by Merry Farmer
“Such as it is,” she murmured, merely repeating him while putting the pieces together. “So he purposefully put us in pirate waters.” She shook her head. “It had nothing to do with the storm.”
“No.” He swigged from the bottle, eyeing her all the while. “He and several of his crewmates joined Blackbeard and his crew. The rest were slaughtered.”
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment before she opened them to his. “What does any of that have to do with my brooch though? It is but a sentimental bauble that few knew about.”
Was it then? How sentimental exactly?
“Did you know your sister wrote to Luke?” he said, fairly certain he already knew the answer.
Her brows flew up. “I highly doubt that.”
“Well, she did,” he replied, still frustrated with his brother’s revelation. “Worse yet, she kept his letters when she was supposed to have discarded them. Something I only learned about when her trunk was being rummaged through in the tavern and the correspondences between her and Luke were discovered.”
The only beneficial thing that came out of those letters was what he learned about Rose. According to Hannah and Luke's inappropriate missives, she remained virginal. It seemed her husband was waiting for her to be ready before consummating the marriage, which was all but unheard of. For that alone, Thomas was grateful to the man. It said a lot about his character. Truthfully, he didn’t think he would have been able to do the same. Not when it came to Rose.
“Oh, dear, Hannah said all that in her letters?” she said softly, not knowing the half of it. She shook her head again. “Are you quite sure?” She flinched, focused solely on Luke and Hannah rather than the miscreants going through her sister's belongings. “You do recall the state of affairs between those two?”
Did he ever. How to phrase how peculiar things had truly become between them, though?
“From what I can tell, they were…a different sort of letter…each time.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Pray, tell.”
“Well, you remember how they often goaded each other?”
“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “It was tiresome.”
“It was,” he agreed. “And you would have thought with such behavior things would have ended with good riddance when we left only they did not.”
“To whom did she give the letters? How did they find Luke?” Rose’s cheeks reddened in unmistakable frustration. Moments later, he discovered why when she felt the need to explain herself rather than focus on the topic at hand. “I would have written you again…” Her brows furrowed and her chin notched, as she clearly conversed more with herself than him. “Or maybe I would not have.”
“Likely for the best,” he said dryly, reminding her most pointedly why they did not continue corresponding. “I doubt your fiancé would have approved.”
“You knew then?” Troubling silence settled before sadness flickered in her eyes, followed by a scowl. Just like that, her focus was back on Hannah and Luke. “We are not talking about us but them.”
Were they? Because it certainly did not sound like it.
He bit back frustration, remembering far too well the crushing moment he’d learned of her betrothal. She had said she would wait for him no matter how long he was gone. Yet she had not. She hadn’t kept her word but instead turned to another.
Loved another.
“Luke and Hannah evidently exchanged letters over the years,” he stated bluntly, no longer keeping things vague for her delicate ears, “of a sexual nature.”
Her eyes grew round as saucers. “Of a…a…what?”
“You heard me.”
“Surely, not clearly.”
“Very clearly,” he snapped, torn between being aggravated with her for breaking his heart and at his brother for his frivolous dalliance and the peril it had put them in. “Their correspondences were most certainly sexual….of a daring nature some might say.”
“Of a daring nature,” she mouthed, baffled before she gasped. “You remember the promise he made her when you two went off to war, yes?” She swigged the rum, likely trying to make sense of Luke and Hannah's interplay. More than that, Luke's veiled threat. “What he would do to her when next he saw her?”
“A threat not all that heeded I would say,” he murmured. “Considering the letters they exchanged.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I doubt he will see his promise through.”
Truth be told, based on their letters there was a damn good chance Luke would tie Hannah up and show her just where her flirtatious, teasing nature got her. Back then, his departing words had sounded like a threat of rape, but those letters had made clear it was more a cat and mouse game between them. A game she seemed eager to play.
But then that had been from the safety of her uncle’s plantation.
Now she was someplace else entirely with a man who most definitely meant to have her. Did he think Luke would take her against her will? Never. But he did not doubt for a moment he would bend her will to serve his purpose. A will that would bend easily enough he imagined.
“You mean to say you doubt Luke will see through his threat,” Rose muttered under her breath. “You were the one who made promises.”
“As did you,” he bit back.
Rose went to reply sharply by the looks of it but gathered herself and primly smoothed a skirt that was bloody well smooth enough. “I will not have you bait me, Thomas.” She shot him a look, the rum making her bold. “Stay on track.”
Bait her? Toward what end? An argument about her turning from her promise? He saw the clear winner in that discussion.
She cocked her head. “What do Luke’s letters have to do with my brooch?”
“You mean my brooch,” he said tightly before he could stop himself. But at the moment he damn well meant it.
Rose jerked back a little as if she’d been slapped, blinked several times then tore her eyes from his. “Yes, your brooch.” She pulled her shoulders back, gathered herself, and looked at him again. “What is the connection?”
