by Amber Lin
Her father seemed to realize his jeopardy then. His eyes widened. He yanked Bennett closer and stumbled backward, but there was nowhere left to go. His back hit the wall, rattling a jewelry box on the shelf next to them.
Nate took a step forward that seemed to cover half the room. “Were they worth your life, Hargate? Your daughter’s?”
“Now, see here! You have no business touching her. Penniless or not, she’s above you.”
“On that point, we can agree. However, I told you once before to stay away. I let you live the first time as a courtesy to her. I’m not particularly inclined to do it again.”
Chapter Eighteen
Nate felt Juliana move to his side. A sense of illicit pride filled him. The man who’d ruined her was in a stand-off with her own father, and she had chosen the former. She’d chosen Nate.
Hargate was right. He didn’t deserve her.
But by some miracle, she loved him, and she trusted him.
Everything would be all right, after all.
She looked up at Nate, her eyes like moons, imploring. “Don’t shoot him.”
Or not.
Her plea sliced through him like a bayonet. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t a betrayal, because he didn’t deserve her loyalty.
He’d just wanted it so damn much.
“Please, Nate. You’ll go to prison again,” she said, her expression worried. It was a façade, that worry. A reflection of what she felt for her father, her flesh and blood. Not for Nate.
“Why would you care?” he asked her harshly.
Her eyes darkened with what looked like pain. “I care about you,” she whispered. “You know that.”
The part of him that had been tearing down the middle finally split. And he knew he would spare her father’s life. He wouldn’t let Hargate hurt her or Bennett. Wouldn’t let him escape, either. But he would do his best not to kill him.
Beseeching, Hargate spoke to his daughter. “Come with me, Juliana. He won’t shoot you, and I still have the boy. We can take enough from this room alone to live on. We can go to another country. Italy. Jamaica. I don’t care. We can start over.”
Nate’s gut clenched. He was almost afraid to see Juliana’s face. What if she said yes? Even if she refused, he might see that she wanted to go. And how could Nate deny her that? She deserved a fresh start, even if Hargate didn’t.
“No, Father,” she said softly. “You must answer for what you’ve done.”
“You’ll be ruined, too!” Hargate grew frantic, his grip on the pistol slipping. “You’ll be his whore. You’ll—”
That same primitive protectiveness rose up in Nate. “Do not speak to her.”
Hargate’s gaze darted to him. His gaze narrowed. “You. You defiled her. You used her. Do you think she’ll cry over your dead body?”
The older man raised his pistol. Nate whipped up his own to shoot first, but there was a blur as Juliana jumped in front of him.
No! He heard the report of the gun as he swung her out of the way. Too late.
Her father staggered backward, his pistol aimed at a gaping hole in the ceiling. Bennett had leapt onto his back and was clinging there, clawing at him like a wildcat. They spun, off balance, slamming into the wall. A large stone urn on the top shelf wobbled. Nate lunged forward and snatched Bennett away just as the urn crashed down on Hargate’s head.
In the silence, all that could be heard were three panting breaths.
Juliana’s eyes filled with tears. “Is he— Is he…”
Nate checked Hargate’s pulse. “He’s not dead. Though, he won’t feel very well upon waking.”
…
Nate sent Juliana and Bennett upstairs to rest. He ran his thumb over the blunted engraving on the locket he’d found on his desk. Telling himself that his first impulse was to keep it. If he couldn’t keep the woman it belonged to, he could have her necklace. Something to remember her by.
But the shiny objects on his shelves had never satisfied the gnawing need inside him. Only Juliana had done that.
Sinclair arrived fashionably late, as usual. He glanced down at Hargate on the floor. “Bound and gagged? Was that necessary?”
Nate slipped the necklace in his pocket. “He insulted Juliana.”
“Ah.” Adrian crouched beside Hargate’s head.
The man began mumbling behind the cloth, beseeching. He probably saw the cut of Sinclair’s cloth, his obvious high rank, and assumed he would grant asylum. However, despite the diamond pin and impeccable hair, the Duke of Sinclair was brutal—at least, when it came to men who tried to steal from him. There had, unfortunately, been many such men.
Adrian pulled out a knife—elegant, of course. Hargate’s eyes widened and he redoubled his efforts of babbling behind the gag. The duke’s long fingers stroked the blade, close enough to be sliced, but skilled enough to come away clean. A little threat demonstration. He would enjoy that.
“You can leave if you’d like,” Adrian said to Nate. “I’m sure you have things to take care of. Hargate and I will have a little chat.”
Leave? Hargate was finally at Nate’s mercy. Hell, he could kill the man with impunity considering he had broken into Nate’s house. He should be sending Adrian away, not the other way around.
Not so very long ago, this had been Nate’s dream. To ruin the man—his finances, his position in society. And after, Nate had planned a more carnal repayment. He’d wanted to kill the man. That sole thought had kept him warm through the miserable years on that prison hulk and for another decade as he’d built himself up from nothing.
But over the past few weeks, in coming to know Juliana, in learning to love her, he had stopped seeking vengeance. She was more important.
Now, all he felt was disgust for her father.
“Try not to do much damage,” Nate said. “That rug is seventy-five years old.”
