The Thief and the Rogue

by Rachel Donnelly

  When Ian arrived with her breakfast, she fairly pounced on him as soon as he was through the door. “I need you to deliver a message to my husband. Tell him I wish to see him immediately.”

  “I try my best.” Ian bobbed his sandy head, apparently eager to please. “But I don’t rightly know where to find him, Your Grace.”

  “I don’t care if you have to scour every inch of the ship. I must speak to him at once.”

  “But he ain’t aboard the ship.” Ian shuffled his feet from side to side. “He went ashore last night and hasn’t returned.”

  “When do you expect him to return?”

  “Don’t rightly know, Your Grace.” A look of guilt passed over his face. “Sometimes it takes a few days when he’s makin’ deals to trade his cargo.”

  Kay’s heart sank, as did any hope of discovering when her confinement would end.

  By the time the cabin was put to rights and her breakfast eaten, her spirits had plummeted lower. She flopped down on the bunk, hugging a pillow for comfort, not caring whether her jonquil organdy gown became wrinkled or not. She hadn’t bothered with her hair, other than a vigorous brushing. It flowed around her like a silken veil, covering most of her curled form.

  What were Uncle Fabian and Grandmere doing right now? Were they were missing her as well? A tear slipped down her cheek. Life wasn’t the same without them. How would she endure an entire year of this misery? Her chest grew tight, weighed down by grief. An uncontrollable sob escaped.

  It was a waste of time to cry, a pathetic weakness she rarely indulged in. She hadn’t intended to give in to self-pity. She just couldn’t help it.

  After a time, when all her pent up grief was spent, she felt much better. One last shuddering sigh and she rubbed her dripping nose against the edge of the pillow, closing her eyes. How foolish she was. Women married and went away from their families all the time. Why should her life be any different? One couldn’t expect to be pampered and smothered with love their entire life. She needed to buck up. After all, she was made of sterner stuff.

  The sound of the cabin door closing made her heart jump. She closed her eyes tighter and held her breath, grateful that her hair covered her face. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she’d been crying. He already held too much power over her life.

  His footsteps grew closer.

  Her heart skipped a beat, then began to pound.

  When the bed dipped beneath his weight, she froze.

  “Are you ill, madam?”

  Kay ignored the note of concern in his voice, shaking her head while pressing her face deeper into the pillow.

  “I’ve brought you a present.”

  Kay groaned inwardly. He’d barely spoken to her in days, and now he’d arrived just in time to view her weakness and subsequent mortification. She wanted nothing from him—least of all his sympathy.

  “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  “No,” she mumbled into the pillow. “Please go away.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, yes you do. You’re bursting with curiosity.” He grabbed her by the shoulders to turn her around. When she resisted, he scooped her onto his lap. Though she strained against him, he held her firmly, preventing escape. “Don’t you even want to guess?”

  She kept her head down, allowing her hair to veil her dampened cheeks. “Whatever it is, I can’t accept it.”

  “A wife can’t refuse a gift from her husband.”

  “You’re not my real husband.”

  His voice held an edge. “I am for as long as our bargain lasts.” He tipped her chin up with one finger.

  She wanted to shout, you aren’t keeping me, but the lump in her throat prevented her from objecting.

  “Look at me, Kay,” he coaxed gently.

  She jerked her chin from his grasp and looked away.

  There was a long silence before he spoke. When he did his voice had gentled. “Why are you crying?”

  She made an imperceptible shake of her head. Then in a tremendous voice she said, “I’m not crying.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a wisp of a smile pass over his face. “Good, because tears are a waste of time with me. I’m completely immune to them.”

  She sliced him a resentful sidelong glance.

  “But, I’m not completely heartless, as you’ll see when your bathtub arrives.”

  She sniffed, rubbing her hand under her nose. “You bought me a bathtub?”

  He grinned. “It should be delivered directly.”

  “Really!” A strange but thoughtful gift.

  “Really.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then, realizing what she’d done, she slowly disentangled herself.

  “The only condition being, that I get the use of it once in a while.”

  She nodded vigorously. The entire crew could have the use of it when she was through with it. A real bath! She couldn’t believe it. How could he have known she was longing for just such a thing?

  A rap on the cabin door sent her scrambling from his lap. A few moments later his words were proven true. Two sailors came lugging a shiny new copper tub into the room. A procession of buckets of hot and cold water followed, until the tub was full to the rim.

  “You’d better bolt the door,” he told her gruffly on his way out, “Unless you want Ian offering to scrub your back.”

  As soon as he’d gone, she did just that. Then immediately began stripping off her clothes. Everything got tossed on the end of the bunk in her haste. When she finally sank beneath the delicious steaming water, a sweet sigh escaped her lips. A bar of lavender soap had been provided as an added luxury. She brought it to her nose in the palms of her hands to breath in the delicious scent. It smelled like home.

  How could he have known the one thing that would make her life bearable, the one thing she’d yearned for most—next to her family and horses, which of course she could not have.

  After she’d lathered her body and washed her hair, she lay in the water with her head resting on the rim of the tub, soaking for nigh on to an hour. When the water grew tepid, she reluctantly rose, stepping out onto the towel to dry herself. She felt refreshed and cleaner than she had in days. A sponge bath just couldn’t compare to a proper scrubbing in a tub.

