A Pirate's Love

by Johanna Lindsey

  Bettina avoided her mother's gaze. She stared sadly at the little dress in her hands. "It is too late to make matters right. I have thought about it often. Even if I told him everything, he would not believe me. He would think I was lying just to pacify him. He would always doubt me even if I gave him my word."

  "You don't hate Tristan anymore, do you?" Jossel asked softly.

  "Oh, Mama, I just don't know. The desire I have for him confuses me. Sometimes I want him as much as he wants me. And yet at other times I still hate him. He is so arrogant, so infuriating, and I can never forget what he has done to me."

  "He took you against your will, but now you admit you want him also."

  "But that is not the point!"

  "No? Then take my advice, my love, and consider what is the point. The year he asked for soon comes to an end." With that, Jossel walked out of the room, leaving Bettina staring blankly at the floor.

  Bettina spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon debating with herself. She even forgot to go downstairs for lunch. But she finally de­cided that she had nothing to lose by confessing every­thing to Tristan, and much to gain. She missed his lazy smile and the buoyant laugh that lit up his eyes. She missed his winsome charm, and especially his tender­ness.

  She wanted the old Tristan back. Now, she felt happy that she was going to bear his child, and, strangely enough, she wanted him to share her happiness. She didn't know why it was suddenly so important to her to have Tristan the way he used to be. But with a firm feeling that she could make him believe her, Bettina left the room she shared with Tristan to find him and make things right between them.

  She ran down the stairs, and, seeing no one in the hall, she looked out the back door.

  Tristan heard Bettina come down the stairs from where he lay on the sofa by the fireplace. He sat up and saw her walk toward the back door. He started to fol­low her, but was halted by a commotion in the front yard.

  Bettina also heard the noise from the front of the house, but before she could go to investigate, she saw a rowdy bunch of men running across the backyard to­ward the village. She frowned, for the men were strangers. Then she heard a low-pitched female voice in the big hall.

  "Tristan, you handsome seadog, I hardly recognized you! So you finally shaved your beard. I like it—I always knew I would."

  "It's been a long time, Gabby," Tristan said affec­tionately.

  Bettina turned, confused, and saw a woman with un­ruly bright copper curls falling halfway down her back. She was dressed like a man, but her breeches were cut well above her knees, shamefully displaying long, shape­ly legs. She even sported a sword hanging from a leather baldric, and a long, coiled whip hung from her other hip. She stood proudly in the middle of the room, facing Tristan.

  "Sweet Jesus! I can't believe what you've done to this old house. If I didn't know better, I'd think it had felt a woman's touch," the redheaded woman said. "You bastard! You haven't brought that widow here, have you? Damn you, if she's finally talked you into marry­ing her, I'll—"

  "That's enough, Gabby." Tristan cut her off, seeing Bettina standing in the back doorway. "Margaret isn't here, nor has she ever been."

  "Good. That's her loss and my gain," Gabby laughed. "I've been looking forward to spending some time alone with you here. I'm going to shut us up in that cozy bedroom of yours for days, and to hell with my crew!"

  "You haven't changed," Tristan laughed. "You're as immoral as ever."

  "You wouldn't have it any other way, would you, love? Now give me a proper greeting before I begin to think you've spent yourself on those village whores."

  A knot twisted in Bettina's stomach, and she knew it wasn't her child kicking. The copper-haired woman threw her arms around Tristan's neck and pulled his lips down to hers. She kissed him passionately, and— damn his black heart—he was enjoying it, returning her kiss wholeheartedly.

  When someone touched her arm, Bettina gasped and turned to see a rough-looking man with a shining bald head. He wore no shoes, and only a narrow vest par­tially covered his bare chest. Bettina instantly recog­nized the expression in his dark eyes.

  "I knew I'd have a long wait in the village, so I come here for a bite o' food, an' look what I find in­stead." He spoke more to himself than to Bettina as his eyes covered her body. "Are there more like you around, or will I have to be sharin' you wit' me ship­mates?"

  Bettina wondered if Tristan would bother to rescue her this time, or would he be too busy in the other room? She decided to try reason.

