Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) (18 page)

"You claim to be a revolutionary, and I could respect that; but a pirate who would trade on others for their livelihood has my deepest contempt. What did you do with the captain and crew of the English vessel?"

"As it happens, they are in good health and on their way to America. As to my being a pirate, I prefer to be called a privateer, or perhaps a buccaneer," he stated in an amused voice.

"Whatever you call yourself, you are nothing but the lowest form of life. I. . . detest men like you."

"Tell me what you think I am."

"You claim to have an honorable cause only to cover up what you really are."

His deep laughter only served to infuriate Season further. Then, before she could guess his intention, The Raven pulled her into his arms and held her fast.

"Oh, my lady, you do test me sorely."

"Release me this instant," she demanded, pushing against his arms.

"Have you missed me?" he whispered in her ear, refusing to release her.

Season raised her head and stared at his black mask, trying to see his eyes without success. "I would sooner have the lowest creature on earth near me than you. Take your hands off me," came her cold reply.

"Am I to take that as a no?" He laughed.

Season pressed her hand against his chest, and to her surprise, he immediately released her and turned to face the lights of Tripoli. The two of them were silent until Season spoke.

"I recall my father once telling me about the Barbary pirates. He said that Tripoli belonged to the old Ottoman Empire and that the Barbary pirates attacked trading ships, demanding tribute and ransom from all countries. He said they respect no flag. Can that be true?"

"Yes, all that and more. A more loathsome lot you will never meet, my lady."

Season turned to face The Raven. "Somehow I didn't think you would be associated with thieves and cutthroats. Surely you are aware of how ruthless these pirates can be. I have come to know your crew. They do not seem like—"

"Like thieves and cutthroats?" he interrupted.

She nodded. "It isn't too late, Captain. Mend your ways; take me to my father. I know he will reward you handsomely. I will say nothing about being abducted by you. I will merely tell him I asked you to return me to England."

The Raven laughed and touched her face. "I believe the lady is trying to reform me."

"No," she said in a small voice. "I merely want to go home."

He was silent for a moment, and Season could feel his eyes on her face. "Even if it were possible, I could never take you to England, my lady."

"Why? I don't understand. I am merely a woman and have never harmed you, why should you want to continue punishing me?"

His hand went to her face again and he brushed an unruly curl from her cheek. "No, my lady, you are not just a woman," he told her. Season was mesmerized by the tone of his deep voice. Suddenly she wished she could strip the disguise away from his face so she could see the man who held so much power over her. She could tell he was staring at her with such intensity that she felt her knees go weak. She quickly turned away to face the lights in the distance. She needed to think of something to say that would help restore her sanity— anything!

"Do you go ashore tomorrow?" was all she could manage to ask.

"Yes."

"I suppose I will remain aboard ship?"

"No, you will accompany me."

Season turned quickly to face him. "Suppose I should ask someone ashore to help me? What if some kindhearted stranger attempted to rescue me?"

His laughter was deep. "If I were you, I wouldn't look for help among the motley lot you will find in this den of pirates. Believe me, my lady, you are far better off with me."

"What more could happen to me that you have not already done?" she asked in a small voice.

There was a long silence, and then Season heard The Raven's breath coming out in a hiss. "You need not worry, I will not attempt to seduce you again. Briggs has interceded on your behalf and made me see the error of my ways."

Season stiffened, knowing she should feel elated at his admission. Why then did she feel like crying? "Are you saying that you will never try to force me to—"

"Season!" he cried out, using her name for the first time. "I have told you before that I would never have come near you had I known you were untouched. Must you always be reminding me of the deed? When I first took you it was with anger. Later I couldn't seem to stay away from you. It was you who made the first move toward me on the island," he reminded her.

She wanted to deny the truth of his statement, but she knew he was right. Knowing she was treading on dangerous ground, she wanted to blame him for what had happened between them. "No matter what you say or how you try to justify what you did, I will never forgive you."

"I think it is time you went to your cabin, my lady," he said harshly.

"That's right. When you are displeased with me you always send me to my cabin. Can you not stand to hear the truth about yourself?" she dared to say.

"Perhaps you are right."

"I know why you always make me stay in my cabin. You only wear your mask when I am on deck. One day I will see you when you are unmasked, and I will know you immediately. I warn you, I will not hesitate to point you out to General Clinton."

