“Then this is the first time we’ll be working together for a common good,” Sloane wryly observed.
Lark bent down to his brother. “Aye, it is, and the last.”
~
Silva’s gaudy red carriage clip-clopped along the waterfront and entered the stone city gate of St. Augustine. The carriage meandered through the narrow streets that contained two-story homes whose wrought-iron balconies hung precariously overhead. Finally, the driver stopped at the open-air market and Silva helped Doña Carlotta and then Marlee from the conveyance. He smiled as he kept her small hand in his. “I have great hopes of bringing you to my bed this night. I’ve waited a long time for you, and I grow weary waiting to break down your resistance. Perhaps another bauble or two will cause you to look more appreciatively at me. Besides, your injury has healed. I won’t wait forever.”
Silva had made a game of wooing her. Within the last three weeks Silva had presented her with elaborate gowns and jewels so breathtakingly beautiful that any other woman would have succumbed and gone willingly to Silva’s bed. Marlee, however, wasn’t just any woman, and it appeared Silva was beginning to realize she couldn’t be bought with trinkets no matter how beautiful and expensive. She doubted that Silva had paid one peso for any of the items he’d given her, no doubt having pilfered everything from some doomed ship.
“Do what you want,” she said without emotion in her voice or color in her cheeks.
“Ah, well, let me tell you what I wish to do.” Silva whispered something so extremely obscene into her ear that Marlee blushed all of the way to her hairline, delighting Silva with her reaction. “I knew that would make you blush,” he delightedly observed, but his face darkened for an instant, “I want more than a blush of embarrassment to cover your body. I want your body to be consumed with the heat of passion—and tonight, tonight it shall be so. Now tell me what you wish and I shall buy it for you.”
Marlee hid her trembling hands within the folds of the silk skirt of her gown. “I—I should like an orange.”
“That is all?” Silva appeared dumbfounded by her request.
“Yes.”
“A strange woman you are, but I suppose that is because you’re English.” He took her arm and led her to a stall where an old lady with a black mantilla on her head was selling fruits to Doña Carlotta; an old man, who wore a large white-brimmed hat that covered his face, was bending over a crate of the sweet-smelling fruits. The orange was duly purchased and presented to Marlee who bit into the fruit’s succulent flesh. When a bit of juice ran down her chin, Manuel hurried to wipe it away with his thumb.
A strange, hot glint enveloped his eyes. “Sí, tonight you shall be mine at last.”
She wanted to die, ached to wither away and die right there. Silva escorted her to the carriage and they headed back to the house with Doña Carlotta.
The old man stood up from his task and sharp eyes would have noticed he wasn’t old at all. He glanced at the elderly woman who watched the carriage depart. “Did she take the potion?” the man asked her.
The woman nodded briskly. “Sí, señor. My former mistress, Doña Carlotta, hates Silva. She’ll make certain that he never touches the English lady. Rest easy, señor, your lady is safe for tonight.”
~
Silva watched Marlee like a vulture who waits for its prey to die. He licked his lips at the way she daintily consumed her supper. His loins hardened at the thought of what ecstasy awaited him. And Dios, how long he had waited to bed this woman! With his other women, especially with Bettina, there had been no wooing, no waiting. Wooing a woman was something unusual to him, but he found he liked it—to a point. Marlee had been under his roof for more than three weeks and still he hadn’t done more than kiss her a few times. Each time, however, she’d stiffened like a plank and been as responsive as one. He’d grown tired waiting for her reserve to break. Tonight, she’d be his. He’d make her his.
“Is the fish to your liking?” he asked and flashed her a wolfish smile that caused her insides to quake.
“Delicious,” she lied. She couldn’t taste anything at the moment because she knew what Silva planned for her.
“Did you notice the pretty night thing that Doña Carlotta laid out for you? I hope you like it.”
She nodded, because she’d seen the transparent piece of gossamer quite clearly. There was no mistaking the fact that Silva wanted her to model it for him. “Bueno, but don’t get too attached to it for it won’t cover your beautiful body for long, I assure you.”
