The Ransom (41 page)

The words spilled from her lips. “Where were you tonight? Why hadn’t you come below?”

He coughed, straightened his shoulders, and turned, leaning back on his desk. His eyes were clear once again. “I thought it best I keep my distance.”

“I don’t understand.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to her lips. “I didn’t wish to frighten you, Juliana. I didn’t wish to ‘take liberties’ as you so frequently accused me of before.” One side of his lips quirked.

Another flush of heat swamped her. Fie, she was not a woman prone to so many blushes. She stared down at the port swirling in her glass. “Would you have?”

“Not unwanted ones. Nay.”

She swallowed, realizing he spoke of her shameless response to his kiss. “But I thought …”

“Don’t be fooled by the pirate attire. Beneath it lurks a gentleman. Mayhap not the posh and polish of Lord Munthrope, but certainly a man who knows how to treat a lady.”

She studied him, an odd sensation bursting in her heart. A sensation of trust and affection that surprised her. “So, if not to bed me, what was the purpose of your charade? Of being Lord Munthrope? Of protecting me at the docks?”

He searched her eyes, hesitating. “Have you not guessed it by now, sweetums?”

Juliana stood and set her empty glass on his desk. “That term sounds so odd in your natural voice.” She approached him, desperate for a closer look in his eyes, to seek the sincerity she hoped to find there. She wobbled, unsure whether from the port or the teetering ship. Alex steadied her with one touch to her waist. Even leaning back against his desk, his chin was level with her forehead.

She studied the stubble sprouting on that chin and longed to run the tips of her fingers over it. “Please enlighten me,” she whispered as she raised her gaze to his.

He cupped her face in his hands and drank her in with his eyes. That gaze dropped to her lips, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her again, but instead he kissed her forehead and then ran a thumb over her cheek. “I love you, Juliana. Ever since I first saw you two years ago at a soirée in town.”

Love
. She could hardly believe her ears. “I was but eighteen.”

“Aye, and I was completely and utterly stricken.”

“But you never approached me?”

“As that buffoon Munthrope?” He chuckled. “I knew you wouldn’t give me a moment of your time.”

“Indeed,” she said. “I would not have.”

“Nor as the Pirate Earl, I feared.”

“Most definitely not.” She smiled.

“So you see my dilemma.” He eased a flaxen lock behind her ear. “I watched over you from afar. Then when I saw how Nichols pestered you, and how much you disdained him, I found my opportunity.”

She could hardly believe it. Loved by this man for so long, watched over like a guardian angel. And she’d had no idea. A thrill spiraled through her, urging her heart to a faster beat. “Why, pray, lead the double life in the first place? What purpose was there to the flamboyant Lord Munthrope?”

He sighed. “I suppose at first ’twas simply for my own entertainment. I found I quite enjoyed making a mockery of society, at least some of its more pretentious members.”

“You have an odd sense of sport, milord.”

He grinned. “In truth, I was bored, and found ol’ Munny an amusing diversion. Besides, no one would have ever suspected he was the Pirate Earl.”

She laughed. “I still cannot believe it myself. Your movements, your voice, your foppish attire, and those ridiculous rhymes.” She shook her head. “You have quite the talent for acting. You played us all for fools.”

She’d not meant her words to sound so curt, but a sorrow and an emptiness she’d not noticed before shadowed his eyes. He took her hand in his. “Please say you will forgive my deception. It was not meant to hurt you.”

She believed him. She could see the sincerity, the remorse, in his eyes. A pirate who didn’t ravish women, a thief who gave to the poor, a rogue who cared for a battered trollop, and a man who went out of his way to protect a foolish woman who risked her life for a friend. There was goodness in him. Goodness and kindness and honor that defied both his reputation and occupation.

Before she’d discovered his ruse, hadn’t she begun to care for Munthrope? And she’d even harbored feelings for the Pirate Earl, though she had been dreadfully ashamed to admit it. No wonder she’d been so confused. She’d been smitten with them both. For very different reasons. And could make no sense of it.

