Swept Away By a Kiss (44 page)

“He is only concerned for my welfare.”

Maximin’s dark gaze narrowed. “As is another dear to both of us,
mademoiselle
. Which, of course, is why I have come here.”

Valerie waited mutely. She had ached all day to ask him a hundred questions about Steven. Now that the moment arrived, her tongue tangled.

“Last April I was obliged to go ashore to arrange certain matters,” Maximin said. “During my absence our first mate, Fevre, intentionally lost the
Blackhawk
to Bebain at cards. Bebain came aboard with additional crew members of his own. We had learned that Bebain was Clifford Hannsley’s man, and when I returned and found circumstances as they were, I saw this as opportunity. After we met with Raymer’s ship as planned, Etienne was not as pleased. Naturally, this was because of you.”

Valerie’s brow puckered. “It was not my idea to be kidnapped.”

“I believed Bebain’s men could be more easily subdued with him dead rather than captive,” Maximin continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “Etienne disagreed with me, as I expected him to. More importantly, he disagreed with me concerning nearly everything since the moment you came aboard our ship.”

“That’s why you seemed so angry with him that day on deck, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“You have no love for me, do you?”

He cocked an amused brow. “Are you so greedy for it,
mademoiselle
, that you insist upon both of ours?”

Valerie’s heart sped. “I disrupted your plans.”

He stepped toward her. “I have known Etienne since we were boys. We have battled side by side for justice. We are bound through those trials more than any who share the same parents.”

Valerie tried to nod, but apprehension paralyzed her.

“In October it came time to send our associate here to complete the work we began long ago,” Maximin said, “to retrieve Hannsley’s documents and put the letter which Lady March was meant to have taken from you into the appropriate hands. At this time, contrary to our plans, Etienne told me he would come here himself. He told me he had been given a responsibility for others with his title of nobility, and that he must make arrangements before he was free again to continue our work.”

Under the Haitian’s steady regard, Valerie shivered, waiting.

“Until then,” Maximin finally said, “he never told me he was an English lord.”

Valerie stood still as a sail on a windless day.

“But he left me,” she whispered.

“He believes you wish to remain in this world of comfort with your loved ones. He seeks to protect you from danger, and he wants your happiness. My friend is wise in many things,
mademoiselle
. But sometimes he can be a great fool.” A gentle smile played upon Maximin’s lips. “We sail for America in two weeks’ time, but I do not travel with a whole man on this journey. On this island that is no longer his home, he leaves behind his heart.”

Chapter 42

T
he Earl of Alverston nodded at Maximin. “The carriage should make good time on muddy roads,
monsieur
.”

Tears rolled down Anna’s cheeks but she smiled gamely. Valerie took her friend’s hands and drew them to her cheek.

“Oh, dearest,” she said. “Do stop crying. I promise I will visit someday. I must meet my nephew, after all.” She drew back, her own smile wavering. “Or niece.”

“God forbid it’s a girl,” Valentine muttered. A grin creased Maximin’s mouth. Anna choked upon another sob.

Valerie put her hands into her brother’s and let him draw her into his embrace.

“Godspeed, dear sister,” he said gruffly. “I expect you will get into a great deal of trouble and have many adventures. But you may as well do it on the other side of the ocean as here. I will miss you.” When he released her, tears dampened Valerie’s cheeks. She turned quickly away from her family and toward the waiting carriage.

Portsmouth stretched out in the spectacular array of a kingdom at home upon the sea. Ships dotted the harbor. Dozens of others rested in berths along the quay, active with the business of loading and unloading cargo, and uniformed soldiers were everywhere. The salty wind whisking across the water buffeted Valerie as her gaze sought the only vessel that mattered to her.

Maximin touched her arm. She turned to follow his gaze. Not far along the quay, a familiar, sleek ship sat abreast the dock, two banners waving from its mizzenmast: one white; the other blue and red, its center emblazoned with cannon, palm trees, flags, and words she could not decipher from the distance.

As though he read her thoughts, Maximin said quietly, “The motto upon the flag of the Republic of Haiti reads
L’Union Fait la Force
. Our union makes our strength.” He turned to her. “Go,
mademoiselle
, and make strength.”

Taking a deep breath, Valerie strode up the dock toward the
Blackhawk
, her heart pounding. Mounting the gangplank, she didn’t hesitate, sending herself up to the spar deck and scanning the ship swiftly as she went. A handful of barrels and crates littered the boards at the hatchway amidships, waiting to be hauled below. A pair of hands worked at the lines stretching to the bow.

A man in a neat overcoat approached.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I am Sainte, first mate on this vessel. May I be of assistance?”

“I am looking for your master.”

“Ah,” Sainte shook his head. “You have just missed him. He has already departed.”

“Departed?” Valerie’s breath left her. “But where—” She swiveled around to look for Maximin, and her gaze met Steven’s.

Like that first moment in Boston months earlier, he stood upon the dock staring up at her. But this time there was no trace of the priest about him, or even the nobleman. In buckskin breeches and a dark coat, with his shirt open at the neck and his hair shining like gilded bronze in the winter sunlight, he was all sailor.

