Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (19 page)

“Tell me,” Lark asked, his gaze riveted on Lescale, “have you heard anything about a woman he took captive some months ago?”

“Your fiancée,” Lescale said bluntly, but his face softened for a moment. “I have heard about her, and the news isn’t good, monsieur. I’m not saying the rumors are all true, but—but how can I say this to you without hurting you?”

“Go on,” Lark urged and braced himself for the worst.

Lescale sighed. “I’ve heard that the lady is dead, monsieur. I’m sorry.”

A shudder passed through Lark. He’d worried about this very thing and the responsibility for Bettina’s death rested with him. If only he’d been able to defend her. He found himself offering his hand to Lescale. “Thank you for the information. If what you’ve told me turns out to be true, then I’ll gladly pay you the three hundred pounds I’ve promised.”

“I know you will, monsieur, for I trust you. But Silva is a slippery fellow and could be anywhere.”

Lark realized that very well. Since his offer had been made for information, he’d been contacted by a dozen men with news about Silva, and each man had seen him in a different location. But this was the first time anyone had mentioned that Bettina was dead.

When Lescale left the ship, Holcombe, who had been nearby and heard everything, turned to Lark. “Are you still going after Silva now?”

“Yes, I have to kill the bastard. I have to know the truth.”

“Well,” Holcombe observed not unkindly, “if what Lescale told you about Lady Bettina turns out to be true, then your—relationship—with Lady Marlee could take a different turn.”

Lark nodded but didn’t respond, because he’d thought the very same thing.

~ ~ ~

“Lark Arden’s offered three hundred pounds for news about Manuel Silva. I’d say that’s quite a handsome sum to catch a man like Silva. Wish I knew where the culprit was. I’d like that money myself.” A tall, distinguished gentleman had just read aloud to a similarly appearing companion the parchment tacked on the door of the local grog shop.

“Arden’s daft if you ask me,” the companion observed. “No one’s been able to capture Silva, though Arden has more reason than others to try.”

The two men moved leisurely down the mud-caked street which housed the taverns as well as the only lady’s dress shop in the area. Marlee, who’d been waiting in the carriage for Beatrix to finish her purchases in the dress shop, had witnessed the entire exchange between the two men. Curiosity got the best of her and caused her to get out of the carriage under the disapproving eye of Beatrix’s driver to read the piece of parchment for herself.

It was as the gentlemen had said. Lark was offering money in exchange for information about Manuel Silva. She shivered in the afternoon heat despite the perspiration which beaded her upper lip to wonder if Lark had finally gotten what he was after. Would he soon be putting her on a ship to England while he pursued Silva? If so, she’d never see him again. She couldn’t bear the thought of that, and worst of all, she couldn’t imagine Lark not returning from his mission. What if Silva killed him this time?

No matter that he wouldn’t admit he loved her or commit himself in any way to her, she loved him and vowed to help him. But how?

“Marlee, dear, what are you doing outside of the carriage?” Beatrix scolded, her arms loaded down with brightly wrapped packages.

“Nothing but getting a breath of air. It was stuffy inside the carriage.”

“Well, you should be more careful. I shouldn’t have brought you to this part of the island. You’re so young and pretty that anything could have happened to you.” Beatrix made a move to get inside with the driver’s help when Marlee forestalled her with a hand on her arm.

“Isn’t that Sloane Mason?” Marlee asked and pointed to the man at the end of the street who’d just entered a whitewashed two-storied house with a sign that proclaimed it was the Swan Inn.

“What?” Beatrix asked absently and then looked to where Marlee pointed. “Yes, I believe that’s him.”

“Does he live there?” Marlee asked and settled herself comfortably in the upholstered seat by arranging the flowing skirt of her white calico gown.

“Yes, when he isn’t off doing God only knows what on that ship of his. Sloane is a wastrel and a ne’er-do-well, and you’d do yourself a favor by staying away from him.”

“I got the impression that Governor Rogers liked him,” Marlee observed.

“Woodes tolerates him, that’s all,” Beatrix said through compressed lips. “Sloane happens to be a good source of information about what’s happening on the island and the vicinity, at least Woodes thinks so.”

“Then the governor trusts him?”

Beatrix’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, to a point, but I don’t. He’ll do anything for the right price. Marlee, I’m warning you about Sloane Mason, too. Stay away from him. He’s more dangerous than Lark Arden.” She fanned herself with a delicately painted fan. “I shall be so grateful, my dear, when you’re safely in England. Chaperoning such a young and pretty woman is quite draining. I think the best decision Lark Arden has ever made is to send you back to England.”

Marlee hid a secret smile. Now that she knew about Sloane Mason, she wouldn’t be returning to England after all.

~ ~ ~

Upon their return to the house, Governor Rogers called her into the study where she found Lark. Her delight at seeing him was tempered by his introduction of another man with him. “This is Captain Neils Lundstrum,” Lark introduced Marlee to the gray-haired sea captain with twinkling blue eyes. “Captain Lundstrum is setting sail for England day after tomorrow. I’ve arranged your passage with him, and I know that you’ll be quite safe with him.”

“As safe as I was with you?” she bit out before thinking and then blushed. She extended her hand graciously to Lundstrum. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Arden.” Lundstrum smiled at her and kissed her hand. “My little ship is graced by your presence. I look forward to having you aboard.”

“How kind of you to say that,” she responded to his compliment but she had no intention of being on board a ship day after tomorrow—at least not Lundstrum’s ship. A moment of panic seized her but she brought it under swift control. If what she planned to do was destined to succeed, then she had to speak to Sloane Mason right away.

When Rogers and Lundstrum became engaged in a lively discussion, Lark motioned Marlee outside. “Let’s walk,” he said, and Marlee noticed his expression was gravely serious. She swallowed hard. This was the moment she’d been dreading. This was the moment of farewell, she could feel it.

