Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (23 page)

“I think you know now what reason that might be.” He left her so abruptly that she found support by leaning against a chair.

“I’m to be your whore while I’m here.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t.”

“You will. Whenever I want you, you’ll come to me. When we met, you wanted me to think you were a doxy, so now you shall be.”

“I see that I’m being punished because you believe I’m a spy.”

Hawk sighed and walked into the kitchen. She heard his voice. “What I believe isn’t important any longer. You present a danger to my operation and must remain here. While here, you shall avail me of your body. I think, under the circumstances, you owe that much to me.”

Suddenly she almost hated him. “When will you free me?”

Hawk reentered the room, munching on an apple. “That depends on how well you behave.”

She knew what that meant, and she winced, hating to have to bury her pride. Once again, as on the ship, she’d become his virtual slave and do his bidding. She’d come to his bed when he wanted her, whereas on the ship, she had wished to make love to him and came willingly to his bed. Tears stung her eyes to think that he now regarded her no better than Della or a common trollop.

“I hate you for this, Hawk.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you’ll love the nights.” He sounded unbelievably conceited. “Since you can’t cook,” Bethlyn heard him say, “I’ll arrange for a local woman to help you in the kitchen and give you cooking lessons.”

“Someone else is on the island other than Sparrow and us?”

Hawk laughed. “Yes, but don’t get your hopes up that anyone in the village will help you escape from me. The
Black Falcon
is moored near here, and my men have families on this island. Without their masks, you won’t know who is who. I wouldn’t recommend trying to enlist help from anyone, not even a woman. She might be a wife, a daughter, of one of my faithful crewmen. No one will risk my fury, Beth.”

“You’re so certain of yourself that you make me ill.”

“I have to be sure of myself,” Hawk said, and moved near to her. His voice was whispery soft against her cheek. “I’m so certain of my power over you, that I know for a fact that when I touch you, when I make love to you tonight, you won’t push away. You’ll eagerly open your arms and legs to me.”

The crudity of his words stung, excited, and mortified her, because she feared he was correct.

11

True to his word, Hawk, sent for a woman to help Bethlyn in the kitchen, and by late that afternoon, Bethlyn had helped prepare a seafood stew under the guidance of Mrs. Tansy Tolliver. The hardest part for Bethlyn was the actual cleaning of the fish, but with an expert hand, Mrs. Tolliver instructed her how to do it properly and also told her which spices would give the mackerel a delicious and pungent flavor.

After simmering the stew for over half an hour, Bethlyn carried the bubbling brew in a white soup tureen and placed it on the table in front of Hawk. He motioned for her to spoon the stew into a bowl for him, and Bethlyn very nearly refused, but she stifled her impulse to hurl a nasty remark at him because the kindly and grandmotherly Mrs. Tolliver stood beside her. The old woman’s face beamed with delight as she urged Bethlyn to serve Hawk the stew. “I just know you’ll find it quite tasty, sir,” Mrs. Tolliver said to Hawk. “Beth is a very good cook.”

“Is she now? Well, I can hardly wait,” he said in a tender voice to Mrs. Tolliver while Bethlyn dutifully served him.

When Hawk shoved the first spoonful into his mouth, Bethlyn didn’t realize she waited with baited breath for his approval. It was only when he nodded and continued eating that she breathed a relieved sigh. “I told you he’d like it, Beth.” Mrs. Tolliver winked at her and Bethlyn followed her to the door, thanking her for the help in the kitchen. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll come back in the morning to help you with breakfast, but not too early.” The kindly woman patted her arm and whispered, “I remember how it was when I married my Jack. Newly married people like to sleep late.”

Too stunned to say anything, Bethlyn watched the old woman hobble through the sand to her home on the other side of the island. A warmth suffused Bethlyn’s whole body to realize that Mrs. Tolliver thought she and Hawk were married. She felt she should have told Mrs. Tolliver the truth, but a part of her hated to admit that Hawk wanted her for only one thing, and apparently he didn’t care what people thought about her virtue. But she did, and she found she didn’t want anyone to know she was Hawk’s whore.

Going inside, Hawk waved her to a chair. “Eat some soup, Beth. You’ve done a more than adequate job for your first cooking effort.”

Was he being kind to her, or belittling her cooking? Sometimes she couldn’t tell when Hawk meant what he said. He had a habit of disguising the tone of his voice and of making his eyes look inexpressive. Probably because of that damned mask he wore he could manage to hide his emotions, she thought in disgust. Suddenly she wasn’t hungry and told him so just as Sparrow knocked and entered the kitchen. With barely a nod in Sparrow’s direction, she lifted the hem of her gown and took herself upstairs to the bedroom.

“What’s the matter with her?” she heard Sparrow ask Hawk.

“Must be her time of the month,” was Hawk’s reply.

Even from upstairs color suffused Bethlyn’s face that Hawk would be so crude as to say such a thing about her to another person. However, what could she expect from such a blackguard, a man who’d keep her prisoner here and expect her to enjoy it? Yet she mentally calculated the number of days since her last flux and realized, so far, she wasn’t late. She gave a relieved sigh. Nothing could be worse than to find herself pregnant by Captain Hawk. Most probably the bounder wouldn’t take responsibility for the child if she did conceive.

Hawk’s comment caused her to laugh to herself. So, he thought he would come up here later tonight and claim her again, that he’d be able to make her purr for him like a kitten. Well, she wouldn’t. She’d tell him she was ill, and if he had the audacity to ask her what ailed her, then she’d recant word for word what he’d told Sparrow.

This was exactly what she did some two hours later.

