What she didn’t realize while her mind contemplated what was happening to her, Fitzgibbons knelt and tipped her chin up with his fingers. She shut her eyes but knew she had to open them and when she did, she saw a sad smile on his lips as his fingers wiped away a tear. Her blurred vision, her eyes brimming with tears, made her angry, for she couldn’t understand why they came now.
“Och, dear girl,” he spoke softly, a gentle smile on the pirate’s lips. “He’s discovered the clue he’s been aching fer, if’n you’ll pardon me,” he nodded.
Outside desire for her, his only other need was vengeance for his wife’s death. “For his vengeance?”
“Aye.” He smiled. “Thinkin’ if’n he’s correct, than all shall be good. And you, a place fer home.”
She frowned. “I will not leave his side.”
“Aye, lassie. He knows.” But the tone of his voice made her heart fall into her stomach.
She had refused to return to England and into the hands of whoever abused her. Whoever the villain was, he had taken her memory and replaced it with fear and dread. No, she’d refuse again. She wanted to scream as the pain returned to her head.
“He’ll not let you hang, like us, if caught.”
She rubbed her arm. “I’ve heard that mentioned a time or two.” She shrugged and tried to smile. But Fitzgibbons’ expression was cold.
“You,” he started sternly. “The capt’n is right. Yer too much a lady ta stay wit a group like us.”
A lump formed in her throat. She blinked and tried to swallow it but it wouldn’t clear.
“Rest, lady.” Fitzgibbons touched her arm, grabbing her attention back and with a nod, he walked away.
Elle stood on the deck, alone. Feeling for the first time since arriving that she was just dismissed. She didn’t like it, not one bit. Her toes curled on the deck as thoughts raced through her mind. So they’d keep her from turning pirate, to keep her from hanging… Trent had issued those very words to her. She bit her bottom lip, irritated, surprised, and annoyed.
Rolling over Fitzgibbons words, she wandered the deck. Stemming the tide that threatened to spill from her eyes kept her occupied. She came to a screeching halt as she ran into a wall — a wall made of flesh and muscle.
With a gasp, she stumbled back but the wall became man who grasped her arms to steady her. Her eyes widened for the one that held her so tight was none other than the nob.
What was his name?
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Twenty-Two
He was beyond aggravated. It was really a combination of hunger, decent sleep, a bath, fresh clothes, and, oh yes, freedom that really got him going. Three days in that cell. Three. With only minimal amount of time to stretch and inhale sweet air on the deck, a luxury that only he could persuade the pirates they were good for. Especially if they expected money in return for their lives, for James doubted they’d be worth a damn if they were emaciated and on the verge of death, sitting in their own filth…a truly disgusting thought, but it was there.
The bright sun reflecting off the ocean made him squint his eyes as he straightened, stretching. Clearwater and Lydia hovered together off to the side. His patience was about through and they didn’t help the matter at all. The past three nights had Lydia halfway sobbing in her sleep, the rest of the time in a foul mood, constantly complaining and telling James she was ruined. Clearwater held better decorum but that was mostly because he didn’t weep.
James was bitter also and as time past, he turned inward, as if he sat in a school house, expecting the instructor to beat him. One thing James had noticed was the fact the pirates did not carry any weapon, except for the man who occasionally watched over them in the hold. What he did catch was the men who gazed upon Lydia, leaving no doubt of their desires. So now he had her to protect as well.
Inhaling the ocean breeze, he ran his fingers through his hair, wanting to meet this pirate captain. Eleanor was his wife and by all rights of the British Empire, he would get her back. If she wanted to come back. He squashed that idea. She was his and even Lydia knew that.
He closed his eyes and let the roll of the salt water surrounding them drown out the other noise, mostly in his head. The sun beat down on him, giving him strength he didn’t know he missed. The time had come to discuss the issue with this pirate—Eleanor was his. Period. Not a plaything for that thief. The mere thought of that man touching her brought his anger out in full force. One emotion he needed to curtail if he was to be rational enough to win.
