The Pirate's Desire

by Jennette Green

  “Are you cold?” Jonathon’s voice came out of the darkness. “I have a rug if you need it.”

  “No. I’m fine. Thank you.” Some part of Lucinda’s mind wondered why Jonathon made no move to sit beside her…although in truth she didn’t care. Maybe he believed it would be improper, since they weren’t married yet. And Jonathon was every inch the gentleman. He would pursue the honorable path until their vows were said.

  She turned her eyes away from the black, vaguely menacing streets of this unfamiliar section of London. Clasping her hands in her lap, Lucinda drew a quiet breath to settle her nerves.

  I’m doing the right thing, she told herself again. Riel would not charge after her and interrupt her plans. By morning, when he realized she was gone, she and Jonathon would be married.

  So then why did she feel so nervous and unsettled?

  Perhaps because it was so late, and dark. And while she was with familiar Jonathon, the dark carriage was foreign, and so was the inn they approached. And the future stretched out, a dark unknown as well.

  Lucinda forced her mind to positive thoughts. Of course, the inn would be of the highest caliber. Of this, she had no doubt. Perhaps once she entered her room and slipped into slumber on her comfortable bed she would feel better.

  Yes. That’s all she needed. But her heart told her that nothing would make her happy except for Riel. Yet how could he ever provide happiness for her? He was a murderer. Again, the knowledge choked her. Lucinda struggled to push it from her mind.

  After long minutes, the carriage finally rolled to a halt.

  “My lord.” The driver opened the door. Jonathon jumped down, and took her hand to help her out.

  It was too dark to make out much of the Drury Inn. But it looked like a solid structure, and a lamp burned in one window. She followed Jonathon inside. The driver carried their luggage behind them.

  Once indoors, her spirits perked up slightly. At least fresh flowers festooned the check-in counter, and lace curtains bedecked the windows.

  The large innkeeper looked a bit surly, though. The bald man shoved the book toward Jonathon to sign.

  “Is the room prepared as I ordered?” Jonathon asked.

  “Yeah.” The man flicked Lucinda a beady glance. “Up the stairs, second door on the right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Room? Had Lucinda misheard? Perhaps it was a suite of rooms. Keeping quiet, she followed Jonathon upstairs, and he unlocked the door.

  Lucinda’s steps faltered in the doorway. It was not a suite of rooms. It was one room, with a massive four-poster bed smack in the center. A fire, flanked by two wing chairs, burned in the hearth. Apprehension uncurled within her.

  She waited until the driver deposited their bags and exited before speaking. “Jonathon? We’re not married yet. What is the meaning of this?”

  “You trust me, don’t you, love?”

  After a moment, she said, “Yes.”

  Jonathon smiled. “To forestall your guardian’s attempts to tear us asunder before we are wed, it must look as though you have been compromised this night.” He pulled off his gloves and placed them on the dresser.

  Lucinda’s heart beat faster. “I understand that, but…”

  “Tsk tsk,” Jonathon waved a finger. “I promise I will be a complete gentleman. That chair by the fire will be my bed this eve.”

  Lucinda felt a whoosh of relief, followed by uncertain guilt. “But won’t that be uncomfortable?”

  “For one night I will survive. I will merely dream of tomorrow.”

  Lucinda would not think about tomorrow night. She could not. “But…but how will I dress?”

  “I will leave you for a few minutes. Perhaps I’ll take a stroll outside. You are tired and want to rest now, I am sure.”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Very well. Let me get a warmer jacket.” Jonathon opened his large valise and pulled out a folded great coat. “Be back soon.” And then he was gone.

  Lucinda sat abruptly on the bed. It all seemed like too much, too fast. Was she truly ready to marry Jonathon? It seemed wrong to be here with him. She loved Riel.

  But Riel was not the man for her.

  This truth didn’t quiet the doubts pummeling her heart. Was she doing the right thing? Or had she made an impulsive decision because she’d been devastated to learn the truth about Riel?

  Tears burned in her eyes, and Lucinda bit her lip. She was well rid of him, she reminded herself. More tears formed in her eyes and ached in her throat.

