“Come to bed, my sweet, and show me all you’ve learned in your trade. You’ll find me an eager pupil.” More than eager, he thought to himself. He intended to lift her and carry her to the bunk, but Beth surprised him by going stiff in his arms and pushed away from him. He grabbed for her, but she managed to shake her long hair and try for the door, which was locked.
Hawk was unbearably weary of this stupid game now. He’d played along to amuse her and to arouse himself, and aroused he was. He wasn’t about to wait a moment longer to possess her.
“I want you, Beth. Why do you torture me so? Can’t you tell that I’m languishing from desire for you?” For you, only for you, he found himself thinking.
For a moment, he saw her face soften and thought she was about to relent, Instead, she muttered a harsh, “No.”
“Come, Beth, my sweet,” he cajoled. He’d never cajoled any woman into his bed, and he detested himself for doing it now. But he wanted this woman, wanted her willing and ready for him.
He saw the flash of the blade when she raised her hand.
The jeweled dagger shot silver fire his way, and he silently cursed himself for leaving the thing on the tabletop before the confrontation with Nightingale. This turn of events angered him. Who did this doxy think she was? How far was she going to go to fight for her “honor”? he wondered.
“Your role as modest maid has gone too far, sweet. Put down the knife.” He managed to speak calmly.
“Not until you promise to leave me alone.”
Bowing, he moved away from her, telling her that she had nothing to fear from him. He asked for the knife and she refused. God, he even pleaded with the wench, only to have her brandish it at him again. Then he did the only thing he could do. He told her she could keep it.
Watching her face, he discerned suspicion there within those hauntingly beautiful brown eyes. He wondered if she might be a bit mad, but decided that somehow he’d blundered. The young woman before him wasn’t insane, but frightened, truly afraid of him. But why? Certainly she’d been with too many men to count.
Both of them faced each other. He had the advantage of reading her thoughts, but she didn’t. His face was masked and, at that moment, he was glad of it. The wench had nearly made a complete fool of him. To think that he thought all of this was a game, a very deadly game, he reminded himself. The silly woman could have stabbed him to death at any time: in fact, she might be a danger to herself. He had no idea how long they’d have stood staring at each other, she poised to descend the knife if he moved closer,
It was the harsh sound of the knock on the door and Crane’s upraised voice which startled her. Hawk used this moment to lunge forward.
He felt her resistance when he grabbed her arm. “Hand over the blasted thing!” he cried and attempted to wrest the knife from her. He managed to pull down her arm, but her hand refused to break free, and it was at that moment he felt the blade’s icy tip tearing through his shirt to enter his chest.
The stinging sensation caused him to stiffen, and he realized she’d stabbed him. He could see her eyes widen in mute horror. He wanted to reach for her, to touch that glorious mane of hair, but he couldn’t will himself to do that. Weakness assailed him, and he toppled, falling into a dark pit of unconsciousness
7
“What am I going to do? What is to become of me?” Bethlyn wrung her hands together and paced the confines of the small room she’d been placed in earlier by the man caned Crane. This room wasn’t as nice as Hawk’s cabin. The floor felt damp to her bare feet, and in the light of the dawn from the small cabin window, she saw that there wasn’t even a bunk. A small pallet rested near the wall, but no blanket offered any warmth. The room was as bare and lonely as she felt.
Each time she heard footsteps outside the door, she stiffened, waiting for someone to come in and drag her outside, to cast her overboard for killing Captain Hawk. The whole incident blurred in her memory. All she could remember was her fear of the man, of his searing kiss, which turned her legs to jelly, and how she’d very nearly succumbed to him before sanity returned. Then his tenderness vanished and he would probably have forced her into his bed, except for the knife. She shook her head, wanting to drive away the image of the man’s masked face from her mind. She had been unable to see his eyes, but she knew that surprise and shock must have mingled within them. As long as she lived she’d recall the sensation of cutting into him, the warmth of his blood upon her hand.
