Pirate's Conquest

by Mary Martin

  Starlin struggled feebly. "No ... no, you are jesting."

  Courtland only sneered. "No longer the Ice Princess, I would be willing to bet." His mouth came down on hers in a bruising kiss.

  A deep voice, carefully controlled yet hinting of fury, came out of the shadows and froze Courtland where he stood.

  "Unhand the girl."

  Startled, Courtland spun around to find himself staring down the point of a long gleaming sword. Rayne Morgan's voice crackled like fire in the night.

  "You don't hear very well. I said release the lady."

  Courtland hesitated, knowing the moment he freed Starlin that he might very well feel the full force of that steel searing into him. He observed one of Rayne's tawny eyebrows arch upward, and felt the tip of his blade sting his flesh.

  "Is dying more to your liking?' *

  A shudder encompassed Courtland. "Morgan, please don't... this has nothing to do with you. She's made a fool of me once too often."

  "This has everything to do with me, you son of a cur." Rayne's tone was deadly, his jaw rigid with fury. "The girl is mine. To insult her is to insult me. Starlin and I have decided to marry."

  Starlin's shaking fingers clawed at Courtland. He stood there slack-jawed, too stunned to comment.

  "Morgan, you mustn't.. ." she stammered. Neither man paid her notice, they were so intent on each other.

  Courtland released his hold on Starlin. She stumbled and would have fallen if Rayne hadn't reached out

  quickly and caught her against him. She was shaking badly and too overcome by the events to protest. She could only cling to him.

  "Starlin agreed to marry you?' Courtland ground out.

  "Yes. Therefore, her whereabouts tonight are none of your business. She is mine now. Do I make myself clearr

  Courtland was furious. He had always placed her upon a pedestal, been content with her chaste kisses in hopes that things would change once they were engaged. Now, that was never going to happen. She had willingly, and easily, given herself to Rayne Morgan.

  "Damn you, Starlin," he gritted from between clenched teeth. "You have cost me everything."

  Morgan saw the change in the other man's eyes, and knew before Courtland's hand even dropped to the hilt of his sword what he was intending. In the blink of an eye, he'd shoved Starlin to the side and swiftly parried the first thrust of Courtland's blade.

  "You shall pay a price for her, Morgan!" Courtland growled, his eyes alive with fury as he advanced toward him.

  The clashing of steel upon steel broke through the quiet.

  "You fool," Rayne snarled, the curve of his blade slashing a cut on Courtland's arm. "No woman is worth your life." Like a graceful dancer he moved, making it all appear to Starlin, who watched from the sidelines in horror, as if it were another game that he participated in simply because it suited his purpose. It was not because of her honor that he crossed swords with Courtland. No woman was worth risking his life for, he'd openly admitted it. It was to defend his own honor.

  The thrusts of gleaming swords rang sharply in the night, brilliant blue sparks igniting where steel crossed steel. The two men fought determinedly. Courtland was a surprisingly good swordsman, but it was easy to see that Morgan was just toying with the man, giving him the chance to vent his anger for the slight to his proud family name. Starlin determined this by the relaxed way in which Morgan gripped his sword, the casual indifference he directed toward his combatant. He was sharply alert, and Starlin was certain he was doing his utmost to contain his actions. He had only pricked his opponent once, although the wildly pressing Courtland had left him several opportunities to thrust his sword home.

  Sweat poured down Courtland's face and into his eyes, blinding him at times to Morgan's quick sideways movements that left him without a target and fuming in outrage. Countering every one of the man's lunges, Morgan at last grew weary of the contest and decided to encourage an end to it. He stepped quickly backward as though retreating, and then swiftly darted forward on bended knee meeting Courtland's advance with ease and sending the surprised man's sword flying from his hand.

  Morgan placed the point of his blade against the stunned Courtland's heart. "Do you accept quarter, sir?' he asked with narrowed eyes.

  Courtland stared over Morgan's shoulder at Star-lin's face. He felt like everything he'd ever truly believed in had been taken from him this night. And it was her fault. Somehow, it was not right that she just walk away. But he did not wish to die. Morgan was right about that—no woman was worth death.

