Soon they’d be married and their life would begin—together.
~
Neils Lundstrum watched as The Merry Bandit lifted anchor and sailed smoothly out of the harbor. He had a great deal to do before departing in the morning and very little time in which to do it. But he did take the time to write a note to Governor Rogers, informing him that Lady Arden had sailed away with Sloane Mason, and had his cabin boy deliver it to the governor. He’d leave telling Lark Arden about it to Rogers.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
The sun-drenched shore of Anastasia Island beckoned in the distance. From her cabin window, Marlee could see the surf gently kissing the sandy shore as The Merry Bandit entered Matanzas Bay. She’d been on Sloane’s ship for nearly five days now, having lost a day due to a sudden fierce storm which had seeped terror into her heart. As much as she’d enjoyed her sailing time with Lark, she now couldn’t wait to be off of Sloane’s ship. Not only had the storm frightened her but Sloane did, too.
There was something disturbing in the lustful way his eyes raked over her when he didn’t think she was watching. He hadn’t overtly offended her, touching her only when it was necessary, but she sensed he wanted to do more than take her elbow as he guided her about the ship. Her mind replayed Lark’s warning about Sloane. She couldn’t help remembering the girl who had drowned herself when Sloane refused to marry her. So far, Marlee didn’t really have cause to distrust him. He’d been solicitous of her, more than friendly and eager to help. But he was too eager and this disturbed her more than his secretive glances.
“Soon it will be over,” she assured herself. As soon as she saw Manuel Silva and pleaded with him to release Lark’s friend, she could breathe easier.
A light tap sounded on her cabin door and she knew it was Sloane before he entered at her summons. How very handsome he is, she thought to herself, almost a duplicate of Lark. But again, she felt uneasy with Sloane, finding cause to wonder what secrets he hid behind his mirthful blue eyes.
“We’ll be anchoring soon,” he informed her and threw himself indolently into a chair. “I’ll seek out Silva for you and arrange an interview. It’s best if I discover how the wind blows before you come ashore.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Marlee said with worry in her eyes. “What will I do if Silva doesn’t agree to see me?”
Sloane stifled a laugh. “My lady, Silva will see you once I tell him how beautiful you are. In fact, Silva’s greatest flaw is his weakness for beautiful women. He’ll do just about anything for a pretty lady.”
Marlee stiffened and regarded Sloane coldly. “Please make it clear to Silva that I have a business proposition to offer him. Releasing Lark’s friend is the only reason I’ve come to St. Augustine. What I look like has no bearing on why I’m here.”
“If you say so,” Sloane conceded but chuckled as he stood up. His index finger caressed her cheek. “Still it doesn’t hurt to be pretty, my lady.”
Marlee noticed the lustful gleam in his eyes again and purposely moved herself out of his way. “I’m ready to depart whenever you tell me,” she said with a touch of haughtiness in her stance. She hoped to be off of this ship soon.
~
Manuel Silva rose above the auburn-haired vixen who lay naked and writhing upon his bed. Her fair wrists were tied to the bedposts with strands of silken cord. With each twisting motion of her body, her full breasts quivered and drove Manuel to the brink of climax. She was his prisoner, his captive wanton. Soon he’d spill himself into her, releasing the pent-up lust he could no longer seem to find except in perverse play.
“Ah, you drive me insane,” he whispered into her ear and stroked her nipples until she mewled in pleasure. “Are you ready for me? Tell me you are ready for I am about to burst.”
Her hips arched upward, moving in unison with Silva’s. Passion wreathed her face, sparks of desire danced within the depths of her green eyes—eyes which Silva had told her resembled a greedy tigress’s. And greedy she was; she wanted all of him and feared losing him. It had been so long since he’d enjoyed her that she wondered if he might be growing bored with her. It had been a stroke of genius on her part that she’d thought of the silk ribbons and told Manuel to tie her up and have his way with her. She found she loved being helpless—and that Manuel enjoyed it, too, made the game all the more delightful. She moaned, feeling him thrusting into her, his largeness filling every crevice of her womanhood until she could stand the pleasure no longer.
