Island Flame

by ROBARDS, KAREN

  Cathy looked up at him enquiringly, her blue eyes, so like his own, misty with thought. It was a moment before she answered.

  “Wed, Papa?” she repeated stupidly.

  “Yes, daughter. I have in mind a young lieutenant of good family who is presently stationed aboard the Lady Chester. He’s just three years older than you, a handsome, gentlemanly lad. Of course, it’s nothing like the marriage you could have made, but under the circumstances any marriage at all is better than none. As it is, I am convinced that I can induce this young man to claim fathership of the child. His family is rather low on funds just at present, you see.”

  Cathy stared at him, the color slowly draining from her lips. Her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap.

  “You propose to buy me a husband, Papa?” she asked tightly. Sir Thomas met her rapidly cooling gaze calmly.

  “My dear, we have little choice. Not many men will take you without some inducement. Be realistic, daughter. Not only for your own sake, but for mine, and even for the child you carry. If any of us are to ever hold up our heads again, you must have a husband.”

  Cathy thought deeply. What her father said was true, and was indeed no more than she had told herself earlier. Did she want to bear a bastard child, to watch it suffer the stigma of illegitimacy? Did she herself want to face scorn and ridicule for the rest of her life, to be barred from polite society? No, she didn’t. And marriage seemed to be the only way to prevent it.

  “I agree with you, Papa,” she said clearly. Sir Thomas regarded her with some surprise. He had expected an argument, not this level acceptance.

  “Excellent!” His bluff features relaxed into a smile. “I’ll make arrangements at once. The sooner you are wed, the sooner the talk will die.”

  “I have just one condition, Papa.”

  Sir Thomas looked at her fondly. “What is it, daughter?”

  “I want my husband to be of my choosing.”

  Sir Thomas spluttered. “But, my dear, there is no time for you to meet eligible young men. We must act quickly if we are to act at all. If we wait, we will no longer be able to claim the child as premature when it comes.”

  “The man I have in mind will take no time to find, Papa.”

  Cathy’s meaning crept up on Sir Thomas like a bush fighter on an unsuspecting enemy regular. His eyes narrowed at her.

  “I presume that you’re referring to the pirate?”

  “His name is Jon, Papa. And yes, I’m referring to him.”

  “But, daughter, I have already explained to you that what this man feels for you is nothing like love. And you will soon come to realize that you don’t love him, either. There’s no reason for you to compound your mistake by marrying the fellow.”

  “There’s a very good reason, Papa. I’m carrying his child.” Cathy’s blue eyes met her father’s calmly.

  Sir Thomas sighed. When he spoke, his voice had hardened.

  “Cathy, you must understand that I will not permit you to marry this man. Why, he is a murderer, a criminal! You would be ashamed of him as soon as you came to your senses, and would reproach me for permitting such a thing to befall you! Good God, what do you propose to do with him after the ceremony? Take him back to London, and introduce him around the Court? We would be laughed out of England!”

  Cathy’s chin set in the mulish lines he knew and dreaded. Blast her stubbornness!

  “Papa, if I don’t marry Jon I won’t marry anyone.” The very coldness of her voice was horribly convincing. Still, Sir Thomas tried. He glowered at his daughter, his face suffusing with the angry color that used to alarm her into compliance.

  “By damn, girl, you can’t defy me! I am your father, and it is my responsibility to arrange your future. You will wed whom I name!”

  “I am very sorry to disoblige you, Papa, but I will marry Jon, or I won’t marry at all!”

  Two sets of almost identical blue eyes warred with each other, both refusing to give ground.

  “And what happens after the ceremony, if I were foolish enough to permit such a thing? You realize that your pirate is still under sentence of death, don’t you? It is unlikely that he will escape the gallows forever. His kind rarely do.”

  “I know how much influence you have at Court, Papa. You could easily arrange a pardon, if you so desired.”

