Dark Before the Rising Sun

by Laurie McBain

  Lucien Dominick’s scar whitened. “It must have been obvious, from what you yourself have admitted, and from what I have heard from other sources, that my daughter was a very sick young woman when she arrived in Charles Town. And whether you believed her story or not, I find it reprehensible that you would have so little pity for a frightened girl who must have pleaded with you to take her to the authorities and who was in dire need of a doctor’s care. Are you so cold-blooded that you would turn a deaf ear to the desperate cries for help from a girl stricken with terror?” the duke demanded in a voice so harsh that even Rhea became frightened of him.

  Dante’s bronzed face paled under the censure of the Duke of Camareigh’s words. “Your anger and contempt are justified. Hindsight, of course, often changes our opinions about our actions and whether we would repeat them, but at the time I felt I had little choice. Considering the outcome, I have very few regrets,” Dante said in a quiet, unapologetic voice, but it must have cost him quite an effort, for every so often a muscle in his cheek twitched slightly.

  “As you may know, my past is not one to be proud of. Because of it, I left England and pursued a life totally different from what I had been accustomed to. I lost, through foolishness and misfortune, my family’s heritage and my wealth. Through the years, however, I have managed to amass a considerable sum of money, but until now never enough to achieve certain goals I set many years ago,” Dante explained, his eyes lingering on Rhea before meeting the duke’s accusing stare.

  “When Rhea stumbled aboard the Sea Dragon in Charles Town, we were about to set sail on a voyage that would change the lives of every one of us. We were going after sunken Spanish treasure, gold enough to make every man aboard rich beyond his wildest dreams.

  “With that treasure I could give up privateering and smuggling, and return to Merdraco and claim all that is rightfully mine. That goal was out of my reach until we discovered the treasure. I would not have let anything or anyone stand in my way of achieving that goal,” Dante told the Duke of Camareigh, his words ringing with that same sense of purpose and determination which had led the Sea Dragon to that cove along the Florida coast.

  “So to hell with my daughter and the rest of the world, was that it?” the duke asked, his words sounding like a death knell as he stared contemptuously at the man who faced him so boldly while explaining his treachery.

  “No, Your Grace,” Dante replied, refusing to be baited, for he knew Lucien Dominick’s fingers itched for the hilt of his sword. “As the voyage lengthened, I came to have another purpose in life,” Dante added, his eyes returning to Rhea, and their crystalline quality softened as he met her trusting gaze. “I fell in love with your daughter, and I had no intention of allowing her to leave the Sea Dragon. I am guilty of trying to keep her aboard, against her will, in Antigua,” Dante confessed, though not contritely. “But Rhea is most resourceful and managed to get ashore. Rhea is also completely unselfish and puts the welfare of others before her own. That was why, when an injured boy needed her, she returned to the Sea Dragon to care for him.”

  Lucien looked down at his daughter, unsurprised by this revelation. Unconsciously, he reached out to touch the long golden braid of hair. Sensing his tender regard, Rhea turned to meet his gaze, her eyes loving as she reached out to him. Her small hand was enveloped by his, just as it always had been. He had guided her with a steady hand when she took her first uncertain steps and when she rode her pony for the first time. He had always been there.

  But he had not been there this time, he thought sadly. His sweet Rhea Claire, his firstborn, had brought only happiness to their family. She was so incredibly lovely, so deeply beloved by all who knew her. That she, of all people, should have known the terrors of this past year hurt him more than any physical wound could have done.

  Unaware of doing it, the duke’s fingers traced the line of his scar while he gazed at his daughter’s exquisite face, and for an instant it was as if he were thinking of another face and another time. Whatever he was thinking, it tormented him.

  “Father? Are you ill?” Rhea asked. She touched his arm tentatively, not wishing to startle him, then squeezed his hand in the reassuring way a parent would have a child’s. It was a strange sensation to be comforting her father, for it had always been the other way around.

  Lucien shook his head, clearing it of the haunting memories of the past year and of a face so similar to Rhea’s. But that other face had masked an evil which had nearly destroyed his family.

