Читать книгу Captain Rose’s Redemption - Georgie Lee - Страница 11

Chapter Two

‘It isn’t wise to dine alone with him, Lady Shepherd,’ Dr Abney cautioned from where he stood guarding the door. She and the Virginian surgeon had become friends during the crossing. He was one of the few people who’d heard the rumours about her in London and chosen not to believe them. Cassandra appreciated his fatherly attitude and the many pieces of advice he’d offered her about returning to Williamsburg since they’d set sail.

‘I have no more choice in whether to join him than you did in assisting his surgeon.’ Cassandra sat on the edge of Dinah’s bed, stroking her daughter’s dark hair and watching the child’s eyelids flutter while she slept. Jane stood on the other side, her small face with the snub nose still white with fright.

‘I understand, but others may not see it the same way and think you went to him willingly. It might bring you more heartache than you left behind in London.’

Cassandra paused in her stroking of Dinah’s hair. She was going to him willingly because he’d asked her to in exchange for the crew and the passengers’ freedom, not because he’d demanded it, but it didn’t change her lack of choice in the matter. Her daughter was her most prized possession and the only good to come from her marriage and she would do anything to protect her. ‘If I have to meet privately with Captain Rose to ensure we reach Virginia, and Dinah has a real home and a future, then I will.’

‘What future will she have if you are ruined?’

She leaned down and kissed Dinah’s chubby cheek, then rose to face Dr Abney. ‘Belle View plantation is mine and nothing, not rumours, my reputation or any man, can take it away from me.’ Though heaven knew what condition she’d find it in once she reached it. ‘Besides, if there’s one thing that can always be counted on, either in London or in Williamsburg, it’s the English love of titles and land. Thankfully, I possess both.’ It was money she lacked. She had enough fine gowns and jewellery to give the illusion of wealth so necessary for securing one’s place in society, but it wouldn’t last for ever. She hoped it worked in Williamsburg long enough for her to succeed for it was the only card she had to play.

She wandered to the window, desperate for a cool breeze to ease the heat. On either side of the open pane, the swirled leaded glass distorted the view of the water. The cloying humid air sat heavy over the ship and she dabbed her sweat-soaked chest with a small handkerchief, unable to find relief. The prospect of facing all the old ghosts waiting for her in Virginia unnerved her as much as the man she was about to dine with. ‘Captain Rose gave me his word that no harm will come to any of us and so far he’s kept his promise.’

‘Then for your sake, I pray he continues to do so.’

‘Me, too.’ She smoothed her hands over the light blue silk of her robe à la française, trying not to let Dr Abney’s concerns increase hers. If the Captain proved as untrustworthy as Giles, it would add another salacious story to the ones from London already trailing her like a wake behind a ship and make everything she hoped to regain in Williamsburg that much more difficult.

A knock at the door tightened the already strained air of the room.

‘Enter.’ Cassandra faced the door, lacing her hands together in front of her. She’d changed from her simple cotton day dress to a deep maroon silk one, with lace along the half sleeves and silver embroidered flourishes on the skirt and bodice. Although it was heavier and hotter than the other, it was thicker in the front and wider at the hips, revealing less of her narrow waist. The bodice was a touch higher, but it still emphasised a good deal more of her décolletage than she would have liked. Witty conversation was how she intended to charm Captain Rose into keeping his promise to send them on their way, not the more carnal assets Giles had once accused her of using to ensnare lovers. As loathsome as her late husband’s touch had been, there hadn’t been anyone but him. It no longer mattered. By wearing the fine gown, she’d give Captain Rose the cultured dinner partner he’d asked for. Besides, if he proved to be a rogue, none of her gowns, no matter how high the bodice or how wide the skirt, would stop him from taking what he wanted.

The man with the Monmouth cap entered, tugging at the dirty red scarf tied around his neck while he struggled to keep his eyes on hers and not her chest. ‘Mr Rush, milady. I’m to escort you to the Devil’s Rose.’

Cassandra took a steadying breath. She must be brave for Dinah’s sake and for everyone else aboard the Winter Gale. ‘Then let’s be off.’

Mr Rush offered her his arm. ‘Milady, if I may?’

