Brazen Temptress (34 page)

She shook her head. It couldn't be true. All these years she'd clung to her mistaken beliefs, her anger, and now it was starting to dawn on her that she'd been wrong.

Terribly wrong.

"I was there. I saw the battle," she whispered. At least she thought she had. "How can what you say be true?"

The man shrugged and went back to his work. "Tell that to the men of this ship. When Julien came to us and asked us if we were willing to switch sides, everyone agreed. The Alliance offered us a better chance of growing rich than the paltry blood money the British had offered for your father's head."

She still couldn't fathom it. Julien hadn't betrayed her father; instead, he'd tried to save him. Just as he'd told her — aboard the
Destiny
and here in London.

Why had she been so willing to ignore the truth? Even now she tried to make sense of it. "But they came. The English. I saw a man row out to inform them."

"You saw a traitor," Roger spat. His brow furrowed, and then with a sucking sound and rush of fresh blood, he pulled out the lead ball. He held it up for all to see and sat back, letting the wound clean itself. "The one man who betrayed us. All of us. What Julien didn't know when he'd joined on was that he was actually a British officer, placed on the
Destiny
to ensure we completed our mission. He volunteered that night to take false information to the awaiting ships."

"And instead he told his superiors where we were."

"Aye." Roger reached for his needle and thread and began stitching up the wound. "They came in at dawn.

And you know what happened next." He knotted the thread and began closing the ragged flesh.

Aunt Pettigrew, ever the perfectionist when it came to needlework, leaned over his shoulder and then nodded with approval at the dark, even stitches.

"After the battle was over, they surrounded us." Roger clipped the thread and leaned back in his chair, studying his work with a practiced eye. "Threatened to blow the
Destiny
out of the water. We'd been able to cripple the frigates, but we were no match for the others. Julien struck our colors rather than allow any more bloodshed." The man paused. "I think if he'd known the hell we were in for, he might have tried to fight it out. We spent six months in a Jamaica prison for treason. Each one of us was branded so we'd never forget what we did. We escaped two days before we were to be transported to Botany Bay."

Roger took the basin and strode across the room. Tossing the contents out the window, he looked back at Maureen. "He'll probably be out for some time. Watch him for any signs of fever. I need to check on my other patients."

Then the brusque man left, leaving Maureen as shocked and stunned as if she'd just had a bullet plucked from her body. From her heart.

The others, obviously sensing her need to be alone with her husband after this revelation, followed the doctor out of the cabin. Charles, the last to leave, closed the door behind him.

She gazed down at the man she'd thought she knew and realized how wrong she had been. For all these years. Wrong about Julien, wrong about everything.

Her fingers reached out and traced the
T
on Julien's back.

The mark of a traitor.

She was the only traitor in the room, for not trusting him. For not believing him. For not following her vows, for believing with her eyes and not her heart.

She retraced her memories of that long-lost day and saw it as Roger had described it.

If only she'd stopped and let Julien explain. If only she'd had her mother's courage to see past the insurmountable evidence of a court-martial.

She laid her head down on his branded shoulder and wept.

Julien gauged it was early morning when he opened his eyes and saw light streaming in from the windows of his cabin. His shoulder ached, but given that he was undressed and in his own bed, he had a feeling the pain in his shoulder was just the remains of Roger's work.

The ship rolled softly, as if it were moored near shore. He wondered how long he'd been out and where they were.

The door slid open, and soft footsteps trod over the floor. He closed his eyes so it appeared he was still asleep. The person worked about the room, and when he peered between his shuttered lashes, he saw the unmistakable form of Maureen bent over one of his chests, pulling out maps and charts.

"So you didn't slit my throat last night."

She jumped and turned around. Her face looked as pale as if she'd seen a ghost. "Julien," she whispered.

The tenderness and love in her voice were tinged with something else. Something he couldn't quite discern.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"A harbor near Dover. I've used it a time or two for smuggling." She laughed, though again there was something in her voice that marred the humor. "I never thought I'd be smuggling into England three of its peers. They are just about to go ashore."

