The Pirate's Desire (8 page)

His mind returned to their earlier conversation. She hadn’t heard everything Haskins had said to him, although clearly she was quick to believe the worst. His gut told him if she knew the full truth of his past, which he did not intend for the British Navy to ever discover, she would not see it the way her father had. The dislike she felt for him would deepen into contempt.

Self-disgust twisted in him, for in truth, he felt the same way. How long would his past haunt him? For how long would he feel the need to make amends for what he had done? Forever?

He believed in God’s forgiveness, and he’d asked for it, as Peter Hastings had advised, but still, Riel could not forgive himself. He felt certain Lucy would not forgive him, either. No, the truth would provide fuel for her to evict him from her life as speedily as a skiff with the wind at its back.

No, he thought grimly, Lucy must not find out. He must fulfill his promise to her father and protect her. A deathbed promise.

He’d made it five days ago, when Peter lay on the deck of the
Tradewind
with his life’s blood seeping from his chest. Face as pale as death, his eyes had opened and stared skyward. “Riel.” The scratchy whisper drew his attention.

“I am here.”

Peter’s eyes, dilated in agony, focused on him. “Riel.” The older man’s hand gripped Riel’s arm with surprising strength. “My daughter…”

“Lucy.”

“Yes,” he gasped. The Earl’s eyes looked heavenward, as if seeing something far off…a truth beyond the constricting barriers of time and space. “Protect her…from the wolfff…” The last word slurred, so Riel couldn’t tell if Peter had said “wolf” or “wolves.” Either way, the meaning was clear enough. The hairs prickled up on the back of his neck. Peter saw something that could—or would—happen in the future.

The Earl’s eyes widened suddenly, looking wild. Clearly and sharply, he ordered, “Tell me you will do this!”

Riel gripped the older man’s shoulder. “I will protect her with my life. I swear it.”

Peter relaxed. A faint smile hovered. “I know…can count…you.” Seconds later, his life slipped toward the heaven he had just seen.

Now, Riel’s heart beat hard with the same urgency he’d felt then.

Lucy was a beautiful, wealthy girl. Peter was right. She would be choice prey for the wolves of London. At least until she married.

So Lucy would not chase Riel off, although clearly that was her fiercest desire. He would fulfill his promise to Peter and remain her protector and guardian; at least until he saw her safely married to some unwary nobleman. Then he would be on his way.

Amused pity flashed when Riel contemplated the man Lucy would snag with her beauty, but pierce with her thorns. Peter was right about something else, too. Lucy would either need a strong man—and he’d better love feisty confrontations, Riel thought with a faint smile—or a weak one she’d trample beneath her lovely feet.

Perhaps Riel would take pity on the most naive of her suitors and warn them off before they became too smitten. Or perhaps not. His oath bound him to Lucy until she was securely married.

Hopefully by the time of her last Season, Napoleon Bonaparte would be vanquished, and Command Headquarters would release its grip on the
Tradewind
for good. Riel longed for the day when he could sail free, with no fear of his past or the Royal Navy breathing down his neck.

Freedom. The taste of the wind in his teeth and his destiny ruled only by the cut of the sails. Riel knew it was his life, and his only future. His past ensured he could never have more. Love and marriage belonged to innocents like Lucy. Such pleasures of hearth and home would never be his, and he had accepted that. He was lucky to have his freedom…he was lucky to have a life at all. And within those boundaries he would remain content.

“My great-aunt Sophie
should arrive late tomorrow morning,” Riel told Lucinda that evening. He forked up a bite of succulent roast.

“How splendid for you. Now I will be outnumbered in my own home.”

Inwardly, Lucinda winced at her horrible, rude words. Her father wouldn’t have tolerated them, and truthfully, it made her feel sick to utter the wretched statements. But for Ravensbrook and for her own sake, she must stay her newly chosen path. Hopefully, she would be able to stomach herself in two days’ time.