She wanted to retch, literally ached to run to the chamber pot, but she wouldn’t allow Silva to see how truly repulsed she was by him and his lewd overtures. “You’ve thought of everything,” she said and her sarcasm wasn’t lost on the man.
“Not everything, almost, however. You see, I want to marry you, Marlee. That’s why I want you to accept me, to come willingly to me. But since you won’t, then I shall force the matter.”
Marlee dropped her fork and shook her head. “You can’t mean that! I won’t marry you or come to you like some chastised puppy with its head bowed. I don’t love you!”
“I didn’t expect you to, but you’re the perfect choice for my wife, to bear me sons. Love can come later; for now you’re going to let me bed you. To be honest, love doesn’t have to enter into it.” He puffed on a cheroot and blew a smoke ring, then ordered Doña Carlotta to see that his wine cup was refilled. The woman, who was hovering near the sideboard, quickly came forward and took the cup. Neither Marlee nor Silva saw her open the top of the ring she wore on her index finger and empty a white powder which quickly dissolved into the wine’s contents. Silva hastily downed the wine after she’d placed it on the table in front of him. With a harsh voice, he ordered the old lady out of the room and impaled Marlee with a lascivious expression.
“You’re different from that other one,” he praised in a voice which sounded a bit slurred. Marlee knew he was speaking about Bettina and clutched at the table’s edge. She hated thinking about Bettina, detested her own imaginings about what she and Lark must be doing, since they’d been so happily reunited. Were they married now? She felt certain they were. Lark loved Bettina a great deal to risk masquerading as another woman’s husband to get the money to outfit a ship to rescue her. Did Bettina know how lucky she was? Suddenly she was routed from her torturous memories by the sound of Silva hitting the table with his fist. “Stop thinking about Lark Arden when you’re with me!” he commanded. “I know you’re thinking about him.”
It wouldn’t do any good to lie to him. “Yes, I was thinking about Lark.”
“You love him, don’t you?” His voice sounded unusually slurred, very unlike Silva, who always seemed to be in control of his physical faculties.
“What I feel is none of your concern,” she said, then wished she hadn’t said anything for Silva rose unsteadily to his feet and advanced toward her.
Without a warning, he viciously pushed back her chair until she nearly fell but he grabbed her arm and hauled her against him. “I’ve given you plenty of time, much more than I’ve ever given any woman. I’ve given you clothes and jewels, things you refuse to wear. So, wear nothing then!” He ripped open the front of her dress until her chemise-clad breasts were exposed to him. She pushed at him, clawing at him when he lifted her from her feet. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Silva carried her toward the bedroom where Bettina had been willingly seduced by him.
He threw her onto the bed and laid atop her, tearing the very clothes from her body. “Manuel, stop, stop!” But Manuel didn’t hear her. All he saw was her beautiful body, the way her full breasts enticed him, the way her shapely thighs kicked out at him. This was a woman worth keeping, no matter how she fought him. In fact, her fighting only made his lust the more potent.
“Quiet,” he groaned into her ear and began kissing her lips, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Marlee was his now, his to do whatever he wanted. Her struggles beneath him enflamed him further and there was only one thing to
do. One way to end his torment.
Silva undid the buttons on his trousers.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Marlee pummeled Silva’s chest with her clenched fists. “Don’t,” he growled savagely against her ear and grabbed her wrists. Frustrated tears streamed freely down her cheeks, and she knew it was a matter of seconds before he removed his pants. She was prepared to bite and claw, anything to prevent him from attacking her. “Lie—still,” he whispered so quietly that Marlee could barely hear him, but she felt his weight push her deeper into the mattress, making her unable to kick out or further defend herself. His head lowered to hers and she thought he was going to kiss her, but his lips missed their target. His face fell onto her breasts.
She stiffened, waiting for him to continue the assault, but Manuel lay still, so still that she wondered if he had died. But his snores convinced her that he was asleep.
