The Pirate's Desire

by Jennette Green

  Summer fled by. Damp, rainy weather set in and the days grew colder. Late October and Lucinda’s nineteenth birthday arrived before she knew it. She invited Amelia and a few other friends over to enjoy a small party. Sophie’s worsening cough prevented the older lady from attending, which was a dark blot on the occasion.

  A letter for each of them arrived from Riel, too. Sophie was thrilled, and Lucinda read hers over and over again…short as it was. It simply said,

  Happy birthday, Lucy. I will deliver to you a present of your choice when I return. May your day be as bright and beautiful as you are.

  I remain

  Ever yours,

  Riel

  His words warmed her. He thought her bright and beautiful? Better than a tantrumming, spoilt brat! Maybe he believed she’d grown up at last. Although Lucinda still didn’t think she needed a guardian, she missed Riel. His absence left an aching void in her heart. How that could be when he irked her so much, she could not fathom, but there it was. Perhaps she was lonely, and wanted more people to talk to. In any case, now Riel owed her both a present and a favor. She would be a rich girl indeed when he returned.

  However many long months from now that might be.

  At the beginning of November Sophie’s cough dramatically worsened, and they traveled to Iveny. Content, Sophie spent most of her days wrapped up in a blanket in the conservatory. Lucinda made sure the fire always burned, for the warmth seemed to help Sophie’s cough.

  The days slowly passed. November slipped by, and then it was Christmas. Letters arrived from Amelia and Riel. Riel could not come home, but he mentioned the end of the war appeared in sight. Lucinda hoped so.

  Amelia sent a newsy letter, and excitedly wrote that she and her mother planned to spend the entire Season in London. It would be Amelia’s last Season, and her parents had decided the expense would be worth it. Amelia also mentioned, with many exclamation marks, that young Timothy Fenwick and his twin sister would attend, as well. In late March, both would turn eighteen. “Imagine all the sore, stomped toes! Miss you, but April will be here before we know it.”

  Perhaps the time would fly by for Amelia, but it did not for Lucinda. Sophie’s health took a dramatic turn for the worse in January, and she could not get out of bed. Worried, Lucinda spent most of her days with her, reading to her, helping her eat, and just spending time together.

  As Sophie grew grayer and sicker, so did Lucinda’s spirits. Sophie’s bright eyes dimmed, and Lucinda wanted to weep. Where was Riel? He needed to come home. Now. Before it was too late.

  In February, she wrote a letter in care of Command Headquarters in Portsmouth, urging Riel to come home at once.

  * * * * *

  The long months at sea passed quickly for Riel; at least, for the most part. The days were full of daring sorties with the French, zooming close to spy on locations, and then fleeing from cannon fire. Tradewind suffered a wound to her upper deck. A repair fixed at sea.

  They anchored at various small ports as the Lieutenant Commander directed, so the intelligence they gathered could be ferried to appropriate command centers. Never once did they dock in Portsmouth, although Riel did receive the letter Lucy sent—but not until March. The news weighed on his spirit. He longed to be home and see his great-aunt. And Lucy. He missed his feisty ward more than he’d ever dreamed possible. His heart ached when he thought of her, which was often.

  And he was weary. Long days and nights at sea, combined with the unremitting stress and fear of discovery, meant Riel did not sleep well. When he did, especially on those darkest nights, he dreamed of Lucy.

  In those dreams she always came as she had that day in the study at Ravensbrook, when he’d been exhausted and wondered how long he could drive himself without rest. She came as an angel to offer comfort to his tormented soul. Her smile applied the balm of peace to the stress he felt running in the shadows with the enemy each day, and flirting with the truth…seeking it, and finding it, as was his job. Searching out French locations and following clippers to their hideouts. A deliverer of spies and messages. Cloak and dagger. Secrets and truth. Much like the truth in his own soul that he wanted to keep hidden.

  How long before someone discovered that secret at last? How long before he was exposed as a killer? He’d been afraid Warrington might expose him last Season. If not him, then someone else.

