The Captain's Caress (41 page)

“And you think the earl acted like a Christian when he shot him in the back?” exclaimed Summer, shaken by spasms as she remembered those last horrible minutes on Biscay Island.

Bridgit side stepped the question. “I don’t know what happened because I wasn’t there, so I can’t set myself up as a judge of other people’s actions. But I stick to it that the earl had a right to protect you. A man can’t just up and make off with another man’s wife, and a good thing it is too. You’ve got to obey the laws, I always say, even when you don’t like them.”

“You’ll never understand,” Summer moaned. “You’ll never understand at all.”

“Many’s the girl that has married a man she didn’t know and lived to bless the day,” persevered Bridgit. “We can’t all go about taking husbands of our own choosing. Lordy, what a mess that would be. Leave it to the parents, I say. They know something of the world and its ways.”

“All they understand is money and power,” Summer protested, but the laudanum was beginning to take hold and her words were slightly slurred. “No one cares about me.”

“You have a nice sleep, milady.” Bridgit covered her with the blankets. “You’ll feel much better when you’ve had your rest.”

“You don’t understand,” Summer mumbled. “Nobody understands.”

“You close your eyes. Things will look better in the morning.” Bridgit repeated the words like a litany, and Summer’s eyelids gradually drooped until at last she was asleep. Bridgit adjusted the pillows under her head and tried to make her more comfortable.

“Poor thing, you’ve had a right cruel time of it, and you so pretty I sometimes can’t believe you’re real.” She stroked Summer’s brow, drawing the matted chestnut hair back from her face. “You might have been happier if you’d been plain. At least these wicked men wouldn’t be acting like heathens, killing and stealing like they never heard of the Ten Commandments. You mark my words, old man Satan is going to have new souls for his fiery brimstone before long.”

Summer, ostensibly the one for whom these stern words were intended, had fallen into the uneasy sleep that had sustained her throughout the voyage. She had never been fat, but she was mere skin and bones now. It won’t do any good to force her to eat, Bridgit thought to herself, it would just come back within the hour. Even the sailors had been looking a little green during this latest spell of heavy weather. It was Bridgit’s opinion that if God had meant for men to be going about on water all the time, He would have given them fins. Surely this foul weather was a judgment.

Bridgit settled back into her chair, draped herself with several shawls, and covered her legs with a thick blanket. Barely ten minutes passed before a sharp knock sounded at the door. “Drat the man,” she grumbled. “Why can’t he learn to leave well enough alone?” The knock came again, more impatiently this time.

“I’m coming,” she hissed. “Leave off that knocking.” She unbolted the door and stepped out into the passageway.

“I’m coming in,” said the earl. “I have no intention of conversing with you in the passageway like a servant.”

“This is the first good sleep she’s had in days,” Bridgit objected.

“That may well be, but the only time I’m allowed to enjoy my wife’s company is when I come unbidden to her cabin.” He peered at the sleeping girl. “I begin to wonder if she will ever rise from that bed.”

“The countess is a lot stronger than you think, but it’s a miracle she hasn’t died, what with being locked up in this cold, damp cabin and her used to nothing but hot breezes.”

“She’ll have to get used to the cold when she gets to Scotland.”

“But she ought to do it gradually, and not while she’s so sick. Please, sir, let me have a heater. It’s getting colder every day and we still have some weeks to go yet.” When Gowan looked mulishly at his sleeping wife, Bridgit added, “It may be the only way to get her to Scotland alive.”

“She doesn’t look very good,” he agreed. “Are you sure she’s all right?”

“The laudanum makes her breath heavy, but she can’t sleep without it.”

“Is she still carrying on about that outlaw?” he asked bitterly.

“Mostly she talks about you.”

“You don’t have to tell me what she says,” Gowan growled. “I heard quite enough that first night. She has some hard lessons ahead.”

“I hope your lordship means to take pity on her.”

“I’m not going to beat her, if that’s what you mean. But she will have to learn that I’m her husband and that I insist upon being treated with respect.”

“I’ve been trying to bring her around to that, sir. Over and over I’ve told her the young captain had no right to steal her away from her rightful husband. You have to respect God’s laws, I tell her, and abide by your father’s decision.”

“And what does she say?”

“It’s not so much what she says as what she does. She begins to cry and talk about your murdering that poor boy.”

“Have the kindness to refrain from calling me a murderer,” Gowan ordered with cold fury. “That
poor boy
was a condemned killer and an international outlaw. Had he been taken alive, his death would certainly have been prolonged and considerably more painful. You might even say that I did him a service, though an unintentional one, in giving him a quick end.”

“I’m sure he would agree with you,” said Bridgit persevering in spite of the hopelessness of her task. “But the countess doesn’t see it that way, and while she so sick it’s hard to make her see reason.”

“She must be made to understand.”

“She has to get well first, and she can’t when she’s wrapped up in a dozen quilts, her wits chattering in her head, and her body shaken by the sickness.”

“You can have your infernal heater, but see that you don’t set the ship on fire.”

“I know how to use a heater,” Bridgit replied stiffly. “Probably better than those wicked devils you have running this ship.”

“If you did your work as well as those
wicked devils,
the countess would be sitting up in her bed and inviting me to spend the evening at her side instead of looking like she’s ready for a winding sheet.”

“You can thank me that she hasn’t been laid out already,” said Bridgit, firing up. “And we’re not home yet, not by a long shot.”

Chapter 35

After long hours of silence, faint sounds of movement within the house brought Smith awake; he yawned silently, and with stiff, noiseless movements walked over to the window. Already the first orange and pink rays of sunlight were lightening the surface of the sea. Another day was beginning; another night-long vigil had come to an end.

