Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides)

by Vinet, Lynette

  NINE

  “My lady, can I get you anything? Do anything for you?” Mrs. Mort’s voice seemed to come from a far distance.

  Marlee sat on the bed, her hands trembling with suppressed rage. She wanted to tear the bed sheets to shreds, to vent her fury upon something or someone, and the someone she had in mind was a deceitful cad with raven black hair and eyes so dark she could have drowned within their ebony depths. Someone named Lark Arden.

  She shivered at the memory of it all, more than humiliated. The man had played her for a fool, had led her a merry dance so she’d sign away her fortune to him. Worst of all, she’d fallen in love with the bounder. What had she ever done to deserve such a fate as this?

  “Lady Arden, please, please say something,” Mrs. Mort cajoled with a pat on Marlee’s hand. “You’re so quiet that I’m fearful. Should I fetch a doctor?”

  Poor Mrs. Mort. She looked so distraught and guilty—yes, that was it, Marlee decided. Mrs. Mort had known the truth and deceived her, too. The old woman dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her apron. “Forgive me, my lady,” her voice broke and she sniffed. “I wanted to tell you all, but, but that Mr. Carpenter wouldn’t let me. And that hateful man—”

  “Lark Arden, you mean,” Marlee burst out, needing to say his name aloud.

  “Aye, him, my lady. He made me promise not to say a word, that I’d lose me post here if I opened me mouth about who he was. ‘Tis been very hard for me since Lord Richard died. He was my lamb—not always a good man—but he was like the son I never had. Forgive me, I’m begging you, ma’am.”

  Despite the intense pain which ate away at Marlee’s heart, she didn’t hold Mrs. Mort responsible for what had happened. The woman was old and had gone along with the ruse only because she had feared being sent away, losing her livelihood.

  “I know you’re sorry,” Marlee told her. “I’m sorry, too, more than sorry. I should have known something was wrong, should have sensed it.” But she hadn’t sensed anything out of the way, too involved was she on winning her husband’s affections—or rather Lark Arden’s. God! how could she have been so dense?

  “Can I be getting you something, my lady?” Mrs. Mort asked again, as if doing something for Marlee would allay her guilt.

  Marlee merely shook her head, not truly wanting anything but to be left alone, but instead of ordering Mrs. Mort out of the room, Marlee threw back the cover and bounded from the bed. Her face was stained pink as the memory of what had transpired between herself and Lark Arden in that very bed washed over her like buffeting waves. Before she’d made up her mind about what she was going to do, she was ordering Mrs. Mort to bring her the silver gown. Hurriedly, Marlee threw on her chemise and had the old lady pull the gown over her head. “But, my lady, you’ve not got on your petticoat and stays. You can’t be thinking of running around without them.”

  “I don’t have time for the blasted things,” Marlee riposted, not the least concerned about her bad language. All she wanted was to track down Lark Arden before he sailed away for God only knew where. She had to see him again. She’d listened to his confession like a mute child, barely able to comprehend what he’d done to her, barely able to speak. But she had her wits about her now. Before Lark Arden sailed away—and as far as she was concerned he could sail straight to hell—she was going to tell him what she thought about him.

  And the bounder better have the good grace to listen.

  ~

  “Marlee, what’s wrong? You look wild, and you’re half dressed, too. What’s happened?” Barbara eyed her cousin in concern, having nearly bumped into her in the hallway.

  “I don’t have time to talk now, Barbara. I’m going on the beach,” Marlee cried over her shoulder and headed down the staircase like a silver tornado.

  “But you aren’t decently dressed!” Barbara called to no avail.

  On an impulse as she passed the library, Marlee flung open the door and found Hollins Carpenter. When he saw her, he flushed a vibrant shade of crimson and hastily rose to his feet. “Hatching any other plots I should know about?” she asked with such sarcasm in her tone that the man was left momentarily speechless.

  “My lady, please.”

  “Go ahead, Mr. Carpenter, weasel your way out of this one. I should like to see you try.”

  With an unsteady hand, he pushed his spectacles upon his nose. “I beg your forgiveness and understanding, Lady Arden. I never wanted you to be hurt, never dared believe Lark Arden would go to such lengths—”

  Marlee’s eyes widened, and this time she was the one who was crimson colored. “You know what happened—between us?”

