Upon Your Return (3 page)

“
Mademoiselle
--”

“Do it.”

He complied, parking where she'd told him. He stepped down and then helped her to step down as well, and offered her his arm. “I will escort you.”

“No, Pierre. Stay. I must go alone for this meeting.”

“But,
Mademoiselle--
”

“You heard me.”

He frowned. “
Monsieur
Bellamont will not be pleased if I do not accompany you.”

“I am aware.”

He nodded grimly. “If anything happens…”

She lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “Alert my uncle at once.” Then she turned and proceeded to find the right pier.

Pier one. Fara passed it and shivered in her evening dress. The wind picked up. April was always a chilly month. Fara felt the same eeriness at the docks as she had felt going through town. Desolation crept inside her as she glanced about her. Distantly, she heard the occasional shout of men working on the ships docked there. She passed one now and then, moving crates while others held lanterns to see. They looked worn and their clothes held the grime of days of soil and the lack of bathing facilities. She wrinkled her nose. She caught their leering glances, but sidestepped them well enough. Of all the places to meet, why had Jean chosen here?

She had to stay focused. When she reached pier two, she was not sure whether she should walk the pier or wait at the entrance. She did know the ground was filthy and her slippers were soiled. She sighed and hoped her fiancé would soon show. He was a young man. Could he be naïve as well? Could he truly know nothing about the peril surrounding the harbor and its inhabitants?

She still envisioned his sad eyes, seeing the pain she'd inflicted when she could not tell him what he wished to hear. She did not love him, but she could have softened her admission with gentler words. At least she should have avoided being so definite with her answer, or perhaps have offered him hope of the possibility of love in their future. He might be more of a sensitive man. She didn't know him at all. What was her uncle thinking, suiting her up with a man she barely knew? And how well did he even know
Monsieur
Le Croíx?

Fara shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Her stomach churned. She'd been waiting awhile for him. It seemed at least ten minutes had passed since she'd been left at the entrance to the docks. Surely Jean Le Croíx would not desert her, leave her alone in this place?

But then, he might be capable of anything. What if he'd asked her to come and then decided against going himself? No, he was not like that. She was being silly. But how could she be sure? The man had only visited the house three times before the announcement of their betrothal. And she'd had no idea she was supposed to marry the man at the time. She simply thought she was entertaining one of her uncle's acquaintances. The times she'd spent with him were hardly enough to discern any kind of opinion about him.

Jean Le Croíx, son of two deceased parents, survived on his father's estate. René Le Croíx, Jean's late father, had been a successful merchant. Jean would know his way around the harbor, considering his father's profession. But these were just details. They said nothing about the character of the man her fiancé was. Of that, she knew nothing.

Why in God's name would Jean Le Croíx ask to meet her here of all places? She had heard tales about what happened to good people who dared set foot around the harbor at night. Theft, rape, death. This was a very bad idea. Surely
Monsieur
Le Croíx knew the dangers. What if he was a rascal indeed? What if he'd meant for her to be alone at the pier?

A shiver slowly crept up her spine. It wasn't the implications of that thought which plagued her. It was the feel of something or someone close by. Were those footsteps she heard behind her or on another pier?

“Jean? Is that you?” She tried to slow her breathing, which came in rapid pants. “Jean?” She stiffened. “Jean Le Croíx, are you there? You'd better come out.” As she turned, her elbow brushed something and she recoiled, falling against a wall.
No, not a wall
. Terror ripped through her as she realized a pair of arms enclosed around her.

“Lovely lady. You're looking for someone, I presume? Well,
Monsieur
Le Croíx thought you'd be better off in our hands.”

Our hands? She tried to jerk away from him, but he was too strong. “Let me go, I-I demand it.”

Laughter erupted nearby and a figure loomed before her. Another man appeared and licked his lips lasciviously. “
Oui
,
Monsieur
Le Croíx believed us quite capable once he dished out the finances required. We may have gotten a poor bargain, Bernard. She could be worth far more.”

The man grunted in agreement.

