by Bree Wolf
Oliver chuckled, ignoring the pain in his arm. “Those are the words any man longs to hear.” Violet laughed, her face glowing with joy as he had never seen it.
“I take it everything is fine over here?” Captain Duret asked as he stepped up behind his daughter. Then he lowered himself to his knees, examining Oliver’s wound. “It went straight through.”
Oliver nodded, glancing at Violet, a grin on his face. “So, I’ve heard.”
Captain Duret’s gaze was watchful as it travelled from Oliver to his daughter, and Oliver could see something changing in the man as though he had come to a decision. “Pierre,” he called over his shoulder before turning back to them. “My ship’s surgeon will look at your arm, but I expect you’ll make a full recovery.” Then he looked at his daughter, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”
Violet nodded, smiling at her father. “Thank you, Papa.”
Duret nodded and made to rise.
“Yes, thank you,” Oliver said before the man could leave. “Thank you for coming.” He glanced at Violet. “For protecting her.”
Duret shrugged his shoulders, a wry smile coming to his features. “She’s my daughter,” he said by way of explaining. “Nothing could ever keep me from her side.” Then he paused, and Oliver could feel the man’s gaze sweep over him, sizing him up. “As I see is true for you, I am relieved to say.” Inhaling a slow breath, Duret nodded. “I shall not doubt you again,” he said almost solemnly, “for you’ve earned my trust, and I do not grant it lightly.”
Touched, Oliver felt as though his heart would burst from his chest. Never in his life had he heard such words, at least not directed at him and especially not from his own father. Still, here, now, was a man, a father, who spoke those words in earnest and only after careful consideration. In fact, it was the unwavering look in the captain’s eyes that allowed Oliver to believe his words to be true. After all these years, someone had found him to be worthy after all. “Thank you…Sir,” Oliver said, returning the man’s words with equal fervour. “Thank you.”
Duret nodded, then glanced at his daughter, a sigh escaping his lips. “There is something I must tell you, ma chérie,” he said, the hand resting on her shoulder squeezing gently in comfort.
Violet looked up and met her father’s eyes, the muscles in her jaw tightening. “Silcox is dead, isn’t he?”
Duret nodded. “I’m sorry. He did not deserve you, but I never would have denied you the opportunity to get to know him. I know that you’ve always wondered about your life before.”
Violet nodded, her other hand reaching for her father’s. “Don’t be. I know all that I need to know. Yes, I was curious, but I am no longer. I know who I am and what I want…thanks to you and Mother. You’ve given me the greatest gift, and I shall always be grateful.”
“Non, chérie, it is I who is grateful,” he whispered to her, his dark eyes gentle as he spoke. “You made me a father, and until that day I never knew that it was precisely what was missing from my life.” Then he glanced at Oliver. “Now, you need to ask yourself what is missing from yours.”
Violet swallowed, her gaze drifting back to Oliver, and he could see the pulse in her neck beating rapidly. Duret squeezed her shoulder once more, then rose and looked down at Oliver. “Today, you looked out for each other, protected each other, risked your own life for the other,” he said, a distant memory reflected in his dark eyes. “Now, you need to decide what tomorrow will bring.” Holding his daughter’s gaze for a moment, Duret then stepped away and spoke to a man Oliver presumed was Pierre, the ship’s surgeon.
Ignoring the world around them, Oliver turned back to Violet, the pain in his arm only a mild echo as his mind contemplated what to say. “You shot your…father,” he finally uttered when realisation dawned. Although he had wondered where the second shot had come from, the moment Violet had dropped down beside him the thought had fled his mind. “You shot him.”
“Of course, I did,” Violet replied, a touch of incredulity in her eyes. “He was about to kill you. I couldn’t let that happen. I can’t believe you didn’t know that. Did you think–?”
Oliver shook his head to stop her. “No, I did not mean to imply…All I meant to say was…” He closed his eyes, once more trying to sort through the chaos in his head. “No one has ever…chosen me the way you did today.” The frown on her face disappeared, and a gentle sadness came to her blue eyes. “And to see your f–” He stopped, shaking his head. “No, to see Silcox threaten you today and your father risk himself to protect you, that was…life-altering. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never experienced anything like it. But I want to. I want to be part of a family who protects each other. I want to love unconditionally. I want to trust and be trusted. I want all of that…with you.”
Violet nodded, her eyes brimming with tears once more. Still, there was a hint of hesitation, of doubt in her gaze as though she feared what he was about to say as much as she longed for it.
“Marry me,” Oliver said simply, revelling in the way her face lit up. “I finally know what I want, and I refuse to be afraid to go and get it any longer. This is my life, and I want it to be ours from this day forward. Marry me.”
Violet drew in a shuddering breath, and although Oliver could see utter temptation in her eyes, something held her back. Still, he could not fault her for it, nor would he allow her hesitation to dishearten him. Oliver was not certain of much these days, but he was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that he belonged by her side.
“I know that you don’t belong on land,” he whispered when he saw her mouth open and close, her mind unable to conjure the words she needed. “I know that London is not the place for you, and I would never want to see you unhappy. And so, I will not ask you to stay with me.”