“I make no promises.”
Hargate’s urgent protests were muffled. He must have figured out that Adrian was the one to be feared, after all. Nate wondered briefly if Adrian would actually hurt the man. Then he didn’t care. His mind had already turned to the people upstairs.
He longed to speak to Juliana, but he had something to take care of first. Mrs. Wheaton had told him that Bennett was in the spare bedroom, a room he would forever associate with Juliana. In those early days, he’d been fascinated with her—though he hadn’t known who she was. Now that he did know who she was, and how vibrantly she lived and loved, he was thoroughly, permanently ensnared.
He found the boy inside, perched on the edge of the bed.
Bennett’s expression was filled with dread and resignation. He believed the worst was coming, but he still met Nate’s eyes. He started to stand.
“No, stay there.” Nate sat beside him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you want to explain what happened?”
A pause. “Yes, sir. When Mr. Hargate first approached me, he offered me a guinea if I would tell him the shipping route we had used last. It was more money than I had ever had and…and I didn’t trust you yet. I thought you might throw me out at any time, and then at least I’d have a guinea.”
“I see.” Unfortunately, he saw too well. He knew what it was like to be starving and desperate. He knew what it was like to steal a loaf of bread to ease the gnawing pain in your belly. Bennett may have had food and shelter at the time, but they both knew the position of an orphan was tenuous and unprotected.
“He said it was just that one time, but then he came back wanting more. I told him no. I tried to give the money back, too, but he said he’d tell you what I’d done and you’d make me leave for sure.”
“You did more than answer his questions, didn’t you?”
“Then he wanted me to get papers for him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t refuse. I never wanted you to find out.”
Nate sighed. It hurt to know Bennett had been stealing information from him, but the wicked games played by the so-c
alled gentle class were no match for him. Hargate had used the child and discarded him.
Bennett stood up. His chest puffed out in what looked more like protection than pride. “Sir, if you wish me to leave, I will do so. If you prefer to alert the authorities, or if you have some other punishment in mind…I would bear it without complaint.”
“I’m not going to beat you.” Jesus, he had to work on his reputation. And for once that didn’t mean being more intimidating. “I’m not going to make you leave, either.”
Bennett stared at him, wide-eyed.
Nate softened. “Everyone makes mistakes, Bennett. Lord knows I’ve made my share. But you also protected Juliana when it counted, and for that I owe you.” He would never forget the abject terror of seeing Juliana jump in front of him, of hearing the blast of the gun. Of thinking she had been killed. Yes, he owed Bennett for that, and the requisite currency was forgiveness. “Whatever happens, you won’t have to leave.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Bennett asked cautiously.
Actually, he planned to ask Juliana for her advice. If she was still speaking to him. “I haven’t decided that yet. It will take time to rebuild the trust between us—and that goes both ways. But we’ll figure it out together.”
Chapter Nineteen
Juliana hid upstairs while the guard came and took her father away. She couldn’t face what had become of him. Or perhaps he always been this way, unflinchingly cruel and morally bankrupt, and she’d simply been blind to it? All she remembered was the small gifts he’d have tucked in his pockets for her, and his belly laugh when she told one of her stories. He may have been a good father.
But he wasn’t a good person.
A knock came at the door. She did not move from her seat at the window. The drops of rain were somehow a comfort. This much, at least, was the same. Her fortunes had fallen, her hopes had been crushed, but raindrops still formed little patterns as they meandered down a pane of glass. The world continued to thrive and pulse and live, even if it felt like she never would.
Nate stepped inside the room. She felt him more than saw him.
“Are you sure you’re unharmed?” he asked.
He’d already asked her that before, and had run his hands down her arms and legs to confirm the bullet hadn’t pierced her flesh. He’d even sent Dr. Richards up in the interim, but she had refused to see him. “I’m sure.”
He came to stand beside her, and then there were two of them, both staring at an opaque grey window, unable to see past it. That was how she felt about him—blind and blocked in. How much of what he’d told her had been a lie? Had any of it been the truth?
And maybe the most pressing question of all—did it even matter? He was again a stranger to her. And she certainly owed him no allegiance, despite whatever mercy he’d shown her father this night. The love she’d felt for him seemed like a dream, hazy around the edges now that she’d woken up.
“Juliana,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t shut me out.”
She smiled slightly, though she found nothing humorous in the situation. “Out of what?”
“Out of your heart,” he said, and that very organ skipped a beat inside her. Even though it should feel nothing. It should lie still and dormant after the thrashing it had taken today. It shouldn’t be able to hurt anymore.
But it did, and that made her angry. How dare he? How dare all of them? “You are not in a position to make demands of me, pirate.”
His expression was sober. “You’re right. I can only beg your forgiveness.”
“Why?”
“For lying to you. For using you to punish your father. For treating you cruelly.”
“Well, thank you for that,” she said dryly. “I meant, for what reason? Why does it matter to you whether I forgive you or not?”
“Because I love you, Juliana. With every wretched bone of my body, with every wicked thought in my head. With whatever this pirate’s heart is worth, I love you.”