Mon Dieu
, she thought. Jean had hired them! For what exactly? To kill her? Her stomach rolled as she imagined all the things they might do to her.

“Please, I'll do anything. Not this…” She shook her head.

“The lady is smart, Bernard. We must watch her.”

“Please. My…m-my uncle,” she stammered.

“I'm terribly sorry,
chère
. Your uncle has nothing to do with our pleasure.”

“But…” She swallowed her fear. “Ransom…if you ask for a ransom, he'll give it to you. I promise. Anything.”

“No doubt your uncle is a wealthy man and you might fetch a fair price. But, what we're looking for you cannot buy.” He laughed. “In most circumstances.”

No, they couldn't buy it. But, they could take it. Her virginity. She could not fight them if they tried. Anger heated her face and a red haze filled her vision. She struggled harder. “Damn you! You'll pay for this!”

He laughed. “I suppose so. But, what else can you do? There is an alternative now, a position with
dames de nuit
…”

She clenched her fist. Now she was likened to a prostitute? No, it would not be done. She tried to play at her innocence. “Please…this can't be happening.”

“Oh, but it is, my lovely lady. It won't be so bad--”

“No!” She slammed the heel of her foot in her captor's shin and spun away.

“Bernard!” called one of the men.

She heard footsteps behind her and she turned, lashing out with her fingernails. She gasped as she saw him howl in pain, lowering his head to reveal red claw marks over the bridge of his nose. Then the man she'd first wounded came at her, tackling her.

The impact jarred her and she went down. “No!” Her escape was not to be.

She rolled to the ground in a maze of skirts and a heavy thigh was thrown across her knees, leaving her immobile. She squeezed her eyes tight. His touch on her face and breasts was repulsive. Tears threatened to overcome her and they ran like tracks into her hair. “Please,” she whispered.

“Ah, gentlemen, what have we here?” An unfamiliar voice sounded and Fara lifted her head weakly to see a new face, a different man. She wondered if he was an ordinary spectator. He didn't look ordinary. He was big, intimidating but not frighteningly so. There was something about him she wanted to trust. She thought it might be his eyes, thought she detected a hint of concern as he glanced at her briefly. But, of course, she might be wrong. She had been before.

The man who pinned her disengaged himself and got to his feet. He looked down at her uneasily. “To your feet,
chère
,” he ordered.

She dizzily stood in response and he clutched her to his side as if to claim her as his possession.

The stranger frowned. “She's quite a catch, gentlemen. Are you sure she's not off limits?”

The man at her side stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“She appears to be a lady.”

Hope sprang from inside her. The man was no innocent bystander. He was a man with a purpose, but deep down she knew he could not be with these rogues.

“And if she is,
Monsieur
?”

“Then I would be curious as to why a lady is here with the two of you.”

The one called Bernard replied derisively, “Perhaps we are just too irresistible.”

The man laughed. “Hardly.” He sighed as her captor chose to resume his place behind her and blocked all attempts of escape with an arm across her chest. “Release her, gentlemen. Let's settle this in a civilized manner, shall we?”

The man who held her grunted. “Why don't you go about your business,
Monsieur
? A simple matter like this shouldn't interest you.”

“A woman's reputation may be at stake. Of course I'm interested.”

“We could share her,
Monsieur
.”

His gaze swept over her body and she shivered. Why, surely he would not take them seriously...he couldn't take the offer. For God's sake, he was her only hope. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she cursed herself for her maiden's sensibilities. Where had her strength gone?

“You think I would participate in something so lewd? You mistake my character, gentlemen.” He pulled a rapier from its sheath. “The question is, what risks will you take? Let me see...two men against one. Of course, if you still want to keep the lady, it will take one of you to hold her. She looks fairly strong despite her size...why look at that mark on your face. She has fought you. She could be deadly, if given the chance. That makes one against one. Do you intend to fight me for her obvious favors?”

“Take out the girl, Bernard.”

The command came too quickly and before she could struggle away, a fist slammed against her jaw and she fell into blackness.

