Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies)

by Lynette Vinet

  At that moment, Bethlyn envied Mavis, the daughter of a poor fisherman, and ached to know how Mavis felt. Bethlyn cleared her throat. “Perhaps I should return later.”

  Mavis shook her head and got off of the bunk, clutching the sheet and bringing it with her. “No need, Bethlyn, Crane is on duty. Would you like some tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  After Mavis poured the tea and handed Bethlyn the cup, she watched while she drank it. “You look wretched,” Mavis noticed. “You have dark circles under your eyes. Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

  Bethlyn grimaced. “How is a person expected to sleep when the occupants of the next room are rutting?”

  “No! Who was Hawk with?”

  “Della, I think. It doesn’t really matter.”

  Mavis gently touched Bethlyn’s hand. “It matters to you, a great deal more than you’re letting on. Are you in love with Hawk?”

  “Are you crazy?” Bethlyn leaped to her feet and dropped the cup on the floor, spilling the tea on a small Persian rug by the bunk. “You’re insane to even suggest such a preposterous thing to me, Mavis. I loathe the man, despise the bounder.”

  Calmly, Mavis took a linen towel and dabbed at the tea stain and placed the cup on a round oaken table. “Don’t act so hotheaded, Bethlyn. I only asked you a question. However, you don’t have to answer me.”

  “I did answer you!” Bethlyn retorted, her brown eyes shooting amber fire at her friend.

  Mavis laughed softly. “You told me I was insane, that you loathed and despised Captain Hawk. Not that you didn’t love him. To quote one of your favorite writers, ‘I think the lady doth protest too much.’ “

  “I can’t love him.” Bethlyn grew weak-kneed and sank onto a chair. “The man is an arrogant, pompous beast, and if that isn’t enough, he’s an enemy of the Crown. Mavis, he destroyed one of my father’s ships.”

  “But do you love him?”

  Every instinct within Bethlyn told her that no, she could never love Hawk. Her mind reeled with all the reasons she shouldn’t love him, but her heart beat out the message that she might care for him more than she realized. She’d been jealous of his night with Della, her flesh had burned when she imagined that she, not Della, could be lying beneath his searching hands, enjoying his kisses. But she’d never know such pleasure, would never be happy and contented like Mavis in her newfound love.

  “I have a husband,” she said lamely.

  “Yes, you have a husband who has ignored you for seven years, who sends you baubles and trinkets. But those gifts don’t warm you at night, Bethlyn. Take my word on that. I’d never give up one moment of my time with Crane for a ruby necklace or anything else. I love him more than my own life, and treasure each and every kiss and touch. I want you to feel for Hawk what I feel for Crane.”

  Love shone in Mavis’s eyes for Crane, and Bethlyn experienced that stab of envy once more. “I’m happy for you and your privateer, but Hawk detests me as much as I detest him. There’s no hope for either of us, I’m afraid. Besides, I must worry about what I’ll do once I’m off this ship and in Philadelphia. I can’t come to my husband as spoiled goods.”

  “Do you think Ian Briston will care?” Mavis asked her gently. “Perhaps you should seize the moment, for no one knows what tomorrow may bring.”

  Bethlyn gulped and managed a smile. “I hope it brings my freedom of this ship and Captain Hawk.” Quickly Bethlyn kissed her friend’s cheek and left the cabin, too overwhelmed to say anything more.

  She hated to admit that Mavis might be correct. Maybe she did love Hawk, but she doubted it. For years she’d buried any true emotions, knowing the pain of loving when that emotion wasn’t returned. She’d loved her father until she sensed his hatred of her, and she could have loved Ian Briston, if only he’d have taken her with him to America. She was certain she’d have loved him. Beneath his disregard for her, she thought he was a kind man who’d come to care for her. Not like the arrogant Captain Hawk.

  The object of her musings suddenly appeared on deck beside her. His masked face leaned down until he was but two inches from her lips.

  “What a sour expression, Beth. You look like you didn’t sleep at all well last night.”