Now she was starting to.

This Lord Munthrope, this Alex, this Pirate Earl, had taken care of her, protected her, and loved her when everyone else had abandoned her. And he’d done it expecting nothing in return. Surely this was a man she could depend upon.

But could she love a pirate?
Should
she love a pirate? Oh, fie! Instead of giving him an answer, she did what every impulse within her longed to do: she placed her lips on his.

And the world spun out of control. Her mind, her thoughts, dreams, hopes, and desires all became one pleasurable eddy of warmth and delight filling every crevice of her being, lifting her from the confines of earth into another realm where there was only light and beauty and a love so intense, there was no cure but to become one with this man.

Alex’s arms, like iron bands, wrapped around her and pressed her so close she could feel his rock-hard strength, the rock of safety that was the Pirate Earl, as he gently, passionately explored her mouth and fanned her cheek with whispered words of love. She had no idea one could feel this way from a simple kiss. As if her body would explode from within if she were denied his touch.

Gripping her arms, he nudged her back, his breath heavy, his eyes glossed with desire. He ran his thumbs over her moist lips and licked his own, then drew a sigh as if steeling himself against something. Releasing her, he stepped away.

“I should go.” He started for the door as if he were escaping for his very life.

She spun to face him. “Please don’t.”

He halted. “Alack, my pet. You have no idea the effect you have on me.” The ship bolted and she stumbled. He was by her side in seconds, clutching her arm.

Her skin buzzed beneath his touch. “I believe I might have a clue.” She gave a tiny smile.

His eyes caressed her. “Then you know I cannot stay.”

“I do not wish to be alone. Please. We won’t kiss.” Oh, fie, another blush! “Or touch.” She pulled from his grip. “We’ll sit apart. But please don’t leave.”

And so the evening went. Alex sprawled on the deck on one side of the cabin as Juliana sat atop the bed. With moonlight rippling in waves through the windows and the sway of the ship like a lovers’ dance, they talked for hours. They shared their childhoods: his loving and good but often with absent parents; hers a mixed bundle of a stern, upbraiding father and adoring, charitable mother. They spoke of their love of music. Of William Young and John Milton, and how much Alex loved to hear Juliana play the violin—to which she was very much surprised and delighted. They shared their love of Shakespeare and Bunyan and the art of Rembrandt and Caravaggio and of the beauty and majesty of the sea. At one point Juliana leapt from her bed and gave a mock performance of Lord Munthrope relaying one of his embellished tales to his admirers, the act bringing them both to such laughter, they could hardly breathe.

Then as the first glow of dawn lifted the shield of night, they both drifted off to a deep, peaceful sleep.

Until the door crashed open, slammed into the wall and sent a tremble through the cabin. Juliana bolted from her bed, her heart racing like a rabbit’s to find Larkin and several pirates marching into the room, fully loaded with scowls, fully loaded with hate, and fully armed with pistols. Their gazes brushed over her before landing on Alex, who was already on his feet.

Larkin grinned. “I believe we’ll be taking over the ship, Captain.”

Chapter 32

Stripped of his weapons, his dignity, and what remained of his trust in mankind, Alex braced his boots on the heaving deck of the
Vanity
. His brig. Not the brig belonging to the lowlife scum-sucking miscreant who now strutted before him like a peacock. Nor of the twenty or so crewmen who’d sided with Larkin in his mutinous scheme. That left fifteen men loyal to Alex. But all of them, including Jonas, now stood hands bound and weaponless beside Alex on the main deck. Why he’d been left free of binds, he couldn’t imagine.

Regardless, ’twas Juliana’s safety that ate away at his gut at the moment. She stood, her arms gripped by pirates on either side, looking like a ray of sunshine amidst two storm clouds. Her hair flailed about her in ribbons of gold. Sweat beaded her lovely brow as blue-green eyes screaming in terror met his. My, but she was being brave. Not a whimper, not a scream, had emerged from her lips when Larkin’s men had ripped her from the bed and dragged her above. The only sign of her angst was a simple look she’d cast Alex—one of sorrow and deep loss as they both realized their one blissful night together would never happen again.

