Capturing the Pirate's Heart (The Emerald Quest Book 1) (6 page)

Were it not for the fact that the woman in his arms was
unconscious, Sébastien would have found the soft curves of her body appealing.
The stiff black fabric of her mourning gown had hidden the shapely curves which
had pressed against him as she’d slid down the front of his body and he’d
caught her just before she’d hit the luxurious wool carpet which covered the
hard wood of his cabin floor. Now, he reached down and placing one arm below
her knees and another beneath her shoulders, he lifted the young woman. A
glorious swathe of auburn curls hung over his forearm as he walked across to
his bed. He laid her down, letting her slippers drop to the floor with a soft
thud.

What the name of God was he to
do now?
Sébastien stifled a groan of frustration as he pondered his predicament.

He had an unmarried woman in his
cabin. An unmarried woman from a wealthy family. A young woman who was believed
to have drowned had somehow got onto his boat. He had a little more than a week
to intercept the
Ann Marie
, and that would be his last chance to earn
enough to escape this life which he hated more with each passing day. If he
turned back to the coast and went back up the Mississippi River to return her
to her uncle, there would be no chance of intercepting the slave trader. As it
was, they must go via Barataria Bay to reprovision the boat with food and water
for the crew. For a brief moment he considered putting her off there in the
care of his half-brother, but quickly dismissed that thought. Even if Jean-Luc
was at the outpost, he wouldn’t trust him to keep his hands off this young
woman, and that was also giving no consideration to the wild behavior he had
witnessed in the isolated outpost of the colonies. It was no place for a
gentlewoman of class.

A very beautiful young woman
. One, by all accounts, who was
presumed to have drowned in the river. If her uncle’s violent reaction to the
cabin boy was any indication of his usual temperament, Sébastien could
understand why she might have been trying to escape him.

So, as well as having a
beautiful woman on board a vessel which he could not turn back, he did not have
the luxury of time to divert from the planned route. On top of that, he had to
consider her safety among a lusty crew who had barely seen a woman for months.
Three new crewmen, plus young Jake, were on board the
Maiden
for this
voyage. He knew he could trust his usual crew to show her due respect, but the
new crewmen who they had picked up at Barataria Bay were unknown to him. He’d sensed
a sly demeanor and a look of rat cunning about one of the new men as they’d
sailed up the river. And the first mate had told him that it had been Dirk, who
had been overseeing the rigging that had fouled.

Untrustworthy and slack.

If he’d had the time before
their hurried departure he would probably have put him off the vessel.
Sébastien’s instincts when it came to a trustworthy man—or woman—had never let
him down in all his years at sea.

He groaned. There were also the
African slaves to consider. He could not let a gentlewoman wander at will on
his vessel.

He dropped to the bed and leaned
forward with his head in his hands. Taking over a slave trader’s vessel would
be fraught with danger and his ship was no place to have a woman.

Unbidden, Lisette’s face filled
his mind, and he tried to push it away. He needed no more pressure on his
decision making. If she had heeded her father’s wishes and not followed him to
the quay on San Domingo, she would still be alive. Perhaps they had been too
young, and that had contributed to the poor decisions he had made, but
nevertheless, she was gone.

And I will not have the death of
another young woman on my conscience.
Another young woman who has been spoiled
and is used to getting her own way. It was clear she had given no thought to
leaving her uncle and the mortal danger which could await her in a town such as
New Orleans.

“Are you all right, Captain?” A
tentative hand brushed against his forearm and was pulled back quickly as he
turned his head toward her.

He stared at her. This young
woman had fainted. She was lying on the bed of a man who she believed to be a
cutthroat pirate—he’d heard the stories—and the said pirate was sitting beside
her in a state of undress.

And she asks me in that soft
gentle voice if I am all right?

Sebastian pushed himself to his
feet and pulled on his shirt. He turned to her. She lay on his bed and a little
color had returned to her cheeks. A dark green gaze held his and her eyes were
wide. She opened her lips and a shaft of desire shot straight to his groin when
the tip of her tongue came out and touched on her bottom lip.

“Are you thirsty?” He knew his
voice was gruff because he was angry at the reaction of his body to this
helpless female.

But perhaps not so helpless. Is
she manipulating me?

She shook her head and tried to
sit up but fell back onto the pillow with her hand to her head. “The room is
moving.”

“Yes.” He stared at her. “The
cabin is moving but I suspect it has more to do with us being in the ocean
swell, rather than the faint you had. And I expect it will get worse as the day
progresses. The wind is rising.

“Can you…can you…?

Before she finished she pushed
herself up on her hands and slid back to the feather pillows, and leaned back
against the headboard of the bed. “Can you please take me back to New Orleans?”
Her voice strengthened as she held his gaze. “I will make it worth your while.”

Sébastien quirked an eyebrow.
“And how will you do that, Madame? From what I see, you have the clothes you
are wearing and a pair of slippers. Unless you have a bag of gold secreted in
the alcove over there?”

“If you will turn your boat
around and take me back, I shall be able to pay you when I…when I… in a few
days.” She set her chin straight and crossed her arms across the front of that
hideous black dress.

“Why are you in mourning?” He
ignored her request and the rather strange statement of being able to repay him
in a few days. Perhaps she intended to sell her body in the taverns of New
Orleans?

Over my dead body.
Innocent eyes held his, and he
was interested to hear what a young woman of breeding, in a mourning dress, was
doing in a place as dangerous as New Orleans.

He stared down at her, keeping
his face free from expression. “Shall we start at the beginning?”

