“I cannot move him lest it worsen his condition. You must come to the ship with me. I swear to you that you will be safe in my protection, and as soon as Thomas no longer needs your care, you will be returned to shore.” His fingers tightened over hers. “Would you have me beg?”
“I find it difficult to imagine the great Captain Grey begging for anything,” she said softly, still hesitant to acquiesce.
He did not flinch, keeping their fingers linked, and everywhere his skin touched hers, she burned. “For my brother’s life, I would do anything.”
Could she do this? Did she dare trust him? Was the potential to save one life worth risking her own? Her mind flitted over the possibilities, weighing her decision. “I know not what to say.”
“Say yes,” he urged, his eyes fierce and unrelenting.
She could not look away or deny him. For the first time in her life, Lizzie Winstead did something reckless. “I will help you,” she blurted.
“Thank you.” He released her hands and relief washed over his chiseled features, unfettered, along with another emotion that she couldn’t quite define. “Thank you, Lizzie.”
And then in the next instant, he cupped her face, his lips settling over hers, warm and smooth and familiar, and it was what she had wanted, what she had longed for without realizing it, only sweeter, less punishing and possessing. But just when she reached for him, it was over before it had truly begun. She found herself blinking up at him as if she had just been roused from a deep sleep. He looked down at her with an equal amount of befuddlement.
They still stood in uncomfortable proximity, and Lizzie was all too aware of the lateness of the hour, the fact that they were alone, and the limited amount of garments she wore. The burning that had begun in her palms swept through her body, settling in her core with a deep, steady thrum of longing.
She ignored it, taking a step away from him and concentrating instead on the only thing that mattered. Her patient. “Your brother remains aboard the ship now?”
“It was too risky to leave it in port given our notoriety. I ordered the crew back out to sea with plans to return for me at dawn.” He raised a brow. “I thought I may have the devil of a time convincing your father to sail aboard a pirate ship with me.”
“You want me to sail with you?” She had foolishly assumed she would tend to Thomas while the boat was anchored.
“It’s necessary, I’m afraid. I can’t move Thomas without doing him further harm or without making my presence here known. You’ll sail with us to Maine and I’ll return you on our trip south.”
She was to sail on a pirate ship. Lizzie had never gone on a voyage other than her journey from England to the Colonies. She knew nothing of what to expect. The prospect seemed dangerous and imprudent for a gentlewoman accustomed to a life of ease and elegance at her father’s comfortable house. But it also seemed oddly appealing.
She did not wish to consider the reason for that. No, she would not.
Lizzie cleared her throat. “I should prepare for the journey, then.” Aside from medical supplies, she would need to pack some dresses, perhaps a book. “Would you like to rest? Dawn is many hours away.”
He sighed, the fight seemingly drained from him. “I’d appreciate a warm bed.”
“I shall have Judith get you settled then, and I’ll make certain I have everything I need.”
Chapter Two
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. In the quiet of the chamber he’d been escorted to, Edmond looked out the window into the black night. Only the sound of rain pounding the slate roof could be heard. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the privacy of a real home. He’d sailed the world, touching land when he needed to hide, sell his spoils, or restore his supplies. In the process, he’d made a number of friends in the Colonies, and more than a few enemies who couldn’t be bought.
Edmond slammed his fist into the casement, berating himself for what he’d done. She was not his, he had to remind his baser self. He had no right to want her. He had no right to be in her home with an ache in his breeches. Damn his blood, he shouldn’t have touched her.
But it was there, pulsing and demanding, the pull he’d always felt for her compounded by years and a man’s unslaked hunger. He’d had his share of women and none had ever compared. He’d never forgotten Lizzie Crawley. Of course, he supposed he shouldn’t think of her as the innocent girl he’d abandoned any longer. What had the servant called her?
Mrs. Winstead.