  "Monsieur, I am pregnant! Surely you can see this?"

  He drew her to him, a lecherous smile on his lips. "What I see is that you're a damn sight better than what I'd find in the village. It's been too long since I've had me a white woman."

  "Leave me alone, monsieur, or I will scream!" Bet­tina said quickly, her voice rising to a high pitch.

  "Now, you wouldn't want to go an' do that, or you might disturb me cap'n. She's all for watchin' a bit o' sport, but I'm thinkin' she's havin' her own by now."

  Bettina shook off the man's hand and started back­ing away, but as the man slowly pursued her, Tristan happened to see him. The man lunged for Bettina and grabbed one arm to jerk her to him again. She cried out in a shrill voice, but Tristan was already there. He pulled the man away from Bettina, then stepped in front of her, blocking her view with his towering frame.

  The red-headed woman had followed Tristan, her face a mask of fury. But before she could say anything, Tristan's huge fist had connected with the man's face, sending him sprawling to the floor and breaking his nose with the single blow. As the man brought his hand to his nose, blood poured through his fingers and down onto his bare chest. His eyes were rilled with terror as he stared at Tristan.

  "Damn you, Tristan!" the woman Gabby stormed. "You had no call to lay my man low! Have you gone—"

  She stopped short when Bettina stepped from behind Tristan. The big room was filled with an ominous si­lence as the two women stared at each other for the first time, Bettina's turbulent green eyes meeting the steel-gray eyes of the other woman.

  "Who is she?" Gabby demanded.

  Tristan smiled and said, "The lady's name is Bettina."

  Gabby became furious. "Blast it! I don't give a damn what her name is! What is she doing here? And if my man wanted to have her, why did you stop him?"

  Tristan's eyes narrowed. "This could have been avoided, Gabby, if you had given me a chance to speak earlier. But now I'll tell your man instead." He turned to the man, and his eyes were like glistening ice. "Since your face wears the proof of my words, the message will carry more weight coming from you. Bettina is not the only white woman on the island. There are two others —her mother and her old servant—and none of them is to be touched. But this one especially is in my care," he said, motioning to Bettina. "I will kill anyone who comes near her! Carry my warning to all your ship­mates, and you damn well better make sure they heed what you say!"

  The man scrambled to his feet and out the back door as quickly as he could.

  "What do you mean she is in your care?" Gabby ex­ploded, her body stiff with rage.

  Bettina spoke before Tristan could answer, a half-smile on her soft lips. "Tristan was being kind in his choice of words, mademoiselle. He should have said I am his property."

  "He married you?" Gabby asked in astonishment

  "No."

  "So you are a slave, then!" Gabby laughed heartily. "I should have known."

  "A slave with few duties, mademoiselle," Bettina smiled. "In fact, I serve Tristan only in bed."

  Bettina walked out of the room without looking back to see Tristan's amused expression. She had gained very little by what she told that woman, except that Gabby was now furious at Tristan. But how long would that last? How long before Tristan was kissing her again?

  Gabby was beautiful, and she had a stunning shape. Now that Bettina had lost her own slim figure, would Tristan turn to Gabby to satisfy his needs? Bettina
had told him too many times to find another. Would he take her advice now? Would he tell her to leave his room so he could share it with that copper-haired woman? And why did this thought hurt like a knife piercing her heart?

  Bettina turned left at the top of the stairs instead of going to her own room. She stopped for a moment to stare absently out the window at the little jungle of greenery of the fiat surface of the roof. Summer flowers bloomed there now, different shapes and sizes on a canvas of green.

  She wondered why Thomas had failed to bring her fruit today, or, for that matter, why the house had been so empty when she had gone downstairs earlier? At least one of the two native servant girls could usually be found cooking, and members of Tristan's crew usually relaxed at the big dining table. Where was everyone?

  A fear surfaced in Bettina that her mother might not be in the house, either. She hurried the few steps to Jossel's room and opened the door quickly, but she was relieved to find her mother looking out the window.

  "At least you are here," Bettina sighed.

