Читать книгу Pirate's Daughter, Rebel Wife - June Francis - Страница 10

Harry swung into the saddle, determined not to blame himself for all that had befallen Bridget since they had parted in Ireland. Yet it was true that if he had not been prepared to pay her passage to Scotland in order for her to stay with her uncle and aunt, then her life would have been different. He remembered wanting to kiss Bridget’s luscious mouth when they had first met. Even later when she had insulted him, he had wanted to grab a handful of that red hair of hers that was aflame as if it had caught fire from the sparks that seemed to fly from her in her rage and disappointment and kiss her soundly. How very different both their lives would have been if he had surrendered to his desire. But he still thought he had been right to not take her aboard his ship. A man needed to be totally focused to survive on such a perilous journey.

Harry frowned. He had little faith in Callum having survived the northern ocean in autumn despite his having told Bridget to keep her hopes alive. He was going to have to take responsibility for her, but if she knew he was Captain Black Harry, he sensed she might do something desperate rather than accept his help. She would very likely run away from him and end up in further trouble. He had to think up a plan that would ensure her safety, not just for the next week or two, but for the future. In the meantime he had to ensure that she did not realise he was the man she appeared to despise.

Bridget stirred, wondering what had disturbed her sleep. She could hear a bird singing and eased herself into a sitting position. She had been dreaming of Captain Black Harry and it was not anger she had felt, but a wild excitement. She supposed it was to be expected that she would dream of him now she was here on Madeira where his ship had last been seen. Where was he now? There had been a time after he and her father had set sail when she could not get him out of her mind.

This latest dream had shocked her and she could only believe that her mind was playing tricks on her. There was no way that she would ever take Black Harry as a lover after what he’d done to her.

Besides, she knew the man’s real identity, which was one of the reasons she had set out in search of him and her father, as Harry himself was unaware of it. She had initially been accompanied by Lady Elizabeth Stanley, who had befriended her when she was in London, her ladyship’s maid, Hannah, and Joshua Wood, a childhood friend of Black Harry, whose real name had turned out to be Harry Appleby. Shockingly, he was heir to a manor in Lancashire and a house and business in London, so no doubt he would not consider her good enough for him. How could she even imagine him making love to her in the light of all these facts? She must be mad!

Her eyes roamed the room and she noticed that the bowl and drying cloth had been removed. She must have fallen into a deep sleep, indeed, to have been unaware of the captain or Joe’s entry. How long had she slept? She needed to speak to the captain. What was his name? Her wits had indeed gone begging for her not to have asked that simple question.

She heard voices outside and looked towards the window. The shutters were wide open, allowing sunlight and a flower–scented breeze into the room, along with birdsong. She wanted to be up and doing and longed to be outside in the fresh air. Suddenly she noticed her green gown and silk shift on the chest and her face lit up. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

Her knees shook and she realised that she was still weak from her illness, but, by holding on to the bed, she managed to reach its foot and sank down on to the chest. Her fingers fastened on the skirt of her gown and she drew it towards her, along with her shift. She held them to her face and breathed in the smell of the ocean breeze and that of lavender. She wasted no more time, but dragged off the captain’s shirt and hastened to pull the shift over her head. It proved more difficult putting on her gown, due to the weight of its skirts.

Once dressed, Bridget felt much better, so decided to unbraid her hair and let it hang loose. If only she had the company of another female to help wash and comb it. She had spent most of her childhood with women until her Irish mother, Mary, had died and her father had taken her with him on his ship, due to his fear of her being abducted by one of the rival Irish clans. She recalled her excitement and had looked forward to a more interesting life. She’d had to familiarise herself with his ship and become accustomed to all–male company. The crew had spoilt her and she had come to feel less awkward in the company of men, to love the sea and visiting new places. She had admired her big strong red–haired father, but never forgot the long weeks that she and her mother had spent waiting for his return from sea. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of all that was lost to her. She could very likely be an orphan now.

There came a knock on the door. ‘May I come in?’

