Captives' Charade (18 page)
Authors: Susannah Merrill
“I don’t mind telling you how I regret the inconvenience of this charade on you, but it is the only way we can guarantee your protection. Now if you will just sign ....” he said hastily, rising to locate an inkwell and quill.
Stunned, Sarah stared blankly at the parchment, seeing nothing but the fierce black signature of Stewart Chamberlain and a blank space where a second name was required. “Th-this isn’t ... legal, is it?” she spoke in a hushed, breathless tone when Jeremiah returned.
“It is absolutely legal. But please, Sarah, do not fret now. As soon as we are rid of these rascals, the document will be destroyed and as far as all are concerned, the union never took place.”
“Simon d’Alava is the name of our hijacker.” He added wryly, “He is a sly fox. He will accept our ruse with better grace if Stewart can show him the license. We are actually helping him save face by providing it. Among his men might be those who wish to challenge whether you and my brother-inlaw are legally betrothed.”
Seeing that she did not understand, Jeremiah added, “I don’t want to alarm you, Lady Sarah, but these pirates can be quite dangerous. D’Alava will see that his men respect the fact that you belong to Stewart; they’ll leave you alone as they did Peggy. But without Stewart’s protection; without his right to be near you at all times ... well, I don’t even want to give words to what could happen.”
Married! Without a proposal, a ceremony, or even a look at the groom, Sarah had entered paper nuptials. Everything had happened so fast, she was only now beginning to realize just how far this incredible charade might have to go.
After Jeremiah left, with the signed document tucked safely in his pocket, Sarah had taken the scissors to Tegan’s beautiful copper hair. Through tears of sorrow and fear, she clipped the burnished locks into a shaggy style while Tegan sat in stoic silence. They placed the cuttings, along with Tegan’s dresses and accessories, into a weighted bundle which Ezra took to heave overboard after he delivered a set of his own clothing to their quarters. “They’re not much, but everything’s clean,” he said, shaking his head sadly at the twist of fate befalling the poor lady’s maid. “I want you to know,” he added fiercely, “that Cap’n Slade’s men, all of us, will make things as easy for you as possible. “Tis a shame and we are all sorry for you, but we’ll make it up to you by keeping you safe.”
Tegan thanked him warmly, as did Sarah, and, after he left, she proceeded to change into the rough shirt, jacket, breeches and boots the boy had provided. Though Tegan was rather smallbreasted, Sarah insisted on binding her chest with linen strips, just to make sure she looked completely boyish. After pulling a moth-eaten knitted cap over her eyebrows, Tegan finished the disguise by dipping her fingertips in soot from the warming stove, getting black under her short nails. “’Ow is that for a ratty urchin stowaway?” she asked with a trace of humor as she turned to her mistress for inspection.
“You still look like my dear Teeg,” Sarah uttered, clutching her in a farewell hug. “I wish so much this hadn’t happened. I’ll be exhausted with worry over you.”
“Now don’t you think on it another minute. I took care of myself most of my life. And I can handle this, too. In a day you’ll forget I was ever a girl!” With a glint of mischief in her hazel eyes, Tegan left to take up her station, in the kitchen with Cook. Jeremiah had assured them before he left that she would be practically unnoticed there, at least while they sailed for the pirates’ island.
NowSarahwasalone,pacingnervously, waiting for what she did not know. She tried desperately to keep her mind off Stewart Chamberlain, but as usual, found that exercise futile. He’d been distant ever since that first night they had dined with the Captain; polite but aloof. She found it quite easy to avoid being alone with him, since he seemed to ignore her unless she was accompanied by Tegan or Captain Slade. Which was just as well. Since that night he had kissed her and then humiliated her, she vowed he’d never touch her again.
But the pirate overtaking had changed all that. She was married to Stewart now, so, as Jeremiah had said, he would have the right to be near her at all times. The idea disturbed her nearly as much as their hijacking.
How would he play his role in this travesty? Would he be considerate of her plight? Or taunt and mortify her? Would she be ignored? Or overwhelmed? Wringing her hands in frustration, she scorned her need for his protection and the burden it placed on her to put up with whatever treatment she received. Why couldn’t she disguise herself as a boy, as Teeg had done?
