Chapter Twenty-one
“Lady Anne?” Emmaline hoped the struggle to keep her voice normal didn’t show. “That sounds like the name of a ship.”
Lansing chuckled. “Being absent from society as you have, I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of the notorious Lady Anne.”
The need to incapacitate this threat was overwhelming. She could do it and claim she’d stumbled upon the body, but her limbs wouldn’t move. Fear paralyzed the notorious Lady Anne for the first time ever.
“She’s a lady pirate,” he said, his expression avid, flushed, as if lady pirates excited him.
Emmaline forced out another laugh. “Now I know you are playing with me, sir. A lady pirate? No such thing could possibly be true.”
“Oh, but it is, Mrs. Sutherland.” And in his eyes she saw the truth. Saw he was putting too many things together and coming to a conclusion that could result in her death, and the death of everyone close to her.
“I can’t stand here and listen to this nonsense.” She pushed past him, but he grabbed her upper arm in a bruising grip.
She froze and narrowed her eyes on him, dropping all artifice and all pretense. “Unhand me. Now.”
His eyes widened, then lowered in consideration. “My father wants to rid the island of piracy and the trouble the pirates bring. I plan to help him in any way I can.”
“That is very noble of you, Mr. Lansing, but I fear you have been misled. How embarrassing to your father if you were to point your finger in the wrong direction.”
“Is there a problem?” Nicholas suddenly appeared behind Lansing, his gaze jumping from Emmaline to Lansing and Lansing’s hand on her arm. Instantly the hand dropped away and Lansing took a step back but his gaze never wavered, never left her face.
Emmaline smoothed her skirts to hide her trembling. “Mr. Lansing was telling me tales of lady pirates and hidden pirate ships. I fear he was trying to frighten me.”
A muscle in Nicholas’s jaw tightened and his eyes turned a frosty blue. “Bad form, my friend, trying to scare the lady.”
A small smile played around Lansing’s mouth. “ ’Twas merely a warning.” He inclined his head to Emmaline. “Mrs. Sutherland, stay safe.”
She nodded back, her lungs screaming in pain from the breath she’d been holding.
Lansing motioned for her and Nicholas to walk ahead of him to the dining room. She took Nicholas’s arm, the muscles tight beneath the fine cloth of his coat. His shoulders were stiff and she could feel the anger coming off him. Lansing followed, providing no opportunity for her to tell Nicholas what transpired.
They settled into their respective seats, Nicholas close to the governor, Emmaline farther down the table. They exchanged glances, but only once because Lansing kept an eye on them.
She tried to take part in the conversations around her, but her mind swirled with plans of weighing anchor and tide schedules. She needed to get word to Phin, but feared Lansing would offer her no opportunity to escape, even to flag down Shamus. She was always prepared to depart with little notice, but this was different. Her ships were not as ready as she would like, and they certainly weren’t outfitted with provisions, since they’d recently been careened.
Dinner lasted hours, but it seemed like days. She died a thousand deaths in those hours, imagining Lansing’s men at her ships before she was able to get to them. Phin and Cook and Clarence could easily fight them off if they came to the house, but she hoped they’d disappear into the surrounding woods instead and make their way to the ships to sail away. She would catch up somehow.
Finally, dinner ended and everyone returned to the ballroom to begin the dancing. The last thing Emmaline wanted to do was dance, but every time she looked up, Lansing was watching her, smirking, a knowing look in his eyes, and she would turn away, her heart pounding and her hands sweating. She was thoroughly and completely trapped.
Nicholas approached with a smile. If she didn’t know him well, she would have thought the smile genuine. But she was aware of the anxiety in his eyes and the brittleness to his expression.
“Care to dance, my love?”
“I—”
“Dance with me,” he whispered through his smile. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”
Her shoulders went back. Of course she wasn’t going to fall apart. “Certainly, my lord.” She took his arm and together they approached the dance floor with dozens of other couples. She was very conscious of the stares she and Nicholas drew.
