Cassandra turned and looked at him. ‘An aversion? No. Why on earth should I? It’s no fault of yours if my cousin has no desire for me to remain here with him.’
‘I understand that you were brought up by your cousin.’
‘I was brought up by my aunt and uncle—John’s parents. They both died when I was a child. Since that time John has been my lawful guardian.’
‘And were you close to your aunt and uncle?’
A look of desolation entered Cassandra’s eyes as she reluctantly retreated back into her past. ‘No. Quite the opposite, in fact. My uncle was a hard man and paid me scant attention—but my aunt…I hated her,’ she said quietly, her voice quivering with deep emotion. ‘Her dislike of me was intense and she made my life intolerable. During the years of the Civil War our families were divided in their loyalties to King and country, which did not help my case.
‘However, without my parents, there was no one else to take care of me. My cousins John and Meredith were the two people who sustained me. My determination to survive my aunt’s oppression during the early years of my life taught me to be my own person—which has always been my greatest strength. And, as you see, Captain Marston,’ she said with a cynical smile, ‘my spirit remains uncrushed.’
Her simple, toneless voice, giving him without emphasis a brief insight into her past, of how she must have suffered pain and humiliation at the hands of her aunt and uncle, wrung Stuart’s heart with pity, and the look in her eyes told him much more than any words she could have uttered.
‘Your cousin tells me your father was killed at Worcester fighting for the King—and that your mother died when you were born. It cannot have been easy growing up without knowing either of your parents.’
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed warily as she gave him a level stare. So, she thought, that was what John had told him, what he wanted him to think, for, apart from a few gossiping, speculative neighbours in Chelsea, himself and Meredith, Rosa and the crew of the Dolphin, no one knew she was the daughter of the infamous pirate Captain Nathaniel Wylde.
John was deeply ashamed that he bore any connection to such a man and was constantly reminding her that, for her own sake, on no account must she reveal the identity of her father. Her heart twisted with pain, for much as she would like to speak of him, she knew it was in her best interests that the part of her life she had shared so briefly with him must remain locked in her heart for ever.
‘No—no, it wasn’t,’ she replied in answer to Stuart’s question. She smiled suddenly when a soft breeze blew the folds of her skirt. ‘My aunt and uncle were Puritans and fanatically dedicated to God. Their religion dominated every waking moment of our lives. If they knew what I had done—coming to Barbados without telling anyone, to live on a Caribbean island and surrounded by slaves—without doubt my sin would be great indeed and I would be severely chastised.’ She grinned wryly. ‘I think she might have a few choice words to say to John, too, concerning his relationship with Elmina.’
Stuart frowned curiously. ‘Elmina?’
‘The mulatto woman who served us at dinner. She is my cousin’s housekeeper—and I strongly suspect she is also his mistress and the reason why he is so reluctant to return to England. The looks that have passed between them all evening cannot have escaped you. You must have noticed.’ She smiled.
‘I have to confess I did not,’ he murmured softly, his voice suddenly grown deep and husky and his eyes focusing on her lips. Her revelation dispelled his suspicion that she might be in love with her cousin, and he with her. ‘My eyes were more favourably employed.’
Cassandra felt the impact of his gaze and caught her breath, flushing softly, understanding the meaning of his words and flattered by them. ‘John has not admitted their relationship as such. I’m sure he would consider it too delicate a matter to discuss with me.’
‘Nevertheless, you do not appear to be unduly disturbed by the closeness that exists between your cousin and his servant, which I consider strange. Most young ladies of my acquaintance would be scandalised by such a relationship.’
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed and she glanced at him sharply, her cheeks flaming suddenly, for she was stung by the irony and what she considered to be an underlying note of reproof in his voice. For the first time a constraint had come between them. ‘Then the young ladies you speak of must be exceedingly dull company, Captain Marston, who no doubt spend their time talking of tedious matters like the state of their health and the clothes they wear. I am not like that.’
‘It wasn’t a reproach, but I am beginning to realise you are quite uninhibited.’