  She dressed, then curled in a chair by the window to brush her hair.

  A knock sounded against the door.

  Thinking it was her husband, she rose to open it and thank him again for his thoughtful gift. A faint disappointment tumbled over her at finding Ian scuffling at the threshold.

  “I hope you enjoyed your bath, Your Grace?”

  She attempted to revive her fading smile. “Yes, I did very much.”

  “If you be done, I’ll see to its emptying.”

  “Perhaps, you should consult my husband. He might want the use of it first.”

  He shot her a sheepish glance. “He’s gone ashore to meet up with his uncle and haggle over the price of the wine we loaded. Won’t be back, I fear ‘til morn.”

  “Oh, yes that’s right.” She fibbed, not wishing Ian to guess how little she knew of her husband’s plans, or the embarrassing truth of their marriage. “Then by all means, empty it.” She strode to the window and silently fumed, while Ian emptied the tub.

  So, the selfish devil had gone ashore to dine with a loved one and be pampered at a fine inn for the night. No doubt his gift of the tub assuaged his guilt for an evening of merriment while she sat closeted in their cabin alone, the sly rogue.

  Business indeed!

  Most likely he sat drinking and gambling this very moment. And she’d had the folly to think he’d made a thoughtful gesture just for the sake of being kind to her.

  When the tub was emptied and tucked away, Ian brought her her dinner. She thanked him, then plunked down at the table, tapping her fingers beside her plate. She wished she could do something to exert her independence, to show him that a piece of paper didn’t mean
he owned her body and soul. But right now there was no way to accomplish it. He held the advantage while she was aboard his ship.

  But, never fear, she’d bide her time. When they returned to England circumstances would certainly change. Her freedom would increase. His only demand had been that she sleep at the manor each night and attend the odd function. She saw no great hardship in that. The manor was huge—twice the size of Butterfield hall. There’d be no trouble avoiding him there. And, when they returned home, she’d demonstrate her indifference with a vengeance.

  Having decided her plan of attack, she actually enjoyed her solitary dinner.

  After, she took a stroll on deck. With the Isabella loaded, all was quiet and still. Allowing her white silk shawl to drop to her elbows, she leaned against the rail, enjoying the balmy night air. The warm breezes off the Mediterranean teased at the skirt of her white muslin gown, fluttering the pink ribbon under the bodice.

  The Isabella sat all but deserted. The crew must have been given shore leave for the evening. The wharf below lay quiet, save the clang of the rigging in the warm breeze and the creak of timbers from the other ships. Distant laughter and music floated from the taverns on shore. The lights from the tiered stone buildings winked back at her under the stars.

  Which light might belong to the inn her husband lounged in? What manner of debauchery was he up to? Well, two could play at that game. Up until now, she’d behaved far too mildly, considering his expectations.

  Though there was no getting out of their bargain and no way to repair her lost virtue, she’d certainly make the most of her incarceration. She smiled into the darkness, turning her cheeks into the wind. It was time to take charge of her own destiny.

  If her punishment was to be his wife for a short time, then so be it. She’d rally to the occasion and seek the advantages of her temporary position.

  The Duke would soon discover he’d gotten far more than he’d bargained for.

  ***

  Kay rose from the bunk with a smile on her lips, stretching her arms luxuriously above her head. It was a new day, a beautiful day—the day she’d begin reaping the benefits of being the Duchess of Wallshire.

  Her first affirmative action was to order another bath. Once they sailed there’d be no fresh water. She planned to take advantage of the Duke’s generous gift while she could.

  Ian seemed eager to please his new mistress. “A grand idea, Your Grace,” he said, setting her breakfast tray on the table. “I’ll have that tub filled for you in a jiff.” She thanked him with a pretty smile, then sat down to eat her breakfast. That wasn’t so hard after all.

  After breakfasting and bathing it was time to dress. To fit her mood, she chose a pale, blue gown with white gauze gathered just inside the neckline. Freshly scrubbed, with her hair twisted into a neat coil, she grabbed her shawl and sailed out the cabin door.

  With a jaunty step she made her way to the galley to consult Henri about dinner. He thought her idea of plundering the market for fresh produce before they sailed, marvelous. She gave him the necessary coin, telling him to buy whatever he wished, her only request being that he purchased plenty of fresh fruit. She wished she could accompany him, but her husband had not returned as yet, and she dared not leave the ship without his protection.

  As it happened, when she returned to the cabin he was there to open the door. At least, he had just wrenched it opened, and was about to rush out when the sight of her brought him up short. “Where in the devil have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been scouring this ship looking for you.”

  After her initial shock, she drew herself up, then shrugged. She tried to ignore his eyes on her as she stepped past him through the door, despite the fact that her heart galloped away with itself. “I went to discuss dinner with Henri. I suggested he visit the market to stock up on fresh produce before we sail.”

  Hunter closed the cabin door, then leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest. “It’s a good thing I’ve returned then, since he’ll need some coin to accomplish this extravagance.”