  Sighing tremulously, he rasped, "I do."

  Morgan lowered his sword to his side. "Good. Now, leave here and don't come back."

  Courtland glared at Starlin as he walked by her, hissing beneath his breath so that only she could hear, "Life with him will be far different from what you would have had with me, Ice Princess. But seeing the two of you together tonight.. . somehow I have to agree you are well matched. He's a cold bastard, and you, his heartless bitch."

  She flinched but said nothing in her defense. She had never loved him, but she was sorry that she'd hurt him and caused this humiliation. Tears glistened in her eyes as she watched him stride away, a seemingly broken young man.

  Morgan walked over to her. Brooding silence hung over them.

  "It is a high price for a night together, isn't it?" he said, standing over her.

  Starlin swallowed with difficulty, suddenly feeling sick inside. Surely he was not inferring that they should really marry? She would not have it.

  "We can manage to keep it quiet, milord," she said coldly. "I will talk with Buckwald after he's had a chance to regain his composure. He ... he will listen."

  "No he won't, Starlin. His pride won't allow it."

  "What are you saying?" A strange dizziness washed over her and weakness settled in her limbs.

  "There can be only one way to salvage your reputation."

  "No ... I refuse," she gasped before slipping to the ground in a dead faint.

  Rayne glanced down at the still form in his arms, a queer sensation overcoming him for a moment. He felt as if he were her protector, wanted to be, in fact. He tried not to notice the way in which her lips trembled slightly, or how good her arms felt wrapped about his neck. He thought that he'd never seen her look so lovely. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to remem­ber she was his enemy, and how with little conscious forethought, he now had the key to all of his plans. Unknowingly, the means had come to him. If he so chose, retribution was close at hand. As he brushed past the sleepy-eyed butler who answered his knock and snarled for him to show him the way to Starlin's room, the demons of vengeance began playing havoc with his emotions.

  Starlin would fit nicely into his plans after all. His possession, that he could break whenever it so suited him to do so. He laid her down on the bed and stood staring at her delicate beauty in the diffused light. Strangely, he could not fathom actually hurting her.

  "You would weaken me," he said softly, his voice unsteady, "and that I can never let you do." He spun on his heel and left the room.

  Lord Winfield was stunned to say the least when he was awakened by his butler and told that his granddaughter's intended wished to speak with him immediately. The earl wasted not a second, but hurried to the library, his hair uncombed, his spectacles barely on straight.

  At the sight of Rayne Morgan standing before the fireplace, snifter of brandy in hand, he hesitated.

  "This must be some kind of a practical joke," he muttered, eyes staring wide and disbelieving at the tall man who had not bothered to formally acknowledge his presence.

  Rayne slowly turned toward him, his features a polite mask. "No it is not, sir. Your butler informed you correctly. Your granddaughter and I plan to marry at once. We have been together for the better part of the evening, and I thought you should know of our plans."

  "I... I assumed she was with Courtland this evening?' the earl queried, looking terribly confused.

  "Yes, well, let's just
say her plans changed quite unexpectedly," Rayne replied with a stiff smile. "I had you awakened, sir, because I felt it only right to let you know posthaste. And there is much to do, and very little time to see it accomplished."

  "You, Lord Morgan, and my Starlin ... to be married," the earl breathed, sinking into a chair. "You did not speak with me of this, sir. This is highly irregular."

  "It is no joke, Earl, and I must caution you not to try and do anything to prevent our marriage. It would not be advisable."

  Time appeared to stand still as both men stared at each other, their eyes hard, unyielding. The earl read the message in Rayne Morgan's, and paled.

  "It is not for love . .. nor is this something you wish, is it?" There was no reply, but in the silence, the earl received his answer. "Dear lord in heaven ... I had hoped that you were the one."

  "I'm sorry?" Rayne replied a bit confused with the earl's last statement.

  "Something my granddaughter said to me when she found out I was considering a match between her and Courtland."

