For the Love of a Pirate

by Edith Layton

  She put her hand on his arm, and paced out of the house and into the gardens with him in silence. They walked to a rose arbor with a bench beneath it. He waited until she sat, but didn’t sit beside her. Instead, he stood, looking down at her.

  She admired the way the sunlight lit his hair, the way it showed the glow of his eyes, the way it outlined the whole cut of the man.

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he said.

  She caught her breath. “I’ve been completely honest with you,” she replied.

  “Have you?” he asked, raising a winged eyebrow.

  She lowered her gaze. She’d flung herself into his arms and hadn’t told him she’d never done such a thing with any man before. She’d never know if he’d have made love to her had he known that. Or if he’d have volunteered to marry her if she’d given herself to another man before.

  “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the bench she sat on.

  She blinked. They’d shared their bodies less than three hours past, and now he was asking permission to sit beside her? “You’re married,” she said flatly.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. He sat beside her and turned to look at her. There was a rueful look in his eyes. “I was engaged. Still am, that is, at least, for now. I came here on your grandfather’s invitation. He read of my engagement in the newspaper and came to see me in London. He was outraged. He waved a pistol at me and told me I was already promised in wedlock, to his granddaughter. You,” he said unnecessarily.

  She gasped; her hand flew to her neck.

  “Then he told me about my father and my great-grandfather, all things I’d never known. I came here straightaway to find out more. I met you. And …” He paused. “And I was captivated.”

  “Now there’s a false note,” she said, standing. She felt hot, cold, and empty. They’d been so close, now she’d never felt further away from him. His protestations were warm; his voice was cool and even. “You were seduced, my friend,” she said. “Don’t put fine feathers on it.”

  “I was captivated,” he said, standing and looking down at her. “As I said. My engagement was not a love match. It was time for me to marry, Miss Winchester was an appropriate match, she found me to be the same, and so we made it a bargain.”

  “So coldly?” she asked, searching his eyes.

  He nodded. “I knew no other way.” At last, a faint smile made his lips curl, in wonder or in distaste, she couldn’t say. “I never kissed her as I kissed you. I’ve never actually embraced her. That engagement must be unmade now. I want to marry you.”

  “And my grandfather’s conditions?” she asked.

  “That I tell you about my engagement,” he said.

  “And nothing else?”

  He sighed. “He thinks I’ve ruined you. He no longer approves of me. He said that if you are not … eventually encumbered with the consequences of our actions, he might not allow our marriage.”

  “And you?” she asked, and waited.

  “And I want to marry you,” he said. “Whatever the consequences.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Consequences?” She considered the word. “A poor reason for wedlock. Even so, how do I know what you say is true?”

  “You don’t want to marry me?” he asked as answer.

  “What I want doesn’t matter just now,” she said angrily. “You were engaged. You were seduced. If I am not with child, why should we marry?”

  “You make love to all your guests?” he asked softly.

  “With none,” she snapped, “as you know. But I won’t take charity or sympathy.”

  “How can I prove my sincerity to you?”

  She looked at him. He stared back at her.

  He reached out, took her into his arms, and kissed her. “This way,” he said roughly, when he lifted his head.

  “I’ll need more convincing,” she said breathlessly.

  “Oh, good,” he said.

  They walked back to the house slowly, arm in arm and in silence.

  “I’ll go to London, and end the matter of my engagement,” he said, “and then, after a few weeks, I’ll send for you. We can marry there or here, it’s your choice. But I want the world to know who you are. There’ll be no hole-in-the-corner ceremony for us. You and your grandfather and whoever else you think necessary will come to stay with me, or if you prefer, we can rent a house for you until the banns have been read and the invitations to our wedding sent out. I’ve cut ties to my uncle, or I’d have you stay at his home, though I don’t think you could bear him. One day, he and I will thrash things out—not literally, of course. And then we may be polite acquaintances, if never friends. Our children may find such connections important.”

