“Señor,” she responded silkily, with just the appropriate amount of persuasion in her voice, “already you have made this interlude most unforgettable. But you would not mind it if I preferred our freedom to your hospitable gesture?” She gazed at him sweetly.
D’Alava laughed heartily, filling the room with his deep voice. “Stewart, you will have trouble denying this woman anything, most assuredly!” Eying Sarah appreciatively, and noticing once again her pleased acceptance of her husband’s affectionate touch, he continued, “How I detest pressing the issue, but as it is difficult to get good help these days, I must beg your collective indulgences – at least for a fortnight or two. You see, my island paradise suffers from, how do you say, benign neglect. And if the work were left entirely to my rather small tripulación and the local residentes, it would take more time than we could afford to devote to it. Captain,” he said, turning to Jeremiah, “I assure you that your men will not be worked overhard and that their rations will be considerably more bountiful that even you provide.”
Slade knew, of course, that he had no choice, but he did risk one request. “May I ask that they not be jailed, Señor? My crew is loyal and will obey the orders I give them. I will take full responsibility for their cooperation.”
“Your beautiful sister-in-law has put me in a most benevolent mood, Slade,” d’Alava replied, nodding to the sweet-faced lady at his side. “I will say si for the time being. But if any one of your crew should step out of line, they will all be punished.” The gentleness of his tone made his words all the more ominous, and Sarah forced back the urge to shudder.
“Agreed,” Jeremiah responded firmly. “Señor,” Sarah interrupted softly, giving his coat sleeve the slightest touch, “would you mind terribly if I asked Stewart to take me for a short stroll on deck before I retire? I am afraid the smoke has given me a slight headache.”
“But of course, Señora Chamberlain. You should have said something earlier,” he scolded, stubbing out his expensive cheroot. “Come, let us all go. A night such as this should not be wasted,” he said, taking her hand to help her rise from the chair.
This was definitely not her plan, but Sarah hid her disappointment behind a grateful smile and moved past d’Alava to the door held open by Jeremiah. They filed out, and upon reaching the main deck, d’Alava grasped Sarah’s arm and linked it with his own, intending to be her partner on the walk. Sarah glanced back to see Stewart’s eyes narrow in the moonlight as he fell in step with Jeremiah. She turned back just as d’Alava’s man, Turgot, appeared out of nowhere to speak with him. She gasped in surprise; the large, ugly man was frightening in any case, but more so when suddenly materializing in the dark.
“Turgot,” d’Alava said sharply, as Stewart came up to Sarah’s open side, “your timing is abominable, as usual. What is it?”
As the problem involved the ship, Jeremiah left with their captors, allowing Stewart and Sarah a few moments alone. After d’Alava’s touch, she was grateful for Stewart’s possessive arm around her waist as they strolled toward the bow of the ship. They spoke ever so softly, sensing rather than seeing the presence of the pirate crew. “Did you expect d’Alava to keep us on his island,” Sarah whispered, looking up into Stewart’s eyes and feeling the softness of his velvet lapel against her cheek.
“I’mnotsurprised,butIhadhopedwecould have avoided it. Every extra minute we spend in his hold creates opportunities for something to go awry.” Feeling her stiffen, he pulled her closer, running his hand up and down her sleeve. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to frighten you.” His tone was so sincere, she had no wish to back away as he drew her to his chest, resting his chin on her scented hair. After all, they were newlyweds. The crew would expect no less. Gazing out onto the moon-spangled water, he spoke gently, “We will all reach our destination sooner or later, no small thanks to you.”
She raised her head quickly, expecting to see a sarcastic sneer, but his eyes conveyed his sincerity. Lifting her hands to rest lightly on his waist, her voice trembled with skepticism. “What do you mean?”
Ashishandshadbeenhoveringaboutherall evening, it did not surprise her now when he took her upturned face between them, brushing away a stray curl that had been caught by the breeze. “Your performance has been impeccable. You are ever a delightful surprise, Sarah. D’Alava is enchanted ... and so am I.”