  Darkness lived in Riel’s soul; a blot that would never leave. Didn’t it say somewhere—perhaps in the Bible, as he’d learned as a boy—that all hidden truths would be exposed? One day, his black secret would be uncovered. Lucy would find out. This certainty became stronger as the days stretched into March, and when the stress of his job and worry for his great-aunt felt like a sword through his soul.

  Lucy still came to him in his dreams then, offering sweet comfort…but in the middle she always learned the truth of his past. Always her lovely face contorted with the contempt and condemnation he deserved. And always she fled from him, leaving him desolate and alone.

  Forever alone. Riel woke from the dreams sweating and cold. Despair and hollow acceptance grew that one day the nightmare would come true. One day he would lose Lucy forever. But first, he would deliver her to a man worthy of her…who would enjoy her fire. Who would love her with his whole heart, as she deserved. Then, when he’d completed his promise to her father, it wouldn’t matter if Warrington or someone else exposed his past.

  Riel tried to fill the empty ache inside him with work, and more work, day and night. And he cherished the dreams when Lucy came to him and he could have her all to himself for a little while. Before the wolves tore her away from him forever.

  One wolf, however, would never get his teeth into her. Warrington. As the time grew closer to the Season and the end of his work with the Navy, Riel grew more resolute on this point. He didn’t trust Warrington, and never would. And his decision was based on more than what had happened in Morocco. That brother of a viper would never touch Lucy.

  Chapter Fifteen

  April, 1814

  One morning in early April, Lucinda read to Sophie from the book of Proverbs. Sophie sat propped up by pillows all hours of the day and night now. It was the only way she could breathe. Her ankles and feet had swollen to three times their normal size, but the quilt covered them from view, protecting her fragile hold on dignity. The foxglove plant did not work as well anymore. And if Sophie took more, she felt nauseous and didn’t eat. So Riel’s aunt had decided to continue her original foxglove regimen. The alternative would only hasten her death.

  Right now, Sophie’s eyes flickered open and she appeared to be listening. This encouraged Lucinda to read on. When she paused to turn the page, Lucinda heard the front door close, and then the butler’s voice in the hall. Then the rumble of a deep, accented voice.

  Lucinda bolted to her feet. Riel!

  She ran out of the room, Bible still in hand.

  Riel. In the flesh, talking to George, the butler. Lucinda went very still and her eyes drank him in. Joy and relief washed through her. He stood larger than life. As always, bigger than she remembered. Still, he wore his black hair in that tail and a cravatless white linen shirt. His tan pants cut lean lines down his strong legs and his superfine, dark blue jacket emphasized the broad, muscular power of his shoulders.

  In a flash, Lucinda remembered every time she had been close to him: dancing with him, and when he’d carried her up Iveny’s stairs, holding her close. She remembered the raw strength of him. The determined, unbending, indomitable force that was this man, her guardian.

  Breaking out of her involuntary trance, she flew toward him. At that moment, Riel saw her. Those black eyes shot through her with the force of a cannon.

  Her steps faltered, her heart thumping. “Riel.” No other words came to her mind.

  Without a word, he strode for her. A frown knit his brows together.

  Lucinda stopped, confused, as he approached. Why was he frowning? Then he shocked her still more when he cupped her face with his
big, calloused hands and his black gaze scanned every inch of her features. Her heart fluttered in her breast.

  His warm hands felt comforting.

  “Lucy, what have you done to yourself?” Concern rumbled in his deep voice.

  She relaxed a bit. “Nothing. I’ve just been sitting with Sophie…”

  “All the day, every day? Attending to her every need?”

  “Yes.”

  Anger flashed. “Lucy.”

  She frowned back. “This is a fine greeting, Riel Montclair!”

  “You look white and exhausted. Like death.” His voice scraped like rough velvet.

  She gasped and pulled free. “I do not!”

  “You have not been taking care of yourself.” His knuckles gently brushed her cheek.

