Dedication
This book is dedicated to my father, Daniel Mullins, who did not live to see this book published, and to Kim Lewis, critique partner and friend
Chapter One
Jamaica, 1680
At last he knew the name of his enemy.
From the shadows of the garden, Alex peered into the ballroom and studied the faces of the couples who danced past the open doors. His mouth watered for the taste of revenge.
A laugh rippled from the ballroom as two people stopped in the entryway. With a low curse he retreated behind a large hibiscus bush, standing motionless until they moved on. Then he slipped from his hiding place and lingered in the shadows where he continued to watch.
Henry Morgan passed by the doorway. Dressed in fine scarlet silk, the lieutenant-governor of Jamaica had even deigned to wear his wig on this occasion, rather than the pirate bandana he so preferred. Alex stepped forward, then halted. He glanced from his casual black shirt and the dagger in his boot to the dark-skinned servant guarding the door.
“Blast,” he muttered. “Look this way, Morgan. See me.”
Morgan spoke to the lady on his arm, his booming voice merging with the music and rendering his words indistinguishable. Then he moved away.
Alex stabbed a hand through his long hair and let loose a harsh breath. “Bloody hell, Morgan. At this rate, I’ll be captured and you’ll have to preside at my execution.”
The sound of footsteps brought his head up like a wolf scenting prey. A tall woman with hair the color of a sunset swept out of the ballroom. With a quiet oath he pressed himself against the stone of the house and became one with the darkness.
Diana Covington stormed out into the garden. She snapped her silken skirts and kicked a nearby frangipani bush, scattering leaves everywhere. Papa’s business partner or not, one more interruption, one more suggestive leer, one more secret fondle, and Lord Chilton would lose a body part.
She stared at the damage she had wrought on the shrubbery and released one shaky breath. Then another. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, inhaling the loamy scent of damp earth as a soft breeze teased her hair. Insects sang their mating songs, playing harmony to the music drifting from the ballroom. Her shoulders sagged.
“Diana!”
Her eyes popped open, and serenity shattered like glass. Slowly she turned as if to face the executioner.
From the doorway of the ballroom, Chilton’s nasal tones trumpeted into the night. “Here you are, my dear. I knew you must have fled to escape the wretched heat of the ballroom.”
She bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. “Quite so, my lord.”
“You cannot wander the gardens alone and in the dark.” Chilton sauntered toward her, a tall thin man who dressed the fop and wore a blond, curling wig that fell over his shoulders. “I insist on accompanying you. A gentleman would see to your safety.”
“That will not be necessary, my lord. I was just returning to the dancing.”
He stepped in front of her as she tried to slip past him. “Stay, my dear. Enjoy the night air.”
“I have had enough.” Once more she tried to pass.
“But it is so dreadfully hot inside.” He held her arm with one hand and traced his fingers down her throat with the other. “Surely you, too, are feeling the…heat.”
“Stop it!” She peeled his hand from her arm as a barber would a leech. “I will thank you to keep your attentions to yourself!”
“Cease your maidenly protests, my dear.” He stepped close to her, his sharp features demonic in the eerie shadows of the garden. “There is no need to play the innocent. I know that you came out here so that we might be alone.”
“You are mistaken.”
“Am I?” He loomed over her, and she fell back a pace. “You are a woman of passion, Diana. You crave my attentions as a drunkard does his ale.” He advanced on her. She retreated until the harsh bark of a tree bit into her back. Here in the privacy of the garden he grew bolder. Here in the darkness anything might befall her.
Chilton trapped her with his body, bracing his arms on either side of her head. He bent toward her, his overwhelming cologne contending with the odor of his seldom-washed flesh. “You want me, Diana. I can see it in your face.”
Diana tensed at the lust that thickened his voice. She took a deep breath, her nose wrinkling. Grasping her skirts, she inched them up and moved her knee into position just as Chilton placed his hand on her breast.
“See how you tremble at my touch,” he whispered.
She dropped her skirts. “Don’t touch me, you lecher!” Jerking her arm upwards she landed a spectacular blow to his pointed nose with her flattened palm.
With a howl he clapped both hands to his face. She dodged around him. She took two paces before he grabbed her arm in a bruising grip and yanked her back against the tree. “You bitch,” he panted. With one hand he held a lace handkerchief to his swelling nose while he boxed her in with the other. “Lecher, am I? How dare you? You, the daughter of a common seaman!”
“I dare,” she snapped back. “Now release me, or—”
“Or what? You will scream?” With the deadly grace of an adder he tossed aside the bloody handkerchief and closed his hand over her windpipe. He squeezed until her eyes widened in alarm. “So easily could I crush your throat.”
“My lord, you misunderstand,” she rasped. “I am to meet someone…” His fingers tightened once around her throat, and she gasped for breath.
“I see no one else. Perhaps your swain has deserted you. All the better for me.”
“Nay, he comes. I swear he does.” She added a touch of disdain to her voice. “He will kill you if he sees us thus.”
Chilton’s nasty laugh echoed through the garden. “Where is this lover of yours? This man who would take you from me? We are alone.” Sliding his hand from her throat, he coiled his fingers into her hair. “I will have you here and now, my love. Then your father will certainly accept my suit.”