Later she was to reflect that it was the first honest kiss they had ever shared. Its sweetness sprang from mutual respect. Stewart was proud of her, and she was pleased to know he was not above admitting it. The gentle pressure of his lips was not intended to light a fire, but it did, and he knew it. But he chose not to press his advantage, and for that she was grateful. He seemed content to nuzzle her face, holding her close, letting her find comfort and strength in his nearness, which she did but could not understand why.
Anticipating d’Alava’s return, Stewart suggested, after a bit, that they might be wise to head back to their cabin, thus sparing her having to deal with the Señor again that night. They gained the haven safely and Stewart informed her that he would make the necessary excuses for her as he lit the lamp next to the berth.
The bed. There was only one and though it was hefty by ships’ standards, it could not be considered large enough for two, comfortably. Sharing it with Tegan had been barely adequate. Sarah blushed to think what a tangle would result if Stewart’s long body joined hers on the linens. He would simply have to sleep on the floor, she decided, but for some reason, could not summon the will to speak aloud, quite certain an argument would ensue.
As Stewart moved easily about the barely lit room, Sarah slumped on the bed and began removing her shoes. What should she say? Every idea that popped into her head would surely destroy the rather pleasant truce that now existed between them. So busy were her thoughts that she didn’t notice Stewart had stopped looking into drawers and had gone back to the door until he spoke. “I’m going to lock the door from the outside while I’m off to join Jeremiah and d’Alava. I may be gone for a while. Do you need anything?”
“No,” she answered meekly, deciding to postpone the inevitable. “Thank you. Goodnight.” But as the door shut, she remembered one very important detail, and rushed to the door, tripping over her shoes on the way. “Ouch. Stewart?” she called, slapping the door with her palm. He reappeared, looking surprised and much taller now that Sarah was in her stocking feet.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” “Nothing ....” she looked up momentarily, then, embarrassed, cast her eyes down at her wriggling toes. “My gown ... the buttons?”
“Of course,” he replied, stepping back into the room and closing the door. “Turn around.” Despite the darkness, his speed at unbuttoning was twice as fast as buttoning, a skill in which experience played a major part, Sarah allowed, with some degree of wry humor. “There you go. Goodnight,” Stewart offered pleasantly, adding a playful pat on her bottom. Sarah whirled around, a cross look on her face, but Stewart was already closing the door.
Knowing he would give her adequate time, Sarah carefully prepared for bed, donning her most voluminous nightgown, leaving on her chemise and silk stockings. She washed her face, brushed her hair until it shown, and tucked it under a gauzy nightcap.
She threw back the flowered coverlet and climbed into the semi-soft bed, lying down stiffly on the outside edge. There! That would discourage him from thinking she planned to share. But what if he tried to crawl over her? She wriggled over to the inside, huddling herself against the wall. Now that was an open invitation, she decided. Cursing under her breath, she rolled to the center, beating the pillows as she attempted to make herself comfortable. Lying rigidly on her back, she raised her head, peering left, then right, in order to judge her position. What she discovered was that Stewart would have just enough room to sleep on either side of her, if he were so inclined.
“Blast!” With an exasperated grunt, she sailed one of the pillows to the carpet, and followed it with the coverlet, which landed in a heap o
n the floor. Flopping kitty-corner on the berth, she punched her pillow and wrenched her nightgown free from its hopeless tangle around her body, muttering, “If he’s too thick to figure that out, he’s no threat to me!”
CHAPTER 21
Sarah awoke to the feeling of bright light pressing against her eyelids. Rubbing away the sleep, she forced her mind into wakefulness, wondering why Tegan did not call out her usual greeting. She started to rake her hands through her hair and felt instead the nightcap. Pulling it off, she considered it sleepily, not sure why it had been on her head.
At the sound of a deep cough originating from the center of the room, Sarah froze, reality coming back to her in one great leap. Stewart! Turning her head abruptly, she took in his long form seated casually at the table. His back was to her but she could see that he was studying a map laid out before him. He was dressed in his usual daily attire: fawn breeches, a linen shirt and knee length boots. Remembering that she had thrown a pillow and blanket on the rug the night before, she looked to see evidence that he had slept in the designated spot. Her stomach lurched when she noticed the pillow next to her head and the coverlet draped neatly over her body. Surely he hadn’t...? She could recall nothing.