His Lizzie had become another man’s wife. Edmond had no justification for experiencing the acute stab of jealousy aching in his gut, but he felt it just the same. He’d given her freedom, left her to make her own happiness as he’d tried to forge his. But piracy hadn’t made him happy, only wealthy. And it had proven a fickle mistress, ready to take away as swiftly as she gave.
If Thomas died, he’d never forgive himself. Although he’d long ago cast the die for a life of sin, he’d been praying ever since catching sight of Thomas bleeding on the deck. Fortunately, word traveled well amongst the settlers and he’d known for some time that Dr. Crawley had come to Philadelphia. It had been a desperate last chance.
When he’d decided to seek out Lizzie’s father, he hadn’t thought to find her there. He had expected she still lived an ocean away in London. Instead, his intrepid girl had followed her father to the new world. Perhaps she wasn’t so different from him, he thought wryly. Perhaps she too had been struck by the hunger for travel and adventure.
But it wouldn’t do to linger on thoughts of her. She was not his, never had been. He’d given up any claim on her the day he’d told her goodbye. Damn it, the urge to run was strong. She was the last woman in the world in whose company he could be trusted. He wanted her with a ferocity that shook him.
What a true bastard he was, he thought grimly. His brother was near death and here he stood, thinking with his cock. Disgusted, he shucked off his shirt and began pacing the room, willing his thoughts to more important matters. He could not afford to put either Lizzie or Thomas in jeopardy with his actions. And though he knew it well, he still wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any other woman, damn his hide to hell.
Lizzie hesitated outside the closed chamber door. She reminded herself she was being a good hostess, making certain Edmond had been well taken care of by Judith. She’d told Judith and Jeremiah that a family member had taken ill and she was needed, that she had to travel and would return soon. To her father, she confided the truth in a letter she sealed and placed in his office. She had also gathered the medical instruments and tinctures she’d need to attend Thomas, along with a few serviceable mantuas and petticoats. It was time for sleep, but she didn’t think she could.
Before she lost her courage, she knocked on his door. “Edmond? It’s Lizzie.”
It was unspeakably familiar of her to be calling him by his first name and knocking on his chamber door. But this is Edmond, her heart reminded her. Between her decision to accompany him and this moment, her barriers had seemingly diminished, leaving her vulnerable, transfixed by a delicious longing for the forbidden.
No. She must not allow herself to weaken. She was acting out of the need to help save a life alone, and not because of the feelings that had never faded for a man she did not dare trust. Lizzie was about to spin on her heel and flee to the safety of her chamber when that low, rough voice rumbled through the night and landed somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.
“Enter.”
One word, that was all he said, and yet it affected her. He affected her. And how could he not when she opened the door to discover him naked from the waist up, his masculine body perfectly delineated in the candlelight? His chest was broad and defined, dusted with dark hair that trailed down his muscled stomach and disappeared below his breeches. His hat was gone, revealing a head of dark hair held in a queue at his nape. Strong thighs were evident beneath the tight breeches, along with the tempting outline of a part of his anatomy she ought not to notice.
Her mouth went dry and she forced her gaze to roam back up to the safety of his face before she found her voice. “D-do you require anything else before I retire?”
His gaze glittered into hers, and an unwanted, answering pang of need skated through her. “Come inside and close the door,” he ordered in such a commanding tone that she obeyed.
Unnerved by his state of undress and his request both, she lingered at the door. “Do you find the chamber to your liking?”
“Of course.” He took a step in her direction.
Her breath hitched. Why had she sought him out? Why did she stand here now, tempting the devil himself? Go, her mind screamed. Flee before it is too late.
But she was trapped in the twin spells of his dark eyes and powerful body. “Is there something you require?” she asked again, trying not to allow her eyes to settle on his full mouth as if she wanted another kiss. Hopeless. She could not help but look and admire.
“There is indeed, Lizzie.” In another bare-footed step, he was close enough to touch. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her into his hard frame. “You.”
