He wasn’t lying when he told David he’d stopped smoking the opium pipe, but he still used laudanum. “He’ll never change his mind. Don’t ask me why, he has a good reason. Besides, what if he’s dead? The dead can’t talk.”
David stood and crossed to the balcony and stood with his back to the sea, elbows resting on the railing. He turned his head sideways to look at Alex. “You really would give up everything, risk all—you have no heir, remember—to go after Murad?”
Bitter bile rose to choke him. “Yes. I have brothers.”
David turned toward the rail and looked out to sea. “I assume you haven’t told her about your pledge to her father. That’s a tad cruel.”
“I thought that as she grew older she’d see through her silly infatuation to the man underneath and realize she could do so much better elsewhere.”
“Perhaps she has seen through the infatuation and she likes and respects the man beneath. Come, Alex, you are being too hard on yourself.”
Done with this conversation lest he blurt out the terrible secret of why he couldn’t marry her, he said, “There is one reliable way to ensure she’s safe.” Alex turned pleading eyes on his friend. “I owe you so much already, but I want Hestia protected for the rest of her life. I want to know she’s married to someone who’ll look after her, someone who’ll cherish and provide for her, someone I trust and love like a brother. If I ask it of you, will you marry her to protect her? It will stop this nonsense once and for all. It will give me some peace knowing you’ll be there to look after her should I fail in my quest for revenge.”
David reddened. “Lady Hestia is highly unlikely to agree to this plan.”
“If I’m dead…I expect you to sweep in and pick up the pieces. Come now, you’ve seduced many women. How hard can it be to woo her?”
“You can’t force someone’s feelings. If she loves you she might not wish to ever marry anyone else.”
“Leave that to me. This voyage is the perfect opportunity to destroy any tender feelings she has for me. You’ll be a ray of sunshine compared to my dark, stormy composition.” Alex closed his eyes against David’s piercing gaze. He opened his eyes and looked pleadingly at his friend. “It really is for the best, and it helps you too. She’s very wealthy.” David’s lips curled up in a snarl. “Don’t look at me like that. You know it would be more advantageous to marry into wealth.”
David stared at Alex for what seemed like a century. Alex watched him battle with the request. Finally he ran a hand through his hair, his mouth set in a firm line. He was struggling with a reply.
“I’m not doing this for the money; hell, if I wanted money I could have married years ago. I’m doing this because if one of my sisters needed protection, I’d want someone I know and trust to look out for her. So I give you my word: if, and only if, after all this, the earl is dead, or something happens to you, I’ll have the great honor of asking for Lady Hestia’s hand in marriage. But on one condition—that she accepts freely. I don’t wish to be married to a woman who resents me for the rest of her life.”
He understood what his friend was saying. David had too much pride to force Hestia into marriage. But Alex had to protect Hestia from himself. The beast within, which cried out for release, would destroy everyone he cared about. The memories and nightmares were tormenting him once again from the minute he’d decided to go after Murad. He could feel himself beginning to be unable to control his need for the laudanum’s sweet release. Without a woman around to lose himself in pleasure, the pull of the opium tantalized like a genie in a bottle.
He’d destroyed Tulay, and if he fell under opium’s hypnotizing spell once more, he did not want Hestia anywhere near him.
David had agreed.
For the first time in over five days, Alex finally felt his body relax. He knew of a way to drive Hestia to David and he’d do it. His stomach settled, his shoulders loosened, and he felt an inner peace.
Whatever happened on this trip, he’d just ensured Hestia would be safe. Whether they found her father or not, Hestia was safe. His fate was set. He would have the revenge he craved against the man who’d taken every shred of his dignity and pride, and then he would….What would he do?
His heart seized on his next breath.
What would he do?
He’d think on that once this was all over.