She slid the slender walnut pistol box off the table and tucked it under her arm, wondering why Captain Rose had asked her to bring it. There were more valuable items he could take from her, though two fine weapons were probably of more use to a pirate than jewellery. She placed her free hand on Mr Rush’s coarse, sea-spray-stiffened coat and allowed him to lead her on deck and to an unknown fate.

The Winter Gale crew, guarded by the pirates, watched Cassandra and Mr Rush walk side by side to the wide planks laid between the ships. Pity filled a few of the older men’s eyes, but she ignored them as she’d ignored the vicious stares and whispers of London society. The plank bobbed and rolled while the two ships, held together by grappling hooks and lines, tossed about on the sea. Captain Rose stood on the other side, some of his men flanking him at the balustrade, the change in him from earlier remarkable.

He wore a black frock coat without facing. A row of silver buttons curved down along the front and decorated the bootleg cuffs folded back to reveal his large hands. A red waistcoat hugged his trim torso, the line of it broken by a wide belt pulled down on one side by the weight of his sword. Black breeches tucked into tall cuffed boots covered his long legs. The severity of his dark attire was lightened by the white shirt beneath his waistcoat and the silver embroidery about the edge of the tricorn he wore low over his forehead to meet his mask. His exposed cheeks and jaw beneath the mask revealed a smooth face freshly shaved. If she hadn’t seen him an hour ago, his shirt wild and loose about him, his hair hanging to his shoulders, she might have mistaken him for any gentleman in a ballroom in Mayfair.

When she approached the plank, he examined her with a gaze intense enough to ignite every cask of gunpowder on the ship. Panic gripped her harder than when the pirates had first burst through the door, and her hand tightened on Mr Rush’s arm. She wanted to rush back to the cabin and reload the pistols, but she held her ground, refusing to reveal her fear to everyone, especially Captain Rose.

‘You needn’t worry,’ Mr Rush offered when they stopped before the plank. ‘Captain Rose is a gentleman. No harm will come to you.’

The older man’s faith in his Captain bolstered hers and her courage. With Captain Rose and both crews watching, she couldn’t turn back or betray her word and risk placing the ship, herself and Dinah in danger. ‘Thank you for your concern, it’s very much appreciated.’

‘I’ll hold the box while you cross.’

She handed Mr Rush the pistol case, then took his hand and stepped up on to the plank. The timbers of the ships and the thick ropes lashing them together groaned and creaked with the movement of the swell and every once in a while the hulls banged together, sending up a small spray of water.

Captain Rose stepped up on to the plank on his side. He clutched the rigging in one hand and offered Cassandra the other. She ignored it and took hold of the sides of her dress and began to walk regally across the splintered wood. She didn’t look down, aware that if she fell between the ships they might slam together and crush her. She was halfway across the boards when the Winter Gale lurched, throwing her off balance.

In a flash of black fabric, Captain Rose caught her about the waist and whirled her around to set her on the deck of the Devil’s Rose. He held her close, his arm tight about her waist, his wide chest hard against her stomach. The potent smell of sandalwood shaving soap and leather surrounding him made her dizzier than the near fall. He’d been imposing in the confines of the cabin with little more than the distance of the pistols between them. With his body pressed against hers, the fine wool of his frock coat brushing her bare chest above her bodice, he was overwhelming.

‘The trick is to move quickly.’ His husky voice rumbled deep inside her. She peered up at him, her breath stolen by his closeness. His suntanned skin showed no evidence of the weathered grit of a sailor too long at sea and the fine colour of it heightened the black of his hair. She shouldn’t think a rogue striking, but she did.

‘Thank you.’ She inhaled the spice of wood and salt emanating from him and another memory, faint like the fading scent of smoke, rose up in the back of her mind. It was of Uncle Walter’s Williamsburg garden and the flowering dogwood tree in the centre of it. Beneath it stood Uncle Walter’s young apprentice solicitor waiting to steal a kiss from her. That young man was dead, but this one was very much alive, his chest hard beneath her fingertips, his thigh firm against hers.

She tucked her fingers in against her palms, resisting the urge to slide them up over his stoic chin, across his angled cheeks and under the silk to reveal his face. She wanted to see the gentleman beneath the pirate, to view the full effect of the sharp, straight nose covered by the black silk and the intense blue eyes making her recall so many things she longed to forget.