A strong pulse of desire radiated through her before she could quell it. Was this the pirate in him, thinking he could simply claim what he wanted and enjoy her as he wished? Her hands flitted to his shoulders, finding them rigid and broad, his skin hot and silken beneath her bare fingers. Though she did not push him away, she stiffened in his arms.
She would not fall prey to him. He is a criminal, she reminded herself. The boy you once knew is gone. And the man in his place was far too dangerous, far too alluring, far too everything that was sinful and wrong.
Lizzie tipped her head back in defiance. “I’m not a prize ship to be conquered.”
A slow smile curved his lips, drawing her gaze to his mouth, making her think of the fleeting kiss he had given her earlier. “You’re far too beautiful to be a ship, Lizzie.”
“Flattery will not win me.” She could not disguise her breathlessness, and it vexed her. It irked her even more that he seemed so composed, that he could reappear in the midst of a spring rainstorm as if he had never been gone from her life, and imagine she was his for the taking. Worst of all, that her traitorous body and heart wanted to be his.
He leaned into her, his warm breath skimming over her mouth in a parody of a kiss, and yet he made no other move. “What will?”
“Nothing.” She wrenched herself from his grasp, hating herself for the weakness she had for him. For loving the boy she’d once known and wanting to forgive the man she didn’t know his sins. For being tempted to remain where she was and allow him to do whatever he wished to her. She straightened her shoulders and took a breath, her gaze never faltering from his. “If there is nothing else you require, I shall bid you good evening.”
Before he could respond or attempt to touch her again, she turned and fled from the room. She could not afford to become entangled with Captain Edmond Grey any more than she already was. Lizzie slipped into the hall, the soft sound of his laughter mocking her as she went.
Chapter Three
By the time the sun began its morning ascent, Lizzie found herself sailing away from Philadelphia and her quiet life of widowhood. Edmond didn’t introduce her to the sun-bronzed men, a hard scrabble, unkempt lot of Frenchmen and Englishmen. Instead he took her directly to the small cabin where his brother lay at the mercy of his wounds.
The lower ship smelled of moisture and brine. It was surprisingly spacious below decks and not so different from the passenger ship she’d sailed upon from England, other than its smaller size. Unless she mistook her guess, the ship had once belonged to a wealthy merchant, until the merchant had the misfortune to run across the Scourge of the Atlantic, of course.
A rather dangerous-looking sailor watched over Thomas. He stood as she and Edmond entered, whipping a cap from his head. Under ordinary circumstances, Lizzie would have easily mistaken him for a criminal. Then again, she reminded herself that pirates were indeed criminals, merely criminals of the seas rather than the road.
Edmond wore a grim expression as he gestured to Lizzie. “Jean, this is Mrs. Winstead. She’s kindly agreed to tend to Thomas for us. Mrs. Winstead, this is Jean, my first mate.”
“Beg pardon, Captain,” Jean began with an obvious French accent, “but a woman?”
His response did not surprise her. Most men were dubious of a learned woman. “I’ve trained with my father, who is a well-known physician throughout England and the Colonies. I understand your hesitation, but I can promise you I shall do my utmost to care for Thomas.”
“Mrs. Winstead is to be treated to a level of respect higher than even myself,” Edmond ordered. “Please convey this to the rest of the men.”
She fancied it was almost unheard of for a genteel lady to be present on a pirate ship. Perhaps just as unheard of as a woman who would dare to seek an education for herself. Lizzie wanted to make it clear she was no fainting miss. She could hold her ground against this lot of toughened men.
“I’ll earn their respect with my actions,” she said with a confidence she didn’t completely feel. After all, she knew too well no matter how much knowledge one possessed, miracles happened rarely. And her patient was in a bad way.
Her mind turned to the task before her. She crossed the cabin and knelt at Thomas’ bedside, heedless of the damage it did to her skirts. The poor lighting rendered it difficult to perform a proper examination.
She glanced up. “Captain, bring the lamp closer, please?”