Smith’s gaze went to the huge bed on which Brent lay motionless, his life hanging by the fragile thread that had kept him alive these past weeks. They kept a constant watch over him, the doctor and Pedro by day and Smith by night. Every sound, every shuddering breath, brought one of them to his side.

“I don’t know how he holds on,” the doctor remarked in amazement several times a day.

“I told you the captain wouldn’t die,” Smith always replied.

“But he’s just as near dead as he was when that bullet tore into his back,” the doctor would argue.

“He’ll live.”

“Maybe.”

Chapter 36

Unable to sit still for more than a minute, Summer wandered aimlessly about the cabin, fidgeting with anything within her reach and biting her lips until they were ready to bleed. She pulled at the tie of her best robe, a loose-fitting, frilly lace wrapper of bright yellow.

“If you don’t calm yourself, milady, you’ll be worn out before the earl gets here,” warned Bridgit.

“I’m too nervous,” Summer insisted, her drawn face and sunken eyes giving her the look of a tormented spirit.

“You don’t have to be upset on account of the earl. He’s been very tolerant of your illness, and I don’t expect him to go changing now.”

That wasn’t why she was upset, but Summer didn’t feel she could share the true cause of her agitation with Bridgit. From the moment she had been well enough to think of anything other than her nausea and her aching body, she had been preoccupied with worry over the future of her unborn child. Miraculously she was still small, but it was too late to think of passing the baby off as the earl’s child even if she could have forced herself to let him touch her. She had to find another way, but what?

Maybe she could throw herself on his mercy. She was prepared to promise anything as long as she could keep her child, but did she really believe he would allow another man’s child to be reared as his first born, especially after he learned that Brent was the father?

A voice inside her screamed that she was a fool to think the earl would allow her to keep the baby, but she refused to accept the evidence she had of his unforgiving, vindictive character. She told herself that she hardly knew him. Surely there was a way to persuade him if she just approached him at the right time and in the right way.

Maybe he would let her go. She didn’t know what she would do, but she was prepared to face any peril for the sake of Brent’s child. There was no possibility that she could pay Gowan back—Ashton wouldn’t give up the money even if he still had it—but she was ready to work on her hands and knees for the rest of her life if it would save her son.

Bridgit had worked to get Summer to accept her husband for weeks, but now when it seemed that she was about to do just that, the older woman could not dispel the feeling that this was
not
what Summer intended to do.

“I don’t know what she’s planning,” fretted Bridgit as she tidied up, “but it isn’t natural for a woman fixing to eat dinner with her husband to act like every sound signifies the coming of Lucifer himself.”

“That was a excellent dinner, my dear,” Gowan said as Bridgit removed his plate and set out the brandy. “It confirms me in my opinion that I did well to come after you.”

“You were undecided?” Summer asked.

“From the wild story Brinklow told me, I supposed you to have been carried off by no less than a thousand ferocious savages. I was sure you’d be dead long before I could reach you. And even if you were alive, I suspected it would be impossible to overcome such a force as he described. It wasn’t until the next day that the quaking fool remembered to give me Brent’s message, and then I knew he’d exaggerated. I also knew that I had to move with great speed if I was to reach you before the good captain had time to work his mischief.”

“Mischief?”

“I doubted Captain Douglas could be depended upon to honor the bonds of decency. It seemed to me he would never be so foolish as to abuse you at sea and not share his good fortune with the crew, and I greatly feared for your safety once he had you on his island.” Summer didn’t trust herself to comment. Voicing any of the words that fought for utterance would render her task hopeless.

“I had acted as his guardian after his father died. The young hothead lacked the mettle to do more than strangle an old drunk.” If Gowan had thought to look at Summer, rather than his brandy, he might never have finished his speech. Implacable hatred was reflected in her eyes.

“The captain was very protective of me,” Summer stated, trembling from the effort to keep her voice steady. “He only took me to Biscay Island after a caballero tried to molest me.”

“He was just protecting his investment,” Gowan replied indifferently.

“The captain treated me like an honored guest, not a prisoner to be ransomed.”

“It’s the custom to treat captives of high rank as honored guests,” Gowan declared, and his oily superiority made Summer long to claw at his scar. “Brent Douglas may be a spineless fool, but he was brought up a gentleman.”

“What would you have done if he had abused me?”

Gowan’s third brandy caused him to miss the tension in Summer’s voice. “Sooner or later I would have hunted him down and killed him.” His scar curled menacingly.

“And me?” she said softly. “What would you have done about me?”

“I would not have recognized you. It is unthinkable that I should acknowledge a wife who had been dishonored by Brent Douglas.”

The sound of her beloved’s name on Gowan’s lips cut Summer to the quick. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover a tiny moan.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes. I fear my digestion is not yet used to such rich foods.”

“Allow me to turn your thoughts to something more pleasant.” He rose from his chair. “This is a small gift I slipped into my pocket to bring along.” Gowan took a large case from his coat as he came toward her. “It’s not an heirloom, but it’s a nice little set.” Summer nearly stopped breathing when he opened the case. Lying on a piece of white satin was a great ruby necklace set in a heavy gold-and-diamond setting. “You might say it’s a wedding gift.” Try as she might Summer could not keep from recoiling.

“You needn’t be reluctant to wear it.” Gowan misread her reaction. “It’s yours. And so are these.” He produced a second case which contained a pair of earrings and a bracelet, also rubies, diamonds, and gold. “And this too.” He reached for yet a third case which contained a huge brooch; Summer was speechless. “How do you like them?”

“They are stunning,” she gasped, awed by the sheer extravagance of so many jewels. “They must have cost as much as you paid for me.”