Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides)

by Vinet, Lynette

  Nervously she fingered the locket. Had she placed her trust in the wrong place?

  “My lady, you aren’t eating your turtle soup,” Silva admonished lightly. “My cook shall think you don’t like it.”

  “It’s very tasty,” she quickly assured Silva. “I just don’t seem to have much of an appetite.”

  “Ah, I think you’ve been too long among sailors and poor food,” he observed with a sly smile. “After you’re in Saint Augustine for a while and eat only the best, your appetite will improve.”

  “But I don’t plan to be here for very long—” Marlee began but was cut off by Silva’s impatient ringing of a small bell. The summons was immediately answered by the tiny, black-clad woman who’d appeared in the sala earlier.

  “Doña Carlotta, where is Lady Bettina?” he harshly asked the woman who seemed to cower and grow smaller with each syllable he uttered. “Her soup is growing cold and she has yet to grace us with her presence.”

  “I don’t know, señor. I told her you were expecting her but she—”

  “Leave Doña Carlotta alone, Manuel. I’m here.” The voice which broke into the old woman’s words was lyrical and soft. All eyes turned on the beautiful auburn-haired woman who seemed to glide into the dining room. Dressed in a gold and green satin gown, her brilliant and flawless smile rivaled the diamond and emerald-studded choker at her neck. She was clearly one of the most breathtakingly beautiful women Marlee had ever seen. Apparently Sloane thought so, too, for his enraptured gaze never left the woman. Marlee watched her, too, for a different reason. She couldn’t help but wonder why the woman seemed so familiar to her.

  Manuel and Sloane rose in unison. As Manuel helped her to her seat, the woman glanced at Marlee for only a second before smiling warmly at Manuel. “You’re just too sweet to me, my love,” she endearingly murmured and patted the pirate’s hand.

  The woman was English. Marlee realized it almost immediately. Why was an Englishwoman living under Silva’s roof?

  “May I present Lady Bettina Gilbert to you.” Silva spoke to Marlee and Sloane. He introduced Sloane to Lady Bettina first, something Marlee thought was incredibly rude, but finally he said to Bettina, “And may I present to you, my dear, the Baroness of Arden, the Lady Marlee Arden.”

  Bettina’s dazzling smile diminished and she played with the choker. “Arden, did you say?”

  “Yes, your ladyship,” Marlee spoke up.

  The woman’s face was very pale now, and Marlee wondered if she might be ill. “Are you related to the Ardens of Virginia? I—I knew some of them once—through my father,” she hurriedly amended.

  “I’m the widow of Lord Richard Arden of Cornwall. He was related to the Arden family of Virginia.” Marlee saw no reason to mention her relationship to Lark. Bettina didn’t need to know anything about that.

  “I see,” Bettina said, almost in relief, and placed the napkin in her lap. “Excuse my tardiness. Shall we dine now? I trust Cook has outdone herself this time. The soup smells delicious.

  As the four people dined on turtle soup and the most succulent chicken dish Marlee had ever eaten, the room grew quiet, almost too quiet for Marlee’s liking. After a brief spell of silence, Manuel lifted his cup of wine in Marlee’s direction. “To you, Lady Arden, one of the most beautiful women to grace my humble table. May our business together bring success to both of us.”

  Bettina’s sharp eyes took in the way Silva looked at Marlee and the gracious way she’d acknowledged the toast.

  Sloane Mason smirked, and she’d have sworn whatever amused him so much concerned her—and Marlee Arden. She didn’t care for the way Silva constantly included the brunette in conversation, taking pains to be gallant. She’d been wooed in the very same way not too long ago. Was Silva about to displace her in his affections and his home with Marlee Arden?

  Her mouth hardened into a very unpleasant and hard-looking line. She wouldn’t allow this woman to take her place in Silva’s bed. Manuel was all that she had. She couldn’t return to Bermuda, now that he’d thoroughly debauched her. There would be too much speculation, too many rumors to live down. No one would accept her if the truth of what happened aboard Silva’s ship ever was told. Being turned over to a band of pirates was information she never wanted anyone in polite circles to know—but if the news that she’d enjoyed every second of the orgy ever got out, she’d be ruined for life. No one would accept her—not even her own parents or other family members. She had no alternative but to remain on Saint Augustine with Manuel as his mistress—or his wife if he’d consent to wed her.