“Luke talked about the bauble,” he said. “And those letters were in the trunk.” He shook his head. “Thankfully, he never used his name, so his anonymity remains intact.”
Her hand drifted to her chest where he suspected she typically wore the brooch. “I can only assume it had value to someone…other than me.”
“It did,” he conceded, finally telling her the truth about the dainty rather plain, floral brooch. “Though it was underwhelming, it was extremely valuable. Of the royal line and the only one of its kind, it ended up with my family, handed down generation upon generation. It is hundreds of years old.”
“I thought it a tad more becoming than underwhelming,” she said softly. “It was truly lovely.” She swallowed and didn’t quite meet his eyes. “A flower for your rose, I believe you once said.”
It was hard to imagine a time he’d spoken such romantic words, but they had been said. Back in a time where saying such a thing to a woman came easily. Back when he meant it with all his heart.
“Its appearance matters little.” He moved the discussion along before he got lost in her eyes. Before he forgave all and pulled her into his arms. Now was not the time for that. There might never be. “What matters is its extraordinary value.”
“Surely it is not that great,” she murmured.
“It is very great, indeed, Rose,” he confirmed. “Valuable enough to make a host of men very wealthy several lifetimes over.” He shook his head and gave her the cold, hard truth. “Enough so that Big Devil will never stop until he acquires it.”
Chapter 4
Overwhelmed by not only the battling earlier but by everything she had learned, Rose sat quietly and tried to gather her thoughts. Thomas, in turn, downed his rum and waited patiently for her to speak, much like he had in their youth. She’d always appreciated that about him and was glad to see that aspect of his personality unchanged.
How could Hannah have kept such inform
ation from her? Not just her correspondence with Luke over the years but the astounding fact that she had a way to contact him. That Rose might have had the same with Thomas. She scowled and shook her head, putting that thought from her mind. Better that they had stopped after the first few letters when he was still in the Royal Navy.
Yet she remained curious. “How did Hannah get the letters to Luke?”
Thomas shrugged. “They had their ways.”
She arched a brow. “And what ways were those?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why, when I did not know they were even corresponding?”
True. Still. Though she meant to leave it alone, she could not. She had to know. “Did you ever think to write me again?”
“No.”
She pressed her lips together, folded her hands in her lap, and fought a wave of emotion. How could he have grown so callous? She thought of his endless selfless gestures when they were young. Him reading to her as they strolled through the forest one cool spring morning.
“You are going to trip,” she had warned gaily, amused as he avoided branches and rocks, his eyes never leaving the page. He was a handsome sight in his navy uniform, issued by British Admiralty. A grey kersey jacket, lined with red cotton, and fifteen brass buttons. A waist coat of Welsh red with eighteen brass buttons, paired with red kersey breeches and double soled shoes. His cravat was tidy, and his hair neatly combed.
“I am too coordinated to trip,” he assured. “Besides, how could I trip when I am single-handedly assuring the hero makes it home to his love by reading this to you?” He winked at her. “Just as I intend to make it home to you.”
“I hope so.”
“Without doubt, my love.” He pulled her into his arms before she could dart away. “You know that, right? That I will always return to you?”
Her heart leapt though fear cut through her.
“I know,” she murmured but worried still.
“Do you?” He tilted her chin and searched her eyes. “I will help win this war then come home and marry you.” He fingered the brooch she had pinned to her dress. “Wear this and think of me until then.”
“Always,” she had whispered before his lips closed over hers.
“What happened to us, Thomas?” she said softly, taking in his appearance. Not tidy with gleaming buttons but casual without a cravat to be found. Rather, she could see the top of his chest. A rather sun darkened, muscular chest at that. “How did we go from them to this?”
When he looked at her in question, Rose shook her head. “Never mind.” She sighed. “In truth, it no longer matters.”
“No,” he agreed. His eyes lingered on her, his demeanor hesitant.
She cocked her head. “What is it?”
“Why did you still wear it?” he said. “Why did you wear my brooch all this time?”
Something Hannah and Luke had apparently felt the need to discuss in their letters.
While it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she felt lost without it that was confessing too much. He might have saved her thus far, but he did not deserve all her deepest feelings in exchange. Not after the heartbreak he had caused her.
“Habit I suppose,” she murmured. “It went well with most anything and as you said, was underwhelming enough not to draw too much attention.”
Now her sister had it. What good would that do?
“Why do you suppose Hannah took it?” She frowned. “Some might say to draw the enemy away from me but how are they to—” She widened her eyes when the truth occurred to her. “Oh, no, she means to let them know she has it, so they leave me alone, doesn’t she? To put her life on the line once again?”
“And my brother’s,” he muttered. “Based on her actions, I can only assume she means to try but fear naught, my brother will not allow her the opportunity.”