She lifted her head sometime later, unsure of how long she'd been unconscious. Her vision gradually returned, and the damp of the ground seeped through her dress. She shuddered with the chill of air upon her body. She heard the scrape of a footstep and a grunting sound above her. Still disoriented, Fara raised her head to see the man who had come to her rescue fighting off the two rogues.

He fought them with expert wrist and arm technique. He seemed to be in top physical shape as compared to Jean Le Croíx, who was soft for his obvious youth. She grimaced. Her wound caused her to be silly. So, he was attractive and strong...strong enough to fight these men off and break her neck all in the same moment.

Then the man thrust his rapier forward swiftly. When the one called Bernard, who had a white scar down the side of his face pulled away, he revealed a small but bloody wound on his arm. With a ragged breath, he looked at her rescuer as if weighing the consequences of his decision. He then turned on his heel and his accomplice soon followed him away from the docks.

Fara watched their retreat with a deep sigh. Her rescuer pivoted on his heel and approached her. He looked much larger than before. Trembling, she levered herself up on one elbow and waited for him to speak.

He kneeled and looked her over. “I guess they gave up the chase...”

Fara nodded, swallowing hard. “
Oui, Monsieur
.” He touched her cheek and she felt the warmth emanate from his hand. She was afraid, but she did not pull away from his touch. She found it strangely protective, even affectionate. Though she barely knew him, she wanted to believe he cared for her welfare. Her vision clouded with tears as rich longing swept through her. To be cared for completely, to be loved. But, he was a stranger. She could not forget that.

Distantly, she knew that her physical state was far from normal at the moment.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head, feeling herself grow weaker by the second. Nothing could keep her alert at that moment. “
Monsieur
...” she murmured, falling into the inviting darkness.

Chapter Two

Fara fought the darkness to the coming light. It was so easy to stay in the dark. It was comforting like a warm blanket. But, the light held such possibilities. She knew she must rouse, as if something significant lay there in wakefulness. She stirred and felt a pair of arms holding her. Then she heard a heartbeat beneath a rough fabric, felt a coarse texture of chest hair. It was so secure within that embrace.

When she finally realized it was a man who held her, she gasped and tried to retreat from the cord of muscles. She glanced up to be temporarily blinded by the lamplight to her left.

“Don't move,” said a soft but deep voice.

He spoke with the assurance of authority, and she could tell he was used to ordering people around. Well, he wouldn't order her. She lifted her heavy head and whimpered as a stab of agony sliced through her skull. Fara squeezed her eyes shut tight. It was so much easier to be left in the dark for it was as if her head was being cut with so many knives.

“I will have you more comfortable in a moment. Please do not move.”

How could she possibly move with all this pain and that large man rendering her limbs useless?

Suddenly, she felt a light cushion beneath her. The glare from the lantern came into her vision again when she opened her eyes and was then replaced by the outline of a man towering above her. She gasped and crawled away from him, but his hold on her waist hauled her back. Her head hurt so as he studied her face.

“
Madame
, the pain will be less if you stay still. I promise I did not bring you here to harm you in any way.”

She gradually settled back on the pillows and looked at her keeper. He was an attractive man, if one liked the rough, indignant kind. Dark layers of soft waves covered his head and ended at the nape of his neck. He was large, but slim in the right places...it spoke of years of hard physical labor.

His eyes captivated her as she studied him in such proximity. The shade of his eyes...a charcoal color; they were the most intense and unreadable eyes she'd ever seen. It was an odd, yet strikingly beautiful color for a man.

Oh, you silly girl, she thought. Really...how ridiculous for her to be wooed by only a pair of eyes. “May I ask you a question?”

“I insist you do, if you are not too unwell.” He gestured to her jaw.

Fara nodded, acknowledging the wound provided by the man named Bernard. She imagined what he referred to must indeed be a hideous sight. She looked around the room. It appeared to be a cabin of sorts. “
Monsieur
...how did I get here? Are we on a yacht?”

“A ship. My ship,
La Voyageur,
” he announced firmly with a lifted brow.

She faltered at the damning tone in his voice. It gave the impression that he was accustomed to some ridicule, but she could not fathom the reason for it. “You are a captain?”