‘That is a natural characteristic of mine. Perhaps I should not have silenced my cousin when he was giving such a vivid account of my character, for then I think you would know me a little better.’
‘So there is some truth in his description of you,’ Stuart remarked, stifling a grin at the complete absence of contrition on her lovely, upturned face and jutting chin. ‘You are a stubborn and disobedient woman, whose whims must be humoured at all cost.’
Her unabashed gaze locked on his. ‘Yes—all of it. And if I had allowed him to continue you would have learnt that some of my pastimes are considered by our neighbours in Chelsea to be quite shocking.’
‘I would?’
‘Yes. John is forever rescuing me from one escapade or another. I hunt, I fish, I wear breeches like a man and ride about the countryside at home like a gypsy—which drives my cousin Meredith to distraction. I also speak my mind, for since my aunt and uncle died I no longer feel I have to curb my tongue. I do not feel the need to apologise and nor am I ashamed of what I am or what I do, so if this does not meet with your approval, then it is just too bad.’
Stuart cocked a sleek black brow, a merry twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘I do believe you are trying to shock me, Cassandra,’ he said calmly. ‘But there is nothing about your character that I do not already know.’
‘You can read my mind?’
‘You might say that. I am beginning to feel heartily sorry for your cousin. You appear to be quite a handful.’ He chuckled. ‘There’s little wonder if he is eager to have you off his hands, for you to wed.’
Cassandra glanced across at him. His face was in shadow, but she could see that he was smiling. His eyes glowed and he looked at her appreciatively as he continued to lounge with careless ease against the balustrade, his arms folded across his chest. He was all lean hard muscle and for a moment she forgot her outburst and wondered what it would be like to love and to be loved by such a man.
He was strong, his manner one of complete assurance—and a cynical humour twinkled in his black eyes. There was also a dangerous, cool recklessness about him and a distinct air of adventure—a trait that so reminded her of her father. They might have been cast in the same mould except that Stuart Marston would despise her father’s chosen, unlawful way of life.
‘Aren’t you shocked by my unseemly behaviour, Captain Marston?’ She met his eyes and saw they were teasing and suddenly he laughed outright, a deep, rich sound, and she relaxed.
‘Not in the least—and I asked you to call me Stuart. It is part of your make-up that attracts me to you, and you know it. And I do not believe I am mistaken when I say the attraction is mutual.’
Cassandra turned her face away from his close scrutiny. There was an unfamiliar look in his eyes that turned her into a woman she no longer recognised. She was weakened by it and did not understand what was happening to her—the result being total confusion.
‘I—I really don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh, I think you do, so do not be coy with me. Tell me, what is your opinion of me?’
‘This is our second meeting—which is hardly time for me have formed an opinion of you,’ she answered primly.
‘But each has been no ordinary encounter. I think you have formed a very strong opinion of me, and for my part I find you an immense challenge. You intrigue me. So, tell me, how would you feel about agreeing to become my wi
fe?’
Cassandra stared at him in a kind of disorientated, bewildered state. Their gazes held, the silence punctuated by the persistent call of a night bird.
Stuart’s eyes smiled, but his voice was quiet, seductive. ‘I can see I have rendered you speechless.’
She spoke, but her voice was a strangled whisper. ‘Sir—you—you jest.’
‘I would not jest on so serious a matter to me.’
He was smiling, a mocking smile, calmly watching her from beneath his lowered lids, but Cassandra sensed he was alert and that an unfettered power struggled beneath his calm. His tone was perfectly natural, as if he were merely asking her to take a stroll around the garden with him, but its very ordinariness caused a feeling of panic and the mystery of the unknown to flow through her.
Without logic or reason she was drawn to Stuart Marston as to no other and she experienced a moment of terror when she was with him, for the sheer magnitude of her feelings threatened to overwhelm her. She felt weak, vulnerable, suddenly—at his mercy and standing on the threshold of something new. He was essentially worldly, emanating raw power that was an irresistible attraction to any woman. She was stimulated by him, he excited her, and he exuded an element of danger that added to the excitement.