Relief swept through him. Webb, Giles, and Charles would be safe now. And though he wondered when he would ever be able to see his family again, at least he could rest easy knowing they were home.

"Your nephew is being a regular blood about going ashore." Maureen leaned closer. "He'd heard some of the men discussing the
Bodiel
and decided he wanted to try his hand at privateering. I've threatened to send him off in irons if he doesn't set a better example for Ethan." She smiled at the memory and then reached out to touch his face.

Her fingers stopped just short of his jaw, and in her hesitation he finally found his answer.

Regret.

Her eyes were filled with regret.

The gaze that had haunted him for so long, the color of which he'd seen only in the waters off the West Indies, now looked down at him with understanding that at first he didn't comprehend.

Then he realized. With his shirt gone she'd seen more than just his wound. "You know."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I saw the brand when Roger was tending you. He told me everything."

Julien turned away. "I didn't want you to find out.

Not until we'd come to an understanding. I wanted you to love me because you wanted to. Not because you felt you had to." He let out an exasperated breath and glanced back at her. "I know that sounds odd, but what I am trying to say is that I know you. You're an incredible woman, Reenie, but you are stubborn. I knew given time you'd love me again. At least I hoped you would. And if you could find it in your heart to love me again, I wanted you to come to that on your own. Then I knew you'd be willing to listen to the truth and forgive me for my mistakes."

She nodded. She wouldn't have believed him, trusted him. She'd been so set in her ways. But he'd tackled her hatreds, her misperceptions, in the only way he knew how.

A steady course through the turbulent seas of her heart.

He reached for her, and she came to him, her lips eagerly touching his. For a time they kissed and allowed the world around them to drift away. They murmured promises that they knew this time would last forever, and when it seemed they couldn't get enough of each other, the door to Julien's cabin swung open.

"Mother!" Ethan's shocked voice reverberated through the room.

Obviously, his son had never seen his mother kiss a man before. That pleased Julien more than he cared to admit.

"I came to say good-bye," Ethan said, this time shyly, as he crossed the room, his curious gaze flitting between his two parents as if he was still unconvinced about this notion of having both a mother
and
a father.

"You're going with your uncles?" Julien asked, sitting up abruptly, his gaze swinging to Maureen for confirmation. He wasn't about to let Ethan leave, not just yet. Not when he finally had the chance to get to know the lad.

But one glance at Maureen told him this was the only way.

"It's for the best," she said softly. "At least until the war is over. Until we can guarantee his safety with us."

"And where are you off to, son?" he asked Ethan.

"To Uncle Giles's house. And Aunt Pettigrew is coming as well," the boy said, climbing between his two parents. "Cousin Charles says he'll teach me to ride this summer and how to sail." He grinned at both parents. "You should come with me," he said hopefully.

Julien shook his head. "We can't. Not just yet. But we'll be with you soon. As soon as we can."

"Yes, very soon," Maureen told him. "We'll miss you every day." She turned her gaze to Julien. "It is for the best," she said, as if trying to convince herself. "Especially given that he will someday inherit so much more than I ever thought he would."

"Hawthorne Hall." Ethan grimaced. "What do I want with some old pile like that?"

"You'll want it for your wife," Julien told him.

At this Ethan looked horror-stricken. "A wife? I'm not going to ever get married. When I grow up I'm going to be a smuggler and a privateer."

Maureen laughed and ruffled his hair. "Oh, you might find something else you like better."

"Don't be so sure," Julien told her. "I made the same vow when I was about his age."

Charles appeared at the doorway. "Ethan, it's time."

Julien struggled to get up, and ignoring the irate looks Maureen sent him for rising from his sickbed without her permission, he caught up a shirt and tugged it on.