“
Oui
,
Madame
.”

“
Mademoiselle
.” She blushed.

“Ah. I knew you were too young to be saddled to one man, but thought it safer to say you were.”

“
Monsieur
...how long will I be here?”

He pointed to her throbbing jaw. “As soon as
that
is healed nicely, I will escort you to your home.”

Why, that could be days! Did he really mean to let her go, or was his intention to ask for a ransom? He had rescued her, but what if his motives were for reasons other than valor? “My uncle...he will be concerned for me. I insist you take me home now.” She realized her voice was too soft to sound commanding.

He shook his head. “I will have a message sent to him. What is his name?”

She sighed. “Michel
de
Bellamont.” She began to protest, “
Monsieur
, surely you do not intend to keep me here? That would not be right.”

“I do though. You fainted twice. I must be certain it won't happen again. That bastard hit you. I would be surprised if you didn't feel unwell. I will send the message to your uncle, informing him that his niece is in good hands. You will probably be better tomorrow. You may leave then if you wish.”

“All right,
Monsieur
.
Merci
.” He seemed to be concerned about her enough to care for her here. She still felt unsure about spending time alone with a complete stranger, especially a man, but she did not know how to convince him otherwise. He did not seem like the kind of man one questioned. And despite the fact that she'd thought he could be trusted, she still must be on her guard. She had no idea what he really intended.

He went to the door and spoke quietly to a young boy, who nodded exuberantly, and then he shut the door.

She stared at him for several moments. “What might I call you?”

He turned to her, stood straight and bowed. “
La Capitaine
Hill. My name is Grant though.”

Grant Hill...it was a strong name. It spoke of a good lineage, yet it had a trace of foreign roots as did her first name. There were many people in France who would discriminate on petty things such as names or appearances. “Grant,” she murmured absently, suddenly captivated by his eyes again.

“And you,
Mademoiselle
Bellamont?”

“My name is Fara.” Her mother had named her, had claimed it was English for 'beautiful'. No one knew that except her mother and father. She supposed most people could guess it wasn't a French name, like
Capitaine
Hill's. But she refrained from telling anyone because she knew how odd the French acted about origins. If one wasn't entirely French in every way, there was something low about it. It was a narrow-minded and proud society.

“Tis' a beautiful name,
Mademoiselle
.”

“Thank you.” She frowned. “If you are the man who came to my rescue, then why did those sailors run away?”

His eyes darkened with mischief. “They were cowards. Once they put you aside, they were quick to find out what an accomplished swordsman I am. One technique and they ran for their lives. There was no sport in it.”

She looked away. Masculine conceit was not something she wished to indulge. Men, she chided, could be so like children at times.

“Hmm...I see.” She managed a smile and looked up at him again. “I'm very grateful for your concern for my welfare.”

“A lady in distress is worth it. I was, however, worried that you might be unconscious for much longer.” He frowned. “What were you doing out there so late? You should know it is dangerous by the docks at night.”

“I know. I was to meet someone there.”

“A man?”

She nodded. “
Oui
.”

“Any man who directs a lady to that side of town at that hour is either desperate or an idiot.”

She smiled. “Well, desperation comes to mind...”

“Was he a suitor?” he inquired.

Perhaps she had said too much. “Really,
Capitaine
Hill. I would not think it would be of interest to you.”

“Call me Grant,
Mademoiselle
. I merely feel this man was in some way out to do you harm. Most civilized men would never lead you there.”

“I fear I am somewhat responsible for being there.”

An eyebrow rose skeptically. “’Twas not your suggestion surely.”

“No, but I was not well acquainted with this man. He very well could have been crazy.”

“And no doubt conniving.”

“Yes,” she replied softly. “It seems he set me up.”

He frowned. “They were hired?”

She nodded. A long silence stretched between them, but it did not bother her. She was content to lie back among the pillows. Her head throbbed, and her jaw ached terribly.

“
Mademoiselle
--”

“Fara.” His need for formality after all he'd done perturbed her.