Unfortunately, the first dance was an English country dance that allowed no moment to speak. Emmaline felt as if she were going to burst with the need to speak to Nicholas, and the need to escape the stifling ball with the prying eyes of Peter Lansing. They twisted and turned, Emmaline watching the steps of the other ladies. Aunt Dorothy had hired a dance instructor when Emmaline was young, but Emmaline had rarely used her lessons. Not many mamas allowed their eligible sons to dance with her. Mostly she stood against the walls and seethed in fury that she’d been dragged to yet another ball.
The dance ended without Emmaline falling on her face or stepping on too many toes.
Nicholas took her arm and directed her off the dance floor. “Stroll with me.” He took her leisurely through the room, strolling as if they had not a care in the world. As if her world were not falling apart and Nicholas had not been accused of piracy. Her heart raced and she had a difficult time breathing.
“Smile,” he said, smiling himself and nodding at people here and there.
“I’m trying.”
“Do not let them know anything is amiss.”
“Nicholas, he’s—”
He squeezed her hand. “Later.” He steered her toward the doors to the balcony and into fresh air.
She breathed deeply as he pulled her into the shadows and down a short flight of steps, his hand firm in hers, comforting.
He slipped down a pathway of pungent flowers and overhanging trees. “This way,” he said, so softly she barely heard.
Soon they were in a small clearing, empty save a statue of a scantily clad handmaiden holding a ewer. In the distance, the soft shush of the waves hit the white beaches. So close. They were so close to escape. Oh, how she longed to be on the water with her ships and crew.
Nicholas gathered her in his arms and she collapsed into him, leaning on his strength and feeling the steady beat of his heart. But she would only allow herself a few moments of comfort before she pushed away and gathered her own strength around her. Now that she was free of the cloying scents of the women’s perfume, the smoky candles and Peter’s constant gaze, she was able to think more clearly.
“He suspects I’m Lady Anne and he also suspects you are involved.”
“Interesting.”
Interesting? Interesting? That’s all he had to say?
“Somehow he discovered my ships in the hidden harbor. I’m sorry you’ve been pulled into this.”
Damn it, she’d tried to warn him. She told him the danger of being near her and he hadn’t listened.
“We need to warn the others,” she said. “We need to prepare to set sail as soon as possible.”
Nicholas blew out a breath and looked off into the distance, but he wasn’t admiring the moon. He walked a few feet away, hands on his hips. She had no problem picturing him standing thus on a ship, watching the stars and setting his next course. He was a man born to the sea as she was a woman born to the sea.
He turned back to her. “Running away will only confirm his suspicions. He’s watching us. He wants us to lead him to the ships and provide proof. We will stay.”
“Stay? We can’t stay.”
He put his hands on her arms, as if he could hold her in place. “Think, Emmaline. You can’t run off like this.”
“He suspects us.”
“I don’t believe so. I think he’s casting lures, hoping to catch a whale. And what happens when he discovers we’re gone? It will confirm everything.”
“And meanwhile we dance as if nothing is
wrong?”
His fingers tightened around her arms, not bruising like Lansing’s had been, but gentle and firm. “I have a plan, but you have to trust me on this.”
Trust.
She looked into those dark eyes, made darker by the shadows drifting across the moon. His hands were warm on her arms, and she found herself wanting to lean into him. She, Lady Anne, a woman who leaned on no one, who led men instead of being led by them. He wanted her trust, had been asking for it for weeks now. Little did he know, and little had she realized, she’d given him her trust long ago. Her trust and her heart.
Finally acknowledging her feelings should have terrified her, but instead relief lightened her shoulders and her soul. Yes, she’d given this man her heart, although he didn’t know it. Keeping the secret to herself was enough for now, and cherishing it in the long lonely months and years ahead would give her scant comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
“I trust you,” she said.
His breath left him in a rush, as if he’d been waiting for those words for an eternity. He pulled her close with a groan, until their bodies touched and he rested his forehead against hers.