"So you think you would know me if I were unmasked, do you?"

"I…yes."

"My hair, what color is it?"

"You implied it was black the other night. All pirate captain's have black hair."

"You read too many books, my lady. What about Barbarossa?"

"Who?"

"Barbarossa . . . Red Beard. He was a pirate who lived in the fifteen hundreds."

"I would imagine your eyes are black to match your heart," she said, tossing her golden mane.

"What about a beard?" he asked, amused by her assessment.

"I... no. You are clean-shaven."

"Of course, how careless of me. Who would know better than you that I am beardless."

Season's face flamed and she lowered her eyes. "I believe you are right... I will go to my cabin."

As she fled down the companionway, Season heard footsteps behind her and knew The Raven was following her. As she neared the cabin, her heart was pounding in her ears. What if he didn't keep his word? Suppose he was displeased with her and wanted to take his anger out on her again?

Her hands were trembling as she entered the cabin. Without turning around, she knew he was standing behind her. She waited tensely for him to speak.

"Good night, my lady," he said, just before he closed the door. Season heard the key grate in the lock, and she knew he had locked her in once more.

She lay down on the bed, fully clothed, and closed her eyes. Why did she feel such an intense loneliness. Why did she regret that The Raven had kept his word and not touched her?

She thought of all the reasons she should hate him, but they amounted to nothing beside her deep feelings for him. How he would laugh at her if he knew she was beginning to love him. She had always believed a woman must respect a man before he could win her heart. That wasn't the case with The Raven. She didn't respect him, but oh, she was beginning to love him.

The Raven entered Briggs' cabin, removed his leather helm, and tossed it on the bed. Lady Season Chatsworth tested his patience to the limit. She fought him at every turn, but at a moment's notice could become soft and loving in his arms. Never had he been so confused where a woman was concerned. Never had he been so in danger of losing his heart.

14

When Briggs brought Season's breakfast tray to her, he didn't leave as he usually did, but sat on the chair, watching her silently. Season could sense that he had something on his mind, and she knew he would get around to telling her before long. She had grown very fond of this kindhearted man who always seemed so concerned with her comfort.

She bit into a fresh orange slice and watched the first mate out of the corner of her eye. Gracefully wiping her mouth on the edge of a napkin, she looked him in the face. Briggs was leaning forward, and he looked as if he were about to speak but was having trouble voicing his thoughts.

"You wanted to say something to me, Briggs?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"I have a message for you, my lady."

"From the captain?"

"Yes, ma'am. He wanted me to tell you to dress in an understated manner."

Season suppressed a smile. "Briggs, do you mean he wants me to wear very little clothing?" she asked in mock horror. She couldn't resist teasing the first mate because he was being so serious.

The first mate's face flushed red. "No, no, my lady!" he sputtered. "I believe what the captain meant was that you were to dress in ... He did mention your green gown."

Season smiled. She knew it was wicked to tease Briggs when he had always been so considerate to her. "I suppose he wants me to look like a pirate's lady. Did he mention whether he wanted me to wear a patch on one eye and strap a cutlass about my waist?"

Briggs laughed aloud. "No. I think he merely wanted you to dress so as not to draw too much attention to yourself—not that everyone wouldn't notice you anyway . . . you being so . . . pretty and all," he stammered.

"Why, Briggs, I believe you just gave me a compliment," she said, her eyes shining mischievously.

He stood up, avoiding her eyes. "If you're done with your tray, my lady, I'll just take it back to the galley."

Season watched the little man pick up the tray and leave the cabin. She then bounded out of bed. Dress in an understated way, indeed. She would show the captain that he couldn't dictate to her what she should wear. She would dress in a manner befitting her station so everyone would know she was a person of some importance. Maybe, just maybe, she would find someone who would be willing to help her escape The Raven!

She only had three gowns with her and two of them had been worn many times. When they had become soiled Briggs had taken them away and brought them back freshly laundered. One gown she had never worn because it was a ball gown and much too grand to wear on board.

