Pirate of My Heart: A Novel (8 page)

Kendra nodded, turning to go. In a quick move, Dorian stood and swung her into his arms. “It’s okay now.” His voice gentled as he held her close. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Her stiff body melted into his as a hiccup of a sob broke from her throat. “But your cheek is bleeding!” she cried out in an hysterical wail.

Dorian chuckled and pulled his head back to look at her. With one arm still around her waist supporting her, he took the other hand, and with his thumb, caught a tear racing down her cheek. “Is that what’s bothering you? I thought this scoundrel had scared the wits out of you.”

She sniffed, blinking out more tears. “I knew you’d come.”

Her faith in him caused a feeling of protective love to sweep through him. He grasped her tight to him again, whispering near her ear, “My cheek is only a scratch, my lady. My leg, however, will need some tending though. You can nurse me back to health if you’d like.”

She looked down at his bleeding thigh and took a deep, shuddering inhale. “Oh no. You must sit down. Was the fight terrible? It sounded so terrible.”

Being reminded of the seriousness of the battle was like having a bucket of cold water thrown into his face. “Bad enough. I’ve lost a few men and several are injured.” He gave her a hard, sudden kiss then stood her away from him. “Go and get help, my lady. As soon as this man awakens, I intend to find out who is behind this.”

“But your leg!”

“Is not as bad as it appears. I’ll let you doctor me after I’ve dealt with this man.”

Kendra nodded and ran from the cabin. Dorian hoped the sight of the deck wouldn’t send her into a swoon. The
Angelina
and her men were going to need a long recovery time.

Moments later John entered the cabin with two seamen. “Captain, you’ve captured one of them?” John’s face was white with tension lines standing out on either side of his mouth.

Dorian stood, equally grim. “So I thought. It seems I’ve hit him too hard.” He looked down at the inert body. “He’s gone and died on us.”

Kendra gasped, pressing her hand against her mouth.

John shook his head.

“Well, throw him overboard. We’ll have to investigate this matter on our own once we get to Yorktown.”

“Aye, Captain.” The two seamen lifted the pirate by the arms and legs and carried him from the room.

Chapter Eight

Yorktown, VA—Summer 1798

L
and!” The shout came from above.

Kendra glanced up from the book she had been reading, and then, as the word sank in, she sat up, gripping the book to her chest. Had someone really said
land?

“Land ho!”

They had! She tossed the book aside and leapt from the bed. Taking up her cloak, she dashed out the door and down the narrow corridor, shivers of excitement racing through her.

“Land ho!” she heard again. She fairly flew up to the deck where several of the sailors had gathered at the western rail, gazing out at the dark line of coast just visible on the horizon. Kendra joined them, a mixture of excitement and anxiety battling in her stomach. What if her aunt and uncle didn’t want her? What would she do then?

Dorian saw her the minute she came up on deck, a sunny spot of yellow against the gray-green water. He started toward her, grinning at the way she clapped down another monstrous hat, this time a wide-brimmed yellow straw trimmed in black ribbons with some kind of enormous bunch of yellow feathers in the front and a single, long black feather sticking out in the back. The feathers looked ready to make use of their original design and give the hat flight in the stiff wind. Once he reached her side he asked on a cheerful note, “Are you happy to see the end of our voyage is in sight, Lady Kendra?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, looking at up him with excited eyes. “I will be most happy to plant my feet upon solid ground.”

Dorian took in the sparkle in her violet-hued eyes as he jested, “I’m afraid you will have to endure another day or two of my company as I am bound to escort you to your new home.”

Her eyes widened and a hint of surprise flashed across her face. “You are personally seeing me to my aunt’s?”

“Would you rather John saw to it? He is the one who assured your uncle that he would see you safely home.”

“Oh. Whatever is most convenient, of course.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment and turned toward the spot of land in the distant. In a voice almost too low to hear she admitted, “I should welcome your company, though. I am a bit nervous as to my reception when I first meet my aunt and uncle.”

“You have never met these relatives before?” His regard for Lord Townsend slipped another notch.

“No, they left for America soon after they were married. I hadn’t been born.”

“I see.” But he didn’t really. The protective urge he felt for her surged to the fore. “What else do you know of this aunt and uncle of yours?”

