Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (52 page)

Would Ian be angry with her? she wondered, and decided that he would be, but when she’d kiss him, her lips promising future delights, he’d be more than pleased she’d stowed away.

Nearing the ship, Bethlyn saw in the torchlight and lantern light that all was deserted on deck. No one was about when she made her way onto the ship and down the darkened corridors to Ian’s cabin, but she could hear male voices and laughter coming from the galley.

As she entered the room in which she’d spent so many wondrous and love-filled nights in the arms of Captain Hawk, her mouth twitched with delight, and her gaze immediately centered on the unrumpled bunk.

Hearing a noise down the corridor, she quickly scooted into the small room where she’d stayed when she nursed Ian back to health after stabbing him and settled herself on the small cot. She knew she wouldn’t sleep in here tonight.

~ ~ ~

Ian was indeed angry. He’d just entered his cabin to have Bethlyn pop out of her hiding place, scaring the wits out of him. “What in the name of God are you doing here?” he cried, and his tone of voice sounded less than warm, but Bethlyn ignored it.

She smiled, unwittingly beguiling him with her beauty and the sweetness of her kiss when she rose on tiptoe to reach his lips. “I couldn’t stand to be parted from you an hour longer, Ian. I hate upsetting you, but aren’t you just the teeniest bit pleased to see me and know that tonight you won’t have to sleep alone in your cold bed?”

He wanted to be angry, she could tell. But a grin stretched across his handsome face, and in a moment she found herself ensnared in his arms and then in his bed.

~ ~ ~

 “Our agreement is that when an enemy ship is spotted, you’re to come into the cabin and stay in here, even if fighting starts.” Ian gulped down his morning coffee and buttered a biscuit before devouring it. “You do understand, Bethlyn.”

Bethlyn lazily stirred her tea, too contented and still flushed from last night’s lovemaking to concentrate on anything but Ian’s face and hard, bronzed chest. She was fascinated at the way his muscles rippled with each movement, growing aroused again. “Hmm, what did you say?” she asked, her eyes a smoky brown.

“You’re to stay in the cabin if fighting breaks out.”

“Ah, yes, I will.”

Ian rose from his chair and stood beside her and cupped her chin. “Chase that wanton look from your eyes, wench. I have a great deal of work to do today and can’t make the time for another toss in the bed with you.”

“Why, such a thought never crossed my mind.” Pretending to be offended, she made a mock pout.

“Insatiable hussy. You’re going to be the death of me yet, but never let it be said that Captain Hawk ever turned down a willing woman, even if she is his wife.”

To Bethlyn’s surprise, Ian lifted her from the chair and falling to the bunk with her amid husky and seductive laughter, he somehow managed to find the time.

~ ~ ~

Almost four weeks later, the
Black Falcon
had captured three British frigates. Two of the battles had been unsettling for Bethlyn, who waited them out in the cabin, but they amounted to brief skirmishes. The ships’ goods were confiscated and the British crew set adrift in longboats.

However, three days after the last attack, Bethlyn was still shaken and offered a prayer of thanks that two of Ian’ s men were only wounded in the foray. The British crew wasn’t as lucky and didn’t survive. It was only now that Bethlyn began to realize how awesome was the
Black Falcon
’s sea power, and that Captain Hawk gave no quarter to his enemies.

Ian, sensing her disturbance over the last sea battle, had decided to return to Windhaven. He’d just given the command to head for the island when Sparrow spotted a ship in the distance.

“Damn,” he muttered softly, feeling rather unsettled himself and not eager to engage the enemy so soon after the last confrontation. Raising his spy glass, he located the approaching ship. “She isn’t a warship,” he shouted up to Sparrow in the crew’s nest. “Still, she is British, and if she comes closer, we must take her.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Sparrow called and slithered down the pole as Ian ordered his men to prepare for a possible battle.

The noise of running feet and the sound of artillery being loaded alerted Bethlyn to imminent danger. She groaned and looked out of the window in Ian’s cabin, hating the thought of another fight. Ian had told her they’d be returning to Windhaven, and she wanted more than anything to be there now.