  Lucinda relaxed again and allowed her gaze to tangle with his dark one. He cared for her. At last, she understood him a little. That was why he behaved like a boor sometimes. She offered a tiny smile. “I missed you too, Riel.”

  A smile gentled the straight slash of his mouth. “And I you, Lucy.” He leaned close and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “But you must take care of yourself.”

  Heart fluttering, Lucinda pulled back. “Sophie’s worse. She requires a lot of care.”

  Determination steeled his features. “It is enough, then. I will hire a nurse for her.”

  “No!”

  He strode toward Sophie’s room. “How is she? I received your letter and came as fast as I could.” He stopped in the doorway to his great-aunt’s room. Shock, followed by anguish, contorted his features. Just as quickly, he masked it and knelt beside the bed. “Aunt Sophie.” His tanned fingers enfolded her small, withered scrap of a hand.

  Sophie’s eyes opened and a spark flared to life—one Lucinda hadn’t seen in weeks. “My dear boy,” she whispered. “I…knew it must be you when Lucinda ran off like that.”

  Riel glanced at Lucinda, but she could not read his expression.

  A paroxysm of coughing seized Sophie’s frail frame. Tears burned in Lucinda’s eyes by the time it finally quieted. Each time it happened she feared that Sophie would not recover, or that the fluid in her lungs would deepen so much that she would suffocate to death.

  That helpless fear skewered worry through Lucinda again and again all day long, every day. The grief she felt, knowing she could do nothing for her friend but spend time with her was intolerable. This past winter, Lucinda had begun to pray more than ever before in her life; for Riel’s safety, and for Sophie. If Sophie could not recover, she prayed that her last weeks would be happy, and that she would die in peace, surrounded by those she loved. At last, Riel had arrived home safely. One prayer answered so far.

  “Do not speak.” Riel’s voice sounded rough. “Know this. I am home for good, Auntie. The war is over, and the Navy is finished with my ship.”

  Sophie smiled and raised her hand a fraction, grasping for Lucinda’s, which she quickly held tight. “Lucinda has taken the best care of me. I am glad you’re home, Riel. We both are.”

  Riel spoke a little about his long missions, and then Lucinda felt she should leave the two alone to visit. Quietly, she excused herself and retreated to her room to splash water on her face. Did she truly look so awful?

  One look confirmed she did. Her eyes looked wide and sad, and her skin pallid. And she felt exhausted. She hadn’t slept well in ages. Although Sophie’s rooms were located downstairs, her cough woke Lucinda again and again, all night long, and knotted her heart with worry and fear. Sophie would not allow Lucinda or her maid to attend to her at night. She said they needed their rest. True. But Lucinda still could not sleep.

  Now that Riel was here, perhaps she could take a nap. Lucinda stretched out on the cotton quilt and instantly fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  Riel joined Lucinda, who felt much refreshed, for supper. “It is arranged,” he said. “Sophie has agreed to hire two nurses.”

  “Two?”

  “One for the day and one for the night. You need your rest, Lucy.”

  Lucinda felt relieved. The nurses would know what to do for Sophie—more than she did, that was for sure.

  After a swallow of wine, Riel said, “It’s not necessary to hover by her bedside every minute of the day. It is not healthy.”

  Lucinda trembled with quick temper and slapped her napkin down on the table. “Says who? You?”

  “You have done too much. Sophie’s sickness is killing you, too.” The gentleness of his voice undid her, and tears spilled down her cheeks. They came all too readily these days.

  “I can’t bear to see her suffer like this, Riel. I want to do something to help her feel better, but I can’t. All I can do is talk to her or read to her.”

  “Continue to do those things, then. But take time for yourself, too.”

  Lucinda picked at her food. “Is the war truly over?”

  “It is only a matter of days.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “You are happy to have me home?” That dark gaze held hers, and she sensed a deeper question there. One she was not certain how to answer.

  She was happy he was home. More glad, perhaps, than she wanted to feel. He still unnerved her more than she liked. And certainly, she still knew none of her enigmatic guardian’s dark secrets, either. But she would speak the truth.

