Captured for the Captain's Pleasure

by Ann Lethbridge

  The suspicion that her husband had no intention of paying her a visit rose up to choke her. She swallowed her rage and disappointment and put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, here’s a pretty sight. And you told me you were going to sea.’

  Michael’s expression of ludicrous shock and horror was almost worth the pain in her chest.

  ‘Alice?’ He leaped to his feet.

  An ashen-faced Jaimie lifted his head. His eyes darted to Michael. ‘Bloody hell.’

  Alice shot him a look designed to freeze. She turned her attention to Michael. ‘What are you doing here, Michael? And why is your henchman stealing my letters? More to the point, where are my father and my brother?’ Her voice rose with each question, because all she could see on his face was guilt.

  ‘Why are you soaked through?’ he asked.

  ‘It was raining. Don’t change the subject.’

  Jaimie stared at her. ‘Don’t tell me you walked here, Lady Hawkhurst?’

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘You and I need a private discussion,’ Michael said grimly.

  ‘Take her to the guest room in the east wing,’ Jaimie said. ‘You’ll find some of Cynthia’s clothes there.’

  Michael cast his cousin a pained look and took her arm.

  As they drew away, Jaimie called out ‘Michael. Please. I’m so sorry.’

  While Michael’s touch was gentle, it was clear he would brook no argument about going upstairs. ‘What was Simpson thinking?’ he asked as soon as they were out of earshot of his cousin.

  Her anger was the only thing keeping her upright. She clung to its support since she had no intention of collapsing in a heap of tears. ‘Forget Simpson. You owe me an explanation.’

  ‘We’ll talk upstairs.’ His voice sounded strange, as if he laboured under some strong emotion and was trying to keep it hidden. But what?

  ‘You need to get out of those wet clothes, first,’ he said. ‘Up you go, unless you want me to carry you.’

  Her stomach gave a little jolt. Anger, not desire. It had to be anger. She wouldn’t tolerate anything else. ‘I prefer my own feet.’ Aware of the damp squelching in her shoes, she mounted the stairs with her back rigid and her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

  ‘This way,’ he said at the top, reaching out to guide her. She shrugged him off. With a sigh he preceded her down the corridor and flung open a door at the far end of the corridor.

  She passed by him, aware of his height, his heat. She inhaled a quick breath, sandalwood mixed with sweet smoke and cigars. He must have been here quite some time.

  She swung around and lifted her chin, taking note of his frown and his worried gaze. He wrenched open the clothes press and pulled out a towel. ‘Here. Use this.’

  She glared at him. ‘I want to know what is going on. I’ve had no word from you and then I find you here!’

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. ‘There has been a mistake. A misunderstanding.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Perhaps we can talk about this in the morning, when my head is better.’

  ‘What mistake, Michael?’

  An odd expression passed across his face, as if he were being tortured. ‘I was coming to see you.’ He turned away, striding to the window to look out into the evening sky, his profile a beautiful mask.

  He must think her such a weak fool. ‘Where is my father?’

  He remained silent, still staring out of the window, clearly gathering his thoughts. Planning his lies. The suspicion writhing in her stomach, the fear stabbing at her heart, finally found a voice. ‘Is it another woman?’ She barely got the words through her clenched jaw.

  ‘You heard from Selina.’

  He sounded so calm. So uninvolved. She wanted to claw his face. Make him feel her pain. ‘I found her letters under your henchman’s mattress.’

  ‘Very enterprising of you, my dear. I hope my henchman wasn’t in it at the time.’

  ‘Damn you, Michael.’

  He cursed vilely and swung around. ‘I didn’t mean that. This has all happened so fast. I don’t know what I am saying. God. I don’t know where to start.’

  She sank down on the bed. ‘The beginning is often the best place.’

  He cracked a miserable laugh and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I suppose there is no way of keeping it from you.’ He sighed. ‘I hoped to undo the damage before it came to your ears.’

  His face was full of resignation. And regret. The dread of what she would learn held her breath captive in her throat. She sat stiffly, ready to spring up and leave if she thought for a moment he was fabricating a tale.

