Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (16 page)

Bethlyn hugged Mavis and assured her that she did understand, but she didn’t. She felt betrayed by Mavis, the one person besides Jeremy she thought she could count upon. It seemed that she was now truly alone. Before Mavis left her, Mavis said, “I haven’t told Crane about who you are. As much as I love him and believe him to be a good man, I’m not certain he’d keep this information about your identity from Hawk.”

“I’m grateful to you for that. How is Captain Hawk’s recovery progressing?”

Mavis hesitated. “He’s better, but…”

Bethlyn cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“He plans to send for you soon.”

Cold fear clutched at Bethlyn’s heart, but she managed a brave facade. “Good, I hope he does. I have a great deal to say to the hateful man.”

“Be wary of him, Bethlyn. Hawk isn’t a puppet like Jeremy, or uncaring like your husband. You injured him, and I doubt he’ll soon forget that.”

“I hope he’s scarred for life and every time he sees it, he’ll think of me.”

Mavis sighed. “Believe me, Bethlyn, Captain Hawk will never forget you.”

Bethlyn feared as much.

~ ~ ~

The summons came three days later.

After having spent a total of five days in confinement and without benefit of bathing, Bethlyn gladly followed Crane when he ushered her from the small room. A sense of fear filled her with each step she took, and when Crane pushed her into Hawk’s cabin, her legs shook and nearly gave way. She’d had adequate time to think about what she’d done and to be sorry for hurting the man, but she wouldn’t cower before Hawk like a frightened sheep and refused to apologize to him, no matter what punishment he decided to mete out to her. She’d had enough bullying from her father to last a lifetime, but not once had her father physically harmed her. She doubted she’d be able to say the same for Hawk.

No matter what she’d done, she didn’t deserve to be punished any further, and she’d already decided that she wouldn’t allow the hateful privateer to sense her fear of him and worry as to what he’d do to gain his revenge upon her. However, no matter what he decided to do to her, she resolved to make it as difficult as possible for him to get any satisfaction from her punishment. She’d scream and kick and bite if necessary, but she’d be damned if she’d allow him to harm her without putting up a fight.

Hawk’s raspy-sounding voice broke into her thoughts when she heard him say, “Come in, Beth.”

No sooner was she inside than the door closed behind her, but she guessed that Crane was on the other side, ready to defend his captain if she took it into her head to do away with the man again.

Twilight started to descend, and without the lantern-light the cabin retained an eerie glow. At first she didn’t see Hawk, but she felt his gaze upon her and, glancing towards the bunk, she made out his silhouette as he rested against a number of pillows.

“I won’t bite,” he assured her.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she snapped back, instantly on the defensive.

“Good. I like a woman with spirit, even if she’s fool enough not to be afraid. Or are you so foolish as not to be afraid of me, Beth?”

Her mouth suddenly dried up. Was there a hint of menace in his voice, or did she imagine it? Perhaps he wanted her to be afraid, and, God, she truly was, for at that moment she realized that he still wore the hawk mask over his face. If he wished to intimidate her, he was doing a good job of it. Even in his invalid state, the man caused her limbs to quiver. She might stiffen her spine and pretend not to fear him, but when she spoke her stammer betrayed her.

“I don’t know … what you — you — mean.”

“Of course you do. Your voice is filled with fear, though I do admire you for not wanting to admit it. Please, could you light the lantern for me? I wish to see you.”

“I shall not be made an insect for your perusal, sir,” she said, and lighted the lantern which hung on the wall.

Soft candlelight filtered through the room, and when Bethlyn turned, she couldn’t help but wince at Hawk. In the semi-darkness, she’d been afraid of him. In the light she noticed how pale he appeared against the darkness of the mask on his face. His shoulders were still broad, his arms powerful looking, but the white linen wrapped around his chest was proof of his vulnerability. The great Captain Hawk, the man who inspired fear in the British and other privateers alike, was still only a man. His men knew this now with no uncertainty. Bethlyn sensed Hawk was a proud man, and heaven knew how much he must hate her for what she’d done to him. She’d managed to reduce him to an invalid.