Her pure beauty struck him
afresh as she gazed back at him. Her perfect small white teeth worried at her
lower lip and her emerald-green eyes were wide. Her heart-shaped face was
surrounded by waves of auburn hair which rippled down her shoulders, falling
almost to her waist. But her expression was steadfast and full of
determination, and she held his eye unwaveringly. This young woman appeared to
have a will of steel and he wondered what she was doing here.

I do not want her to be here.

She took a deep breath. “I
cannot tell you everything because I do not know you well enough.”

And she cannot trust me.
Sébastien heard the unspoken
intimation. She dropped her gaze for a moment before lifting her head and
holding his eyes with hers again. “By all accounts, you sir, are a pirate and
it would not be wise to tell you of my financial situation. It may put me at
risk and I may not live to finish my quest.”

Her quest?
A strange term for a young
woman to use. Sébastien dropped onto the bed and braced himself with his palms
flat on the coverlet on either side of her. “So Madame, may I assume you have
been in the less savory establishments of New Orleans? Where else would you
hear such scurrilous gossip about me?”

The girl straightened and the
bodice of her black dress strained over her high breasts. He dropped his gaze.
For a young woman, she was well endowed but still she seemed unaware of her
sensuality.

“Nay, sir. I have not set foot
in establishments of any sort.” The color ran into her cheeks and he realized
he was still staring at her chest, and that she was well aware of the direction
of his gaze.

Sébastien cleared his throat and
looked away to the wall above her head. He feigned a yawn to show his
disinterest in her physical attributes. “Then perhaps you could begin by
telling me your name and why you felt the need to hide yourself in my cabin. It
appears to have been a matter of some urgency?”

She folded her arms and he
avoided looking down at her breasts. “I was not hiding in your cabin. I was
running away from my Uncle Titus.”

“Why? Was he cruel to you?”
Or
God forbid, worse than that
.

She shook her head. “No. Not by
his hand, but I do not agree with his actions over the past six months, so you
could perhaps call that cruelty.”

Sébastien stood and walked to
the side of the cabin to lean on the side of the hull, his hands laced behind
his back and his head bowed. Her words echoed those of Lisette ten years ago.

Lisette had bowed her pretty
blond head while she had told him of the cruelty of her father in not bowing to
her will when he refused to approve their marriage. He would not let her have
her own way and she too had rebelled. But her father had been right and if they
had not been so young and foolish, they would have heeded his words, and
Lisette would still be alive.

Perhaps they may have married,
perhaps not.
They had been far too young to make a decision about their future. Lisette had
been naïve, and he had been a cocky and randy young man. A pretty face and a
soft body had tempted him and she had died because of him.

Sébastien didn’t think of
Lisette often now and that realization brought a rush of fresh guilt to his
chest. He had loved her in his own way, but it had been an immature love which
would surely have blown itself out like a storm at sea. He now had the opportunity
to assuage that guilt. This young woman, who looked across at him, her eyes
beseeching him, would be kept safe from harm by the lessons Sébastien had
learned in the past.

“So, Madame, can you at least
tell me your name?”

“I am Madeleine Bellerose of Bellerose
Hall in Derbyshire in England.”

Yes, wealthy and spoiled, just
like Lisette.

“And why are you are travelling
with your uncle on a ramshackle old British frigate?”

Madeleine relaxed her shoulders
and let out a soft sigh. “My uncle is a member of some anti-slavery or
missionary society, or some such, and we are travelling to the West Indies. We
had free passage because he took the position of chaplain on the frigate.”

“Yet, I am none the wiser as to
why
you
are with him?” Sébastien’s resolve was firming. Even if he had
witnessed her uncle beating the young cabin boy, it was understandable. This
young woman had been in the man’s care and he thought he had lost her.
Sébastien could fully understand, and sympathized with the man’s predicament.

“My family was killed in a
carriage accident. My father, my mother, and my only brother are gone. Uncle
Titus took over the family estate and dismissed the staff and made me accompany
him to the West Indies.”

“I cannot see what is wrong with
that and why you felt you must escape. Surely someone must take care of you?”

Madeleine slipped her bare feet
over the side of the bed and stood straight, her hands placed on her hips, as
if to emphasize her words. “Why? I am quite capable of taking care of myself
and running the family estate. You think because I am a woman, I cannot do
that?” Twin spots of color rose on her cheeks and her voice rose higher. “And
he has had the temerity to organize a marriage for me! I had to escape.” She
sniffed and wiped the back of her hand over her nose and Sébastien smothered a
grin. A mannerism he would not have expected from a lady, more from a young
child. Sympathy tugged at him and he pushed it away. Her presence on his vessel
was problematic for him and he would not be taken in by her feminine wiles.

“If Uncle Titus wanted to travel
to some godforsaken part of the world and minister to heathens and save slaves,
he did not have to drag me along. I am more than capable of looking after
myself.”

Sébastien’s interest was piqued.
Save slaves?

He wondered where they had been
heading and whether they were aware of the dangers of such a pastime. It was
time to teach this young woman that she was too young to know it all…and she
was a woman, which to his way of thinking automatically rendered her less
capable than a man in most pursuits.

Casually, he sauntered over to
her and stood so close that she had to tip her head back to see his face. As
she had told him, she believed she was capable and she showed him no fear as
she held his gaze steadily. However on closer scrutiny, the color in her cheeks
deepened and her bottom lip quivered slightly as she waited for him to speak.

“
Hmm
.” Sébastien reached
out to her and clasped his hands together around her tiny waist. Perhaps she
was laced into that dress; maybe that had contributed to her faint?