Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides)

by Vinet, Lynette

  Manuel didn’t reply. He looked nothing like the polished pirate she’d come to know and hate. His hair was wildly tousled, his black shirt was torn and smelled of gunpowder from the fray above deck. There was something feral and vicious in the way he looked at her, almost as if he were a hunted animal that was now trapped. Stark and vivid fear swept through her. “Leave me here, Manuel. Where are you taking me?”

  “Quiet!” His shout sounded like a growl.

  With Marlee in his arms, Manuel ran out of the cabin like a man possessed by inner demons. In the dark passageway, they nearly collided with Rosalina whose dark eyes were round and flecked with terror. She clutched at Silva’s arm. “Are you boarding the sloop, Manuel? Take me with you, sí, take me with you! I don’t want to be at the mercy of the English. They’ll kill me, I know they will!”

  Another volley hit the brigantine, knocking Manuel against the wall. Rosalina fell to the floor, her frightened screams sliced the air. Her hands grabbed him around the ankle, nearly tripping him. “Take me with you, Manuel! Please don’t leave me here to die!”

  Manuel shook her hands off of him. He deliberately kicked out at her and his booted foot hit her squarely in the face. She squealed in pain and doubled over. “Never touch me, puta! I don’t care what happens to you. Get out of my way!”

  Marlee’s horrified gaze saw the blood seeping from between the fingers Rosalina held against her face. And that was the last time she ever laid eyes upon the woman.

  They burst through the door that led onto the deck. A dark, ghostly haze covered everything, obscuring visibility. The acrid smell of gunpowder wafted over them. The pirate crew ran in uncontrolled abandon, no longer able to douse the small fires that had started in different portions of the ship. Bright flames wantonly slithered like an orange snake toward the powder room door. “Madre de Dios, we’ve got to get to the sloop before this ship blows up.” Manuel coughed hoarsely and hurried along the deck, dodging the panicked members of his crew.

  Marlee’s eyes burned, her throat felt raw, and the smoke hung so heavily in the air that she was unable to draw a good breath. Out of the black mist, the sloop appeared.

  The men on the sloop stood near the railing and ran a boarding plank between the sloop and the brigantine. The pirates pressed forward in fear of being left aboard the burning brigantine. A pistol shot deafeningly rang out, stalling the brigantine’s crew. “The captain and his lady board first!” shouted Diego from the sloop. “I’ll shoot any man who tries to go before them.”

  “Sí, sí, hurry before the ship explodes!” Renaldo hysterically cried. The other pirates raised their voices in panic but moved aside for Manuel. He was, after all, their trusted captain.

  Manuel nimbly spanned the distance with Marlee in his arms. Before she was aware of it, they were safely on the sloop. “Push the boarding plank into the ocean, even if someone is trying to come across,” he commanded Diego and the sloop’s crewmen who clustered around him for instructions. “There’s no time to save anyone. Set sail now!”

  Marlee heard the enraged shouts from the brigantine, followed by pleading cries. Manuel sat her on a crate while he took over as captain of the sloop. In no time they were a distance away from the brigantine but she could still make out the figures of people running on deck, jumping into the ocean to escape the searing flames.

  Her heart contracted in pity for them. No matter that they were scurvy pirates, they were still human beings, and Manuel had abandoned them. “You should have helped them,” she coldly proclaimed to Manuel when he came to stand beside her. “You’re a hateful monster—”

  Marlee’s words were interrupted by the distressingly loud explosion of the brigantine. Scarlet and orange flames turned the ocean into a furnace and lit the sky with golden drops of fire. Debris flew in every direction and haphazardly tumbled to litter the water’s surface.

  “Oh, God!” was all Marlee could say and clutched her throat in absolute horror.

  “Marlee, you’re wrong about me,” he said with such control over his facial features that he might have been a statue. “If I were a monster, as you said, then I’d have left you to burn in that inferno. Regard yourself as lucky that I love you.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes when she steeled herself to remove her gaze from the ocean and look at this spawn of the devil. “Because of your—perverted love—I was taken on board the brigantine in the first place. You don’t know anything about love, Manuel, nothing about love.”

  “And I suppose you’ll tell me that Arden knew a great deal about love,” he vindictively snapped at her. “In time you’ll forget the bastard.”