  Jonathon was the man for her. He was a Duke. An upstanding gentleman. And at least he was wealthy, so she knew he wasn’t marrying her for her money. He was also handsome, charming…and could have any girl in the world. But he had chosen her. And he was willing to risk scandal to have her. Lucinda should feel honored by the depth of his devotion.

  Her heart felt hollow when she thought about Riel again. If she couldn’t have him, any man would do. And Jonathon was better than most.

  Lucinda quickly disrobed and pulled on her night rail. Neatly, she packed all her things away. Effie would be proud.

  She stood in front of the dresser mirror, and pulled the pins from her hair. A few fell on the dresser, and one bounced into Jonathon’s open bag. While running a brush through her blond tresses, Lucinda slipped her hand into his valise to find the errant pin. It was not on top, so her fingers dug down through his clothing to find it. She felt momentary embarrassment to touch his personal items, but told herself she was being silly. Soon he would be her husband.

  Nausea gripped her. She gripped the dresser to steady herself. Stop it. It is going to turn out fine.

  Under control again, she knelt and resumed her search for the pin. Lucinda did not feel the hard, slender pin, but rather silky textures. Curious, she lifted a corner of the garment. A scarf? She pulled it out, and then noticed another one beneath it. Several more lay tucked into the bottom of his valise.

  Scarves? Red, yellow, and blue ones. Designs mottled the bright colors. Jonathon had four. What in the world? And then her fingers touched something else entirely. It felt rough and fibrous. Rope. Lucinda pulled out a loop and stared at it. Her heart thumped. Why would Jonathon carry scarves and rope in his bag?

  Certainly they weren’t ordinary items for a man to possess.

  Only one man might carry such things. Her heart pounded faster as she tried to push the thought away, even as it slid into her mind.

  The Silk Scarf Rapist.

  But Jonathon could not be that fiend!

  Could he?

  The doorknob rattled, and Lucinda surged to her feet. It opened. Too late, she realized she still held the red scarf in her hand. Jonathon slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

  No sense hiding it. Lucinda had to know the truth. With trembling fingers, she lifted the scarf. “What is this?”

  Jonathon turned, and his pleasant expression faltered. His lips thinned. He strode toward her and plucked it from her fingers. Anger shimmered, and his slender fingers suddenly looked bony. His knuckles turned white. “It has nothing to do with you.”

  Lucinda felt sick. He was not denying it. Could he truly be…the one? Surely she must be flying to ridiculous conclusions. “Why…why do you have scarves in your valise?”

  Jonathon shut the case and locked it shut. “They are not for you.” His green eyes glittered, looking dark and unfathomable. And that’s when she knew the truth.

  Her voice trembled. “Why not? Will you save them for another girl? Or perhaps for after we are married?”

  “It is not what you think. They are gifts.”

  Too little, too late. “And the rope? Is that a gift, too?”

  Jonathon’s face contorted. “I like you, Lucinda. You are not a part of it, I said.”

  Quiet, deadly fear slid into her soul. “I am now,” she whispered.

  Jonathon clenched his fists and a visible change came over him. A cold mask shuttered the windows to his soul. “Accept what I’ve told yo
u, or you will leave me no choice.”

  Terror curled like tentacles around her heart. “You will rape me?”

  “Agree to silence, or I will be forced to do far worse.”

  Lucinda gasped.

  “Marry me and agree to keep my secret, or…” Jonathon wound the silk scarf around his palms.

  Lucinda trembled and wished for her butter knife. She stepped backward. “Why?” she demanded in a shaking voice. “Why would you commit such monstrous deeds? You have everything! A title, wealth, land…and you can have any woman you want. Why…why succumb to such depravity?”

  “A man who has easy access to everything becomes bored, Lucinda.” He advanced toward her, the scarf stretched taut between his hands. “The thrill makes the pleasure more…acute.”

  Lucinda gasped, and backed up still more. “You are mad! Why…how could you even think of such depravity?”

  Jonathon smiled. “My brother was my hero. I have not mentioned him to you, have I?”

  “You…you have a brother?”

  Jonathon grimaced. “He was murdered. But not before I saw his way with women. I was thirteen, and quite impressionable. It stuck with me, and over the years I have learned how right he was. Forbidden fruit is the sweetest.”