Suddenly, someone bumped into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He silently cursed as he grabbed hold of the person’s arms, just to keep himself from falling. He shouldn’t close his eyes, knew better actually but exhaustion threatened and he was short-tempered anyway over Eleanor and his compatriots with their constant conniving and complaining.
James did a double take—Eleanor. He was afraid to blink, that she might disappear. In the days he’d been imprisoned here, he’d only seen her the once, with a glimpse periodically, like a ghost for she disappeared that fast. Considering the space on the ship was small, too small to keep them apart, he was thrilled.
She stared at him, open-eyed and wary. One full minute passed in silence before she hissed. “Let me go. You are hurting me.”
Surprised by her words and tone, he instantly released her. “Pardon, my lady. I did not mean to stand in your path.” He realized his tone was harsh but he was at a loss so more formal was better.
She pulled herself up, as if steeling against him as a man. Her jaw tightened. “I beg apologies. I did not look to where I was headed.”
He blinked. “No apologies needed. I stood here, dreaming a dream of what can never be.” A dream of her, back in his arms…
A flicker in her eyes caught him off guard. This woman was his wife, the love of his life. But something wasn’t the same, outside of her unusual garb, definitely not attire for Almack’s or any other ton gatherings. She peered at him now, as if they’d never met.
“Do I know you, my lord?”
The innocent question sliced through him like a rapier—very fine, very sharp and the pain cut him in two. Her inquisitive look never wavered and it, her question and the current circumstances made him wonder.
“Let me introduce myself, my lady, and please excuse the lack of manners.” Hell, proper etiquette demanded someone who knew them both do the introductions but the reality was, he did know his wife. “Lord James Haddington III, Earl of Windhaven, at your service.” He bowed.
Her face lit up with a grand smile and a sparkle in those sparkling blue eyes. A giggle escaped her lips as she tried to school her outlandish response. “An Earl, you do say? How splendid! I knew you were a nabob, but that sounds like a high-ranking title to me!”
That was not the response he had hoped for. “And if I may ask my lady of her proper title, so I may address her correctly.”
She frowned. Once more, not what he expected. Slowly, a smile etched across her sun-kissed face. “I’m Elle,” she snorted. “Lady of the Equuleus. Nice to make your acquaintance.” She extended her hand.
He returned her jovial grin as he took the proffered hand and placed his lips to the backside. “The pleasure is mine. Tell me, how does a fine lady, such as yourself, come to mix with such a perilous lot like the brethren here?”
“I’m afraid I just fell in, one might say.” Her jovial expression dissipated, replaced by a straight face, like a child that spoke the truth but quickly hid that fact by changing moods. “But the fit is good, so I am one with them.”
“Hmmm,” he muttered, battling the inner demon that wanted to shake common sense into her, as well as re-stake his claim to her. “’Tis a dangerous life, one with a noose at the end. Would be a tragic end to such a beautiful lady, one whose beauty would have the world beckon at her feet.”
Her cheeks reddened as the smile returned but her gaze dropped. “You flatter.”
He took her hand. “I speak the truth. Just say the word and watch even t
he lowliest of sailors bend to your command.”
She glanced away, a troubled look on her face, as if she was confused. Absently, she pressed two fingers against her temple, a strained look in place.
“Are you well, my lady?”
“Of course. ’Tis the sun. Noontime is the hottest part of the day. Perhaps you should have stayed below.”
He gave her hurt look. “And miss the beauty before me? The chance to pass words without hope? Never.”
That made her laugh. “Ah, perhaps.” She leaned closer, close enough the very fragrance of her was almost touchable and he so wanted to run his fingers through that. “But the ears on deck are more keen than the few below.”
“A fact well known,” he replied, darting a glance about him. “Yet, the lack of two I know is welcomed.”
“Your friends?”
He nodded.