They walked the sandy beach with bare feet, a gentle warm breeze at their backs. Not once did Lark reach out to take her hand, and she felt her heart was breaking. Why couldn’t he admit that he loved her? she asked herself. Why must she love him so much and hope that they would have a life together once he completed his obsessive mission? And was there reason for such hope?

Finally, Lark stopped on the beach and gazed out at the sun-kissed horizon that stretched in azure waves before them. He turned to her. There were no dancing amber glints in his eyes today, only a profound sadness. “I’m sailing tomorrow at first light,” he told her.

She fiddled with a bow at the neckline of her gown. “You’re going after Manuel Silva.”

“Yes, I think I know where to find him.”

“And when you do, what then, Lark? What about us?”

Lark sighed deeply. “There can be no us, Marlee, though I wish to God things could be different.”

“Explain to me why they can’t be,” she persisted and her voice rose a bit over the sea breezes. “You’ve never given me an adequate explanation for any of this. I understand you’re anxious to avenge what Silva did to you, but afterward you could return to me here. I’d be waiting for you. We could have a life together—we could be—married.” There she’d said it out loud for the first time. She waited with bated breath for his reaction.

Lark remained silent for a few seconds before he spoke. His dark eyes perused her face as if he’d never looked at her before. “I can’t marry you. You’re better off without me, Marlee. Once you’re in England, you’ll forget me, forget everything.”

“How am I to forget the man who took my innocence, the man whom I love? And I do love you, Lark. I know you love me, too. Why can’t you tell me you love me? Why?”

Her pleading undid him. Without realizing it, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until his lips ached. Then he broke the kiss and looked deeply into the fathomless depths of her blue eyes. “I’ll say this only one time, Marlee, only once.” His voice sounded low and husky, almost like music to Marlee’s ears. His hands stroked her jawline and stopped at the base of her neck. “I love you. I’ve never said that to another woman but you, and no matter what happens in the future what I feel for you will never change.”

“Oh, Lark, I love you so much,” she cried, joyful tears welling in her eyes and threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “I knew you loved me, I knew it. I won’t leave you now. I can’t.”

“But you will.”

Marlee blinked at the sudden harshness in his voice, more than dismayed to have him push her away from him. “But you just told me that you loved me—”

“And I meant it, Marlee. But if you love me, you must promise to leave New Providence and pursue your life. You must promise me that you’ll forget me. There are things in my past that don’t concern you, things you’re better off not knowing. I want your promise that you’ll leave day after tomorrow. I need to know that you’re safe and living at Arden Manor. Promise me that you’ll leave, promise me.”

“But you love me—”

“Promise me,” he ground out harshly.

She’d promise him the moon if he asked for it. Yet she didn’t understand how he could admit he loved her and send her away. Had his vengeful mission against Silva blinded him to everything that made life worthwhile? However, she could see that Lark was struggling within himself, warring with his own demons. Her promise must be made to give him some peace of mind for the moment. “I promise I’ll sail away day after tomorrow, just as you ask.”

A wrenching sigh wracked his chest. “Thank you, Marlee.”

“This is farewell then?” she asked and found her cheeks wet with tears.

Lark gently wiped a tear from her face, and she saw his own eyes were misty. “Yes, my lady. I won’t see you again.”

“Godspeed, Lark.”

Making a wide sweeping bow, Lark didn’t take his gaze from her. “You, too, my lady.” Despite their sorrow, he managed to flash her a disarming smile that sent a thrill down to Marlee’s very toes. And then Lark turned away and walked briskly down the beach. Not once did he look back. But Marlee knew he was thinking about her and wanting her as much as she wanted him.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and remembered the promise she’d made to Lark. That was a promise she intended to keep, too. She’d sail away the day after tomorrow but not on Captain Lundstrum’s ship. If ever two people deserved to be together, she and Lark were that pair. And they would be together again with the help of God—and Sloane Mason.

Marlee walked the distance to the Swan Inn by way of the beach. She didn’t use Governor Rogers’s driver because she hated Beatrix to know where she was headed. The simple fact was that she didn’t wish anyone to know her destination in the event that Sloane was unable to help her. She didn’t know if he would help her, but she prayed he’d understand her situation and offer to assist her.

“You be wantin’ to see Captain Mason?” the innkeeper asked her and eyed her suspiciously when she was standing inside the inn.

“That’s what I said, sir,” she answered with a dignified air. “I want to speak to Captain Mason. Is he in?”

“Aye. Room three at the top o’ the stairs. You ain’t like his other women,” the man noted and raked Marlee’s petite frame with lecherous eyes.

Goodness! The crude man thought she was one of Sloane Mason’s doxies. A flush highlighted her complexion for him to think such a thing though she’d worn a simple blue gown with a modest neckline. “What you think isn’t my concern,” she replied in a tone which would freeze water. “Please tell Captain Mason that I wish to see him.”

The innkeeper was clearly taken aback by her haughtiness. “Tell him yourself, my fine lady! I ain’t no lackey. Room three, I told you.” In a huff he turned his back on her and left Marlee standing in full view of the diners in the tap room. Some of the men, clearly disreputable-looking creatures, watched her with lecherous eyes. She couldn’t stand here all day like she was on exhibit, but she’d never gone to a man’s room by herself. However, when one of the men made a motion as if to rise from his chair and come toward her, Marlee scampered up the nearby stairs to seek out Sloane Mason in the belief that he was the lesser of two evils.

Finding Sloane’s room, she timidly knocked upon the door. Now that she was finally here she was uncertain that Sloane would help her. She’d been quite rude to him, and he and Lark weren’t what one could term “close.”

“Who is it?” came Sloane’s deep masculine voice when she knocked harder upon the door.