The Pirate's Desire (16 page)

Amelia watched him zigzag closer. “I believe you are right. The Baron is his own man.”

Was that a sparkle of admiration in her friend’s eyes? Lucinda felt an uncomfortable twinge of alarm. “You don’t find him…interesting, do you?”

Amelia smiled slowly. “I will leave that fascinating man to you.”

Lucinda felt disconcerted. “That is not what I meant at all!”

“Isn’t it?” With a knowing smile, Amelia glided across the floor. “It’s time to collect my last dance from young Timothy.”

Where was Riel now? Lucinda glanced back and forth, still flirting with the idea of making her escape, when she felt a hand on her elbow.

“You are not planning to stand me up, are you, Lucy?” The deep voice stirred her nerve endings.

“I thought I might take a breath of air.”

“It is snowing.”

“It is?” Lucinda shivered, despite herself.

The band struck up the strains of a beautiful waltz.

“Lady Lucinda.” Riel extended his hand, and reluctantly, she took it. It felt warm and strong, and a bit calloused, too. The next moment she was in his arms, with one hand clasped in his and the other resting on his shoulder. The fine fabric of his tailored jacket could not hide the hard muscle beneath. Her heart beat erratically. Upon her waist, Lucinda felt the imprint of each of his fingers. They seemed to sizzle into her flesh.

The man unnerved her. More so, it seemed, the closer she got to him.

Riel led her with unexpected grace across the dance floor.

“You dance well, for a pirate,” Lucinda told him, feeling the need to jar the uncomfortable closeness between them.

He chuckled. “Perhaps I am not the thorough barbarian you believe me to be.”

“Oh, you are. Of that I am sure, Mr. Montclair…your titles of Baron and Duke not withstanding.”

“Sophie told you.”

“Of course. Do titles mean so little to you?”

He remained silent for a few moments. “They are not what make a man. Character, honor and integrity do.”

“And you possess the full measure of each?”

His half smile looked surprisingly self-deprecating. “I try, Lucy. But I know you’ll believe what you will. You seem to prefer to look upon me as the devil incarnate.”

“I do not.” Lucinda felt aghast.

“Then how do you see me? Not with favor. You have made that clear from the first day we met.”

Lucinda searched for words to describe what she felt for the man who held her so close that she felt very aware of every point where their bodies connected, and of his dark gaze that tangled with her own, demanding her full attention.

“I think you are wonderful to Sophie.” Lucinda admitted. At the same time, she didn’t want to go overboard and stroke his all confident ego, either. “But to me…your manners leave much to be desired.”

He pulled her a fraction closer as they went into a turn. Lucinda’s heart beat faster as she caught a waft of the clean scent of his skin. The warmth of his body seemed to seep deep into her pores.

Riel said in a quiet, low voice, “And are your manners perfectly impeccable?”

“What?” Flustered, Lucinda couldn’t seem to remember their topic of conversation.

His midnight eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched. “You are not wool gathering, are you, Lucy?”

Lucinda flushed. “No. I…I am thinking on matters of other import.”

“Such as?”

She grasped for a new topic. “Such as why Jonathon thinks he’s met you before. And you became tense when he asked. Why?”

He smiled. “How quickly you change the subject.”

“Answer my question.”

“If I have met Jonathon before, I do not remember him.”

He told her the truth; she could see it in his eyes. Then why had he stiffened when Jonathon asked if they’d met? Perhaps he felt wary of anyone who might know some corner of his dark secret. “What are you hiding, Riel Montclair?”

His hooded gaze looked contemplative. “So little trust between us. Perhaps we should focus on the present, and your future. That is all that is important to me.”

“The past does not matter?”

“All that matters is I will see you safely married. And then you need never see me again.”

His statement hit her like an unexpected blow. “You eagerly await that day, as well?”

“I look forward to the day when we can finally have peace between us.”

“I have not been fighting you.”

“No? You still do not want me here. You don’t want me to be your guardian. It’s written all over your face. You ran away so I could not sign your dance card.”

“But you pursued me and signed it anyway!” she returned with asperity.

“Are you displeased?”