  While Cathy was talking, Sir Thomas’s thoughts raced on ahead. Now that he considered it, perhaps there was something to be said for her scheme. He had never liked the idea of his daughter being forced to throw herself away on some young puppy with neither money nor influence to recommend him. If he could somehow restore her good name without saddling her with a husband, at least not on a permanent basis, then something still might be salvaged from this shambles. Say, if she were to become a widow. … Sir Thomas smiled inwardly. He had hit on the very solution. Cathy would be permitted to marry her pirate, and then steps would be taken to assure that the fellow was gotten out of the way. Not that he himself would ever stoop to murder, Sir Thomas thought cunningly. There would be no need. If the pirate were to be turned over to the Queen’s justice, his end would be swift and sure—and perfectly legal. And Cathy would be free to choose another husband more in keeping with her own high rank. There were only two problems that he could foresee: the polite world must not know that Cathy’s dead husband was a pirate, and Cathy herself must not be apprised of the man’s fate until her infatuation for him had run its course. But there were ways to make sure of such things.…

  “What did you say, daughter?” Sir Thomas smiled at Cathy genially. Cathy was taken aback by the constant shifts in her father’s mood, but persevered with what she was saying.

  “You could arrange a pardon for Jon, Papa.”

  Sir Thomas nodded slowly, his lips pursing as if he was thinking the matter over. “Yes, I suppose I could.”

  “I won’t marry anyone else, Papa.” Cathy’s eyes challenged him. Sir Thomas sighed.

  “And is that your last word, my dear?”

  “Yes, Papa. That is my last word.”

  “I see that you leave me no choice.” Sir Thomas relented grudgingly. “But mind you don’t reproach me later! This is entirely your idea, and I refuse to take any responsibility for it!”

  Cathy flew up out of her chair, throwing her arms around her father and hugging him tightly.

  “Oh, thank you, Papa! Thank you!”

  Sir Thomas patted her back consolingly.

  “That’s quite all right, my dear. You know I’m only concerned with your happiness.”

  “I know, Papa. I love you for it.” The soft words, muttered into the front of his satin coat, cost Sir Thomas a momentary pang of conscience. But he stilled the pang, and continued to smooth her tumbled hair until she pushed away with a shaky laugh.

  “I must look a mess.”

  “You do indeed, my dear. Have you no other clothes?” Sir Thomas eyed her crumpled white dress and untidy hair somewhat severely.

  “I did—but they were in Jon’s house. It got hit with a cannonball and burned. I don’t imagine there’s anything left.”

  “Good God,” her father said faintly. “If I had known for sure you were on that island, I would never have let them open fire. But Colonel Hugh—he’s in charge of the soldiers that came with us—assured me that the pirates would have killed you long since, as there was no ransom demand. I thought you were dead, Cathy.”

  “Oh, Papa,” Cathy said, tears filling her eyes at the thought of her father’s pain. “Jon didn’t send a ransom demand because he wanted to keep me with him. I was never in any real danger,” here she managed a glimmer of a smile, “at least, not until this morning.”

  “Yes, well,” Sir Thomas turned away, clearing his throat. “I believe Martha packed some of your clothes in with my things in case you should need them. I’ll have someone bring them in to you. I think that I had best make the arrangements for the marriage today, if that suits you. Under the circumstances, the sooner, the better.”

 
“Anything you say, Papa.” Cathy smiled at him lovingly, then impulsively ran across to press a kiss to his ruddy cheek. Sir Thomas hugged her to him lightly, then let her go. Cathy thought she saw moisture in his eyes as he turned to leave the cabin.

  Left alone, Cathy wandered aimlessly around the room, too keyed up to sit still. She ran a hand over the curving backs of the elegant chairs, absentmindedly admiring their delicate beauty. After all, if one could afford it, there was nothing wrong with having the best, she thought defensively, imagining the sneer that her ideas would bring to Jon’s handsome face. She picked up a delicate Sevres vase almost defiantly. Jon would simply have to grow accustomed to a different standard of living. Indeed, he would have little choice, if her plans worked out the way she hoped. It would be fun to teach him the modes and manners of society. She smiled, picturing her fierce pirate captain in the guise of an English gentleman. How he would scowl at first! But for her sake, and their child’s, he would adjust. She knew he would, given time.