  And no simpering innocent was going to ruin her life.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  “Now we shall discuss the release of Captain Arden’s friend,” Manuel Silva said and puffed on a cheroot. His sharp-eyed glance encompassed Marlee who demurely sat in the sala and sipped a glass of port. The meal had progressed pleasantly enough, but the knots in Marlee’s stomach tightened when the pirate had insisted their conversation be a private one. The last time she’d seen Sloane he’d been leading Lady Bettina into the garden for a stroll.

  She was alone without a soul to help her. She must keep her wits about her.

  “My offer is a generous one.” Marlee decided not to mince words or waste time. She wanted this issue settled so she could leave St. Augustine and wait for Lark’s return on New Providence.

  “I’m certain it is, but what if my price is too high?”

  “I trust you’ll be reasonable, Señor Silva, and understand that the money will be sent to you as soon as my solicitor in England is notified.”

  “Ah, that is most disturbing. I had assumed the money was near at hand.”

  His words upset her. Perhaps he wouldn’t release Lark’s friend now. “I had hoped you’d understand my situation and would wait for the money to be sent to you. You have my word on this, señor.”

  “Call me Manuel, please.” He grinned wolfishly at her and settled himself familiarly beside her on the divan. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you,” he said and gently stroked the back of her hand which she instantly drew away. He didn’t seem upset by her action, seeming to half expect it. “But you must realize that I don’t understand your situation, as you say, and I can’t be certain that I’ll receive the money. You see, I don’t trust the English.” He blew a smoke ring and leaned against the cushions.

  This wasn’t going as she’d planned. Nervously, she licked her lips. “You can trust me—Manuel.”

  “Manuel is it? You may not be as innocent as I thought, for you’re playing games with me now. But I’m used to such things with women. Now tell me what Lark Arden means to you. Why do you go to such lengths to release a person you don’t know? You must realize that I thought I was rid of Arden when I destroyed his ship. Once again, he has surfaced and is obsessed with killing me. I think you don’t truly know Lark Arden. Are you in love with him?”

  “Yes,” she replied, ever honest, perhaps too honest. “I love him and hope we shall be married.”

  “Hmm, I was wrong about you and apologize. You are an innocent, and a very bewitching one.”

  Marlee grew exasperated with his compliments and leering looks. “Sir, I haven’t all night! Do you plan to release Captain Arden’s friend?”

  Amusement glowed on his face as he took another puff and rose to his feet. “Beauty, innocence, and a temper—an intriguing combination in a woman.” He bowed gallantly. “I bend to your will. Arden’s friend shall be released this night.”

  “Oh, Señor Silva, thank you!” She knew she was gushing but she didn’t care. Finally, she’d convinced Silva to release his prisoner. Lark could stop feeling guilty, he could put the vengeance aside. Now they could be married. Marlee’s dearest wish was about to come true.

  “You’re more than lovely, Lady Arden,” he said and kissed her hand. “More than welcome, too.”

  “Shall Lark’s friend come here soon?” Marlee wondered aloud, not the least swayed by his gallantry.<
br />
  “His friend is here already.”

  “Here? In the house?”

  “Sí. Just as soon as she can pack her bags, Lady Bettina can leave with Captain Sloane.”

  Marlee felt as if the wind were knocked out of her. “Lady Bettina is— “ She could barely speak the words but Silva finished the sentence for her.

  “Lark Arden’s friend, my lady, or should I say his fiancée.”

  “That can’t be—I don’t be-believe you,” she stammered like an idiot, standing before Manuel Silva in a daze.

  Manuel shrugged. “It’s the truth. You’re surprised to learn of your lover’s engagement to Bettina.” He made a tsk-tsking sound. “You must be disappointed to learn of it, to realize Arden kept the truth from you. As I said earlier, I don’t trust the English.” Extending his arm to her, he smiled. “Shall we go tell Bettina the happy news?”