She made a move towards him, no longer afraid.

“Are you in much pain?” she asked, biting at her lower lip.

“Do you care?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “You deserve my hatred of you. If you recall, you attempted to force yourself on me.”

“Perhaps you’re right, but I do seem to remember that for a moment or two you didn’t mind.”

The hateful wretch was throwing up her weakness in her face. How dare he allude to a moment of folly at a time like this! She wasn’t the one who’d kissed him until her head spun, until she couldn’t think clearly. “You’re a horrible man! I hate you!” she ranted.

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Then toss me overboard and be done with it! I can’t abide one moment longer in that little hole I’ve been put into. Any punishment is better than being forced to endure such an existence.”

It seemed that for the first time he truly noticed her. His eyes behind the mask scanned her thoroughly until she couldn’t help but blush. She knew she must look a sight with her hair all atumble, not having brushed it in days, and the dried blood on her gown. Admittedly, she’d nearly killed him, but any punishment would be better than being confined.

“You’re quite a stalwart soul, Beth. What makes you think I intend to punish you?”

She nearly laughed. “Well, of course you shall. You’re a pirate, a rebel who lives by thievery. You have no heart, none at all. But mind you, Captain Hawk, I won’t take to torture easily. I’ll fight to the death if need be. You won’t find me a docile puppy under the whip.”

“Oh, God, this is too rich!” Hawk did laugh, a sound which was filled with amusement and possessed of a delightful timbre. She found herself hating him all the more for laughing at her.

“What is the matter with you?” she cried, thinking he might be a bit demented.

He pointed a tanned finger at her. “You’re a delight! What sordid pieces of literature have you been reading? At least I assume you can read to make such an idiotic and totally false assumption.”

 “I’ve read a great deal about pirates and privateers. The whole bunch of you are a scurvy lot.”

Hawk bowed his head. “My thanks, madam. I should rather be considered a scurvy knave than a slave to a foreign power.”

He’d grown serious, and Bethlyn decided that he had no intention of punishing her, but the next words out of his mouth dispelled that notion.

“I believe your punishment must fit the crime.”

Her eyes grew large and the pupils shone like two amber-colored lights. Once more she felt fear and pushed it down. “I shall fight,” she whispered.

“I leave that choice entirely up to you, my dear. Crane!” he called, and instantly the cabin door opened to reveal Hawk’s first mate. Crane turned icy eyes upon Bethlyn. “You know what to do,” Hawk told him.

“Aye, sir.”

Crane hurriedly left, leaving Bethlyn standing in the center of the room, her limbs quaking and a burning lump in her throat. From the bunk, Hawk glanced casually at her, infuriating her and frightening her all the more.

Bethlyn jumped when the door was thrown open again and Crane and Sparrow entered the room, carrying a tub of water between them. Placing it by her feet, they then left, leaving Bethlyn totally baffled.

“Am I to drown myself in two feet of water?” she asked Hawk.

“The thought is appealing, but no, sweet. I told you that your punishment must fit the crime, and that is your punishment, or let’s say the beginning of your atonement.” He gestured towards the water. “I am in sore need of a bath, and since you’re the reason I can’t bathe myself, weak as a kitten that I am, then you shall do the honors for me.”

“No.”

“I fear my hearing must have dimmed. What was that you said?”

“I said no. I won’t bathe you.” Her face was entirely consumed in scarlet. She’d never seen a man naked before. The thought frightened her, yet excited her since the man was Hawk, and this was more frightening to her than his nudity.

“Ah, I had forgotten,” he mused and placed a finger on his fun, sensual lips. “You said you’d fight.”

To her surprise, he got off of the bunk, a bit unsteady at first, but in a second, his hand grabbed her wrist, belying any lack of strength on his part. “Fight me then, wench. But I believe you’ll lose.”

