned for them to marry while ashore even before they had left the ship. The pieces clicked together in her mind.
Her eyes started to flash. “So that is why you brought me ashore with you. You wanted me to see the grim fate of fallen women. What did you think, Varian? A day with Giselle and I would jump at your offer to rescue me from my foolishness and disgrace? How clever you are. But I am not a child and I am far from stupid. I do not wish to be managed, as though you believe me both.”
Varian arched a brow to cover his surprise, though it should not have surprised him that as quick as Merry was, she was fast learning to read his moves with her. Then, his black eyes gentled. “It was never my desire to make you my mistress. I do not like that I have debased you that way. I can’t in good conscience permit it to continue.”
The vehemence of tone startled her and her eyes went wide. Merry inhaled deeply, several times, willing herself to calm. Fighting with him had been the wrong tack. It had kicked up whatever this unfathomable emotion was inside him. She felt it cursing through him and worried if he pressed hard, she might well give in.
“I think we have our clichés reversed, again. I’m the one who should stubbornly insist you marry me.” She looked up to find him still watching her. “I have a proposal for you this time, you insufferable man. Tell me the truth of what intrigue you are about on your ship. I know it is more than your vendetta against Rensdale. And tell me who you are, then I will marry you.”
Another flash of surprise he could not fully conceal. After a long pause, he said on a clipped voice of icy civility, “I should not have to explain myself at all to you. I am agreeable to marrying you. That should be enough.”
Merry rolled her eyes at that. “Well, sir, that is not enough. Not for me. There is much you are about I know nothing of, least of all who you are, in true. I will not jump into a circumstance I know nothing of. It is insulting you think I will, because I am a woman.”
“You are already in the circumstance, my dear. I am merely trying to improve it.” He sank back down on the bed. Frustrated with her and showing it, he exclaimed, “Marriage is the best circumstance left to you. Why do you fight me in this?”
Merry looked down at her hands. She ran her fingers through her curls again. She did not want to fight with him today. Biting her lower lips, she moved across the bed until she was against his back. She placed a gentle kiss there.
Her hands moved up his arms, in feather-light touch, as she touched her lips on the smooth flesh beneath his ear. Whispering, “Well, sir, if marrying a notorious pirate is the best circumstance left to me, then I am, indeed, in desperate circumstance.”
As he met her gaze, he struggled to keep his thoughts from showing facilely. “You are a vexing creature.”
Merry smiled. “Perhaps.” She laid back against the pillows. “Do you really want to argue today?”
Quick. Clever.
He shook his head, knowing she was trying to manage him, knowing she didn’t suspect he realized it, and knowing she was very pleased with herself. It would be wrong to let her divert him, even with that charming brightening of her eyes, working so determinedly to divert him.
“Your stubbornness is your greatest folly, Merry,” he said in straining tolerance, watching the vein begin to pulse in the dainty surface of her throat. Then, he thought about how it felt for his lips to touch there, how it felt to be inside her, how it felt to have her satiny limbs wrapped around him, and how it felt when she whispered his name.
Her throaty laughter accompanied his fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt. On a sweetly seductive whisper she said, “If you are truly determined to make me your wife, do not tarry too long to answer my questions, Varian. Too long and I may tire of you.”
That did it. Just the right touch of irritation.
Varian gently pushed her back into the mattress before his fingers closed on her legs, to tug her downward on the bed until she lay flat. Then he leaned over and began to kiss her legs, her thighs, her stomach, and her breasts.
She moaned and closed her eyes as he kissed her deeply in her throat. The feel of him jolted through her limbs and in the heated aching surface of her flesh. She could not get enough of him. He joined his body to hers.
He was just the right amount of angry. Irritation, it was a very useful emotion indeed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Indy went to the port rail, for the hundredth time this day, hoping for sight of Merry. He went back to the mizzen, where Tom Craven was busy ordering the men as they made the needed repairs to the ship.
The boy had done nothing but fidget since the moment the girl had disappeared beyond the dock front with Morgan. Thin lips tightening in annoyance, Tom glanced at Indy with his dull eyes mocking.
“You are making a fool of yourself,” the gruff old man growled sternly. “The girl is fine.”
Ignoring the taunt, Indy sank on a crate and surveyed the working crew. “How many days do you think it will take to repair this?”
“Two. No more.” He glanced from the topgallant to the boy. “If you’re going to become emotional again, please do so below decks. My temper cannot support another of your panics over the girl.”