  ~

  “Leave? You want me to leave?” Bettina’s shrill cries echoed from the bedroom while Marlee and Sloane waited on the patio. Silva’s monotone syllables followed the outburst, but the air was again punctuated by Bettina’s shrieks. “You bastard! I hate you!”

  “It seems Bettina isn’t pleased about leaving her captor,” Sloane observed wryly and puffed on a cheroot his host had given him.

  Marlee barely heard him. Her mind wasn’t on Sloane or even Bettina’s deafening shouts. All she could think about was what Silva had told her—Bettina was Lark’s fiancée. Emotionally, she felt numbed by the news. At first, she was unable to believe him, wouldn’t believe him. But then things started to make sense to her. Lark had never told her anything about his captured “friend,” not even giving her a name. She’d just assumed the person had been a man, but now she knew the name and felt that a sharp knife had forever etched it upon her heart. Lady Bettina Gilbert.

  She found herself fingering the gold locket and looked at it. The engraved letters, B.G. shone ominously in the torchlight. She didn’t open the locket—she didn’t have to. She knew whose face would be staring at her. A sob threatened to choke her. Lark had hoodwinked her again.

  “You knew about Bettina the whole time,” she found herself saying to Sloane. “You knew what she is—to Lark.”

  “I admit that I did.”

  “And you wanted to hurt me.”

  “Not hurt you,” Sloane hurriedly assured her, “but Lark. I knew his feelings for you and I wanted to hurt him by having you see Bettina and learn the truth for yourself. I hoped you’d turn away from Lark in the process, but I didn’t think Silva would agree to release her to us.” Sloane frowned worriedly.

  “You hate your brother very much, don’t you?”

  Nodding, Sloane carelessly tossed the cheroot into a fish pond. “I hate him more than anybody in this world.”

  Marlee didn’t hide her resentment or her pain. “Should I be grateful that you hate me less? What I feel now is unbearable, horrible—” She ceased speaking as tears welled in her throat.

  Sloane bent down and touched her chin. “I never meant to hurt you so much, only Lark. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. Here, I’m returning this to you.” He took the diamond ring that she’d given to him as payment out of his pocket and placed it in her hand.

  She gazed in repulsed horror at it, feeling as if the fiery diamond burned her flesh. This was Bettina’s ring, the ring Lark had no doubt presented to her to seal their engagement. She didn’t want the blasted thing, hated the sight of it. “I don’t want this!” she heatedly protested and would have said more except Silva suddenly appeared, dragging a disheveled and defiant Bettina behind him.

  “Lady Bettina is ready for her voyage back to the arms of her beloved,” he ground out through a mouth that was formed in the shape of a harsh, taut line. He halted his step in midstride, causing Bettina to nearly fall. Sloane reached out and steadied the furious woman who cast a malevolent eye upon Silva.

  “Hateful bastard. You know very well that Lark won’t want me now!”

  Silva leered down at her. “That is your problem. Perhaps you should have curbed your amorous appetite, hmmm?”

  “God! How I hate you!” Bettina’s fingers curled into claws and she went for his face, but he quickly discerned her intention and grabbed her wrists, holding her at arm’s length.

  “That isn’t what you said this morning, my love.” He thrust her toward Sloane. “Take the whore to her beloved Lark and be done with it.”

  Sloane appeared uncertain, but he took Bettina by the arm and quietly urged her toward the wrought-iron gate at the edge of the courtyard. Marlee began to follow suit, but Silva reached out with a hand that could only be deemed iron-like and held her in place. “Dearest Lady Arden, you’re not going with them.”

  “Yes, I am, señor. Our business is settled here.”

  “Sorry, but no. You’re staying with me.”

  Marlee didn’t know what was happening, why Silva refused to let her leave, but from the rigid expression on his face she knew he wasn’t joking. He meant her to stay. “I’m sorry,” she said and gulped, “but I’m returning to The Merry Bandit with Captain Mason.”

  “And I say you’re not.”

  “Manuel, what are you doing? This wasn’t part of the plan.” Sloane came forward and reached out for Marlee, but Silva bellowed in Spanish and immediately armed guards appeared.

  “Touch Lady Arden again, Sloane, and Bettina will be making her voyage alone.” The ominous threat wasn’t lost on Sloane, and he backed away.

