by Holt, Cheryl
She climbed from the bed, slipped on her robe, and walked up behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and draped herself across his back.
He had terrible scars marring his skin. They appeared to be stab and gunshot wounds. Whatever his occupation, it was obviously perilous and filled with misfortune.
She laid her cheek on the worst scar, a puckered line that ran from his shoulder to his waist. She’d never asked how it had occurred or what had become of the man who’d inflicted it. She couldn’t imagine Raven blithely enduring such an injury without reacting, and she doubted his assailant was still alive.
Had Raven killed in battle? Was he that violent? She’d seen him with Archie, had witnessed his calm ability to terrorize and maim. Did she care?
The resounding answer was no. She didn’t care.
From the day her parents had died when she was a tiny girl, she’d never felt safe. Not at Bramble Bay, where she’d been a poor orphan, hated by Mildred. Not in her horrid marriage to Archie where he’d been drunk and spiteful.
With Raven, she felt safe. With Raven by her side, nothing bad could transpire. When her life had been a long string of fear and worry, how could she begrudge him any fault? How could she not love him?
He snuggled her close so he could nuzzle her hair, inhaling her scent as if he wanted to be certain he never forgot it.
“What if Mr. Sinclair tells me to leave?”she inquired. “The only place I have to go is to my husband.”
“I’m hoping John will allow you to remain at Bramble Bay.”
“But you don’t know.”
“No. He had intended to let it rot—”
“Bramble Bay? Why take it from Hedley merely to destroy it?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It definitely must be.”
“Before he left, though, I asked him if we could keep it, if we could visit occasionally.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t. I’m supposing I’ll hear more once he rides into the yard.”
“Sarah might have prevailed on him to be kind.”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t count on it. He never listens to women, and he never grows fond. He’ll have had just one use for her.”
“That being sexual relations.”
“Yes.”
“So he’ll dump her here—wrecked and ruined—then he’ll sail off into the sunset?”
“Most likely.”
She studied his dark eyes. “What about you? Will you sail off with him?”
“I go where John goes.”
“Like a faithful dog?”
“Like a loyal and trusted friend. I guard his back.”
“Why are you so devoted?”
“Because he rescued me. He claims I rescued him, but it was the other way around. He made me who I am today—instead of who I might have been.”
“And who was that?”
“No one good, that’s for sure. I was headed for a dreadful end, but he saved me. I’ll always be grateful. I’ll always follow him and do as he bids me.”
He announced it like a threat, like a warning, so she would understand that—no matter what—Mr. Sinclair was most important to him. He was telling her that she could never compete, could never be put above Sinclair in his esteem. But if she couldn’t be first in his heart, could she be second? Would that be so bad?
They were quiet, staring out, a hint of dawn lightening the eastern horizon. He sighed and said, “I have to leave.”
“To take Miss Dubois to Dover?”
“Yes. I don’t imagine she’ll depart without an enormous fuss. I need to eat a big breakfast so I have the energy to bicker with her.”
“Why doesn’t she want to go?”
“Why do you think? John’s finished with her, and she’s irked.”
“Really? Why is he finished?”
He shrugged. “In his personal affairs, I don’t try to guess.”
She scrutinized him and decided he was lying, being too circumspect to confess Dubois’s transgression.
“What did she do to get herself sent away?” Caroline was eager to have some clue as to Dubois’s lapse so she didn’t make the same mistake.
“Nothing. John just doesn’t bond with women, and he’s easily bored in his amorous pursuits.”
“He’s ready to move on?”
“Yes.”
“To Sarah?”
“Like I said, I hate to guess, but she’s a tad…tame for his tastes.”
“What about you? Do you bond with women?”
“Not usually—especially married women. That’s a bit tricky.”
“It certainly is. How about your amorous pursuits? Are you easily bored, too?”
“I’m not quite as exacting as John, but yes.”
“I see…”
She peered out toward the water, feeling adrift and invisible. She’d never been loved by anyone. Why was life so hard? Why did women have so few options?
She wished she was a man so she could work and travel. She’d purchase a ship, then sail off to the edge of the world and start over. She’d have a grand house and host fabulous parties. She’d have a thousand friends, and people would gush about how witty she was, how charming.
She slid away from him, anxious to be alone so she could mope and lick her wounds in private.
“You’d better be going,”she muttered. “You shouldn’t keep Miss Dubois waiting. She might pitch a fit—which you shouldn’t have to endure this early in the morning.”
She tried to walk away, but he clasped hold of her wrist.
“Would you come to France with me?”he suddenly asked.
It was the last question she’d expected. “To France?”
“Yes.”
“As your what?”
He grinned. “My mistress? My personal trollop? My passion slave?”
“We’d live there? Together?”
“Yes. At John’s. He has a huge home or we could build our own.”
“We’d carry on openly? With me committing adultery every day?”
“It hasn’t seemed to bother you the past month.”
“You’re mad.”