Bridget recognised the captain’s voice and her heart leapt. Swiftly she wiped her face, not wanting him to consider her a weak female. It had been a mistake, thinking of the past. It was the present and future that were important. She must persuade this man to help her further.

‘Please do, Captain,’ she called.

The door opened and he stood, gazing at her with an expression in his indigo eyes that brought a blush to her cheeks. ‘You are dressed and looking much improved in health, Mistress McDonald. I deem that you are almost fit to leave this place,’ he said.

The colour drained from her face; it appeared to her that he would be rid of her that day and she was not ready to cope alone just yet. Despite her wanting to be up and doing, this house had proved to be a safe haven. How could she possibly manage alone and penniless in a foreign land?

She cleared her throat. ‘I do understand, Captain, your wanting to be rid of me because you have your business to attend to—but I must confess my limbs are still a little weak. I much appreciate your hospitality. I only wish I could reimburse you, but I have no money. Yet if you are prepared to continue to help me, then I will see that you are rewarded.’

‘I ask for no reward,’ he said abruptly. ‘You look pale and still need to rest.’

‘I am better than I was,’ she murmured, tilting her chin.

There was a silence.

‘You are English, Captain, and have told me that you were one of my father’s shipmates. Does that mean you were once a pirate, too?’

Harry stiffened. ‘Never.’

She flushed with embarrassment for she felt as if she had insulted him. She cleared her throat. ‘May I ask why you decided to live here on Madeira? You never thought of sailing home with my father?’

‘No, he never took me into his confidence before he disappeared. By the purest stroke of luck, I was able to perform a service to the owner of this villa whilst on the other side of the world. There was a skirmish with the natives and I saved his life. We conversed and discovered we had a common ambition, so that is why I set sail in company with him and his companions for Madeira.’

‘What was this ambition of yours?’ she asked.

‘I wished to sail around the coast of Africa to the Indies. I hope that answer will suffice for the moment. Right now I would know more about you and how you came to be captured by pirates.

She sighed and plucked at her skirts. ‘When I set out from London in search of my father, I had three companions and we were accompanied by another ship. Unfortunately the vessels were separated by a storm and our ship was attacked by pirates. Our captain was killed and so were several members of the crew.’

He frowned. ‘And your companions?’

‘Certainly, owing to her station, Lady Elizabeth should have been ransomed, but I do not know what might have happened to Hannah, her maid, and Joshua Wood, who was also in her service. I was separated from them, you see. They remained on the captured ship and I was taken on to the pirates’ vessel to be sold to the slavers.’

‘It is possible Joshua Wood might have been forced to join the pirates.’

‘I see.’ Bridget sighed. ‘Tell me, Captain—do you know what happened to Captain Black Harry?’

Harry’s heart leapt. He had been waiting for this moment and he still did not know how to answer the question. His dark brows knit and he folded powerful arms across his broad chest. ‘I had almost forgotten you knew the captain. This Joshua Wood, you admired him?’

Bridget gave him a startled look. ‘He was a good man. Dependable.’

Harry felt a curl of envy. ‘A handsome man?’

‘I would say pleasant, rather than handsome.’

‘You were fond of him?’ he pressed.

She frowned, wondering why he asked such questions of Joshua. ‘I liked him. As I have told you, he was a good man, not the kind to force himself on a woman like some,’ she added, dropping her gaze and gripping her hands tightly together.

Harry thought of the slave trader and wished he had him there in front of him, so he could punch him in the face, but all he said was, ‘I am glad to hear it. This Lady Elizabeth—what is her full name?’

Bridget pulled herself together. ‘Lady Elizabeth Stanley. She is related to the King of England.’

Surprise flared in Harry’s eyes. ‘A rare prize, indeed, for a pirate. I deem you have no need to fear for her life. She will certainly have been ransomed. It is a pity she did not arrange for you to be ransomed, too.’