  She was conscious of a faint, uncomfortable stirring of guilt about forcing him into what she was pretty sure would be an unwelcome marriage. He had been obviously displeased about the baby. It was unlikely that he would be any happier with the news that he was to become a husband as well as a father. But better wed than dead, as she would be sure to point out to him at the first opportunity afforded her. If not for herself, and the baby, he would have been hanged.

  Her father had been certain that Jon didn’t, couldn’t, love her. Well, maybe not. Maybe she didn’t even love him. But they had made a baby together, and, for the present, their own emotions were secondary. The coming child was what was important now.

  A gentle tap sounded on the cabin door, and Cathy ran a self-conscious hand over her tumbling hair before bidding whoever was on the other side to come in.

  “Mason!” she cried joyfully as the gentleman’s gentleman, who had been with her father for years, entered.

  “My lady.” Mason beamed at her. “It’s good to see you again, my lady, if I may say so. Sir Thomas has been like a man possessed since we had word that you were captured by pirates. He thought you dead, my lady, and the thought grieved him—grieved us all.”

  “I know, Mason.” Cathy smiled at the severely dressed little man. Mason was as much a part of her childhood as her father or Martha. He had always been reserved, as befitted the personal servant of a great man, but to Cathy he was as well-known as the drawing room in their Lisbon home.

  “A sailor is bringing in Sir Thomas’s trunk, my lady. If you require help in fixing your hair, or if your clothes need attention, please feel free to make use of my services. Sir Thomas tells me that you are getting married this afternoon. Allow me to offer you my best wishes for your happiness, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Mason.” Cathy was touched by the prim speech. For Mason to offer his services as a lady’s maid was tantamount to herself offering to scrub floors. “I may want you to fix my hair. I’m still not very handy at doing it myself.”

  “I should think not, my lady,” sniffed Mason, plainly scandalized at the thought. He responded to another tap on the door, relieving the man in the hall of Sir Thomas’s trunk without ever letting him catch a glimpse of Cathy. Cathy smiled. It felt a little strange to be so protected again. She realized that reverting to her rightful role as a high-born lady might require some adjustment. She had become accustomed to freedom on the pirate ship.

  Cathy dismissed Mason with a smiling thank-you, and rummaged through her father’s trunk herself. Martha had packed four dresses and a nightgown as well as the necessary underclothes, hairpins, and paraphernalia without which a lady could not claim to be properly attired. Her garments took up a goodly portion of Sir Thomas’s trunk. Mason wouldn’t like that, she thought, grinning. Mason had always been determined to keep her father dressed in the very height of fashion, and if he had consented to turn over some of his master’s precious luggage space to her needs, then everyone must have been more concerned about her than she had imagined. It was a small sign of devotion, but it touched her as nothing else had done.

  One of these dresses would be her wedding gown, she reflected as she shook out the garments. They were all lovely—all her clothes were, as Jon had once remarked—but she had always had visions of marrying in white satin, with a lace veil and a bouquet of orange blossoms. She allowed herself a gentle moment of regret and then decided on a silk dress of a luscious peach, trimmed with yards of creamy Viennese lace. Martha had thoughtfully included the matching slippers, and her truly beautiful matched pearl necklace and earrings. With an elegant hairstyle she would do, she decided, and summoned Mason to iron her dress. While he was gone she bathed her face and hands in the basin of warm water, thinking with a momentary pang of the sweet scents that were most likely reduced to ashes in the ruins of Jon’s house. Martha had pointedly not included any scent.

  Cathy struggled into the three petticoats that were de rigueur, and laced her stays as well as she could herself. It was lucky that she was naturally slender, she reflected wryly. Somehow she couldn’t quite picture Mason helping her lace.