Irritating Riel beyond measure was the only plot she’d been able to devise that might convince him to wash his hands of her and gallop for freedom.

Riel lay down his fork. “Do not take your quarrel with me out on my aunt.”

Of course, Lucinda would never worry or distress a frail older lady. But Riel didn’t know that. Not yet. Here was her opportunity to goad him still further: to provoke him to abandon his oath to her father. “Perhaps you should have thought of that
before
you invited her without my consent.”

He went very still, and eyed her. “You would not.”

Encouraged by the warning in his low tone, she said, “Truly? Know one thing, Mr. Montclair. Each of your decisions concerning Ravensbrook will reap a consequence. If you want my cooperation, discuss your wishes with me first.”

Long, silent moments crept by. Lucinda sensed a dark thundercloud gathering behind Riel’s unreadable features.

He rumbled, “Agree to treat her as a welcome guest, Lucinda.” The hard inflection in her name sent a shiver through her. She almost preferred that he call her Lucy. At least then he sounded faintly amused and tolerant. But wasn’t this her goal? To frustrate him beyond measure so he’d cry off guardianship duties before signing the final papers?

“I will do as I see fit,” she promised.

“Your father raised you to be a lady.”

“Of course. And that is what I am.”

“Then you will behave like a lady with my aunt.”

She offered her best, dimpled smile. “I see. You want me to soothe your ears with sweet promises. I’m sorry. You will have to live without them.”

With uneasy satisfaction, she noted that his knuckles turned white around his crystal glass. Pretending nonchalance, she cut another bite of meat and popped it in her mouth. A heavy silence elapsed, which Lucinda endeavored to ignore. After clearing her plate, she signaled for the last course. Strawberries with cream, she was happy to discover.

Was the conversation with Riel finished? Had she won?

Biting into a sweet, luscious strawberry, Lucinda swept a glance from under her lashes down the table. A mound of strawberries, with a thick dollop of cream, lay on a fine china plate before him, but he made no move to touch it. His hard brown eyes caught hers, denying escape.

“You know I must return to my ship on Monday.”

“Yes!” She injected a chipper note into her voice.

“That means I will need to leave here on Friday. I do not know when I will return.”

“Even better.”

Another long moment elapsed. “My aunt has a weak heart, Lucinda. While I am gone, I trust you will not upset her.”

Concerned, Lucinda spoke without thinking. “Could she die?”

A flicker of satisfaction gleamed, and vanished. “The doctors have predicted her death for the past eight years.”

“So, she is stronger than they think.”

“No. She just has an indomitable will to live.”

“Will she need special care? A nurse?” Lucinda suddenly realized that instead of fighting with him, she felt anxious to learn how she might help care for his aunt. She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. “You are a clever man.”

He smiled. “Aunt Sophie refuses a nurse. And Mrs. Beatty assures me a good doctor lives in the village.” Softly, he said, “So. You agree, then.”

How neatly he had cornered her. “I would never harm a frail old lady,” she said abruptly.

“But you wanted me to believe you would.”

She looked away. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I would be happy to be candid with you, Mr. Montclair. But I ask for equal frankness in return.”

He settled back. A wary look darkened his gaze. “What do you wish to know, Lady Lucinda?”

So formal. Bluntly, she said, “What are you running from?
W
hat are you hiding?”

He did not answer.

“How can I trust you, Mr. Montclair, if you will not answer my questions?” It had been worth a try, but she hadn’t truly believed he would reveal his secrets.

That black gaze shuttered. “I am fully qualified to be here. That is all you need to know.”

She blew out a breath. “Check.”

“As in chess.”

“Yes. We each possess something the other wants. For me, I want to know if I can trust you completely. Provide me with the answers I require, and I will promise to behave myself with your aunt.”

“Already I know you will, Lucy.”

She frowned. “I have promised nothing.”

He smiled. “Your tender heart betrayed you. You are worried about Aunt Sophie, and you haven’t met her yet. I have full confidence that you will behave like the lady your father raised you to be.”