  Jossel turned from the window, a worried frown on her forehead. "I saw some men running toward the vil­lage."

  "Yes, I saw them, too. It seems we have visitors," Bettina said dryly as she moved to the chair beside her mother. "But where is everyone? When I went down­stairs a while ago, I found the house empty."

  "That was Tristan's doing," Jossel replied a bit irri­tably. "When I came down from your room this morn­ing, after we talked, he asked me and everyone else to leave the house."

  "Why would he do that?"

  "He said he wanted to be alone, but he was acting very strangely. He did not order us to leave, but asked us politely. I could not decide what caused the change in him," Jossel said. "But anyway, the servants went to the village with Maloma to visit their parents, and Jules took Madeleine to show her the house he is building. I did not feel like going out, so I came to my room instead. When I saw those men, I was afraid to go downstairs, for fear I would provoke Tristan's anger."

  "You probably would have, for you would have dis­turbed him in an embrace," Bettina replied.

  "Then you told him the truth? Everything will be all right now?"

  "No, Mama. It was not me he was embracing, but the female capitaine of those men you saw."

  "A woman commands those rough-looking sea­men?" Jossel asked, her green eyes widening.

  "Yes, and she is very beautiful. I heard her talking to Tristan. He has known her a long time, it seems, and they were lovers before. She came here just to be with him," Bettina said sadly.

  "Even if what you say is true, you forget that it is you Tristan wants," Jossel reminded her.

  "Not anymore. I saw him kissing her, Mama. He was enjoying it. And look at me. Do you think he would choose this round body of mine to sleep next to him, when he can have her slender one instead?"

  "Are you just going to give up? You admitted you want him. So fight for him!"

  "I have nothing to fight with."

  "You carry his child! Tell him the truth."

  "I was going to, but it is too late now that she is here. He will be sure to think I am lying—he will think I am jealous of her."

  "Are you?" Jossel ventured softly. "Are you jealous of this woman?"

  "Perhaps. I hated it when I saw him kiss her. I felt sick inside. But it is only because I have had Tristan to myself for so long."

  "Is that the only reason?"

  "Oh, stop it, Mama. I do not love him, if that is what you are trying to make me admit. There are many kinds of jealousy—not just that of love."

  "What do you intend to do?"

  "I know Tristan is going to tell me to leave his room tonight so he can share it with her. I would like to stay here with you, Mama."

  "Of course you can stay with me. You need not have asked," Jossel replied. "But I think you are wrong."

  "No, I'm not wrong, Mama. You have not seen this woman yet. Tristan could not resist her even if he wanted to. I will come here right after dinner. I will not give him a chance to ask me to leave his room."

  Bettina was dejected, but she hadn't wholly resigned herself to giving up Tristan. She kept hearing her mother's words: You want him, so fight for him. But she had so little to fight with. All she could do was take special care with her hair and dress, and this she did in the time left to her before the evening meal.

  She chose a dress of white-and-gold brocade that she had recently completed. It was a special dress she had made for the wedding celebration, but she had been un­able to finish it in time, and so had not worn it yet. The square neck of the dress was extremely low and re­vealed her swelling breasts. The sleeves were long and full, gathered at the wrists, and the long slash was held by four gold bows, the openings revealing her bare arms. To accommodate her growing shape, Bettina had made the dress without a waist, gathering the material just below her breasts with gold ribbons.

  Madeleine returned and helped Bettina with her hair, all the while giving her outspoken opinion of the woman sea captain. Maddy, like Jossel, thought Bettina had nothing to worry about, but Bettina couldn't forget the fact that Gabby was at that moment downstairs with Tristan.

  With her hair braided and wrapped about her head with interlaced gold ribbons forming a net of gold and white, Bettina was ready to face what lay ahead. She was pleased to see that when she stood erect, her large shape was hidden by the many folds of the waistless dress.

  When Madeleine opened the bedroom door, they heard boisterous laughter coming from below. Bettina distinctly recognized Tristan's booming laugh, and felt a pain shoot through her heart. She sent Madeleine ahead of her, for she needed a few more minutes to collect her poise and clear her mind of worry. With this done, she left her room quickly, before she lost courage again.