“I hate you!” she spat, already sensing her defeat.

 “Don’t become repetitive, Beth. I know how much you hate me, and I could say the same to you, but I won’t. Believe it or not, I fancy myself a gentleman at times. I need and want a bath and I aim to have one, and you’re the one who is going to wash me and tend to my wound. Also, unless you want to go back to that little prison you were in the last few days, you’ll do as I say, everything I say.”

“I won’t be your whore,” she nearly choked on the word. His breath fanned her cheek, and his lips were dangerously close to hers. For an insane moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and for an insaner one she felt her traitorous body responding to his, but he sneered at her, dispelling the notion.

“I don’t want you for my whore, as you call it. I don’t need you. There are twenty willing women on this ship, one of which you aren’t. However, you can’t get away with nearly murdering me and think you’ll not pay the piper, love. I promise I won’t touch you. All I ask is restitution for what you’ve done by caring for me as a human being. I can’t rely on my men. All hands are needed on deck. You will help me, Beth, until I am well enough to take command. There is nothing worse than a man who can’t captain his own ship. The men will sense weakness, and I won’t allow that. You don’t want to be responsible for a mutiny.”

“Suppose I don’t care if your men mutiny.”

His hand stroked her cheek, and his voice contained a sadness and a warning. “I should hate your lovely body to fall into less gentle hands than mine.”

An urge to scream gripped her. She felt she was living a nightmare, and all because she’d taken the wrong ship. Thomas Eversley was to blame for her misfortune, and she vowed that when she met that man again, if she met him again, for the chance of surviving appeared dim, she’d tie his blasted hide to the back of a horse and drag him through the streets of London like a sack of meal.

“It appears I have no other choice in the matter,” she said at last.

Hawk managed a smile. “I’m pleased you’re a reasonable woman.”

He let her wrist go and waited expectantly in front of her. “You may proceed.”

“With what?”

“Undoing my breeches, of course. I can’t bathe with them on.”

Her face paled, then turned so hot she felt as if she were on fire. She was about to protest anew, but Hawk cocked his head a bit, warning her. Steeling herself with a shuddering breath, she reached for the cord at his waist, fumbling with the knot.

“What sort of a doxy are you?” he asked and grinned. “How could you have gotten so far in your trade and be so clumsy when it comes to undressing a man?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” she ground out, too aware of her face near his chest, of her fingers brushing against the pelt of hair by his navel when the cord finally broke free. “I’m acting as your nurse until you’re well, that’s all.”

“I’ve never had a nurse as pretty as you. What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

“Your breeches are ready to be taken off now.”

“Then take them off.”

“Me? I … can’t … I’ve never….”

“Do it.”

His voice was whispery soft but left no doubt in Bethlyn’s mind that he intended for her to obey him. With trembling hands, she grabbed the top portion of his breeches and began to pull them down. This time her flesh encountered more than the soft hairs by his navel. The pants fit tight on his legs, and there was no way she could avoid touching his hard, lean thighs though she closed her eyes, willing herself not to open them and see that portion of him which in all sensibilities she knew she shouldn’t want to see, but couldn’t resist.

“Beth, look,” she heard him say and like a moth enraptured by a flame, she opened her eyes. “I’ve stepped out of the breeches. You can move now so that I can step into the tub.”

“Oh, yes!” she cried, and scampered away. She turned her back to him and placed her hands on her face to cool herself, but her hands practically scorched her cheeks. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, as if in a daze. Never in her life had she seen a naked man, and her reaction to this one puzzled and unnerved her. Had her time with the doxies caused her to think like one, to act like one? But she wasn’t one of those women, she told herself, and she refused to be made into one of them because of Captain Hawk.

When she heard him say she could start washing him, she very nearly refused, but thought better of it. Somehow she felt that Hawk wanted to humiliate her by serving him, and she was determined to turn the tables on him. He’d told her he wouldn’t touch her, and now she decided to put him to the test.