“Sí, Manuel, sí,” she gasped. The moment of release washed over them, leaving them drained and panting.
“You are a wanton witch, Bettina.” He nibbled on her ear later and stroked the wet spot between her thighs. “You make me want you again.”
“Ah, sí, my darling, I want you, too.” She began writhing again, loving the way her dark-haired pirate stroked her softness. She was ready again, always ready for him because he was her salvation, her life, now.
Manuel lifted himself up, poised to enter her, when a knock sounded on the door. “What is it?” he shouted irritably at the servant.
“There is a gentleman to see you, Señor Manuel. His name is Sloane Mason. He—he will not go away.” Doña Carlotta sounded as if she were about to cry.
Manuel lifted his head in bafflement, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I wonder what the bastard wants.” He barked at the elderly woman on the opposite side of the door, “Have Mason wait in the dining room for me.”
Bettina kissed him, imploring him with her hands on his buttocks, enticing him not to leave her. “Finish, Manuel, please finish,” she begged and kneaded the hard flesh with her fingers.
Manuel grinned down at Bettina’s flushed face. “You beg so wantonly, that I cannot refuse you.”
And he didn’t. He gave her what she craved, but seconds after he’d found his release, Manuel got up and began to dress. Bettina sat up and pulled the sheet around her voluptuous body. Her mouth formed into a pretty pout. “You treat me like a whore, Manuel.”
He finished pulling his white-laced shirt over his head and sat on the bed to pull his boots on. “Bettina, you know what you are to me. I have to see this Sloane Mason.”
“I don’t care about this person, whoever he may be,” Bettina snapped and her eyes sparked fire. “I don’t know what I am to you. I’m mistress of your house, Manuel, but what else?”
Manuel stroked his short, dark beard for a second. Should he tell Bettina that he’d grown tired of her, that he grew tired of women very quickly? This one, however, had been different from the others. He’d captured her off of an English ship, and the only reason he’d kept her for so long was because she was English. Her beautiful skin was the most translucent and pale he’d ever seen, her hair was the most vivid shade of red, and her lips were the color of rubies—unlike the whores he’d bedded. But her real fascination was that she’d been a pirate hunter’s intended bride. She’d belonged to Lark Arden—a man he detested because he tried so hard to capture him. Silva had taken the woman as compensation for the treasures Arden had stolen from him by confiscating other pirate ships and returning the booty to the English on New Providence. The stupid man had attempted to put him out of business until Silva had blown Arden and his ship out of the water.
But Silva had kept Bettina. She belonged to him just as long as he wanted her. The wench thought he treated her like a whore, which is exactly what Silva thought her to be. It turned out she was really no different from the other women he’d known. He’d thought he was taking her virginity the first time he took her, but he discovered she’d faked her “deflowering.” She’d known exactly what to do and took an active part in the whole process. He thought he’d heighten his own enjoyment by passing her around to select members of his crew while he watched, but the English beauty had found pleasure with all of them. He’d never forget the way she’d looked after they’d finished with her. Dios! she’d been more beautiful and wanton than he’d ever imagined, and it was Bettina’s insatiable appe
tite which made him want her all the more—which caused him to claim her exclusively as his own.
Now she resented that he treated her like a whore. Were all women as silly as this one? Didn’t she realize that he would never marry such a one as this? She wasn’t pure enough to bear his name or his children. Somehow he would have to be rid of her, but how and when?
He smacked her on the buttocks. “I have business dealings, and can’t be bothered with your woman’s silliness.”
“Silliness? I am not silly, you loathsome piece of vermin, I am not—”
Manuel grabbed Bettina by the wrists and pulled her up to him. “Never call me that! You forget that I could have used you and then killed you, throwing your body to be used as fish food, when I took you from that ship. Instead, I brought you here to my home and have pampered you, giving you clothes and jewels and sex, everything you crave.”
