The Pirate Prince (18 page)

CHAPTER NINE

The sailors were seized with terror at this and said, “What have you done?
”

They knew Jonah was trying to escape from God, because he had told them so
.

Allegra sat in the stateroom, reading the Bible by the strong, gold light of afternoon, seeking solace in the ancient, holy words.

Jonah replied, “Take me and throw me into the sea, and then it will grow calm for you. For I can see it is my fault this violent storm has happened to you
.”

Yahweh had arranged that a great whale should be there to swallow Jonah; and Jonah remained in the belly of the whale for three days and three nights. From the belly of the fish he prayed to his God; he said: “You cast me into the abyss, into the heart of the sea, and the flood surrounded me. All your waves, all your billows, washed over me.” And I said: “I am cast out from your sight. How shall I ever look again on your holy Temple? The waters surrounded me right to my throat, the abyss was all around me. The seaweed was wrapped around my head at the roots of the mountains. I went down into the countries underneath the earth, to the peoples of the past
….”

Allegra bowed her head, closed her eyes, and prayed for guidance. There had to be some reason Heaven had placed this benighted man in her path. She asked God for discernment so she could make out the truth in the baffling dilemma the pirate captain presented.

“Praying for deliverance from the Devil, madam?” a deep, familiar voice inquired.

She looked up to see the Devil of Antigua sauntering across the stateroom toward the cabin. The air of effortless command in his walk, the power in his broad shoulders, the self-assurance in the very angle of his chin, made her feel all the more keenly the powerlessness of her captivity, and she chafed against it. Surely not once in any of her salon conversations about liberty had she ever imagined she would lose her own.

Closing the Bible, she watched her captor pass. He looked very much the grand sea captain in his dark blue waistcoat, the sleeves of his shirt bright white, a neat and efficient cravat tied around his golden throat. She listened to him moving about in the adjoining cabin, wondering what mischief he was up to now.

“I might point out, Miss Monteverdi,” he called absently, “that you were the one who begged me to take you, in exchange for sparing your family. As I recall, you swore to do anything I asked—anything at all. I believe those were your exact words. I have been remarkably lenient so far, don’t you think?”

She paled, wondering if he was implying his patience with her had come to an end. She did not regret her oath, but it would have been much easier to bear up under her word of honor if Papa had not nullified it.

With a lone tremble that ran the whole course of her body, she decided to go in there and get it over with. She would state her protest, but she would not fight him. Mind made up, she rose, smoothed her dress, and walked to the cabin. Was there any way, she wondered, to prepare oneself mentally before being ravished?

She stood in the doorway, watching him sort through his desk. The captain did not pay her the slightest mind. He certainly did not look like a man maddened with ravening lust.

Suddenly suspicious, she decided to carefully probe his mind, try to learn what plans he had in store for her. “Captain,” she said calmly, “I would speak with you.”

“I’m honored,” he replied without looking up from his search through a drawer.

She opted to begin with roundabout good grace, though it was difficult to be civil to him.

“How is your arm?”

He cocked his head, instantly on his guard. “Healing clean.”

She studied him, wondering why he should seem so wary of her when they both knew she was the one at his mercy. Maybe she held some advantage she had not realized. The prospect filled her with sudden hope.

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe. “Captain, I pride myself on broad-mindedness, but I realize what you said is true. I haven’t been fair to you. I apologize. I have been—out of sorts.” The words rather stuck in her throat, but she continued. “I am still ignorant of your motives, but I understand it cost you dearly to abandon your vendetta against my family. I would like very much to hear your side of the story, as you asked.”

“Well, that is all very generous of you, I’m sure,” he said as he straightened up and examined a quill pen, “but I’ve decided my side of the story is of no consequence, so”—he looked up with a bland smile—“never mind.”

This took her by surprise, though she did not know why it should when the man seized every possible opportunity to vex her.

“But I am prepared to listen without judging, as you requested.”

“Ah, but I no longer wish to tell you, Miss Monteverdi. You will dine with me tonight in the stateroom, now that you are up and about. Eight o’clock sharp. And after dinner, well.” He cast her a very wicked, lazy smile. “We’ll see if you’re good on your word.”

She stared at him, paling. “You said you wouldn’t force me.”

“You don’t believe anything else I say, so why would you believe that?”

She looked about her as her heart began to pound, realizing anew she was completely at his mercy. She didn’t know whether to flee screaming or start taking off her clothes.

He laughed at her. “I’m joking. Would you stop looking so terrified? Come, I want to show you something.” He took her hand and led her across the cabin to the balcony. At the threshold, she hung back, looking anxiously toward the spindled banister.

The swaying of the ship was obvious here, up and down crazily against the steady, distant line of the horizon.

“Upon my word,” she uttered, a trifle seasick at the sight.

“Come and look.”

“No, thank you, I-I’ll stay here.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll fall in.”

“Fall in?” he asked quizzically. “The water?”

She swallowed hard. “I can’t go near the edge.”

“By all means, Miss Monteverdi, if you fell in, I would dive in and save you without hesitation.”

She lifted her apprehensive gaze from the blue-green waters to his bold grin, forgetting her anxiety to notice how his snug waistcoat flattered his powerful chest and the narrow angle of his waist, sun glancing off every gold button.

“But I’ve used up all my rescues,” she said in dismay.

“Nonsense. Only for that twenty-four-hour period.”

When he started toward her with a devilish twinkle in his dark eyes, she shrank from him, sure he meant to pick her up and hold her out over the edge, just to terrify her. It was just the sort of thing he would call fun. But he stopped, probably warned off by her sudden pallor.

