The Pirate's Jewel (23 page)

She pulled away from him, and he let go without the least
resistance. He was right. Her mother’s shame came back to her in waves. And
even more powerfully, her own shame. She wouldn’t risk laying the burden of her
foolishness on a child she might be carrying—not if she didn’t have to. She
should be grateful to Nolan for offering marriage. Unfortunately, her hurt
didn’t allow her to be. “How do I know you won’t leave us if we become too much
trouble?”

“Never,” he swore. “Once we’re married, I’ll never desert
you. I’m committed to the revolution, and I plan to fight, but I’ll give you my
name and my financial support. You and our children will be provided for
always.” He fell silent, waiting for her answer. Abruptly, he shoved his hands
into his pockets. He smiled without humor. “And who knows, perhaps that’s good.
With the war on, there’s a chance my ship will be lost at sea.”

Jewel raised her chin. Over the years she’d learned to hold
her head up even if her heart was breaking. “Well, at least there’s something
to hope for.”

Nolan’s smile faded. “I’ll expect you on deck within the
hour, prepared to become my wife.” He turned and headed for the door. When he
paused, Jewel jerked her head up. Why did he still linger in the room? They’d both
already said more than either wanted to hear. She forced the hurt on her face
into a mask of indifference. She was sure she failed miserably, but a life with
Nolan would surely give her many chances to practice. “As my wife, you belong
to me. I won’t stand for another man trespassing on what is mine. Be
forewarned—unless you want another death on your conscience.”

The moment Nolan shut the door, she snatched the discarded
brush from the desk, ready to attack the tangles he’d created in her hair.
Instead, she reared back her arm to hurl it, fantasizing the brush was a dagger
and the door was Nolan’s broad-shouldered back. The door swung open, and she
quickly clutched the brush to her chest.

“I want your hair down. I never want to see it up again,”
Nolan commanded.

Jewel let the brush tumble to the deck with the rest of
her wistful dreams. All her childhood fantasies had abruptly come to an end.

Nolan studied the stiff couple standing before him, who looked
almost as miserable as he felt. Parker stared at his feet. Considering the man
was standing in as the groom, his efforts to avoid eye contact with the bride were
valiant. But Parker needn’t have tried so hard. Jewel’s gaze drifted out over
the sea. Deep sadness pulled at the corners of her eyes, betraying her broken heart.
Maybe she was contemplating her options.

Nolan wouldn’t be too surprised if she chose to jump
rather than marry him. Unshed tears created a crystal film over her green eyes.
In her misery, those eyes shone like jewels, truly befitting the name Bellamy
had requested for his daughter. Nolan wished he didn’t remember that particular
anecdote at this particular moment.

Stray tendrils of hair he had missed in his rough efforts
to pull it back whipped across her cheeks and blew into Jewel’s eyes. She
didn’t bother to brush them from her face. Her unhappiness seemed to consume
her. No doubt she hated him as much as he hated himself. Nolan stared up at the
sky and winced. How dare the sun shine today?

He glanced at Wayland, who stood on Jewel’s right. The man
had insisted on standing in for her father. When Bellamy Leggett’s name had
been mentioned, Jewel turned a chalky shade of white. Nolan was sure he’d done
the same, and had hastily agreed to Wayland’s request. More than enough ugly
things had been said in anger for one day.

Wayland rested his hand on the long dagger in his waistband.
“Are you sure this is official?” he asked.

Nolan returned his glare. “It is. You have my word of
honor.”

Wayland made a noise in the back of his throat. “A little
late for that, isn’t it, lad?” he said under his breath.

Nolan took a step toward him. He had an image of
strangling the stringy bastard’s neck, and it felt too good not to follow
through. He needed a release from his tension, and Wayland was overdue for a
good thrashing.

Jewel stepped between them. She held up a crumpled bouquet
of herbs. In the other hand, she clutched a red silk scarf. “Let’s get this
over with. Please.”

Nolan returned to his place. Wayland rearranged his knife
as if itching to use it. Nolan would have loved to give him the chance, but he
owed it to Jewel to make this painful charade quick. He glanced back to her.
The dried herbs she clutched smelled of onions and salted pork. “Where did you
get that?”

“The galley. Actually, Wayland found it for me. He thought
I should have a bouquet.” She glanced at the old pirate and smiled weakly.