But she knew that Jeremiah was wise not to suggest it. Even if she could somehow camouflage her womanly curves, her face was much too soft and pretty to hide her sex for more than an instant. Her mannerisms, too, would quickly give her away. When she, her sister and Jack used to makebelieve, the others always insisted she take on the feminine role, for her actions were ever delicate and graceful, not fit for the part of a king or soldier.
“Damn!” she whispered fiercely, falling onto the flowered coverlet that overlaid the wide bunk. Hot tears of fear and helplessness stained the fabric as she beat her fists into the pillow. But her outpouring was short-lived as she heard heavy footsteps outside her door and the key fitting into the lock. Sitting up quickly, she brushed her hem across her nose, pulled it down and pushed a straggling curl back from her wet cheek, her body taut with anxiety.
It was Stewart. Locking the door behind him, he strode to the writing desk, only glancing at her on his way by. His demeanor was purposeful and he neither smiled nor spoke as he searched for something in a hidden drawer she had never noticed before.
Openlyobservinghim,Sarahcouldnothelp admiring how fiercely masculine he looked in his rugged clothes. His pale blue shirt was opened nearly to the waist, exposing his tanned rippling chest. His natural-colored canvas breeches clung damply to his flat belly and sleek, muscular thighs, filling the room with a salty tang. Was this truly the same man whose sophisticated elegance brought a hush to the ton at her sister’s birthday ball? It all seemed so long ago. Her concentration was so intense that she failed to notice the he had stopped searching and was looking at her instead.
“Your appraisal is rather bold for such a timid bride. Have I met with your approval? Or do you wish a closer inspection?” Ignoring her look of utter shock, he continued calmly, “Be patient, my love. We will have time for intimacy later. Right now I have to deliver this manifest to Señor d’Alava, who is most eager to assess his plunder.”
His cool response served only to infuriate her. “Oh, but we are, or did my brother-in-law not make the terms clear to you? You would be wise to accept that fact, and my husbandly attentions, or your safety will be most ... uncertain.” Biting back a response when she saw the cold warning in his eyes, she dropped her view to her tightly clenched fists. “Come now,” he prodded her, walking toward the door, “freshen up a bit. Our captor is eager to meet you.”
After he left, locking the door behind him, Sarah knew a cold, creeping fear in the pit of her stomach. So he was going to carry his performance to the hilt, and force her to comply by reminding her of her desperate need for his protection? Some protection! Walking mechanically to the commode, she splashed tepid water on her feverish face. Removing the pins from her thick hair, she brushed the wayward locks absently until they shone, lost in contemplation of her fate.
As she began recoiling her hair in order to pin it up again, it suddenly occurred to her how impossible it would be for her to dress without Tegan’s assistance. Nearly every one of her gowns was closed by dozen of tiny fastenings up the back. Angry tears of frustration threatened to appear as she once again was reminded of the helplessness her gender had imposed on her. Out of sheer bitterness, she put her hands to the back of her neck and tugged until the light fabric gave way. Buttons began popping off on the carpet as she stretched and strained to free herself. Gasping in foul temper, her bodice finally fell away from her shoulders at the same moment Stewart chose to reenter the compartment.
Horrifiedbyherimmodestdisplay,and infuriated by his sudden appearance, Sarah clutched the gaping material to her corset and chemise, screaming, “Get out! Get...!” But before the next words could be uttered, Stewart had eliminated the space between them, clamping one huge hand over her mouth and the other around her bare shoulders.
In a furious whisper that very nearly singed her ear, he demanded, “Blast it, woman! You’ll have the whole criminal mob breaking down the door if you continue your shrieking! And how do you propose to explain that your devoted husband is the cause?” His fingers bit into her arm, forcing her to pay close attention to his words. “I suggest you very quickly get used to the idea that I am your spouse. It is doubtful that you would be a loving wife, let along know how to play-act as one, but I swear on your father’s title it is your only chance. And if you don’t have a care for your own life, please consider that we are all in danger – a peril far more deadly should anyone discover our charade. One does not make a fool of a pirate. Do you understand?” Brown eyes bored menacingly into frightened blue ones. Satisfied when she nodded, he released her, noticing then the buttons under his boots. “What the devil...?”
He turned her away from him and sighed when he saw the dress rent halfway down her back. His fingers nimbly loosened the remaining buttons. “And well you should. This one is ruined.”