Chapter 8
The next day, Hestia spent a pleasant afternoon helping some of the men wash and repair clothes. One thing about Alex, he expected things to be kept clean. He’d always been fastidious about, well, everything: clothes, house, carriage, horse. She remembered how on their trip home he stopped often to ensure he carried enough water on board to keep the ship, men, and clothes all spotlessly clean. Jacob would shake his head when he complained of dirt on the anchor chain. It was almost an obsession.
Like Alex, she too had a mission: to make him notice her in the most primitive way—as a sensual woman. Alex’s mission was to find her father. By the time they did that she hoped Alex would be smitten.
She’d make Alex fall in love with her, and perhaps then he would demand her hand in marriage from her father.
When Alex wanted something, nothing stood in his way. It was time she took control of her dreams instead of waiting for someone else to change her world. All she had to do was make Alex want her—for his wife. No mean feat when dealing with a notorious rake. One who’d avoided marriage as if it was the black plague.
Still, she thrived on a challenge, and this one would be a lot of fun.
A thought about her father entered her head. This time she would not sit back and say nothing. She would tell her father exactly what she thought of him and his desertion.
Still playing the words she would say to her father over in her head, Hestia entered the stateroom. A wave of disappointment swept through her at finding it empty.
Alone and able to stand and stare, she was even more impressed by the dignity of the room than when she’d seen it this morning. A magnificent Persian carpet covered most of the floor. The rug’s brilliant reds and blues added to the room’s vibrancy.
At the far end of the cabin stood a heavy claw-foot table, currently set up with her lunch. She moved further into the room fascinated by the table that dominated the other side of the wide stateroom. The large desk strewn with charts and maps contained one decanter of what she assumed was brandy and one of whiskey. Near the doors to the balcony at the rear were three high-backed leather armchairs that made the room look more like a prestigious gentleman’s club.
Making her way across the rug toward the table she spied the door on her right that would be Alex’s cabin. Hestia glanced left and right. This might be her only chance; the stateroom was virtually never left unattended. She stood biting her lip between her teeth and decided it was worth the risk of being caught. She took a deep breath and slipped into Alex’s cabin, hoping curiosity would lead to knowledge of the man she hoped to come to know.
She tried the door handle and to her surprise it was unlocked. Alex obviously didn’t keep anything of value in there. As she stepped inside, her mouth dropped open in surprise. No, he didn’t keep anything of value in there. He kept—almost nothing. The cabin was very spartan. His wood-framed berth was built into the bulkhead, draped like hers, with curtains to block out the light and keep heat in. There was only a washstand in the corner and a large leather sea chest by the foot of the bed. There was a door at the opposite end of the cabin that opened out onto another balcony, much smaller than the one off the stateroom. Hestia raised an eyebrow; for a duke and charming rake, he traveled light.
Hearing voices, Hestia quickly left the cabin and took her seat at the table, raising her teacup to her lips trying to look the picture of innocence.
She almost dropped the cup when Alex entered. She felt the flush of feminine desire seep into her bones.
He had been up on deck, for his hair was tousled. Suddenly her hands began to shake so much the tea slopped over the sides onto the t
able.
He still wore it. Her necklace.
Why had she not seen it that morning? She saw the outline of the shells under the fine linen of his shirt. He still wore her necklace. What did it mean?
His sea-green eyes stared at her, sending more heat through her body, pooling in her loins. Images from her dreams flashed before her eyes and her face turned scarlet, realizing he was far more potent than anything she could have imagined. She lowered her eyes to the table.
“Jacob tells me you’ve been very helpful this morning, thank you, but you don’t have to—”
“I like to help.” She had to put the teacup down, as her nerves would not settle. Excitement skittered through her. “It feels good to be useful.”
He nodded before moving across to the maps on the table. “I hope the weather holds.” He crossed to the desk and perused the maps. Over his shoulder he continued. “You will have all your meals here, but during the day the officers and I need this room to work. So you’ll have to stay in your cabin or up on deck—”
She interrupted him. “That’s all right. I’d prefer to spend more time up on deck anyway.”