Yet now, in the blaring morning sun, Alex saw another look cross her face, one that he felt deep within his soul. These pirates would have their way with her at their first opportunity. And Alex could not let that happen. He didn’t know how, but he’d die protecting her from that fate. Lud, but he was a dimwitted cur for bringing her on board. Lifting his gaze, he tried to give her a reassuring look, but the deck tilted, and she staggered. One of her captors jerked her arm so hard, she cried out. Alex started for her. Larkin blocked his path. Tall and sinewy, the man had a few years on Alex. But that was all he had on him.

“Uh, uh, uh, Captain. Or should I call you
Alex
now, since you no longer command this brig?” He gripped the pommel of his sword and blew a kiss toward Juliana, eliciting laughter from his men. “That particular treasure is mine.”

The muscles bunching in Alex’s jaw felt as though they would explode. But he would not allow Larkin the pleasure of seeing him squirm. “What do you want?”

“Why, isn’t it obvious?” He fisted hands at his waist and glanced up at the furled sails and tall masts, then down over the deck. “Your brig. Or should I say,
my
brig now.”

“Ye yellow-livered namby!” Riggs, the boson, shouted at Larkin. “Turning on the cap’n like this. Why, he’s done good fer us!”

“Aye, aye,” several of the bound men agreed, casting searing looks at the sailing master.

Spittal spat on the deck. “Slimy carp! An’ ye, Henry, and ye, Miggs!”—he called to some of the mutineers—“shame be to ye!”

Larkin drew his pistol and oscillated it between Spittal and Riggs. “Which one of you wants to be shot first?”

Neither men responded, but neither did they remove their defiant gaze from the former sailing master.

Jonas groaned beside Alex, his eyes crazed with a fury Alex didn’t know the man possessed.

The brig toppled over a frothy swell, creaking and moaning as if as unhappy with the change in management as Alex was. He stared at Larkin and remembered the many drinks they’d partaken of in his cabin, the battles they’d fought side by side, the confidences they’d shared, Alex once again cursed himself for a fool. “I trusted you.”

“Aye.” Larkin gave a lofty snort. “A mistake many men have made.”

The sun, now a mast’s length over the horizon, lashed them with cords of heat that even the steady breeze refused to cool. Yet Larkin had lowered sails. Why? Alex could think of only one reason. “Are you now to toss us to the sharks?”

The traitorous cad smiled and shared a glance with his men. “Nothing quite so dramatic, I assure you.”

Then why hadn’t he tied them all up below? Why had he stopped the brig and assembled them on deck? Alex could see no other reason than to make them walk the plank.

A call sounded from above. “A sail! A sail!”

Out of habit, Alex opened his mouth to ask where lies she, but Larkin beat him to it, and upon receiving the answer, he raised a scope to his eye and leveled it beyond the stern. Alex glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. Whoever it was, the sight put a rather pleased smile on Larkin’s face. Lowering the scope, he slammed it shut. Sunlight glinted off the hilt of the sword strapped to his side, and Alex stretched his fingers, longing to grab it and slit the vermin’s neck.

But that would bring a dozen or so blades and pistols to bear on him. ’Twas a fool’s action, and Larkin knew Alex was no fool.

“Right on time,” Larkin said, his nod sending two of his men dropping down a hatch. “Never fear,
Alex,
your wait shan’t be overlong. In fact, your fate will become all too clear in but moments. Along with the fate of your toadies. And of this sweet tart.” He slid a finger down Juliana’s jaw. The lady jerked away in disgust.

“And what fate is that?” Alex demanded, drawing the vermin’s gaze from her.

“Why, the only one fitting a pirate of your caliber. The noose and gibbet.” His grin was malicious.

Alex glanced at the horizon again, where he could now make out bloated sails and the faint red and blue of the Union Jack thrashing above the masthead. “A Navy frigate,” he said to no one in particular.