  “Will you lose your friends and your reputation because of this?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. It will be done so that Miss Winchester is the one to end the relationship. That is the customary way to do such things. I have only to tell her about my family to accomplish that.”

  She stopped and stared. “So she’d have ended it anyway?”

  “No,” he said. “If I’d left here promptly and never returned, she’d never know. I didn’t want to do that.”

  “But you did, once,” she persisted.

  “Once upon a time,” he said. “Before the princess’s kiss woke me from my sleep.”

  “Coming it too strong,” she said.

  He laughed.

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you to London?”

  “No,” he said. “Let me make arrangements, so you don’t have a moment of unease.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “All right. But one thing, my lord: be sure, be utterly sure. If you find that when you get back to London and your proper lady, that she is the one for you, I’d rather know it sooner than later. I do have other beaux, you know. And here in the countryside we are more liberal, I think.”

  “I want to be more liberal, Lisabeth,” he said. “I want you.”

  She smiled, and they went slowly back to Sea Mews.

  They were met in the hall by a beaming Miss Lovelace. “We have company!” she trilled.

  “What?” Lisabeth said. “Who?”

  “Two dashing gents,” Lovey burbled. “Top o’ the trees! Tulips of the ton, or at least one is. He’s so fashionable, dust wouldn’t dare settle on his boots. The other is manly and athletic, a Corinthian, a sportsman par excellence. I’d bet my breeches on it. Friends of Lord Wylde, they said, coming to inquire as to his welfare and whereabouts, since they hadn’t heard from him in a long while. The captain was surprised and then delighted to meet them. Handsome as they can stare, the pair of them. Mannered, mannerly, and charming. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t lose your heart to one of them or both, Lisabeth, as I’ve already done. Why does age come upon us so quickly?” she asked sorrowfully. “Just when we know all the rigs and roundabouts, we’re too old to use them. Ah, me. Oh, well.”

  She finally focused on Lisabeth and Constantine. “Why, you two already look fine!” she cried. “Were you expecting them? Fie for not telling me! Come in, and greet them.”

  “Their names?” Constantine asked.

  “The fascinating dark one is Sir Richard Kendall, the glorious blond is Sir Blaise de Wolf,” Miss Lovelace said dreamily.

  Constantine grinned. “Yes, they are good friends. And they came all the way here to be sure I was doing well, they said? Trust me,” he told Lisabeth, “it’s gossip they’re after, not reassurance. My letters were vague; I stayed longer than I said I would. I’m not known to deviate from my schedule. They must be dying of curiosity as well as worry about my welfare. But either way, you’ll find them amusing. And they mean nothing but well.”

  She hesitated. Now her experience of his world would begin. Would she fit in? Would she make him proud of her, or embarrass him? She’d been so foolishly sure of herself. She hadn’t thought it through, or considered an aftermath, after lovemaking, aside from dreamily imagining
clutches of children who looked like him. She’d simply thrown herself at this man, and after a second of surprise, he’d succumbed. And though he’d sworn to wed her, he’d never said he loved her. Only that he wanted her.

  He smiled now, had held her close and kissed her, but she didn’t know him well enough to know what was going on behind his eyes. She hadn’t known even when they’d kissed just moments ago. All she knew was that she wanted more.

  Most of all, she could not forget, in slow and deadly detail, that when they’d made love, his ecstasy had ended at the precise moment he’d realized she hadn’t shared it. Not because he’d failed her as a lover. But because he’d realized she’d never had a lover before.

  Lisabeth composed herself. It was done. He was a proper gentleman and would do the right thing. Now she’d have to meet his friends and discover his world, and more than that, find out if by her entering his life, she would end his pleasure in it. His friends’ reactions would tell her much.

  She drew a deep breath. She didn’t know if she could live the rest of her life doing the right thing, with the wrong man. Or the wrong thing, with the right man. But she’d been raised to trust her instincts, and she couldn’t stop now.