  Rayne only nodded. "He was waiting for her tonight. I had to intervene to save her reputation. As it is, the lad will tell enough."

  "Oh, merciful heavens," the earl sighed. His eyes held Rayne's. "I've always wanted the best for her, a strong man who could look after her and give her fine children. She has ridiculous notions for a woman, I know that. But she's smart, and beneath that ice-cool exterior there is a real flesh-and-blood woman. She needs the same kind of a man." He assessed Rayne closely.

  Rayne felt edgy listening to his words. "The wed­ding, sir, would you like it here?'

  "Yes, certainly. And you may invite anyone of your choosing, of course. Your family, close friends."

  "There is no one I wish to invite" came the laconic reply. "My only wish is to have all of the arrangements taken care of at once. I will secure a special license myself." He placed the empty brandy snifter on a side table and prepared to depart. "My bride and I will leave London soon after. If there is a child ... leaving will be for the best."

  "Yes, I agree." The earl nodded, praying that he was doing the right thing by agreeing to let Stariin marry this man. For a long time after Rayne Morgan departed, he sat and sorted out his feelings. He was sad, yet, for some reason, not displeased about the marriage. True, he would have chosen another, less notorious man for Stariin if he'd been allowed any say. He was well aware of English law. Stariin would be Morgan's chattel after they married. Her wealth would become his. Yet, he knew for certain that Morgan was not marrying Stariin for her money, for his wealth as a

  marquess far exceeded that of an earl. Starlin would become a marchioness, with prestige in the aristocracy, vast holdings, and a strong-willed husband to guide her.

  With a sigh, he rose and fhuffled from the room. Rayne Morgan and Starlin? Who in the bloody hell could reason a woman's mind, and least of all a fiery-tempered one like his granddaughter?

  "I'll not marry Rayne Morgan!" Starlin raved later that morning upon rising and hearing from her grandfather that wedding plans needed to be discussed.

  The earl's voice brooked no denial. "This time, Granddaughter, you left yourself no choice, nor me. You will marry the marquess, and immediately."

  Starlin's eyes widened, and she gripped the back of the dining room chair. She stared at the earl as he sipped at his morning tea. "He . . . told you? . . ."

  "Not exactly. It was rather evident. And he is doing the gentlemanly thing. I admire him for that. He could have easily gone off and left you to the gossip-mongers."

  "Admire him! He took advantage of your grand­daughter, and you have the gall to say such a thing!" she interjected.

  The earl viewed her calmly. "Starlin, I love you more than anything in the world, and if I thought for one minute that Morgan truly took advantage of you I'd call him out myself." He peered hard at her. "But I know that is preposterous, there isn't a man born who could make you do anything that you don't have a mind to. Not even a dashing blade like Morgan. You're far too strong-minded a woman for any chap to seduce you with flowery phrases." He viewed her closely. "If I

  am wrong, tell me, and I will see that Lord Morgan is

  dealt with." -„

  Starlin could see this was one battle she was not going to win. She plopped disspirited into the chair and sighed. "Can't I just go away, I don't have to marry to resolve this mess. The talk will calm down eventually."

  "What if there is a child?'

  "No, there won't be!" she gasped, thinking how foolish she'd been not to think about becoming pregnant before now. "Can't... be ... for don't you see, he doesn't care a fig for me, Grandfather. He is only marrying me because he feels he must. Please, don't ask me to marry a man out of obligation."

  "And what of honor, Starlin? Our family has always prided themselves upon it?" the earl queried gently.

  "I am being bartered for honor's sake," she said bitterly.

  "I believe it is an even exchange on both sides. You both possess noble dignity and position. And, whether either of you is willing to admit it, something drew you two volatile people together. And by the look deep in your eyes, I'd say you've found more than you know."

  Starlin bristled and hurriedly rose to her feet. "Hardly! But I will meet my obligation to our family since I am the one who has brought shame upon it. Yet, no matter what you might think, Morgan and I are ill-matched. He is not the gallant that you think he is. He is scheming, ruthless, and does not know the meaning of the word love."