She turned, finding Clearwater talking to Lydia near the overhang of the deck. They stood close to the shadows which shrouded them from close scrutiny. Made James wonder what they were discussing while tucked away. It didn’t matter. He gave Eleanor his full attention.
Eleanor tilted her head. “She’s pretty. He appears full of himself.”
James openly laughed. “My lady, I believe you may know them after all.” When she smiled at him, his stomach clenched. Her beauty still knocked him over, driving his desire and devotion. Even dressed as a pirate, dancing on a pirate’s ship…and a jig around a hangman’s noose. His drive to save her hardened.
She frowned, her mouth twisted as if she chewed on a thought like an edible object and it didn’t taste right. “I don’t believe so, nor you…” Her voice faded and he noticed the slight tremble in her. She knew Clearwater and he’d bet she had run into Lydia over the years. The ton was a tight group, always knowing and watchful of those who entered its midst.
He wanted to lighten her desperate look but was at a loss on how, standing on the enemy’s deck, under scrutiny by the pirates but his own people, too. So he did the only thing he could muster so fast—a warm smile and a wink. That move had caught her attention a year ago, at the Swathington’s ball…
She must have remembered it for she laughed, the worried look vanished. “Apologies. So much is clouding my thoughts. Please pardon me.” And with that, she slipped out of his grasp and around the capstan, ducking out of sight.
“Damn!”
“My lord.”
Startled, he glanced to the left and found a youth, his voice crackling.
“Capt’n Cav’ndish be seein’ ya now.” The barefoot boy turned to lead the way.
Lack of manners or not, James would follow and learn more about his wife and the man who seemed to possess her.
* * *
Trent stood on the upper deck, feet firmly planted behind the table that held maps, journals, telescope, sextant and a sword. He faced the ocean, surveying the waterway and land in the distance that very slowly grew closer. But his recent focus was the scene below him, of Elle and that captive nobleman. He wanted nothing more for her than to rediscover who she truly was, and he believed that she held a status with the ton.
He snorted. He was well aware of what the ton was. At one point in his life, he had been a vital part of that group…what was once a lifetime ago, when he was young and in love. Memories crashed in and sent a flutter to his stomach, one that he instantly fought to contain and smother. Those days were history, a world centered around money and titles and Rachel. If he could reverse the sun and moon to return there, he’d do so much different.
The clip of boots on the deck below, followed by the snaffle of leather on the stairs returned him to now and the nob from below. The one who had been way too close to Elle. His hands clenched as the roll of anger flowed through him now. She was his, not some worthless nobleman…though, and inner voice whispered, maybe he was the one. His fingers snapped the writing instrument in half, right as the man’s head raised above the decking.
“Lord Windhaven, welcome.” Though he halfway didn’t mean it. What did irritated him was he’d bet his ship that the man knew something, was something, to Elle…
The man stood like a man used to being in charge and that this situation was insulting. Trent agreed but didn’t care. It was a means to an end.
“Are you finished with us? Release us to the island?”
Trent leaned back, eyeing the man carefully. He was furious but somehow Trent would bet it was on more than being held prisoner. “Close. All this affair on exchanges does take more time than desired.” He sighed, more for dramatic effect than necessity and stared at the man closely. “To another matter, your fellow travelers, what names do they hail to?”
The man’s mouth tightened. “Lord Clearwater and Lady St. Martin.”
Trent’s brows climbed as a thrill raced through him. “Viscount Clearwater?” The name clicked in his head and the source hit with a force when his eyes focused on the bound manifests that were on the table. He frowned. “Tell me what you heard of Clearwater Shipping.”
One of Windhaven’s eyebrow inched up. “It is not something I delve into—trade, that is, not to specifics.”
Trent chuckled. “Not worth your time?”
“Not something I have much interest in, outside a few investments.” He stood silent for a moment before he added, “As to this company, ’tis their ship we sailed on, as you are well aware.”
“And Lord Clearwater’s interest?”
“Going into legitimate trade now?” Windhaven bantered.