  He stood toe to toe with her now, and Lucinda felt the silken scarf upon her neck. She had to keep him talking. She had to think of a plan of escape.

  “Then…then the girl you raped last year was not your first?”

  Jonathon chuckled. “Of course not, my love. But the others were low born girls. Quite feisty, too, some of them. That’s one of the reasons why I like you so much, Lucinda.” Quick as a wink, he swirled the scarf down and secured her wrists together.

  Lucinda struggled, horrified, but Jonathon only hauled her up against his hard body and kissed her. She jerked her jaw right, and spit on him.

  Jonathon’s smiling eyes glittered down at her. Softly, he said, “And so the sport begins.” Before she knew what he was about, he dragged her to the four-poster bed and tied her wrists to the post.

  He loomed over her. “Now. Will I need my ropes, or will you behave?”

  Panic beat a staccato rap through her heart and soul. Using every ounce of her strength, Lucinda tried to fling her body off the edge of the bed, but she wasn’t fast enough. Hard hands bit into her, forcing her back, and Jonathon straddled her.

  Lucinda bucked and twisted. Horror and fear seeped into every corner of her mind. And then he leaned forward, crushing her with his full body weight. Moist lips kissed her.

  Desperately, she jerked her chin left and right but could not escape him. Lucinda felt like she was suffocating. She felt like she was about to be swallowed up by a dragon from the very pit of hell.

  Help me! she prayed incoherently. Send Riel. Oh Riel, where was he?

  For the barest second, Jonathon pulled back; perhaps to gather breath to stoke the fires of hell in his soul, and Lucinda screamed out, “Riel!”

  Jonathon chuckled. “Your blackguard of a guardian will not save you now. I am the one you should be pleading with. My name should be upon your lips. Say it,” he urged softly. “I want to hear you say my name.”

  “You are insane! Go to the devil.”

  “Say it now,” he whispered. “Or I will make you scream it later.”

  She felt his hands upon her, and it was more than she could bear. “No. No! Riel!” she sobbed out. “Riel…”

  * * * * *

  Panic thrummed through Riel, but with methodical swiftness he searched Lucy’s room, looking for any clue pointing to where she might have gone.

  Nothing. Except a valise had vanished, as had several of her new dresses.

  He shoved a despairing fist at his head. “Lucy!” he growled. Terror clawed at his heart. “Where are you?”

  He ran downstairs and called for his carriage. George, sleepy though he was, quickly saw to it. Outside, clouds obscured the full moon. The dusky night felt ominous and still. Riel gave the driver instructions. They couldn’t have gone far. At least, Riel prayed they hadn’t gone far. During the short ride, he prayed to God that he’d find them before it was too late.

  When the carriage slowed, Riel sprang out and sprinted up the steps to the Warrington mansion. With a heavy fist, he pounded upon it. “Open up now!” he roared. “Be quick about it!”

  A butler eventually peered out. A disdainful frown wrinkled his brow. “Here now, sir. It’s the middle of the night. If you would be so good to return tomorrow…”

  Riel put a shoulder to the door and shoved his way inside.

  “Here, now!” the man bleated. “Come back at once, sir!”

  But Riel sprinted up the stairs. He’d been here once before, and had a good guess where Jonathon’s rooms might be. He burst inside. Empty. He ran to the dressing room and washing room. All neat as a pin and empty. Swiftly, he checked the table top. No notes. Nothing. Frustrated, he sent a final glance around the room, and then barreled past the butler and a footman, who had just reached the master suite.

  “I sent for the constable!” the butler exclaimed in a querulous voice. “You will pay for your misdeed.”

  Riel lunged down the stairs and burst into Jonathon’s library. A clue must be here, somewhere. Quickly, he pawed through the papers on the desk and in the drawers. A paper poked up out of the trash bin, and he snatched it out. Times were written on it; as if Jonathon had figured out to the minute the best time to snatch Lucinda. Two hours ago, by the look of it. And he’d scrawled the name of an inn. The Drury Inn, on the outskirts of London. And the name of a church and time for tomorrow.