  “I am fine, now that you are safely returned to us, my dearest child,” he said.

  As the duke gazed at his daughter, he gradually became aware of a difference in her appearance, a change which went beyond the physical.

  He had to admit that he had been startled by her incredible beauty when she opened the door and he saw her for the first time in nearly a year. He was not certain exactly how he had expected her to look, but after so harrowing a time, he would not have been surprised to find her a pale shadow of her former self. Instead, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Rhea Claire had always been a lovely girl, but she now possessed a warmth and vibrancy which had only been hinted at before.

  And although she was thinner, he couldn’t help but notice how womanly her figure had become beneath the thin material of her bodice. Her femininity was emphasized. She was blossoming. The gold of her hair was richer, the violet of her eyes deeper, the blush in her cheeks rosier.

  And suddenly it became all too clear to the duke. Until the kidnapping, she had possessed the innocence of a young girl. Now she was a woman. There was a new maturity about her. The duke had sensed some indefinable difference in the way she held herself; proudly, but with a new, intimate knowledge. There was a natural seductiveness in her smile and her glance; it was not coy or flirtatious, but unconsciously alluring, especially when her eyes lingered on Dante, their look altered subtly to the tender, knowing glance of a lover’s.

  The duke’s face was ashen, his scar standing out angrily as he came to his startling conclusion. Smoldering wrath flared inside him and communicated itself to Dante, who, meeting Lucien Dominick’s blazing eyes, reached out a hand to Rhea.

  Rhea reacted unthinkingly, stretching out her hand to his, locking her fingers with his, while her other hand was still clasped in her father’s grasp.

  “I think you should know, before you come to any more dangerous conclusions, the most important reason why Rhea stayed with me in London,” Dante said quietly.

  “Dante, please. I do not think this is the time. I wanted to explain everything to my mother and father. They need to understand—” Rhea began, only to fall silent as she glanced between the two men.

  “I think now is the time,” Dante said. “Your father has already assumed the worst. He believes I seduced you, perhaps even raped you. He believes we are lovers. I imagine he would gladly give half his fortune to see me hanging from the gibbets,” Dante speculated grimly.

  “No, Father, it is not true!”

  Lucien glanced down at his daughter’s beautiful, tearstained face, an uncommon gentleness in his eyes as he reached out and cupped her chin. “My sweet child,” he murmured sadly. “What you must have suffered. If only I could change the past. I do not blame you for what has happened. You are so young and innocent. You have been badly used by so many people. I only wish to protect you from further sorrow. I am going to take you home, Rhea.”

  “Father,” Rhea said softly, placing her hand over his, “I love Dante. He has never made love to me without my consent,” she admitted. Embarrassment stained her cheeks, but she met her father’s gaze directly and the truth of her confession could not be mistaken.

  It was not what Lucien wanted to hear. “Always so loyal. But I fear your loyalty is misplaced this time. It is painfully obvious to me that this man has seduced you. He took advantage of your innocence, my dear. He played on the confusion and loneliness you must have felt on f
inding yourself in a distant land, among strangers. You are merely the latest of his mistresses, and when he tires of you, he will discard you,” the duke said, meaning to destroy any illusions Rhea might have entertained about Dante Leighton. It was best for her to learn the bitter truth now no matter how cruel and unfeeling he might appear in her eyes.

  “I love Rhea,” Dante said simply. “I will not deny that I may have taken unfair advantage of her. Some might even be correct in accusing me of having seduced Rhea.”

  “Dante, no,” Rhea pleaded, feeling the sudden tightening of her father’s fingers against her chin. “I came to you willingly.”

  “You never really had any choice, Rhea. Once I decided I wanted you, I set about to make you desire me. Had I honored your virtue, then you would still be innocent in the ways of love. But it did not happen that way.”

  “You bastard.” Lucien spoke the words so quietly that Rhea was not aware that he had spoken until she saw him reach for his sword.