Spotting the ship, she watched as the dark speck on the horizon grew increasingly larger, and, with it, her fear. The ship fired a cannon boom at the
Black Falcon
, she supposed in the hope of running them away, but the answering boom which echoed from the bowels of the ship beneath her feet, clearly expressed another sentiment.

Bethlyn braced herself for the inevitable, waiting for the other ship to fire again. It didn’t. As the ship drew ever closer, she was finally able to make out the flags on the masthead. She was a British passenger ship for certain, but also something else.

“My God!” she whispered, and wondered if Ian realized that this ship was the Jessica, named after the woman who’d stolen her father’s heart and the woman who was Ian’s mother. Only her father, the earl, ever traveled on this ship. What if her father was on the ship now, at this moment? Suppose he were coming to America to see her, to atone for the wrongs he’d committed against her? Bethlyn didn’t dare hope, but hope surged through her nonetheless and she rushed from the cabin onto the upper deck — and discovered all of the men had pulled on their masks, and Ian in the guise of Captain Hawk appeared more formidable than any of them.

She pulled at his shirt-sleeve, and Ian didn’t hide his aggravation at finding her above deck. “That’s my father’s ship, the
Jessica
,” she exclaimed with bright eyes, filled with anticipation. “You mustn’t destroy her. He could be killed and I couldn’t bear wondering for the rest of my life what he might have said to me.”

“I have no intention of attacking the ship, Bethlyn, In fact, they’ve raised the white flag. If your father is aboard, then you should hide in the cabin until I hear him out. He can’t see you; otherwise, my privateering days will end with me dangling from a rope.” Ian sounded patient, and she couldn’t argue with him. She turned and left the deck to find a place by the doorway and waited until the
Jessica
drew up to the
Black Falcon
.

The grappling hooks connected the two ships, and Ian and his men nimbly jumped the distance, easily capturing the booty and crew of the
Jessica
.

An hour later Bethlyn was still waiting. What was happening? Had Ian found her father? What would he say to her when they met again after all of these years? Father, I love you. Daughter, I love you. She shook her head. No, her father would never admit his feelings in such a straightforward manner. Still, he must have some feelings to have come all of this way.

Her palms perspired, and she wiped them on the pants she’d borrowed from Amos, perfectly aware that Ian didn’t care for her male attire, but she felt more at ease wearing the pants and the white ruffled shirt than a dress on board ship with an all-male crew. The time seemed to drag, and when she didn’t think she could stand another moment of waiting, she saw Ian grab a rope from the
Jessica
’s masthead and swing across to land steadily on his feet like a jungle cat.

Even behind his mask, she sensed an eager anticipation in his steadfast gaze, which never wandered from the man who now boarded the
Black Falcon
by way of the plank.

Bethlyn’s heart sank when she recognized the man as Thomas Eversley. Where was her father?

Apparently the earl wasn’t on board, for minutes came and went, and Eversley perched on a water barrel like a frightened bird whose nest has been disturbed. Droplets of sweat rolled down his face and into his fine lace cravat. But then again, not many men could sit, unmoving and unafraid, beneath the ominous countenance of Captain Hawk.

Bethlyn should have felt sorry for Thomas Eversley, but she didn’t. He’d been responsible for transporting women to the Colonies, and she thought he was a disgusting man and wanted to face him and berate him for what he’d done, but he’d recognize her. Then the idea hit her and she ran back to the cabin.

Ian surveyed Thomas as if he were a bug about to be squashed by a boot heel, and as he paced, circling the frightened man, he didn’t hide his contempt “Delivering any women this time, Eversley?” Ian asked in his raspy tone of voice.

“No, no, Captain Hawk. How do you know my name?”

“I know the names of all the snakes who inhabit the king’s garden. And you are the most loathsome one of all.”

“I … I’m sorry you feel that way, Captain Hawk.” Thomas’s face was horribly pale, and his skin looked pasty and damp.