  The earl smiled faintly. "Whether you'll admit it or not, my dear, he's found the fire beneath the ice. You have always wrapped every other lad around your finger, and you are smarting, I think, because with him you cannot.'1

  Starlin didn't see Rayne Morgan until the following day when he arrived in his carriage and informed her that they were going for a drive through Hyde Park. He checked his elegant timepiece and then replaced it in his brocade waistcoat.

  "It's almost five o'clock. The usual tonnish mob should have congregated by now and I feel that we should be seen together at once." When he glanced over at her and saw that she hadn't paused from her needlepoint and was obviously ignoring hm, he walked over to boldly remove it from her hands and toss it aside. "You might wish to change from your day gown, madame—or—wear what you have on. Either way I don't give a tinker's damn. But you are coming with me."

  She did not see the wicked amusement in his eyes as she had shut hers tightly and was swearing softly. "God's blood, but you are a bully of a man. It's bad enough that you stormed into my life and made a shambles of it, now you have taken to ordering me about—and I have not even consented to marry you."

  "But you will," he stated evenly. "For you know neither of us has a choice." He pulled her up from the chair and into his arms. "I have already put in a request for a special license, and I have no doubt that it will go through. And when it does, you will become my wife."

  "You really mean to see this through until the bitter end, don't you?"

  "Yes, and deep down you are glad of it. After all, what if you are with child."

  A trembling began inside her, and she paled. On impulse, he kissed her, ignoring the gaping servants that passed by. "It is something neither of us con­sidered in the heat of passion, but now we must And honor is the only thing that has guided me all of these years. It means everything to me."

  She studied his serious expression. "And if I am not expecting?"

  "You may then have the marriage annulled if you wish," he replied without hint of distress or a shred of emotion.

  Her words came in only a whisper. "Yes, of course ... for there will never be any love between us ... never."

  "But there is honor, and possibly, our child." Gently he set her from him. "Go on and change, Starlin. All is not as bleak as you imagine."

  A sort of numbness settled within Starlin that saw her through the hectic time preceding her wedding day. She allowed no emotion of any kind to penetrate the hard shell of indifference tha
t surrounded her. In­wardly, when she was alone and could not will her mind to stop thinking, she felt she might go mad. For surely she was not truly going to marry a man without love. She refused to acknowledge, even in her heart, that they had shared anything more than passion.

  Over the next few days, he made certain that they were seen together in all of the right places. One evening, a party in the West End, the next day, a concert at Vauxhall Gardens, and that night, a ball in honor of Queen Victoria.

  And of all the people that they had to literally bump into as they were dancing: the duke and duchess.

  Rayne's ex-mistress, Susan Ellendale.

  The duchess had smiled sweetly over her husband's shoulder. "Why, look who is here, Duke, none other than the earl's little granddaughter and Lord Morgan. Hello there!" she called.

  Just by her honeyed tone, Starlin knew what to expect next. Rayne nodded curtly in their direction, but it wasn't enough to satisfy Susan.

  "Milord, I heard from Lord Courtland that you quite literally stole that darling girl right out from under his nose, and that now wedding bells are surely going to ring," she exclaimed loud enough for those nearby to hear over the orchestra. "You always were the trampler of innocent hearts, weren't you?" She tittered shrilly. Her husband attempted to guide her from the floor, but she refused to follow his lead. He was forced to shuffle about or make a worse scene.

  "Are you speaking from experience,, my dear duchess?" Rayne replied coldly. "Or merely quoting hearsay again?"

  The portly duke grasped his red-faced wife by the arm and directed her toward the club entrance.

  By the end of the week, all of London was buzzing with the news of the devoted lovers and their impending marriage. Close friends dropped by at Eaton Hall to extend their best wishes, and congratula­tory notes from distant acquaintances began arriving daily.

  Yet Starlin could not help feeling like a helpless pawn. One brief night had set a course of events into motion that could not be altered.

  True to his word, Rayne secured a special license that would enable them to marry without a lengthy waiting period. The earl and his staff were finalizing the plans for the ceremony which were to be held in the