“What about love?” she asked defiantly, though she shook like mulberry leaves m a tempest. Silva’s temper was one thing which she couldn’t control. She could ably control his passion, but when he was angry she didn’t know what he would do.
He leered at her and whispered hotly against her ear, “You love only yourself.’’ Then he let her go and she dropped to the mattress on her knees and said nothing else, because he was right.
~
Sloane extended a hand to Silva, finding the swarthy pirate had changed very little since they’d last met. Silva’s hair was raven black, his eyes a deep shade of brown that flashed with amusement in his tanned face. The offer of a cup of port was eagerly accepted by Sloane since it was known far and wide that Silva only served the best brew, confiscated from the most prized ships.
“I appreciate your seeing me, Manuel. To be honest, I’m surprised that I arrived in one piece. You’ve got some very fierce guards at your gate.”
“Hmm, sí,” Manuel said and considered Sloane between slow sips of his port. “I pay my men well, so they are loyal to me.”
“Loyalty, I find, is something which can’t be bought.”
A grin split Manuel’s lips. “Sí, amigo. You’re proof of that fact. My money didn’t sway you to remain with me. Tell me, how is your English friend, Governor Rogers?”
“Very well. To be honest with you, I’ve brought a friend with me who is eager to meet you and offer you a business proposition.”
“Really? Who might this friend be?”
Sloane forged on, not entirely certain he should do this at all, but he needed to settle accounts with Lark. He needed Marlee to meet Silva and see Bettina with her own eyes. “Lady Marlee Arden.”
The color left the pirate’s face. “Arden? Is she related to Lark Arden?”
“Yes, from what I understand she’s the widow of his cousin. And she’s very wealthy, willing to part with a fortune to earn your goodwill.”
“What could I possibly offer her in exchange for this fortune?”
“Lady Bettina.”
Manuel considered Sloane with a jaundiced eye. “I think you better tell me what this is all about, amigo, and where you fit into this plan.”
Sloane lifted his cup in a tribute to Silva. No wonder Lark hadn’t been able to best this crafty sea fox. The man always anticipated another’s angle before making any sort of a move.
~
“There won’t be any trouble, will there?” Marlee asked Sloane from the inside of Silva’s richly appointed carriage. “I’m so nervous about all of this.”
Sloane patted her hand. “If there was going to be trouble, do you think we’d be riding in Silva’s very own carriage and going to his home? Do you think I’d place you in danger, Marlee? I swear I wouldn’t.”
“I hope I can trust you,” she said and looked unabashedly into his eyes.
“You can,” he assured her in all solemnity. “I won’t allow Silva to harm you.”
Somehow she believed him.
From the moment Sloane had returned to the ship and told her to dress for her audience with the notorious Manuel Silva, her stomach had been fluttering as if a butterfly had taken up residence. The gown she’d chosen was a deep wine-colored silk with tiny green bows on the sleeves to match the satin underskirt. She’d worn her hair atop her head, threading the curls with a green ribbon. She’d felt she looked fine except for the low bodice of the gown, so she’d worn the gold locket to draw attention away from her breasts. She knew she must hope Silva found her attractive enough to release Lark’s friend—but not too attractive.
“Smile, Marlee. You look like you’re going to be gobbled up by a troll.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head at Sloane, “only a pirate.”
~
Marlee found that Manuel Silva wasn’t the fearsome dragon she’d expected. He was still a handsome and robust man for his forty years, and though he wore a tiny gold earring in his ear, she wasn’t frightened of him. His manners were impeccable, his bearing was kingly. She couldn’t believe the horrible stories she’d heard about him from Lark. But she hadn’t been on Lark’s ship when Silva had blown it to bits and kidnapped Lark’s friend. Perhaps there was an evil side to the well-dressed and polite pirate. But at the moment, he was doing his best to be most charming—and succeeding.
He took her hand and politely kissed it. “May I say, Lady Arden, that you are quite beautiful. Sloane didn’t lie to me about that.”
“Thank you, Señor Silva. I appreciate your taking the time to see me.”
“May I offer you a glass of port before supper?” he asked in a honey-smooth voice.