She tried to pull away again, but he only tightened his grip.
“Seriously, Caroline. Would you come?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been anywhere. And to France. I don’t even speak the language.”
“Your other choice is to stay in England. Perhaps at Bramble Bay. Perhaps out on the road—depending on John’s mood when he arrives.”
“I realize that.”
“I can’t stay with you.”
“Why not?”
“I told you: I go where John goes.”
“He won’t remain in England?”
“No longer than is required to return Miss Teasdale and clear up some business. If your husband learned that I’d left, I wouldn’t be around to protect you.”
For an eternity, they were frozen in their spots, her mind awhirl with possibilities.
She loved and trusted him, but was scared to cast her lot with him. If he grew bored with her—as he claimed he frequently did—she’d be stranded in France with no friends or funds.
A few minutes prior, she’d bemoaned the fact that, as a female, she had no options. Now she had so many that she felt dizzy with sorting through them all.
Finally, he flashed a rueful smile. “Forget about it. It was a silly idea.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
But apparently, she’d lost her chance.
He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I couldn’t take you to France.”
“Why not?”
“I’m never there, and my line of work is…hazardous. If I met with foul play, you’d be alone and far from all that was familiar.”
She’d just been lamenting the very same problem, but when he voiced his misgivings, she had to protest.
“I could live there with you. I wouldn’t worry about the future.”
“No.” He sho
ok his head. “It’s better if you stay in England. I’ll make plans for you so you’re safe without me.”
“I could do it!”she insisted. “I simply need some time to consider my choices.”
“Well, with me, you’d never have the benefit of time. Things happen fast with me. And I have to tell you, Caroline, I’m not a man you should count on.”
“I could count on you. I’m not afraid to try.”
“I’m an unreliable bounder, and whenever I traipsed off to attend to John’s affairs, you’d never know if I’d return. No woman should be resigned to such a fate.”
With that, he went to the dressing room, and she staggered to the bed and climbed under the covers. The conversation had chilled her, and she curled into a ball, listening as he moved around, as he put on his clothes.
She should have helped him dress, but she felt slighted and snubbed and foolish. She had tears in her eyes, but couldn’t figure out why. She hadn’t really wanted to go to France, so why be upset that he wouldn’t take her? It was just so sad to think that he would sail away with Mr. Sinclair and she’d never see him again.
How would she bear it?
Several minutes later, he emerged, attired for traveling. He proceeded to his wardrobe and opened it, pulling out knives and pistols, arming himself, stuffing weapons into every nook and cranny where they would fit.
“Are you expecting trouble?”she asked.
“Always.”
“I wouldn’t suppose Miss Dubois to be that dangerous.”
“You have no idea,”he said, and he chuckled.
He walked over and kissed her.
“Gad, but I’ve enjoyed knowing you.” It sounded like goodbye, as if he already suspected they’d never have another chance to be together.
“Why would you say something like that? You act as if you’re leaving forever, as if this is farewell.”
“Every parting could be the last with me.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “Don’t talk that way. You’ll court bad luck.”
“I was born under a black star, Caroline, but it hasn’t caught up with me yet.”
“Will you come back tonight? Swear that you will.”
“Of course I’ll come back. Don’t fret so much.”
“What about when Mr. Sinclair arrives? Will you leave me then?”
He was quiet, ponderous, then he admitted, “It’s possible.”
He whipped away and left.
“Raven!”she called.
He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“Be careful.”
“I always am. I’ll be home soon. Keep my spot warm.”
Then he was gone, an ominous silence settling in.
She lay very still, trying to calm her racing pulse, trying to chase away her perception of gloom, but she couldn’t dispel it.
She crawled out of bed and hastened to the window, hoping she might see him riding off, that she might hear his horse clattering away, but he was nowhere to be found.
* * * *
John slipped into the cabin on his ship. Sarah was asleep on his bunk, and he liked having her there. Her presence made it seem as if she belonged with him.
They were crossing the Channel, and she’d wanted to stay on deck, to watch as the sailors carried out their duties. But the seas had been rough, the temperature frigid, and he’d insisted she remain below.
The closing of the door roused her.
“John, is that you?”
“Yes.”
She extended her hand, and he hurried over and clasped hold.
He rested a hip on the mattress, leaned over and kissed her. It was sweet and delicious, and as he drew away, he sighed with pleasure. He nestled her to his chest, her cheek directly over his heart.
There was a small window over by his desk. Moonlight streamed in, casting the walls in an eerie blue color. Her auburn hair looked indigo, her sapphire eyes glittering like diamonds.
“When will we arrive?”she asked.
“In a few hours.”
“So I have you all to myself?”
“For a bit.”
“Lucky me.”
She tugged him nearer, thinking he would stretch out with her, but he didn’t. The notion of returning her to England had him extremely maudlin in a fashion he hadn’t previously allowed her to observe.
“What’s wrong?”she said.
“Nothing. I just don’t have much time. I can’t relax.”