She lowered her hands and his grip on her eased. She stepped out of his embrace, steadying herself against the roll of the ship and the enticing power of him. He wasn’t a curiosity, but her enemy, and she must remember it and remain on guard.

Mr Rush crossed with the box and handed it to his Captain.

Captain Rose tucked the pistol case under one arm and offered her the other. ‘Shall we?’

‘Yes, please.’

The supple wool of his dark jacket shifted beneath Cassandra’s palm with each sure step of his boots during the walk to his cabin. She matched his stride, holding her head high as if they were parading across Hyde Park and not a pirate ship. The crew stood at respectful attention, with only the weasel Mr Barlow leering as though he expected Captain Rose to ravish her in plain view. She should have shot the nasty man, but heaven knew what repercussions his death would have brought down on her, Dinah and the crew of the Winter Gale. Even now she couldn’t say what fate awaited her. Alone, with the door to Captain Rose’s cabin firmly closed, she would be at his mercy. However, the lives of many depended on her being a pleasant and charming guest, so with purpose she swept across the threshold and into the semi-darkness of his cabin.

A bank of diamond-shaped glass windows made up the far wall of the narrow cabin situated at the back of the ship. A faded, red-velvet curtain graced the top of the window, cascading down each side and edged with faded gold tassels. One end hung next to a small desk, the other end pooled near the head of the narrow bed built into the hull. Her attention darted from the sumptuous pillows and fine coverlet to the small, square table in the middle of the room. A woven rug lay beneath it and two sturdy nail-head-trimmed chairs flanked either side. An assortment of exotic fruits including pineapples covered the well-set table. Everything from the silverware beside each plate to the books arranged on the desk spoke of the refined tastes of a gentleman, not the vulgar clutter of a hardened sailor new to comfort. It was a strange contradiction. He was commanding, but he hadn’t forced her; charming and yet violent; a scoundrel and at the same time a man of station. She wondered what had driven him to this life. Perhaps through witty conversation and grace of manners she could bring out more of the gentleman she was sure he’d once been and appeal to him for her and the Winter Gale’s freedom.

‘Do you approve?’ He set the walnut box down beside a pewter service at one end of the table, then pulled out a chair.

‘It’s far more refined than I expected.’ She sat down, conscious of how close he stood, his hands near her shoulders, the cuffs of his coat brushing against her skin when he slid the chair in until the seat touched the back of her thighs. She glanced over her shoulder at him towering above her, dark and impressive, her curiosity giving her more to consider than her worries that he might turn on her at any moment, and a reason for her to be brave and bold. She sensed he would respect her for it. ‘Though it’s ill-gotten.’

* * *

Richard trilled his fingers once on the chair, then gripped the leather tight. The delicate curve of her bare shoulders above the bodice of the dress was so close that if he reached out one finger he could touch it. The skin would be warm, but not her reaction. The uncertainty in her eyes when she’d stepped out of his embrace on deck had undermined her defiant crossing of the planks. She was afraid of him, but determined to show otherwise. He could remove the mask and prove that she had nothing to fear, but he didn’t. Despite her having upheld her end of the bargain, being a charming partner at dinner was one thing. Colluding with a pirate in a place as hostile to them as Virginia was quite another. Until he was sure he could win her to his cause, he would remain Captain Rose. A woman scorned could be a lethal enemy in Virginia at a time when he needed all the allies he could cultivate.

‘Not as ill-gotten as the way the Virginia Trading Company obtained it through the misery of slaves, seamen and countless other ruined lives.’ He let go of the chair and took his seat across the table from her.

She raised her rich eyes framed by dark lashes to meet his. ‘You dislike the Virginia Trading Company?’

He opened and closed his hand beneath the table, thinking he should have stayed behind her and not faced her. The white mounds of her breasts were supple and smooth against the dark fabric of her gown, tempting him to break from her gaze and admire them. ‘I do. Their ships are the only ones I attack. The others I let go.’

‘Why?’ She tilted her head to view him, making the teardrops of her earrings brush the line of her delicate jaw. ‘Were you an officer on one of their ships and the Captain disciplined you too harshly?’

He tapped the chair’s arm, wishing he could taste a little of her discipline again. ‘No.’

