Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (22 page)

“I hope I can trust you,” she said and looked unabashedly into his eyes.

“You can,” he assured her in all solemnity. “I won’t allow Silva to harm you.”

Somehow she believed him.

From the moment Sloane had returned to the ship and told her to dress for her audience with the notorious Manuel Silva, her stomach had been fluttering as if a butterfly had taken up residence. The gown she’d chosen was a deep wine-colored silk with tiny green bows on the sleeves to match the satin underskirt. She’d worn her hair atop her head, threading the curls with a green ribbon. She’d felt she looked fine except for the low bodice of the gown, so she’d worn the gold locket to draw attention away from her breasts. She knew she must hope Silva found her attractive enough to release Lark’s friend—but not too attractive.

“Smile, Marlee. You look like you’re going to be gobbled up by a troll.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head at Sloane, “only a pirate.”

~ ~ ~

Marlee found that Manuel Silva wasn’t the fearsome dragon she’d expected. He was still a handsome and robust man for his forty years, and though he wore a tiny gold earring in his ear, she wasn’t frightened of him. His manners were impeccable, his bearing was kingly. She couldn’t believe the horrible stories she’d heard about him from Lark. But she hadn’t been on Lark’s ship when Silva had blown it to bits and kidnapped Lark’s friend. Perhaps there was an evil side to the well-dressed and polite pirate. But at the moment, he was doing his best to be most charming—and succeeding.

He took her hand and politely kissed it. “May I say, Lady Arden, that you are quite beautiful. Sloane didn’t lie to me about that.”

“Thank you,
Señor
Silva. I appreciate your taking the time to see me.”

“May I offer you a glass of port before supper?” he asked in a honey-smooth voice.

“Er, no, thank you.” Marlee glanced quickly at Sloane who leaned against the door frame. Sloane hadn’t told her they were invited to supper.

“As you wish, my lady.” Manuel poured himself and Sloane a cup of port. He rang a bell and instantly a small, elderly lady appeared. “Please inform Lady Bettina that we shall soon dine,” he told the woman who was dressed all in black, even the mantilla she wore on her gray hair was black. “Is she over her pout yet, Doña Carlotta?”

“
Sí
,
señor
. She will soon be dressed and at table.”

“
Bueno
.” He waved the woman away with a careless hand and turned his attention upon Marlee. “How do you like my home?” he asked.

Marlee appraised the lavish surroundings, finding everything to be strikingly lovely. The house had only two stories, and was set prettily in a garden that was overrun with greenery and the sweet scent of orange trees that were planted outside past the patio doors. The furniture placed in what she’d heard Silva refer to earlier as the “
sala
,” was heavy in appearance. The chairs were covered in a red brocade material with tiny specks of gold and the divan was upholstered in a dark red velvet, so heavy of material that Marlee grew warm just looking at it. The candelabra on the ceiling illuminated the entire room, and though the furnishings were attractive, the walls seemed swathed in dark, dancing shadows.

“Your house is very nice,” she complimented Silva. She couldn’t help wondering how a pirate could own such a richly appointed house in what seemed to her to be a respectable neighborhood.

“I’m relieved you like it, my lady.” His dark eyes roamed familiarly over her. “Very glad you like it. My wish is only to please you.”

“Why?”

Silva appeared confused by Marlee’s direct question. “I don’t understand, my lady.”

Marlee placed her hands in her lap and looked probingly at the pirate. “Why do you care what I think? Why should you want to please me? I’m not here for a social call,
Señor
Silva, as you well know.”

“
Madre de Dios
!” he lowly exclaimed and indicated Sloane with a nod of his head. “Captain Mason was right about you, my lady. You are very direct.” He stroked his beard, thoughtfully assessing her. “To be honest with you, I’m not used to such directness in a woman.”

“I trust you realize why I’ve come to see you.”

“
Sí
, Sloane told me.”

“Did Sloane also tell you that I’m very wealthy, that I’m willing to pay your price to release Lark Arden’s friend?”

“He did.”

