A Pirate's Love

by Johanna Lindsey

  "I said no. Now, do you want something to eat?"

  "What I want is a needle and thread. If you—"

  "Again the answer is no," he interrupted her.

  "But why not?"

  "Because without clothes, you won't be tempted to leave my cabin."

  "No?"

  "I think not," he replied with a half-grin, and then he left the room.

  Bettina quickly went to his chest, but when she opened it, her face flushed angrily. It was empty. There was nothing in the cabin for her to wear!

  :er

  'ETTINA marched fretfully back and forth across the cabin, with only a blanket covering her. It was late in the afternoon, and the ship had been anchored in the small cove for over an hour now. Bettina's pa­tience had left her and had been replaced by a seething anger. What was Tristan waiting for?

  The last two weeks had been miserable for Bettina. She had been forced to stay in the cabin with absolute­ly nothing to do. She wasn't allowed to see her mother at all, and Tristan brought all her meals. He was the only person she had seen in two weeks.

  The cabin door opened, and Bettina turned abruptly to see Tristan saunter into the room. She glared at him murderously, her eyes large, flashing emeralds.

  "When will you take me ashore?" she demanded shrilly.

  "Now, if you like," he returned calmly. "You can put these on, since you were once so fond of wearing them."

  She grabbed the clothes that Tristan held out to her, then turned away and donned the large breeches and V-necked shirt, using a piece of rope he was generous enough to include for a belt.

  "I have no shoes," she reminded him in a saucy voice.

  "That's too bad, little one. I wasn't about to grope around in the dark that night looking for your shoes. I guess I'll just have to carry you when we get to shore."

  "That will not be necessary!" she snapped. "Where is my mother?"

  "She is already on the island. Come."

  After twenty irritatingly slow minutes, Tristan pulled the small boat ashore and, with the help of the two men who were with them, carried it up the beach and put it with the other boat. He must have taken only a handful of men with him to come after her, for there was no one left on the Spirited Lady. She also saw that Captain O'Casey's ship was no longer in the cove.

  Tristan took her hand and dragged her along after him. When they reached the forest, he picked her up and carried her despite her protests until they came to the lawns in the front of the house. Then he set her down.

  Jossel and Madeleine waited by the front door for her, but when Bettina tried to run ahead, Tristan jerked her back beside him, his grip on her hand like steel. He kept hold of her, and when they reached the front door of the house, he took her on inside, not letting her stop to talk to her mother and servant for even a moment.

  "Let go of mel" she shouted, trying to pull away from him.

  But Tristan ignored her demand and continued to the stairs, pulling her roughly behind him. When he came to his room, he thrust Bettina inside and then closed the door, leaving her alone. She heard the key turn in the lock, and she tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. She could hear him walking away. She pounded on the door furiously, then listened again, but Tristan was gone.

  Damn him! He was going to stick to his word and keep her locked up. She couldn't stand much more of this confinement, seeing only Tristan, with his damnable smile and his lustful demands.

  She paced the floor. An hour passed, and then an­other. She wanted out! She froze when she heard the key turn in the door; then it opened, and Tristan came in with a tray of food in one hand. He locked the door again and set the tray down on the small table beside the bed.

  "How long do you intend to keep me locked in this room?" she asked, trying desperately to sound calm.

  "Until you give me your word that you won't escape again," he answered in a curiously patient voice.

  "Damn you, Tristan!" Bettina cried. She stamped her foot in fury. "I cannot stand this anymore!"

  "Then give me your word."

  "You go to hell!"

  "Such a temper," he laughed. "Your servant told me once that you were a gentle and loving girl. Is it only me that brings out your fiery temper?"

  "Until I met you, I never had cause for rage," she said contemptuously.

  "No? I hear you have lived most of your life in a rage." He smiled when she looked at him in surprise. "Yes, your servant told me about you and your father. Am I just a replacement for him, Bettina? Have you lived with anger so long that you must have someone to direct it toward?"

