“Yes, we heard the shouting next door,” said James. “Pregnant or not, she can’t take the chance since you’re . . .”
“Dying?” supplied William.
The others remained silent.
“You have to marry her,” insisted James. “You have to tell her the truth.”
“Aye, the truth. I’m sure she’ll jump at my proposal when I tell her she’s going to be a widow—perhaps saddled with a babe—in a few months.”
A rancid bitterness climbed up his throat at the thought of leaving Maddie and possibly his child. He trembled with an uncontrollable pressure in his chest, and he wanted to roar like a trapped bear being bated by a sadistic fate.
“There isn’t much furniture left in the room,” quipped Edmund, glancing at the broken table and chair, sensing his brother’s eminent outburst. “You’ll have to pummel the bed.”
“Piss off,” snapped William.
“The wedding will have to wait,” from James. “I have an idea about the pirates.”
William clenched his palms. “You are not taking on the pirates.”
The very thought triggered a dull, pulsing ache in his head. He wasn’t dead yet, damn it! And he refused to be cast aside like a bloody invalid. He had promised Maddie he’d rescue her grandfather, and he’d every intention of keeping his word!
“No, I’m not,” returned James, strangely cool-tempered. “I’ll leave that to you, Will.” He pointed at the chart. “I will stay a league away with the women aboard my ship. As you approach the sheltered bay, the unexpected sight of your guns and my shadow on the horizon should be enough to force a surrender. Quincy and Eddie will remain on board the Nemesis with you; they both know the vessel well after serving aboard her for so many years. If we time the attack just right, in the early morning hours, we won’t have to fire a single canon.”
His brother’s logic was sound, and William offered a brusque nod of approval.
“Are you sure her grandfather is alive?” asked Edmund. “The ransom note is vague and written in a lazy hand.”
“Or an illiterate one,” offered James. “There’s still the matter of the ring that accompanied the letter.”
“Dead or alive, Maddie wants her grandfather home.” said William, ending the debate.
“Well, then, I bid you goodnight.”
Edmund dropped the note on the desk and left the cabin, Belle at his heels. She hadn’t said a word during the conversation, nor looked in his direction once, making his gut churn with remorse.
James soon followed her out the door, leaving Quincy and William alone in the room. As the frustrating seconds elapsed, and the treacherous pup still lingered, William snarled, “Get out.”
Quincy turned from the scuttle. “I’m sorry, Will.”
“Well, I don’t forgive you for breaking your word.”
“Oh, I’m not sorry about that,” he returned, flippant. “The family deserved to know the truth.”
His fists balled again. “Then what the hell are you apologizing for?”
“I cursed you, you know?”
William’s heart rammed against his chest. “You cursed me? To die?”
“What? No! I would never do such a thing.”
“Not even after I forced you to marry Holly?”
A short time ago, Quincy had found himself in a compromising situation with a viscount’s daughter, and while innocent of the charge of seducing the girl, he’d still refused to follow proper etiquette and marry the woman, saving her reputation. It was then William had intervened, threatened Quincy with banishment if he didn’t propose to the lass and set things right.
“I was furious with you at the time, I admit,” said Quincy. “It’s why I cursed your stone heart, willing a tempestuous wench to one day storm your life and wreck it to bits.”
“You’re a bloody ass.”
“I am apologizing, don’t forget.”
“Get. Out.”
Quincy sauntered toward the door. “I also want to thank you, Will. Holly is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
William’s heart quivered, then spasmed. As the door shut behind his brother, he heaved a giant breath, strapped for air.
God, what he wouldn’t give to have a long life with Maddie. She, too, was the best thing that had ever happened to him, curse or no curse.
CHAPTER 14
Madeline had had enough. She was determined to uncover the truth behind William’s peculiar behavior. He seemed dismayed by his family’s arrival, yet he loved the lot of them, she knew. He’d threatened to hang her to protect them. Now their presence aboard ship had brought about a startling tension. And why had he proposed to her, nay, demanded they wed, when he’d never even suggested the idea before that day?
A rap at the door; it snapped her from her meditation.
She opened the barrier and lifted a brow. “Captain Hawkins.”
“James,” he said. “There can only be one captain aboard a ship.”
“What can I do for you, James?”
He entered the cabin without waiting for an invitation, his ominous presence filling the small space.
She shut the door behind him. “Do come in.”
After prowling the room for a moment, he dropped into a chair. “I have the unenviable task of pleading my brother’s case—for your hand in marriage.”
She folded her hands across her lap. “I don’t see how this concerns you?”
“It concerns you and it concerns my brother, so it concerns me.”
She had forgotten the Hawkins family banded together no matter the circumstances, that they looked out for each other’s happiness—unlike hers. And just the thought of being part of such a family warmed her to the idea of marriage. Not that she was prepared to accept William’s proposal. At least, not until she had some answers . . . and James’ unexpected arrival may just be the boon she was looking for.
She joined him at the table. “I will listen to your case.”
“I’m not a matchmaker,” he groused. “But the affair between you and William must be settled—permanently.”