‘Then a rival perhaps, a gentleman of some means who had his own company but couldn’t keep it in the face of competition?’ She speared a piece of pineapple off her plate with the fork and set it between her lips, using her teeth to draw it off the tines.

Richard, his pulse racing in his ears as well as places lower down, took hold of the thin neck of the wine decanter and reached over to fill the crystal goblet in front of her. Its red depths danced with the candlelight from the chandelier above the table, the heady vintage as tempting as her. ‘No.’

She set down the fork, rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers beneath her chin. The delicate lengths of them almost begged Richard to take them in his calloused hands and kiss the tips of each one the way he used to do during their afternoons in the Belle View barn. How beautiful she’d been beneath him then, her languid body curled around his, eager and ready for him. ‘Then tell me why?’

The amethyst jewels around her neck winked with the candlelight and the largest of the descending teardrops rested between the swells of her full breasts. One close to her throat had turned over, hiding the gem. He reached across the table and righted it, his fingers lightly brushing her neck and bringing a chill to her skin and his. ‘Because not all scoundrels sail under a black flag.’

She didn’t lean away despite the nervousness flickering through her eyes, but met his steady gaze. ‘How unfortunate I chose one of their ships for my passage.’

‘If you hadn’t, we may not have met.’ He raised his wineglass to her. She held up her goblet before taking a sip, watching him over the rim of the crystal, except it wasn’t her sparkling eyes that held his attention, but the gold wedding band sitting like an ugly scar on her finger. It killed the desire for her coursing through his body. ‘What does your husband think of you sailing by yourself?’

He nearly choked on the word husband and everything it meant. She was not his to enjoy and tease, she hadn’t been for a long time and all because of the choices he’d made. It didn’t matter—nothing did except securing her help. She’d be no use to him if her lord and master put a stop to things.

She set down the wine and glanced at the ring as if she wanted to snatch the cursed thing from her finger and hurl it into the sea. ‘He thinks nothing of it. He’s dead.’

Richard sat back in shock, her reason for being at sea and on her way home suddenly clear. He’d despised the man who’d taken his place, but he didn’t want Cas to suffer in mourning. She didn’t deserve it—however, the man’s being gone would make many things so much easier. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’

‘I’m not. He did nothing but make my life miserable.’ She stared at the reflection of the candles in the surface of the wine, the shape of them widening and narrowing with each tilt of the ship making the liquid sway. The teasing, alluring woman from a moment ago was gone, revealing the wounded one she’d hidden so well with her bravery and her charming words, the one he’d failed to recognise because he’d been too intent on getting what he wanted.

Just like when he’d left her at Yorktown five years ago.

Richard picked at the nail head on his chair, a guilt washing over him such as he hadn’t experienced since the first time he’d taken a ship what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was quickly proving to be as big a bastard as his enemy. ‘I’m sorry things did not turn out as you would have liked.’

‘It’s been a long time since anything has.’ Defeat draped her like a sail cut loose from a mast. It was the same futility he’d experienced when word had reached him of her marriage and then of his father’s death. Regret crept along the back of his mind, resisting all his efforts to kill it. He’d worked hard for so long to dampen those emotions because there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. He could change things today. He’d done nothing to earn the right to ask her for any favour, especially one that might cause her more grief than Richard’s selfishness had already visited upon her. Let Walter tell her the truth in his own time, if at all. It would keep her untarnished by the hate enveloping Richard and grant her some peace of mind.

He rose, ready to escort her back to the Winter Gale, to bid her goodbye as he had five years ago, except this time she was ignorant of who he was and he was all too aware that they would not meet again. ‘I hope you find solace with your family in Virginia.’

She slowly spun the amethyst bracelet she wore around her delicate wrist, then spoke in so low a voice he almost didn’t hear her. ‘I have no family in Virginia.’

Every sense that told him when an enemy ship was approaching on the horizon raised the hairs along the back of his neck, and he pressed his fingertips into the top of the table. ‘What?’

‘My uncle, my only family, was sick with a fever,’ she choked through heavy words. ‘He died three months ago.’

Richard worked to steady himself as everything around him came apart like a ship in a hurricane. Walter Lewis, his only ally in the colonies, was gone and with him went Richard’s greatest chance of seeing himself and his men exonerated, and Vincent ruined. Panic filled him, and he struggled to keep it under control.