  “Yes. Arden admitted to me that he bedded, I mean, he told me what happened. He wants me to contact him if there is a child.”

  The breath rushed through her lips. She’d never considered that she might already be carrying a child. God willing, she wasn’t. But what difference could a child make to him? Certainly, he wasn’t willing to marry her or take responsibility for her or any child she conceived. If so, he wouldn’t have rushed away. She wondered what was so important about this sailing trip that he must deceive her.

  “Like hell you’ll tell him, sir!”

  “My Lady!” Carpenter was aghast at her profanity.

  She wagged a finger in his face. “Tell that scoundrel anything about me in the future, anything at all, and I’ll do to you what you would have done to Mrs. Mort for breaking her silence. We shall part company, Mr. Carpenter, and I think you’ll sorely miss the retainer fee I pay you.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Carpenter was shaking, and Marlee felt some pity for him but not enough to apologize for what she’d just threatened. She’d meant every word of it. Now she must see to the cad who’d ruined her life and torn her heart to bits.

  Without saying another word, Marlee marched from the library to the room off the kitchen. She grabbed her gray, woolen shawl and headed out the door, entirely aware of the baffled looks exchanged between the help. Mary Carter rushed forward as Marlee exited. “My lady, ‘tis raining, you’ll be catching your death outside!”

  But Marlee took no notice of the woman. However, she couldn’t ignore the small pellets of rain and pulled the shawl over her head as she headed onto the beach. She also couldn’t ignore the thin silk slippers on her feet. Each step she took in the wet sand caused the shoes to sink and impeded her way. Taking them off, she carried them within the crook of her arm and continued down the beach, her eyes alert for sign of Lark’s ship.

  Nearing the rock she’d stood upon the previous day, she climbed to the top. The ship was in the same area it had been the day before but now the waves buffeted the hull. She needed to get to the ship and noticed a longboat, tied up at a small dock about a hundred feet away. She’d never been in a boat before, but she was so angry she’d have swum the distance to the ship. Somehow, she’d just have to figure out how to use the oars and hope for the best.

  She started to scramble down from her perch, when she thought she heard her name being called. “Marlee, wait!” Turning toward the voice, she saw Simon bounding toward her, coming from the direction of the house. When he got to within a foot of her, she felt such disappointment that he, too, must have known about Lark Arden that she didn’t know if she could look at him. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a rush. Droplets of rainwater dripped down his forehead, his blond hair was plastered to his head, and his clothes were soaked. “I went to the house to speak to Barbara and she said you’d rushed away like the devil was behind you.”

  “I’ve met the devil, and his name is Lark Arden.” She couldn’t help saying that and derived a bit of small comfort from Simon’s sheepish look.

  “Lark’s sorry about what happened, Marlee. I’m sorry.”

  “Feeble apologies,” she spat out and wiped the rainwater from her eyes.

  Simon held out a hand to her as the rain intensified. “Here, let me help you down and take you back to the house before you slip and hurt yourself.”

  I
gnoring his gesture, Marlee’s face hardened. “The only place I’m going to is that ship to give Lark Arden a piece of my mind. I want him to know how he’s hurt me—humiliated me—” Her voice broke. “I want him to know how much I hate him.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do,” she stubbornly insisted. “I need you to row me over there.”

  “That isn’t a good idea. You’ll say things to him that you don’t mean. I think it’s best that you give yourself time to think things through.”

  “Time so he can sail away you mean. Well, I won’t. The despicable cad is going to hear what I have to say.” She started to climb down from the rock, intent upon having Simon take her in the longboat to the ship. Her mind was on what she’d say to Lark Arden, anticipating the moment when she could call him a cad to his face. She’d been at a loss for words when he confessed to her, but now words just seemed to fill up her brain until she felt ready to burst.

