The Pirate and the Puritan (5 page)

“I have to calm down first. My
father will know I’ve been arguing with you, and he made me promise not to.”

Drew chuckled, but his laugh rang
hollow. “How did mild-mannered Ben Kendall wind up with a daughter like you?”

She edged beside him and
flattened her palms on the cool stone railing. The way he stared out at the sea
seemed to relax him. She would be wise to keep him off guard until she found
the answers she wanted.

“I’ve always had a mind of my
own, if that’s what you’re referring to. It didn’t bother my mother and
father—though the congregation of our church had quite a lot to say about it.
They wanted my parents to break my spirit, with force if necessary. As you
know, force doesn’t work.”

He glanced down at her wrist,
bared below her cuff. “Did I leave a bruise?” He lifted her hand with
reverence.

“No, but it still pains me,” she
lied, not sure if he were truly concerned or just toying with her again.
Hopefully, the fib explained her slight shudder at his touch.

“I’m sorry.”

The sharp retort his insincerity
deserved melted on her tongue. She became entranced by his concern-softened
features. He bent down and placed a light kiss on the throbbing pulse point
below her palm. The intimacy of the touch weakened her knees. Her lips parted
as the flick of his tongue caressed her skin.

She yanked her hand away before
she moaned. But even the wind conspired to seduce her. A soft breeze licked the
wet spot left by his mouth. Felicity shivered, but instead of chilled, she felt
feverish. Being civil to him had been a mistake. He managed to use her own
weakness against her.

She contorted her features into
the pinched countenance of the matrons of the Puritan church. “That won’t
secure my silence. I have no proof yet, but I will.”

“I’ve no doubt you’ll find
evidence to convict me of whatever misdeed you choose.” The humor in his voice
gave no sign that her threat concerned him.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had
enough of your company.” She was tired of being a source of amusement. Worse,
knowing he was a cad didn’t stop her body from tingling in all the most sinful
places.

She turned to go, but Drew
touched her arm. She spun around to face him, her eyes wide with indignation.
Only a fool would fall into that trap again.

He held up his hands in a gesture
of surrender. “Just one thing. I was wrong when I assumed your marital status
was due to the lack of a man. I’ve no doubt that if you made up your mind to
marry, married you would be, and the man of your choosing would have little to
say about it.”

She couldn’t tell if he meant his
words to be compliment or insult. “I’m sure you’re also used to getting exactly
what you want. It seems we’ve each met our match.”

He genuinely laughed. Its rawness
was melodic. “No, Felicity. You’re no match for me. I don’t usually get what I
want. I only get what I can.” Then he shook off his moment of melancholy. “I’m
curious. Why have you chosen to remain a spinster?”

If she hadn’t been scrutinizing
every subtle change in his expression, she would have missed the flash of
vulnerability.

“I succumbed to a handsome rogue
exactly like you when I was still young and naive. I believed his empty
flattery and paid dearly for it. He bested me. You won’t.” Without further
explanation, she turned and left him alone on the terrace, her own heartbeat
thrumming in her ears, drowning out the lovely sound of the sea.

The Linleys’ decadent feast was
wasted on Drew. He picked at the shrimp-stuffed snapper and disregarded the
suckling pig fresh from the roasting pit. Digging into Felicity Kendall
appealed to him much more than any entree weighting the lace-draped table.

Under the glow of candlelight,
amber streaks rippled through her restrained hair, hinting at unruly curls.
Subduing the thick mass in the severe knot at her nape appeared painful. How
the disobedience of her hair must gall her. Drew wiped his mouth with a napkin
to hide his smile.

His position at the long dining
table forced him to be obvious in his ogling. Visions of her hair, free from
its prison of pins, toyed with his imagination. Her puritanical fortress
ensconced a unique beauty. He’d had women in all shapes and sizes, but none
that spit sparks from her eyes and turned each conversation into a battle of
wills.

As if to confirm his insight,
Felicity sneaked a glance in his direction. An elusive flare of green darted
beneath her large, almond-shaped lids. He’d thought her eyes dull brown. In the
soft light, they shone a misty hazel, a murky pond pierced by a ray of
sunlight. Drew didn’t bother to hide his fascination. He just smiled
suggestively until she returned to scrutinizing the crab spilling over her
gold-rimmed plate.