But this was not just another adventure and if she entered into any kind of commitment with him then there would be no escape. He had asked her to be his wife, and in this she wanted to follow her heart, no matter how impossible that might be. But she could not.
‘If you are seriously interested in acquiring a wife, will any woman do?’ she asked, knowing the words sounded flippant, but thinking it wise to keep their interchange as light hearted as possible.
‘No. Only the woman I have a yearning for.’ His eyes captured hers and held them prisoner. He went on speaking with slow deliberation. ‘My experience cannot truthfully be termed lacking, yet you far exceed any woman I can call to mind. In the past I have sailed the seas and seen many ports—often confined to the ship for long periods while under sail. Of late other matters have commanded my attention, and until now I have failed to meet a woman worthy to be considered.’
‘There are things about me you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t want to marry me.’
He laughed, thinking she was referring to nothing more serious than past childish escapades. ‘I’m willing to take that chance.’
‘Maybe, but I am not. It’s impossible.’
‘Impossible? Why do you say that?’
‘I—I cannot tell you. Please don’t ask.’
In her eyes Stuart thought he glimpsed a pain, a memory, she was fighting to suppress. ‘Whatever it is, it makes no difference.’
‘Yes, it does. Did you really expect me to say yes to your wild proposal?’
‘Not wild. I’ve thought about it, and I had hopes of your acceptance.’
‘But—you do not know me. We are mere strangers who met by chance. Forgive me if I seem somewhat astonished—but naturally I am confused by your offer made on so short an acquaintance.’
His voice was seductive, persuasive, and in the moonlight his eyes gleamed darkly. ‘I don’t believe our lives are ruled by chance. When I plucked you from the boat in Bridgetown Bay, I figured I must have done so for a reason. Maybe I’ll discover the nature of that reason given time. When I see something I want I act on it immediately—and I want you, Cassandra Everson. My opinion of you was decided from the start—and I always believe in first impressions.’ He was calm, his manner easy as he continued to watch her closely with a steady gaze.
His dark, compelling eyes held hers attentively, an inner passion glowing in their sombre depths. ‘You are beautiful, exciting and mysterious, and you possess a natural independence of spirit and single-mindedness that I admire. Your eyes are as blue as the Caribbean Sea, and as compelling. No woman has affected me so profoundly.’
Cassandra laughed aside his flattering remarks, and the glint in his eye was proof that he had more than praise on his mind. A traitorous part of her responded to the intensity of his gaze and the warm caress of his voice. ‘That is nonsense, sir—but a pretty speech none the less.’
‘I’m not one for pretty speeches, Cassandra. Think of the pleasure we will have getting to know one another—endless weeks on board the Sea Hawk. It could be quite enjoyable. I do not think either of us will be disappointed.’
‘You are very bold, Stuart Marston.’
‘I’m no saint, that I freely admit. I told you, when I want something I’m persistent, and I do not intend letting you escape me.’
‘Escape? Are you saying that I am your prisoner?’
‘No.’ His lips quirked. ‘But I believe I am fast becoming yours.’
She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
His white teeth gleamed behind a devilishly wicked grin. ‘You are a cruel woman, Cassandra Everson.’
‘I don’t mean to be, but I have to wonder at your motives for wanting to marry me. You know I have no dowry. I am penniless.’
‘That matters little to me. I have more than enough money for both of us. Before I left England my mother made me realise that it is time I married—if only to satisfy her demands for a grandson and heir. I know she would be delighted with my choice—if you accept my proposal of marriage, that is.’
He was standing very close. Cassandra could smell his skin and feel his presence. Like a magnet it was drawing her to him, and she took a step back before the will to resist failed her. She saw the anticipation in his dark eyes as he watched her, waiting for her answer to his question that would affect both their lives. She sensed there were two contradictory sides to his character, that there was so much that remained hidden behind his dark gaze.