“Manuel?” Her voice was hesitant. She was fearful to move, afraid he’d waken, but his weight was crushing her and cutting off her oxygen. Gaining no response, she waited and when his hold upon her grew slack, she freed her hands.
Attempting to push him from her was a hard task. In his stupor he seemed to weigh twice as much, but soon he rolled over of his own accord onto the mattress. She waited and held her breath. When he didn’t waken, she hurriedly scampered off of the bed and began to pull on a dressing gown when Doña Carlotta suddenly appeared.
The old woman entered the room and peered closely at the sleeping pirate. When she turned to face Marlee, she was smiling broadly. “The sleeping powder worked well. He should sleep for many hours and when he wakens he’ll think it was the wine.”
Marlee was disbelieving. “You drugged him?”
“Sí” the old lady said with pride in her voice.
Marlee impetuously hugged Doña Carlotta. “Thank you so much, so much.” She started to cry.
“Now, now, don’t take on so, señora. But we must make our plan of escape.”
“Yes, yes,” she readily agreed and shivered at the sight of the tattered gown on the floor. “I want to get out of here—before—he wakes. I’ll escape tonight.”
“No, not tonight. You can’t get past Silva’s guards. Tomorrow night is the agreed-upon time.”
“Agreed-upon time? What are you talking about?” Marlee wondered if Doña Carlotta understood how important it was for her to leave Saint Augustine.
The old woman placed a finger to her lips and she took Marlee’s hand to lead her out of the bedroom and into the dining room where she poured Marlee a fortifying cup of wine. “Drink this and listen to what I have to say,” Doña Carlotta seriously advised her charge. “Someone is helping you. My former servant who works at the fruit stand gave me the powder for Silva’s drink. She received it from an Englishman who is here on Saint Augustine and will take you to safety.”
Marlee’s heart thumped hard. An Englishman? Could it be Lark? She discounted the thought as quickly as it came to her. Lark was busy with his Bettina by now. The Englishman must be Sloane. “When will he free me?”
“Tomorrow night there is a big celebration at the Castillo de San Marcos, given by the governor. Perhaps Silva mentioned this to you.”
Marlee nodded. He’d said something about a party and that she must wear her most beautiful gown and the rubies which Silva had given her, but she’d been unconcerned about the whole affair. Now, she listened eagerly to Doña Carlotta who said, “I shall go with you as duenna and I’ll make certain you escape. With all of the people and excitement, Silva shall be caught off guard. But you must do exactly as I tell you.”
“I’ll do anything,” Marlee vowed. “I’d even swim the distance to New Providence to get away from here.”
Doña Carlotta laughed, her eyes took on a dreamy quality. “That won’t be necessary for a big ship is waiting to spirit you into the arms of your beloved. How romantic for you!”
Marlee didn’t reply. She’d do whatever was necessary to escape from Silva, but Doña Carlotta was wrong. No arms were waiting to enfold her, because she had no beloved. He belonged to Lady Bettina Gilbert.
~
Silva cast an appreciative eye over Marlee as she descended from the carriage in front of the imposing Castillo de San Marcos. The stone walls of the fort had been built one hundred and sixty years before to keep out invaders and was still used for that purpose. But this night there was a glittering celebration in honor of the city’s founding and the fort was lit by torches which reflected the dazzling array of jewels worn by the guests. From the corner of his bloodshot eyes, Silva instantly knew that Marlee was the most beautiful of any woman there. She wore an off the shoulder silk gown, a deep ruby red in color, that showed off her alabaster flesh to perfection. The neckline was cut very low in the way Silva preferred, and the ruby pendant that hung between the lush valley of her breasts caused him to lick his lips in anticipation. Somehow he’d passed out the night before—something unusual for he prided himself on holding his liquor—and been unable to finish what his loins ached to do. But tonight when this celebration was over, Marlee would be his, and no amount of fighting on her part would prevent it.
A slight breeze ruffled the white lace mantilla which draped delicately across Marlee’s head. She was swathed in rubies, lace, and silk and didn’t care. All she worried about was escaping from here and counted the hours until midnight. She wondered if Silva could sense her nervousness and if he did, she hoped he thought it was due to the celebration. Doña Carlotta seemed quite calm and gave not the least hint by look or deed that she was the one who had drugged Manuel Silva into oblivion the night before.