Bridget nodded. ‘But the fault was not hers that I was taken away by the pirates and I know she was deeply concerned for me. In the past she was exceedingly kind to me. When I escaped from my uncle I was able to help in the rescue of her goddaughter, Rosamund, who was abducted by her stepbrother around that time. Afterwards, her ladyship offered to be of assistance to me. I became part of her household and she took my problems to heart and decided to accompany me on my search for my father and Captain Black Harry. Only on the way …’ She became agitated and jumped to her feet. ‘You can have no notion of what it is like to be desired by men who have you in their power! What I had to do just to survive …’

Harry reached out and was compelled to take her by the shoulders. He gazed down into her face and slowly lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. ‘You are very beautiful.’

Bridget closed her eyes and allowed her face to rest against his hand. ‘Beauty can be a bane,’ she whispered, thinking of the time when even Black Harry had looked at her with a delighted expression on his handsome face. She opened her eyes and looked up into the captain’s bearded face. ‘Do you know the whereabouts of Black Harry?’ she asked again with a troubled look.

Harry released her. ‘He no longer exists.’

‘What!‘ Bridget was taken aback. ‘When did this happen? Did he die recently or was he lost in the New World and someone else took over his ship?’

Harry was surprised by her reaction. ‘You sound like you care what happened to him. Yet earlier I received the impression that you despised him, so why should it matter to you if he is dead?’

‘There are those I know in England who will be saddened to hear of his death,’ she said.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you talk of his family, he has none.’

‘How do you know that? He had lost his memory and could not remember his family,’ she said with a toss of her head, causing her glorious hair to swirl about her shoulders. ‘If only he had not separated me from my father and gone to the New World.’

Harry’s gaze fixed on her hair and he longed to touch it and run his fingers through it. Instead he clenched his fists. ‘No doubt when last you confronted each other, you were showing all the signs of burgeoning womanhood.’

Bridget flushed. ‘What are you suggesting? That he thought I would have an unsettling effect on his crew?’

He raised his eyebrows in a speaking manner. ‘No doubt he was aware that a woman’s needs are very different from a man’s and to be the only female on a long voyage would have presented you with problems.’

She knew he was right about that, but was not going to admit it. ‘I would have coped, Captain. A woman can adapt to difficult situations the same as a man.’

‘I am not disputing your courage and stamina, Mistress McDonald, but a woman cannot help but practise her feminine wiles on a man in order to get him to do what she wishes.’

Bridget’s jaw dropped and, for a moment, she was speechless and hurt that he could believe that of her. ‘Are you daring to suggest that I am a coquette?’ she demanded. ‘I thought you were different from other men because you have been kind to me, but I see now that I was mistaken. I will seek help elsewhere. I have been called a witch in the past and accused of putting a spell on a man. The slave trader was typical of a certain kind of man who blames the object of their lust, without caring what damage they do to a woman. No doubt Black Harry was the same.’

Harry’s jaw tightened. ‘You do him an injustice when he cannot defend his reputation. I understand why you were desperate enough to jump into a raging sea, but I am not like that slave trader. Anyway, if you prefer to manage without any further help from me then I will leave you alone to consider your options.’ He left the bedchamber, closing the door carefully behind him.

If there had been anything close by that she could have picked up and thrown at him, Bridget would have done so. She wanted to scream at him. How could he not understand how much his words had hurt her? She had done everything possible to hide her feminine charms from the pirate crew but little good it had done her. When she had fought off the advances of the ones who had tried to steal a kiss from her, she had been repaid with a beating.

She dropped on to the bed, wondering how she could get off this island without the captain. She remembered Black Harry paying for her passage to Scotland, so she could leave Ireland as her father had wished her to do. She had to admit that it was strange behaviour on Black Harry’s part if he really had lusted after her. She recalled how strong and indestructible he had appeared as he had stood on the quayside last time she had seen him. It seemed wrong that two such strong men as he and her father could now be dead.

A lump filled her throat and she wanted to weep. She must return to Black Harry’s friend, the Baron Dalsland, in England, but what sad news she would be taking with her to the Baron and his wife, Rosamund, who was Black Harry’s sister—the sister he did not know existed. Joshua, too, would be disappointed, as would Lady Elizabeth—that is if they were still alive. She wondered if they believed she, herself, was lost to them for ever.

