The Infamous Rogue (3 page)

“What do you want, Black Hawk?”
He bristled.
Why did you leave me?
But he would sooner saw off his tongue than beg for an answer. Besides, it was clear to him now: she had no heart.
“Where have you been these last seven years?” he said darkly.
Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, a bewitching shade of rich toffee brown. “In Jamaica. Where else?”
“Liar.”
She stiffened.
“I stayed on the island for months after our affair ended.” He would not confess he had spent the months searching the island for her—or that he had dreamed about her for the last seven bloody years. He whispered, “I would have spotted you.”
She shivered; the tremors pulsed against his fingertips. “I was living with my father. You know he was the unreasonably suspicious sort. We moved away from his home in the mountains and went into hiding. I remained with him until his death before I sailed to England.”
The stiffness in his jaw softened. “Your father was a good man.”
“Only you and I would think so.”
True. A black-hearted devil, Patrick Dawson wasn’t the kind of bloke to make friends easily…but he had befriended Drake Hawkins, James’s father—and saved him from a life of slavery. And for that James would be forever grateful to the man.
Sophia steadied her voice. It almost sounded cordial. “I propose a truce.”
He about snorted with laughter. She had threatened him with betrayal, sliced his chin, and now she wanted to be friends? Horseshit! She only wanted him to keep her dark secrets. Her attempt to intimidate him with violence had failed. Now she hoped to persuade him to keep his distance with an offer of peace.
“You and I should not be enemies,” she said in a measured tone. “We are both in society for the same reason.”
He gritted, “I’m not searching for a wife.”
“But you are searching for acceptance, aren’t you? To protect your sister?”
She was a cunning witch. With grace she had paired them both as kindred folk, making their way through society to achieve similar goals. Whereas he needed to safeguard his sister’s reputation, Sophia needed the approval from the superficial
ton
to become a countess.
But he was not so easily duped.
“In honor of our late fathers’ friendship,” she said, “surely we can forget about the past?”
Forget about the past?
Not in everlasting hell.
Chapter 3
“H
ow dare he!” Lady Lucas crossed the fine patterned rug—and crossed it again. She twisted the lacy kerchief around her finger, and pinched her brows. “The…the beast.”
It was a gloomy morning. A slow drizzle streaked the windows, dampening Sophia’s mood even more. She missed the sun, missed feeling the warm rays touch her cheeks and lighten her heart. If only the shower would end and the clouds disband. She was convinced her disposition would then improve. The tedious pattern of raindrops slowly stripped her spirit, her sharpness of mind even. She wanted to slip back into her room, snuggle under the covers, and dream…about James.
She shut her eyes tight, willing away the vivifying image of him in her mind. She thought instead about the man’s boorish behavior last night, his scandalous remarks. Quickly the heat in her belly weakened, replaced by a darker sentiment.
I can still see who you are, Sophia. You cannot hide behind layers of satin and fool me.
She opened her eyes and fisted the fabric of her leafy green day dress. He might destroy her. One word from his sensual lips, one whisper of impropriety, and her dream of respectability would be dashed.
Damn him to hell!
Lady Lucas touched her brow in a frantic gesture. “He’ll ruin everything!”
Yes, James would ruin everything, she thought. He would stomp and maim all her hopes for a better future. The blackguard had a hard heart. He wasn’t one to forgive a past transgression.
Would you like me to confess my sins, Sophia? Would you like me to reveal my transgressions…with you?
Sophia balled her fists. What did the devil want from her? To humiliate her publicly? Did he loathe her so much? Enough to put his own neck in a noose? For Sophia intended to keep her vow and see him hang if he ravaged all her hopes and dreams.
But if James outed her first, his neck in a noose would be poor comfort. She needed to convince the man to keep quiet
before
the murmur of scandal rounded the society pages. But how? He had rebuffed her proposal for a truce last night. Not in words, for he’d remained reticent about the idea. But she had recognized that “over my dead body” gleam in his eyes. He was such a stubborn, vengeful brute. Any other man might consider her proposal beneficial, even honorable…but not the pirate captain. She had to convince James some other way to keep her secret.