Violet’s gaze widened. “You will not? But you just-?”
“I know,” Oliver interrupted, a teasing smile curving his lips that had her eyes narrow in suspicion. “I still wish to marry you. However, I suggest we make our home not in England…or France, for that matter…but out at sea.” Staring at him, Violet swallowed, hope coming to her blue gaze. “As soon as possible, I will ask for a letter of marque,” he stated, feeling excitement run through his veins, “and have a ship outfitted. Then I will need to choose a captain. Someone capable. Someone who knows how to sail and be a commandeer. Someone trustworthy.” He grinned at her. “Would you be interested?”
“Are you serious?” Violet stared at him before doubt claimed her once more. “You’re only doing this for me. But you can’t. You shouldn’t. You need to find out what you–”
“But this is what I want,” Oliver interrupted, using his good arm to push himself up into a sitting position. “I cannot say if it is what I want to do for the rest of my life, but right now it’s what I want. Always have I dreamed of seeing the world. Always have I wanted to break out of this life. Believe me, I’m not only doing this for you, but for myself as well as for us.” Squeezing her hand, he smiled at her. “Besides, my place is by your side, and yours is out at sea. I’d be a fool not to follow you.”
A soft smile came to her face. “You’d come with me?”
“Why not?” Oliver said laughing. “Women follow their husbands all the time, why not do it the other way around?”
Joining in his laughter, Violet threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. “Then I will be your captain,” she said pulling back and meeting his gaze. Her own shone like two stars in the night sky before she leaned forward and kissed him.
“And my wife?” Oliver asked when he was able to breathe again. Searching her gaze, he waited, holding his breath once more.
Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she looked almost bashful if it were not for the wicked gleam in her eyes. “I’ll be your wife,” she said, accentuating each word carefully, “if you’ll be my husband.”
“Always.” Pulling her back against him, his good arm wrapped around her back, Oliver kissed her, all bu
t oblivious to the myriad of people in the room. And despite the pain in his arm, he could not remember ever having felt this happy.
Chapter Thirty-Seven – A Family Comes Full Circle
Allowing Pierre to tend to Oliver, Violette stepped out of the room, finally becoming aware that despite the still darkened sky, the whole house was awake. Apparently, it had been the two shots that had drawn the servants from their beds and into the arms of the waiting Frenchmen, who had rounded them up and were currently holding them in one of the drawing rooms.
Still, it was merely a temporary solution, and Violette realised that her father would have to leave soon. After all, once the French attack on an English estate−in which an English lord had been killed!−became known, she wanted her father as far away from English soil as possible. As much as she hated saying goodbye to him, Violette could not be selfish. After all, it would only be a temporary farewell. She had to hold on to that. She would see him again.
Still, saying goodbye almost broke her heart.
“Oliver asked for my hand,” Violet told her father after drawing him aside and out of earshot of his crew.
Her father nodded, his hands reaching for hers. “I heard,” he whispered, a touch of sadness in his dark eyes. “I will certainly miss having you aboard, ma chérie, but I’ve always known you’d make your own way. It is the way of the world.” He inhaled a slow breath. “And you could not have chosen a finer man. I have no doubt he will do right by you.”
Joy flooded Violette’s heart, and she realised that although she did not need her father’s permission to choose the life she wanted, she did need his blessing to find happiness on the path she had chosen. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks.
After brushing a lock from her forehead, her father pulled her into his arms and held her as he had held her a million times before since she had been a little girl. Always had his embrace been the one place in the world where she had felt the safest, and it was good to know that some things never changed.
“Allow me to marry you,” her father whispered into her hair. Then he stepped back, and his gaze met hers. “Aboard the Chevalier Noir.”
Smiling, Violette nodded, knowing that there was no better place to begin her new life.
“Capt’n, there’s a carriage approaching,” Jacques called from down the hall, cutting short their familial moment.
Following her father to the window, Violette peered down at the shadowy outline of the carriage as it drew to a halt in front of the entrance. It was only moments before dawn, and night had yet to yield to day. “I can’t make out the emblem.”
Muttering a curse, her father rushed downstairs, calling a warning to his crew. As he approached the front door, Violette was by his side. “Let me,” she told him, her eyes urging him to trust her.
Gritting his teeth, her father nodded.
Violette inhaled a deep breath and then carefully opened the door just as the first rays of the new day climbed over the horizon, setting the world aglow. The moment her gaze fell on the two women exiting the carriage, Violette almost sagged with relief. “Lady Silcox, Lady Juliet,” she exclaimed in greeting before placing a calming hand on her father’s arm.
Then she hurried down the steps.
At the sight of her, Lady Silcox exhaled a deep breath, and her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my dear child, I’m so relieved to see you well. I was so worried.”
Touched by her stepmother’s concern, Violette embraced her warmly. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Lady Silcox swallowed, her gaze darting to the house. “My husband?” she whispered as though afraid he might hear her.
Violette inhaled a deep breath. “I’m afraid he’s dead.” Lady Silcox’s eyes widened, and Juliet gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth. “I had no choice. He threatened my husband.”