“Are you sad?”
“Me? No.”
She was so attuned to him now; she could tell he was lying.
“It’s hard for you to visit Bramble Bay, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say hard.”
“Disconcerting, then.”
“Perhaps.”
“You haven’t changed your mind about Mildred, have you?”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind.”
The topic disturbed him, and he slid away and went over to stare out the window at the rolling waves.
Over the past few days, she’d been able to extract many promises that he was regretting. He couldn’t deny her any request, and he thought he might be in love with her. Yet he’d never been in love before, so he had no guide to explain what was happening. He could barely look at her, because when he did, he was overcome by such a rush of affection that it almost knocked him to his knees.
If that wasn’t love, what was it?
She seemed smitten too, and he was flirting with the idea of marrying her.
Should he? If he coerced her into it, he’d have to make some major concessions, and he was greatly torn. He’d have to abandon his pirating. Bandits lived short lives, filled with injury and early death, and he was running on borrowed time.
It wouldn’t be fair to wed her, then promptly get himself killed. If he truly wanted her, he’d have to renounce his rampaging, his vendettas and revenge. He’d have to shift his illegal enterprises to legal ones, finally mourn his mother, forgive his father, stop lashing out.
He’d walked on the criminal side of the law for too many decades, and the prospect of completely reinventing himself was annoying and daunting.
He’d already begun to accept small compromises that didn’t sit comfortably on his shoulders. She wasn’t a vindictive person, and she was determined that Mildred and Hedley not be punished.
She was also determined that John and Mildred reconcile as much as possible, that aunt and nephew come to terms, but the concept was galling and wouldn’t occur.
She’d wanted Mildred and Hedley to remain at Bramble Bay, which he wouldn’t permit. So he’d agreed to give Mildred six months to leave, plus he’d furnish her with funds so she could establish herself in London.
But he’d drawn the line on Hedley. Hedley had to depart immediately, and John wouldn’t provide him with money he’d simply gamble away. Hedley was an adult who needed to take the lumps life threw at him, who needed to cut the apron strings and stand on his own two feet.
John didn’t care what transpired, except that Sarah be safe from her relatives. He’d considered giving her title to the property, but he couldn’t now. If she owned it, Hedley and Mildred would run roughshod over her. She’d never be free to manage the place.
Reggie Thompson, John’s clerk, had accompanied them from France, and he would stay at Bramble Bay to watch over Sarah and enforce her wishes.
“I’ll never understand your kindness and ability to forgive.” He was still staring out at the endless water.
“And I’ll never understand your bitterness and anger, but I’ll help you move beyond them.”
“You’ll make me into a better man, will you?”
“I’m very stubborn, so you can’t win against me. Not in this.”
He peered over at her. “Why would you bother?”
“Why bother? Are you joking?”
“No.”
“I’m mad for you, you thick oaf.”
He scoffed. “You shouldn’t be.”
�
��That’s fine talk from the cad who ruined me. You wore me down until I can’t bear to be separated from you, so you’re stuck with me. You’ll need a crowbar to pry me out of your life.”
“Why do I feel as if nothing will ever be the same?”
“Because it won’t be—now that I’m interfering and bossing you.”
“I didn’t think I’d like it, but it’s not so bad to have you around.”
“If you keep flattering me like that, I’ll get a big head.”
“Perish the thought.”
He smiled, but it was an odd smile. He was dying to share the issues that were roiling him, but he couldn’t. He was too used to being alone, to having secrets. He wondered if he’d ever fully trust her, if she’d ever be a friend and confidante.
He didn’t like that he was so far away from her, but he was too overwhelmed by her, and he had to put some space between them so he could clearly evaluate all the changes he was mulling.
Was she worth it? Did he actually intend to relinquish everything just for her? When she gazed at him with those pretty blue eyes of hers, he believed he absolutely should, so he had to go somewhere quiet—away from her—where he could make more prudent decisions.
She had this absurd idea that they could travel to London to meet his siblings, to meet his father, and like magic, they’d be one big, happy family. It was an intriguing picture to ponder, but he’d seen too much of humanity and recognized that many things simply couldn’t be done—no matter how fervidly you yearned for them to occur.
“Come here, Jean Pierre.” She patted the empty spot next to her on the mattress.
“I have to be up on deck very soon.”
“Rest with me until then.” He didn’t take a step toward her, and she added, “You seem troubled. Let me soothe you.”
“I’m not troubled,”he lied.
Still though, he pushed away from the window and went over to her. He stretched out, and for a minute, they fumbled around, trying to get comfortable. The bunk was narrow, designed for one person, not two, but the confined area guaranteed that they had to snuggle closely.
He rolled on top of her, and he kissed her. He was gentle, tender in a way that was worrying. He felt as if he was saying goodbye. Was he?
“What’s vexing you so much?”she inquired.
“I’m glad we met.”
“Well…I’m glad we met, too.”