But whatever mysteries might lie beneath the surface of this strange man, she could not marry him. In fact, with cold clarity she was beginning to realise that she would have to think very dispassionately before she entered into marriage with any man. There was the complication of her identity and the personal notoriety that went with it. John had told Stuart that her father had been killed at Worcester, but what if by some quirk of fate he discovered that was a lie, and that her father had belonged to that breed of men he so despised?
Apart from his own kind, there wasn’t a man or woman alive who would knowingly claim friendship with Nathaniel Wylde’s daughter. How would a man like Stuart Marston feel when he discovered that same woman was his wife? He would be appalled and outraged and harden his heart against her, and rightly so. He would hate her for being who she was, for lying to him, for deceiving him, and she could not bear that.
‘You are obviously a man who has been accustomed to having his own way in most things, I can see that, and adept in getting it—but I meant what I said. I won’t marry you. I’m sorry.’
Stuart’s eyes searched hers, but their dark depths were deliberately shuttered. For a long moment his gaze lingered on the elegant perfection of her face, and then he murmured, ‘So am I, but it does not end here. I have a yen for you, Cassandra Everson. I will not give you up, and I am confident of a flawless success. I shall begin my persuasion tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘I am to spend the night here in the bungalow, and your cousin has invited me to ride with you in the morning. I accepted.’
The thread of confidence in his tone and his calm dismissal of her refusal to marry him stirred Cassandra’s resentment. ‘I see. Is it your intention to make me one of your conquests?’
Her chilled contempt met Stuart face on. He moved closer and towered above her. ‘Conquest? You mistake me, Cassandra. I do not ask that you yield to me—nor do I desire to conquer you. The moments that are cherished and treasured are the moments that are shared, not taken. I want you to be my wife—my partner in all things.’
It took all Cassandra’s will power not to give in to the persuasion of his words. ‘It changes nothing between us. I cannot marry you—ever.’
Stuart considered her for a moment. ‘Then
be wary, Cassandra, for I shall win you, by fair means—’
‘Or foul.’
A slow smile spread over his features. ‘Whatever. Indeed, I can be steadfastly persistent in what I want, and never waver from my purpose. I won’t be satisfied until it’s done.’
Chapter Five
Lingering on the verandah staring into the dark, Stuart’s jaw was hardened with resolve. Just why he wanted Cassandra so passionately was something that confounded him. He told himself that he couldn’t bear to think of her belonging to anyone else. But it was more than that. She was in his blood.
Dear God, what was the matter with him? He was thirty years old and had known and made love to more women than he could possibly remember, and yet here he was, mooning over a child woman like a callow youth. There was only one remedy to win her in so short a time, and normally it was one he would not hesitate in taking—he would relish it, in fact—but he could not in all decency seduce the delectable Cassandra Everson, even though he was very good at seduction and an accomplished lover.
Or could he? His eyes narrowed and after a moment’s careful thought he decided that, yes, he could.
Looking forward to her ride, Cassandra rose at sun up. She was apprehensive at meeting Stuart again, and was relieved when Julia said she would accompany them. Thankfully Rosa was feeling better, but not well enough to join them on their ride. John and Stuart were waiting for them in front of the house with the horses, and, on meeting Stuart’s open appraisal, she was glad she had groomed herself carefully and wore her best attire of scarlet silk.
‘How becoming you look this morning, Cassandra,’ he remarked smoothly as she settled herself into the sidesaddle. ‘I can see I am in for an extremely pleasurable ride.’
Cassandra did not miss the meaningful sparkle in his eyes. She had intended to treat him with cool formality, but his grin was so boyishly disarming that she smiled. ‘I’m sure it will be. I believe the countryside north of St George is worth seeing.’
John introduced Stuart to Julia, who looked as cool and elegant as ever, no matter how hot the temperature. Her eyes swept over the handsome sea captain appreciatively. Riding beside Cassandra, she smiled surreptitiously across at her and winked. ‘He’s wondrously handsome, my dear, in a dark, frightening sort of way. There’s also something dangerous about him, too,’ she added, ‘that puts me in mind of a buccaneer. Don’t you think so?’
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