  “No, I won’t. Lark’s coming to rescue me.”

  “And how can you be so certain of that? We’ve outrun the English navy ships, soon we’ll be home in Saint Augustine.”

  “I doubt that,” she said softly as she riveted her sapphire gaze on the swelling ocean and the familiar ship coming toward them at an angle, “because Lark is already here.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Manuel screamed at the top of his lungs to his crew, “Man the cannons! Blow that son of a bitch out of the water!” The pirates quickly took their positions, their steady gazes trained on the oncoming ship. Taking a spot on the bridge, Manuel shouted, “Fire!”

  The deafening roar from three cannons reverberated in Marlee’s ears. Rising to her feet, she went to the railing and breathed a relieved sigh to see that Her Ladyship hadn’t been hit but was still slicing rapidly through the silver-tipped waves. Unexpectedly a cannonball from Her Ladyship ripped through the sloop’s rigging. Two more volleys quickly followed, one finding its mark in the square topsail that gave the sloop an extra measure of speed; the force of the other volley struck the mast, causing it to break in two and tumble into the churning waters. Without sails to catch the wind, Manuel’s sloop was doomed.

  Manuel roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the railing. He pulled her along the deck and through a doorway which led to the cabins below. Though she struggled, Marlee was still too weak and soon found herself thrust into a dark room without a window of any kind. “You’ll remain here until the fight is over,” Manuel proclaimed and before she could open her mouth to protest, the door was slammed shut. As on the brigantine, the bar was slipped into place. God, how she hated that hollow, clanking sound!

  “Open the door!” she yelled but to no avail. No one would help her. She’d be forced to stay in this dark room, listening to the fracas above, until someone let her out. But who would it be— Manuel—or Lark?

  ~

  Destroying the sloop’s rigging presented Lark with the opportunity he needed to capture Manuel Silva. Without the sails for wind power, the sloop slowed to a crawl. Still, the pirates fired, but Her Ladyship steered by Holcombe, eluded the volleys. Her Ladyship finally docked beside the sloop, and within moments, the military crew had laid out the running planks and swarmed aboard Manuel’s sloop.

  A bloody battle ensued between Manuel’s pirates and the navy personnel with Lark’s crew fighting alongside. The Spanish pirates were clearly outnumbered but fought like wounded tigers. Lark was bending over a pirate whom he’d just knifed when Diego loomed over him. “Ah, English dog, I shall now finish you off,” Diego espoused with a wicked grin and brandished the jagged-edged knife that Lark would never forget. Diego came at him, but Lark threw himself away from the blade’s thrust. Lark kicked out with his right foot and purposely tripped Diego. The pirate landed on the deck, dropping his knife. In blind panic, Diego reached for it, but Lark was quicker. Within the space of two heartbeats, Lark had retrieved the knife and stuck it into Diego’s chest, instantly killing him.

  Lark’s gaze swept over the deck. His crew and the military had successfully captured or killed all of Silva’s men. But where was Manuel Silva?

  “The sloop is ours,” Lieutenant Monroe boasted to Lark. “I’d say we’ve a done a damn good job! The admiral will be well pleased. I wouldn’t be surp
rised if I received a promotion.”

  Lark felt certain that Monroe would take all of the credit for the mission himself, but Lark didn’t care. He was worried about Marlee. And Silva. Where was that infernal blackguard?

  “Arden!” Lark heard his name being shouted from the bridge and looked up to find the answer to his question. Manuel Silva stood with a sword in his hand and stared down at him in what could only be amusement. “The time has come to end our differences, señor. Just you and I. No one else.”

  “Why don’t you just surrender, Silva!” Monroe cried. “You’re outnumbered and haven’t a chance at escape.”

  “Ah, but that would take the enjoyment out of things, señor.”

  Lark understood what Silva was doing. The man knew the battle was lost, that he’d be tried and hung, in an English court as a pirate. Silva, for all his evil doings, was a proud man and wished to die the way he had lived—by the sword. Lark felt that even a person as despicable as Silva deserved to die valiantly. Lark withdrew his sword from the sheath at his side. “Just the two of us, Silva.”