“We must spur the earl’s affection for you.” Lady Lucas collapsed in a nearby chair, her dark brow fixed in meditation. “He must propose to you at the house party.”
A sound plan. Sophia didn’t voice her sentiment aloud, though. She permitted the matron of nine-and-forty years to scheme in peace. She depended upon the counsel of Lady Lucas. Without her guidance, she was lost. The strict rules of etiquette baffled her, repulsed her at times.
But Sophia had learned to stifle her inappropriate impulses. She was not on the island anymore. The freedom to do as she pleased was a thing of the past. She didn’t mind, though. Her reckless desires had only brought her misery. She was keen to be rid of them, to repress her natural tendencies. She intended to trade her wild whims for the respectability of a wife: a countess. It was a simple swap in her mind, well worth the effort and funds she had already devoted to the aspiration.
“We mustn’t let the earl think another man is courting you.” Lady Lucas stamped her fist on her knee. “Lord Baine is a gentleman. He might step aside if he believes the captain is interested in you…or he might search elsewhere for a bride if he thinks you are attached to the captain.” She sighed loudly. “If only the barbarian had not asked you to dance!”
Sophia remained mum about her former, illicit affair with said barbarian. Lady Lucas would have an apoplexy if she ever discovered her ward’s sinful past.
“If only the barbarian wasn’t coming to the house party!”
Blood pulsed to Sophia’s temples. Her fingers tingled. She imagined the scorn, the cold snubs if lurid word ever reached the ears of the
ton.
The vibrant sounds and flashes of color beset her mind, making her sweat.
“Don’t fret about the earl, my dear.” Lady Lucas softened her voice and composed her features. “I can repair any damage, I assure you.”
Sophia had faith in the widow’s matchmaking skills. She was a highly regarded member of the gentry, albeit a poor one. After the death of her husband, Lady Lucas had slipped into the dreaded sin of poverty. Even her lofty name was not able to save her from the depths of ostracism and ignominy. But Sophia had offered the woman a considerable fortune to introduce her to society, to find her a respectable husband. Now each woman was dependent on the other for her happiness.
“You must write to Lady Rosamond.” The matron slipped from the chair and took her by the wrist. She quickly escorted Sophia across the room to the writing desk. “You must tell the young woman you enjoyed His Lordship’s ball. With each word of praise and adoration, she will suspect your attachment to her brother.” Lady Lucas removed the quill from the inkstand and handed it to her. “I will dictate.”
But Sophia only stared at the long, white feather, an uncomfortable shiver pressing on her spine. She could
not
write the letter. She was literate, however she possessed a disability. And if the matron ever discovered what it was…
“I think it better if you write the letter, Lady Lucas.”
“Nonsense, my dear. Lady Rosamond thinks highly of your character. We will be far more productive if you write to her as a friend.”
Sophia frowned. “I must insist, Lady Lucas. It might seem pretentious if I admit my feelings about her brother, even in a subtle manner.”
“You will banter with her. Gossip. A young lady loves to share
on-dit
with a trusted acquaintance.”
“Even so, she might take offense. She might con sider the subject matter too delicate. However, she would not rebuff the compliments of a lady of your distinction.”
Lady Lucas appeared to mull over the argument before she bobbed her head in brisk accord. “Your good sense does you credit, Miss Dawson. You should not risk upsetting the cordial bond between you and Lady Rosamond. I will write the letter.”
As soon as the matron took a seat and flicked her wrist in a sweeping gesture, Sophia sighed. She had averted one disaster by refusing to write the letter. She was confident Lady Lucas would avert another by writing a fastidiously worded letter…now Sophia need only silence Black Hawk.

“Good morning, Sophia.” James stroked the long curve of her spine with the tips of his fingers. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”
There was a sharp rap at the door.
James grimaced. The rapping resounded in his head, tender after last night’s drinking binge. He growled, “Go away.”
The door opened.
William sauntered inside the bedroom, looking cross.
“Get out, Will.”
“We’re not aboard the
Bonny Meg,
James. I don’t take orders here.”