  "Enough, Tristan!" she wailed in a torn voice. "My father is dead!"

  A look of concern appeared on Tristan's face. "I— I'm sorry, Bettina."

  "I don't want your sympathy!" she snapped angrily.

  Tristan sighed heavily. "You really should try to curb your hotheadedness, Bettina. I won't put up with it much longer."

  "No? What will you do? Tie me up and gag me again? Or beat me this time? You enjoy making me suffer, don't you?"

  "No, I only want to give you pleasure," he replied softly. "You bring the suffering on yourself."

  Bettina pulled one of the velvet chairs over to the window facing the mountain and sat there watching the changing colors of the sky. The sun had set below the mountain a long time ago, but its dark mass was silhou­etted against the pinks, purples, and reds of the sky behind it.

  A slight breeze blew in through the open window, and Bettina pulled the blanket closer about her shoul­ders. A little while ago, Tristan had brought in her evening meal, but she ignored him until he left to go back downstairs to drink with Jules.

  A week had gone by since they'd returned to the island, and she was still locked in this room with ab­solutely nothing to do. Tristan had taken away the clothes he let her wear to come ashore, and he had re­moved both her clothes and his from the room.

  He kept the door locked even at night. He kept the key beneath the bedpost on his side of the bed while he slept. He had invited her to remove it when she saw him put it there, saying she could have her freedom if she could lift the bed, with him in it. But she couldn't —he knew she couldn't.

  After the first day, Bettina wouldn't talk to Tristan. She hadn't spoken to him at all for six days. She wouldn't even right him when he made love to her, which surprised Mm quite a bit. When he took her, she avoided responding to him until the last minutes; then her body took control. Afterwards, she turned cold again.

  But these last few days, Bettina had begun to look forward to Tristan's visits. She was starved for company and questioned him about what was going on as soon as he came into the room. But he told her little and would say nothing at all about her mother.

  But tonight, tonight she had decided to take a stand.

  He would be back soon, so she didn't have very much time. She got up and pulled the chair over to the door. She then moved the heavy Spanish chest and set this up against the door, leaning the chair against it. The other chair followed, and the small bedside table. She only wished she had the strength to move the bed.

  She sat on the bed and waited. It wasn't long before she heard the key turn in the lock. She flew off the bed and braced herself against her sturdy barricade. Tristan tried to open the door once and then again, but it re­mained shut.

  "Bettina, open this door—now!"

  "Like hell I will!"

  He shoved on the door again, and this time it started to open. Bettina strained against it, feeling her feet slipping on the rug. But then she heard Tristan walk away, then return with help.

  "How many times must I say it, Tristan? The vixen needs to be put in her place," Jules said gruffly.

  "Tristan, I—I am not dressed!" Bettina yelled in dis­may. She grabbed the blanket, wrapped it around her, and tucked it above her breasts, just in case they suc­ceeded in opening the door.

  "I suggest you get under the covers, Bettina—and hide," Tristan yelled back. Jules burst out laughing.
/>   She didn't hide, but braced her weight against the barricade again when the two men started leaning against the door. This time her feet actually slid across the rug and she almost fell on her face as the door opened.

  Tristan stepped inside and closed the door, and Bettina could still hear Jules laughing as he went back to his room. She backed away from Tristan and watched while he silently moved the furniture back.

  "Well, why don't you speak?" Bettina added. "Go ahead. Show me how angry you are."

  "I'm not angry. It was a good try, Bettina. At least your spunk has returned. I was beginning to think you had grown docile."

  "Tristan, I must get out of this room. I cannot stand it anymore!"

  "You know what it takes."

  "Very well! I promise not to escape again if you will tell me when you will let me go."

  "You are in no position to make bargains, little one," he replied, sitting down in the chair he had just returned to its place.

  "But why won't you tell me when you will return me to Saint Martin?"

  "Are you so anxious to see your Pierre again?" he asked coldly.

  "No. You—you can take me to any island, as long as I can gain passage there. It need not be Saint Martin," she said, trying to pacify him.