Another threat? He was no better than his brother at proposals. Did all Hawkins men club their women over the heads and drag them to the altars?
But Madeline maintained her temper. She wanted to know the truth about William.
“Our affair is complicated,” she said.
“Isn’t every affair with a woman?”
He sounded like he spoke from miserable experience.
“William and I have a delicate arrangement.”
“An arrangement, eh?”
“He isn’t interested in marriage; he’s never even broached the matter—until today. Why?”
His blue eyes shifted from one end of the room to the other. “He realized you might be pregnant.”
“Today?”
“Aye, today.”
“I find it hard to believe a man of such foresight and planning failed to consider the matter before today.”
James growled, “He’s not been thinking straight of late.”
“Why? His headaches?”
“You know about the headaches? Anything else?”
“What else is there?”
“Blimey.” He shot out of the chair, startling her. “I should have sent one of the women to convince you to marry him.” And he headed for the door, disgruntled.
“James, tell me!”
He stilled.
She whispered, “Tell me what’s happening?”
He sighed, keeping his back to her. “You need to ask William that question.”
And he left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Madeline fisted her hands. She circled the cabin for a few restless minutes, stirring up her strength, before she squared her shoulders and stalked toward William’s cabin.
The moment she reached the door, her intention to barge into the room withered away. Instead, she quietly opened the door and scanned the space. The broken furniture unnerved her. William’s
prostrate body in bed disarmed her.
She dropped her shoulders. A part of her didn’t want to know the truth anymore, sensing it was painful, perhaps too painful to bear. Another part urged her to learn the truth, however painful, and reconcile with it.
Slowly she approached the bed, her footfalls light. His arm was slumped over his brow. If he was asleep, she didn’t want to startle him.
“Hullo, Maddie.”
“You heard me?”
“I can smell your perfume.”
He slipped his forearm from his brow and gazed at her with a heart wrenching mixture of passion and pain.
She realized, then, she didn’t want to hear the truth, after all.
She kneeled beside the bed. “Just tell me one thing.”
“What is it?”
“How does the sentence end?”
He looked at her, confused.
She recited, “I am a damn siren you can’t get out of your head, your blood, your . . . ? Finish the sentence, William, and I will marry you, however it ends.”
He shut his eyes. The muscles in his jaw clenched, squaring his features. At last, he opened his eyes and took an uneven breath.
As he struggled to sit on the edge of the bed, he teetered, and she reached for his arm in support.
After a few more hardy breaths, he cupped her cheeks. “You are a damn siren I can’t get out of my head, my blood, my heart. I love you, Maddie.”
Her eyes welled with tears. She breathed in the magical words that chased away the guilt, the bitterness, the wretched loneliness in her soul, and smiled, quivering, as brilliant light filled her heart.
“But you wish you didn’t love me,” she said softly. “I can hear it in your broken voice. I’m not good enough for you, your family because of my past.”
“No! I just . . . I just wish I had met you sooner.”
His inexplicable response unsettled her, and before she could ask him for an explanation, he resorted to old tactics and kissed her soundly, silencing her.
“Will you marry me?” he whispered.
“Aye,” she said, breathless.
CHAPTER 15
The next morning, the family gathered aboard the Bonny Meg for the wedding ceremony. The decks were scrubbed clean, the sails billowing. The Union Jack had been hoisted now that they were in British waters.
Madeline had borrowed a pink lace and chiffon dress from Cousin Amy for the occasion. Its flowing hemline was just right for a sultry, outdoor wedding. Her hair was braided and pined in swirls, garnished with lavender, which was carried on board for medicinal purposes. And her bouquet consisted of other fragrant herbs from the galley, tied with ribbon.
Madeline soon stood across from William, adorned in dark breeches and polished boots. His shirt was crisp white, his black vest pressed, and a short red scarf was knotted around his neck. The wind teased his ebony locks, and she considered him the most handsome man she had ever seen. His gaze connected with hers, and their eyes never wavered from one another.
As James stood between them, reciting a few lines about matrimony, she scarcely heard the vows . . . or the lapping waves against the ship’s hull and the creaking deck boards, the taut ropes groaning under pressure and the sails swelling beneath gusts of air. The marine noises sounded like distant whispers. There was only the heavy drumbeat of her heart pounding in her ears, and a fluttering sensation in her belly that distracted her from her surroundings.
At some point, she heard the words “man and wife” and heaved a desperate breath, as if her head had been below water up until that time. The instant they were wed, a resounding cheer spread across the ship and rice peppered the air.
Madeline’s blood surged ever harder as her husband—her husband—stepped toward her and pinned her flushed cheeks between his palms, bussing her lips with a sweet, soft kiss.
“Hurrah!” from the crew and family again.
And she smiled, the moment perfect.
Dancing, drinking and food soon followed and lasted into the night. Many of the sailors were talented musicians and lutes and fiddles filled the starry sky with festive folks tunes. Feet stomped in reels and salted fish roasted over iron stoves, making the nautical reception as brilliant as any ball in London.