James glowered. Aboard ship the captain had privacy. No one dared to enter the cabin uninvited. And no one dared to disobey an order. But here at the house in London, James was forced to associate with family, not crew. Here in St. James’s, his sober and obedient lieutenant routinely transformed into an impudent and scolding sibling.
William slowly approached him. “You vowed not to cause a stir at the ball.”
“I didn’t cause a stir,” he said in a sluggardly manner.
“So why are people whispering?”
James ignored his brother and continued to rub Sophia’s back.
William rounded the table and paused in front of the window. He wasn’t as big as James, but he was still wide enough to obstruct the weak, silvery light creeping in through the drapery. “Will you take your eyes off that damn creature and answer me?”
It was already a misty morning. William’s shadow cooled the room even more, casting Sophia in darkness.
Gently James returned the iron lid over the glass case, securing the cold-blooded snake in her aquarium. “What the hell do you want from me, Will?”
“An oath.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It appears Dawson’s daughter is set to stay in society, so I want you to promise me you won’t make an ass of yourself every time she appears in the room.”
James bristled. The pounding impulse to strike his brother soundly in the teeth gripped him. He shrugged off the savage desire. Instead he moved toward the washstand.
James dipped his hands into the shallow basin, and slapped the cold water over his warm features. He rubbed his face, listless with fatigue and too much drink. But the memory of his stormy encounter with Sophia last night still burned in his head. Had he really made an ass of himself?
“I know you’re angry with Sophia for leaving you—”
“You don’t know shit.”
“—but you have to keep a cap on your temper. You can’t disgrace Belle.”
James rubbed his throbbing brow before he snatched a towel. “Didn’t we have this blasted conversation last night?”
“Fat lot of good it did. Gossip says you’re smitten with ‘Miss Dawson.’”
James wiped his face and gritted, “I’m not smitten with the witch.”
“Then why are you going to the earl’s country house party? You hate being in society.”
“Go to hell.”
James dropped the towel and stalked across the room. He was dressed in only a pair of trousers, and with the linens still rumpled, the bed looked very inviting.
He stretched across the messy feather tick with a loud sigh, and crossed his ankles. He closed his eyes, too.
“What are you going to do at the house party?” said William.
“Eat.”
“Eat who?”
James humphed. “If you’re suggesting I’m going to the house party to cause a scandal, I’m not.”
But William sounded unconvinced. “Why don’t you write to the earl and cancel the trip? Visit with Cora instead. Then you can get the frustration out of your blood and forget about Sophia.”
Forget about Sophia? Did the man really think a roll in the sheets with a whore was going to satisfy the dark fire burning in his belly?
He remembered the sultry look in Sophia’s fine eyes, the sharp arch in her brows. He remembered the thrilling feel of her round and seductive curves pressed firmly against him, and the smoldering texture to her sassy voice.
James girded himself against the arousal slowly burning in his blood. No. A tumble in bed with Cora wasn’t going to slake the lust in his belly…only Sophia could do that.
“No,” said James. “I’m going to the house party.”
William’s footsteps drummed in his ears. He heard the chair legs scrape across the hardwood flooring as William swiveled the seat and sat down.
“I know you’re having a wretched time attending parties, James. And Sophia’s return only makes matters worse. But we’ve all had to adjust to the tiresome antics of the
ton
since retiring from piracy.”
What did his brothers have to adjust to? They flirted and danced and charmed the society wenches with aplomb. The men even dined and gambled and snorted snuff with the rest of the peerage with considerable ease.
William suggested, “Look at Belle.”
“Look at Belle?” He opened one eye to glare at his brother. “We’re putting ourselves through this hell for her.”
“Yes, but she had to adapt to her new life, too.”
“How?”
“She had to start wearing a dress, for one.”
James snorted and closed his eye again. “She should have been wearing one from girlhood.”
“With four brothers, a father, and no mother for guidance?”
James stiffened at the mention of their mother. She had died in childbirth to Quincy, leaving a four-year- old Belle without a proper female example. But something more haunted him…
One thought about his mother was like losing his footing and slipping from a cliff. His thoughts tumbled backward with speed and he remembered the low sobs coming from her room when he was just a boy: sobs for his father, recently pressed into service by the navy.