Stewart looked over his shoulder just in time to catch the perplexed furrow of Sarah’s delicately arched brows, and he smiled with sure knowledge of her thoughts. “Good morning, my sweet. Would you care to join me for a cup of hot chocolate? Compliments of our generous pirate.”
Sarah raised herself up tentatively making sure the blankets stayed snug around her neck. A sleepy yawn escaped her, momentarily erasing the worried set of her face, but it reappeared immediately as she nervously pushed her dark hair back from her face. “Can I fetch your dressing gown?” Stewart asked pleasantly, pushing his chair back and rising to stand next to the bunk, his left elbow supporting him as he lounged against the gleaming casement.
Hisloomingpresenceandself-confident manner were nerve-wracking, and Sarah found herself responding breathlessly. “In the wardrobe ... on the door.” With a nod, he walked across the room to her closet. Sarah took the opportunity to peak under the covers to see if she was still intact. Yes, the nightgown was securely buttoned and she could feel the soft chemise next to her skin. Her toes wriggled in their white stockings. Relaxing a small whit, she lowered the covers to find Stewart calmly watching her.
“Looking for something?” His smugness infuriated her and she snatched the robe from his fingers, punching her fists through the sleeves as she struggled to don it. With a chuckle, Stewart resumed his seat and turned to pour a cup of chocolate from the china pot on the table. Sarah scurried to climb out of bed, straightening her clothes and securely tying the wide sash around her tiny waist. Eying him suspiciously, she took a chair opposite him as he set the cup and saucer before her.
“Did you sleep well?” was his cheerful remark.
“Did you?” she snapped.
“Notawink,”herepliedcalmly,hiseyes trained on the paper he was folding. Sarah softened a bit, feeling more comfortable. “I suppose it might have been difficult, getting used to the floor.”
“But I did not bed down on the floor.” A mirthful expression crossed his face as he saw her blue eyes widen in horror. “Really, Sarah. We are supposed to behave like newlyweds. How could I explain my having to sleep on the floor when my beguiling bride is so enticing, even in repose?”
“What a rakehell you are to take advantage of our situation!” Sarah’s cheeks blazed as she grabbed the edge of the table in a futile effort to control her fury. “No one would ever know what our sleeping arrangements are, and if they did, you could have made an excuse. Damn you, Stewart Chamberlain!” she hissed, her wrath full blown. “You are so clever when you want to be, but you opt for a dim-witted tack when you know it will compromise me! And stop laughing, you loathsome lecher!”
“Are you always such a spitfire in the morning?” Stewart’s tone was cajoling, enragingly serene. “I will be mindful to keep my distance until you’ve have a chance to wake up completely. Now if you will just rest from your exercise of jumping to conclusions ....”
“You actually expect no protest from me?” she charged. “Lest you forget, I am a lady ... in both title and character. Not some dockside convenient or enterprising courtesan. Yet already I have been subjected to a humiliating lack of privacy that would brand me a Paphian were anyone to find out. You are ruining me, Mr. Chamberlain, and I won’t stand for it!”
“Are you finished?” His answer came in the form of two slender hands raised in claw-like fashion accompanied by the hissing sound of a cat. With maddening tranquility, he proceeded. “I did not sleep because I spent the entire night in a rather challenging game of cards with d'Alava and our captain. Your complaint of a headache was all I needed to gain a seat in the match. Otherwise they would have thought it strange that I would prefer gambling to your hypnotic charms. You see? I am not completely unsympathetic to your plight,” he added with a cherubic smile.
“You let me believe ....” Sarah began, her voice rising in choler with each world. “Tut, tut,” Stewart rebuked her goodnaturedly, getting up from his chair. “You leapt to conclusions my dear ... one of your more tiresome habits.” Sarah chose not to respond, feeling for the moment that her relief was enough satisfaction, but having a great urge to poke out her tongue at him. With a haughty look at his retreating form, she turned her attention to the cup of chocolate before her, but was forced to take note of him again as he leveled a parting comment at the door, his brown eyes dancing. “I might add, for future reference, that when I do sleep with you, you won’t be wondering in the morning if it truly occurred.”
