Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (26 page)

Bettina’s words caught in her throat as she cast her gaze down, refusing to look at Lark. “I’ve lived in hell—a veritable hell—with that filthy pirate.” She looked up uncertainly, tears misting her eyes. “You do believe that I never—never wanted what happened to me. You will not make me say what I’ve been through, please, Lark, don’t question me about—”

“I won’t ask you a thing,” he assured her and patted her back. “You’re safe, Bettina.”

“Yes,” she breathed and smiled at him, but her smile was short-lived when he moved away and made a motion to head for the beach. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

“Stay here and gather your things together. We’re leaving shortly.”

Hope glistened in her eyes. “Are we heading for Bermuda to be married? I would like to see my parents again, to be married there.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” he absently told her, “but first I have to speak to someone.”

Bettina appeared uncomfortable for a second. “You’re going to speak to Captain Mason, aren’t you?” At Lark’s nod, she shrugged in what Lark could only term was a hopeless gesture. “He rescued me, you know, but he was forced to leave that other woman with Silva as an exchange for me. I doubt you’ll get her back.” I hope you don’t, she thought.

Lark was disbelieving. Could Sloane have been so foolish as to bribe Silva with Marlee for Bettina’s release? Something was wrong here, very wrong, and he was determined to learn the truth or kill his brother in the process. “Pack whatever you need, we’re leaving just as soon as the tide is favorable,” he told her not unkindly and pecked her cheek. As an afterthought, he said, “I’m glad you’re safe, Bettina, I truly am.”

She clutched at his arm, desperation shone on her face. “We’re going to be married on Bermuda. Promise me.”

“I promise I’ll take you home.” His mind wasn’t on his wedding to Bettina. It was on Marlee and how to free her from Silva’s clutches.

~ ~ ~

Lark kicked open the door to Sloane’s cabin on The Merry Bandit, causing Sloane to glance up from the logbook on his desk in an unperturbed fashion which further infuriated Lark.

“I wondered how long it would be before you got around to paying me a visit,” Sloane remarked and laid down his quill.

Enraged beyond reason, Lark rushed toward his brother and gripped his brother’s throat before Sloane knew what had happened to him. “I should kill you, you despicable bastard!” Lark ground out and at that moment, he meant every word, even tightening his hand to give credence to them. But he noticed Sloane’s fear, something he’d never seen on his brother’s face. He’d seen cockiness, arrogance, and greed, but never pure fear. Slowly, he released the choke-hold. Sloane fell forward, sputtering and gasping for breath.

“Why don’t you kill me? I—I deserve to die.”

This unexpected comment from Sloane surprised Lark. “Yes, you do,” he agreed, “and I might just oblige you, but I want to hear why you think so.”

Sloane groaned, barely able to look at Lark. “I brought Marlee to Silva, as I’m certain you know by now. I’m certain Governor Rogers or Bettina told you.”

“Why did you do such a stupid, idiotic thing?” Lark burst out, clenching his fists to stop himself from beating in Sloane’s handsome face.

Sloane rubbed his throat. “Hatred for you made me do it, dear brother. But—but I never meant for Marlee to be harmed, or for her to be taken as prisoner by that demented Spaniard. All I wanted was for her to learn about Bettina, to see firsthand the woman you planned to marry. Then Marlee would be forced to turn away from you, and you’d be pining for her, living in abject misery while I wiped away her tears.” Sloane heaved a disgruntled sigh. “Nothing happened the way I thought it would.”

“Why in the name of heaven did you take her to Saint Augustine anyway?” Lark didn’t understand Sloane, and he doubted he ever would.

Sloane gave an anxious little cough. “Because I knew Silva to be hiding there. Because Marlee wanted to rescue your friend, the person whom Silva kidnapped from your ship, as a way of helping you. She thought if she could convince Silva to release this “friend” then you’d see how much she loved you and would consent to marry her.”

“Did she tell you that?” Lark felt barely able to breathe.

“She didn’t have to,” Sloane confessed and his eyes condemned his brother. “I could see how much she loved you and wanted to be your wife. So, I can’t take all of the blame. You’re partly responsible for never telling her that your friend was really the woman you planned to marry.”