With temper chills biting the lining of his stomach, Indy pushed off of the crate and went back to the port rail. Tom ignored him as long as he could then, cursing under his breath, crossed the deck to the sullen youth.
“My assurances seem no
t to matter to you.” A terse smile touched his lips. “One hour. I expect you back in one hour, ready to work. And if you make any trouble, it will be both our heads for this.”
Tom’s words had taken Indy off-guard. Morgan had expressly order he not leave the ship. Why would Craven violate the order?
Indy said quickly, “Do you mean it?”
“Go. Though I do not think you will find relief for what ails you, in what you find.” Dismissingly, Tom went back to his work.
Several hours later, Indy was carefully concealed on a rise above the secluded beach where he found Merry. Craven had been right. He had not found relief from what ailed him in finding her. He thought of how different Merry and Morgan looked, in the hidden moments they thought unshared. Of how it had felt, when he had first spotted them strolling the sand, clinging to each other, laughing in unbridled bliss over private words only they would hear. How Merry’s silly antics caused the man he had thought he knew so well to respond in the same nonsensical manner, a smile on the Captain’s face unlike any Indy had ever seen. The Morgan he watched was a stranger, though he could not say he had ever known the man completely.
Relief that Merry was well did not diminish the severity of the other things Indy was feeling. It would have been kinder if Tom had not let him come here. Perhaps that was why Craven had allowed it. To see these things he did not want to see, and discover other things he’d been unwilling to see.
Indy lifted the bottle of whiskey and took a long pull. His eyes still burned from the opium he’d smoked while searching for Merry. The sun was going lower and he knew he should not remain here. Tom had said an hour. He’d been ashore half a day. Tom would be furious.
Making no move to rise, Indy watched as Merry took Morgan’s shoes and tossed them into the waves. She scampered off, laughing hysterically, then was brought to the sand by the Captain and set to roll within it. And then they were kissing and touching freely, in that way two people who love shared love.
The boy might not have ever experienced the touch of a woman that way, but he was not blind to seeing it. He lifted the bottle again. They love. That is what Tom sent me here to see.
Quietly, Tom sank down on the earth beside the boy. The lecture he had intended, during the walk here, was quickly banked. What was on the boy’s face would be enough to deal with for a single day.
Indy continued to drink in silence for a long time, eyes blank of inner reflection. As pathetic as it made him feel, he said, “He is a stranger to me. I do not know this man.”
Sensing the boy’s inner-conflict and misery, Tom took the bottle from the lad’s hand.
“It’s appalling you believe you do not know him. This is the man he has always been. The man who searched for you for five years. The man who has been to hell and back since he found you. This is the man who cut up pieces of himself and fed them to you, because you needed them to put yourself back together. This is the man I am loyal to. This is who he has always been, only you refuse to see it. It is past time to stop punishing him for what happened to you. It wasn’t his fault. He’d cut off his right arm to make it not have happened. You have blamed the wrong man for five years and you’ve made him blame himself.”
Fixing his gaze on his own scarred fingers, Indy asked, “Is this how he was...” the words broke off, the unfamiliar tightening of his throat, would not let him finish. He already knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.
Tom nodded his graying head.
“It is the only man I have ever known. He loves this girl very much. She loves him. Stop tearing yourself to shreds over having brought her to him. Whatever game you set to play, it played out well. It was the best thing you could have done for the girl. He is a good man, Indy. Merry is lucky to have him. It is past time for you to come to peace with your role in this. We’ve nearly finished what brought us to this ship. It won’t be long before he goes off with Merry. You had best decide what you will do then, lad. You’re not a boy any longer. You’re a man. He’ll realize that too in time. He will not be with us much longer.”
Tom rose to his feet, stretched his tired limbs, and then said, “The game has gone too far. You cannot stop it even if you wish to. There are cards you may still play. But they will not change the course of this. It will play until complete. Stay ashore. Have a woman. Let it go, lad. There is no turning back and whatever will happen has already been done. We will face it, when there is a need. The only kindness you can give either of them is to hold your tongue and walk away.”
~~~
The afternoon found Varian occupied with Jean in discussion of whatever intrigue they shared. Merry was left in the custody of Giselle.
Merry strolled the dock front crowded with vendors and pirates, with Giselle at her side and the obedient Mr. Pitt following several steps behind in watchful diligence. As irritated as she was to discover Mr. Pitt would be her protector when Varian was not near, and her suspicions the Shawnee had joined the Corinthian after Virginia for that sole purpose, did not diminish the comfort Merry felt knowing Pitt stood between her and the world here.
