The Pirate's Desire (30 page)

Mid-July, 1814

For Lucinda,
the Season was over. She said goodbye to Amelia and her family and rode with Riel and Effie to Iveny, where the funeral was held and Sophie buried.

Lucinda wept off and on for days. It didn’t seem fair that God would take her father, and then her best friend. All within two years. The pain seemed more than she could bear. One small comfort was knowing Sophie had been at peace about it. In fact, Lucinda believed toward the end Sophie had rather looked forward to heaven. To seeing her beloved Charles, and living in a place where no more sickness, death, or pain existed.

Sophie lived in a far better place than the misery in which Lucinda now lived.

A few days after Sophie’s funeral, Riel took her home to Ravensbrook.

“I am taking the
Tradewind
on a merchant voyage,” he told her on the night of their arrival.

Pain blistered in Lucinda’s heart. She whispered, “You’re leaving?” Here it was. The beginning of the end. He would return to his mistress, the sea.

“I will be back.” His dark gaze offered no more.

Lucinda couldn’t bring herself to ask when he’d return. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Wasn’t this for the best? Perhaps during his absence she would forget the impossible, insane love she felt for him. That confounding love continued to grow every minute she was with him. If he left, perhaps the torment in her heart would heal.

Perhaps, eventually, she would find another man. She couldn’t imagine it. Certainly, she’d never fall in love again. Not ever. It hurt, horribly, but life wasn’t fair, was it? Not to her father, not to Sophie. Not to herself.

“What…what of Ravensbrook’s accounts?”

“You can pay them, Lucy.”

She raised surprised eyes to his. “You believe I’m capable?”

“I believe you can do anything you set your mind to.”

She licked her lips and made a decision. “Good. Then tell me, once and for all, what happened all those years ago. Why you murdered that man.”

Riel rocked back on his heels. “You still want to know?”

“Of course I do. Sophie told me there’s more to the story. I want to know the full truth, Riel. Before you return to your first love, the sea.”

“The sea is not my first love, Lucy.” His gaze held hers.

Surprised hope flickered. “Then why did you say you want to spend the rest of your life at sea?”

“I am not fit for any other life.” He must mean because of the murder he had committed. Was that why he’d chosen the sea? Not a love, then, but a prison.

“Come sit with me on the terrace.”

Outside, she sat in Sophie’s favorite chair, and Riel sat in Lucinda’s. His gaze sought hers. “Are you sure you want to hear this? It’s a gruesome tale.”

“I’m sure.” It didn’t matter anymore, what he had done. Not to her heart. She loved him. But her mind still needed to know the full truth.

Riel began, “As I told you, I crewed on a ship to the Barbary Coast. You were right—it was a pirate ship. The men on it were hard, greedy and selfish. After I was initiated, a bond knit us together like brothers. At least, I believed so.

“I became friends with a lad named Pen. He was about my age, but small in size. We both worked the sails, and Pen was as nimble as a monkey. When I was seventeen, we docked in Tangier, Morocco for a few weeks to sell our gain and to take on supplies and water. I learned something then that changed my life forever.”

Lucinda shifted in her chair. A horrible fascination glued her attention to his words. And sickness plagued her, too, knowing she was about to learn how Riel had killed someone.

Riel stood and paced.

“I went below deck to grab my boots to go into town. I saw Pen, then, changing his clothes…
her
clothes, I realized in shock. I don’t know how she’d kept it a secret for six months on that ship. Anyway, she turned and saw me and begged me to keep her secret. I told her it was too dangerous. She had to get off the ship. If any of the men found out…” Riel shook his head, and looked far away, as if into the past.

“She refused, and we argued, loudly. She jumped off the ship, onto the dock. I tried to follow her, but the first mate, a man by the name of Desalt, stopped me. I could tell by his grin that he’d heard us arguing. He knew Pen was a woman. I warned him off, but he just laughed at me.”

Riel remained silent for a moment. “I tried to follow Pen, but I couldn’t find her. Stupidly, I stayed out late, drinking. It was dark when I got back to the ship. Pen wasn’t back. Desalt wasn’t there, either. I slept off the alcohol, and the next morning Desalt was back. Pen wasn’t. I asked if he’d seen her. He gave me a greasy smile and said, ‘Make it worth my while, an’ I’ll tell you.’”

