The Pirate's Secret Baby (26 page)

"You are attached to Mattie."

There was no sense in denying it. "Yes, I am, Captain. I will miss being her governess."

He frowned at her. "Why would that occur? We worked out your agreement to stay."

"For now, but I cannot stay forever. What if you marry, Captain? Your wife will not want a governess who is part of the
Prodigal Son's
pirate crew."

"If I marry, my wife will have to accept my crew as well. Nash, Turnbull, Fuller--they're already at our destination. Norton and Conroy are here with us. Sails will join us soon." He looked down at the sleeping child. "And then there's Marauding Mattie..."

Lydia didn't realize her hand tightened protectively on the child until she murmured in her sleep. Would a stepmother love Robert St. Armand's bastard? She bit her lip and gazed out the window at the village they were entering as the sun cast a golden afternoon glow over the countryside.

"You could--" Whatever he was starting to say was cut short when Norton pulled up on the horses, and Conroy jumped down and opened the carriage door.

The inn yard was bathed in light and a few fallen leaves, looking prosperous and tidy. The innkeeper himself rushed out to greet the new arrivals.

"Lord and Lady Huntley! How wonderful to have you stay with us. Your man Fuller has made all of the arrangements, and we have two chambers and a private parlor, as you requested."

Lydia froze at the innkeeper's words.

"Who are Lord and Lady Huntley?" she whispered to the man beside her. The rogue didn't even twitch as he took her by the arm and said, "We are, of course. And this is our little girl, Mathilde. Right, Mattie?"

"That's what you said, Papa, and I remembered," the littlest rogue fibbed. "I can play along."

"Captain--"

Lydia wasn't sure what she could say at this point that wouldn't make the situation worse, but it was like being in a bad farce. Not only was she traveling with pirates, she traveled with pirates pretending to be part of the aristocracy and who knows what other bouncers they were telling people. Not to mention she'd been introduced as "Lady Huntley," and she did not think the role was that of St. Armand's mother.

She also knew from her association with the piratical crew surrounding them that if she made a fuss and the situation turned bad, cutlasses and guns were liable to appear. It would give the people of the county something to talk about for years, but it would not end well. She clamped her mouth shut, took Mattie by the hand and followed the lead pirate into the inn.

"Everything is as you requested, m'lord. The girl will bring hot water to your rooms and we can serve your supper in an hour if that is satisfactory."

"Papa, I need to take Jolly out for his walk."

"We'll all go, Mattie."

Good. Outside she could have her say and not worry about revealing themselves to the entire inn.

The little family group headed outside with Jolly on his leash, and as soon as they were out of earshot of the inn yard, Lydia rounded on him.

"Lord and Lady Huntley? Are you insane?" she hissed. "You can't go around impersonating a member of the peerage!"

"I find I get better service if innkeepers think I'm a peer. You saw how we were welcomed. Would you rather we announce ourselves as 'the pirate captain St. Armand and the crew of the
Prodigal Son
'? Which, I might point out, includes you and Marauding Mattie here."

"And Jolly Roger," Mattie piped up. "He's part of the crew as well."

The newest crew member had taken care of business and was now sniffing around a pile of autumn leaves and acorns, jumping back and barking when a puff of wind blew the leaves up in the air around him. Mattie took the rawhide and threw it, and Jolly yipped and raced after, fetching it back to his mistress to throw again, which she did, running with the dog and stretching her legs after the long carriage ride.

"Captain St. Armand--"

He looked back at Lydia and shook his head. "No,
Lady Huntley
, for this ruse to work you must immerse yourself in the role--please, address me as Huntley or even better, Robert, or
my darling
."

"This is ridiculous! I cannot participate in this fraud!"

"Of course you can, you're well on your way to being a pirate." He glanced over to make sure Mattie was out of hearing range. "Don't you ever think about what your life would be like if you lived with fewer boundaries, scoffing at society's rules and restrictions rather than being crushed beneath them?"

"You know nothing of my life, and please do not change the subject."