“Ah, Emmaline. You do such things to me. Thank you, love.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, a gentle yet tumultuous kiss that nearly shouted his desire for her. She’d never known it could be this way. Is this what her mother had longed for? Is this what her father walked away from?
Nay. No one had the power to walk away from feelings such as these. She clung to him as she’d never allowed herself to cling before. Simply because her heart was engaged did not mean she was less of a woman warrior.
“Remember something for me.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Remember this kiss and remember you said you trust me.”
She looked up at him, bewildered. She shivered in apprehension, suddenly terrified at the serious look in his eyes.
Before she was able to ask what he was about, Nicholas took her hand and led her back down the path and toward the lighted mansion. She looked over her shoulder, longing to leave, the pressure inside her intensifying. They were walking into the enemy’s lair when they should be heading for the open seas. She could much more easily fight there than here.
As they entered the ballroom through the door they had left, the governor appeared at their side. “There you are.” He smiled and Emmaline searched his expression for any artifice, finding none. Peter Lansing was obviously the rotten apple on this family tree.
Nicholas stopped, pulling Emmaline up beside him.
“My wife has been searching for you, Lord Addison. She would like to announce your betrothal, if now is an appropriate time.”
Emmaline looked at Nicholas, waiting for him to apologize and say that now was not an appropriate time, that they had to leave due to some emergency, but Nicholas was smiling and nodding, and the sound rushing through Emmaline’s ears drowned out what he was saying. He truly did intend to stay and dance while her world disintegrated around her. Her knees weakened, but she locked them in place. He had a plan and she said she trusted him. Now was the time to prove her trust.
The governor smiled and slapped Nicholas on the back. “She’ll be delighted,” he said, and wandered off in search of his wife. Across the room, Peter leaned against the wall, a drink in his hand, eyeing them.
Nicholas’s hold on her tightened.
Mrs. Lansing rushed up to them, her eyes alight with excitement. She grabbed Emmaline’s hands as conversations around them halted and everyone turned to look at them. “How exciting.” She practically squealed like a young girl. “And how romantic you chose our house and our ball to get married.”
Emmaline’s head jerked toward Nicholas, who was staring at her with hooded eyes and a somber expression. Married? But … But they were to be betrothed. Not m-married.
“Pardon?” she managed.
Nicholas laughed, pulling Charlotte’s attention from Emmaline. “She’s still a bit shocked. I must admit it is sudden, but Peter planted the idea in my head and I couldn’t let it go. Why wait? Especially when everyone is here to witness the wonderful event.”
Emmaline tried to pull in a much-needed breath, but her lungs were paralyzed.
Making his way toward them, Peter halted midstride, his expression frozen in shock. Nicholas had called his bluff. She had to admit, this definitely diverted Peter’s attention from the ships and Lady Anne, but did he have to take such drastic measures as … as … she couldn’t even form the word in her mind.
She tugged on his arm. “May I speak to you in private? Please.” The please came out more like a hiss.
Nicholas kissed her on the cheek, sending all the ladies to twittering behind their fans. She swore she heard the term “increasing” more than once. Mortified, she prayed the floor would open up and swallow her whole, leaving Nicholas to deal with the mess he’d created.
Wonderful. Now everyone suspected the Widow Sutherland was with child and they were forced to marry.
Peter, finally able to move past his shock, joined his mother, a sly smile on his thin lips. “Did I hear correctly? You are marrying here? Now?”
She turned to Nicholas, awaiting his answer with bated breath, as the rest of the elite population of Barbados was.
Nicholas put her hand on his arm and squeezed her fingers. “Your idea was splendid, Peter. Why wait? Why not a wedding tonight?”
Peter’s gaze went to her, speculative, smoldering with resentment and anger from the realization he’d been the one to push them in this direction.
“Indeed,” he murmured, watching her carefully. “Mrs. Sutherland seems surprised.”