“Not much,” Kendra replied with a shrug. “Aunt Amelia was my mother’s younger sister. She married Lord Rutherford and they soon left for America.” Kendra looked up at him with such innocent eyes. The thought of dropping her off at a stranger’s house made his stomach churn. He tried to focus on her speculations as she continued. “I thought perhaps he had been assigned there by the king, before the war, or some circumstance like that.”

“Hmmm.” Dorian didn’t want to upset Kendra with his reservations so he merely nodded. If this aunt and uncle were unsuitable he would take her to his home.

His home? The thought, so strong and sudden, gave him pause. He looked away from her open face to suppress a groan. What would he do with her then? Marry her? His first marriage had been a sham, a disaster, and he’d vowed never to make that mistake again. Molly’s face flashed through his mind. A pretty brown-haired girl with curves beyond her years. He’d only been eighteen. Young, intemperate, and foolish. Molly was two years younger and knew something about batting eyelashes and leaning close enough that he could feel her body against his arm. He’d gotten her pregnant. At least that’s what Molly and her mother had told them after their one time together. His parents had urged Dorian to do the right thing and marry the girl. Something they never spoke of now, something they all regretted. As soon as she’d moved in with them, Molly had turned from a demure innocent who’d unwittingly been lured into Dorian’s arms to a selfish girl who took every opportunity to demand and complain. She’d insisted on her own maid, had no interest in learning the duties of a wife or helping Hannah, Dorian’s mother. She spent all of her time parading about town in the Colburn carriage and begging Dorian to take her places and buy her things.

Driven by despair, Dorian threw himself into work and it paid off. Within a few months and with a little help from his father, he had bought his first ship and sailed away from his problems—leaving them in the hands of his family. But Molly had tricked them all.

When he arrived home, six months after his wedding, he discovered that Molly wasn’t really pregnant, never had been. It was all a ruse. Dorian turned his back on her and never looked her in the eyes again. He left again and again, leaving his parents to deal with her, never home, always sailing, always free on the wide-open sea. He’d grown hard, he could feel it inside, a hardening that only cared for his ships and the sea and this form of freedom.

A couple of years later his unuttered prayer was answered, leaving him mired in another level of wretchedness. While Dorian was away on one of the ships, Molly went to visit her mother and contracted small pox. She had been forced to stay at her mother’s for fear of contaminating the Colburns, something that couldn’t have pleased her. In less than two weeks she had died. Dorian hadn’t even been there for the funeral and when he finally did find out, it was as if a great burden had been lifted from him. He was almost happy about it, and for that he couldn’t forgive himself or Molly.

He’d drifted then. Free but not. Building his fortune and turning his back on any kind of depth in relationships. Women were off limits except to flirt and dally. The more he pulled away from them the more willing they became. He found himself having to use his wits to escape their entrapping tactics. Like Angelene. No one understood that he knew she and women like her had been playing their game to his advantage for years. He’d never thought to have a different life.

He needed to remember all of this, keep it in the forefront of his mind when the lovely earl’s daughter flashed her brilliant violet-hued eyes at him and turned his stomach into mush. He? Husband and father? Tied to the land and a woman he would struggle to trust? The idea struck him as a blow while a constricting feeling tightened around his neck, making him struggle to drag in the next breath.

“Are you alright, Captain?” She looked up at him with that open, heart-shaped face and big, tilted eyes. She placed her gloved hand on his arm, all concerned loveliness. He found he couldn’t answer. He was certainly
not
alright. Before true panic could set in, he bowed in a short jerk and muttered, “I had better get back to my duties,” and turned and walked away.

Kendra’s brows came together as she watched him leave. Whatever had she done to send him scurrying off like that, as if his very life was in danger? She exhaled with a loud humph and turned back toward the growing dark line on the horizon. America. Land of the free, they said. She could only hope the adage proved true for her, an Englishwoman, who didn’t know the first thing about freedom and what her life here might become.