Riel clenched his fists at the memory. “I was scared. He could have done anything to her. But whatever he’d done, it had lined his pockets. I watched him all day. At dusk he left the ship, and I skipped duty to follow him.”

Lucinda listened with bated breath. So far, it didn’t sound like a tale of murder. Rather of a young man worried about his friend. When Riel didn’t speak for a long time, she scanned his face. It looked tortured.

At last he said, “I…” That one word sounded guttural, and he cleared his throat. “I followed him.” Riel’s voice grew unnaturally quiet. “He entered a house in the worst section of town…a brothel, I could tell. As he went in, a man came out. A tall aristocrat,
who looked
self-satisfied. He fiddled with his cravat, tweaking it as if he were some preening bird. He
wore a top hat,
he had dark hair, and he was young; I guessed about twenty-four. He looked out of place. It didn’t look like an establishment for an aristocrat.”

Riel drew a breath, as if girding himself to go on. “After Desalt went inside, women started screaming. Upstairs, it sounded like. I ran in and up the stairs. Three or four women stood in a doorway, shrieking. One fainted. I ran inside and stopped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Pen lay on the floor, half dressed…like a tramp. And…and blood was all over her.” His voice sounded thick, now. “Desalt was shaking her, yelling at her. She didn’t move, so he put his hands around her throat and throttled her, and screamed even louder.”

Riel gripped the table, as if for support. “Something inside me snapped. I launched at him and dragged him off her. I punched him again and again. I couldn’t stop. All I saw was blood…Pen’s blood…and Desalt’s.” He drew a long, shaky breath.

“Desalt fought me back. He swung a chair at me. I grabbed it and yanked him forward so hard his head cracked on a dresser. It sounded like a gunshot. He fell to the floor and didn’t move.

“Soon after, men in British military uniforms swarmed into the room. Your father was there, Lucy. He asked what had happened. Only one woman spoke English. I was in shock, and held Pen in my arms. I couldn’t speak. Desalt was dead. Pen was dead. The soldiers carted me off to their ship. Captain Hastings wanted to sort matters out with the British consulate, since all of the people involved were English. Well, I was half English, but that was close enough. He didn’t want trouble with the Moroccan government.”

Riel sat down and buried his head in his hands. “The Duke of Warrington was the Consul under the British Consul-General, James Matra, at the time.”

Lucinda gasped.

“He wanted me to hang for murder—for both Desalt’s and Pen’s. Preferably on the British warship. But he’d accept turning me over to the Moroccan government, or extraditing me to London to swing. He wanted to prove to the Sultan that the English are tough on their own.

“Captain Hastings spoke on my behalf, but I didn’t understand why. I’d talked to him in the brig and tried to tell him what had happened. I confessed to killing Desalt. I signed my own death warrant by admitting it, but I was ready to die. I had killed a man in a violent rage. Desalt had not even harmed Pen. She was dead when he arrived.” His voice broke. “I killed an innocent man.”

Lucinda could keep silent no longer. “He was
not
innocent! Desalt had obviously sold Pen into prostitution. The customer he forced upon Pen killed her. Desalt was as guilty as the actual murderer!”

“No. It was my fault. I should have tried harder to find Pen that first night. But I got drunk, instead.” Self-disgust roughened Riel’s voice. “I failed her, and then I killed a man.”

Lucinda waited, knowing there was more.

After a moment, he continued. “I burned to know who had killed Pen. In my gut, I thought it was that aristocrat I’d seen. While Captain Hastings pled for leniency for me, I sat in a cabin packed with people; news people, Moroccan officials, and the ghoulish and the curious. I saw all sorts of people…and then I saw him. The man who had left the brothel that night. He wore no top hat, but I knew him. I shouted, ‘That’s him!’ He didn’t even flinch. His lips curled into a sneering smirk, just like they had night.

“The warped bastard!” Riel said now through his teeth. “One of my shipmates heard me. He asked what I meant, and I told him.