“Then I shall like to negotiate his release as soon as possible.”

Silva’s eyes danced with merriment, and he took Marlee by the hand and brought her to her feet. “
Señora
, please dine with me first before we begin such ponderous negotiations. I assure you that the “prisoner” you seek to free is quite comfortable and very happy.”

“I doubt a prisoner is happy, sir,” she replied a bit too heatedly.

“Ah, you wound me with your mistrust, my lady.” Silva laid a hand on his chest and heaved a sigh. “Assure Lady Arden,” he said to Sloane, “that I am a trustworthy fellow.”

“He’s trustworthy,” Sloane snapped out, but he was scowling darkly.

Those were the first words that Sloane Mason had spoken since she’d been introduced to the wily Silva. Marlee wondered why Sloane had been silent for so long, why suddenly she felt something was amiss. As the pirate led her into the dining room, she was all too aware that the amused smirk on Silva’s face bode nothing good.

~ ~ ~

They were seated at the dining table. The soft glow from the candles lent a softness to the room, a mellowness which Marlee didn’t feel. Her insides churned with a slow, steady thread of fear. She tried to convince herself that she was overreacting, that the stories concerning Silva had affected her judgment of the man. There was nothing evil about him, unless one could say the gold earring was daunting, that the way his dark-eyed gaze devoured her was unsettling. But she’d been devoured by another man with ebony eyes and had liked that immensely. This was different and more unnerving than even Sloane’s lustful looks.

Sloane. He was no help at all to her. She’d hoped that he’d somehow champion her cause, but now she was under the odd impression that he was in league with Silva. They were too chummy for Marlee’s liking. She remembered things Sloane had said about the man—their mutual respect for each other. The old saying “Birds of a feather fly together” came to mind about these two.

Nervously she fingered the locket. Had she placed her trust in the wrong place?

“My lady, you aren’t eating your turtle soup,” Silva admonished lightly. “My cook shall think you don’t like it.”

“It’s very tasty,” she quickly assured Silva. “I just don’t seem to have much of an appetite.”

“Ah, I think you’ve been too long among sailors and poor food,” he observed with a sly smile. “After you’re in Saint Augustine for a while and eat only the best, your appetite will improve.”

“But I don’t plan to be here for very long—” Marlee began but was cut off by Silva’s impatient ringing of a small bell. The summons was immediately answered by the tiny, black-clad woman who’d appeared in the
sala
earlier.

“Doña Carlotta, where is Lady Bettina?” he harshly asked the woman who seemed to cower and grow smaller with each syllable he uttered. “Her soup is growing cold and she has yet to grace us with her presence.”

“I don’t know,
señor
. I told her you were expecting her but she—”

“Leave Doña Carlotta alone, Manuel. I’m here.” The voice which broke into the old woman’s words was lyrical and soft. All eyes turned on the beautiful auburn-haired woman who seemed to glide into the dining room. Dressed in a gold and green satin gown, her brilliant and flawless smile rivaled the diamond and emerald-studded choker at her neck. She was clearly one of the most breathtakingly beautiful women Marlee had ever seen. Apparently Sloane thought so, too, for his enraptured gaze never left the woman. Marlee watched her, too, for a different reason. She couldn’t help but wonder why the woman seemed so familiar to her.

Manuel and Sloane rose in unison. As Manuel helped her to her seat, the woman glanced at Marlee for only a second before smiling warmly at Manuel. “You’re just too sweet to me, my love,” she endearingly murmured and patted the pirate’s hand.

The woman was English. Marlee realized it almost immediately. Why was an Englishwoman living under Silva’s roof?

“May I present Lady Bettina Gilbert to you.” Silva spoke to Marlee and Sloane. He introduced Sloane to Lady Bettina first, something Marlee thought was incredibly rude, but finally he said to Bettina, “And may I present to you, my dear, the Baroness of Arden, the Lady Marlee Arden.”

Bettina’s dazzling smile diminished and she played with the choker. “Arden, did you say?”

“Yes, your ladyship,” Marlee spoke up.