Her face warmed, and she found she could not meet his eyes. “Of course I am displeased. I am forced to dance with a pirate. What girl could want that?”

“Not you, Lucy?”

Her eyes finally met his. Cheeks warm, she bit her lip. “If I must, I can endure the horror of it.”

He drew her close as the waltz slowed to a stop. In her ear, he said, “Good night.” His warm breath fluttered inside that delicate instrument, and then abruptly he turned and was gone. Lucinda stood still, trembling, and watched his broad back disappear into the crowd.

* * * * *

Riel could not sleep for long hours after retiring to his room. He paced the chamber, feeling restless and edgy. It disturbed him, more deeply than pleased him, that Lucy still clearly disliked him. Hadn’t he come to Ravensbrook expecting more battles with her? And yet it had not started out that way at all.

His mind replayed the way she’d involuntarily greeted him. His insides tightened, thinking of it. Their conversations had been civil, too, for the most part. And he’d enjoyed her feisty confrontations. He’d begun to think she might like him a little, and it had felt good.

But when Lucy had stated that dancing with him was a horror she could barely tolerate, it had cut, like the flay of a cat-o-nine tails.

Lucy did think of him only as a pirate. Beneath contempt.

Riel shoved a fist against his temple, feeling the old condemnation struggle for control in his soul once again. And the old doubt, too, tried to slither in like a snake.

Truly, was he little more than a pirate? At heart, was he no more than the failure he’d been all those years ago? He had been unable to save anyone then. Only Peter Hastings had saved his sorry hide from the gallows.

Peter had reassured him that God had forgiven all his sins when Riel had asked for it. Most of the time Riel believed it, but other times, like now, the guilt, anger and grief for what had happened, and what he’d done, welled up, tormenting him over and over again. His past would forever deny him a true life. It would deny him a future, and keep him forever alone.

Riel knew it wasn’t just because of Lucy that the old feelings were rising up and threatening to swallow him. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times that had happened over the last several years.

It was because of Warrington.

Surely the man had never seen Riel before; if so, surely Warrington did not remember him. Riel did not remember Jonathon. All those years ago, the present Duke would have been a boy; perhaps thirteen. But that name…that name Riel knew all too well. That name had almost signed his death warrant. That name had begun all of this misery.

He sat on the edge of his bed, clenched knuckles digging into his scalp, and struggled against the old feelings of guilt, impotent fury and worthlessness. He forced himself to remember how far he had come. More men than Peter believed him to be a man of honor and integrity now. It was the man he wanted to be. The man he intended to be.

He could not change the past. Hopefully Warrington knew nothing about it. If he did, Riel’s life as he now knew it would end.
He would be unable
to fulfill his promise to Peter. He would be unable to protect Lucy.

That could not happen. He would not allow it.

For now, Riel would face the future one day at a time. So far, all was well. As long as Jonathon did not remember, Lucy would be safe.

In a low, harsh voice, he prayed, asking God for the ability to protect Lucy until another could safely take care of her. Then he would go, and Lucy would be pleased to finally be rid of him.

Riel tried to ignore the burn of pain he felt. In truth, it did not matter what Lucy thought of him. He had a job to do, and a promise to fulfill. And he would fulfill it, no matter the ultimate cost to himself.

* * * * *

Lucinda had hurt Riel’s feelings. She had suspected it last night, but it became clearer on Christmas, which dawned as a bright, sunny day.

Lucinda had never thought she could possibly touch Riel’s feelings. He always seemed so strong and detached from the world around him—and from her. But last night, when she’d told Riel that dancing with him was a horror she could barely endure…it had cut him somehow.

She had
said
it. But she hadn’t meant it. Not at all. In fact, it had been a lie; the ultimate tongue-in-cheek irony, and the complete opposite of how she truly felt. She’d said it only to protect herself. And to push him away. She had succeeded.

Lucinda watched him now, and she felt bad about how she had hurt him. Riel seemed unusually quiet and reserved this morning.

They had all gathered in the parlor around the Christmas tree. Snow sparkled outside, reflecting cold winter light into the room. Lucinda had purchased presents for Sophie, of course, and for the staff. In addition, the staff bonuses had already been received with exclamations of gratitude. But she had nothing for Riel.