Valerie’s heart turned over so hard her knees buckled.

“Ah, there he is.” The mate bowed and continued across the deck.

Valerie gazed at the man upon the dock, no longer a stranger, but achingly, deliciously familiar. Her entire body trembled with anticipation as Steven looked at her for what seemed endless minutes. Finally, he climbed the gangplank and stepped onto the deck.

Valerie stretched out her palm and swung. He caught her wrist and pulled it between them. A breathtaking, one-sided grin curved his lips.

“You may well have the right to strike me, dear lady. And more.” His rich voice tumbled through her, his touch filling her with warmth. “But not on my ship and in front of my men.”

Valerie took a breath and squared her shoulders. “I am coming with you.”

His smile broadened. “I have wished for nothing else.”

“You what?
What
?”

Steven’s brow wrinkled. Valerie had never seen consternation upon his face. It looked beautiful, as everything did.

“Do you doubt it?”

“Of course I doubt it,” she exclaimed. “You insulted me then you left me.
Again
!”

“I had business to see to.”

“Business?” Valerie spluttered.

“Indeed, I have been considerably occupied,” he said with exasperating calm. “You know perfectly well that I needed to secure matters regarding our friend the marquess.”

“Yes, but I don’t see why you could not have—”

“I was also very busy trying to convince myself that I could live without you.”

Valerie’s heart stopped. Steven’s strong grasp slipped around her hand, his fingers lacing through hers.

She swallowed. “And did you—convince yourself, that is?”

His gaze was fierce, the gold flecks in his eyes lit with fire. “I am sorry I hurt you, Valerie. More sorry than you can possibly know.”

For the first time in a life filled with daring escapades and scandalous adventures, Valerie’s courage deserted her.

“Your mate says you are leaving,” she managed. “Where are you going?”

Steven’s hand tightened around hers. “To retrieve you.”

“To retrieve me?”

“No doubt you are happier to have come by your own choice.” His half smile flickered again as he reached to untie her bonnet ribbons. “I have never met a woman more in possession of her own will.”

“What are you doing?” she asked dazedly. He drew her into his arms. Valerie’s whole being sang to life, tingling everywhere she fit against him.

“Removing this ridiculous thing.” He dropped her bonnet to the deck. “I am going to kiss you now in full sight of anyone passing by.”

“I will be compromised,” she whispered, her hands slipping to his shoulders. “Ruined. Finally.”

Steven bent his head. “I depend upon it,” he murmured, and met her lips. Valerie sighed, melting into his kiss. He deepened it, and his arms tightened, as though holding her against escape. But Valerie didn’t want to escape, she never had.

“But, Steven.” She gasped in a mouthful of air, smiling. “Not on your ship and in front of your men.”

“My ship and my men be damned,” he said huskily against her brow, then kissed it, and her eyes, cheeks, and mouth again. His lips lingered and his hands upon her back held her firmly against him. “How did you know I was here, my sweet Valerie?”

She drew away only enough to trace the planes of his face with her gaze, to assure herself she did not dream.

“Maximin came to Alverston Hall.” She turned. Mabel stood alone at the edge of the wharf. The maid grinned and came up the gangplank. Valerie made a sound of protest when Steven released her, but he kept his hand wrapped around hers as he turned to Mabel.

“Good afternoon,
mademoiselle
,” he said, bowing. Mabel returned it with a curtsy and a blush. She held out a folded piece of paper.

“Mr. Panthère said he had to be off, but that I was to give you this, milord.”

Steven took the paper from the girl’s grasp. His gaze remained on hers a moment longer. A quick, wordless communication passed between them before Mabel shook her head. Then she curtsied again and moved away, her eyes widening as she looked about at the ship. Grinning, she dropped her bandbox upon the deck and moved toward the sailors at the bow.

Valerie stared in amazement. “What on earth did you two just say to each other?” she demanded, trying to pull her hand from Steven’s.

He gripped her fingers and drew her back into his embrace. Her body quivered as awareness dawned upon her lovely face.

“You employed my own maid to spy on me, didn’t you?” she exclaimed.

Steven smiled in sheer satisfaction. This woman would never be deceived again, and he could not be happier about it.

“Yes,” he replied, “although I would not quite phrase it that way.”

“Aha. The truth so quickly offered?”

“Always, now.”

She smoothed her fingers across his cheek, and her gaze sought his, brimming with trust. “No more lies,” she whispered.

Relief washed through him. He slid his hands down her back to feel her body, to claim her again.

“In the spirit of truth, Monsieur Sailor,” she murmured against his jaw, “what would you have done if I had not come here, and Mabel reported to you that I was increasing?”

“I would have forced you to wed me.” He kissed her. Her soft lips and questing tongue tasted like sea air and desire. Trailing caresses across her brow and the bridge of her nose, he drank in her scent, every silken curve of skin and bone of this perfect woman. His woman, finally.

“And what will you do now that you know I am not?” she said as he kissed her neck and his body hardened, wanting her as he always did.