“God help me, I’m going insane,” she muttered aloud, and took a deep, controlling breath to steady herself. She longed to cry but wouldn’t give into tears. Keep your wits about yourself, her mind repeated over and over. But it was hard not to be frightened. When Crane broke open the cabin door to find Hawk lying by her feet, the dagger protruding from his chest and her hand and gown covered in the man’s blood, she thought she was as good as dead. Crane had roughly pushed her aside and called for help. Instantly the cabin was overrun with Hawk’s men, and Crane issued orders to one of them to take her away to this small, cold room.
Crane never glanced in her direction, but she sensed his recrimination of her. The privateer who herded her away from the cabin didn’t speak to her, only shoved her inside and locked the door as if she were a criminal, a murderess.
“I didn’t mean to kill him. It was an accident,” she had stated, but no one listened to her, no one believed her.
Sinking to the pallet in abject despair, she wondered how soon it would be until someone came for her. Her mind reeled with thoughts of Jeremy, Mavis, even her father. Would he miss her? She doubted it. Certainly, her errant husband wouldn’t care that she’d been killed by privateers when he learned of her demise. The circumstances surrounding her death would mean nothing to him. She’d ably defended her honor, and for what? All she’d succeeded in doing was killing the debaucher who’d have raped her and getting herself hung or thrown overboard for the deed. A shiver wracked her to contemplate her own end.
She knew it was late afternoon because the sun was sinking behind the horizon when the waiting became almost more than she could bear. The sound of the key grating in the latch catapulted her to her feet. Breathing hard, Bethlyn watched as the man who’d brought her there entered the cabin, a tray balanced in one hand and a nasty looking knife in the other.
“Don’t be gettin’ any ideas about runnin’, missy. I don’t want to hurt you, but I seen what you did to Captain Hawk, and I ain’t about to be one of your victims.”
Another man eyed her cautiously from the doorway as the first man placed the tray on the floor beside the pallet, “Best eat up,” he said. “If word leaks out that I’m feedin’ you, me and my friend here will be taken to task by the others. You ain’t a very popular lady today.”
Bethlyn noticed the way he sneered the word “lady,” and she couldn’t help but wince.
“I won’t apologize for what I did,” she said almost haughtily. “I was defending myself — but I didn’t mean to kill him.”
Through the mask, the man’s eyes shifted, and he appraised her, unable to look away from her. “You’re a peculiar one, I give you that. I ain’t never met a doxy like you. It’s clear you ain’t like those others, but give it up, miss. All Hawk wanted was some fun with you. You had no need to hurt him like you did. I mean, you weren’t givin’ nothin’ to him that you ain’t already gave to other fellows.”
“That’s not true! Please, tell me what is to be done with me, I didn’t mean to kill the horrid man!”
A huge grin split the man’s lips. “Hawk ain’t dead, miss. But I will tell you that you did a nice job of almost sendin’ him to the beyond. Any other man would most like have died, but Hawk is stronger than most men. I taught him everything I know about the sea,” he said with pride and a hint of sorrow in his voice. “I wouldn’t want to hate you for what you did, but I’d have no choice if you’d killed him. Hawk’s like the son I never had.”
“He isn’t dead?” Bethlyn sounded unbelieving.
“Nay, but, mind you, he almost died. He’ll pull through, and I’m glad for your sake.”
Bethlyn didn’t care for the warning in those words. The man moved towards the doorway, and Bethlyn said, “I’m grateful for the food. Thank you, Mr.—”
“Sparrow.”
“I should have known. Everyone on board has a bird’s name. Why is that?” she asked, thinking that a sparrow suited this plain-speaking and nondescript-looking man.
“Birds like freedom, miss, and also birds are hard to catch.”
“Yes, and Captain Hawk is the most high-flying bird of all of you.”
Despite the fact that Sparrow probably didn’t like her a great deal, he managed to smile warmly. “Aye, he is, and don’t you forget that.”