“Fara,” he repeated easily, and she couldn't help thinking how intimate her name sounded on his lips, like the gentle sigh of a lover. She winced. Dear God, what was the matter with her? She could not think such things, even if he was terribly attractive. “How long have you been in your uncle's care?” he asked.

“Since my parents died...” Her voice broke on the note and she looked to the rafters for guidance.

His hand curved around hers in a gesture of sympathy. “I am sorry. How did it happen?”

“As a child, my father traveled often on business and for that one trip, my mother went with him. I was left in the care of my nursemaid for it was only to be a short while. On their way back from Turkey, their ship was taken by pirates. Few survived.

“My parents never made it back to Marseille. I was sent to live here with my uncle in La Rochelle. The law claimed that I was to be placed in the home of the next of kin. I was eight then.”

He pulled his hand away. “And now you are of marrying age...”

“
Oui
,” she agreed, trying to pull away from the pain of the past. She blinked and then looked at Grant again.

His dark eyes filled with regret before he glanced away. “I, too, was orphaned at an early age.”

She grimaced. “How unfortunate for us both to have had this experience.”

He nodded, but rushed on as if to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable subject. “Have you no suitors?”

“I've had many, but I do not wish to become a man's chattel just yet.” She did not feel that admitting her affianced state would help matters. He already knew about
Monsieur
Le Croix’s plot.

“Not all men are like that,” he said softly.

“I've not met one who thinks women have minds of their own!” She angled her neck to glare at him, but his face was the picture of innocence and the slicing pain suddenly shot through her skull again. She gasped and winced.

“Now, Fara. It is time for you to rest. The ache will lessen by tomorrow.”

“
Oui
,” she agreed. The pain was intense and she didn't feel like arguing. She laid back and realized suddenly that her corset was very tight. She felt the heat rising over her cheekbones, but she knew he would not guess at her discomfort. “Grant?”

“
Oui
?”

“Where will you be sleeping?”

“Right here, if you do not mind.”

She swallowed. “Here? In this bed?” She drew in a sharp breath. Surely he was joking.

“That's right. Someone must look after you. You've had a fairly eventful evening, and if you have a concussion, I must fetch a physician right away. But, if you insist, I will find another place. Perhaps Eric will relinquish his quarters for the night...” His voice was soft, as if he was speaking to himself.

This man had saved her life and already she was pushing him out of his
cabin on
his
ship? It did not seem quite right. “No, I do not want you to do that, M
onsieur
.” She sighed. “We may share the bunk, Grant. It is quite simple.” She colored beneath his gaze. “Of course, you would have to be a gentleman about it.”

“I would not encroach...” His gaze traveled over her from head to toe.

It should have made her shudder; she should have been appalled at that kind of look, but it seemed almost normal in the intimacy of the moment. She felt gratitude for his rescue, but more, a part of her was comforted by the protection he provided. And she craved that safe haven desperately, or at least to hold on for it for a while, if only for tonight.

“You saved my life. It is only right that I give you something in return, if not a good night's rest.”

“You owe me nothing, Fara.”

“Tis' not the way I see it.”

“Very well.” He began to unbutton his cravat and white shirt and threw them aside. He bent to pull off his boots and then approached her. “Is there some way I may assist you, to make you more…comfortable?”

She hesitated a moment, unnerved by his half-naked state, and then went on. “I do have a predicament. My corset...it is dreadfully tight. If you would assist me, I should be very grateful.” She watched his lips part in surprise and he swallowed audibly.

“Of course.” He waited for her to sit up, and then bent to work at the buttons of her lavender dress.

His body was so near that his clean, male scent was almost intoxicating. An additional aroma wafted about too, musky like cigars. It reminded her of the ones she smelled when she passed by her uncle's office while he met with other men for business affairs.

Her breathing came faster and she struggled to control it. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and she half-wished it all to go away. But, she felt giddy with it too. It was almost a sense of invincibility as his gentleness was lover-like.

He eased the fabric away and when she leaned forward to assist him, he bent over her still to work at the bands of her corset and his hands splayed across her lower back.