Before Richard could speak, Cassandra jumped to her feet, making the plates on the table rattle. ‘I’ve entertained you at supper as you asked. Will you let us go now?’

Her plea didn’t move him this time and neither did the anguish in her eyes. Everything Richard had spent the last five years working to accomplish teetered on the edge of ruin and he would not see it go over the side. He balled his hands into fists. Vincent had defeated him once before. He wouldn’t allow Walter’s death to let him do it again. ‘No, Cas, I’m afraid I can’t, not yet.’

* * *

Cassandra gripped the side of the table as the ship tilted. ‘What did you call me?’

He reached up and untied the strings of his mask, allowing the silk to slide down his face and drop to the floor.

‘Richard!’ It couldn’t be, but it was. ‘You’re alive!’

Hard work at sea had broadened his chest and arms and everything else about him. The sun had lightened his hair, making some strands near red, and turned his skin tawny. His eyes were almost the same except for the small lines about the corners and the steel of experience hardening them. She wouldn’t believe it was him if it weren’t for the small scar beneath his left eye formerly hidden by the mask. It was a reminder of a wherry accident from when he was a boy, a tale his father had laughingly recounted to her once when she and Uncle Walter had dined at Sutherland Place in the early days of their engagement. Tears blurred her vision. During too many lonely nights Richard’s memory had haunted her and made her wail over their lost future. She’d cursed the sea for luring him away and when the strangling weight of her marriage bonds had chafed, Richard’s memory had fed the faint hope she might some day find happiness again. It had all been a lie, like Giles’s love during their courtship and Lord and Lady Chatham’s concern for her. ‘When they said you’d turned from privateer to pirate, I thought they were mistaken. I told everyone you were innocent. I lost friends and was ridiculed because of my faith in you and all along they were right.’

‘No, they weren’t.’ He banged his fist against the table, overturning a bowl and sending the oranges inside it rolling across the table and on to the floor. ‘I was innocent. I am innocent.’

‘You aren’t. Look at you. I wish you had died, then I could remember the man who loved me and not this...’ she flapped her hand at him, no name black enough to describe what he’d become ‘...pirate.’

‘I didn’t choose this life,’ he hissed with a fierceness to make her shift further behind the chair. ‘I and my crew were forced into it by Vincent Fitzwilliam and I have no choice but to live it until either he’s ruined or I’m dead.’

‘How can that be?’

‘The ship we attacked was a Virginia Trading Company sloop shipping cargo under Dutch colours and a forged Dutch pass. We attacked it because the Dutch had joined the war and their ships were fair prizes. I didn’t realise what Vincent was doing until I saw the Captain’s papers. By then it was too late. The Captain escaped in a launch and made it to Virginia before I could. To protect himself, Vincent had me and my men declared pirates and bounties placed on our heads. His company was foundering under the weight of his father’s gambling debts and when the embargo was issued against the French, shipping cargo illegally under a Dutch flag was the only way he could maintain his business. He sank me, his oldest friend, to save himself.’

‘If you had the fake papers, then why didn’t you fight the charges?’

‘Vincent had the Governor’s ear—he still does—and his Captain’s testimony. I had nothing except my ship, my men and my disgraced word.’ He pressed his fist into his hips, his fury easing, but not the tightness along his shoulders. ‘I renamed the Maiden’s Veil the Devil’s Rose and we’ve plundered Virginia Trading Company ships in search of evidence and to destroy Vincent’s business ever since. What little evidence I’ve found I’ve sent to your uncle, hoping it would one day be enough for him to take to Lord Spotswood and see the man convicted and me and my men pardoned of all charges, but it hasn’t been enough.’

He bent his head in a frustration she could feel because like him, she knew what it was to fight and struggle and to keep failing. But she couldn’t comfort him, not with the realisation of the truth behind his words cruelly dawning on her.

‘Uncle Walter knew you were alive? He lied to me about your death?’ She dropped into the chair, her legs no longer able to support her and the grief weighing her down. Uncle Walter had been a steady rock for her to cling to in the midst of the storms of her life in Williamsburg after her parents’ deaths and again in London when his letters had offered advice and affection when no one else would. All the while he’d been lying to her, and in the cruellest of ways, like almost everyone she’d ever cared for including Richard, Giles and the Chathams.