  Simon’s hand was within her grasp, and she was ready now to take it, but suddenly without warning, her heel slipped on the slippery ledge and she lost her balance. In an instant she found herself falling, waiting for Simon to steady her, but she realized he was farther away than she’d originally thought. She plummeted onto the sand at the same second her head hit a small rock at the base of the larger one. In the dim recesses of her brain, she heard Simon’s voice beside her ear, crying for her to speak to him, to open her eyes. But all she felt was an intense pain and that was all she remembered before darkness overcame her.

  “Marlee, wake up, are you all right?” Simon cradled the unconscious girl in his arms. The rain was now beating unmercifully down upon them. The blood from Marlee’s cut on her forehead was dribbling down her left temple. She needed help. He picked her up, intent upon carrying her to the house, but the manor was much too far away. The ship was closer, but it was due to sail in a few hours’ time. Suppose she didn’t regain consciousness until then—suppose Marlee was forced to remain on board?

  A naughty grin spread across Simon’s wet and handsome face. Marlee had wanted to go on board and see Lark anyway, he reasoned as he carried her to the longboat and laid her on the boat’s bottom. He covered her with a blanket and began rowing to the large, dark ship in the bay. Now, she’d have the perfect opportunity to speak to him. In fact, they’d have months at sea to work out their differences.

  Simon knew that Lark loved Marlee and would never be happy with Bettina. He wanted everyone to be as happy as he and Barbara were, so why not take the chance and put Marlee on the ship? Lark’s and Marlee’s happiness was worth the gamble.

  Luckily, no one but Todd, a cabin boy, was about when he boarded with Marlee, hanging like a sack of grain over his shoulders. “Who’s that?” the freckle-faced boy asked, curiosity glowing on his face.

  “This is Captain Lark’s lady, Todd. Is the captain in his cabin?”

  “Naw, he be in the galley with the rest of the men.”

  Good, things were working out well, especially when Marlee gave a moan. She would soon be waking up, and what better place to open her eyes than in Lark’s own cabin, in Lark’s own bed?

  Simon motioned the boy to follow him. Silently, the two made their way to the cabin where Simon deposited Marlee on Lark’s bunk. Before fifteen minutes had passed, Simon had cleaned and dressed Marlee’s cut. She was now moaning more often and regaining consciousness.

  “I have to leave,” Simon told Todd, “but I need you to look after Lady Marlee. See that she’s warm and fed when she wants to eat. But under no circumstances are you to let her out of this room until the ship is a long distance away from here.”

  “Shouldn’t I tell the captain?”

  “Don’t bother him, lad. Let’s surprise him, shall we?”

  Simon knew that Lark would be very busy for the next few hours and most probably wouldn’t return to his cabin until long after the ship had left Cornwall. And then it would be too late for him to return Marlee to the manor house.

  Simon couldn’t help smiling to himself as he went to the galley to bid Lark farewell. One day, Lark would thank him for all of this—at least, he hoped so.

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  “Let me out! Open this door now!” Marlee pounded upon the thick wood door of the cabin but to no avail. No one seemed to hear her. Once again, as she had been doing for the last few hours, she rattled the latch only to find the door was still locked and not about to open. Stifling a curse, she found her way to the small porthole and looked out. Nothing but sea stretched before her.

  A momentary dizziness washed over her, forcing her to sit upon the bunk. She held her head in her hands and fingered the white linen strip on her forehead that was tied at the back of her head. Simon, probably, had seen to the wound, and brought her aboard ship. But why would Simon do such an outrageous thing as to leave her here? He knew how much she hated Lark Arden, yet then again, she’d shouted to him to row her to the ship—but not at the expense of being kept a prisoner in a cabin.

  Was this Lark’s cabin? Glancing around the room, she saw that it was neatly furnished with only the barest essentials. A round-looking glass hung above a large chest of drawers, two chairs and a table were in the center of the room. In a corner was a sea chest with rolled maps on top of it, and standing beside it was a large, golden saber. The walled bunk on which she sat was comfortable enough, and the sheets were clean.

  Her attention was diverted to a noise outside the door and once again, she shouted to be freed, but whoever was there paid her not the slightest bit of attention. Now her throat felt scratchy from her screams, another reason to hate Lark Arden. Where was he? Why hadn’t he appeared before now? Though not certain of the time, she realized she must have been aboard the ship for some hours. Daylight was waning and shadows crept into the room. It was just like the hateful man to keep her waiting. When had he ever thought about her pain or pleasure?