Hawk stood looking at her from the doorway, but instead of inquiring further, he left the house. A sense of elation filled her. He wouldn’t treat her like a whore, she told herself, but she did feel a bit lost without him beside her in the soft feather bed. She also couldn’t help wondering where he’d gone, and if he’d spent the night alone.

Lulled by the sounds of the surf outside the window, she drifted off to sleep. She dreamed that she came to the door of a small house on the island. In her arms she carried Hawk’s child. When she knocked on the door, Hawk opened it, and a beautiful woman stood beside him. Through tears of shame, Bethlyn pleaded with him to do the right thing and marry her, but Hawk threw back his head and laughed unpleasantly. “Silly wench,” he told her. “You’re already married. Take yourself and the brat off to your husband.” Then he kissed the woman and slammed the door in her face.

With a start, Bethlyn woke to discover that tears streamed down her cheeks, and though she attempted to control herself, she couldn’t stop crying. Finally she managed to halt her tears and climbed out of bed, only to discover that her flux had started. She began to cry anew, feeling like a helpless, spoiled child, and berated herself for her silliness. Over and over she told herself that she should be relieved she wasn’t pregnant.

~ ~ ~

For the next few days Bethlyn contented herself in the kitchen. Each morning Mrs. Tolliver appeared with the necessary foodstuffs and instructed her how to bake breads, muffins, cook fish and soups. One evening she served Hawk a bowl of wine-berry soup and felt quite gratified when he asked for seconds.

One morning Mrs. Tolliver appeared with her grandson, a sturdy-looking boy of about twelve, named Nate. Nate watched attentively while his grandmother instructed Bethlyn until he grew bored and sauntered onto the beach.

Mrs. Tolliver shook her head in dismay. “That Nate is a problem child, I tell you. My husband and I don’t know what to do about him since his parents died. My son was his father, you know. He and my daughter-in-law were killed in a sailing accident two years ago.” Her eyes misted over with tears for a moment “Nate is all we have left of them, but he wants to go to sea, and I fear one day he will. He’s much too young to think of such a thing, and with the unrest on the seas right now, I hate to dwell on what might happen to him if he decides to take off on his own in a year or so.”

Having seen the outside world, Bethlyn realized that Nate probably hungered for more than this tiny island. She didn’t blame him in that respect. The island, she found, was quite nice, or that portion of what she’d seen of it. However, she knew a larger and more exciting world awaited Nate than Windhaven. Yet she also knew how important a family could be to a growing youngster, never having had the opportunity to win her father’s love and admiration.

“Does Nate have any chores to occupy himself?” Bethlyn asked,

Mrs. Tolliver nodded, but added, “Only the usual things. He helps my husband catch cod and mackerel, but he stays at home when Jack brings the catch to Philadelphia.”

A warning bell sounded in Bethlyn’s head. “How far is Windhaven from Philadelphia?” she asked offhandedly while she pared a potato, hoping that Mrs. Tolliver didn’t hear the anticipation in her voice.

“Hmm, I’m not certain. It takes Jack only three days to take the catch to the market there and return home. Windhaven is quite near the Delaware and New Jersey shorelines, so Jack sails up the Delaware River.”

This geographical information meant very little to Bethlyn, who was unschooled in the area, but she did guess that Philadelphia was about a day’s sail from the island. She stored all she’d heard in the back of her mind, keeping it for future use.

“Perhaps Nate might like to accompany his grandfather on his trips to the city. I’ve heard Philadelphia is an exciting place and might allay his wanderlust.”

“Yes, Beth, you might be right. I’ll speak to Jack about taking Nate with him on his next trip.”

Mrs. Tolliver smiled warmly at Bethlyn, and she smiled back. Perhaps she’d get away from Hawk and Windhaven yet, she found herself thinking. Then Mrs. Tolliver kindly invited Bethlyn and Hawk to supper that night, and Bethlyn found she couldn’t refuse the woman’s polite invitation. However, she wasn’t certain Hawk would be there since he hadn’t slept at home the last few days. Later, after Mrs. Tolliver had left, she finished baking a batch of cookies and called to Nate, who waited on the beach.

Eagerly he munched on two cookies at once when Bethlyn offered them to him. She sat beside him on the beach and delighted in the warm sun on her face and the incredible blue of the sky. Windhaven was a place of enchantment, but to her it seemed a prison.

“Do you have a boat?” Bethlyn asked Nate.

Nate shook his head. “Naw, but my grandpa does.”

“Is it a large boat?”

“Sort of.”

“Your grandmother told me that he usually goes to Philadelphia to sell his catch. How often does he go?”

Nate considered for a moment. “Two more weeks, I think. He came back a few days ago, and he goes about twice a month. Why are you so interested?” He reached for another cookie on the plate which rested on the sand between them.

“Just curious about everyone on the island,” Bethlyn told him and changed the subject to the beautiful weather. She doubted the child would become curious as to why she pumped him for information, but she didn’t want to take the chance that he might very well mention to Hawk or someone else about her interest in his grandfather’s schedule and boat.

Two more weeks before Mr. Tolliver left for Philadelphia. She hated herself for making friends with Nate only to use him later, but her hands perspired in anticipation of escaping Hawk.

~ ~ ~

That same afternoon Nate escorted her to the Village.

Bethlyn found the village of Windhaven to be quite small. About fifteen wooden houses dotted the landscape, and huge sand dunes rose like pyramids in the distance. Small boats bobbed by a dock and Nate introduced her to one of the fishermen who sat on his boat as his grandfather. Jack Tolliver was as friendly and kind as his wife, and he regaled her and Nate with tales of the sea for an hour. Bethlyn listened with interest, but her eyes rested covetously on the boat. Two more weeks, two more weeks, her mind repeated over and over.