Only two presents remained. One for her, and one for Sophie. Both from Riel.

“Open yours first,” she urged Sophie.

As eager as a child, the older lady ripped at the fine gold paper with her well-manicured nails. “Oh!” Mouth rounded, Sophie pulled out a light blue, fluffy confection. A shawl, they discovered, when she shook it out. Sophie pressed it to her cheek. “I love it, Riel. You dear boy! It’s cashmere, isn’t it?”

“Only the best for you, Auntie.” He kissed her cheek and she kissed him back, and then she promptly arranged the shawl about her shoulders.

“It’s perfect. Just what I need.” Aunt and great-nephew looked to Lucinda next.

Her package felt light, and just the shape of Sophie’s. A careful ripping of paper revealed a lemon yellow shawl, which felt as soft as a kitten. Tears of pleasure stung her eyes. “Riel! Thank you.”

He nodded, and gathered up the bits of paper.

“I…I’m sorry,” Lucinda said. “I have nothing for you.”

He barely glanced at her. “It is all right.”

“It’s not.”

He stopped what he was doing and gave her a long look. “It is not.”

As if sensing the undercurrent in the room, Sophie rose to her feet and shuffled for the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen, fetching a cup of tea.”

When she had gone, Riel slowly lowered his big frame onto the couch beside Lucinda. “What did you mean?”

Unexpected tears prickled her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Because you think you hurt my feelings?”

He referred to last night, Lucinda knew it. “Didn’t I? I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You hate me. At last I understand that. Do not apologize for how you feel.” He looked away, but not before she saw a flash of vulnerability, deep in his eyes.

One of her comments had finally hurt him. And she was sorry. “No, Riel. I didn’t mean what I said last night. And I don’t hate you, either.”

He glanced back with a frown. “You do not?”

The truth must be spoken, but it was hard to get out. Lucinda didn’t hate him, but she didn’t want him to rule her entire life, either. How to say that? And he disturbed her. But she certainly couldn’t tell him that! She licked her lips and whispered, “No.”

Riel regarded her steadily, but still with a faint hint of disbelief. “If you don’t hate me, then what do you feel for me?”

She didn’t know!

Lucinda managed to say, “I respect you. I believe you can be gentle and kind, because you treat your aunt that way.”

“Do you still want me gone, Lucy?”

Didn’t she? Why didn’t she say “yes”?

Because she wouldn’t mean it. Not entirely. It was an alarming admission to make to herself. While she did want to be in charge of her own life, she didn’t particularly want to see the back of her unwanted guardian, either. Lucinda felt confused. Nothing made sense.

So she struggled for more words. “I…I appreciate how you intervened with Jonathon last night. He was going a bit fast, and for a minute I didn’t know what to do. I would have managed,” she hastened to make plain, “but it made it easier for you to be the ogre. That way I didn’t have to reject him.”

“I’m glad you’re wise enough not to go anywhere alone with Jonathon.”

Indignantly, Lucinda returned, “I would never go anywhere alone with a man!”

“Is that a promise? In case I miss some of your coming Season?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

“You may not be back for the Season?” Lucinda again felt a curious sense of disappointment. Tomorrow he would leave. When would she see him again? More importantly, she told herself, how would it affect her Season in London?

“I do not know. Sophie will chaperone you as best she can. I will need to ask you to curtail your activities to those she is well enough to attend.”

Lucinda felt a stab of disappointment, and then an idea flashed to mind. “Amelia said she and her mother are going down for a month. What if Lady Carlisle chaperones the events Sophie cannot make?”

He nodded. “I will accept that.” After a moment, Riel spoke again, slowly. “If Sophie’s attacks get no better, you may not be able to go to London at all.”

“But I must. How else will I meet new people?”

A log collapsed in the fireplace, sending a shower of sparks into the screen.

“You mean a potential husband.” He stood abruptly and headed for the poker.

“No. Father didn’t want me to marry until I’m twenty. That’s over a year and a half away. I’m not ready to find a husband, and then pine for him until I turn twenty.”