Why am I not worthy of love and honesty? She longed to bury her face in her hands and cry, but she couldn’t. All she could do was continue on, as she always did, adding this new grief to the old ones already bruising her.

‘He lied to you and to my father because I didn’t want either of you to see what I was forced to become in order to destroy Vincent.’ He righted the bowl, his fingers lingering to trace the engraving on the edge of it. ‘I was aware of the dangers when I went to sea, how it could kill a man. I didn’t think it could destroy the very essence of who he is, or was.’

The pain of his strained words made her heartache slide away. The man she’d once loved was suffering in a way she understood and longed to ease. She laid a comforting hand on his and curled her fingertips to press against his palm. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t pull away. He clutched her hand in a firm embrace which reached deep into her soul. ‘Then leave this life. Take the money you’ve made from it and go to the islands and establish yourself as a planter. Many have done it before.’ And I could come with you. London, Williamsburg and all the torment of her past and the uncertainty of starting over at Belle View could be set aside. She would no longer be alone and he no longer a faded dream.

He brushed the back of her hand with his thumb, as tender as he’d been during all the evenings they’d spent together in the garden. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he would walk away from his ship and crew at her mere suggestion, but still she wished it might happen, as she’d done so many times since he’d first set sail, until she’d learned he was dead.

Then, he slid his hand out from under hers, drawing away like he used to when he’d tire of her arguments against his becoming a privateer. ‘Not until Vincent is ruined.’

She stepped back, fighting the urge to sweep the dishes from the table. He was choosing the sea over her again and not caring whether it destroyed them both. This wasn’t the Richard she used to cherish and, for the first time since she’d seen him come up the walk at her uncle’s house, she wondered if she’d been as wrong about him as she’d been about Giles. ‘It’s just like when you left before. All you care about is what you want and you don’t care who it hurts, not innocent travellers, yourself or me.’

He snatched the mask off the floor and gripped it hard in his fist, holding it out to her. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be accused of something you didn’t do and to have everything, your family, your property, your life, your very identity, stolen from you because of it.’

‘Yes, I do,’ she shot back, twisting the gold band on her finger. ‘Giles stole almost everything from me, my meagre dowry, my good name, my belief in his affection for me. He even tried to take Dinah away before he killed himself riding home drunk from his mistress’s house in the rain, but not even his death spared me from more pain and humiliation. Without a son to inherit, the estate went to a cousin and I was turned out and left with nothing except a reputation blackened by his mistress and her catty London friends. I’d never done anything wrong and it didn’t matter because he still ruined my life.’

Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away with the backs of her hands, refusing to appear more desperate and lonely than she already did. She still had her pride and the chance to rebuild her life. She had to believe in that for there was nothing else. She raised her chin to Richard in defiance, but her stiffness eased at the change in him.

His fury dimmed and he lowered his hand, opening his fist to let the silk drop to the floor. The man who’d stood beside her at her parents’ graves and listened to her wail over their loss and how it had irrevocably changed everything stood before her again. The life of a brigand had altered him almost beyond recognition, yet echoes of the old Richard remained in the softness of his expression while he studied her.

‘Your husband was a fool. He should have loved you and worshipped you, not cast you aside. He should have been faithful to you, not left you to be torn down by society.’ He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, the delicate touch burning her skin. She should knock his hand away, take up the knife beside her plate and stab him for what he’d done to her and countless others, but she didn’t, she couldn’t. His caress disturbed places long forgotten in her marriage and widowhood. It had been too many years since anyone had spoken to her of love and here it was on Richard’s lips, just as it had been in the Williamsburg garden a lifetime ago. They’d both been wounded, their innocence torn from them by the machinations of others and their own mistakes, but with his warm skin caressing hers, she could almost believe that if she pressed her lips to his she might regain everything they’d once meant to one another. She wouldn’t have to face the trials of life by herself and he wouldn’t be a rogue, but the man to help and protect her, to love her as he’d once vowed he would.

As if hearing her silent longing, he slid his fingers behind her neck and drew her to him. She closed her eyes and five years fell away when their lips met. She was sixteen again, her life and heart filled with love and promise. He was no longer a privateer captain turned pirate, but an apprentice to her uncle with a passion for the sea and eager to make his fortune so they could marry. Her tongue tasted his, the spice of wine still lingering on his lips. In the strength of his kiss there existed traces of the honourable Richard she’d loved, the one who might live again if he abandoned Captain Rose. It wasn’t possible, but with his arms around her, his hands firm against her back, she could almost imagine it was.