  ‘I wanted justice for my family,’ he said in a low, hoarse voice.

  She stared at him, confused, taken aback.

  ‘I believed your father burned my family to death.’

  The words fell from his mouth like drops of acid. Her ears sizzled, her heart stopped beating. ‘My father would never do such a thing.’ A wave of fear surged through her veins. ‘He wouldn’t.’

  ‘I know.’ He stared at her. ‘Now, I know.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘My memories of that night are faulty at best.’ He passed his hand over his eyes. ‘I needed someone to blame. Something someone said made me think the fire was deliberately set.’

  ‘Something Jaimie said?’ she asked, remembering his cousin’s parting words.

  ‘He was mistaken.’

  ‘Did you ask my father?’

  ‘I broached it. He said something damning and I took it for an admission of guilt.’

  Her mind raced. ‘You knew this when you captured the Conchita. It had nothing to do with you being a privateer.’ Panic tightened her throat. ‘Where is my father? Where is Richard?’

  He held out his hand, palm up. ‘Your brother is all right. He’s with Wishart on the Gryphon.’

  She glared at him. ‘And Father? Did you kill him?’

  ‘God, no!’ He shook his head, but his eyes told another story.

  ‘Where is he?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I did nothing.’

  ‘Liar!’

  ‘A week ago, he lost Fulton’s to me at cards. That is the last time I saw him. Alice, I’m sorry. I’ll find him.’ He touched her shoulder. Just that light touch was like a lightning bolt through her body. She could not let him do that to her. She shrugged him off.

  He pressed his fingers to his temples. ‘Moments before you arrived, Jaimie told me the truth. I was about to go looking for your father. I’m so sorry.’

  He looked sorry. He looked pale and ill. His hand went up to shade his eyes, as if the light pained him.

  ‘Why did Sandford say nothing of this before?’

  He groaned. A terrible sound in the small room, full of self-blame. ‘He was afraid. Afraid of me. Afraid of what I would do.’

  Slowly another thought filtered through her pain. ‘You married me to get to my father.’ The realisation was a stab to her heart. It wept the blood of betrayal.

  ‘No!’ He grimaced. ‘At least, perhaps at first. I wanted information. I wanted justice. I wanted to see him hanged. Don’t you see? He had to be punished. But I couldn’t do it, because of you. I decided he would know the hell of never seeing his family again. It was only fair.’

  ‘But he didn’t do it,’ she said coldly. ‘He is innocent. Have you no idea where he is?’

  ‘I last saw him at White’s.’

  This cave she found herself in was a cold, echoing, empty place. ‘You married me for revenge.’

  He stared at her, his face beautiful and hard and full of shadows. ‘Yes.’ He reached out. ‘Only at first. Not—’

  ‘How can I believe you?’ she cried out as her heart collapsed in on itself. ‘You’ve done nothing but lie.’

  ‘Alice, please.’ He covered his eyes. ‘Can we talk about this in the morning? I can’t do it now.’

  ‘What is it, Michael?’ she
said, her voice rising in pitch, disgust dripping from her tongue. ‘Is your conscience giving you a headache? Go, then. But I never want to see your face again.’

  He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed, lines of pain around his mouth. ‘Please, Alice. You are not thinking clearly. Get dry. We’ll talk in the morning when we are both more rational. I will find your father. You’ll see.’ He stepped outside and closed the door behind him. The key turned in the lock.

  She flew across the room and pulled on the handle. Futile. Damn him. He expected her to sit here and wait for him like an unwanted parcel, while her father was God knew where?

  What a fool she’d been. He’d gulled her every step of the way with his charming lies. Tears spilled over as misery enveloped her soul.

  She let them flow unchecked.

  Slowly, a blanket of cold settled over her. Accept it, Alice. Their marriage meant nothing.

  She was no more to him than a means to an end.

  And if she let herself feel, it would hurt past bearing.