Miss Kendall provided a mystery
in need of unraveling. Why she went to great lengths to disguise attributes
most women would flaunt stoked Drew’s imagination. He’d love to know what else
she concealed under her yards of black wool.

“Why are you gawking at Benjamin
Kendall’s very boring daughter?” whispered Samantha, who had indiscreetly
arranged to be seated on his right.

Drew downed the remainder of his
wine. Whenever he attended a social gathering of the self-appointed aristocracy
of Barbados, he tried to be quite intoxicated by this point in the evening. He
attributed his relative sobriety to finally finding something interesting at
Linley Hall.

“I’ve never seen a Puritan
before.”

“How surprising! They’re all over
the American colonies. I thought you spent a great deal of time there during
your long absences.”

“I don’t frequent their circles,
Sam.” He ignored her powdered breasts thrust over his dinner plate and gestured
for a servant to pour him more wine.

Beneath the table, Samantha
placed her hand on his thigh. “I despise it when you use that insipid nickname
as if I were one of your chums. I believe I’ve given you too many liberties
with my affection, Lord Christian. If that girl was not such a mouse, I would
actually be jealous.”

Drew gazed down at Samantha
without the slightest show of interest. She removed her hand, not waiting to be
asked.

“She is a woman, not a girl, and
she is anything but a mouse.”

“You don’t say. Lucky for me I
keep a full stable.” Samantha winked, then turned away from him and began a
conversation with the red-coated British officer seated across from her,
undoubtedly Drew’s replacement. She probably kept them close together in the
hopes of some excitement. Felicity’s unusual appeal escaped Samantha no more
than it did him, or he doubted she would have given up on her plans so easily.
He wondered how many others Felicity’s prudish facade fooled. Suddenly, the
hastily mentioned rogue in her past developed erotic dimensions. The idea that
another letch had discovered the pearl clamped in Felicity’s calcified shell
annoyed him.

Drew returned his gaze to the
woman in question, searching for a clue to confirm his suspicions, only to find
her fierce scrutiny poured in his direction. She must have noticed the exchange
between he and Samantha. He raised his glass in a silent toast. She looked
away, ignoring the gesture.

His grin deepened. Bedding her
would be a challenge, and he loved a challenge. Especially when his reward
would be unleashing the passions of a repressed wanton. The way his body
responded when she tried to wither him with her fire-and-brimstone stares
assured him that her heat came from more than moral outrage. He’d actually be
providing Felicity a great service. Puritan or not, her foul temper was the cry
of a female in dire need of seduction. And he was just the man to answer that
call.

Out on the terrace, he’d thought
she’d had him by the ballocks when she mentioned general goods. Luckily, her
wrong turn in the labyrinth of truth led her nowhere. As long as she lost
herself in the maze she’d created, his secret would be secure.

He lowered his wineglass and
stopped smiling. Who was he to think of bedding Ben’s daughter? Not only was
Benjamin his friend, but if Beatrice’s murderer suspected he cared a whit about
Felicity Kendall, she might be the next victim.

***

Felicity watched Drew turn his
lazy observance of the dinner party inward. As he stared into his cut crystal
glass, filled to the brim with deep red wine, a brooding veil settled over his
features. Felicity welcomed the sudden droop of his high spirits. He’d been
toying with her like a cat with a wounded mouse.

Not for a moment did she believe
his flirtatious glances sincere. Never should she have hinted at the real
reason she’d been forced to remain a spinster. Though the irony in his attempt
to seduce her should have amused her, it didn’t.

His conceit explained his choice
of tactics. It had nothing to do with her weakness for rakes. Using his
masculine prowess to melt her hostility came as naturally to him as breathing.
If he assumed she would succumb to the charms of a well-practiced flirt twice,
he underestimated her.

She dragged her gaze away from
Drew and stared at the picked-over remains of her meal. Removing him from her
sight didn’t ease the pain flowing from the wound he’d reopened. A handsome man
would not have the opportunity for another slice of her soul.