  Crumpling it in his fist, he elbowed past the butler and footman again and tore for his carriage. Two hours had passed. Was he too late? He roared instructions to the driver.

  Would he make it in time? Anguish tormented Riel, as scene after scene of what Jonathon might be doing to Lucy flashed through his mind. He had no proof the Duke was the Silk Scarf Rapist. But his heart told him that Lucy was in grave danger. Had he failed a woman for the second time in his life? Riel could not bear the thought. Please God, not Lucy. Please, no!

  Many long, excruciating minutes crept by as his team galloped through London. With every passing moment, tension coiled around Riel’s heart like a tight watch spring. Anger and fear churned in him. Images from long ago tortured his mind. Images that, if he was right, could be happening again right now. Finally, the carriage slowed.

  Riel hurtled out of the carriage before it stopped moving. A burly man stood at the inn’s door, closing up, but Riel shoved his way inside. “Tell me the room number of a recent arrival. A man and woman,” he commanded. “The woman has blond hair.”

  The bald man’s beady eyes narrowed. He whipped out a knife. “You’d best be on your way, mister.”

  “She has been abducted!” Riel said through his teeth. “I am her guardian.”

  “As I said,” the man lifted his knife. “Ye’d best be on your way.”

  Riel’s fist shot into man’s throat. With a gurgle, the innkeeper sank to the floor. Without a backward glance, Riel headed for the desk. Which keys were gone? Half of them, it looked like. He’d have to pound on all the doors.

  Riel took the stairs three at a time, and at the top he hesitated, feeling faintly dizzy. It all seemed like a sick dream. It was just like before, except there were no screaming women. No open door. Lucy. Where was she?

  And then he heard a blood curdling scream.

  Lucy! Heart pumping, he charged down the hall. Again he heard a cry, and this time he knew it was Lucy, for she cried out his name. A wealth of terror rang in every syllable. Riel hit the door with his shoulder and it splintered like matchsticks.

  He saw Lucy on the bed with that maggot, Warrington on top of her.

  Fury tore through Riel…so intense he momentarily lost all rational thought. He had no recollection of crossing the room. Only of snatching the snake off of Lucy. A red haze enveloped his mind, and he punched Jonathon’s surprised fa
ce as hard as he could. He saw another, nearly identical face. It belonged to a dead man.

  Riel slugged Jonathon again, and blood spurted from his nose. And again and again, he hit him. Jonathon made one attempt to rally and punch back, but Riel’s years on the high seas, straining with sheets and the tasks of sailing a ship, endowed him with a strength the other man had no hope to match. Four more punches, and Jonathon collapsed on the bed, unconscious. Riel wanted to keep hitting him. To obliterate the scum who had hurt Lucy…who had hurt Pen.

  Breathing hard, he staggered back a step. No. He could not. He would not kill another man.

  “Riel,” a tiny voice whimpered. Lucy. At last he focused upon her and then collapsed on his knees beside her.

  Lucy stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Her wrists were tied to the post, and her ripped, thin cotton night rail was bunched about her knees. Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her face. “Riel, I knew you would come.”

  With a groan of anguish, he made short work of releasing her wrists. “Lucy.” He groaned again and pulled her to him. “Lucy,” he whispered in her hair, and then held her tight. No other words were needed.

  * * * * *

  Lucinda clung to Riel and wept. He had saved her from Jonathon.

  The last minute replayed through her mind in slow motion. Again, she experienced the relief that had swept through her when Riel bashed down the door. And then fear of another kind drove into her heart, for a feral snarl contorted Riel’s face, making him look like a savage beast. He’d ripped Jonathon off of her and pounded hard, heavy blows into his face. Cartilage crunched as Riel smashed Jonathon’s nose, and still his flying fists did not abate. In that moment, Lucinda knew Riel could easily kill Jonathon with his bare knuckles. For moments, she had actually feared for the Duke’s life.

  But Riel staggered back when Jonathon fell back on the bed, unconscious. The mindless fury eased from his face, and Riel’s gaze fell on her. The next moment, he crumpled beside her and pulled her into his arms. Riel. Her protector. She felt safe in his arms.

  And she still, foolishly, loved him. She loved a murderer!