  “Lead on,” she told him, placing her hand on his sleeve. “I’m eager to meet them.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Enchanted,” the faultless Sir Blaise said as he bowed over Lisabeth’s hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Sir Kendall said as he took her hand in turn.

  Lisabeth curtsied. She couldn’t think of one word to say to these two gentlemen. Sir Blaise was beyond handsome. He was slender and exquisitely dressed; his immaculate clothing didn’t bear a speck of road dust, although he’d just arrived at Sea Mews. His golden hair was brushed back from a pale and noble brow, his eyes were blue; his face looked as though it should be carved on a priceless cameo. Sir Kendall was gruff but polite, dressed like a man about town, handsome in an intensely masculine way, and obviously fit as a fiddle.

  They bowed to her, and then looked at their friend Constantine. Who looked, she thought, as though he were in his element for the first time since she’d met him. Her heart sank.

  “Fell in on you,” Kendall told Constantine apologetically. “But worried about you, y’see.”

  “Lord Wylde is an old friend,” Sir Blaise explained smoothly to Lisabeth. “And since he’s usually as predictable as a mantel clock, we began to fret when he didn’t return when he said he would.”

  “I sent you letters,” Constantine said.

  “The post,” Blaise said with a shrug of one shoulder. “I daresay it’s not that promptly delivered between here and London. Be that as it may. We see you breathe, and we are content. We’ll leave.”

  “Won’t hear a word of it,” the captain said. “You’ll stay to dinner. And for as long as you like after that. We have more bedchambers than guests, so please make yourselves at home. Daresay you two have been round the world, but I’d wager you have never explored our part of the world, have you? Well, you’re welcome to do it from here. That is,” he added, with a challenging look to Constantine, “if your friend Lord Wylde agrees?”

  He wants to know if Constantine will tell his friends about his new wedding plans, Lisabeth realized. It was a rude and crude test, and maybe even insulting to Constantine. But she didn’t say a word. She needed to know too.

  “I’m delighted to have them stay, thank you, if it’s not too much trouble,” Constantine said.

  “Wouldn’t have asked if it was,” the captain said.

  “Maybe we can take them out on that delightful fishing boat Lisabeth’s friends took me on?” Constantine said innocently. “And perhaps you fellows would like to go berrying too?”

  Lisabeth hid her smiles. Sir Blaise looked astonished, Sir Kendall, horrified.

  “We’ve much more to see than berries and fish,” she assured them. “Good trout fishing, excellent sailing, good riding, breathtaking views from the cliffs, and a fine inn, down the road.”

  “But first, if I may, I’d like to show them my family: my father and my great-grandfather,” Constantine said, “the fellows I discovered when I came here. Captain, would you mind?”

  “Be proud,” the captain said.

  “And Lisabeth,” Constantine added, “would you mind narrating their rich histories for my friends?”

  She smiled so broadly she was sure she glowed. “I’d be happy to, my lord,” she said. “But first, surely, they wish to refresh themselves. You are staying on, gentlemen, aren’t you? I’d like to pass the word to Cook, so she can try to outdo herself.”

  Constantine’s friends looked at him.

  He nodded.

  “Be happy to,” Sir Kendall said.

  “Delighted,” Sir Blaise said.

  “Wonderful,” Constantine said. “What a good idea. My long-lost relatives are best seen by moonlight anyway.”

  His friends looked puzzled.

  Lisabeth laughed.

  It was the last time she would laugh aloud, and mean it, for some time.

  “By God!” Kendall exclaimed that evening, as Constantine held the lamp up to the portrait of his great-grandfather. “The spit and image of you, Con. But then again, he’s nothing like you.”

  “Exactly,” Blaise commented as he scrutinized the portrait. “He’s dashing, Con. Charming and moral you are. But dashing? That, you never were. It’s the eyes, I think,” he said as he stared up at the picture. “His eyes hold wicked secrets that delight him.”