Alex turned to her and rolled his eyes and sighed. “You will not leave the area around the quarterdeck cabins, nor wander the ship unless you’re accompanied by either me, David, or Jacob, is that clear?”
Hestia eyed him warily. He seemed to be in earnest. “Care to explain why I cannot roam freely? What are you not telling me?”
Alex leveled his steely gaze at her. Through gritted teeth he said, “You’re no longer a young girl, you are a woman. This ship is far larger than the schooner we previously sailed on. There are too many men on this ship, many that I don’t know. I can’t guarantee your safety if you wander about above deck.”
“But surely they know I’m under your protection; they wouldn’t dare hurt me. Where would they go?”
Alex’s eyes raked her from head to foot. “Men often don’t think with their heads. And for a woman like you, they’d dare. Besides, there are other dangers such as falling rigging or being knocked overboard.”
His tone cut her like a knife. What did he mean, a woman like her? “I see. I shall of course be careful.”
Alex’s voice turned cold. “Stay in your cabin unless escorted on deck. I have enough to worry about without you falling overboard or worse.” And he turned back to his maps as if she didn’t exist.
What was causing Alex’s foul mood? “Are we being followed?” Her pulse hitched.
“Not that we can tell. However, they could be waiting ahead for us too.”
Guilt swamped her. All these men were in danger too. “I’m sorry for having dragged you into this. There was no one else.”
“Only because you stubbornly refused to marry over the past few years.”
Pain ripped into her chest. He spoke of her marrying someone else as casually as he spoke of the weather. “You appear to be in no rush either. You have a duty to produce an heir—”
“I’m not the one needing protecting. If you’d married like your father wished, I would not be in this position. Did you think on that?”
He’d never seemed so cold before. Worse still, she knew he was right. He was in this situation because she had no one to protect her. In a blaring instant, the truth hit her. She was as selfish as her father, putting her wants and desires before anything else. She’d refused every offer of marriage for the dream of Alex. Look what that was now costing him.
He was beginning to hate her and she could not bear that.
She stood, maintaining as much dignity as she could, dressed in her oversized men’s attire. “You are right. Turn the ship around. Go back to England. There is another way. My father will have to look out for himself. Me, I will have to marry regardless of my feelings and desires. Just like many other women, I have no choice.”
To her surprise Alex’s firm mouth softened. He moved to the end of the cabin and walked out onto the balcony calling over his shoulder. “It’s too late to turn back.”
She followed him and stood next to him. “No it is not.”
He stared down at her, his eyes looking for—she was not sure what. “Sorry, that was unkind to put this situation all on you. I’m sailing because I owe your father.”
What was that she saw in his eyes? Guilt. As if he lied. Guilt over what? “I know he helped rescue you from Murad, but surely you repaid that by rescuing me.”
A flicker of remorse crossed his fine features.
“I will never be able to repay your father for what he did for me,” he uttered softly.
She noted the haunted look slipping into his eyes. She wanted to reach for him, hug him, and chase away those terrible memories. However, she knew he would rebuff such a display of emotion.
“I’m still not clear how my father saved you. He has never spoken of it.”
White knuckles came into view as Alex gripped the railing tight. He stood staring out to sea for a moment before he turned and marched back to the table covered in maps. “Eat your lunch, Hestia.” With that he picked up a map and made his way back up on deck.
A cold wave of sadness washed over her. Whatever happened during his captivity, he was ashamed. She read it in his face, his stance, and the fear of someone learning the secrets in his eyes.
She never talked about her time in the pirates’ captivity either. She too felt shame at how her stupidity had led to her capture.
Invisible walls enclosed him, and it would take more than a battering ram to break through. Never had her task to get close to the real Alex seemed so impossible. She had no experience with men. How did she get Alex to confide terrible memories when she could not talk about her own experience, and it was nothing compared to his two years as a slave. Just then she heard Mr. Foxhall calling out to Jacob on the deck above.