Lady Silcox nodded. “It’s quite all right,” she replied, her cheeks rather pale as her hands tightened their hold on Violette’s arms. Then her eyes widened. “My son?”
“He’s all right,” Violette rushed to assure her. “He’s with my cousin,” she said, a reassuring smile on her face, “listening to adventure stories at sea.”
For a moment, Lady Silcox closed her eyes, trying her best to gather her wits. “I fear I must sit down,” she mumbled, then proceeded toward the house. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
“Thank you,” Violette said, then added, “Don’t worry about the…visitors in your home. They will not stay long. Jake and Henri are in the kitchen.”
“Jake?” Lady Silcox said, turning back to look at Violette. Then a soft smile came to her lips. “What a wonderful name.” Then she headed inside in search of her son.
Turning to look at Juliet, Violette found that her sister’s face bore an unusual flush, and her eyes were cast down in humiliation. “Are you all right?”
Juliet shuffled her feet before lifting her gaze off the ground. “I need to apologise. I never meant for you to be harmed.”
Violette nodded. “Did you know about his intentions when you lured me out of the house?”
Her sister’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously. “No! You must believe me! No!”
“Then why?”
“He knew,” Juliet whispered. “He simply knew. You must believe that I did not tell him. From what he said, I believe he was told by a friend…although I cannot say who it was.”
A friend? Violette wondered, and her mind carried her back to the night at Lord Grafton’s ball and the crazed gleam in the marquess’s eyes. Had he recognised her after all? Had he informed his friend of his daughter’s return to free his son from a most disadvantageous marriage? As a widower, Oliver would have been free to wed again.
“I believe you,” Violette said, and the relief that washed over Juliet’s features was palpable. “However, that does not explain why you asked to see me? Why you helped him?”
“He said he wanted to speak to you,” Juliet replied, guilt in her green eyes. “I know I ought not to have believed him, but he seemed so sincere. He said he had heard that his daughter was still alive, and he had to see for himself.”
“Then why did he not simply call on me?”
“He said since you had not come to see him, he suspected that your new husband had forbidden you. He feared he would be sent away and denied seeing you.”
Shaking her head, Violette mumbled a curse under her breath at her father’s duplicity. Then she inhaled a deep breath and willed herself to forget the atrocities committed by that man. After all, there was no use dwelling on the past, especially when the future looked so promising.
“You still owe me an answer,” Violette said, meeting her sister’s gaze with a smile on her face.
“An answer?”
“I came to England,” Violette reminded her, “for the sole reason of seeing you freed from your betrothal.” She glanced behind her at the house. “Your stepfather is dead and can no longer force your hand. Also, I took it upon myself–with the help of my husband–to gather allies, who have promised to stand by you and offered their help in obtaining Lord Dowling’s acceptance of your decision…should you choose to make it. Ultimately, however, it is your decision, and no one else can make it for you.”
Clearly having all but forgotten about Violette’s offer, Juliet stared at her with shock evident in her eyes. Quite obviously, she was not a woman accustomed to making her own choices or having her opinion asked when it came to determine the course of her life. Her mouth opened and closed as indecision warred within her. Still, there was a shimmer of temptation in her green eyes as her desires fought to be heard.
Then Juliet’s gaze wavered from her sister’s and locked on something or someone behind Violette’s shoulder. Instantly, the spark of temptation surged into a blazing fire, and without turning to look, Violette knew with perfect clarity who had inspired Juliet thus.
“Your father bid me to tell you,” Henri said as he walked down the steps a
nd came to stand beside Violette, “that your husband will be fine. Also, we are to leave with the tide, which means we need to hurry.” His eyes held hers with such intensity as though he feared to say too much with Juliet overhearing. The muscles in his jaw were tense, and he did not even glance at the woman who looked at him with ill-concealed longing. Then he simply turned on his heel and walked back into the house.
For a moment, Juliet seemed to sink into a puddle of misery before Violette saw her eyes spark with sudden decision. Drawing back her shoulders, she lifted her chin and met Violette’s gaze with a determined one of her own. “Yes,” she whispered, then added more volume to her voice. “My answer is yes. I want to call off my betrothal.”
“Good.” Nodding her head in approval, Violette grasped her sister’s hands. “I’m proud of you, Juliet. I know this is not easy, but I assure you it’ll be worth it. Nothing is more important than having the freedom to choose.”
A hint of a daring smile came to her sister’s face as she nodded her head vigorously, tears misting her eyes. “I know,” she replied, her voice choked as her hands tightened on Violette’s. “Thank you for coming. No one has ever done anything like that for me.” She swallowed. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”
Violette blinked back her own tears. “As have I,” she replied with equal fervour. “And a part of me wishes I could stay and get to know you better.” Then her gaze drifted to the cliffs beyond which the sea lay waiting. “But my place is out there. It’s where I belong.”
Juliet nodded. “I understand. Will you write to me?”
“Of course,” Violette assured her. “I might not be here, but I’ll never be gone. You write to me as I will write to you, and if you ever need me, I promise I will come.” Pulling her sister into her arms, Violette hugged her tightly. “It’s what family does.”
“Family,” Juliet whispered. “Yes, we’re family.”