Nolan narrowed his gaze. It seemed even Wayland had
managed to work his way back into her good graces. He gestured to the red scarf
she clutched in her other hand. “No. That.”

“You left it in my cabin. I wanted to have it with me.
Something borrowed.” She shrugged and studied her feet.

Nolan had carried the bit of silk since the moment she had
snatched it from her bodice and handed it to him with the map. It must have
dropped from his pocket when he had hastily peeled off his clothes last night.
The cloth was a symbol of his desire for a woman he had dared not touch. For
Jewel, the scarf was a reminder of her father. The idea chilled Nolan, the link
of his downfall and Bellamy’s.

He cleared his throat. Jewel’s knuckles had gone bloodless,
clutching the dried herbs, whose brittle leaves crumbled to the deck. This was
one of the worst moments in four people’s lives and it was all his fault.

Parker shifted again, as if the deck had grown unbearably
hot under his feet. Not only did he probably fear Nolan would cut him down at
any moment, he’d barely escaped matrimony to a very religious and dour young
woman himself before they’d set sail—his father’s plan to settle him down.
Nolan had stepped in and offered to take him as a crewman, and no doubt Parker was
remembering the close call.

Jewel stood stiffly straight as she stared into the
distance. Wayland showed his rotten teeth like a mangy mutt ready to pounce.
Nolan didn’t have to see himself to know he appeared the scowling vulture,
looming over them all. He likened himself to his father at the pulpit, preaching
fire and brimstone. Only Nolan was the difficult path, not the salvation at the
end.

He couldn’t even blame Bellamy for this miserable gathering.
Nolan had done it all to himself. Telling Jewel about his awful part in her
father’s death had been the right thing to do, but it should have been sooner.
And he could have been kinder.

His curt delivery of the facts had been more to punish
himself than her. When he’d begun to tell her how meeting her had changed him,
had made him realize he must defeat Bellamy not only for himself but to protect
her from his ever revealing she held the map, she’d blamed herself. He realized
then that it would be like trying to make her take responsibility for a
decision that belonged solely to him. Nor did he want her to know that her
father would put her in jeopardy for his own selfish purpose.

After seeing her with Parker in such easy camaraderie, something
he and Jewel could never share, he’d been a little crazy, a little desperate
for her not to hate him. He’d perhaps feared he’d sway her to his side with
some manipulation of the truth—or worse, a request for her mercy, something he
didn’t deserve.

Of course, he needn’t have worried. There was never a
good, safe way to tell your future bride that you’d killed her father. Nolan
gritted his teeth. They all waited for him to start, but no one said a word.
Despite the misery he was causing, he didn’t regret a thing. He wanted to marry
Jewel. And that thought unleashed something in Nolan. Something he no longer
had to fight. Had he been making things too difficult for himself?

He felt his tight features soften as he rested his gaze on
her. The sun shone on her dark chestnut hair, igniting the red streaks obtained
from her time in the tropics, tempting him to touch her. She was so beautiful
and ethereal. He ached to be a real groom, if only she would let him. He would
be a devoted husband and a good father. If she gave him the chance, he would
make everything up to her: the past, her lonely childhood, the hardships she
had suffered and especially his harsh words of that morning. She’d never want
for anything again.

A sharp jab in Nolan’s side jarred him from his thoughts.
He glanced down to find the tip of Wayland’s curved cutlass pressing against
his ribs. The pirate snarled, exposing more gum than teeth. “Get on with it. I
won’t have you changing your mind.”

Nolan’s gaze returned to Jewel. She stared back at him
anxiously. Was she hoping he would back out? He would have to disappoint her.
It was too late for either of them to change their mind. With his palm on the
flat of Wayland’s blade, Nolan pushed it away. His own guilt kept him from
speaking to the old man harshly. A father would have done no less—unless, of
course, it was Jewel’s father. Bellamy would have simply given Nolan a matching
scar on his other shoulder.

He cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today…”

The sound of Wayland replacing his cutlass hissed in
Nolan’s ears as he forced the dry words from his lips. He rushed through the
ceremony, cutting out any unnecessary phrases. He got to the part where he had
to ask Jewel if she would take him as her husband. He wanted to skip it, but he
knew the marriage wouldn’t be legal if he did. “Will you, Jewel Sanderson, take
Nolan Kenton to be your wedded husband?”