  Con? Lisabeth thought. She’d never heard him called that, nor had he encouraged her to use that name. But his friends had used it all through dinner. She’d kept still. She’d had nothing to say but inane polite things to his guests anyway. She didn’t really know them. Now she wondered if she really knew Constantine.

  Dinner had been pleasant; the gentlemen from London had taken it upon themselves to keep the conversation going. Blaise was obviously used to entertaining the company at dinner. Gruff Sir Kendall was positively loquacious when the subject turned to horses, hunting, fishing, or riding, and Constantine turned it that way whenever conversation lagged. It seldom did. Dinner had been very entertaining. Except that Constantine himself said little, nothing about her, and not much to her.

  He didn’t even look at her fondly. He was cool and collected, once again the stiff, formal fellow she’d first met. Was this the man who had made such passionate love to her? Was he the one who had asked her to marry him just this morning?

  Constantine told his friends his family history with never an apology or a defense. Her grandfather had kept silent, watching his friends as closely as she did. Sir Blaise and Kendall were by turns shocked, amused, and fascinated. And yet, Lisabeth thought, Constantine had claimed that knowledge of his ancestors’ wicked past would ruin him.

  But Blaise and Kendall seemed to enjoy the stories, and then enjoyed discussing them over a glass of port with the captain in the salon. Then they excused themselves.

  “Tired as the devil after a day of traveling,” Kendall said.

  “All that fresh air!” Blaise said in horror. “I need a night to recuperate from it. Then too, Con has also told us we must be up early, as he’s going to go riding with us to point out the sights. So good night, Captain, and good night, ladies. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  They bowed, and left the salon. The captain went off to bed, and that left only Lisabeth and Constantine, and Miss Lovelace, snoring in her favorite chair by the hearth.

  Then, at last, Lisabeth rose, and looked at Constantine with inquiry. “What’s the matter?” she asked him quietly, her eyes searching his. “Have you changed your mind? I’ll understand. So will my grandfather. But I must know what’s going on.”

  He turned a surprised face to her. “Going on?” he echoed. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “You didn’t tell them about us,” she said.

  He smiled. “How could I? Remember, my dear, I am nominally still en
gaged to Miss Winchester. I want your name to be left out of any gossip until the day I am free to tell everyone.”

  She nodded. “I see,” she said. “But it’s more than that. You—you’ve changed. You’re cool with me. You don’t look at me the same way, or speak to me the way you used to do, even just this morning. It’s as though a mask has come down over your face. You’re the way you were when you first came here. Cold, mannerly, and … slightly superior. I don’t recognize you.”

  “You obviously do, if you remember how I was,” he said with a slight smile. “No, I’m just joking now,” he added when he saw the anger flare up in her eyes.

  He walked to her and held her by her shoulders, but at arm’s length. He sighed. “First,” he said. “I can’t make love to you anymore, not here, and not now. It would betray your grandfather’s hospitality. It also might become known by my friends. It wouldn’t do your name any good, or mine. I’m not a scoundrel. You’re not … an easy bit of muslin I chanced upon.”

  “I was,” she said stonily.

  “Once,” he said. “If that. Whatever happened was my fault. I lost my self-control. Listen, Lisabeth, I’m not yet free, not in the eyes of Society. I will be. On that day and from then on, everything will be out in the open. Until then I must play at being the man I was before I met you. And you have to understand, I still want you. I can’t forget our time together. But this is a new time, one in which we must keep this a secret between us.”

  “Are you going to tell Kendall and Blaise?” she asked. “They are your best friends.”

  He thought a moment. “Yes. Tomorrow, when we’re out riding. I won’t tell all, but I’ll explain that I’ve changed my mind about Miss Winchester, and that I want to marry you. I’ll ask for their help in anything that might arise, and I know they’ll give it to me. But I won’t say anything that might reflect on you. There’s no need for them to know everything. Believe me,” he said on a slight smile, “knowing that I’ve changed my mind will be enough to shock them senseless.”