"I know more than you suspect," he said, stepping closer and taking her by the elbows. He looked into her eyes, and there was no laughter in his face, none of the naughtiness he usually inflicted on her. Instead he looked solemn as he said, "Tell me what has you so afraid. I will take care of you, Lydia. I can protect you. I can keep you safe."

"By pretending to be something we are not? Dressing up as lords and ladies and telling whoppers to innkeepers does not make it real! We must be who we are, and right now I am your daughter's governess. That is all."

"I can offer you more than that."

His words must have distracted her because without realizing it they were standing even closer.

"Why do we continue to discuss this?"

"Because you are a woman of great passion, Lydia Burke, no matter that you keep it under caps and pinned up, and garbed in sackcloth. I know it, and you know it, and there is no reason we cannot appreciate what we have to offer each other."

"Passion, Captain? For every night of passion there is a morning after when the cold light reveals truths we'd rather not face. No doubt you think yourself an excellent lover. It's not enough."

"'An excellent lover'? I am flattered, but that is something you should verify for yourself, Mis-Lady Huntley."

"Stop that!" she hissed. "The child is returning, and we should return as well. The sooner we can end this ruse and get back on the road tomorrow, the better."

"But what if someone is watching us, Lydia? Shouldn't we demonstrate our affection to add verisimilitude to our roles?"

Before she could protest his lips were on hers, and her traitorous body and mind remembered the kisses they'd shared, and how he stoked within her the fires she kept banked, coals that would flare up and consume her if she wasn't careful.

But oh, she was tired of the word careful and wanted to fan those flames as he was now, and she pushed aside governess Lydia for a heartbeat, an interlude of letting rebel Lydia come out to play because that Lydia knew how to have fun, and seize life, and not worry about the morrow.

She was the one to pull away and step back from his embrace. Rebel Lydia had thrown aside respectability, and ended up hounded and running. She could not allow herself to be foolish enough to make that mistake twice in a lifetime, no matter how delicious his kisses were, how much they made her ache with longing.

"Do not say that was a mistake. It felt like anything but a mistake to me."

"Exactly why I need to do the thinking for both of us. One person here needs to be the responsible adult. I cannot rely on you to make the correct choice, so I must."

"Are you so certain it is the correct choice, Lydia?" he said softly. His hands still held her arms, not pinioning her or restraining her, but offering strength and comfort. It was nearly as dangerous as the passion between them, that comfort. It was a false harbor.

"Enough, Captain. We should return to the inn."

"No, it is not enough. But it will have to do for now."

He released her and turned away, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"You secured two rooms. I will sleep with Mattie in hers."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "That was what I always intended. You might try to sneak into my bed during the night, but I'm willing to risk it. Attach your pup to his leash, Mattie, we are going inside."

Mattie called the dog to her and he tripped over his own paws running, then wagged his tail, proud of himself for making the child laugh. She scooped Jolly up and kissed him, while he reciprocated by licking her all over her face. Lydia almost said something, then shrugged. Children had been kissing dogs--and vice versa--for millennia. Mattie would survive the experience.

Captain St. Armand stooped and picked up his beaver hat from where it fell to the ground during their embrace and brushed it off before reseating it atop his curls. The air grew cooler with the fading sunset and they were glad to return to a hot supper and warm beds.

The bedtime story that night would have been another pirate tale, but Mattie requested a pirate story with a dog, and since there wasn't one in Johnson's book, she settled for a brief re-telling of the tale of Captain Calico Jack, but grumbled that it would have been better with a dog in it.

After kissing his daughter goodnight and reminding her Jolly was to sleep in his basket, he invited Lydia to join him in the private parlor for a brandy, or tea, or something else that would fill the time until the adults were ready to turn in.

"I am not interested in drinking ale in the public room or joining in their dice games," he said. "We have a busy day tomorrow."

Lydia was so stunned by this mature and adult statement that she nearly said something, but was afraid she'd spoil the moment and said, "Tea sounds lovely, Captain."