Pressure on her shoulder
shattered her thoughts. A large ruby winking from a gaudy ring captured her
gaze. She followed the length of a brown velvet sleeve to find its owner.

“Daydreaming? I would have
wagered the very serious Miss Kendall didn’t indulge in such a luxury. Is that
allowed in the Puritan handbook, or shall we consult another of Samuel Sewall’s
pamphlets?”

Her scrutiny traveled no farther.
She knew exactly to whom the dark satin voice belonged. And he’d come to harass
her again.

“Leave me alone.”

He dragged her chair away from
the table. In answer to his unwanted gallantry, she glared at him over her
shoulder.

He smiled and extended his hand.
“May I escort you to the music room for sherry with the ladies, or would you
prefer a stroll on the beach?”

At his audacity, her anger turned
to disbelief. Surely her father hadn’t expected her to tolerate such abuse. She
glanced around the large dining hall, seeking his help. Several servants busily
cleared away dishes. All of the other guests had deserted the crimson-padded
room. Without acknowledging Drew, Felicity stood and walked past him.

Muffled chatter buzzed from the
adjoining drawing room. She intended to find her father and put an end to the
evening.

Drew caught her by hooking his
arm with hers, oblivious to her rebuke. He lowered his head to whisper
intimately in her ear. “I think I’d rather be flailed by your vicious temper
than ignored.”

Once they passed under the
mahogany archway carved in a pattern of shells and vines, satin-clad ladies and
bejeweled men surrounded them in a sea of bold color. She couldn’t yank her arm
away without notice. Large gilded mirrors, mounted atop the
plum-and-cream-striped wall covering, artfully captured the guests’
reflections. Women, who had stopped their conversation when Drew escorted her
into the room, stared enviously. The image of Drew bending down to her in
attentive intimacy increased the beating of her heart.

Part of Felicity longed to cling
to her unwanted escort. The other part, the coward, urged her to run from the
room. Next to Drew and the other guests, she appeared the black raincloud
hovering over a spring carnival. Instead of shrinking, she invoked her callused
pride and tried once more to separate herself from the man at her side.

The firmness underneath his plush
coat confirmed the strength of his presence was not merely an illusion created
by padding his shoulders. His arm entwined with hers felt hard and unyielding.
The ruby ring appeared awkward on his large, rough fingers. His hand
overpowered the feminine adornment. Drew didn’t possess the hand of a nobleman.
He possessed the hand of a laborer.

“Do all aristocrats work with
their hands, or is that a peculiarity to you?”

He smiled down at her. “That’s
more like it. I wondered how long you could remain silent.”

“Let go. I must find my father.”
Her need to escape him overwhelmed her desire for discretion. She tugged
against his hold with all her strength.

He hardly flexed a muscle in his
restraint. “The fire is back. How easily you ignite. Perhaps I should show you
rather than tell you the skills I’ve perfected with my hands.”

“Save your demonstrations for
Mistress Linley.”

Drew’s eyebrows rose
suggestively. “For a virgin, you are far from naive. Do Puritans instruct their
unmarried women in something I should know? I might have a religious conversion
on the spot.”

Lowering her face hid her flushed
cheeks. He seemed to read through her every word. She needed to find her father
and leave at once.

Determinedly, she yanked her arm
away from his. Lack of resistance left her stumbling, but she quickly regained
her balance. Fists on her hips, she had every intention of laying into him with
a detailed inventory of his horrid behavior, until she noticed he looked past
her.

Her father followed Master Linley
and another man she vaguely recognized into the room through doors that led
from the entry hall. A hush descended on the disconnected chatter of the
guests. When she finally placed Captain McCulla, the concern tightening her
father’s features brought goose flesh to her skin like a winter wind.

Drew pulled a gold watch from the
fob pocket of his breeches and casually glanced at the time. “McCulla, what
tears you away from the Hare and the Hound...and so close to the witching
hour?”

Captain McCulla, the man Felicity
had seen in a stupor at the dock, blanched. He straightened his ill-fitting
dark blue coat, losing the intensity of purpose with which he had burst into
the room. Felicity’s initial impulse urged her to go to her father, but she
hung back when the crowd formed a semicircle around the three men. Mistress
Linley stared covetously at Drew across the space.