How had he won so easily, yet again? Frustration surged, and she jumped to her feet. “Good evening, Mr. Montclair,” she snapped.

He rose with unhurried grace and offered a short bow. “Good evening, Lucy. Perhaps tomorrow morning we can begin on the account ledgers.”

Lucinda glared. Lips thinned with irritation, she spun and walked fast out of the room. That arrogant, obnoxious man. How dare he trick her into admitting compliance with his wishes!

Her goal to frustrate him out of hand was not proceeding according to plan.

Upstairs, Effie helped her change into a long white night rail, and then, at last, she was alone. Lucinda sat on the window seat and stared into the night.

Vexing Riel may prove more difficult than she’d thought. Her plan to be such a thorn in his side that he’d throw in the towel and gallop off in a fury wasn’t going so well. She’d continue to try, but had doubts about its final outcome.

Unfortunately, she didn’t see Riel giving up—not on anything. In fact, she unhappily suspected he was the sort of man who, after setting his mind to something, persevered no matter the storms that blocked his path. He was a man who accomplished his goals.

Depression licked through her spirit.

What should she do? If she failed in her quest, what would happen to Ravensbrook? To herself? What sort of a man was Riel Montclair? True, he had a dark secret, but without proof of an unknown, evil deed, or proof that he planned to steal from Ravensbrook, of what benefit were those suspicions to accomplishing her goal? What could she do?

Her gaze traced the outlines of the far trees across the meadow. How she longed to gallop into the darkness and leave all of her grief and cares behind. To feel the cool breeze on her face, to hear the thundering hooves and see the ground flying by… What joy, what freedom, to embrace the wild hope that she could truly escape…perhaps to a faerie land, as she’d imagined as a child, and live a whole new life. One free of worries and responsibility, and instead filled with bright adventure and love.

The clump of Riel’s boots in the hall rudely wrenched Lucinda from her fanciful, half-remembered dreams.

No faerie lands awaited her. And it was too dark to ride. The full moon remained days away. So that temporary escape would be denied her, as well.

Unhappily, she climbed into bed.

That black-eyed pirate must go. Tomorrow, she would do her best to vex Riel at every opportunity. It would prove to be an exhausting day, for she must also get through her father’s funeral, too. Not to mention welcome Riel’s aunt to Ravensbrook.

Lucinda pulled the covers over her head. Tears seeped from her eyes. Somehow, she would accomplish her goal. She must. Everything would be all right. It would.

* * * * *

After breakfast the next morning, Lucinda asked Mrs. Beatty if she had aired out a suite of rooms on the first floor for Riel’s aunt. Of course the efficient housekeeper had already accomplished this necessary task, so Lucinda reluctantly next went in search of Riel.

He had mentioned that he’d show her the ledgers this morning. Much as she would prefer to avoid him, Lucinda girded up her courage to set her unsavory plan in motion. In truth, she did want to understand the ledgers, so she could take control of Ravensbrook’s financial obligations as soon as Riel departed.

She found Riel in her father’s study, sitting at his desk, studying an array of open ledgers. For a second, she observed him before announcing her presence. He wore all black today, and it made his large frame appear even broader in the small study. Certainly, his sheer physical presence and size eclipsed the memory of her father sitting in the same seat. Her father had been slim like herself, of a medium build, and with thinning gray hair and spectacles. How she missed him.

A tight knot gathered in her throat. Today she would bury him. He would never again sit in this study. Only this man would, until she married—or until she somehow banished him for good.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Montclair. Hard at work, I see.”

He looked up and rubbed at the frown between his brows. After the barest hesitation, he stood. “Lady Lucinda.” His gaze ran down her black dress—the same one she’d worn yesterday—and flicked back up, over the golden curls perched atop her head. “Good morning.”

“Such formality,” she said in mock surprise. “Finally, you pretend proper manners.”

A smile glimmered. “Sit down, Lucy. Here.” One broad, tanned hand pulled a straight-backed, softly cushioned Queen Anne chair next to his. “We can begin your lesson.”