Long before Mirabelle, Edmund, and Quincy had come along, Megan Hawkins had been alone with two small boys and no money or means of support.
You must help me, James.
She had stroked his then four-year-old head with frantic regard.
You must help me now that Papa is gone. I need you, James. I can’t take care of you and William by myself. You will help Mama, won’t you, James?
James dismissed the disturbing memory with a quiet shudder.
“Belle had to wear breeches,” said William. “There was no way to avoid it with so many men afoot. But now she’s more comfortable with her new position as duchess. And you’ll eventually grow accustomed to being brother-in-law to a duke.”
Why did that sound so ominous? James kneaded the pulsing spot at the crown of his nose. Trouble was, he didn’t want to grow accustomed to such a stiff existence. He didn’t want to pander to the nobs, to kneel before the pompous lords and ladies like a street urchin…but what choice did he have now that Belle was a duchess?
“Get out, Will. My head is throbbing.”
There was no sound of movement.
James opened his watery eyes to see his brother still seated in the chair. “What?” he snapped, and re gretted his clipped tone, for the pressure in his skull strengthened.
“There’s one other matter I need to discuss with you.”
James growled, wishing all his blasted relatives and their needs to damnation. “What is it?”
The door burst open.
Two strapping young bucks stomped into the bedroom, making all the furniture spin and dance.
James grabbed his head and stifled the roaring curse he was sure would do him in if he dared to voice it aloud.
“Did you see this morning’s paper?”
Quincy flapped the newsprint, making James dizzy. He shut his eyes and tried to ignore his brethren, but the youngest fledgling refused to be rebuffed.
Quincy smacked the captain across the bare feet with the paper. “Wake up, James. We’re famous—again!”
William quickly moved across the room and examined the paper. He sighed loudly. “Take a look at this, James.”
The newsprint shoved in his face, James eyed the bold headline. But the letters only twirled together in quick fashion. “Why don’t you just read it to me.”
It was Quincy who snatched the paper from William and cleared his throat to impart:
“The notorious pirate Black Hawk strikes again!”
James almost didn’t give a damn, he was so bloody fagged…almost. “Read on, Quincy.”
“The sea is once more plagued by the dreaded pirate Black Hawk and his wicked crew. After almost four years of unmolested travel, defenseless ships, like the
Lorianne,
are again in peril. Last sennight, the passenger vessel was raided by the marauding rogues and stripped of cargo and personal possessions. The gentlemen aboard remained stoic and brave, the ladies terribly frightened and clinging to their sides.”
The pages rustled as Quincy theatrically performed:
“When will the Royal Navy bring an end to the infamous bandits’ reign of terror? When will we have safe passage at sea? I call on you, faithful reader, to demand the pirate leader’s head. Only then will justice triumph and the seas be secure.”
Quincy beamed. “I’ve missed being in the paper.”
William ignored the quip and said, “That’s two reports in two months, James. First there was a group of miscreants bootlegging whiskey and rum in our names, and now there’s another band attacking passenger vessels.”
“They might be one and same,” suggested Edmund.
“That’s right,” chimed Quincy. “Do you remember the duke’s brother, Adam Westmore?”
James had coincidentally robbed the man as Black Hawk a few years ago—and Adam Westmore had maintained a grudge. He had hunted the
Bonny Meg
and its pirate crew for years, seeking vengeance. But once the two families had united in marriage, the lust for blood had ended and a tentative trust had formed.
Quincy scratched his chin. “Adam had stumbled upon a band of bootleggers while looking for us. Their leader was posing as you, James. ”
“Rumor of our ‘deaths’ might have inspired the bold cutthroats to adopt our personas and take all the credit,” said William.
“You mean blame,” groused Edmund. He settled in a chair and stretched out his long legs, looking much too comfortable, giving James the distinct impression he wasn’t going to get much peace that morning. “It hardly seems fair. Someone else gets all the spoils, yet we get all the fault.”
William said grimly, “What are we going to do about the impostors, James?”
“Ignore them.”
“We can’t ignore them,” returned William. “
We’re
the ones being accused of the raid.”
“So what?”
William frowned. “I know you’re still drunk, James, but can’t you see the pressing danger?”