Her throat felt unbearably tight. His declaration was more heartfelt and generous than she’d ever anticipated. Not from him, nor from any highbrow suitor in her previous life. Her arms ached to throw themselves around him. Her legs too. Her lips wanted to kiss him. She wanted to accept all he offered her, and give back more, more, but…she could not.
“How can I trust you?” she whispered. “My father—”
“I am not Stephen Hargate.”
She smiled sadly. “No, but you made your best attempt. Wasn’t that the point? To repay him in the same manner he did to you? An eye for an eye. Ruin for ruin.”
Nate shut his eyes, looking pained. “At first, you weren’t any part of it. I only sought to ruin him financially. Socially.”
“And his daughter be damned.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “I didn’t care who was hurt in the process. I didn’t want to know.”
“So you framed him?”
“No. Maybe it doesn’t make a difference to you. I’d understand if you still hated me. But I need you to understand. He committed the frauds he was accused of. All I did was encourage an investigation.”
“By encourage, you mean bribe.”
“It’s how things get done.” He held her gaze, daring her to denounce him.
“How did you know he was stealing from his company?”
Nate shrugged. “Once a dishonest man…”
“Always a dishonest man,” she finished grimly.
He nodded. “I am sorry.”
“Why would you care? You despise him, and with good reason.”
“Because I care about you,” he murmured, echoing her words in the study below just hours earlier.
She wished she could believe him. In fact, she feared she already did. Deep in her heart, in the part of her that moved by instinct and acted on love alone, she already belonged to him. But that didn’t mean she was safe. Any position in London, even as mistress to some other man, might be safer than with him, this man who made her believe too much.
He made her hurt too much.
“I have never been a man of honor,” he said. “Your father was right about that. I only wanted to have things, more and more things, to fill my ship and my shelves. But I don’t want to have you, not like that. Not own you.”
“What do you want, then?”
He searched her eyes. “I want you to choose me.”
But what choice would she truly have?
All the love she felt for him, all the desperate hope. Versus the cold uncertainty of a hostile city.
“It is a devil’s bargain you offer me.”
“Not this time.” He held out his hand and unfurled it. Her locket sat in the middle of his palm.
She stared at the pendant as if it were a poisonous snake. Why did she feel nervous about taking what was rightfully hers? Perhaps because it felt like a farewell.
“What happens then?” she asked.
“Tomorrow, news will break that your father has been apprehended. Additionally, his solicitor will discover money in trust to you, which will be untouchable by the authorities in relation to your father’s debts. You will be independently wealthy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “My father doesn’t have any money.”
“Not exactly true. He has several foreign accounts where he’s been secreting his profits.”
She felt stunned, as if something had landed in her chest. Like a knife. “God. He said there was nothing. He left me to starve.”
Nate’s eyes burned with anger, but his voice was surprisingly gentle. “I’m sorry.”
It was too much. “Stop apologizing for him.”
“I’m not. I’m apologizing for you. I never want to see you in pain.” His voice was hoarse. “If you would allow me, I would support and protect you for the rest of your life.”
“Is that what this trust is for? Payment for services rendered? Another one of your bribes?” She used the words like a knife, meant to cut him—but the blade went both ways. She was cut, too, thinking o
f exactly what services she had rendered him. Services that hadn’t felt at all businesslike at the time. She’d given of her body, her soul, her heart, and he was offering her a damned pension.
“No,” he said urgently, impatiently. “The trust is your father’s money, not mine.”
“Money he stole. Money which should rightly go back to the company and its new owners. You think I don’t know I would never see a shilling if you hadn’t intervened on my behalf? As I said, payment for—”
“For my own damned undoing. Can’t you see? You are free of me now. Do you think I want to give you a way out? Do you think I want to let you go? But this is the only way I can be sure. When you come back to me, if you come back to me, you’ll be truly mine.”
She softened. Just slightly, but it was enough, like a crack in the ice. “And you are willing to take that chance? To wait for a reunion which may never happen?”
He nodded, then seemed to withdraw. “But before you go, there is something else I must tell you. So you know the whole truth.”
At last. “Oh?”
“I am not only a ship’s captain. I am also a partner in the investment firm.”
She didn’t know whether to be glad for the confession, or angry at the deception. And yet, he had never actually lied to her. She had just never asked the right questions. “I was the fool who assumed otherwise when I first saw you in the shipping office.”
“Not a fool. Just…trusting. It’s true I once saw that as a weakness, but no longer. I need more of that in my life—trust.”
For a moment, bitterness twisted her insides. “I trusted that the documents in those files would redeem my father, but they wouldn’t, would they?”
He looked at her grimly. Part of her had probably known the truth on that night, but she had refused to believe it. Trusting. Foolish. A little bit of both. The question became, then, where to go from here. Her father had betrayed her, proving that all the gifts and attention would not matter when love was absent.
Was Nate the same way, wooing her with trust funds and empty promises? The concern in his eyes was more appealing than money ever could be.
He was a scoundrel, in most senses of the word. And proud of it, most of the time. Of all the men to put her trust in, she had fallen for one that was by all accounts a rogue, a threat. Someone who eschewed respectability whenever possible. A pirate in a captain’s coat. Was she a fool for believing in him?