After he’d gone, she realized she was terribly hungry and gulped down the bowl of broth, which was cold, but she didn’t care. She felt that a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Captain Hawk wasn’t dead, and now she had no fear she’d be killed by his men. Though a lethargy stole across her and she’d have liked to sleep, Bethlyn found she couldn’t.
Captain Hawk had survived, and now for the first time, she wondered just exactly what that would mean for her.
~
Two days later Mavis visited her. Her friend sat next to her and the two embraced, Mavis fighting back tears.
“I’m so happy you’re all right, Bethlyn. Crane told me you were placed here. I’ve wanted to see you, but it wasn’t until last night I convinced Crane to allow it. Since Captain Hawk is recovering, Crane is in charge.”
Mavis mentioned that fact almost proudly, and Bethlyn sensed a change in her friend concerning this privateer named Crane.
“Mavis, you may tell me that it’s none of my concern, but how did you convince this Crane fellow to allow you to see me? Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”
Mavis blushed, but she smiled such a brilliant smile at Bethlyn that Bethlyn gasped. “You did!”
“I love him, Bethlyn. Be happy for me. From the moment I met him I knew Crane was special. Last night was the happiest night of my life. Crane asked to marry me, and I agreed.”
“You know nothing about him. For heaven’s sake, Mavis, the man is a privateer. He and his captain confiscated my father’s ship,” Bethlyn reminded her.
Mavis nodded sheepishly. “I know that, but Crane is a good, decent man. He feels it’s his duty to anger the British.”
“You’re British. How can you marry such a man, knowing how he feels?”
“I love him, he loves me. That’s all I need to know. One day you’ll fall in love, too, and will understand. Be happy for me, I beg of you to understand.”
Bethlyn hugged Mavis and assured her that she did understand, but she didn’t. She felt betrayed by Mavis, the one person besides Jeremy she thought she could count upon. It seemed that she was now truly alone. Before Mavis left her, Mavis said, “I haven’t told Crane about who you are. As much as I love him and believe him to be a good man, I’m not certain he’d keep this information about your identity from Hawk.”
“I’m grateful to you for that. How is Captain Hawk’s recovery progressing?”
Mavis hesitated. “He’s better, but…”
Bethlyn cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
“He plans to send for you soon.”
Cold fear clutched at Bethlyn’s heart, but she managed a brave facade. “Good, I hope he does. I have a great deal to say to the hateful man.”
“Be wary of him, Bethlyn. Hawk isn’t a puppet like Jeremy, or uncaring like your husband. You injured him, and I doubt he’ll soon forget that.”
“I hope he’s scarred for life and every time he sees it, he’ll think of me.”
Mavis sighed. “Believe me, Bethlyn, Captain Hawk will never forget you.”
Bethlyn feared as much.
~
The summons came three days later.
After having spent a total of five days in confinement and without benefit of bathing, Bethlyn gladly followed Crane when he ushered her from the small room. A sense of fear filled her with each step she took, and when Crane pushed her into Hawk’s cabin, her legs shook and nearly gave way. She’d had adequate time to think about what she’d done and to be sorry for hurting the man, but she wouldn’t cower before Hawk like a frightened sheep and refused to apologize to him, no matter what punishment he decided to mete out to her. She’d had enough bullying from her father to last a lifetime, but not once had her father physically harmed her. She doubted she’d be able to say the same for Hawk.
No matter what she’d done, she didn’t deserve to be punished any further, and she’d already decided that she wouldn’t allow the hateful privateer to sense her fear of him and worry as to what he’d do to gain his revenge upon her. However, no matter what he decided to do to her, she resolved to make it as difficult as possible for him to get any satisfaction from her punishment. She’d scream and kick and bite if necessary, but she’d be damned if she’d allow him to harm her without putting up a fight.
Hawk’s raspy-sounding voice broke into her thoughts when she heard him say, “Come in, Beth.”
No sooner was she inside than the door closed behind her, but she guessed that Crane was on the other side, ready to defend his captain if she took it into her head to do away with the man again.