Above-deck the day had dawned bright. After one last hug and kiss from Ethan and strong, heartfelt handshakes from his brothers-in-law and nephew, he watched them row ashore. He reached out and took Maureen's hand, squeezing it gently.

"We'll have him back with us soon," he promised. "If I have to negotiate a peace treaty myself."

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. They stood on the deck and watched their son until he was safely to shore and bounding up the beachhead, his small hand tucked into that of his newfound cousin.

As soon as the longboat returned, Julien started issuing orders.

The wind was freshening, and down the coast was Portsmouth.

And the Halifax-bound
Bodiel.

"Do you think we still have time to catch her?" Maureen said, sidling up to him as he stood by the rail, looking out toward the open sea.

"We have to. I need that gold. I have a ship to buy. To replace my wife's."

Maureen laughed. "You don't owe me another ship. What do I need one for? I have no intention of ever setting foot on anything other than the
Destiny."
She looked up at him. "That is, if you'll have me?"

He gazed into those azure eyes and knew this time he wouldn't have to worry what the fates would bring them as he made his vows to her for a second time.

"Aye, Reenie. I'll have you. From this day forth ..."

The Kent Coast
1838

The dark shadows of the moonless night hid everything. Clouds masked even the stars. The wind had picked up in the last hour, bringing the waves crashing up on the small beach, muffling the sounds of the men working to off-load the kegs of brandy and the bales of tea from the longboats onto the waiting wagons.

'Twas a night made for smuggling.

"I didn't expect you so soon," Maureen said, wrapping her cashmere shawl tighter around her neck. She squinted into the night at the ship anchored in the private harbor of Hawthorne Hall. "She's a fine one, Ethan. Fleet and quick, just like you said she would be."

Her son beamed at her as he strode up the beach. A partner in D'Artiers Shipyard, Ethan was known for designing some of the most innovative and fastest ships in the world.

"I used some of the clipper lines from our American ships but added some of the old lines from the
Retribution."
He wiped at the chestnut lock falling over his forehead. "I think we set a Channel record. Too bad I can't tell Father."

Maureen nodded in agreement. "I don't think that would be wise. He might start asking questions, and if he found out ..."

They both knew what Julien D'Artiers would say if he found out his wife and son were involved in one of the areas richest smuggling operations.

He'd have both their heads.

It wasn't that Maureen liked hiding this fact from her husband, but ... well, Julien had become so respectable of late that he made it impossible for her to tell him the truth.

He had taken to life at Hawthorne Hall like a man born to the manor, a man who'd never set foot to sea. But for her the adjustment hadn't been as easy.

Even now, with Ethan and their three other children grown and married, Maureen could not shake the sea from her soul. Not that she'd meant to get back into the smuggling business, but once she'd done some digging into her family history, she learned it was a Hawthorne tradition.

And as the Baroness Hawthorne, she felt some traditions were worth continuing. Even if you had to keep them secret from your husband.

As for her son's involvement — that had been accidental. But once he'd discovered his mother's side business, he'd given her little choice but to let him help.

The stubborn determination he'd inherited from his D'Artiers relatives, coupled with his pirate Hawthorne blood, made him a natural smuggler.

"See the kegs to town," she ordered the men. "And the tea to the cellars. We'll send it out next week with the regular shipments." She tousled Ethan's hair, knowing how much he hated it.

But not tonight. He looked to be in far too good a mood at the success of his new ship. He only nodded and went back to work, helping the local men move the goods that added extra money to all their pockets.

Maureen turned and started up the beach, regretful that she couldn't stay and help.

There were times, like tonight, when she missed the life she and Julien had led after they'd rediscovered their love for each other. They'd sailed the
Destiny
out into the war-torn seas and taken prize after prize together.

Including the gold-laden
Bodiel.

Then the war had ended, and they'd been able to return to England to be with their son. No one in society seemed the wiser that the very handsome Julien D'Artiers and his beautiful wife, the former Miss Fenwick, were in actuality Captain de Ryes and his privateer bride.