* * *

Richard broke from her kiss and rested his forehead on hers, the press of her against him like touching his old life. Except all of it was gone and there was no gaining it back. His father, Sutherland Place, his life in Virginia were only memories, just like Cas had been. Except she was here in his arms. For the first time in five years the possibility that there might be more for him in this world than revenge teased him like her fingertips did the back of his neck. Maybe he could reclaim something of what he’d lost, let his men go on to enjoy the treasure they’d collected, to raise families and own land and be free of the threat of the hangman’s noose. He could take his share of the money and become something more than an outlaw driven by hate, but a respected planter once again.

He rested his cheek against hers and over her shoulder caught sight of the desk and the folio with the Virginia Trading Company papers lying on top of it. Bitterness flooded in to kill his hope. If he walked away from this life to chase some dream, he would have to live every day with the knowledge that Vincent was out there, enjoying the very things he’d stolen from Richard, and all the misery Richard had brought on himself, his men and countless others would have been in vain.

‘Captain!’ Mr Rush called from outside, making the door rattle with a frantic knock. ‘Mr Tibbs has spied a Royal Navy ship. We must set sail at once.’

‘See to it, Mr Rush,’ Richard ordered, jerking back from Cas.

‘Aye, sir.’ Mr Rush’s voice faded as he hurried off, shouting orders to the men.

‘Our time together is over.’ Richard slid his arms from around Cas, addressing her with the same sharpness he did the passengers on other ships he’d taken—except she wasn’t like them. He dismissed the thought and the slight prick to his conscience. ‘I asked you for two favours in exchange for your freedom. I must insist on the second one.’

‘You can’t.’

‘With Walter dead, I have no choice.’

‘Of course you do. You always have a choice and, now that I see the kind of decisions you prefer, I thank you very much for sparing me from making the worst mistake of my life by marrying you.’

He ignored her jibe as he removed a pouch of money from the desk. He deserved her scorn, but it wouldn’t stop him from securing her help to bring Vincent down. This was why he’d brought her here and not for any other reason. ‘You will soon have control of the evidence I sent Walter. You must promise me you’ll safeguard it and help me when I request it.’

‘I won’t! Do you know what they’ll do to me if they discover I’m colluding with a pirate? I’ll be hanged and my daughter left an orphan with no one to care for her.’

He stamped out the guilt scratching at him the way he did every time he boarded a ship and faced the terrified souls on board. What he was doing was wrong and might cause her more heartache than anything he’d done before, but she was his only link to Virginia and he needed her help. ‘There are risks, but I will make it worth your while.’ He held up the leather pouch between them, the bottom sagging beneath the weight of the coins.

‘That’s blood money.’

‘If anyone’s hands are tainted, it’s Vincent. At least a small portion of it will finally go to good, to help you start over in Virginia.’ He gently encircled her wrist with his fingers and raised her hand to lay the sack in her palm. Her pulse raced beneath his fingertips and he waited for her to throw the money back at him along with a parcel of curses, but her fingers curled around it instead and he knew he had her. ‘I will only call on you if I absolutely have to and, when I do, there will be more.’

‘I don’t want it, or anything to do with you.’ She dropped the money on the floor.

He scooped it up and set it on the table beside the pistol box. He lifted one pistol out of its velvet bed and held it up between them. ‘This will be our signal. When I send this to you, you’ll follow the man who bears it and he’ll provide you with further information about what is required.’

He slipped the weapon into the deep pocket of his coat, binding her to him in a most dangerous way. He laid the money in the empty space in the case and closed and locked the lid.

‘The Richard I loved wouldn’t have done this.’

He pressed his fingers into the smooth surface. ‘That Richard is gone. Vincent killed him.’

‘No, you did!’ She snatched the case out from beneath his hands and clutched it to her chest, pinning him with a look more filled with hate than any captain or passenger he’d ever captured at sea.

He flashed her a wicked smile to conceal the remorse making her harsh words sting. ‘Take heart, Cas, I could be killed long before I ever call in my favour.’