  “Bueno, señor.” Silva flexed his sword and jumped from the bridge to land on his feet before Lark and flashed a grin. “Now the real battle begins.”

  Silva circled Lark, thrusting then withdrawing, almost as if he toyed with Lark. When he again thrust forward, their swords met in a hollow, clanking sound. Silva retreated then sidestepped Lark’s parry. Lark drew back to wait for Silva’s next thrust. So far, they’d been barely contacting each other, but suddenly Silva thrust viciously forward, engaging Lark’s sword. All of the pirate’s strength flowed into the sword, causing Lark to use equal force to hold him off. In a sudden movement Silva pushed Lark against the railing, forcing Lark to push back with all of his strength. But instead of Silva continuing the assault, he dropped his sword and purposely impaled himself upon Lark’s weapon.

  Staggering backward, Silva fell onto the deck. The sword protruded from his abdomen, his face was contorted in agony. Lark bent over him when he saw Manuel’s mouth move, each whispered syllable further depleted his strength. “I—placed—Marlee—in a—cabin. I did not want her to—see me—die. You have won—señor.” He said nothing else, his eyes stared unseeingly at the sky.

  Lark wasted no time after that. Striding quickly away, he went below deck and kicked open every door in his search for Marlee. Finally, he came to a door that was barred.

  Marlee froze in the darkness, hearing the unyielding bar give way. Her heart thumped hard and fast, her pulses raced. God, what if Lark had been killed? What if Manuel opened the door? She’d rather die than be at Silva’s mercy again.

  The door flew opened. She blinked, unable to determine who was silhouetted in the doorway. “Marlee, are you in here?”

  “Lark!”

  Rushing toward him, she found herself enfolded in his loving embrace. Happy tears fell onto her cheeks as she threw her arms around his neck. “I knew you’d come!” she cried.

  Lark squeezed her tightly to him and tenderly kissed her. “And how did you know that?”

  “Because I trust you, I’ll trust you forever.”

  Out of all the things she could have said to Lark, that meant the most to him and for a few seconds, he was unable to speak. Finally, he whispered huskily in her ear, “Come on, love, we’re going home.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Arden’s Grove Plantation

  Along the James River, Virginia

  “You’re the most beautiful bride, my dear, I’m so pleased that Lark is marrying you. Already I love you like a daughter.” Emma Arden, Lark’s mother, wiped the joyful tears from her eyes with the edge of her handkerchief and embraced Marlee. “I wish you every happiness.”

  Marlee kissed Emma’s unlined cheek and offered a tremulous smile. “I’m happy already. Thank you so much for accepting me into your home—”

  “This is your home, too,” Emma kindly reminded Marlee. “Now take a look in the mirror and see how perfectly beautiful you are.”

  Marlee faced the cheval mirror and surveyed her reflection. The yellow-ribbed silk gown in which she’d chosen to be married was embroidered with bright blue flowers, the underskirt was white satin. The square bodice fit tightly but was modestly cut; the elbow-length sleeves were edged in layers of white lace that ended at her wrists. Sapphire combs to match her eye color pulled up the sides of her hair while long dark tresses flowed down her back in a riot of soft curls. She silently marveled at how elaborate was this wedding gown from the one she’d worn the day she’d married Richard Arden. Lark had commissioned Williamsburg’s finest seamstress to design this dress especially for her, and the gown fit perfectly—almost perfectly—she decided and realized that the bodice and waist were a bit snug. Smiling a secret smile, she turned to Emma. “I’m a bit nervous.”

  Emma laughed, her blondish curls bobbing in her enthusiasm. “No more so than Lark. I’ve never seen him so worked up. All morning he’s been checking the clock in the entrance hall, counting the hours until you walk down the staircase to become his wife. He loves you so much, Marlee, so very much.”

  “I know, and I love him,” Marlee dreamily declared.

  A light tap sounded on Marlee’s bedroom door which was partly ajar. Marlee gasped in surprise to see Barbara poking her head into the room. “May I come in?” she asked.

  “Barbara! My goodness, what are you doing here?” Marlee rushed to her cousin and the two young women embraced, both laughing and crying at the same time.