Trent didn’t answer. Both men watched the other, as if challenging the other to break. Trent admitted to himself he wanted more out the man but nothing came. In fact, the nobleman stared over the ocean, silence filling the air. If nothing else, that intrigued Trent further. What did a lord care over business of trade? He was sure the young titled lord below cared for little more than the next soiree, drink, and loose woman. So why did this one falter?
“I have interest in that company, yes,” Trent answered. “Especially its eastern trade.”
He paused, noticing the man didn’t move. But memories of him talking to Elle returned to his mind. Windhaven was polite but also something more. Did he know her? And did Trent truly want to know, only to feel the need to release her with them, so she could return to her life? He waggled his lips as he tossed and turned the idea.
“Have you ever been in love, sir?” he queried. Images of Rachel mixed with Elle tugged at his thoughts.
Windhaven turned, a guarded look on his face. “What has that have to do with our release? Or trade?”
“More than one may think.”
The nobleman was quiet for a moment. “I am.”
Trent bit back a smile, because he didn’t doubt it, but who? If it was Elle, wouldn’t he proclaim so?
“And where is this English flower?” he asked, curiously.
The nobleman glanced away before he answered. “That is not your concern,” he snapped.
So, she wasn’t involved closely with him. Pity, for the man could truly take good care of her… Another voice, deep inside Trent, argued he could as too, when all was said and done. No, Rachel’s revenge was so close, he could taste it.
“True, to be with you now would be dangerous. Placed on a pirate’s boat, involved in intrigue is too harsh for ladies.”
Windhaven snorted. “Lady Windhaven is a strong, resourceful woman.” He halfway smiled, as if lost in memories. “She’s beautiful, graceful, and of good mind, handling everything with ease.”
“Yes, but she’s still a member of the fairer sex,” Trent murmured, his own thoughts on Elle. “They sometimes put themselves in situations that are less desirable and require a man to save them from.”
“True.” The word was flat, but with a flair of iron to it. It made Trent raise his brows in question. The tone intrigued and irritated him.
“Do you have some issue, my lord, that we need to address?” Once the question left his lips, Trent wondered what pushed him to ask. A qu
ick glance beyond showed him the coastline was changing as Equuleus past the outskirts of British control, though not beyond their reach, and past Port Charles, en route to the Clearwater port. His goal moved closer. He bit back his smile.
* * *
James steamed. This pompous ass spewed about love and trade while the men around him cursed like pirates and readied guns for a fight, here, in Jamaica. Frankly, James didn’t give a damn about any of this. All he wanted was his wife back and for them to be free. But he schooled his anger and waiting for the opening Cavendish just presented.
“Yes, I have requests. You spouted of love and all that entangles, including the fragile nature the fairer sex possessed, yet you keep a lady here. From her appearance, it could be easy to confuse her as your courtesan or a whore.” He gritted his teeth on this statement, for he’d seen Eleanor and while he realized something was wrong, everything seemed right. The mere thought that this vermin touching her made his blood boil.
The pirate’s jaw tightened, anger evident in his eyes. “Yes, of course that is how you would view the situation.”
“Why is she here? And how dare you push her to participate in your illegal pursuits!”
Cavendish said nothing but never broke his locked gaze with him. If it weren’t for the pirates aboard, James would attack the pirate captain here and now.
Instead, Cavendish leaned back with a look of total control. “She joined us of her own accord. There is no forcing that woman. Whatever her past is, I do not know nor do I care. Your other accusation is unfounded and ruins her reputation when you have no means to do so, nor will I allow it.”
James clenched his fists. “I have every right. That lady is Lady Windhaven, my wife!”
A look of surprise flashed across his face. “That’s a rather wild accusation, considering.”
“Hardly. She was attacked two months ago, help captive for money but broke free. Whereabouts unknown, till now.” He leaned forward, fists on tabletop. “And now, you’ve placed her in a place of dangerous position—she’ll hang, as a pirate, because of you,” he seethed.
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 18