  A pink flush caressed her cheeks. Last night he’d thought about her pleasure, more than thought about it. His hands and lips, his body had driven her wild with wanton pleasure. “I won’t think about any of that,” she defiantly mumbled. Last night was over and gone as far as she was concerned and she refused to dwell upon any part of it. But the images wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.

  A pounding headache caused her to lie down. She’d rest until the cad showed up. He’d heed her demand to be returned to the manor. It was the least he could do for her.

  The wind was with them. With each billowing of the sails, Her Ladyship, as Lark had named the refurbished ship, left Cornwall farther and farther behind. There had been so much activity after the ship left port that Lark had had little time to consider his sins or even to think about Marlee. But now with the quiet of evening descending, a terrible loneliness cut through his soul. “God, if only life could sail as smoothly as this ship,” he muttered to himself.

  “Did you say somethin’, sir?” Young Todd came forward, trudging a bucket of water behind him. Dipping a ladle into the water, he handed it to Lark.

  “Nothing of importance, lad.” Lark drank thirstily and gave the ladle back to Todd. “You’ve been kept busy since we left Cornwall.”

  “Aye, sir, I have. This ain’t me first voyage. I was on another ship once, but t’wasn’t much in the way of excitement. I’m lookin’ for some adventure this time around, some fightin’. You think we’ll come across some pirates before we reach New Providence?”

  “Maybe.”

  Todd grinned. “I’m hopin’ so. I want to feel me sword go through one of those infernal blackguards.”

  Lark felt he should tell the boy that killing was wrong, but what a hypocrite he’d be when the very purpose of this voyage was to kill a man. “Have the men eaten yet?” Lark purposely changed the subject.

  “Aye, sir, everyone except you.” He gave a long pause and watched Lark through narrowed eyes. “And your lady. I done promised Mr. Oliver to keep me mouth shut so you’d be surprised. But she’s been doin’
an awful lot o’ bellowin’, so she must be feelin’ better after her bump on the head. I ‘pect she must be hungry, but sir, I ain’t too good at handlin’ ladies—”

  “What in the name of heaven are you jabbering about?” Lark’s sudden outburst startled the boy, but in reality Lark was the one whose heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He grabbed the trembling Todd by the arm. “What lady?” he roughly demanded.

  “The—one in—your cabin, sir. Mr. Oliver done said she was your lady, that she was a surprise and for me not to tell until we was a good ways out. Have I done wrong, Captain Lark? I didn’t mean no harm.”

  Lark had already left the deck before Todd finished speaking. Taking two steps at a time, he was soon below deck and unbolting the cabin door. The lavender blue of dusk met his eyes when he rushed into the room. He could barely make out the familiar objects until his eyes adjusted to the dimness. At first, he saw nothing out of place, no one. But then he heard a rustling noise on the bunk and made out the shadowy outline of a woman’s body. Moving closer, he stalled in his steps. Fear swept over him at the sight of Marlee turning over in her sleep, wearing a bandage on her head.

  She’d been hurt. Damn Simon for not telling him!

  “Marlee, Marlee, my love.” Lark bent over her, his breath fanned the pale contour of her cheek; gently he touched the bandage. “It’s me, my darling. It’s Lark.”

  Her eyes opened and glowed an even deeper shade of blue in her pale face. “I know it’s you, Lark Arden. Touch me again and I’ll bite your fingers off.”

  He withdrew his hand, more than startled at her reaction. Finally, he grinned in relief and amusement to find she wasn’t badly hurt. “From your spunky words, I can assume that your bump on the head hasn’t robbed you of health.”

  “Assume nothing,” she bit out and gingerly sat up. “I don’t need your ministrations.”

  “What happened to you?”

  Lark lounged against the wall with his arms nonchalantly folded across his chest, almost as if he discovered a woman in his bed every day. And for all she knew about the man—which was precious little—he probably was used to that very thing. His casualness infuriated her; evidently he had no idea how much he’d hurt her. Yet, again, maybe he did know and didn’t care. Well, she wouldn’t care, either. “I slipped and fell on the beach.”