  "But then you will go to Saint Martin. What is the difference?"

  "You told me there is no room in your life for wom­en. You cannot continue to keep me here if you spoke the truth."

  "I'm not going to keep you forever, Bettina. I just haven't decided how long it will be."

  "I do not ask for a specific date, Tristan, just an amount of time. One month, two, three?"

  "Let us say one year, perhaps less."

  "One year!" she exploded. "No—that is too long! Surely you do not intend to stay away from the sea that long?"

  "No, probably not. I could leave you here alone from time to time, but only if I have your word that you won't escape."

  Bettina turned her back on him and gritted her teeth. A year was such a long time! How could she endure a year with him? But he said he would leave from time to time. Perhaps he would be gone for most of the year. And since she had discovered what kind of a man Pierre was, she wouldn't be going back to him. She wasn't really in a hurry to go anywhere. But she had to get out of this room.

  "Will you allow the time I have already spent with you as part of the year?"

  "If you insist."

  "Very well, Tristan," she said dejectedly.

  "Your word."

  "I give you my word I will not escape you, on the condition you will let me go in one year—or less."

  He laughed triumphantly. "Come here, Bettina."

  "To be submissive was not part of the bargain, Tris­tan," she replied tartly.

  Bettina awoke to a beautiful morning, with the sun streaming in through the window and birds singing on the roof. She was impatient to be up and about. She quickly shoved Tristan out of bed, telling him to go and get her clothes. He pulled his breeches on grudgingly and did as she asked. When he returned with her clothes, he climbed back into bed without a word and went to sleep again.

  Bettina had forgotten that her shift was torn, but she wasn't about to waste time sewing it now—she wanted to see her mother. Both of her dresses were of soft mate­rial, so it wouldn't matter if she wore her shift or not

  She chose the lilac cotton dress and donned it quick­ly. She left the room, not even bothering with her hair, allowing it to hang loose and flow down her back. Her bare feet felt the chill of the cold floor as she hurried down the corridor and descended the stairs.

  She saw Madeleine sitting at the long dining table with her mother, talking away in her cheerful manner. Madeleine stared at Bettina in surprise when she saw her, but Jossel immediately rose to her feet and met Bettina before she reached the table.

  "Oh, my love, are you all right?" Jossel asked as she embraced Bettina. "He said he would not harm you, but he would not allow me to see you."

  "I am fine—now," Bettina replied and led her moth­er back to the table.

  "Does—does Tristan know that you have left his room? He would be—"

  "He knows, Mama," Bettina interrupted. "I struck a bargain with Tristan last night. I gave my word that I would stay here for one year. Counting the time I have already spent with him, it will actually be less than eleven months."

  "You agreed to this?"

  "I had no choice. He set the amount of time, and I had to give my word that I would not escape in order to leave that room. I could not stand being locked up any longer."

  "It was a foolish thing you did, escaping again," Madeleine scolded. "Tristan was like a madman when he told me you'd hailed a ship and were gone. I was worried sick over you."

  "I'm sorry, Maddy. But I was coming back for you. I wouldn't have left if I didn't think you would be rescued."

  "Oh, I was all right, pet," Madeleine returned. "In fact, I have grown to like it here. I no longer have kitchen duties, but I still supervise those two young girls who serve here whenever Tristan is home."

  "Who are those girls?" Bettina asked curiously.

  "Aleia and Kaino," Madeleine answered. "Their older sister, Maloma, is married to Jules."

  "Married? Yes, I did hear Tristan say Jules had a wife here."

  "A wife and three children by her. Cute little tykes, they are—all girls."

  "And does Tristan have a wife and children here, too?" Bettina asked sarcastically.

  Madeleine and Jossel exchanged curious glances, and Madeleine said, "Tristan has never taken seriously any of the village women. He visits the whores there occa­sionally, but that is all. Many of his crew have married village girls, though, and they have built their own huts on previous visits here. The rest of the crew stays in the village."