Lark barely stifled a groan. Sloane was right, he knew. He hadn’t told Marlee about Bettina because he feared hurting her more deeply. He was a coward where she was concerned. Because he conceivably might be in love with Marlee, he’d hidden a part of his life from her. Because of him she was in physical danger, and he must save her by freeing her from Silva, and, in effect, freeing her from himself. “You’re going to help me get Marlee away from Silva,” he told his brother.

Shaking his head, Sloane grimaced. “Silva’s home is surrounded by armed guards. Even the Spanish governor bows to his word. There’s no way anyone can get her away from Saint Augustine.”

“There’s a way,” Lark pronounced.

“I doubt that.” Sloane was less optimistic. “How many men do you need?”

“I need any men you can gather who’ll sail with you on The Merry Bandit as defense. I’ll take whatever men are left on my crew and head for Matanzas Bay.”

“How many men will actually be needed for the assault against Silva’s men?”

Lark raised an eyebrow and caressed the saber at his side. “Only one.”

“You think you’re going to break through Silva’s defenses on your own? Lark, you’re daft.”

“No. I’m just tired of people being hurt because of Manuel Silva. This time, since I know where Silva is”—and he shot a razor-edged look at Sloane—”I can worm my way into the area and get information. This time I’m going to take all of the chances—and win. I’ve got to win. Marlee’s life depends upon it.”

“Then this is the first time we’ll be working together for a common good,” Sloane wryly observed.

Lark bent down to his brother. “Aye, it is, and the last.”

~ ~ ~

Silva’s gaudy red carriage clip-clopped along the waterfront and entered the stone city gate of St. Augustine. The carriage meandered through the narrow streets that contained two-story homes whose wrought-iron balconies hung precariously overhead. Finally, the driver stopped at the open-air market and Silva helped Doña Carlotta and then Marlee from the conveyance. He smiled as he kept her small hand in his. “I have great hopes of bringing you to my bed this night. I’ve waited a long time for you, and I grow weary waiting to break down your resistance. Perhaps another bauble or two will cause you to look more appreciatively at me. Besides, your injury has healed. I won’t wait forever.”

Silva had made a game of wooing her. Within the last three weeks Silva had presented her with elaborate gowns and jewels so breathtakingly beautiful that any other woman would have succumbed and gone willingly to Silva’s bed. Marlee, however, wasn’t just any woman, and it appeared Silva was beginning to realize she couldn’t be bought with trinkets no matter how beautiful and expensive. She doubted that Silva had paid one peso for any of the items he’d given her, no doubt having pilfered everything from some doomed ship.

“Do what you want,” she said without emotion in her voice or color in her cheeks.

“Ah, well, let me tell you what I wish to do.” Silva whispered something so extremely obscene into her ear that Marlee blushed all of the way to her hairline, delighting Silva with her reaction. “I knew that would make you blush,” he delightedly observed, but his face darkened for an instant, “I want more than a blush of embarrassment to cover your body. I want your body to be consumed with the heat of passion—and tonight, tonight it shall be so. Now tell me what you wish and I shall buy it for you.”

Marlee hid her trembling hands within the folds of the silk skirt of her gown. “I—I should like an orange.”

“That is all?” Silva appeared dumbfounded by her request.

“Yes.”

“A strange woman you are, but I suppose that is because you’re English.” He took her arm and led her to a stall where an old lady with a black mantilla on her head was selling fruits to Doña Carlotta; an old man, who wore a large white-brimmed hat that covered his face, was bending over a crate of the sweet-smelling fruits. The orange was duly purchased and presented to Marlee who bit into the fruit’s succulent flesh. When a bit of juice ran down her chin, Manuel hurried to wipe it away with his thumb.

A strange, hot glint enveloped his eyes. “
Sí
, tonight you shall be mine at last.”

She wanted to die, ached to wither away and die right there. Silva escorted her to the carriage and they headed back to the house with Doña Carlotta.

The old man stood up from his task and sharp eyes would have noticed he wasn’t old at all. He glanced at the elderly woman who watched the carriage depart. “Did she take the potion?” the man asked her.

The woman nodded briskly. “
Sí
,
señor
. My former mistress, Doña Carlotta, hates Silva. She’ll make certain that he never touches the English lady. Rest easy,
señor
, your lady is safe for tonight.”