  “Father, please! You do not understand. Dante is my husband!” Rhea cried. Freeing her hand from Dante’s possessive grip, she placed both her hands restrainingly against her father’s sword arm.

  If the duke had been stabbed in the back, he could not have been more unpleasantly surprised. But Rhea’s declaration, rather than mollifying him, seemed to snap what restraint he had left. “I shall have the marriage annulled. Have you forgotten there is a Marriage Act? Rhea is underage, and she did not have parental consent. You would not have been able to obtain a license without it. Nor have you been in England long enough to have posted the banns.”

  “We were not wed in England,” Dante said, deriving a certain pleasure from the expression on the duke’s face. “We were wed on New Providence Island, in the Bahamas. We made our promises to a clergyman, in a church, and before witnesses. Our marriage was entered in the parish register and signed by both of us. It is, in the eyes of God and man, indissoluble. And,” Dante added, his eyes meeting the duke’s squarely, “it has been consummated.”

  Lucien Dominick was most dangerous when he seemed indifferent. For a moment, it seemed he had not heard Dante’s words.

  “Then I shall see Rhea a widow before night falls,” he said finally. There was no doubt that Dante understood the words spoken so softly and with such deadly intent, for his hand dropped to his sword as the duke drew his.

  And for Sir Morgan Lloyd, who had been standing in silence, his presence forgotten, there was no mistaking the smooth scraping sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. He had not wished to intrude and had been about to take his leave, but he felt he must interfere or there would be bloodshed. Could Lady Rhea Claire accept the death of either man at the hands of the other?

  Sir Morgan had taken a step forward before he realized that Dante had not drawn his sword.

  “I shall not raise a weapon against you. No matter what insult or provocation you give me, I shall not fight you,” Dante told the duke. “You are Rhea’s father, and for that reason alone I spare your life.

  “I am not a fool. I know I cannot really win a duel with you. If I allowed you the advantage, you most likely would kill me. If I fought you and won, then Rhea would turn against me for killing her father and I would lose her. So, should you still be intent upon letting my blood, think very carefully before doing so,” Dante advised the silent duke. “It would certainly be murder, for I would have been defenseless against your attack, and Sir Morgan would stand witness to the deed. Would you risk having Rhea turn against you? For you will have murdered her husband.”

  Sir Morgan breathed easier. The duke was no fool either and must certainly heed Dante’s words of undeniable wisdom, albeit cunningly inspired. Indeed, Sir Morgan was quite impressed by Dante’s cool logic, and couldn’t help but remember how elusive and challenging an adversary the captain of the Sea Dragon had been. The man possessed an instinct for survival which allowed him, in that first sensation of danger, to escape and profit at the same time.

  But whether Dante’s brilliant ploy would have succeeded on its own or not, no one would ever be sure, for Rhea Claire spoke then with quiet dignity.

  “I am with child.”

  And whether the future father or the grandfather-to-be was the more startled was anyone’s guess, for both men simultaneously lost whatever fight had been in them and stared in disbelief at the slim figure of the young woman standing between them.

  Sir Morgan coughed softly, then loudly cleared his throat, successfully gaining the attention of the three people standing in unnatural silence. “I think it best if I take my leave. This is a family matter,” Sir Morgan said with special emphasis on the relationship, which he sincerely hoped would eventually become less strained. “I fear I have already overstayed my welcome. Please do not concern yourselves that anything I have heard will go beyond this room. Your privacy will be respected,” he reassured them.

  “Thank you, Sir Morgan. I never feared that it would not,” Rhea responded and walked toward him, feeling it safe now to leave her father and husband alone. She held out her hand. “I do not know how to thank you for your many kindnesses.”

  “Lady Rhea Claire, it truly has been my privilege,” Sir Morgan said with a gallantry not usually associated with him. He took her hand and bent low. “I fear I shall not have the pleasure of your company again, and that is why I came to bid you adieu. May you find continued happiness, Lady Rhea Claire.”