  "Is there a priest, then, who performed these mar­riages?" Bettina ventured. "I would like to go to con­fession."

  "No, the couples went to the village chief for his blessing, that is all. But I think I have convinced Jules to bring a priest here to give these marriages God's blessing."

  "Why do you concern yourself, Maddy?" Bettina asked.

  "Tristan's men married these native girls honorably; they do not intend to desert them. I only feel they should be married properly."

  "It is Jules you are thinking of. Honestly, Maddy, you are impossible. Must you mother everyone? Jules does not deserve your concern."

  "I have come to know him also, Bettina," Jossel said. "I find it hard to believe he is the same man who nearly whipped you to death."

  "He is the same man, and he would still like to see me whipped. If I harmed Tristan, Jules would be the first to bare my back."

  "She is right, Jossel," Madeleine said reluctantly. "You were not there the day she nearly killed the capitaine. Jules, he can be like a wild demon, but only where Tristan is concerned. He protects the capitaine as a mother protects her child."

  Jossel frowned and looked at Bettina sadly. "I fear I have not protected you as I should have, ma chirie."

  "Oh, no, Mama, you must not blame yourself. There is nothing you can do for me without endangering your own life. I will manage—it will only be for one year."

  "You sound as if you have given up, Bettina. It will not be a year. The Comte de Lambert has the map you gave him. He will rescue us," Jossel said.

  Bettina sighed and told her mother of the conversa­tion she had overheard between Pierre and Don Miguel. "So it will be a year unless Tristan decides to let me go sooner," Bettina finished.

  "Does Tristan know that you no longer intend to marry the comte?" Jossel asked softly.

  "No, and you must both promise not to tell him or anyone about it," Bettina replied, and waited for her mother and Madeleine to nod in agreement.

  "But if he knew, perhaps he would marry you," Jos­sel returned.

  "Mama, my feelings for Tristan have not changed since I last spoke to you about him. I still hate him, and I would never, never marry him. And he has also said he wil
l not marry me. He will not change his mind."

  "But a year is a long time, Bettina. If you should bear Tristan a child, then he would surely—"

  "No! Do not even think it!" Bettina cried. "It will not happen!"

  "Calm yourself, my love. Of course it will not hap­pen. I did not mean to upset you," Jossel said quickly, wishing she were as sure as Bettina was.

  "I'm sorry I shouted, Mama. I have been doing that a lot lately," Bettina said with a faint smile.

  "And with good reason, I imagine."

  "Very good reason." Bettina laughed softly.

  "If only Ryan had come back, our lives could have been so different," Jossel said wistfully.

  "Ryan? Who is this Ryan?" Madeleine asked.

  JossePs face turned slightly pink. "Bring Bettina some of that hot bread Aleia baked, please, Maddy, and some milk."

  "You never told Maddy about Ryan?" Bettina asked after the old woman had left.

  "No, but I think she suspected there was someone in my life all those years ago. She knew how happy I was for a while. But it would serve no purpose to tell her now."

  "I suppose you are right. But I have not asked how you have fared, Mama. Have any of the men—ah— bothered you?"

  "Heavens, no," Jossel laughed. "What would these men want with an old woman like me?"

  "Mama, this is no matter to take lightly. You are not an old woman, which you know very well, and you are beautiful," Bettina scolded.

  "Do not worry about me, Bettina. Your capitaine has taken very good care of me."

  "He has!" Bettina exclaimed. "But he would tell me nothing, not even if you had a roof to sleep under."

  "He does not strike me as such a bad man, though he forces you to sleep with him, and on this I have been reminded not to interfere. But he has given me his protection. I heard him give the order that I was to be left alone and respected."

  "Honorable actions do not fit his mold," Bettina said sarcastically.

  "Tristan has been more than generous to me," Jossel replied. "He gave me the room next to Madeleine's. And he has supplied me with plenty of material for dresses, and it is such expensive cloth. He also found me a pair of shoes when he saw that mine were left be­hind."