The other women of Barataria were drawn to shop of the newly arrived cargo as well, and when Merry met stare for stare Cerynis, it was the blond who looked away first. The glances of the women were not as benevolent as those she received when Varian was by her side. She noted such was the case for Giselle as well, though her companion seemed immune to the catty, open hostility among the women of Jean’s Villa.
Favoring Giselle with a guarded glance, Merry felt a touch of sadness for the girl. Giselle was not so different than her, though the men they loved were worlds apart. Another unkind lesson learned. Much of a women’s fate would be determined by the man she loved. The fate of a women seemed a constant thing despite geography, path, or society. In all forms, it would rest in the hands of a man.
That brought her thoughts unpleasantly to her own fate. Had she been foolish to reject Varian’s proposal a second time? Was marrying him the wiser move?
Frustrated with herself, she cursed him once for his attempts to manage her, and cursed him a second time because she loved him.
Giselle looked up from a table, took note of Merry’s interest in the women, then picked up a bag and handed it to Merry. “Here, a present from me to you. It is willow tea and women of our circumstance can never be too careful. Drink it every day, ma chère. French women believe it helps.”
Merry stared down at the bag. “Thank you for the gift, but what does it help with?”
Merry’s frown of confusion made Giselle laugh. “It is a contraception, ma chère.”
It was clear the little flower didn’t know that word, and it was a thing of wonder for Giselle that Merry was as innocent as she looked. Giselle laughed harder. “Mon Dieu, you know too little to be a mistress, ma petite. English women do not teach their daughters anything useful. You are a novice at the art of love. I would not have taken Morgan for a man to be enamored by innocence.”
Giselle looked up at the sun and then waved her fingers as though to fan her face. “We should go back to the fortress. Another hour and I will be brown as a savage. The Captains should be done with their meeting and ready to amuse us.”
Merry tucked the tea into the basket she carried. “Go without me. I would like to continue looking here.”
Giselle smiled. “Do not dally too late, ma fleur. Even with Pitt it would not be safe for you on the docks after nightfall.”
Merry lingered at the waterfront all afternoon. The last thing she wanted was to return to the fortress, find Varian occupied, and be trapped indoors with the women the remainder of the day. And there was much to the merchant tables here to amuse her.
An elderly black woman read her tarot cards and gave her a blessing in a language she did not understand. She concluded her favor, by gifting Merry a charming doll that resembled a broom.
Continuing on her way, Merry looked at many things and bought nothing, though she knew Pitt followed close behind and Varian had made sur
e he had coin to pay for whatever she desired.
At a stand where she examined wind chimes made of seashells, she felt the heavy presence of eyes upon her. She paused to pet a dog. She turned to stare out at the ships. She walked a few paces and looked over her shoulder. The stare moved with her and she felt it, in a way she only felt Varian’s eyes.
She was studying the doll, smiling absently to herself, walking down the lush green path to the beach she had gone to earlier with Varian, when out of nowhere she was startled to find Indy walking beside her.
Astonished, she stared at him for a moment. Then, annoyed she said, “How did you find me and why did spy upon me? I could feel you watching.”
A distinct rustle came from the grass. Merry looked over her shoulder. Pitt was somewhere, but she couldn’t see him.
Indy said, “Morgan told me where to find you, but ordered me to try not to let anyone see me. Concern over you, I imagine.”
Merry made a face. “Concern about what? My reputation? I think that is hardly a worry here.” Merry slipped her arm around his, holding him affectionately close to her. She’d missed the boy. “Well, I’m glad to see you, worry or not. It is nice to have a friend here.”
“So, it’s been rough on you? Morgan should be garroted for forcing you to cavort with the whores of Barataria.”
She felt the boy’s fast rising temper and quickly assured, “He didn’t force me. It was my choice to join him here. And it has not been completely unpleasant, so don’t be angry. I have enjoyed my stay ashore.”
Indy arched a brow. She looked away, knowing the look in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks betrayed to him her battle with Varian had ended some days passed.
His opiate eyes bore into her. Merry noted the strange glitter in their dark depths, misunderstood and quickly added, “I am well, Indy. There is no cause for your worry. I don’t need your protection. Not from Varian.”
She felt Indy receive her gentle rebuff. She wanted out of the tug of war between Indy and the Captain. She wasn’t at all sure what part she played in their never waning conflict.