Her jaw dropped. “Your suit? You wish to marry me?”
“Of course. But Frederick keeps putting me off.” He touched his wet mouth to the bare skin at the base of her throat, then raised his triumphant gaze to hers. “After I have breached your maidenhead, he will have no choice but to see us wed.”
Diana stared at the man she had dismissed as a foolish fop. Before her very eyes he had transformed into a creature she didn’t recognize, someone dangerous and evil. Fear gripped her with icy talons. “My father will never agree to it.”
“He will see us wed,” Chilton assured her with cool menace, “or he will see his precious daughter’s reputation torn to shreds when word gets out of her whoring ways.”
“I think not.” The deep voice rang out from behind Chilton. Hope swelled in Diana’s breast as a man in black clothing stepped from the shadows. He stood half a head taller than Chilton, and his shoulders looked capable of supporting a cask of rum each. His white smile gleamed from the darkness shrouding him. “Should you harm this lady, I shall dispatch you to Hell with all expediency.”
“Who the devil are you?” Chilton demanded.
The stranger ignored him in favor of Diana. “Darling, are you all right?”
“‘Tis about time you arrived,” she cried in the voice of a woman who had waited too long.
“Do not be angry, my sweet.” He stepped forward. Grabbing a handful of Chilton’s coat, he thrust him aside like a discarded neck cloth. The nobleman stumbled and crashed to the ground. “I was unavoidably detained.”
Diana stepped away from the tree. Moonlight filtered through the leaves to sparkle off the gold earbobs her savior wore. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, and his black hair hung loose to his shoulders. His simple clothing marked him less t
han a gentleman, but he was all that stood between her and a future as Chilton’s unwilling bride.
“Have you nothing to say, my sweet?” the stranger prompted. “I pray no angry words will pass your lips.”
Chilton scrambled to his feet. Diana darted close to the stranger’s side, and he settled his well-muscled arm about her waist. “I am not angry,” she said.
“I am,” snarled Chilton. He attempted to straighten his crooked wig. “I demand you unhand my future bride.”
The stranger looked at Diana and arched an eyebrow. “You would marry this?”
“I would rather swim naked through sharks.”
He swept his gaze over her body. “A fascinating image.”
“Diana!” Chilton’s voice cracked with outrage. “Such disgraceful language shames you.”
“Are you still here?” The stranger regarded Chilton as if he were a mongrel pup that had followed him home. “I suggest you leave now.”
“Do you know who I am?” Chilton sniffed and looked down his beak-like nose. “I am a peer of the realm, you baseborn cur. And who might you be? A stable hand?”
“No.” With a smile, the stranger drew a pistol. The barrel of the weapon gleamed in the half-light as he pointed it at Chilton. “I am the man who will blow a hole through your empty head unless you take yourself off. Now.”
Chilton’s jaw worked as he stared at the pistol. The stranger cocked the weapon, and the click of the hammer made Chilton jump as if he had already been shot.
“I suggest you hurry, my lord.” That white smile flashed again. “I think I feel my finger slipping.”
Diana snickered as her thwarted suitor fled the garden as fast as his legs would carry him. Her rescuer chuckled as well and uncocked the weapon with an ease that betrayed his experience in handling it.
“That went well.” He shoved the pistol into the black sash around his waist and looked down at her. “Are you unharmed?”
“Yes.” She pushed away from him. His arm fell from her waist, but the heat of his touch lingered. “Thank you, sir, for helping me. Lord Chilton was becoming most persistent.”
“Chilton?” The way he spat the name made her fall back a step. “That was Chilton?”
“Yes.”
His expression hardened as he followed the nobleman’s path with his cold-eyed gaze. “Chilton,” he whispered.
Diana shivered from the icy rage that cloaked the word. She realized that she knew nothing about this man. What if he was dangerous? Her heart pounding, she asked, “Who are you?”
He paused for a long moment. When he spoke again, his words were calm. “Does it matter?”
“I would know the name of the man who rescued me,” she said softly.
“You may call me Alex.”
“I am Diana.” She took a shaky breath and continued, “While I thank you for your intervention, I would know its cause. You are, after all, a stranger trespassing on my property. Perhaps you mean me harm.”
“Would you believe me if I said I do not?”
“I would.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You are a most trusting young woman.”
“Do not mistake trust for stupidity, sir.”
“Never.”
Holding out a hand, she warned, “And do not mock me.”
“Of course not.” He clasped her hand and brushed his lips over the back of it, the gesture oddly aristocratic for one not of the gentry. “Do you need an escort back to the ballroom? I will be happy to offer my services.”
A blush crept into her cheeks, and she tugged her hand from his grasp. “Lord Chilton is by nature an arrogant coward. He would not want anyone to know that I had refused his advances. Or that another man had sent him scurrying off like an insect exposed to light. I shall be quite safe.”
“I understand.” He glanced down at his plain, serviceable black clothing. “You do not wish to be seen with a man of my class.”