Only too aware of her nakedness and the feel of his knuckles grazing her back, Sarah held her arms firmly across her bosom. “I don’t have Tegan to help me anymore.”
“So your plan is to destroy your wardrobe instead of asking me for assistance? I admire your independence but what did you have in mind when all your dresses are ruined? In the future,” he continued sternly. “I will help you when you need it. There,” he muttered when he had finished. “Change your clothes. And hurry. Simon d’Alava does not like to be kept waiting.”
Sarahglancedathimoverhershoulderand saw that he had already turned to the writing desk on the opposite wall, It was clear that he was not planning to leave the room and after the tirade he had just leveled, she was too afraid to suggest it. With a shudder, she dashed to the wardrobe and hid herself as best she could behind one of the tall doors. Keeping one eye on Stewart’s broad back, she scurried into a gown, the white bodice cut to show off her neck and shoulders, the empire skirt sprinkled with embroidered cornflowers.
Demurely she stepped from behind the door and, eyes downcast, walked silently across the rug to stand behind him. “The buttons?” she pleaded humbly and noticed his scowl as they both turned around.
Stewart completed the task e fficiently and without comment. But before Sarah could breathe a sigh of relief, he put his broad hands on top of her shoulders and touched her ear with his lips. “Please remember this, Sarah,” he warned. “Even though I expect you to follow my lead, you are my wife, not some overly obeisant serving girl. You’ll only arouse suspicions if you fail to show your mettle.”
His words pricked her sharply. He seemed to relish jerking her around in her emotional distress, completely inconsiderate of her plight. Squaring her shoulders, shrugging off his hands in the process, she vowed at that moment to show him, despite this trial heaped upon her, that she would do more than survive. She would triumph.
CHAPTER 19
Walking into the blazing brightness, Sarah, having forgotten her parasol, shielded her eyes momentarily as Stewart led her to the bridge where Simon d’Alava was waiting to meet her. Except for the ominous presence of the pirate ship off starboard, nothing impressed her as being different. Sailors still walked freely about, though there was little to do since the ship was anchored, all sails furled. The seagulls still soared and squawked overhead; the breeze was still warm and rustled the hair that had escaped Sarah’s careful pinning.
Everything was so calm, in fact, that much of her nervousness left her. Was piracy on the high seas always so civilized, she wondered to herself as Stewart handed her up to Jeremiah, who was waiting to introduce her. “Sarah,” he began, intentionally leaving out her title, “This is Señor Simon d’Alava. Señor, may I present my sister-inlaw, Madame Chamberlain.”
“Señor,” she intoned serenely, giving the stranger an even, benign look. The man who took her proffered hand and kissed it was quite different than Sarah had imagined. Of medium height, the Señor was stout, had a rigid bearing and carried his weight well. His face was cruelly handsome, Sarah decided, in an exotically foreign way. Blue-black hair streaked with premature gray, engaging black eyes fringed in the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man, white teeth marred only by the presence of a gleaming gold-capped incisor, and a thin, aristocratic moustache Though she somehow had the feeling he was approximately the same age as Stewart, constant sun had darkened and weathered his skin, giving him the appearance of an older man.
nose above a carefully waxed
His clothes were comical; a collection of different ill-fitting uniforms taken, no doubt, from other unfortunate mariners. Scores of medals were scattered across his chest and, she noticed, he was heavily armed with two pistols and a sword and scabbard hanging from a silver inlaid leather belt that stretched across his girth. All in all, his presence was disturbing in a most inexplicable way.
“MydearSeñoraChamberlain,”heexudedin a thick, though charming Spanish accent, “I am enchanted to meet you and most humbly sorry for this minor inconvenience. Had I known my old compañero Stewart had taken su novia board, I may have decided not to trouble all of you with this unpleasant business. But on the other hand,” he chuckled at his own cleverness, “I have my job to do and, as you can see, so very many mouths to feed.” As he waved his hand toward the other ship, she saw for the first time that the deck was crowded with an assortment of wild and dangerous-looking men. D’Alava’s gesture set off a profusion of cheers, jeers and obscene remarks from these ruffians, most of which were about her. Instinctively, her face paling, she stepped backward and was relieved to feel the comfort of Stewart’s strong arm as he placed his hand on her waist, pulling her close in a husbandly gesture.