As usual, he was right. This fact was proven to Sarah the very next night, after the ships sailed their way into the tangled maze of islands that created a safe haven for d’Alava’s pirate kingdom. After disembarking from the long boats, the crew was sent under Jeremiah’s watchful eye to dilapidated quarters off the southern shore. Sarah’s heart lurched when she saw the meager form of her maid trudging wearily beside Ezra, who stoically pretended not to watch out for her.
“Stewart,” she whispered pleadingly, as the two watched the proceedings from the deck. “We can’t let Tegan stay in that hovel with the others. Is there anything you can do?”
“We’re going to try to get her duties in the kitchen,” he replied softly, observing the sailors’ march. “Then perhaps she’ll be allowed to sleep in the main house where we will be staying. But we can’t press for too many favors, Sarah,” he added, his arm coming around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. “It would arouse suspicions, which would be more harmful to Tegan than her present situation. Come now, sweet,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against her soft hair. “Hide your distress. D’Alava is approaching.”
“Are you two lovebirds ready to disembark?” The Spaniard’s voice boomed cheerily behind them as he made his way to Sarah’s side. “I believe you two might be looking forward to a night on dry land, where the only rolling is of your own making.” He laughed at his own joke, even more so when he saw the embarrassed blush spread across Sarah’s cheeks.
“Your dwelling is well hid, Señor,” Stewart interjected, and Sarah was so grateful for his intercession that she moved back easily against his chest as he turned toward the pirate. “I see no trace of a settlement from here.”
“’Tis the advantage of a tropical jungle, Mr. Chamberlain, as well you know. Believe it or not, my home is but a short walk from the beach. The village stretches to the west.” He pointed over the lush greenery. “Come, I see the longboat is returning. I’d like to show you around my humble abode before nightfall. The natives will unload the cargo in the morning.”
Humble was right. Not in size, for the main house was three stories high and had two doublestoried wings attached to either side. But unlike any home Sarah had ever entered, d’Alava’s mansion was almost completely without ornamentation. The walls were plainly white-washed and there was not a trac
e of fine moldings or paneling throughout. Roughly–constructed bamboo shades took the place of draperies in some rooms, but most rooms were without any window adornments, or even glass. D’Alava’s “palace” was kingly only in its spaciousness and the haphazardly-scattered array of rugs, furnishings, and silver and gold artifacts his piracy had netted him over the years. Sarah noted, too, with a shudder, that the house was in need of a thorough cleaning.
“Have you servants, Señor?” she asked, hoping her tone was casual. “Ofcourse,mydear.ButI’venoneedof them unless I am in residence. Turgot has gone to round them up from the village. Let me show you to your rooms, and I’ll have one of the maids draw you a bath when she arrives.”
With a paternal smile, he took her arm and led her up the wide staircase to a door on the southern side of the large foyer. Stewart followed, carrying a small case containing some of their personal items. “This,” he announced, opening the double portal, “is your sitting room. See how lovely the breeze? It’s shaded here so we’ve dispensed with window coverings.”
“And with furniture as well,” Stewart drawled upon entering the room. It was true. Aside from a huge Persian rug, the entire room was bare.
Waving away Stewart’s comment, d’Alava sputtered impatiently. “That will be taken care of in good time. There are plenty of settees and chairs around here. We don’t have guests very often, so this room was never decorated. What do you care?” he added, his voice changing suddenly to a teasing quality. “You won’t be spending much time in here.” With that, he sprung open the doors to the bedchamber, and gestured for his guests to follow.
Sarah wandered reluctantly into the room, stopping dead in her tracks when she spied the thing which d’Alava was so eager for them to see. She would have stayed riveted there were it not for Stewart pushing her ahead of him. “Eh? You are speechless, no?” the pirate chuckled, clapping his hands in pleasure. “’Twas a gift from the French. And as you know, their skill in bed making is exceeded only by their expertise beneath the covers. Well, what do you think?”
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