  “You needn’t worry.” She shrugged. “I’ve taken care of it.”

  His gold eyes widened. “And where, pray tell, did you find the coin to accomplish that?”

  Kay stiffened, not at all pleased at his accusing tone. “From my own pocket of course. Don’t worry, you won’t find your coffers empty.”

  “I can well afford to pay for my own food, Madam.” He scowled down at her. “In future, kindly come to me for any necessary expenditures.” He strode to the desk where he produced a wooden box from one of the drawers.

  “You weren’t here,’ she reminded him sweetly. “Besides, am I to ask for every small household item during my incarceration?”

  “Of course not, there’s a monthly household allowance for such things. You’ll be provided with a personal allowance as well. You need not touch your own money.”

  She opened her mouth to object, then clamped it shut. Why shouldn’t he support her? After all, he was her husband. It was the least he could do for completely ruining her life. How amusing that his pride wouldn’t allow her to pay for anything, when he was so tight with his purse strings.

  Hmm… perhaps that could work to her advantage.

  To play the part of a Duchess well, she would certainly need proper financing. Who better to supply it, than him.

  Deliciously wicked thoughts bubbled up inside her.

  By the time she got through with him, he’d be counting coins in his sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hunter stood on the quarterdeck, feet braced, eyes trained on the horizon. Taking over the responsibilities of captain had saved him just in the nick of time. Another moment spent alone in the cabin with his new wife and he’d have lost what little self-control he had left.

  He’d been a damn fool to relinquish his husbandly rights and promise her she need only share his bed once. Now, how in the blazes would he keep his hands off her—now that he’d felt her satiny skin, and beheld the perfection of her pert round breasts—ran his hands down those shapely thighs and kissed her sweet sweet lips.

  How could he have been so blind?

  How could he not have known she was a virgin? He cursed himself for not seeing the obvious signs, or not wanting to see them. But she was such a mixture of exotic beauty and unaffected innocence, he hadn’t seen it coming. In Vienna her cool self-assurance and taunting words had spurred his anger as well as his lust. She’d played the coquette so well, he’d convinced himself she was sleeping with everyone she could get her hands on just to spite him.

  After their hasty marriage, he’d wondered at her continued ploy of innocence, feeling his pride a little more than pricked at her reluctance. When she returned his kisses so eagerly and softened in his arms like warm pudding, he’d assumed she’d been playing coy.

  Damn!

  He’d handled the whole thing so badly. But, he hadn’t counted on involving himself with an innocent when committing to sabotaging Lord Galloway’s plans. The whole thing had been a damn sight easier when he’d felt certain she was a conniving little whore. He didn’t need this complication. Or the guilt that came with it.

  He’d hoped bedding her would squelch his passions and thrust her from his mind, but taking her had only increased his fascination with the wench and left him wanting more. Now, he was a refugee at the helm of his own ship. He dared not go below and risk one more of her radiant smiles.

  She was incredibly beautiful, but when she smiled, the sun seemed to shine from within her. She became breathtakingly so. Everything about her seemed sensually hypnotic, threatening his composure—stirring his lust.

  And now thanks to his own big mouth, he could not sate it.

  The sooner this voyage ended the better. He needed to feel solid ground beneath his feet. Most of all, he needed somewhere to escape and something else to occupy his mind.

  Until he returned to London, his investigations into Captain Hartley’s death were at a standstill. The s
ooner he got back on the scent, the sooner he’d forget this unhealthy fascination with the vixen below deck.

  ***

  Kay paced the cabin in a state of agitation. Her shell pink satin gown rustled around her legs, lavender stirred the air with every step. Now that they’d arrived in Plymouth, she couldn’t wait to vacate the ship.

  The journey home had passed quickly, with her mind busy thinking up ways to be the kind of wife Hunter deserved.

  He continued to avoid her of course, which suited her just fine. In his absence, she could almost convince herself she wasn’t married to him at all. She and Henri continued to enjoy their morning chats, planning the menu for the day. In the afternoon, Kay distracted her mind with a book or busied her hands with embroidery. In the evening, before the sun set, she strolled on deck to take the air, not an easy task with the ship rolling and pitching beneath her feet, but necessary if she were to maintain her sanity.

  She kept clear of the quarterdeck, where her husband stood manning the wheel. Since Captain Pike had left them in Naples, the Duke had taken over captaining the ship, as well as the air of authority that came with the job. On the few occasions she chanced a glance up at him at the wheel, his expression appeared cold and forbidding. It made her yearn for home. She did everything she could to avoid him and thanked the stars for Captain Pike’s leave-taking, which aided her cause.

  The worst time was at night, lying alone in the narrow bunk, knowing Hunter slept but a few feet away in his hammock. Every creak of the ropes when he moved, every whiff of salt air from his clothes reminded her of the intimacy they’d shared—the touch of his warm hands on her flesh, the feel of his soft smooth lips against hers.

  She’d toss and turn, trying to dispel the images, trying to block out his smell and the heat of his body so close to hers. But to little effect. Then, she’d remind herself how much she hated him for using her so cruelly in his plot of revenge. She’d squeeze her eyes tight and breathe very deeply, willing herself to sleep.