Going down on her knees, Season lifted the lid of the trunk in which her belongings had been placed. Rummaging amongst petticoats and undergarments, she found the blue taffeta creation that should be worn only on special occasions.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the gown over her head, finding that of necessity she was becoming very adept at dressing herself. Taking up her hairbrush, she brushed her golden tresses until they crackled. With a spark of mischief in her green eyes, Season picked up the only piece of jewelry she had with her. She smiled to herself as she fastened the emerald and diamond necklace about her neck. Season had no mirror to see her reflection, so she hoped she looked her best. When she finished making her toilet, there was nothing for her to do but sit on the bed and wait for someone to come for her.

Her heart was pounding furiously. Was her rescue near at hand? Would she find someone to help her escape The Raven, someone who would be willing to take her back to England? She was aware that her worst problem would be evading The Raven's watchful eye. She didn't fully understand why he had agreed to take her ashore with him, but she knew she would have to act complacent so as not to arouse his suspicions. Her mind refused to dwell on what The Raven might do should he find out what she had in mind.

Season jumped guiltily when she hard the rap on the door. "If you are ready, my lady, the captain says it's time to disembark." Briggs called out to her.

Season quickly pushed her feet into her satin slippers and rushed to the door. She saw the look of disapproval on Briggs's face when he glanced at her attire. She raised her chin and sailed past him, ready to do battle with him or the captain should either of them make a comment on how she was dressed.

Season gathered up the skirt of her gown and made her way up the companionway. As she crossed the deck, she realized it might have been foolish to defy the captain's orders. Suppose he became angry with her and refused to allow her to accompany him ashore? She hadn't the slightest notion why he had decided to take her in the first place.

It was a hot sultry day, and the morning sun seemed to burn right through Season's skin. The deck of the Andromeda seemed to pitch drunkenly in spite of the fact that she was riding at anchor. Briggs took Season's hand to steady her and led her to the ship's railing.

Season drew in her breath as she glanced up at the mast and saw that the flag of the United States had been replaced by the skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger! She knew that the Jolly Roger owed allegiance to no nation; it was the flag flown by all pirates!

Season felt fear prickle the back of her neck. The Raven had at last shown his true colors. He was indeed the pirate she had often accused him of being.

As Briggs helped Season down the rope ladder, she glanced at the longboat below and saw The Raven looking up at her. Even though his face was hooded, could feel him staring at her through the slits in his helm and she sensed his displeasure. Wearing his black leather helm and his dark cape that flapped in the wind, The Raven appeared to be the devil himself.

"After the lady has debarked, the rest of you can climb down," he called up in his raspy voice.

Season's hands were shaking as Briggs helped her over the side of the rail. The ship was pitching so badly, she gripped the rope ladder tightly and envisioned herself falling into the sea.

"You will not fall, my lady. If you should, I will catch you," The Raven said.

At that moment Season became aware of her vulnerable position. The skirt of her gown was whipping in the wind and giving the captain a fair view of white petticoats. That thought alone spurred her into action. She hurriedly descended the ladder which swayed beneath her. In no time at all, she felt a strong grip about her waist, and The Raven placed her in the longboat. He then ordered the others to descend.

By the time they were ready to row for shore, Season counted fifteen crewmembers in the longboat. She suspected that the remainder of the crew had stayed on board to guard the
Andromeda
.

She looked over at The Raven, but he had his back to her. So far he had made no mention of her gown, but she knew him well enough to guess he wouldn't just allow the matter to drop. Before the day was out, she was sure she would hear about his displeasure.

The heat was oppressive, and Season could feel tiny beads of perspiration running between her breasts. She dabbed at her face with a handkerchief and looked at the ocean longingly. How good it would feel to submerge herself in the cool water. If she was suffering from the heat, she reasoned, the captain must be feeling its effects even more than she since he was draped in black, but he stood at the head of the longboat with his muscular legs spread in an arrogant stance, looking as if he owned the world.

As the longboat neared the shore, Season had a better view of Tripoli. Most of the buildings were either white or soft pink and they were topped by spirals and steeples. As they pulled alongside the wharf, she counted ten other ships riding at anchor. Each flew the Jolly Roger.

The crew of the
Andromeda
was silent as they tied the longboat to the pier and disembarked. Briggs helped Season ashore, and she leaned heavily on him, thinking her legs wouldn't support her weight.

"'Twill take no time at all for you to get your land legs, my lady," he said cheerfully. "It will be no worse than when you came ashore at the island."