  “I slept quite soundly,” she said, emphasizing each word.

  Hawk backed away a bit and flashed her a wide grin. “Good. Glad to hear it. I’ve a job for you to perform.”

  Bethlyn fairly groaned. What now? she wondered.

  Before she could utter a word, he grabbed her arm and steered her in the direction of his cabin. When she started to protest, he threw open the door and, before her startled eyes, she noticed that the table he used for going over his paperwork had been transformed into a breakfast setting for two. She blinked her astonishment, not quite believing that fine, gold-edged china and Bavarian crystal sat upon a snowy white tablecloth. In the center of the table was a large gold candlestick, and the flickering candlelight melded into the warm sunshine which streamed into the cabin from a wall of windows. Beside the table stood a masked sailor who politely bowed and helped her into her chair.

  “What is all this?” she asked Hawk, her bafflement plain to see.

  “Breakfast. “

  “But … but, I don’t understand.”

  Hawk shrugged his massive shoulders and took his place across from her. “Nothing to understand, Beth. You must eat, and I must eat. I decided we should eat together. You don’t object, do you?”

  Was he giving her a choice? Bethlyn couldn’t believe that he would, but from the hopeful way he leaned forward, she sensed that he was. “No, I don’t object.”

  He motioned to the sailor to serve them, and after they’d eaten a breakfast of warm biscuits and oatmeal, which Bethlyn realized had tasted better than the eggs and sausages at Aunt Penny’s, topping it off with, of all things, a spicy-tasting liquor at eight in the morning, she couldn’t help but grin.

  “What’s so amusing?” Hawk asked, and it seemed that he watched her closely, much too closely.

  “I was thinking that you might be attempting to seduce me.”

  “Do you find the idea of that so terrible?”

  Bethlyn ran her fingernail around the rim of her glass. “You assured me that you would act like a gentleman.”

  “I have, Beth.”

  “Yes, you have,” she agreed, trying to cast out the image of Della in his bed and being unsuccessful. Did the man think that a breakfast and liquor would make him more appealing to her? If so, then he didn’t know her very well.

  “I’m not so easily swayed by the trappings of seduction,” she said.

  Sitting further back in his chair, he said, “Your words wound me. I didn’t intend for our breakfast to be taken that way.”

  “Then just how am I supposed to take this?” she snapped. “For days you treat me wretchedly, and then to take that horrid woman to b—” She stopped herself and felt the furious red flush devour her face.

  “I see.” He stood up and towered over her, appearing awesome and somehow more frightening in the clear light of day than on any night she could remember. Behind his mask she saw the pain in his eyes and knew that she was the cause of it. Bowing stiffly to her, she heard no trace of emotion in his voice. “I’m sorry to have offended you. Good day, Beth.”

  He left her, sitting speechless and staring stupidly at the door he’d just closed quietly behind him.

  ~

  For the remainder of the day Bethlyn didn’t speak to Hawk. A number of times she saw him, working on the rigging, issuing orders to his men, and more than once their eyes met. However, he never acknowledged her presence, and not only did she feel a strange sense of hurt by this slight, but guilt to realize that the cozy breakfast in his cabin was most probably his way of making amends for his treatment of her. She silently cursed herself and her snippish tongue.

  After a lonely supper in her cabin, she walked on deck. The night breeze slid sensuously through her hair and gently molded the skirt o
f her gown to her body. Bethlyn had no idea of the pretty picture she made as she leaned against the railing, her face lifted towards the heavens.

  “Look! A shooting star,” she cried and earned Sparrow’s attention as he stood behind the large ship’s wheel.

  “Aye, miss. I’ve seen quite a number of ‘em in my time.”

  Bethlyn turned to him. “Do you believe the legend that when you see a shooting star it means someone has died and gone to heaven?”

  Sparrow considered her for a long moment and smiled. “Nay, I’d like to think that it means someone has lost his heart to a lover. Or her heart. Whatever the case may be. I wrote a poem years back on just that thing.”