  “You can’t keep her here,” Sloane warned, and there was a frantic, plaintive note in his voice. “Lark will come after her.”

  “Ah, my friend, I hope he does. I hope he does so I can end his miserable life once and for all.”

  Marlee made an aborted attempt at struggling, but Silva was far too strong for her. “I won’t stay here. You can’t keep me here.”

  “I can and I will.” Silva leaned down and whispered hotly in her ear, “I decided that I have enough money, that I should like something else for releasing Bettina to her dear fiancé. Let’s say I have something more pleasurable in mind for my payment—something so pleasant that you shall swoon from the ecstasy of it.”

  “You’re mad,” she proclaimed through pale, trembling lips. “I’ll not stay here. I won’t.”

  She started to push against him, but Silva’s hands tightened painfully on her arms. “Rail against me, my wild English rose, and Mason is a dead man.” His dark eyes glittered with malevolent intent.

  Marlee stopped fighting when she noticed two of the armed men circling Sloane with their swords brandished. No matter that Sloane had withheld the truth from her, she didn’t want him harmed. Her apparent acquiescence delighted Silva, and he smiled a chillingly lewd smile before he spoke to his minions. “Escort Captain Mason and Lady Gilbert to his ship—and make certain he leaves Saint Augustine and doesn’t double back.”

  Sloane shook off one of the men’s hold on his arm. “You’ll pay for this, Manuel. I’ll make certain you do.”

  A malicious smirk turned up the corners of Silva’s mouth as he waved his hand toward his men. “Take them to the ship,” he ordered. Immediately Sloane and Bettina were led away and Marlee was alone with the leering Manuel Silva. “Well, Lady Arden, the hour grows late. I’ll have Doña Carlotta show you to your room.”

  “I won’t be a docile prisoner, I can assure you of that.”

  “Ah, you’re my guest, not a prisoner,” Silva corrected her. “But I’d advise against trying to escape. My men are everywhere.”

  “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand why—”

  Silva cut off Marlee’s sentence with an arm around her waist as he pulled her roughly toward him. “You don’t need to understand my reasons, you need only to obey me.”

  “I won’t obey you,” was her hot declaration. “You don’t own me!”

  “No? I say I do. From this day onward, I own you body and soul, Marlee.” He breathed her name like a warm wind against her cheek
, sending ripples of repulsion through her. “And if you believe your beloved Lark shall rescue you, he won’t. He shall soon have his Bettina again by his side, and you’ll be only a sweet memory. But you’ll be more than that to me, much more.” His hand stroked the side of her breast and he grinned wickedly. ‘I’ll not bother you tonight, but soon, I promise you. Soon you’ll belong to me, my innocent English rose.”

  She couldn’t stop the trembling sensations which wracked her as moments later, Doña Carlotta appeared to lead her through a hallway to a bedroom at the back of the house. The old woman lighted a wall sconce and barely glanced at her. “This is your room, señora. I’ve placed a nightgown on the bed for you. It’s one which my lady Bettina never wore.”

  Marlee barely took in the pretty brocaded coverlet and matching drapes which were closed, barring any moonlight from entering the room. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she willed herself not to cry in front of Doña Carlotta. No doubt the woman thought she was Manuel Silva’s new mistress, that she’d willingly come here. And God help her, she had come to St. Augustine of her own accord. No one had forced her. Nothing had brought her here but her own foolish heart and dreams.

  But no longer would Lark, or any other man, play her for a fool. In her hand she still clutched the diamond ring, a vivid and painful reminder of the woman who’d once worn it and of the man who’d given it to her. She placed it on her trembling finger and peered at the glittering stone for a long time. She’d wear the ring as a reminder of what Lark had done to her. Never would she forget how he’d ruined her life.

  ~

  “Captain Silva awaits your presence in the dining room,” Doña Carlotta informed Marlee the next night.

  “Tell him I’m not hungry,” she told the elderly woman. In reality, Marlee was starving but she wouldn’t give Silva the satisfaction of dining with him.

  Doña Carlotta wrung her hands together. “Please, you must come downstairs to table. You didn’t eat your midday meal, and I don’t wish you to fall ill. He’ll be most displeased with me—if you get sick.”