  When he returned with the dress, she had him wait outside the door while she donned it. Once respectably clad, she let him in to do her hair. He was surprisingly handy with a brush and hairpins, and Cathy teased him about his skill. He maintained a dignified silence as he swept her hair up into an elegant Grecian knot. Finally, he passed her a small hand mirror, and Cathy surveyed her reflection critically. Without conceit she decided that she looked as lovely as she ever had in her life. Under the gentle coaxing of the tropical sun her cheeks had taken on the same glowing color as the dress, while the rest of her complexion, down to the gentle swell of her breasts that was just visible above the frilled neckline, was a lovely creamy white. The perfectly matched pearls were looped twice around her neck to rest with a cool heaviness in the hollow between her breasts. Pearl studs shone delicately pink-white against the lobes of her shell-like ears. Her months with the pirates had given her face a fine-boned purity of outline that had not been apparent before. She looked like a woman now, not a girl, and her cheeks flushed becomingly as she thought about her imminent marriage to the man who had made her so.

  Mason went to inform Sir Thomas that she was ready. Cathy forced herself to sit quietly as she awaited her father’s return. Suddenly she wished for a few moments alone with Jon before their wedding. If he truly disliked the idea. … What could she do? She was committed to it now, and so was he. If he disliked the idea, then he would just have to dislike it. She was not going to draw back at this stage. If she were honest, she would admit that she didn’t even want to.

  Sir Thomas, when he rejoined her, assured her that all the arrangements had been made. Captain Winslow of the Lady Chester would perform the ceremony, and Mason and Sir Thomas himself would be the only witnesses. Besides Captain Winslow, no one outside of the family would know the details of her hasty wedding. And that was the way it should be, her father cautioned. If it became known that her new husband had once been a pirate, then the respectability that the marriage was supposed to achieve would be destroyed forever.

  Cathy was caught by surprise when the door to the cabin swung open after only a perfunctory knock. Sir Thomas frowned at this breach of etiquette on the part of the two sailors detailed to guard the prisoner, but Cathy had eyes only for the man in the middle. His face was bruised and streaked with a combination of gunpowder, soot, and sweat. His clothes were torn and filthy, and his eyes glittered oddly as they moved almost contemptuously over Cathy’s elegant form. She nervously moistened her lips with her tongue, and his expression changed to a savage sneer. It was only as he was thrust roughly forward by his two captors that she saw the heavy chains that swung between his wrists and ankles.

  For the second time that day she could neither move nor speak. She could only watch with horrified compassion as he stumbled over the chain that stretched from ankle to ankle. He managed to right himself with an eff
ort, and stood regarding her as her father dismissed the men.

  “Well, well,” Jon drawled, when neither Cathy nor her father spoke. “To think that I was worried about you. I should have remembered that cats always land on their feet.”

  “Why, you … !” Sir Thomas snarled, taking a hasty step forward. Jon swung around to face him, chains rattling, teeth bared like some savage animal. Cathy ran across to her father’s side, clinging to his arm.

  “No, Papa!” she said urgently, her eyes wide as they moved between the two men. Then, in what was almost a whisper, “I want to speak to him alone, Papa. Please.”

  “Impossible!” Sir Thomas growled, his eyes narrow with hatred as they fixed on the tall, muscular form of the animal who had abused his daughter. His mouth was dry with bloodlust. If it were not for Cathy’s presence, he would have taken great pleasure in blowing the rogue straight to hell.

  “Papa, please!” Cathy repeated, her eyes pleading with him. Sir Thomas looked down at her whitening face, his own softening.

  “My dear, it is quite impossible,” he said patiently. “He kidnapped you once before, and he looks quite capable of using you as a hostage again to win his freedom. I’m sorry, child, but there it is.”

  “Your father is right, Cathy,” Jon said slowly, his eyes gleaming at her with an expression she found hard to define. “If you come too close I might wrap these chains around that sweet little neck and snap it with a single jerk. Better not risk it.”

  “Shut up, you!” Sir Thomas barked, the gun pointing unwaveringly at Jon’s heart. “You can thank my daughter that you’re still alive! If she hadn’t told me of the child that you forced on her, I would have let you hang with great pleasure. As it is, you are going to do what you can to repair her good name!”

  “Papa!” Cathy cried in despair as she saw Jon’s face darken ominously. This was not how she planned to tell him! If they could only be alone, she could persuade him that marriage to her would not be the purgatory he was plainly expecting.

  “I forced the child on her?” Jon repeated, his voice savagely mocking. “If that’s what she told you, she lies.”