A tear trickled down her cheek. Perhaps it would be better if she did not return to England because then she would not have to give them such disappointing and sad news. But that was a cowardly thought and she must consider some way she could get back to them.

She wondered if she were to get down on her knees and kiss the captain’s feet and beg his pardon he would extend his helping hand to her again. Her proud nature baulked at the very notion of behaving in the way she had been forced to act whilst in the power of the pirate chieftain when she had rebelled against his orders. Fortunately, where he was concerned her beauty had saved her from rape, because she was worth more to him as a virgin.

A knock on the door and her heart began to race and she felt quite faint at the thought of coming face to face with her host again. He was beginning to have the most odd effect on her. Had he returned to tell her that he did indeed want her out of the house immediately?

‘Who is it?’ she asked in a trembling voice.

‘It’s Joe.’

She felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. ‘Come in.’

He opened the door and peered round it cautiously. ‘The captain said that you were vexed. He told me to make sure not to get too close to you with a knife.’

His words came as such an anticlimax that Bridget laughed. ‘Your captain jests. I would not hurt you, Joe. I look upon you as my friend.’

‘Honestly?’ He pushed the door wider with his hip and came further into the bedchamber. ‘I’ve got no female friends, but I’ve food here that’s real appetising. It’ll nourish you and make you strong.’

‘I suppose you don’t get a chance to become acquainted with a suitable lass being away at sea so long,’ said Bridget.

‘Aye. But, to be honest, I don’t know what to say to lasses, unlike some of the crew. Women and drink are the first things they think of as soon as we drop anchor in port.’ He reddened. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be talking to you about such matters …’ His voice trailed off and he looked even more embarrassed.

Bridget lowered her eyes and toyed with her fingers. ‘Does the captain go with women?’

Joe placed the tray on the chest and made for the door. ‘No, he steers clear of them. There was a woman he once loved, but she was in love with his closest friend.’ Joe looked guilty. ‘The captain would have me hide if he knew I was gossiping about him. Now you eat your fish and bread.’

Bridget gazed down at the pure white fillets swimming in a creamy herb sauce as if in a daze. ‘What kind of fish is it?’

‘Forget its name, but it has a real ugly head. Anyway, you’re not going to have to look at that because I chopped it off.’

‘Did you catch it yourself?’ she asked.

Joe grinned. ‘Aye. Captain’s too busy to go fishing. Time’s money and he reckons the winds will be blowing in the right direction soon to take us to Lisbon.’

The lad’s words made Bridget feel almost as desperate as she had felt when she had dropped into the sea. ‘Tell me, Joe, what is your captain’s name?’

‘We call him Captain Mariner.’

‘Mariner?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘But that is simply another name for a sailor.’

Joe nodded. ‘Aye, the captain was an orphan like me, so he chose his own name.’

Bridget supposed it made perfect sense. ‘And what’s your surname, Joe?’

‘I’m Joseph Cook because that’s what I am. I’ll leave you now, mistress, to enjoy your meal.’

After Joe left, Bridget forced herself to eat whilst she mulled over what he had told her. If the captain had naught to do with women, it meant that she was safe from any advances from him. She wondered about the woman he had loved and recalled the expression in his eyes when he had looked at her earlier. He was all man and no doubt could have made many a woman happy. She regretted speaking to him the way she had done now. He must have been deeply hurt when the woman had preferred his friend. Somehow she had to overcome his misgivings about her and convince him that it would serve him well to take her with him on his ship to Lisbon.

Harry stood outside Bridget’s bedchamber. He had calmed down and now regretted upsetting her. He should have taken her sufferings into more consideration and considered his words before he spoke. But he had spoken honestly when he had told her that she was beautiful. He desired her and wanted her for himself, but for the moment he had to keep those feelings under control. She was penniless, far from home and her situation was unlikely to improve if Callum was at the bottom of the ocean along with Harry’s ship and its crew. She might speak of friends in England, but that country was thousands of miles away. Her beauty, as she had said, was a hindrance rather than a help, and she needed protecting from other men. He could see only one way of ensuring such protection and security for the future. But if she knew him for who he really was, then she might reject his suggestion. If it were not for his beard, she might possibly have guessed who he was by now.