James rubbed his aching temples. “I only see one pressing danger: three gutless brothers. Now get the hell out of my room. All of you.”
Only Quincy budged—to straddle a chair.
James growled. The buzzing voices, the snapping thoughts of Sophia danced in his head, making him more and more irascible.
“What if the authorities go looking for Black Hawk?” wondered William.
“Then they’re going to find the miscreant and hang
him.
” James inhaled a sharp breath to soothe the spiking pressure in his head. He said with less bite, “I still don’t see the bloody problem.”
Cool even under the captain’s fierce glare, William said in a reasonable manner, “The authorities might stumble upon the
real
Black Hawk and crew if they search for the impostors.”
“That’s not going to happen,” avowed James.
“Are you sure?” William folded his arms. “There are those who know our true identity and might betray us in the wake of the recent report.”
“Who? The duke?” James snorted. “He might be a bastard, but he loves Belle. He wouldn’t betray us, if only for her sake.”
Damian Westmore, the Duke of Wembury, was an infamous villain, dubbed the “Duke of Rogues” by his peers. James was still dumbfounded by his sister’s choice of a mate. She might as well have married the devil.
Women made such odd selections in partners, he thought, disgruntled. His sister had wedded a rogue. Sophia wanted to attach herself to a simpering fop. It defied logic, their choices in husbands.
It was better for a father to pair his daughter with the right man. Drake Hawkins would never have agreed to let Belle marry a scoundrel, James was sure. And Patrick Dawson would have disemboweled the irritating dandy Sophia had picked. A pity the two men were dead. They would have saved their senseless daughters from misfortune.
“I’m not talking about the duke,” said William. “I’m talking about Sophia.”
The dull pounding in James’s head surged. The hammering pulses blurred his dim vision even more.
Stay away from me, Black Hawk. If you try to foil my engagement with Maximilian, I’ll reveal your true identity; I’ll see you hang.
James gnashed his teeth at the foul memory.
“Sophia?” Quincy’s eyes rounded. “Dawson’s daughter is here in London?”
Even the grumpy Edmund appeared intrigued. “What is she doing in Town?”
“Husband hunting, of course.” William offered the captain a pointed look. “James and I met her last night at the ball. She wants to marry the Earl of Baine.”
“Who?” said Quincy.
“Our host last night, the Earl of Baine.”
Quincy shrugged.
So did Edmund. “Too many parties.”
“Never mind,” said William. “About Sophia?”
“Now that’s a bird.” The flirtatious Quincy grinned. “Exotic, fiery, playful. I was still a pup all those years ago in Jamaica, but if I had the chance to meet her now—”
“You’d…do…what?”
Quincy bit his tongue and wisely didn’t finish his lustful thought. Edmund smirked at his younger brother’s misstep, for James’s glower was murderous.
With the young upstart soundly muzzled, James fixed his eyes on William and said darkly, “What about Sophia?”
“Well, she didn’t seem very happy to see you last night.”
James stiffened. Blood hastened through his veins as he fingered the cut on his chin.
You belong in hell, Black Hawk.
“She might out us yet,” suggested William.
“She won’t.”
James was adamant. The brazen witch might threaten him and brandish her knife, but she wouldn’t betray his identity as Black Hawk. He sensed her heart was still loyal to her kind, even if she claimed otherwise.
There was a rap at the door.
The butler entered the bedroom without awaiting a proper invitation. He had learned long ago his four masters weren’t men of etiquette.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
The group hushed as the old man moved across the room, arm outstretched. He stopped in front of the aquarium, lifted the lid, and dropped the thrashing mouse inside the glass case before he secured the trapping again.
James eyed the frightened rodent as it circled the enclosure in a frantic bid to escape. Sophia remained curled in an idle sleep, though. She would soon stir and devour the hapless creature…but not before she had tortured its senses.
The snake was very much like her namesake, James reflected with a grim smile.
As soon as the butler had departed from the room, William pressed onward: “We should still do something about the scoundrels roaming the seas in our name.”
“Fine,” snapped James. “We’ll hunt down the impostors and thrash ’em—but not today.”