If only this were over, Marlee thought and prayed that all would go as planned.
The governor met them as they entered the fort and any thought of escape was forgotten as the man introduced Marlee to his family members and aristocratic Spaniards who could trace their beginnings back to the early days of the city. Pretending an interest she didn’t feel, Marlee smiled brightly. No one made snide comments about her being there with Manuel Silva. It seemed that she was accepted just as Bettina had probably been accepted. No one dared cross Manuel Silva—no one but herself and a poor, defenseless old woman.
The evening passed slowly. Every so often Marlee would glance in Doña Carlotta’s direction, waiting for the sign to begin the escape. As the minutes passed, Marlee’s cheeks grew warmer and she tried to hide her agitation, but Manuel made things worse by watching her so closely that she feared he would read her thoughts and know what she planned. His hand resting familiarly on her waist and his tiny kisses on the nape of her neck were enough to make her bolt. But she stayed the impulse—and waited.
Manuel smiled at the tempting array of food which was set on long tables in the courtyard. Numbers of servants hurried to and from the kitchens, loaded down with trays of foods and wines. “The governor has outdone himself tonight. So much food has left me feeling quite sleepy.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, not hearing him for her mind was on her escape.
“Sí,” he said and bent down to nibble the lobe of her ear, “but it won’t prevent me from finishing what I started last night.”
To hide her repulsion, she sipped her wine and was very grateful that a Spanish matron came to speak with her. Silva stayed near, keeping a protective eye over her, but finally as midnight drew nigh, the governor came over and invited them to accompany him to the firing of the cannons to celebrate the founding of St. Augustine. Silva readily agreed, and as he took Marlee’s arm to lead her up the stone stairway to the top of the fort, Doña Carlotta caught her eye and nodded. This was the signal.
Marlee stumbled on the second step and her wine sloshed over her gown, soaking into the expensive material and staining it. “Oh, my! I’ve ruined my dress.”
Silva took a handkerchief from his top pocket and began wiping the offending stain away, but Marlee shook her head. “It’s only making it worse, Manuel. I’ll have to wash it out somehow.”
Doña Carlotta came forward from the shadows. “I can take the stain out. Follow me, Lady Arden.”
Marlee started after the old lady, but Silva halted her with a claw-like hand on her arm. “I will go with you.”
For a moment Marlee thought he would do just that, but suddenly and like a prayer being answered, the governor called to him to hurry and join him. Silva appeared to be in a quandary about what to do, but he didn’t want to offend the governor since the man allowed him safe haven in the city. He shot Marlee a warning glance. “I’ll be nearby, and if you aren’t by my side in ten minutes, I shall come after you and find you. Then I shall drag you away with me.” He tilted her face up to his. “Ten minutes, no more.”
“Yes, ten minutes,” she said in a breathy voice that belied her fear. She turned and followed Doña Carlotta through the courtyard and down a hallway into the kitchen area where the food was being prepared and then outside a back door into an area where carts waited, loaded down with fruits and vegetables.
“Over here,” Doña Carlotta whispered and hurried to a cart where an old man sat on the wooden-seat, his hands on the reins behind a mule. An older woman stood next to the cart and made urgent gestures with her hands. “This is my former servant,” Carlotta explained to Marlee. “She is the one who has agreed to help you.”
“Thank you,” Marlee said. “And is that your husband?” she nodded to the old man who wore the large-brimmed hat that obscured his face.
“No time for introductions now,” the woman said and barely glanced at the man. She pointed to a large crate that was on the back of the cart, surrounded by fresh produce of all kinds. “Climb into the box and I’ll close the lid,” she ordered. “And no matter what happens, señora, remain quiet. When the driver reaches Matanzas Bay, you’ll be released to your friends.” The woman made the sign of the cross. “Madre de Dios, hurry before Silva comes looking for you.”
Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) Page 20