  She dried her tears on her handkerchief and marched to the casement window. Directly below her chamber lay a square courtyard. A series of slate roofs angled downwards below her window like an uneven staircase of wide, sloped steps, slick with rain, the last of them at least six feet from the ground.

  A sickening height from which to fall. Well, she’d managed the rope ladder off the Gryphon. She would manage this. First, dry clothes. And after?

  No doubt, there were horses in the stable.

  ‘Gone?’ A pale Jaimie looked up from his pile of cushions. He looked worse than usual; the shadows around his eyes were purple bruises, his skin tinged grey.

  ‘Out of the bloody window.’ Michael ground his teeth until they threatened to crack in order to hold back his desire to smash everything in sight. ‘According to your groom, she took a horse.’

  Trust Alice to see her chance the moment he was laid low. He should have known she’d take matters into her own small hands. Michael cursed vilely and struck out at the wooden pole supporting the canopy. The structure wobbled. He grabbed the pole and steadied it.

  He huffed out a breath. ‘A woman alone, riding around the countryside in the middle of the night? Anything could happen. I have to go after her.’ The little fool. He should have tied her to the bed.

  The thought sent a jolt of lust to his groin.

  God. These past weeks without her had been hell. He’d missed her. Up there in the bedroom he’d wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her silent, worship her with his body, bend her to his will. Make her forgive him.

  Knowing Alice, she would, too. Kind-hearted to a fault, generous, she’d take pity on him. She might, given enough time, learn to love him again. Longing kicked him in the chest with the force of an iron-shod hoof.

  He curled his lip.

  His parents had loved him and, but for him, they would still be alive. He didn’t want love. It brought too much responsibility, too much pain.

  Like the pain gnawing a hole in his chest.

  He only wanted to reunite the Fultons, as they deserved. Let them be a family again.

  Jaimie observed him from beneath his lashes, his face full of regret. ‘Where would she go?’

  ‘London. To her friend, no doubt. She’ll be looking for her father. I’m going to try to catch her before she reaches town.’ At least he hadn’t sent her on a wild chase to Portsmouth. He had no idea if Fulton had followed his suggestion, but he would do everything in his power to find the man and return him safely to his daughter.

  ‘You will come back?’ Jaimie whispered. ‘I will see you again?’

  He bent and squeezed the bony shoulder. ‘I will.’ Once he was sure Alice was safe. ‘Will you do something for me?’ He looked at the pipe clutched in Jaimie’s fist. ‘Give it up.’

  A wry smile twisted Jaimie’s lips. ‘I wish it was that easy.’

  ‘Nothing is easy, Jaimie.’ What he had to do now would be the hardest thing of his life. He would put things right and let Alice go before he did her any more damage.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A week had passed since Alice had left Sandford House and landed on Selina’s doorstep. Yesterday she’d received a cheerful note from her father. He’d sent it to Selina hoping she would know Alice’s whereabouts. He was in Portsmouth staying with a friend. His note said he’d been ill, but was making steady progress and in a few days he’d be ready for a visit. He’d failed to provide his precise direction, which was why Alice was not on her way to the coast.

  Father’s note had been followed by a terse missive from Michael requesting an interview. So she sat perched on a sofa in Selina’s drawing room with her friend beside her for moral support. Waiting. Feeling hollow and sick. ‘I should have refused to see him.’

  ‘You can’t,’ Selina said. ‘He’s your husband. If he made a fuss, Father would insist. And besides, he has your father’s address.’

  ‘He could have put it in his note.’

  Selina patted her hand. Selina. She’d been so kind. So understanding. ‘I expect he wants to talk to you,’ she said gently.

  Alice bit the inside of her cheek. All morning long she’d vacillated from wanting to see him and wanting to flee. She’d said harsh things when they last met. Things he deserved, but knowing she was right wasn’t making her happy. Indeed, she’d never felt so miserable in her life.

  Her heart pounded uncomfortably against her ribs. ‘He’s late. He’s not coming.’ She started to rise.

  Selina gripped her fingers. ‘It is not yet four o’clock.’

  The case clock in the hall gave her the lie. A knock sounded on the door. It swung back.