The Raven whirled around and faced his first mate. "Dammit, Briggs, while we are in Tripoli, don't ever refer to her as her ladyship! All of you listen to me and heed my words. Lady Season will be known only as Miss Chatsworth, is that understood?" Everyone nodded in agreement.

The Raven reached for Season's arm and pulled her to his side. With long strides he walked across the rotted planks of the pier; Season had to run to keep up with him. Once she stumbled and almost fell, but he braced her with a firm hand about her waist. Even then he didn't slow his stride.  He seemed to have no sympathy for Season's predicament, but merely stared straight ahead.

"You will be well advised, my lady, to stay close to my side. There isn't a man in Tripoli who wouldn't slit your pretty throat for those fancy baubles you wear about your neck."

Season shivered at his warning. She was beginning to regret her foolish actions. She saw many strange-looking men giving her a close inspection. Trying to ignore their bold glances, she gazed, wide-eyed, at her surroundings.

By now they had left the pier behind and were entering what she thought must be the heart of the city. The streets were narrow and dusty, and the people they passed looked like none Season had ever seen before. Many of the men wore long flowing robes and turbans. The women also wore robes, and many of them had their faces veiled. Season shivered from fear and tightly clutched The Raven's hand as several of the men seemed to look right through her with their dark, piercing eyes.

There were foul smells coming from the open doorways they passed. The unpleasant odors were reminiscent of rotten food and other things that Season didn't wish to put a name to. Tattered, half-naked children were playing in the streets among the filth and garbage.

Season placed her handkerchief over her nose. The smells were making her nauseous.

As they passed an open door, a lady appeared with a chamber pot in her hand, and Season was abruptly swung aside by The Raven, just as the woman emptied the contents of the pot right in front of them.

Season shivered in disgust, but The Raven only laughed heartily. She gave him a heated glance and raised her gown to step over the woman's slop.

As they rounded a corner, the scenery changed abruptly. There were no children on this street, but several brightly dressed women with painted faces strolling about. One of the women stopped before The Raven to eye him openly and boldly.

"Well, Captain, I surely know who you are," she said, smiling coquettishly. "Everyone has heard that the Andromeda has just docked, and you are The Raven, ain't you love?" The woman sidled up to The Raven.

"That's correct, madam," The Raven answered in the irritated tone that Season had heard only too often.

The woman gave Season a quick look, and then her eyes turned back to The Raven. "I know of many who would like to see what you look like behind that mask—myself, I'd like to know all of you," she said, reaching out toward his mask.

The Raven caught the woman's hand in a viselike grip. "Would it be worth your eyesight to gaze upon my face, madam?" he asked in a hard voice. "That's what it would cost you to look upon my face."

Season watched as the woman visibly trembled, and her eyes widened with fear. "I meant no harm, sir. I wanted only to speak to you," the woman said, backing away.

The Raven shoved her none too gently out of his path, and Season watched the frightened creature gather up her skirt and dash into one of the open doorways.

Season had watched the whole exchange with surprise. Never in her life had she seen a woman wearing paint on her cheeks. By the woman's accent Season knew her to be from England's lower classes, and she wondered what the woman was doing in Tripoli.

"How can that woman be so brazen? What is she doing so far from home?" Season asked.

"You might better have asked what you are doing so far from home," The Raven said, taking her arm and leading her forward.

Season had no time to react because the captain pulled her into a huge tavern like room. So many bodies were pressed into such a limited space that she thought she surely would be crushed. Many men were sitting at tables, drinking rum and laughing with women much like the ones Season had seen outside. The smell of unwashed bodies was almost overpowering, and Season gasped for a breath of fresh air.

Season quickly lowered her head when she noticed a man at one of the tables fondling the bare breasts of a redheaded woman who was giggling with delight.

"Why have you brought me to such a place!" she cried loudly, in order to be heard above the din. "This place is disgusting and degrading!"

She got no answer. Instead the captain led her to a table in the corner where three men were seated. Season watched as The Raven propped his booted foot up on an empty chair. He then tossed a leather pouch on the table, where it landed with a loud clink.

"De Fores, you are just the man I wanted to see," The Raven said in his raspy voice.

As Season watched, two of the men scrambled to their feet, knocking over chairs to get out of the way.

The third man at the table remained seated and smiled lazily up at The Raven. "Sit down, Raven," he invited, nodding to a chair. "I suspected you would show up sooner or later," he said in heavily accented French.