He returned from making arrangements and an apple-cheeked serving girl appeared shortly with a tray, her face becoming even rosier at St. Armand's smile as he took it from her. Lydia poured them each a cup and inhaled the fragrant brew. A quiet cup of tea was one of the pleasures she'd enjoyed in the islands as a reminder of home and England. She fixed his the way he liked it, with extra sugar, and passed him the plate of shortbread.

He set the plate down after taking two pieces and said ruefully, "I fear I have been supplanted by a mongrel in that child's affections."

"I, for one, cannot regret this new development, Captain. Owning a dog will teach Mattie responsibility and add to her maturity. Being a pirate does not prepare a young lady to enter society and function there."

"Are you so certain? As Mattie's father I believe knowing how do defend herself against attackers puts her on a better footing with her future peers. There are sharks in society just as in the waters of the Caribbean, and I already fear I will not always been there to defend her against so-called gentlemen who will see an attractive woman and--"

He stopped, and she looked at him in sympathy. Being a father was no easy thing, especially father to a lovely young woman. Her own father had been loving, but too often exasperated by her behavior before--

That too was a path she had no desire to tread, and she steered the conversation into small talk, probing St. Armand for answers about their destination that he easily parried. After yawning a time or two she excused herself for bed, knowing they had an early start.

He made no moves to seduce or kiss her, and she assured herself she did not regret this as she climbed into her lonely bed. The dog's basket was near the door and after poking his head up to investigate he huddled back down under Mattie's old shift.

Lydia wasn't certain what woke her during the night, but she could hear a voice outside her door. Mattie was sound asleep, a small mound beneath her covers, and Lydia slipped out of bed and put her ear to the door to listen.

"And you must be very quiet so we do not wake anyone. Shhhh! Stop kissing me!"

That apple-cheeked serving girl must have returned to his room and offered more than shortbread. That libertine! St. Armand brought a woman to his rooms, here, a few feet from where his daughter lay sleeping!

Lydia didn't want to think about what it meant to her to hear him speaking in that low, affectionate tone to another woman. She was only Mattie's governess, after all, that is what she kept insisting to Mattie's father when he turned his sparkling eyes in her direction and used his "Wouldn't you love to invite me into your bedchamber?" look on her.

She carefully opened the door a crack, grateful the innkeeper kept the hinges oiled. In the darkened passage she saw him at the top of the stairway.

And he was alone.

No, not alone. There was a tiny "yip" from inside his shirt.

"Now, see here, Master Jolly, you cannot be disturbing the ladies. They're not the sort who are interested in a good romp in the dark with a handsome fellow--no, stop kissing my chin, I am not interested in romping with you either. A quick stop outdoors and then back to your basket with you, m'boy."

He moved down the stairs, still talking to the dog. After a while, Lydia heard his firm footsteps as he returned with the puppy, and she closed her eyes, expecting he would sneak the dog back into his basket. But the steps continued past her door into St. Armand's own room, and soon it was quiet again in the inn.

Lydia waited and waited for Jolly to be returned, and eventually her curiosity had the better of her. She arose and padded over to the connecting door between their rooms, opening it a notch. All was silent in St. Armand's bedchamber and she tiptoed in.

He was fast asleep, his arm cradled around a furry white ball snoring up against his shoulder.

Lydia's heart turned over with a thump.

That was it, she might as well strike her colors and surrender. The pirate boarded her heart and took it captive in the night, armed not with a pistol, but with a puppy. She had no more defenses against Robert St. Armand. Yes, he was a lying scoundrel, and she hoped fervently if there was a genuine Lord Huntley he never learned of their ruse, but he was the scoundrel who'd awakened Lydia's soul, and her passions. He was the pirate who took care of little girls and puppy dogs, and also a governess who often wished she too had a strong shoulder she could rest her head upon, someone not to take charge of her life, but to share her burdens with her. How wonderful it would be if there was a person she could turn to in the middle of the night for comfort and cuddling.

He was nude under the covers. He'd mentioned often enough in her hearing that he slept without a stitch of clothing. Her gaze traveled down the long length of him, the lithe frame and smooth muscles, the scars that made her want to lean closer and run her fingers over them.