“Prudence,” she whispered. Nolan turned his head to hear
better. Having her repeat her words, especially if it were a public rejection,
burned his cheeks. “I didn’t catch that.”

“My middle name is Prudence. It was my maternal grandmother’s
name. I want you to say it.”

Nolan couldn’t help but grin, surprised and relieved.
“Prudence?”

To his delight, Jewel returned the smile, tentative though
it was. “Not very appropriate. Good thing my mother let my father pick my first
name.” Her grin faded with the mention of Bellamy, and so did Nolan’s short-lived
bubble of hope.

Wayland crossed his arms over his chest. “The time for you
two to get acquainted already raised anchor. Get on with it.”

Nolan took a deep breath, and then turned to Jewel,
meeting her gaze. He would have to look into her eyes as he repeated the
question. He prayed his voice wouldn’t shake. “Will you, Jewel Prudence
Sanderson, take Nolan William Kenton to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

She held his gaze, as if trying to see the depths of his soul.
“I will.”

He sighed in relief. He didn’t want to press his luck by
forcing her to repeat a lengthy list of vows, so he turned to Parker. The
lieutenant’s hands were clasped in front of him while he studied the billowing
sails above his head.

“Will you, Nolan William Kenton, take Jewel Prudence
Sanderson to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Parker continued to stare into
oblivion, as if he weren’t part of the proceedings. Not that Nolan could blame
him. The man was too smart to do anything else.

Nolan whistled shrilly. Parker snapped to attention. Nolan
didn’t bother repeating the question. “Say, ‘I will.’”

Parker nodded. “I will.”

With a sigh of relief, Nolan looked down at the lines he
had scribbled on a piece of paper and ran through the rest of the ceremony. “I
now pronounce you man and—”

“Hold on there, lad. I don’t see no ring,” interrupted Wayland.

Nolan hadn’t even thought of that. He looked down at his
hands, knowing he didn’t wear jewelry but not sure what to do. “I don’t have
one. I’ll buy it later.”

“I heard that one before.” Wayland pulled a ring Nolan
hadn’t noticed from his pinky. He tossed it over. “This’ll do.”

Nolan caught the ring. When he opened his hand to look at
it, the deck of the ship might as well have lurched beneath him. The sensation
of falling forced him to adjust his stance. The plain gold ring had two
initials on its face:
WK
. William Kent. It was Nolan’s grandfather’s
ring. The last time Nolan had seen it, the ring had been on Bellamy’s finger.
Bellamy had stolen it from Nolan along with the map. He hadn’t gotten it back before
he’d marooned the old bastard.

Nolan glanced to Wayland for an explanation.

Wayland raised an eyebrow. “You made your bed, now it’s
time to lie in it. So to speak.”

Nolan closed his eyes and composed himself. His sense of
doom threatened to throw him to the deck a second time. If he opened his eyes
and saw Bellamy’s ghost hovering over the ceremony, he wouldn’t have been any
more taken aback. But Wayland was right. It was too late to turn back now.

He opened his eyes and saw only Jewel, and he felt his
strength returning. Gently, he took her left hand and slipped the ring on her
finger. It was too big, but she made a fist to keep it from sliding off. When
she wrapped her fingers around his grandfather’s ring, Nolan had cause to hope.
Maybe things had come full circle and his marriage to Jewel would right some eternal
wrong.

He cleared his throat. “I now pronounce you man and wife.
You may kiss the bride.” Nolan jerked his head up as he realized what he had
just said.

Parker held up his hands as if at knifepoint and took a
giant step backward. Jewel stared at her feet.

Nolan moved forward, afraid she wouldn’t let him kiss her.
He touched her shoulders and she glanced up. Before she could pull away, if
that was her intent, Nolan lowered his head and captured her lips. The contact
seared him with a flood of erotic memories. He forced his mouth to remain soft
and yielding. After five years of celibacy, last night’s encounter had only
whet his appetite. Unexpectedly, she grazed the tip of his tongue with her own.
He pulled away abruptly, the shy caress as powerful as a stroke of his cock. He
loosened his tight grip on her shoulders and slowed his breathing. He didn’t
want his crew to see how effortlessly she controlled him. A touch of her tongue
had him burning for her.