  When Bettina descended the stairs, she was surprised to find the long table filled with members of Gabby's crew. Those who faced her stared in wonder, causing the men on the opposite side of the table to turn also, for Bettina was like a shining light coming out of the darkness. Tristan couldn't take his eyes from her, either, but Bettina met his gaze only for a moment; then she looked at Gabby. The woman had taken Jules's cus­tomary seat next to Tristan, and she was leaning ex­ceedingly close to him.

  Gabby had not changed or bathed, probably refusing to leave Tristan even for a minute. But it was unneces­sary, for the woman demanded attention with her beauty, and she was quite angry at the moment because all attention was directed at Bettina.

  The big room was unnervingly silent as so many eyes followed Bettina to her seat directly opposite Gabby. Bettina could see the fire in Gabby's gray eyes as the two women continued to appraise each other. Tristan sat back and observed both women. One corner of his mouth lifted in an amused grin.

  "You failed to introduce me to your friend, Tristan," Bettina said quietly, breaking the silence.

  Tristan looked into Bettina's startling green eyes and cleared his throat a bit nervously.

  But Gabby said coldly, "I am Gabrielle Drayton, captain of the Red Dragon. Tristan told me how he acquired you, Bettina. But he would not tell me your full name—which is?"

  "I told you earlier that I have reason for withholding that information, Gabby," Tristan said coldly. "At my request, you will let the matter be."

  Bettina looked at Tristan quizzically; she remembered that he had also refrained from telling Captain O'Casey her full name when he had introduced them. The name Verlaine was nothing to be ashamed of, but then Bettina looked at her mother and smiled, for in truth, she had no right to the name. And since she was illegitimate, she had no right to the name Ryan, either.

  Gabby stiffened when she saw Bettina smile at an older woman, obviously her mother. So the wench was proud to hear Tristan come to her aid. She was assured of his protection, but Gabby would see how long this would last.

  "I was not aware that slaves are dressed so regally these days, or that they are now allowed to eat at the same table as their betters," Gabby remarked. "H
ave class distinctions changed, Tristan, or is it just Bettina who is so honored?"

  Jules choked, and Jossel rose angrily to her feet to protest, but Bettina answered quickly, a sweet smile on her lips.

  "Tristan is a kind master. He—"

  "Do you always answer for Tristan?" Gabby inter­rupted, her voice full of venom.

  "That's enough!" Tristan growled, the muscles in his cheeks twitching dangerously. "I told you clearly what the situation was, Gabby, so stop this pretense and let her be!"

  "You told me many interesting things, including the fact that the child she carries is not yours." Gabby laughed shortly. "Who is the father, then? One of your men? Perhaps your good friend Jules here? Did he get to her first, Tristan?"

  "You go too far, woman!" Jules bellowed, slamming his huge fist down on the table. "I have never touched the lady—nor has any other man. Only that misguided jackass sitting at the head of the table has had that pleasure!" Tristan smiled at this, though no one noticed, for Jules held their attention as he continued angrily, "And you are mistaken in thinking Bettina a slave, for she is not. She is here only because she gave her word to stay. She will be leaving at the end of the year."

  "Really?" Gabby's laughter filled the room as she turned to Bettina. "Don't you like it here?"

  Gabby's laughter was like a drum beating inside Bettina's head. She glanced at Tristan and saw that he was staring down at his tankard, an amused expression on his face. She could feel tears welling in her eyes, and she rose quickly before they spilled forth. But as she ran up the stairs, Gabby's laughing seemed to grow louder. The tears streamed down Bettina's cheeks as she went to her room to collect her clothes, then ran to her mother's room.

  "I brought you something to eat, Bettina, since you did not touch your food tonight," Jossel said when she entered the room. You should not have let that woman upset you. She did it on purpose, you know."

  Bettina was curled up in the chair by the window, wearing only a pale yellow shift. "Is Tristan still with her?" she asked calmly as she took the plate of food from her mother.