Twilight started to descend, and without the lantern-light the cabin retained an eerie glow. At first she didn’t see Hawk, but she felt his gaze upon her and, glancing towards the bunk, she made out his silhouette as he rested against a number of pillows.
“I won’t bite,” he assured her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she snapped back, instantly on the defensive.
“Good. I like a woman with spirit, even if she’s fool enough not to be afraid. Or are you so foolish as not to be afraid of me, Beth?”
Her mouth suddenly dried up. Was there a hint of menace in his voice, or did she imagine it? Perhaps he wanted her to be afraid, and, God, she truly was, for at that moment she realized that he still wore the hawk mask over his face. If he wished to intimidate her, he was doing a good job of it. Even in his invalid state, the man caused her limbs to quiver. She might stiffen her spine and pretend not to fear him, but when she spoke her stammer betrayed her.
“I don’t know … what you — you — mean.”
“Of course you do. Your voice is filled with fear, though I do admire you for not wanting to admit it. Please, could you light the lantern for me? I wish to see you.”
“I shall not be made an insect for your perusal, sir,” she said, and lighted the lantern which hung on the wall.
Soft candlelight filtered through the room, and when Bethlyn turned, she couldn’t help but wince at Hawk. In the semidarkness, she’d been afraid of him. In the light she noticed how pale he appeared against the darkness of the mask on his face. His shoulders were still broad, his arms powerful looking, but the white linen wrapped around his chest was proof of his vulnerability. The great Captain Hawk, the man who inspired fear in the British and other privateers alike, was still only a man. His men knew this now with no uncertainty. Bethlyn sensed Hawk was a proud man, and heaven knew how much he must hate her for what she’d done to him. She’d managed to reduce him to an invalid.
She made a move towards him, no longer afraid.
“Are you in much pain?” she asked, biting at her lower lip.
“Do you care?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “You deserve my hatred of you. If you recall, you attempted to force yourself on me.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but I do seem to remember that for a moment or two you didn’t mind.”
The hateful wretch was throwing up her weakness in her face. How dare he allude to a moment of folly at a time like this! She wasn’t the one who’d kissed him until her head spun, until she couldn’t think clearly. “You’re a horrible man! I hate you!” she ranted.
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Then toss me overboard and be done with it! I can’t abide one moment longer in that little hole I’ve been put into. Any punishment is better than being forced to endure such an existence.”
It seemed that for the first time he truly noticed her. His eyes behind the mask scanned her thoroughly until she couldn’t help but blush. She knew she must look a sight with her hair all atumble, not having brushed it in days, and the dried blood on her gown. Admittedly, she’d nearly killed him, but any punishment would be better than being confined.
“You’re quite a stalwart soul, Beth. What makes you think I intend to punish you?”
She nearly laughed. “Well, of course you shall. You’re a pirate, a rebel who lives by thievery. You have no heart, none at all. But mind you, Captain Hawk, I won’t take to torture easily. I’ll fight to the death if need be. You won’t find me a docile puppy under the whip.”
“Oh, God, this is too rich!” Hawk did laugh, a sound which was filled with amusement and possessed of a delightful timbre. She found herself hating him all the more for laughing at her.
“What is the matter with you?” she cried, thinking he might be a bit demented.
He pointed a tanned finger at her. “You’re a delight! What sordid pieces of literature have you been reading? At least I assume you can read to make such an idiotic and totally false assumption.”
“I’ve read a great deal about pirates and privateers. The whole bunch of you are a scurvy lot.”
Hawk bowed his head. “My thanks, madam. I should rather be considered a scurvy knave than a slave to a foreign power.”
He’d grown serious, and Bethlyn decided that he had no intention of punishing her, but the next words out of his mouth dispelled that notion.
“I believe your punishment must fit the crime.”
Her eyes grew large and the pupils shone like two amber-colored lights. Once more she felt fear and pushed it down. “I shall fight,” she whispered.
Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) Page 11