“Er, no, thank you.” Marlee glanced quickly at Sloane who leaned against the door frame. Sloane hadn’t told her they were invited to supper.
“As you wish, my lady.” Manuel poured himself and Sloane a cup of port. He rang a bell and instantly a small, elderly lady appeared. “Please inform Lady Bettina that we shall soon dine,” he told the woman who was dressed all in black, even the mantilla she wore on her gray hair was black. “Is she over her pout yet, Doña Carlotta?”
“Sí, señor. She will soon be dressed and at table.”
“Bueno.” He waved the woman away with a careless hand and turned his attention upon Marlee. “How do you like my home?” he asked.
Marlee appraised the lavish surroundings, finding everything to be strikingly lovely. The house had only two stories, and was set prettily in a garden that was overrun with greenery and the sweet scent of orange trees that were planted outside past the patio doors. The furniture placed in what she’d heard Silva refer to earlier as the “sala,” was heavy in appearance. The chairs were covered in a red brocade material with tiny specks of gold and the divan was upholstered in a dark red velvet, so heavy of material that Marlee grew warm just looking at it. The candelabra on the ceiling illuminated the entire room, and though the furnishings were attractive, the walls seemed swathed in dark, dancing shadows.
“Your house is very nice,” she complimented Silva. She couldn’t help wondering how a pirate could own such a richly appointed house in what seemed to her to be a respectable neighborhood.
“I’m relieved you like it, my lady.” His dark eyes roamed familiarly over her. “Very glad you like it. My wish is only to please you.”
“Why?”
Silva appeared confused by Marlee’s direct question. “I don’t understand, my lady.”
Marlee placed her hands in her lap and looked probingly at the pirate. “Why do you care what I think? Why should you want to please me? I’m not here for a social call, Señor Silva, as you well know.”
“Madre de Dios!” he lowly exclaimed and indicated Sloane with a nod of his head. “Captain Mason was right about you, my lady. You are very direct.” He stroked his beard, thoughtfully assessing her. “To be honest with you, I’m not used to such directness in a woman.”
“I trust you realize why I’ve come to see you.”
“Sí, Sloane told me.”
“Did Sloane also tell you that I’m very wealthy, that I’m willing to pay your
price to release Lark Arden’s friend?”
“He did.”
“Then I shall like to negotiate his release as soon as possible.”
Silva’s eyes danced with merriment, and he took Marlee by the hand and brought her to her feet. “Señora, please dine with me first before we begin such ponderous negotiations. I assure you that the “prisoner” you seek to free is quite comfortable and very happy.”
“I doubt a prisoner is happy, sir,” she replied a bit too heatedly.
“Ah, you wound me with your mistrust, my lady.” Silva laid a hand on his chest and heaved a sigh. “Assure Lady Arden,” he said to Sloane, “that I am a trustworthy fellow.”
“He’s trustworthy,” Sloane snapped out, but he was scowling darkly.
Those were the first words that Sloane Mason had spoken since she’d been introduced to the wily Silva. Marlee wondered why Sloane had been silent for so long, why suddenly she felt something was amiss. As the pirate led her into the dining room, she was all too aware that the amused smirk on Silva’s face bode nothing good.
~
They were seated at the dining table. The soft glow from the candles lent a softness to the room, a mellowness which Marlee didn’t feel. Her insides churned with a slow, steady thread of fear. She tried to convince herself that she was overreacting, that the stories concerning Silva had affected her judgment of the man. There was nothing evil about him, unless one could say the gold earring was daunting, that the way his dark-eyed gaze devoured her was unsettling. But she’d been devoured by another man with ebony eyes and had liked that immensely. This was different and more unnerving than even Sloane’s lustful looks.
Sloane. He was no help at all to her. She’d hoped that he’d somehow champion her cause, but now she was under the odd impression that he was in league with Silva. They were too chummy for Marlee’s liking. She remembered things Sloane had said about the man—their mutual respect for each other. The old saying “Birds of a feather fly together” came to mind about these two.
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