He searched her face, her eyes, then his gaze skimmed over her hair and came to rest on her lips, lingering there until she licked them self-consciously. Then she saw the naked hunger in his eyes, and she knew it was only a matter of time.

For now, he turned himself away with a resolute look and went to the edge alone, resting his elbows on the rail as he gazed down at the water, the wind billowing through his loose white sleeves, sculpting the white linen against his muscled arms.

“Dolphins,” he said, pointing idly.

“Really?” She stood on her toes in the doorway to the balcony, trying to see them, for she was fond of the merry creatures, but it was no good. On the other hand, his casual stance gave her the most appealing view of his compact bottom.

She forced herself to quit staring. It suddenly seemed acutely unwise to ask him to elaborate on his plans for her. If she opened that topic now, he was sure to give her a firsthand demonstration, and she did not think she could bear it.

The most prudent solution she could discern was to accept his earlier offer of friendship, neither to anger him into handing down some dreadful punishment nor to give in to the seduction she felt in his every glance.

If she was very careful, she thought, she could balance safely on the fine line between extremes until she found some way to extricate herself from this predicament, or until he grew bored with her.

Yes, she thought, she was good at being careful. She had never liked extremes.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked, never turning around.

“I did not want to talk so much as to listen,” she ventured.

“How wise you are, Miss Monteverdi,” he remarked, sounding not sarcastic for once but thoughtful and distant, even a trifle melancholy.

“My mother always said there’s a reason God gave us two ears and one mouth.”

“Ah, yes, Lady Cristiana. Beautiful woman,” he said. “I once put a toad in her reticule.”

Her eyes widened. “How do you know about that?” she demanded.

He looked over his shoulder at her for a long moment, then turned judiciously away in a cool show of reproof.

She furrowed her brow, then brushed the question off. He had already proved himself resourceful and intelligent. If he had found the ancient Fiori caves, he could easily have unearthed a few stories of the Crown Prince’s boyish practical jokes. Obviously he had done his research well for his imposture.

He addressed her in an aloof tone, his back to her. “You seem to have reached certain conclusions about me, Miss Monteverdi, but I am willing to overlook them due to the great shock you’ve had. Only let me ask you a simple question, my dear. You’re a clever young woman. You should know the answer in a trice.”

“Yes?”

“If I am a charlatan, and my aim was to use this pathetic legend of the so-called Lost Prince in order to seize power on Ascencion, why on God’s earth did I leave the island when my alleged goal was accomplished?”

She opened her mouth to reply and discovered she had no answer.

He turned around, one brow lifted high. “Hmm?”

Primly she lifted her chin. “I do not know. You probably realized you couldn’t get away with it. I’d say the fact that you
did
leave proves all the more that you are
not
the real Prince.”

He folded his arms. “How is that?”

She scoffed. “Obviously, the prince would never abandon his people when they needed him so much, when they were poor and hungry and suffering all manner of oppression. He would do everything he possibly could to help them.”

“What if he had already examined the situation and found he could do nothing and so decided not to get involved?”

“Then he would be as selfish as you,” she neatly replied.

“Mmm. What if he saw no point in trying because he knew no one would believe him?”

She shook her head. “That would not happen. His people would know him at once.”

“What if something so humiliating had happened to him during those lost years that he just…couldn’t show his face?” he murmured.

“Then he would be a coward.”

He let out a short, miserable laugh as he stared down at the dolphins. “I confess you are too clever for me, Miss Monteverdi. You have an answer for everything.”

“But no son of Alphonse would be so. There were no cowards among the Fiori.” She turned her gaze away impatiently from his broken, downcast stare. “May we change the subject, Captain? I cannot like your hoax.”

He turned to her. “Why are you so, shall we say,
passionate
about the Fiori, Allegra?”

She shrugged and gazed up at the clouds. “King Alphonse and Queen Eugenia were my mother’s dearest friends. Myself, I even went to play with Princess Anna when I was very small, though I barely remember her.”

A pained look passed over his handsome face and quickly vanished.

She furrowed her brow and continued. “You see, I grew up on Mama’s stories of life at court. She told me so much about the Fiori, I feel as if I knew them all personally, especially the Crown Prince. That is why you cannot fool me.”

“Especially him? Why?”

She smiled fondly to herself as she looked down at the planks. “I suppose it’s because I always tried so hard to be good and obedient, and he was an irrepressible rascal. The stories Mama told me about him just…thrilled me. I was always so careful never to be naughty, but Prince Lazar could get away with anything.”

“Really?” he said skeptically.

“Oh, yes.” She chuckled. “According to Mama, the boy went out of his way to be impossible at all times.”

“I’m sure it was just high spirits,” he said indignantly.

“And…I guess I always wondered what it would be like to have a big brother, as Princess Anna did,” she added wistfully, shooting him a rueful smile.

He stared at her without a word.

“So, you see?” she said. “I know all about the real Lazar di Fiore, and, trust me, he was nothing like you.”

“What else did your mother tell you about this precious young martyr?”

“I’m certainly not going to tell you! I will not help you impersonate him.”

He cast her a bland smile full of silken threat. “Indulge me.”

She decided it was not perhaps so wise to defy him under the circumstances.

“Well, she said he was a good son. He loved his mother very much. Queen Eugenia’s nickname for him was Leo. He had many, many friends, and he was betrothed in childhood,” she said thoughtfully, “to one of the Austrian Habsburg princesses.”