  This romantic side to Sparrow surprised Bethlyn. She’d never have thought this thin, dull-appearing man possessed the soul of a poet.

  “I write poetry, too. Would you recite your poem for me?” she asked and feared he might protest, but Sparrow only nodded and began in a hesitant voice.

  “A shooting star I did see. Up above the stormy sea. Silver fire streaked the sky and fell to earth with a sigh. My lady love now owns my heart. Never, never shall we part.” Sparrow finished, and he bowed his head shyly.

  “That was lovely,” Bethlyn told him, quite impressed, and touched the sleeve of his shirt. “What happened to your lady love?”

  For a second she felt a tremor rush through him, but Sparrow composed himself. “She was much too grand for the likes of me, miss. She was a grand lady on Jamaica, a relative of the royal governor. I knew she’d never marry me, and I didn’t ask her. Things just don’t work out the way you want sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bethlyn mumbled, sad for his pain.

  Sparrow glanced down at her. “Ain’t no reason why you can’t have things work out for you. I saw the way you been eyein’ Hawk all day, and he’s been lookin’ at you. Missy, if looks could melt, we’d all be swimming in the sea to cool off.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.” Purposely she used her haughty, icy lady’s voice which had worked so well in London whenever anyone broached the subject of her husband. Those people had been put off by it, but Sparrow wasn’t.

  “Don’t play games with me or with Hawk. You’ll lose him for certain.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want him.”

  In the moonlight Sparrow’s teeth gleamed brightly. “Aye, you want him all right.”

  The confounded blush rose to her cheeks again and she felt unbearably warm. Must she always blush so hard and give away her thoughts?

  Choosing to ignore him and not wanting to speak further about Hawk, she ran her hand along the circular wheel. “Is it very difficult to guide a ship?”

  “Nay, not if you learn how.”

  “Could I try?”

  “If you want.” Sparrow moved and allowed Bethlyn to stand between him and the wheel. He placed her hands on the smooth wood and guided her, explaining certain navigational laws to her. Nodding her understanding, she didn’t realize when he suddenly withdrew his thin hands from atop hers. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, her hair blowing gently in the wind, and she barely registered the fact that strong, powerful bronzed hands now guided her.

  “Leeway is measured by the angle of the course steered and the direction through the water. If the wind hits from the left, the ship will move to the right of the course and vice versa. Understand?”

  Hawk’s voice was so gentle, so heart-stopping, that she found herself mesmerized, and she lifted her face to his. “Yes,” she whispered, but she had no idea what he’d just told her and felt no surprise to find him behind her. His presence struck her as quite natural.

  He smiled at her. “You’re an apt pupil.”

  His body leaned into hers, and against her own better judgment, she molded her buttocks against his thighs and listened while he rambled on about navigation and the sea. Bethlyn heard not a word, but she didn’t want him to stop speaking. She trained her eyes on his lips, aching to touch them, wanting him to kiss her. Minutes passed and still he droned on. She felt he wanted to kiss her, knew that he wanted to do more than that by the hard bulge pressed against her buttocks. Sweat must have broken out on his forehead, for she noticed some droplets running down the length of his face, not concealed by the mask.

  A musky male scent enveloped her, the scent a man gives out when he wants to love the woman in his arms. Bethlyn found her body ached in the strangest place, a place she barely thought about. However, since being in Hawk’s presence the last few weeks, she found it throbbed more often. Pressing himself against her, she nearly moaned his name, so certain was she that finally he’d kiss her. The kiss didn’t come. He continued talking, but now his voice contained a husky quality, as if he ached for her, too.

  Kiss me! her mind screamed, and wondered why he didn’t. Suddenly, with clarity, she knew. She’d forced him to promise not to touch her, to act the gentleman. Apparently Hawk intended to keep that promise, no matter the discomfort to himself or to her.

  “The drift of any current is uncertain, at best,” she heard him saying. “A navigator must take special precautions to prevent…”

  “You horrid, aggravating man, do be quiet and release my hands.”