Ian bent down, and Thomas quivered for a second at the black-masked bird and the hate-filled eyes behind it. “Are you going to puke, Eversley? Are you afraid that I will end your wretched life here and now?”

Lifting his sword, Ian ripped away the buttons on the front of Thomas’s jacket. Thomas flinched, seemingly expecting the blade to tear through his shirt and lance his chest. The terror etched on his face was clear for all to see, and the crew of the
Jessica
did when Sparrow and Ian’s men led them to the railing.

“Please, please…” Thomas could barely mouth the words.

“Yes, Eversley?”

The blade’s tip rested on his pounding heart, a cold sweat broke out on Eversley’s forehead, all too aware of the condemning eyes upon him. He’d been the one who’d ordered the white flag to be raised.

“I beg for … my life, sir.”

“And should I spare you?”

Opening his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by the sensually soft, husky-sounding voice which came from the doorway. “Do spare the man’s life, Hawk. He isn’t worth killing.”

All eyes turned to see the dark-haired woman with the dovelike mask on her face. Surprise rocketed through Ian, but no one but Bethlyn noticed. Thomas sat with his tongue hanging out and cast her a pleading look to save him.

Moving forward, Bethlyn was all too aware of the stares from the crew of the
Jessica
. Ian’s men were used to her parading around the ship in pants and shirt. But these men were startled, yet quite unlikely to remove their gazes from the rounded curves of her buttocks. She hadn’t known why she’d packed the clothes, the wig, and the mask, before leaving Edgecomb, transporting them to Windhaven and then the ship. Now, however, she was glad she’d hastily thrown them in her carpetbag. All the more fun to taunt Thomas Eversley.

She somehow knew that if Ian’s sword hadn’t imprisoned Thomas, the man would have thrown himself at her feet, begging for mercy.

“You best stay out of this, Dove,” Ian warned in a silky voice. “I have plans for our guest.”

I know you do, her eyes seemed to say. And she wanted to avoid Ian’s vengeance. She guessed his hatred of Eversley ran deep, probably stemming from incidents related to her father. She wondered if Ian really intended to kill Thomas or just frighten him. She didn’t want to find out. Thomas might be a despicable man, a man who loved profit, but most certainly he didn’t deserve to die for being greedy.

“I have plans, too,” Bethlyn countered and smiled at Thomas, “and they don’t include his death.”

“Thank you, dear lady,” Thomas offered, almost like a prayer.

A low, sultry laugh parted Bethlyn’s lips. “Don’t thank me too soon, sir.” She turned to Ian and whispered something in his ear. Immediately this caused a wicked grin to appear.

He called to Sparrow and some of his crew to lower the longboats from the
Jessica
and to soon begin loading them with the captured sailors. “But first, we shall have some entertainment,” he cried and nodded to Bethlyn.

“Your life is saved, Mr. Eversley,” she said, “but not without a price.”

Eversley’s delighted expression disappeared, and he narrowed his eyes. “What is it you want?”

Bethlyn touched the fine lacework on his cravat, then ran her eyes down the front of the well-made gray satin jacket over the black trousers to the tips of his soft leather boots. “I want your clothes.”

“My clothes?” he mouthed.

“Yes, every last piece you’ve got on.” She flashed an impish smile at him. “Captain Hawk has need of such finery and will look much more handsome than you, sir. So, strip.”

“Now? Here?”

“Yes.”

“But, but—”

“Do it!”

Thomas jumped, and he quickly began to remove his jacket, and then his shirt. Whistles and howls from the
Jessica
caused his face to redden, and Bethlyn wondered if he was embarrassed or angry. That was the only indication Thomas gave that he felt thoroughly humiliated to undress in front of both crews, Captain Hawk, and a strange woman.

When he was down to his drawers, he nearly balked, but a curt nod from Bethlyn hurried him along and he was naked.

Ian folded his arms across his chest and perused Thomas. “Not a pretty sight by far,” was his comment.