Friends. Women confided in friends. Perhaps Mr. Foxhall could help her unravel Alex’s reluctance to let her get close. Would Alex have shared with his friend? She needed to be able to help Alex forget his past so they could build a new future. Alex still had feelings for her, she knew, for he wore her necklace.
She managed to compose herself before stepping out on the quarterdeck. Outside, she let her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. She looked up at one of the towering masts overhead. A young sailor was up in the yardarm.
The size of the ship was daunting. She couldn’t spy Mr. Foxhall and she had no idea where Jacob was.
Turning aft she looked at the elevated poop deck at the stern of the ship and saw men there cleaning weapons. If that was where the weapons were kept, then perhaps Jacob, given he was the captain, was among them.
With Alex’s cold words ringing in her ears, she put on her best smile and climbed the short ladder up to the poop deck, in the shadow of the mizzenmast.
The three men hard at work checking, cleaning, and putting away an array of weapons didn’t hear her approach. Tucking pieces of her escaped tresses behind her ear she called out, “Good day. May I help?”
Three sets of eyes turned to her at once. Their mouths dropped open as they stood gaping at her.
The eldest of the three, a giant of a man, well over six feet and full of muscle, stepped forward, a swagger in his step. One large forearm was covered with a tattoo of a naked woman and it flexed as he moved.
She backed away. These men did not look like sailors. They looked like hardened soldiers. Perhaps this had not been such a good idea, but she was still in view of the quarterdeck. She had not broken Alex’s rule.
“Now, where did you pop up from, my lovely? There is a woman under all those clothes. It’s our lucky day.”
She took a small step back toward the ladder.
The second sailor stepped around behind her, blocking her path to safety. He was smaller than the first and had a huge scar running down the left side of his face, making his mouth twist into a snarl. She fought down a shudder.
Hestia rallied. “Jacob sent me to help. He�
��ll be along in a minute—”
“Not likely. See that small dot up there?”
The first sailor spoke again. “She must be His Grace’s doxy. Perhaps His Grace wouldn’t mind sharing.” He moved closer. “Well, how about we pop in this here gun cupboard and I’ll introduce myself to you properly.” Then he laughed raucously.
“Leave her alone, Connor. His Grace will flog us all if you mess with her.” The third, younger and smaller, sailor stepped forward.
The man called Connor lifted a hand as if to strike him but thought better of it. “Shut up, you sniveling weasel. I’m just going to have a bit of fun.” He moved more determinedly toward her. “Patrick, you keep watch, this shouldn’t take long.” With that his hands snaked out to grab her. Hestia couldn’t get her feet to move, but just before his dirty fingers touched her, Patrick hissed, “It’s Foxhall.”
Hestia immediately moved to the edge of the poop deck and called down, “Mr. Foxhall, I’m up here looking for you. His Grace informs me you’ll show me around the ship.”
Mr. Foxhall’s eyes narrowed when he took in the three men circling her. He swung up the rope ladder and landed with a thump of his two huge feet on the deck. “Are you all right, my lady?” His size and manner quickly forced down the aggressive Connor.
She beamed prettily at him and crossed to his side. “I’m fine, thank you. These gentlemen were simply showing me the armaments.”
She hoped Mr. Foxhall couldn’t see her hands trembling; the last thing she needed was trouble. If Alex got wind of this threat she’d be locked in her room permanently, and that was the last thing she needed. But perhaps she’d be slightly more careful where and with whom she went on this ship.
He eyed the men suspiciously. “Well, men, get back to work. Stop staring or I’ll have the skin off your backs.”
Mr. Foxhall looked at her sternly. “I thought His Grace would have told you that this ship isn’t a safe place for a woman. Don’t you go wandering around without one of us by your side.” Looking directly at Connor he said, “Some men might forget their manners.”
Addicted to the Duke Page 9