“The trial progressed, and I fully expected to hang the next morning. But somehow—I’ll never know how, or why—Peter took the Consul aside and convinced him to let me go. Then he spoke to Sultan Mawlay Sulayman’s men. I’ll never know what your father said to any of them. But I was a free man. Peter advised me to leave Morocco immediately. He arranged for me to set sail on an English ship the next morning. Before we sailed, my friend from the pirate ship stopped by and told me the aristocrat was dead. They’d jumped and killed him in the street the previous night. He was the son of the British Consul, the Duke of Warrington. Jonathon’s older brother.”

Stunned, Lucinda said, “So Jonathon did recognize you. He must have been at your trial.”

“Yes. What he doesn’t know is that I’m responsible for his brother’s death, too.”

“What?”

“I named him to my friend. I knew what could happen. Even worse, he could have been innocent.”

“But he wasn’t.”

“No. My friend coerced a confession from him. He was guilty, all right. And he hadn’t given Pen the money he’d promised Desalt, either. That’s why Desalt was so upset that night, and why he attacked Pen.”

“What an awful story!” Lucinda felt sickened. What an awful brother Jonathon had had. What a horrible influence upon an impressionable young boy.

Riel stood again. “So you see, I am a murderer. Twice over. I am responsible for the deaths of two men.”

“They were both awful men. Criminals!” Lucinda jumped to her feet. At last, she felt relieved. Riel was guilty of nothing. “Jonathon’s brother deserved to hang. But he never would have stood trial, not with his father as Consul, and peer of the Consul-General. Justice was served, Riel.”

“Perhaps. But Desalt is dead. I killed him with my own hands. He was a greedy swine, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

Lucinda did not agree. “It was an accident, Riel,” she said softly, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You didn’t mean to kill him. He cracked his head on a dresser. The dresser killed him!”

A ghost of a smile touched Riel’s lips, but soon vanished. “I would have beaten him to a bloody pulp. Murder was in my heart.”

“Rage. Not murder,” she said. “And grief for your friend.” She felt the tension in his arm, and the tight control under which he always held himself. Now she understood why. And she realized that grief still consumed him…and guilt did, too; for being unable to save Pen, and for killing the scoundrel Desalt.

“Riel.” She moved to face him. Her gaze ran over his features. His eyes looked as black as pitch, and the blunt lines of his face were taut with self-condemnation. “Riel,” she said again, and touched his cheek. “My father did not think you were guilty,” she whispered, “and neither do I.”

Disbelief flickered. “You don’t?”

“No, Riel. It’s time to forget the past. Think instead about the man you have become.”

“You see value in me?” He sounded vulnerable.

She gave a breath of a laugh. “Do I see value in you?” She loved him! “You are the most honorable man I’ve ever met. My father was right about you.”

“So you will allow me to stay in your life, as your guardian?”

“I won’t chase you away, if that is what you are asking.”

“It is all I am asking…for now.”

Her heart beat faster when she looked up at him. But she could read nothing on his face except for a smile. “Then you will leave tomorrow?” Disappointment lodged in her heart.

“I promised suppliers a shipment.”

“All right.” He was a ship’s captain. It was his life. At least it wasn’t his first love. Hope unfurled. So much had happened in the last few weeks. Perhaps she needed to give herself time to grieve for Sophie, and to come to grips with what Jonathon had done to her. She needed to heal. Learning the secrets of Riel’s past finally put to rest all of her doubts and fears. He was honorable and fair…the man she’d always hoped and believed him to be. And he would return to her.

But still she did not know what he felt for her.

“When will you be back?”

“By your birthday, Lucy. Will that be soon enough?”

Three long months. “Of…of course.”

His gaze ran gently over her face, as if trying to memorize every detail. “Let’s go over the ledgers together.”

* * * * *

Riel left early the next morning, before she was up, as he’d told her he would when they’d scoured the ledgers together the afternoon before. She’d enjoyed every one of those quiet minutes, working at his side, and feeling the occasional brush of his arm, and inhaling the clean masculine scent that was just Riel. Sometimes, when she leaned close to him, he would pull away after a moment, as if determined to put distance between them

It hurt. Lucinda did not understand him at all. But then again, everything about her life had been pretty muddled for the past few months. It might be best that he’d decided to leave for awhile. She repeatedly told herself this as she went about the daily tasks of Ravensbrook in the months that followed. Perhaps by the time he returned, she would have her head on straight.