How long before she realised he was deceiving her? He had not actually lied to her when he’d told her that Black Harry no longer existed but she had reacted to the news as he intended, by believing that he had meant he was dead. Harry had always hated being called Black Harry and no one had called him by that name for years, so in a way he did no longer exist. Now Harry, as his alter ego, Captain Mariner, needed to apologise to Bridget McDonald if he was to lay his plan for their future before her. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his knuckles on the panel of the door and asked for permission to enter.

‘Of course, Captain Mariner, do come in,’ invited Bridget.

Perhaps he should not be surprised by the sweetness of her tone, aware how desperate was her situation. He half–expected to find her lying on the bed, resting, but she was standing in front of the statue of the Madonna and Child. He cleared his throat. She turned and their eyes caught and held, and he guessed she was trying not to show how nervous she was of him.

‘I hope you will forgive me for having spoken words that were hurtful to you?’ said Harry quietly.

Bridget did not drop her gaze, but her insides were quivering. ‘I, too, spoke out of turn earlier, Captain Mariner. I really am grateful for all you have done for me and I really do need your help. If I had any money, I would pay you to take me aboard your ship and provide me with passage to Lisbon.’

‘And what would you do when you reached Lisbon?’

‘I would hope that there would be an English ship whose captain would be generous enough to take me to London. I am sure my friends would willingly reimburse him for his trouble.’

Harry frowned. ‘You cannot be as foolish as you sound, Mistress McDonald. I refuse to believe that you have forgotten already your earlier fears about the slave trader still searching for you. I deem what you really want is for me to take you all the way to England.’

She blushed. ‘It would certainly be the perfect answer to my dilemma.’

Harry muttered, ‘Sit down, Mistress McDonald.’

She hesitated and he rasped, ‘I cannot sit down until you do and I’ve been on my feet for hours.’

Hastily she sat on the bed. ‘You are busy supervising the loading of the sugar–cane harvest?’

‘Aye. All is nearly ready and I will be departing soon.’ He paused and was silent for so long that she thought he was going to refuse to take her. Then he took a deep breath. ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’

‘What kind of proposition?’ she asked warily.

He frowned. ‘There is no need for you to look so apprehensive, but you are an attractive woman and could cause havoc on my ship.’

‘Joe told me that you—’

He glared at her. ‘What did he tell you? ‘

She changed what she had been about to say. ‘That you were an orphan just like him, so you chose your own name.’

Harry said drily, ‘I don’t believe that was your first choice of words, but no matter.’ He paused, putting off the moment when he would put his proposition to her. ‘Would you like to know how Joe came to be in my employment?’

‘Aye. I know that he is fond of you and thinks you are the best captain he knows.’ She smiled.

Harry scrubbed at his beard. ‘I found Joe being tormented by a couple of bigger lads down by the waterfront in London, so I took him under my wing because I knew what it was to have no one of your own to fight your corner. He’s been with me ever since. He’s like a son to me now.’

Bridget felt a strange warmth inside her. ‘Surely you’re not old enough to have a son his age?’

Harry gave a twisted smile. ‘A younger brother, then. I do not know my exact age, but I reckon I must have seen twenty–four summers.’ He paused. ‘How old are you, Mistress McDonald?’

‘It will be the eighteenth anniversary of my birth in a few months.’

He nodded. ‘Then it is time you were wed.’

Her mouth tightened. ‘You would tease me, Captain Mariner? What kind of man would marry a dowerless woman?’

‘I will marry you,’ said Harry simply.

Bridget went still and was convinced that she must have misheard him. ‘I beg your pardon, Captain? I didn’t quite catch what you said.’