~ ~ ~

Silva watched Marlee like a vulture who waits for its prey to die. He licked his lips at the way she daintily consumed her supper. His loins hardened at the thought of what ecstasy awaited him. And
Dios
, how long he had waited to bed this woman! With his other women, especially with Bettina, there had been no wooing, no waiting. Wooing a woman was something unusual to him, but he found he liked it—to a point. Marlee had been under his roof for more than three weeks and still he hadn’t done more than kiss her a few times. Each time, however, she’d stiffened like a plank and been as responsive as one. He’d grown tired waiting for her reserve to break. Tonight, she’d be his. He’d make her his.

“Is the fish to your liking?” he asked and flashed her a wolfish smile that caused her insides to quake.

“Delicious,” she lied. She couldn’t taste anything at the moment because she knew what Silva planned for her.

“Did you notice the pretty night thing that Doña Carlotta laid out for you? I hope you like it.”

She nodded, because she’d seen the transparent piece of gossamer quite clearly. There was no mistaking the fact that Silva wanted her to model it for him. “
Bueno
, but don’t get too attached to it for it won’t cover your beautiful body for long, I assure you.”

She wanted to retch, literally ached to run to the chamber pot, but she wouldn’t allow Silva to see how truly repulsed she was by him and his lewd overtures. “You’ve thought of everything,” she said and her sarcasm wasn’t lost on the man.

“Not everything, almost, however. You see, I want to marry you, Marlee. That’s why I want you to accept me, to come willingly to me. But since you won’t, then I shall force the matter.”

Marlee dropped her fork and shook her head. “You can’t mean that! I won’t marry you or come to you like some chastised puppy with its head bowed. I don’t love you!”

“I didn’t expect you to, but you’re the perfect choice for my wife, to bear me sons. Love can come later; for now you’re going to let me bed you. To be honest, love doesn’t have to enter into it.” He puffed on a cheroot and blew a smoke ring, then ordered Doña Carlotta to see that his wine cup was refilled. The woman, who was hovering near the sideboard, quickly came forward and took the cup. Neither Marlee nor Silva saw her open the top of the ring she wore on her index finger and empty a white powder which quickly dissolved into the wine’s contents. Silva hastily downed the wine after she’d placed it on the table in front of him. With a harsh voice, he ordered the old lady out of the room and impaled Marlee with a lascivious expression.

“You’re different from that other one,” he praised in a voice which sounded a bit slurred. Marlee knew he was speaking about Bettina and clutched at the table’s edge. She hated thinking about Bettina, detested her own imaginings about what she and Lark must be doing, since they’d been so happily reunited. Were they married now? She felt certain they were. Lark loved Bettina a great deal to risk masquerading as another woman’s husband to get the money to outfit a ship to rescue her. Did Bettina know how lucky she was? Suddenly she was routed from her torturous memories by the sound of Silva hitting the table with his fist. “Stop thinking about Lark Arden when you’re with me!” he commanded. “I know you’re thinking about him.”

It wouldn’t do any good to lie to him. “Yes, I was thinking about Lark.”

“You love him, don’t you?” His voice sounded unusually slurred, very unlike Silva, who always seemed to be in control of his physical faculties.

“What I feel is none of your concern,” she said, then wished she hadn’t said anything for Silva rose unsteadily to his feet and advanced toward her.

Without a warning, he viciously pushed back her chair until she nearly fell but he grabbed her arm and hauled her against him. “I’ve given you plenty of time, much more than I’ve ever given any woman. I’ve given you clothes and jewels, things you refuse to wear. So, wear nothing then!” He ripped open the front of her dress until her chemise-clad breasts were exposed to him. She pushed at him, clawing at him when he lifted her from her feet. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Silva carried her toward the bedroom where Bettina had been willingly seduced by him.

He threw her onto the bed and laid atop her, tearing the very clothes from her body. “Manuel, stop, stop!” But Manuel didn’t hear her. All he saw was her beautiful body, the way her full breasts enticed him, the way her shapely thighs kicked out at him. This was a woman worth keeping, no matter how she fought him. In fact, her fighting only made his lust the more potent.

“Quiet,” he groaned into her ear and began kissing her lips, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Marlee was his now, his to do whatever he wanted. Her struggles beneath him enflamed him further and there was only one thing to do. One way to end his torment.