The woman’s face was very pale now, and Marlee wondered if she might be ill. “Are you related to the Ardens of Virginia? I—I knew some of them once—through my father,” she hurriedly amended.

“I’m the widow of Lord Richard Arden of Cornwall. He was related to the Arden family of Virginia.” Marlee saw no reason to mention her relationship to Lark. Bettina didn’t need to know anything about that.

“I see,” Bettina said, almost in relief, and placed the napkin in her lap. “Excuse my tardiness. Shall we dine now? I trust Cook has outdone herself this time. The soup smells delicious.

As the four people dined on turtle soup and the most succulent chicken dish Marlee had ever eaten, the room grew quiet, almost too quiet for Marlee’s liking. After a brief spell of silence, Manuel lifted his cup of wine in Marlee’s direction. “To you, Lady Arden, one of the most beautiful women to grace my humble table. May our business together bring success to both of us.”

Bettina’s sharp eyes took in the way Silva looked at Marlee and the gracious way she’d acknowledged the toast.

Sloane Mason smirked, and she’d have sworn whatever amused him so much concerned her—and Marlee Arden. She didn’t care for the way Silva constantly included the brunette in conversation, taking pains to be gallant. She’d been wooed in the very same way not too long ago. Was Silva about to displace her in his affections and his home with Marlee Arden?

Her mouth hardened into a very unpleasant and hard-looking line. She wouldn’t allow this woman to take her place in Silva’s bed. Manuel was all that she had. She couldn’t return to Bermuda, now that he’d thoroughly debauched her. There would be too much speculation, too many rumors to live down. No one would accept her if the truth of what happened aboard Silva’s ship ever was told. Being turned over to a band of pirates was information she never wanted anyone in polite circles to know—but if the news that she’d enjoyed every second of the orgy ever got out, she’d be ruined for life. No one would accept her—not even her own parents or other family members. She had no alternative but to remain on Saint Augustine with Manuel as his mistress—or his wife if he’d consent to wed her.

And no simpering innocent was going to ruin her life.

“Now we shall discuss the release of Captain Arden’s friend,” Manuel Silva said and puffed on a cheroot. His sharp-eyed glance encompassed Marlee who demurely sat in the
sala
and sipped a glass of port. The meal had progressed pleasantly enough, but the knots in Marlee’s stomach tightened when the pirate had insisted their conversation be a private one. The last time she’d seen Sloane he’d been leading Lady Bettina into the garden for a stroll.

She was alone without a soul to help her. She must keep her wits about her.

“My offer is a generous one.” Marlee decided not to mince words or waste time. She wanted this issue settled so she could leave St. Augustine and wait for Lark’s return on New Providence.

“I’m certain it is, but what if my price is too high?”

“I trust you’ll be reasonable,
Señor
Silva, and understand that the money will be sent to you as soon as my solicitor in England is notified.”

“Ah, that is most disturbing. I had assumed the money was near at hand.”

His words upset her. Perhaps he wouldn’t release Lark’s friend now. “I had hoped you’d understand my situation and would wait for the money to be sent to you. You have my word on this,
señor
.”

“Call me Manuel, please.” He grinned wolfishly at her and settled himself familiarly beside her on the divan. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you,” he said and gently stroked the back of her hand which she instantly drew away. He didn’t seem upset by her action, seeming to half expect it. “But you must realize that I don’t understand your situation, as you say, and I can’t be certain that I’ll receive the money. You see, I don’t trust the English.” He blew a smoke ring and leaned against the cushions.

This wasn’t going as she’d planned. Nervously, she licked her lips. “You can trust me—Manuel.”

“Manuel is it? You may not be as innocent as I thought, for you’re playing games with me now. But I’m used to such things with women. Now tell me what Lark Arden means to you. Why do you go to such lengths to release a person you don’t know? You must realize that I thought I was rid of Arden when I destroyed his ship. Once again, he has surfaced and is obsessed with killing me. I think you don’t truly know Lark Arden. Are you in love with him?”