‘A marriage of convenience, Mistress McDonald,’ he said, meeting her gaze squarely. ‘You are a penniless woman alone in a foreign land and in need of a protector, and I have decided that a wife could be useful to me.’

She was stunned by his suggestion. ‘I cannot believe you would wish to marry me. I have naught to bring you.’

‘You are a beautiful woman and will enhance my life. I have roamed the seas for years and it has seldom bothered me that I have no wife or house to call home when I make landfall. Now I have decided that I will buy a house in some port and you can live there. Will that not suit you? You will not have to constantly tolerate my presence for I will be away on business some of the time. You can make a home for me and Joe. Do you think you can manage to do that? If you feel it is beyond your capacities, then say so now.’

Bridget was still feeling stunned by his proposal, but his reasoning sounded sensible. She had to give it serious thought, because what would happen to her if she turned him down? He might feel he no longer needed to feel responsible for her. He had been kind and tended her when she was ill. No doubt he had saved her life and not once had he taken advantage of her dependency on him. He appeared to be an honourable man. But what did he mean exactly by a marriage of convenience?

She cleared her throat. ‘I thank you for your offer, Captain, but does it not bother you that we scarcely know each other?’

He raised those devilishly dark eyebrows of his and drawled, ‘Most couples who make convenient matches are barely acquainted.’

Bridget knew this to be true. Even the King of England’s daughter, Margaret, had married the King of Scotland by proxy without ever having met him. ‘That is certainly true. You speak of a marriage of convenience—does that mean you intend this to be a match in name only or shall it be a proper marriage?’

He hesitated. ‘Perhaps we can discuss that when we are better acquainted.’

She could see the sense in that because it was possible that they both might have a change of heart in a few months’ time. But even so—She frowned. ‘Wouldn’t a housekeeper do you just as well?’

Harry blinked at her. ‘Am I to presume you would rather be my housekeeper?’

‘No! For what security would that give me?’ she said honestly, reaching out and touching his arm. ‘Yet what if, against all the odds, you were to meet another woman and fall in love with her? You might decide that you’d rather be rid of me.’

‘It is hardly likely, Mistress McDonald,’ he said ruefully. ‘But your point is worth considering, only maybe it will be you who will fall in love with another man. You are lovely. It isn’t as if you are stuck with an ugly visage like mine. Maybe you will come to hate looking at my face.’

She hesitated. ‘I confess I do not have a fondness for black beards. Perhaps if you shaved it off, I would marry you.’

Harry’s hand went to his beard in a defensive gesture. ‘Is that really necessary?’

‘No, it’s just that the slave trader had a black beard and I would rather not be reminded of him,’ she said.

Harry did not want her constantly thinking of the slave trader, either, as that would not bode well for their future. On the other hand, when she saw him without his beard and recognised him, as well as getting a good look at the disfiguring scar currently hidden beneath his beard, she would have more than one reason for refusing his offer. ‘What if I were to promise to shave it off after the wedding?’

She smiled. ‘That is a rare promise. I cannot believe you are as ugly as you say you are. I deem you just hide behind that beard because you wish to keep the women at bay.’

He grimaced. ‘I would like to hear you say that when you see me minus this beard,’ he said, touching his whiskers.

‘I deem you dwell too much on the importance of a person’s appearance. Surely it is what one’s heart is like that is more important.’

‘You can say that because you are lovely,’ said Harry, ‘not that I disagree with you about a person’s nature. I would add that, if you decide to accept my proposal, I will expect your complete loyalty to me once we are married.’

His words surprised her. ‘Why should you doubt my loyalty? You are offering me a home where I will rule when you are not there. I have no dowry, so no other man of worth would take me as I am. A home of my own is something I have never had before. Just like you, my home was a ship for several years. Even when I lived on land before sailing with my father, my home was either in my Irish grandfather’s keep or my uncle’s castle. It is true that there will be much for me to learn about organising a household, but I have seen how it is done and I have certain housewifery skills, such as sewing and cooking.’

‘Then you will agree to be my wife?’ asked Harry, his heart thudding as he waited for her answer.