He did as she asked, joining her wordlessly by Thomas’ sickbed. The light revealed what she had feared. Thomas’ complexion was pale, his skin damp with sweat. A large, oozing wound marred his right temple. She pressed a hand to his forehead.
“He’s with fever. How long has he been this way?” she asked Jean.
“Since hier soir he has the sweats, then the shivers.”
“Last night,” she murmured to herself. “That isn’t good. Fevers weaken the body and he needs his strength to recover. I’ll need to stave off the fever.”
“Will you bleed him?” Edmond knelt at her side, his voice pained.
“Contrary to many other physicians, my father does not believe in the efficacy of bleeding a patient. No,” she decided, “we will treat the fever differently. I’ve brought some dried marigold. Jean, if you could boil some water, I’ll make a tea for Thomas to drink. I’ve found it helpful in reducing fever.”
“Marigold tea?” Edmond sounded dubious.
She’d suspected he might have difficulty trusting in her. Lizzie placed a hand on his arm. “I study herbs. Either you trust me or you do not, but you must decide now. If you question me, it will only hinder my ability to give him proper care.”
He raised a brow, his expression turning startled. “Damn feisty wench aren’t you?”
“I’ve had to be,” she said simply. “Do you trust me or not, Edmond?”
A grim frown turned down his lips. “I have little choice in the matter.”
“I will do my utmost to help him.” The need to reassure and comfort him rose within her, unstoppable. While he may have become a toughened pirate capable of anything, seeing his stark concern and care for his brother could not help but to pierce the armor she’d donned over her heart. She could sense his vulnerability the way she felt the sea rolling beneath them, and it moved her. Perhaps she was wrong to insist upon believing no trace of the young man she’d loved remained within his battle-hardened façade.
“It’s all I ask.” He swallowed and bowed his head.
“I’ll need to organize myself or I won’t be much good to anyone.” She rose and placed her satchel on a table that had been secured to the floor. She’d brought a selection of her medicinal herbs that were dear since she’d yet to establish a reliable herb garden in her new home. She’d brought a salve of houseleek leaves to stop bleeding and wormwood conserve for herself in case she suffered from seasickness. Working with her father had taught her she’d need to
cleanse the wound and keep it in clean bandages.
She plucked the flask of whiskey she’d packed from her satchel, along with some squares of muslin and the houseleek salve. “The wound has to be cleaned.”
Edmond’s jaw tightened, his expression severe. “Whatever must be done shall be done.”
Lizzie went back to the bed, her mind galloping ahead of her. “How long has he been insensate?”
“Since taking the ball to his temple, I believe.”
It was ominous news. Injuries to the head were incredibly perilous. In her experience, it was difficult for anyone to recover from a serious blow. “You must know he may never wake,” she warned quietly, hating to have to deliver the sobering news.
Edmond swallowed, keeping his gaze trained on his fallen brother’s still form. “I understand.”
His distress was plain. She wanted to comfort him or offer encouraging words but yet she would not raise false hopes. Moreover, she could not allow herself to falter or feel. Her every action was now a matter of life and death.
Lizzie carefully tipped the flask over the wound and sent a stream of whiskey upon it. She focused on running the cloth gingerly over the injury. A fresh coating of blood oozed to the surface. She worked until she felt the wound had been thoroughly cleaned. Throughout the process, Thomas remained alarmingly still. She applied some houseleek salve to his wound, then pressed a square of cloth to his head, securing it by winding strips carefully round his forehead. By the time she finished, Jean had returned with a steaming pot of water and a cup.
“Place it on the table if you please.” She rose and turned to fix the marigold tea.
Edmond stood as well. “Jean, you’ll help Mrs. Winstead until she no longer requires you. Fetch me if I’m needed.”
His sudden defection troubled her. She looked to him in askance. “Captain? I thought you would aid me.”
“Jean is more than capable.” His tone had turned dismissive. Curt. “I’ve a ship to captain, Mrs. Winstead.”
Lord of Pirates Page 3