She bit her lip in consternation. Her encounter with Chilton would have damaged her reputation, but entering the ballroom with a dangerous-looking man like he would start the tongues wagging for certain. “Thank you for your concern, but I believe ‘tis best we part here. I can handle myself.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
She correctly interpreted his skepticism and tilted her chin with pride. “If you are thinking of the incident with Lord Chilton, I was about to extricate myself when you appeared. You gave me no chance to do so.”
“Oh? And what would you have done, wench, if the fool had done…this?” He took her by her shoulders and yanked her against his body.
She curled her fingers into the muscles of his chest and gave him a sweet, innocent smile. “I would do this.”
She stomped her foot. Hard. He moved his own just in time. She fell against him, and they both went down in a flurry of petticoats and curses.
Alex relished the jolt of pleasure as her feminine body sprawled on top of his. She struggled to sit up, muttering unladylike oaths under her breath as she regained control of her layers of skirts. Then she pushed her hair out of her face and gave him a look of triumph from her perch astride him.
He wanted her.
The thought struck hard and without warning, like a shot to the broadside. Denial followed. He had no time for a woman, nothing to offer her. He could not afford to be distracted. Not when he sought a murderer.
“Are you all right?” She tilted her head, her lips curving in an impish smile. “I did not mean to injure you.”
“You did not.” The words came out more harshly than he intended. He regretted the necessity, but reminded himself that it was best to deny his desire now, in its infancy.
“I disagree.” She raked his supine form with obvious pride. “You, sir, are bested.”
He rolled, toppling her to the ground. Pinning her under him, he immobilized her flailing limbs with ease. “Am I?”
“Release me at once.” She squirmed. “Sir, this is not the act of a gentleman.”
“Who said I was a gentleman? You are certainly no lady.” He grinned down at her. “Perhaps I acted precipitously in coming to your rescue.”
She glared at him. “You are no better than Lord Chilton.”
He stiffened, a chill entering his blood. “Had I been Chilton,” he breathed, “you would have found your skirts tossed some time ago and your maidenhead a mere memory.”
He released her and stood, holding out a hand. She took it, and he helped her to her feet. Then she pulled away and began to fuss with her gown.
As he watched her slender hands straighten her clothing, he tamped down his sexual urges and focused on the matter at hand.
“Please accept my apologies,” he said. “I did not intend for things to go so far.”
“Oh?” She brushed clinging soil from the back of her skirt with a vicious swipe of her hand. “And just what did you intend?”
“I need your help.”
“Do you?” She bent to examine a piece of torn lace hanging from the hem of her gown.
“I must get into the ballroom.”
She glanced up at him sharply. “Why?”
He hesitated. “I would rather not say. I thought that since I helped you out of a difficult situation—”
“You bounder!” She straightened so fast he expected to hear her spine snap. “You used me!”
A disavowal hovered on his lips, but she continued before he could express it.
“I thought you were being chivalrous…” She pressed her lips together, as if she had betrayed a confidence. “Is that the only reason you aided me? To make me so grateful that I would help you get into the house?”
“Of course not…”
“And what do you intend to do once you have gained entrance to my home? Steal the silver?”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, exasperated.
“I will bid you good evening, sir. And I will be sure to alert the servants that there is a trespasser on the grounds!” She spun away from him in a swath
of upswept skirts and bouncing curls.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. His own temper simmered as he recalled how he had risked discovery to help her. His very life hung in the balance.
“You ungrateful wench,” he growled. “I just saved you from losing your virtue to that strutting popinjay, and this is how you thank me? What would you do if I had saved you from drowning, toss me overboard?”
“Do not be ridiculous.” She tugged at her arm. Unable to break his grip, she sent him a look of cold fury. “I would tie the anchor to your feet first.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That mouth of yours will get you into trouble.”
“Not as much trouble as you will have when I scream.”
As she opened her mouth to carry out her threat, Alex pulled her close and stopped the cry with a kiss.
The taste of her exploded through him, as exhilarating as standing barefoot on deck while a storm rocked his ship. He rediscovered the thrill of pitting his wits and his will against an impressive force of nature as he held this spirited young woman in his arms. With such a woman a man could be tempted to forsake even that most demanding of mistresses, the sea.
The idea so unsettled him that he jerked away from Diana as if she were the devil’s own daughter. She stared at him with eyes the color of storm clouds. A flush graced her cheeks, and her lips, moist from his kiss, parted.
He wanted her, but he could not have her. He retreated behind the rakish facade that had always served him well.
“Now that was surely a proper show of gratitude, my sweet,” he quipped. “But despite your lusty eagerness I must take my leave. Mayhap we will meet again.” He ignored the shock that swept across her features and sketched a mocking bow. It was better for both of them if he disappeared from her life. Turning away from her, he melted into the night.
Diana stared after him, straining to see some trace of him in the shadows. She found herself touching her lips with wondering fingers and snatched her hand away. She would tell her father about the intruder. And she would have the servants beat the bushes for him. With their muskets. Aye, and she would be gracious when they flushed him out like a frightened quail, and she would listen to his pleas for mercy.
Once a Mistress Page 1