Pirate's Intent Page 4

  “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 Four

  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 information 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 waistcoat 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 a 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 closel
y 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.

  “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 Five

  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.

  Her heavy swallow and wide eyes told him she was indeed chaste. Something that appealed to him far more than he expected. He was relieved she had not been touched by another man when she should have always been his.

  Might still be.

  Would she give herself over to him? Spread her sweet thighs as he had long imagined? Cry out his name in the heat of passion?

  He scowled and tied his hair back, trying to push aside the unwelcome thoughts. He did not want to care about her again. Should not. But from the moment he’d heard she was in trouble, his bloody heart had taken the reins. Now here he was counting down the seconds until she was in his bed, not because he intended to lie with her but simply because she would be close.

  When he stood, she stood, wringing her hands nervously. Shockingly enough, she glanced from the bed to him and did the absolute last thing he saw coming. She turned and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Sleeping in this dress would be very uncomfortable. Would you untie me?”

  How had she gone from thinking he would sleep on the floor to this?

  While the man he once was would have asked her if she were sure, the man he was now was far less foolish. He did as she asked, taking his time unlacing her dress, and stays when he could have done it far faster. He wished she had not moved aside her hair. That he might have done it for her if only to touch it again and feel its silkiness. How often had he thought of touching it again over the years?

  Too many times to count.

  She tensed when he stood a little closer than necessary, but did not move away. He inhaled deeply, pulling in her flowery scent, amazed she still smelled so good considering the day she’d had. As always, everything about her drew him. From her slight figure to her soft skin. From the way she held her shoulders, one a mere smidge more forward than the other as though she were half in this world and half curled over a book lost in one of her stories again.

  He guaranteed no one but him noticed either. But then no one knew how often her imagination truly got away with her. To the point on one occasion, that she lost all good sense.

  Or, as he reflected years later, might have made more sense than he realized.

  “We could do it,” she had argued, determination in her eyes that summer morning when they were fourteen. “There are plenty of opportunities in other colonies.” She nodded. “Plymouth is prospering. We could go there and start anew in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.” Her eyes met his, hopeful. “You and I, Hannah, and even Luke could do well there. We could start a new life.”

  He knew her overly strict uncle thought nothing of bringing a switch to her and Hannah so understood her desire to flee. Regardless, she needed to understand how foolish her proposal was. “This is not a story in one of your books, Rose.” He shook his head. “Life in the north is not easy. Winters are hard, summers are fleeting.”

  “But there is plenty of work,” she countered. “Commerce is flourishing. You could boat-build, or take to fishing or whaling. Or perhaps try your hand at timber and fur trading.” She fanned her face in the oppressive August heat. “And a fleeting summer would not be such a bad thing.” Fresh hope lit her eyes. “The four of us could marry, just pretend, of course, sail to Plymouth and start a new life.”

  “Pretend to marry?” he had replied, amused. “Me and you then?”

  “Yes.” She blushed and didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Why not?”

  “I do not know.” He shrugged. “It seems so...”

  “So what?” She looked at him curiously. “Do you not want to marry me? For pretend...of course.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, peering at her out of the corner of his eye. “I suppose.”

  Her brows flew up. “You suppose?”

  “I just mean,” he began feeling all turned around, mostly because he realized the idea very much appealed to him. Not a fake marriage, though, and certainly not so they could better establish themselves elsewhere.

  “What I mean,” he continued, setting things straight, “is that you are letting your imagination get away with you, Rose.”

  Now, standing here on this ship, looking back on the years, he wondered where they might have been had he allowed her imagination to flourish. Because he knew full well, their marriage would not have been a sham. Would they have made it safely to Plymouth and started a new life? But then what would have happened to her when he went off to fight? Because he would have, whether drafted or not.

  So, in the end, things went as they went.

  How he often wished they had gone differently, though.

  “Come, let’s rest.” He stepped away before he gave into temptation and pulled her close.

  He tried to keep his eyes off her, but it was damn near impossible when she removed her
dress and petticoat. He was no stranger to women, and typically able to control himself, but then they weren’t this woman.

  They weren’t Rose.

  The outline of her slender body through her shift was clear enough in the candlelight, her curves slight but very much there. Her breasts were on the small side but perky and tempting. How often had he imagined testing their weight in his palm? Spreading her soft thighs and exploring all that had been lost to him for so long?

  He nearly groaned, his cock hard and ready for her.

  Blast it, her bloody shift was too thin.

  He frowned and considered the garment. It was clear her uncle had been neglecting his nieces because her shift was near threadbare, the material far too worn for a woman of her station. When was the last time new clothing was made for her? He glanced at the faded dress she had removed. He had thought it a dress meant for traveling so of little consequence but now wondered.

  Not for the first time, he wished he could strangle her uncle. But it seemed fate had taken care of that for him. Oh, but to have run his blade through the man, though. Her parents had died young, and the girls became more of an obligation to their uncle than anything. He was convinced the man only took them in for the sake of appearances. Sadly, it had been a horrid fate. They became as much a whipping board for him as his slaves.

  Something Thomas and Luke could do little about.

  Not only were they mere lads at the time but sons of the governor, an overly strict man who considered the sisters’ uncle an ally. Between the two, they held considerable power at the time, and scandal would not do. Moreover, how they treated their wards was very much their own business. So except for Thomas and Luke, a blind eye had been turned, and the girls got the switch far too often.

  Hannah more than Rose, protecting her little sister when she could.

  Leaving the girls to go to war had been particularly difficult because he and Luke knew what they were leaving them with. Yet their country needed them, and their father would have it no other way. They would fight the bloody French come hell or high water.