“Cap’n.” A heavy rap came at the door. “A word?”
“Aye, enter,” he called out.
Charles opened the door and nodded at Rose before addressing Thomas. “No sign of ‘em yet but that don’t mean nothin’. Want to wait ‘til morn for a better look or head north-northwest now?”
No sign of who? She was under the impression they were in the clear. And why would they go in that direction when her uncle was southeast?
“North,” Thomas said softly. “And keep the lights to a minimum.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Charles nodded again at Rose. “Ma’am.”
“I thought we were in the clear?” she said the moment the door shut. “And why are we heading north?
“It is best to remain vigilant and assume more might follow.” He sighed, sat back, his gaze softening this time when he looked at her. “As to heading north, I am afraid I have bad news, Rose.”
What kind of news could he have when they hadn’t seen each other in years?
“Go on,” she said, curious.
“As you know, your uncle tended to mistreat not just his kin, but his business partners,” he said. “Behavior that ended up having consequences not just for him but for you and your sister.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
He knew far more than she anticipated. She could see it in his eyes.
“You knew we were not returning to Virginia, didn’t you?” she said. “That he lost the plantation?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“What else do you know?” She considered him. “Obviously, about my husband.”
“Yes.”
Did he know about John’s untimely death in a carriage accident? “And what happened to him?”
“My condolences.”
She nodded thanks, not sure what else to say about it. John was a marriage of convenience that benefited her uncle. Though a kind man, he had by no means been a love connection. Not when her stubborn heart belonged to another despite him abandoning her.
“What is the bad news?” she prompted.
“I am afraid your uncle was betrayed by his men all the way around,” he replied. “He did not fare as well as you and your sister, however.”
“Oh, heavens.” She squeezed her hands together, bracing for sadness, but not surprisingly, felt very little. “What happened?”
“He was attacked where he ported,” he said. “His ship and worldly goods were taken then his life.”
“I see,” she murmured, saying a prayer for his soul. Even the cruelest deserved redemption.
“Have you any kin left in Virginia?” he said softly. “Somewhere I can take you?”
“No,” she whispered and met his eyes. “But then I imagine you know that having followed me so closely all these years.” She narrowed her eyes, sure her hunch was right. That he had not learned about her situation via those letters or even from her traitorous captain. It was in the way he looked at her. Spoke to her. The emotions she sensed simmering beneath the surface of his well-practiced façade. “Am I wrong?”
“You are not wrong.” His gaze was back to being unreadable. “But I only know what my man could discover.”
Which was clearly not that she often wore the brooch.
“Your man?” A strange little thrill swept through her, followed by renewed aggravation. He cared enough to spy on her yet remained afar when he promised he would come home.
“Yes,” he said. “Someone who was my eyes and ears on occasion.”
“Why?” She shook her head. “What was the point?”
“I would think that is clear.”
Her heart leapt into her throat until he continued.
“For situations such as the one you and Hannah just found yourselves in.”
“And we are thankful.” Though she should not give a damn, her heart sank. “Truly.”
What would she do now? Where would she go?
“There is much to discuss,” he went on as if following her thoughts. But then he had always been good at that, hadn’t he? She supposed, though, at the moment, it was just the logical thing to say.<
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“We will talk more on the morn,” he continued. “First, you should eat and get a good night’s rest.”
“No food, but thank you.” She shook her head, noting the swaying ship. “I best not test my stomach until we are in smoother waters.”
“Regrettably, I haven’t a change of clothes for you.” He gestured at his bed. “But I do have a warm, dry place for you to sleep.”
“What about you?” She frowned. “Where will you sleep?”
“Don’t worry about me.” He stood. “I will find a spot.”
“No,” she said before she could stop herself. The truth was she didn’t want to be left alone with a ship full of pirates just beyond the door. “Please stay here.” She glanced from the floor next to the bed, to him, trying to keep her tone even. As if the idea of sleeping in the same quarters didn’t affect her. “I would feel safer with you here.”
He sank back into his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and considered her. “You realize that if I remain here, it will not be on the floor.”
Well, he certainly was not the gentleman he used to be, was he? No, he was a pirate. A ruffian like the rest of them.
A ruffian, however, who had saved her life.
She glanced from the bed to him, remembering well his scent on it, and managed a jerky nod, hoping she did not regret this. “But of course…you will sleep on the bed.”
“With you.”
“With me,” she managed, taking another swig of rum.
“Good then.” He offered a roguish grin, pulled off his wet shirt, and revealed far more muscles than she anticipated. “Let’s get you into bed then, sweetheart.”
Chapter 5
Though he could have removed his shirt elsewhere, he just couldn’t help himself, enjoying her reaction. The man she once knew would have never done such a thing but the man he was today would, so she best get used to it. At least for now.