  “Yes. I’m relieved you weren’t killed or injured. And I’m glad you’re here…to help me with Sophie.”

  “It has been a heavy responsibility. Thank you for taking such good care of her, Lucy.”

  “I would do nothing else,” she said quietly.

  “Your father would be proud of you. You have developed into a caring and selfless young lady.”

  “At last you admit I’ve matured? That I no longer need a guardian?” Her spirit quickened. She enjoyed baiting him. In fact, she had missed him terribly, she realized with a pang in her heart. She was so glad he was home.

  He smiled, too, surprising her. “You need a protector. And I will be yours.” Riel forked a bite of meat into his mouth.

  “Jonathon calls you my saber rattling guardian.”

  “Good. Then he will keep his place,” he said grimly.

  Lucinda frowned. “I need to collect suitors, not scare them off.”

  “I will separate the wheat from the chaff.”

  “I will do that, thank you. I will choose my own husband.” Then a thought that had been tugging at her heart for some time spilled out. “But perhaps I should wait until next Season to find a husband. I can’t leave Sophie here, suffering and alone, while I go off to dance and flirt at frivolous fêtes and balls.”

  “You surprise me more every minute.”

  “That I have finally grown up?”

  “Sophie wants you to go to London.”

  Lucinda blinked with surprise. “Did she tell you that?”

  “Yes. She’s afraid you will refuse to go. She asked me to insist, and to convince you to do so.”

  “But…” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I can’t leave her here alone. I won’t!”

  “It is her wish.”

  “No. I will not.”

  Riel remained silent for a moment. “I do not know if she is well enough to transport to London.”

  “We do not need to transport her. I just said I will stay here. And that is the end of the matter.” Lucinda bit off a crust of bread. Riel could not force her to go to London, and well he knew it.

  “I will speak with Sophie about it.”

  Lucinda said nothing. In her mind, the battle was finished. For once, she would have her way, and Riel could do nothing about it.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Lucinda found Riel in Sophie’s room. Their heads were close together, and they appeared to be deep in conversation. She stepped back. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”

  “No.” Riel said. “This concerns you. I was just about to tell my aunt of your stubbornness, Lucy.”

  Sophie glanced from one to the
other of them.

  “Auntie, Lucinda refuses to go to London. She wants to stay with you.”

  A flash of tired spunk sparkled in Sophie’s eyes. “Then pack up my paraphernalia. I’m going to London.”

  “No, Aunt Sophie! I am happy to stay here.”

  Weak and sick as she was, Sophie set her jaw in a stubborn line. “It is my last wish.” She fixed Lucinda with her bright blue eyes. “Do not deny an old lady her dying wish.”

  “But you’re comfortable here. And the move cannot be good for your health!”

  Sophie coughed, long and painfully. Then, “What difference does it make? I am going to die, Lucinda. I would rather do it with you and Riel close by.” She coughed for an excruciatingly long minute. Each sharp, wheezing cough felt as painful to Lucinda as a nail piercing her own heart.

  Sophie continued on, as if uninterrupted. “And knowing you are enjoying yourself…will make it all the more palatable for me. You can come and tell me…all of the ton doings every day. It will cheer me considerably.”

  After this long, halting speech, Sophie coughed for another long minute, and turned an alarming purple. Helplessly, Lucinda stared at the obstinate older woman.

  At last she said, “If you insist, Aunt Sophie.”

  “I do. Now, you and Riel arrange it all. I need to rest.”

  Lucinda kissed Sophie’s forehead, and followed Riel out. After the door closed, she crossed her arms and glared. “Now are you happy? This trip will be the death of her. I just wanted to stay here and keep her company!”

  “She wants you to go to London. Aren’t her wishes important?”

  “Of course. But she can’t risk her health. I’ll go, if she insists, but it would be best if she stays here.”

  “Did you not hear her? She has made up her mind to go to London. By now you should know that when Aunt Sophie makes up her mind, there is no changing it.”

  How well Lucinda knew this. She frowned at him. “Like a certain nephew of hers.”