  ‘Lord Hawkhurst to see you, my lady,’ the butler said.

  She observed him as if from a great distance.

  At Jaimie’s house, she’d put his pallor down to his new style of living, his weeks in London after years at sea. Now, he invaded the cheerful room like an impenetrable shadow. He looked positively gaunt.

  He bowed. ‘Lady Selina. Alice.’ His deep voice vibrated a chord low in her belly. Sensual longings she could no more resist than she could resist taking a breath rippled through her veins. Desire. How she hated what his allure did to her.

  She and Selina rose, curtsied and sat down side by side on the sofa in perfect synchronicity. Farcical amid the dark currents disturbing the air.

  ‘Tea will be here in a moment, Lord Hawkhurst,’ Selina said. ‘Please, won’t you sit down?’

  He chose a chair as far away from them as possible, his body tense, his expression a mask of politeness.

  ‘I wonder if we could discuss what I have to say in private?’ He looked at Selina, who shot to her feet with an apologetic smile.

  ‘I’ll just go and see what is keeping the tea.’ She skittered out of the room, careful not to catch Alice’s eye.

  The wretch. But it was probably for the best. This way she could unburden her mind.

  Anxious to be rid of him and the flutters in her stomach, Alice plunged in. ‘You have arrangements to discuss, you said, and an address to provide.’ How remote her voice sounded. How still she was inside. How cold.

  ‘Don’t worry, Alice, I’m not here for any nefarious purpose,’ he said.

  Nefarious wasn’t her greatest terror. She feared the way her heart leaped towards him every time her glance fell on his stark, beautiful face. Feared the ache in her chest and the longing of her wanton body.

  ‘Here is the address.’ He rose and handed her a small square of paper.

  Somehow their hands touched. The spark she dreaded travelled up her arm, tingling and seductive. She felt ashamed of her reaction in the face of his calm.

  He nodded at the paper. ‘He was a very ill man, Alice. You will find him much improved.’

  She stared at the writing. The Mermaid Inn, Portsmouth. ‘An inn?’ She could only imagine the depths of drink to which he’d sunk, despite Michael’s assurance. ‘I must go at once.’

&nbs
p; He shrugged. ‘I have purchased a town house in Grosvenor Square. You and your father are free to move in there whenever you wish.’ His deep voice sounded lifeless. As if none of this mattered. ‘The deed is in your name, settled on you. As is the deed for Westerly. My man of business will deliver them this afternoon. Have your lawyer look over the documents. I have issued orders that Richard is to return home, though I doubt he will be pleased.’

  ‘He is too young for a life at sea.’

  A wry smile twisted his lips. ‘As you say. The titles to both houses are free and clear. An allowance will be deposited to an account in your name each month. There will be more than enough funds to endow that hospital of yours.’

  His gaze, so steady as it met hers, held neither regret nor guilt. His eyes were blank. Empty mirrors. ‘Our separation will begin immediately.’

  ‘Our separation?’ She was right. He regretted their marriage and without his revenge found no reason to continue the charade. The cold around her heart solidified to ice.

  ‘You are free to do exactly as you please, Alice. You will hear no complaints from me.’

  Permission to take other men to her bed, she presumed. A death blow to her heart.

  Pride held her steady. She inclined her head. ‘You are most generous, sir. Yet still we are tied.’

  He sent her a bleak look. ‘There is nothing I can do to end our marriage that would not cause you harm. You will never have to see me again.’

  Her own words thrown back in her face. ‘Good.’

  An expression flickered across his face—a wince of pain? Unlikely.

  He rose from the chair, looming large in the small room. She shrank back against the cushions.

  His lips twisted wryly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to inflict my person on you.’ He moved to the window, gazed down into the street.

  Clearly he had something to say that made it difficult for him to face her. She stared at the delicately patterned wallpaper wavering in and out of focus and held herself rigid, braced to withstand his next blow.

  He straightened his shoulders, his face a mask of decision. ‘I am going to sea. I don’t expect to return.’