  “Thank you, Sir Morgan. But I hope you are mistaken and that we shall be able to welcome you to our home. I am sure that I speak for my mother and father when I extend an invitation to visit Camareigh.”

  “Thank you. It would be an honor.” Sir Morgan glanced beyond Rhea, to where the Duke of Camareigh and Dante Leighton were still standing in silence. “Your Grace, by your leave?” Sir Morgan bowed slightly, before turning to Dante. “Captain, this is not quite the manner in which I thought we should be ending our association, but certainly preferable to one of us ending on the bottom of the sea. I cannot say it has always been a pleasure knowing you, but it has always been a challenge,” Sir Morgan admitted. “I fear that I shall be the only one to miss the figurehead of the grinning red dragon. Certainly not Bertie Mackay. You gave him too much competition, not to mention stealing much of his glory.”

  “Captain.” Dante held out his hand in friendship and farewell, reflecting that he respected and liked the captain of HMS Portcullis, and was relieved that they would no longer find themselves in conflict. “I wish you well.”

  “Thank you. Let us hope that Bertie Mackay is of a similar mind when I return to the Carolinas. And, from what I’ve heard downstairs in the taproom, I may have a hotheaded Irishman to be worrying about as well,” Sir Morgan said with a wry grin. Then with another courteous bow he started for the door.

  The Duke of Camareigh’s voice halted his progress. “You will be in London awhile longer, will you not?”

  Sir Morgan halted abruptly, for the question sounded like a command. Turning around, he faced the duke with a look of surprised inquiry. “No, as a matter of fact, I shall be leaving within a day or so. I shall travel to Portsmouth and, perhaps, time permitting, to my home in Wales.”

  Lucien seemed to be having a difficult time gathering his thoughts. His gaze kept returning to his daughter, as if still disbelieving of the incredible turn of events, and unwilling still to accept that there might not be anything he could do about the situation, or the circumstances surrounding it.

  “I should like to have a few words with you, Sir Morgan, since you have firsthand knowledge of my daughter’s experiences in the colonies. Perhaps, if you would not mind waiting for me in the taproom, we could discuss that, as well as certain other matters I am curious about,” the duke requested, his tone less peremptory this time. “I fear that we will not have the opportunity to talk later, for my daughter and I shall be leaving for Camareigh within the hour.”

 
Sir Morgan nodded, his glance straying to Dante, who seemed startled by the news of his wife’s impending departure. “I shall await your pleasure, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Sir Morgan. I shall be but a few more minutes.”

  As the door closed on Sir Morgan, Lucien held out his hands to his daughter, his expression no longer forbidding. “It is true?” he asked simply.

  “Yes, Father. I had not wished to tell you in this manner. Not about the baby, or about the marriage, I wanted to tell you and Mother together, at Camareigh. I wished you both to share in my happiness. Even Dante did not know until this moment,” she explained, her gaze uncertain as she glanced at her husband, for she had yet to discover how he felt about the child.

  It was Dante’s turn to feel that events were moving beyond his control. “It would seem there is quite a lot happening here without my knowledge,” he said quietly, his glance questioning. “Is it true? Have you decided to leave with your father?” he demanded, but his expression was doubting of any such thing.

  Rhea nodded, confirming his worst suspicions. “Dante, my mother is ill. I must go to her now. When you and Sir Morgan entered, my father was just beginning to tell me about her illness. Please try to understand. I must go to her. She must know that I am safe.” Although her eyes were beseeching, her voice made it only too clear that she had made up her mind to leave with her father, and nothing he could do or say could change that decision.

  There was a glint of satisfaction in the duke’s eyes as he said, “I shall have a maid sent up to pack your clothes. You will, of course, wish to change,” he added, distaste settling over his harsh features as he noted the buckskin skirt and the strange sandals with their rawhide straps entwined round Rhea’s calves. “It will be drafty in the carriage,” he commented, saying nothing further. “My carriage is below. We can be on the outskirts of London within the hour if we do not delay,” he added, his meaning clear as his eyes rested on the indolent figure of his son-in-law.