“Overwhelmed,” she managed to say. And surprised and angry. This was beyond acceptable. She couldn’t marry Nicholas Addison. He was … She was … They were unsuited. Their positions unacceptable for matrimony. What would he do once this was all over? Divorce her? Leave her like her father left her mother?
She stiffened and tried to slide her hand off his arm, but he was having none of that. He tightened his hold and shot her a warning look couched in a smile that would melt the heart of any woman in this room. Unfortunately for him, it merely strengthened her resolve.
“Please, darling. I must prepare if we’re to be wed so soon.” She smiled back, a warning in her look he was sure not to miss.
“The governor has already sent for the priest, sweet Emmaline. It won’t be long now.” Trust me, his eyes said. Remember our kiss, his eyes said.
She relaxed a fraction. Of course. This was a ruse. She should have suspected from the beginning. Nicholas would never marry her like this.
Activity at the entrance to the ballroom had people turning around, their whispers of “The priest’s here” ringing through the deafening silence.
“Trust me,” Nicholas whispered in her ear.
She nodded and smiled up at him. He seemed taken aback by her response, but recovered quickly with another warm smile just for her. Oh, how wonderful it would be if this were a true marriage instead of a farce. But those were thoughts for long nights when she was alone. For now she would go along with his plan. And what an ingenious plan it was. Peter Lansing would have to back off now.
The priest stepped up to them, bewildered and looking a little intimidated by the people surrounding him. “This is quite unusual,” he said, his prayer book clutched in his hand.
“We can dispense with the formalities and I will write up a special license after the ceremony.”
The governor practically bounced on his feet.
Special license? She glanced at Nicholas. How was he going to get around that?
The priest opened his book and started reading. Emmaline went to church with Dorothy occasionally, but Dorothy wasn’t devout, so the words held little meaning. She stood beside Nicholas while he spoke his vows. She repeated the words to everyone’s satisfaction and suddenly people were surrounding her, hugging her, wishing her the best. Emmaline suspected Charlotte’s tears were tears of exc
itement that such an unusual event happened in her home.
Nicholas didn’t let go of her hand, refusing to let anyone part them. Servants brought out champagne and passed it around.
“I was saving the champagne for Peter’s wedding but I believe this event calls for it,” the governor said.
“Let the new couple dance,” Charlotte cried out, and Emmaline wondered if the woman was foxed.
The band began playing and Nicholas escorted Emmaline to the middle of the dance floor. They were all alone, save for the hundreds of eyes watching them.
Emmaline smiled up at him and Nicholas smiled back, his look tender and loving. Oh, he was good, all right. He almost had her convinced.
“This was your idea?” she asked, following his lead as he spun her around.
“Mmmm-hmmm.”
“Very nice. A ruse unworthy of a viscount, but I’m impressed.”
His smiled turned down at the corners. “Ruse? There is no ruse.”
She stumbled, but he hid her misstep easily. “What do you mean? Surely we aren’t … We can’t be …”
He pulled her closer. Too close for propriety. “We most certainly are.”
She jerked back, but his strong arm around her wouldn’t let her get far. “The priest was real? We’re truly married?”
“Truly, legally and in the eyes of God.”
She stumbled again. The bright candlelight dimmed. People’s faced blurred. Her mind didn’t, couldn’t, stay focused long enough to comprehend but one thing. “What have you done?” He looked down at her and frowned. “Are you going to faint?”
“Of course not. I’ve never … fainted … Ever …” But she wasn’t so sure this time. The room grew heated. The fine silk of her gown clung to her, making her skin itch. Her breath came too fast.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
Emmaline smiled, or at least hoped she smiled, while inside she died a little more each moment. How could Nicholas do this to her? He knew her feelings on the betrothal. Surely, he must realize she wouldn’t want to actually wed him. What did this do to her plans for revenge? Now that he was her husband, what did it mean for the people who worked her plantation? They relied on her for housing and food.
The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 25