  “Why?” Hawk asked, growing peeved she knew by the tensing of his jawline, but he let her hands go.

  Turning to face him, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. “So I can do this,” she said in a silky, seductive whisper against his ear. Her lips touched his in a sweet kiss which shortly filled with fire when Hawk’s mouth responded. His arms tightened around her, pulling her against him with such ferocity she thought she’d break in two, but she didn’t mind. All conscious thought stopped for her. Bethlyn became a creature of delightful sensations, enjoying the heat of desire which coursed through her.

  She knew when he picked her up, only breaking their kiss to carry her the distance to his cabin. Placing her gently on the bed, she eagerly reached for him, their only light the shimmering silver orb in the sky.

  Hawk threw off his shirt, his muscles straining and bunching together when he reached for her and drew her against the hard expanse of his chest. Timidly Bethlyn ran her fingers through the springy pelt of chest hair, growing a bit bolder when she heard him groan.

  He caught her hand in his, stopping her. “Are you certain about this, Beth? If not, I’ll leave you alone. I promised to act a gentleman with you.”

  She thought she heard a bit of a smile in his voice, and she shook her head. “The last thing I want is a gentleman.”

  “Oh, Beth, Beth, that’s the last thing I want to be with you right now.”

  Expecting him to kiss her, she was a bit surprised when he bounded from the bunk and strode to the windows. She watched him pull the heavy drapes, blocking out the moonlight and encasing the room in total darkness. The reason was obvious when he joined her again and brought her hand to his face. His mask was gone.

  A small sensation of hurt that he didn’t entirely trust her to keep his identity was healed when his lips captured hers. She forgot everything but the growing fire within her. With expert hands he peeled away her dress and his mouth, warm and filled with heat, moved across her shoulders to find the sensitive tip of one of her breasts.

  Slowly, he suckled but his mouth grew greedy and soon devoured as much as could fill the cavity. Bethlyn moaned as a strange churning began in her loins and beat out a pulsating cadence between her thighs. Then he shifted his interest to her other breast, inflicting upon it the same sweet, mind-drugging torture as its twin. Her arms stroked his broad back, her flesh very much aware of the powerful man who pleasured her. Tiny, moaning sounds came from her throat, and she heard Hawk give a low, husky laugh before removing his mouth from her.

  In the darkness he moved his face even with hers. “You liked that didn’t you, Beth?”

  “Yes.”

  “I bet most men don’t pleasure you too often. But I’m going to be the one to make you moan with ecstasy.”

  In a
haze of growing passion, Bethlyn wondered what could be more wonderful than Hawk suckling her breasts, and though she found his statement odd, too overcome to realize he still thought her a prostitute, she wanted to know how he could make her feel any more wonderful than she did already.

  “Please do,” she whispered when his lips trailed across her naked flesh to kiss and nip at her breasts, her navel, and down the flat plane of her abdomen. Heedless of his tongue’s destination, she allowed him to part her legs, in fact, she willingly parted them for him.

  His breath warmed the spot between her naked thighs, and for a split second she nearly closed her legs, but Hawk’s hands gently kept them at bay.

  “What … what are you doing?” she panted, wondering if this was what all men did to women when they made love.

  “Let me love you, Beth,” he breathed against her silken down. “I want to love you as no man ever has.”

  Before she could speak again, he buried his face into the velvet folds of her body, and he speared her with his tongue. She arched away from him in a panic, but his hands stroked her inner thighs, gentling her, and then his hands settled on her buttocks and pulled her closer while he feasted upon her sweetness,

  Bethlyn’s mind screamed for him to stop, to never stop. Never in her life had she known such a gathering of violent and infinitely delicious feelings in one part of her being. Her body writhed and wriggled, unable to discover what to do with the building force of heat within her. She felt as if she’d been thrown into a storm of white heat, so scalding, that she only knew something horrible or wonderful was destined to happen. Before she was prepared for it, her body exploded in a tempest of silver sparks, so fantastic and intense in feeling that she cried out Hawk’s name,