He’d called her Lucy again. However, she knew the hopelessness of arguing with him about it. Instead, she’d pick fresh battles; battles she was certain to win.

“Have you forgotten all etiquette, Mr. Montclair?” She cast the proffered chair a dubious glance. “It would be most unseemly for us to sit so close together.”

He shot her a look of amusement. “You may sit on the other side of the desk, if you prefer. But I do not recommend it, unless you can read upside down.”

Lucinda swept her skirts aside and tugged the chair a foot clear of his. “That is not what I meant, Baron. If you hadn’t spent so many years at sea, perhaps you would know the basic proprieties.”

A smile flickered across his straight mouth. “Perhaps you would be so good to teach me.”

She met his steady, amused gaze, and a disturbed flush warmed her cheeks. “I am sure your dearth of knowledge is too abysmal to remedy.” She glanced pointedly at the ledgers. “May we begin?”

Riel slid a ledger before her. “I believe I understand how your father set up his books. Mine are not too different. Look…” He launched into an explanation of debits and credits and payments and income that left Lucinda’s head reeling. Clearly, Riel relished the task before him, for he spoke with passion. It also became evident that he possessed a quick, precise mind.

Lucinda was sharp—she’d been one of the top students at Miss May’s School for Young Ladies—but this was too much, too fast. Her mind soon glazed into a state of panicked bewilderment. She didn’t like it. She was in over her head, and she didn’t understand what he was talking about.

The only thing she grasped was that simple addition and subtraction seemed to be involved—thankfully, a skill she’d mastered. But as far as setting aside monies here and there, and totaling them all up so they didn’t exceed the budget…it was too much.

“Stop,” she said faintly.

Riel glanced at her. A frown twitched his brows together.

With a shaky hand, Lucinda closed one of the books. “That is enough for today.” She made to get up.

“Lucy?” His warm, calloused fingers curled around her wrist, gently stopping her flight. “What is wrong?”

Tears swam in her eyes. “Are you trying to confuse me on purpose?”

“No.” He appeared genuinely taken aback. “Perhaps I have gone too fast. Sit down, and we will start again.

Lucinda pulled her wrist free and edged away from her chair. “I think not. I…I think perhaps I’m not ready to learn right now.”

“I am sorry.” Now he stood, too. “Perhaps I was mistaken, thinking you’ve helped your father with the books before?”

Drat it, a tear hovered on her lashes, ready to plummet down her cheek. “I have never seen a ledger in my life.” The admission cost her a great deal of pride.

“I am sorry,” he said again. “Please sit. We will start again, but slower this time.”

With reluctance, she slid back into the chair. Clasping her fingers together in her lap, she leaned forward to pay close attention to every word Riel said.

To her relief, first he explained what the different lines and columns meant on each page. From there, he taught her rudimentary accounting principles, so that when the clock chimed an hour past, Lucinda was surprised to discover she was beginning to understand…at least a little…what the ledgers were all about.

“That’s enough for now.” Riel closed the books. “Aunt Sophie will arrive soon. You will wish to refresh yourself.”

“Of course. Thank you for being so patient with me.” The words of appreciation escaped before Lucinda could censor them.

Riel’s dark eyes met hers. “You are welcome, Lucy.”

He was much closer than she’d realized, and faint warmth stained her cheeks. His arm brushed hers as he gathered up the books. Her heart beat faster, and she watched his broad shoulders shift as he put the books to the side. Rays of sunlight filtered through the lace curtains and cast the blunt angles and planes of his face into fascinating textures of tan and bronze. Riel was a handsome man.

Hastily, she gained her feet and swept for the door.

“Lucy.” His deep voice stroked like velvet over her jittery nerve endings.

Affecting a calm nonchalance, she turned back.

“If you are interested, I will continue to teach you the books each morning until I leave. I do not think, however, that you will be ready to keep the accounts while I am gone.”