The next twenty-four hours brought them up to the shores of a new republic. The late afternoon sun glinted off the gray-green water of the York River as the
Angelina
wound her way across the choppy waters of the Chesapeake Bay toward Yorktown. Kendra stood at the railing, watching the lush landscape go by either side of the ship. The water narrowed and narrowed from wide-open sea to a sliver of river waves cutting through wild land. Heavily wooded forests flanked the river’s edge—greens, browns, and the tawny colors of scrub and bush. Kendra took a great, long breath of the moss-damp air and tried as best she could to tamp down the rising anxiety this wilderness brought to her chest.

An hour slid by as they turned toward a bend in the river. Kendra felt her heart rise in hope and wonder as the beginnings of a town came into view. Various-sized storehouses dotted the wharf where men scurried about loading and unloading ships. The sailors aboard the
Angelina
were soon busy docking the great ship as if it were no more than a toy. Kendra marveled at their skill as they slid with ease into their moorings. They were soon bobbing alongside other sea craft of various shapes and sizes, waiting to disembark.

She was just wondering what she should do next when the captain tore himself away from his duties long enough to stride over to her.

“I’ve asked John to escort you ashore, my lady. I have many duties to attend to as yet, but if you will allow him to take you to The Swan, he will see that you have some dinner and a room for the night. In the morning I will procure a carriage and see you to your new home.”

Kendra kept her voice steady even though her throat was as dry as parchment with nerves. “That is very kind of you. Thank you, sir.”

Captain Colburn gave her a small bow and a wink and then hurried off to his duties. John came up from behind him, grinned at her, and offered his arm. “Shall we, Lady Townsend?”

Kendra’s legs shook as she walked down the gangplank, leaning on John’s arm for support. When they stepped off the ship onto dry land, her knees buckled beneath her. John chuckled and hauled her upright. “It might take awhile to regain your land legs, my lady.”

She clung tighter to his arm and laughed in return. “I feel like a babe just learning to walk. How long will it take, do you think?”

John patted her hand. “Not long.”

They took a few more steps and then stopped for Kendra to better gain her balance. Her gaze swept up and down the street, taking in her first look at town life on American soil. There were several townsfolk milling around in fashionable dress, but compared to the mayhem of London, America seemed sparsely inhabited and a bit wild. As they walked along the road that ran along the shore, Kendra had an urge to stretch out her arms and embrace the clean, fresh air. She grinned at the thought as restless energy and excitement filled her. John looked down at her exuberance. “What do you think of America so far?”

“I think I shall like it very much,” she said with a happy tone and a flashing smile. Tucking her hand in his arm, John led her up a long hill and around a bend to Main Street, where the lodging house sat among various shops. Kendra chuckled as they walked down the quaint, cobblestoned street.

“What is it?” John asked.

Kendra looked up into his dark brown eyes with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m laughing at myself, I suppose. I had thought, well imagined, America to be rough log cabins and Indians lurking behind every tree. And here I find myself in this quaint, little town. The houses are two-storied and many of them are made of brick. I hadn’t imagined it so . . . civilized.”

John patted her hand on his arm, eyes alight with humor. “I think you shall find us Americans to be a resourceful sort. Yorktown is becoming rich as a seaport and the folks here are flourishing. Wait until you see some of the plantations. Our own captain’s family has a plantation that boasts an enormous three-storied house that I would wager would rival any of your manor houses in England.”

“You’re proud to be an American, aren’t you? How long has it been since you won your freedom from England?”

“Yes, I am very proud. We have been Americans for just fifteen years. The final battle was right here in Yorktown. Cornwallis surrendered on October nineteenth in 1781.”

“To George Washington? His fame has spread wide and far across England.”

“Yes, I can’t imagine we would have won the war without him.” John was silent for a moment but there was a look of intense purpose in his eyes that caused Kendra’s heart to swell. Had she ever felt anything like that for England?

“Do you . . .” she hesitated, and John paused in their walk to look down at her.

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s just that I’m so very English. Do you think these Americans you speak so highly of will accept me? Shall they despise me because I am a titled Englishwoman?”

John shook his head. “Lady Townsend, I do believe you could melt the heart of the devil himself. Have no fear. I predict your charm and grace will make you most popular.”

Kendra let out a held-in breath. “I am glad to know you and Captain Colburn.” Her smile turned impish. “I may even become an American myself someday.”