Of course, the ribald taunts started soon enough, crude smooching noises and teasing remarks about the wedding night from the drunken crew—and her new brothers-in-law.
Madeline had just finished a jig with Cousin Edmund, breathless, when the innuendos heated her already rosy cheeks. She glanced at William, leaning against the main mast, a tin mug in his hand. He watched her with such an intensity in his eyes, her lungs gasped for air.
After several more moments of silent observation, he sauntered toward her and the cacophony of bawdy voices increased. As he extended his hand, she blushed down to her toes. “Let’s get away from this ruckus,” he said in a smoky voice, his eyes just as smoldering.
She took his offered hand, so hot. He clamped hers in a protective, unmistakably possessive hold, and she shuddered at the newfound intimacy between a husband and wife.
William escorted her to a cabin that had been especially prepared for them, alight with lamps and dressed with fresh bedding. At the washstand, a bowl of steaming water, oil and herbs infused the room with the aroma of a wild garden.
Madeline heard the latch shut behind her, and her heart pounced with anticipation.
“You look lovely,” he murmured.
“Thank you.”
Her skin prickled with gooseflesh, and she twisted her fingers in an absentminded fashion. She had spent many nights in William’s arms, his bed. Why was the thought of being with him now so very different?
“I need help with the buttons at the back of my dress.”
His heavy footfalls approached her—and stilled. She heard his labored breathing, sensed his robust strength. He was inches away from her, but it was still too far. She wanted him even closer, deeper.
At last he touched her. She tightened under the tender brush of his knuckle at the nape of her neck before he grazed the curvature of her spine, right down to the small of her back.
The long, slow, and blatantly sensual, stroke ignited her blood, and she quivered with longing. But after the sensuous touch, he moved away from her, stopping beside the scuttle.
Her throat dry with want, she asked, hoarse, “What’s the matter?”
He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes covered by shadows. “I don’t think we should have a wedding night, Maddie.”
“Why? Do you have headache?”
He shook his head in denial.
If he wasn’t ill, then . . . “You don’t want to be with me anymore?”
He had performed his duty. He had married her, securing her reputation and that of any babe, but now he rebuffed their marital relationship: a relationship he’d never wanted until his brothers had forced him to do the honorable thing.
“I want to be with you,” he rasped with vehemence. “Always.”
And she sighed with indescribable relief. “What’s wrong, then?”
He pulled a letter from his trouser pocket, stared at it for a moment before he said, “This is the note I wrote to my sister: the one I asked you to deliver upon your return to England.” He handed her the sealed message. “I’d like you to read it.”
Madeline took the familiar paper, her fingers trembling. She also took in a fortifying breath. She knew, intuitively, the letter was going to change her life forever.
Tears filled her eyes even before she broke the wax seal, and anger replaced the want in her bones. He would deny her the pleasure of a wedding night, she thought with bitterness. Her first night in his arms as his wife would be dashed by the devastating news in the letter. And she knew the news was devastating. She felt the weight of the words in her hand; it pressed on her palm, her arm, her body until she dropped in a chair, unable to stand.
~ * ~
A welter of feeling raged in William’s breast as he watche
d his wife collapse in a chair, holding the letter in her quivering hand. He wanted to snatch the blasted note from her and tear it into pieces, to make love to her one last time . . . but if she wasn’t pregnant, it was better she remained that way. He wouldn’t take her to bed, knowing he’d leave her a widow with a child.
A selfish part of him didn’t give a damn about the future; he cursed it to hell. He had always done what was right, what was honorable, what was expected of him: the reasonable, levelheaded brother. And for once, he yearned to break the bars of his suffocating prison . . . but he couldn’t break anything without also breaking Maddie’s heart. And that hurt worse than any bullet in the chest.
She deserved to know his fate. As his wife, it was her fate, too.
Madeline opened the seal and unfurled the paper. Her eyes glazed over his penmanship, her features inscrutable.
His lungs seized as he waited for her response, and as the insufferable silence stretched, he wavered between addressing her and holding her . . . but soon the letter flittered from her fingers and gently touched the ground.
Without looking in his direction, she stood up and headed for the door, the heel of her shoe crushing the paper as she hastily retreated, rejecting him.
William girded his muscles, holding back a torrent of inexplicable, overwhelming emotion. It’s better this way, he told himself. It was better she hated him, so when he was gone, she wouldn’t mourn him. She wouldn’t feel any hurt. Yet still . . .
It was several minutes before he could breathe at a normal pace. Why was he feeling so damn much now? At the end of his life?
The moment he had the strength to walk, he thundered from the cabin, topside.
Amid the revelry, he searched for James. The second he spotted his eldest brother, he grabbed him by the arm and hauled him toward the edge of the ship.
“What the devil are you doing here?” demanded James. “If your wedding night is over already, I’ll be mighty . . .” The banter ended there. After a thoughtful pause, “You told her the truth, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he gritted.
James looked over his shoulder, searching for the bride, no doubt, but she wasn’t to be found on deck. “I’m sorry, Will.”
How to Steal a Pirate's Heart (The Hawkins Brothers Series) Page 8