  “Simon and I arrived yesterday morning,” Barbara explained through the laughter and tears. “We’ve been staying at his father’s home. Mrs. Arden was visiting when we arrived, so she already knew I was here and wanted to surprise you. You’ve no idea how thrilled I was to learn you were all right and going to marry Lord Arden. I’ve been so worried about you.”

  “I can keep a secret, Marlee, so you see what a good mother-in-law I shall be.” Emma chuckled and smoothed down the satin stomacher on the front of her gown. “Now, ladies, I’ll leave you two alone while I see to our guests, but don’t be too long up here,” she advised Marlee with a merry wink “because I’ve got an eager son downstairs who can’t wait to marry you.”

  After Emma had gone, Marlee confided to Barbara, “It’s odd but I already feel married to Lark. I’ve felt that way from the first moment I saw him—probably because I thought he was my husband already.”

  “I understand, you believed yourself to be married. When Simon told me how Lark Arden had deceived you, I was beside myself,” confessed Barbara. “I thought Arden was a horrible person, but Simon assured me that you’d be safe in Arden’s care and it, seems he was right. We didn’t know if you’d be here in Virginia. Simon wanted me to meet his father, but imagine our surprise when we arrived at Mr. Oliver’s and Mrs. Arden told us that you and Lark were being married. I was stunned to say the least, but Simon said you and Lark owe your happiness to him.”

  Marlee nodded and clasped Barbara’s hand. “Yes, we do. If not for Simon putting me on Lark’s ship after I’d fallen, I wouldn’t be marrying him at all. It’s strange how things work out sometimes.”

  Barbara giggled. “Speaking of marriage, I’ve some news about Daphne. She and Mr. Carpenter are betrothed.”

  “Daphne—and Hollins Carpenter!”

  “Yes. It seems that Mr. Carpenter has always been in love with her. When Daphne and my parents arrived at ArdenManor for my wedding, Mr. Carpenter was still in residence at the time. Well,” Barbara animatedly continued, “Daphne suddenly discovered she cared for him. It’s really charming to see them together, they have eyes for only each other, and believe it or not, Daphne is so sweet to be around now. She’s like a different person, never has an unkind thing to say to anyone.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I swear it’s the truth. Mother is thrilled about the engagement, especially since she and Father have temporarily moved into ArdenManor with Hollins overseeing the estate
while Simon and I are visiting his family in Virginia.”

  “I’m pleased for all of you. My marriage did profit my family but in ways I least expected.” Marlee didn’t mind if the McBrides stayed on at the estate forever. Since the estate legally belonged to her, she had already decided to write and ask Simon if he’d live permanently at Arden Manor and run the place. Since he was now in Virginia, she’d personally speak to him about the matter. She wanted to keep the estate in a trust for the children she and Lark would have one day—a day not too far off.

  The clock in the foyer chimed the hour. She clutched Barbara’s arm. “It’s time and—I just realized I don’t have someone to stand up for me. Oh, Barbara, will you please—”

  “I’d be honored, Marlee,” was Barbara’s calm response.

  Minutes later, Marlee floated down the wide, walnut staircase to the entrance hall and then into the large parlor that faced the swiftly moving James River outside. The invited guests consisted of family members and longtime friends of the Ardens. Out of the corner of Marlee’s eyes, she spotted Simon, who looked more handsome than ever. But once again, when she laid eyes on Lark who wore a burnished-colored jacket and trousers that matched the autumn leaves which even now drifted to the ground, she knew no man could ever be as handsome or hold a place so dear in her heart. She loved him with her whole soul.

  With their hands clasped in each other’s, Lark and Marlee stood before the minister and were married.

  ~

  That evening they were alone in the house. Emma had accompanied Barbara and Simon to the Olivers’ plantation where she’d visit for a few days. The servants discreetly stayed away, but were in answering distance of a bell that was connected from the house to the servant quarters.

  Lark and Marlee stood on the front veranda of the red brick mansion. Their gazes followed the autumn-hued landscape that softly swept down to the James River. The setting sun reflected various shades of oranges, reds, and lavenders onto the watery surface. “It’s beautiful here,” she whispered and put her arms around his waist. “For the rest of my life I’ll remember this moment. I’ll remember how cool the wind feels upon my face, how the river looks right now, and how much I love you.” She lifted her hand and gently pushed a wayward lock from his forehead.