‘I hope you are.’

* * *

Cassandra swept around him and out the door, marching across the deck and to the plank joining the two vessels. The pirate crew paid her little heed while they rushed to disengage the grappling hooks and ready the ship. Overhead, the large sail filled with wind and pulled the rigging taut. Over the noise, she caught the faint clink of the coins inside the case. She should open it and throw the money overboard, but to do so would mean revealing something of their conversation and the fact that she’d accepted money from a pirate.

I did it for Dinah. The money was significantly more than she presently possessed and it would help them start over in Virginia.

She hurried to the balustrade, ready to cross to the Winter Gale. No activity marred its deck where the sails and rigging lay torn and shattered. They needed the Royal Navy ship to reach them and help the sailors repair the mainmast before they could continue.

Dr Abney stood in front of the mess, anxiously waiting for her, his full cheeks sagging with relief when he saw her approach the rails. He’d warned her about going willingly to Richard, but she hadn’t listened. She wished she had, then Richard would have remained a treasured part of her past instead of another person who’d betrayed her.

In a few long strides Richard was beside her, his mask fixed over his face, his tricorn settled low over his forehead to further shade his eyes. They stopped at the plank and he took the box from her and tossed it across the gap to Dr Abney. Cassandra held her breath, hoping the lock didn’t break open and scatter the money about the deck. Dr Abney caught the box without reaction, unable to hear or feel the weight of the coins shifting inside over the noise of the sea and the pirates.

Cassandra gathered up the sides of her skirt, ready to rush across when Richard held out his hand to help her. She peered up at him, loss consuming her as it had when she’d watched him climb the gangplank to the Maiden’s Veil in Yorktown. He’d left her with promises that he’d return to her and she’d lived off their hope for so long, until there hadn’t been any more.

‘If things had been different, would you have come home to me? Would we have been happy together?’ she asked, desperate for something in her life to have been real and good.

He closed his fingers over his palm, then opened them again, still holding it out to her, silently urging her to accept it and his help. ‘Yes.’

The wind whipped at her, making her eyes water as much as her desire to weep. She despised what he’d become, but it pained her to let him go again. It was like learning of his death for a second time, except he wasn’t dead, but achingly beyond her reach. Beneath the black silk, in the touch of yellow about his irises, there lingered something of the man who’d almost become her husband, the one she’d been willing to wait for until he’d lied about his death.

I don’t believe in that man any more.

She brushed past him, stepped up on the plank and rushed across. On the other side, Dr Abney took her hand and helped her down, staying close beside her as she wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes.

‘My lady, are you all right?’ Concern made the lines of his face deepen. ‘He didn’t take liberties with you, did he?’

‘No. He was a perfect gentleman.’ Until he’d changed into a rogue and made it clear he wanted nothing more from her than her word.

She took the pistol box from Dr Abney and made for the Captain’s cabin and Dinah. Behind her, Richard called out orders to his crew, his voice reverberating across the water even as the growing distance between the ships swallowed it. The sound of it called to her, but she didn’t look back. She refused to mourn him a second time.

* * *

Richard marched to the opposite side of the ship, unwilling to watch the Winter Gale, and yet another thing torn from him, disappear over the horizon. He gripped the rigging and leaned out over the rail to take in the salty air. Even in the stiff breeze the echoes of Cassandra’s rosewater-scented skin continued to torture him.

‘Captain?’ Mr Rush approached him. ‘We’ve caught a good wind and should outrun the Navy vessel. Mr O’Malley wants to know what course to plot.’

Richard stared out at the whitecaps breaking over the tops of the wind-driven chop, ignoring the weight of the pistol in his coat pocket. The news of Walter’s death and Cas’s appearance had hit him broadside like a wave, but he wouldn’t let it capsize him, nor would he pine for her like some abandoned dog. Let her return to Virginia cursing him. It made no difference as long as she helped him. He couldn’t be certain she would until the moment came to send her the pistol. Until then, like the rest of his past, his time with her was over. With the evidence in jeopardy, he must find another way to ruin Vincent. He’d promised his crew they’d clear their names and have a future free from the threat of the gallows. It was a promise he would damn well keep. ‘Set a course for Nassau, Mr Rush. Let’s find out if those rumours of Vincent trading with pirates are true.’