Beyond the Savage Sea

by JoAnn Wendt

  “You great fool,” Verity scolded, giving Drake’s ears a tug. “That will teach you to book passage on ships ill-equipped to fight pirates.”

  Drake kissed her forehead. “I’ll try to remember the lesson. You were safely delivered?”

  “Absolutely. The midwife tells me I am built like an ox and will likely have a dozen more babes now that Arthur and I at last have made a proper start.”

  Drake laughed. “Then I look forward to meeting the first of my dozen nephews.” He released Verity, and reached for his brother-in-law. “Arthur.”

  “Drake, it’s so good to have you home.” The two men embraced fondly and shook each other by the shoulder.

  “It’s good to be home. Especially here.” His sweeping nod took in the house, eyes joyful. “I will tell you all about my so-called pirate adventures, but first...”

  Drake reached for Edwinna’s hand and drew her forward. She smiled uneasily. She wanted Verity to like her. Verity gave her a steady, straightforward look, her expression puzzled but open.

  “Verity? Arthur? This is Edwinna Crawford Steel,” he said with unmistakable pride. “My wife.”

  Verity’s expressive face went blank for a moment. She looked from Drake to her to Drake. Arthur’s mouth went slack.

  “Your wife?” Verity drew two sharp breaths. “Drake, didn’t you get my letter? The instant we received the news, three months ago, Arthur and I scraped together the ransom money—”

  Edwinna gripped Drake’s hand. She didn’t understand, but she felt frightened. “What are you talking about, Verity?” Drake asked calmly.

  Silk rustled on the staircase landing. All eyes swung there—Edwinna’s eyes, too. A woman—no, a goddess— stood poised on the landing, the light from the small window silhouetting the graceful curve of shoulder, breast, hip. Edwinna clutched Drake’s hand. Instantly, she knew. That exquisite face, that sheaf of fair hair, golden as an angel’s wing. Edwinna looked at Drake.

  His face was white, all of the blood gone, his expression stricken. He stood motionless, like marble, like some magnificent statue that someone had dressed in clothes.

  “Anne.” He whispered the word, then said it again, louder. “Anne!” The word tore out of his viscera, raw, ragged, like the bloody stump of a wound. There was so much agony in it Edwinna didn’t wait to hear more. She pulled free. He didn’t even notice. She threw herself at the front door and let herself out,

  Stunned, her mind raw with shock, she stood there unable to think, her chest banging. What had happened? Anne was supposed to be dead. Playing in the side yard, the children shrieked at each other, threw leaves, chased a barking puppy. Edwinna went in the opposite direction, running through the sunny woodland, awkward in her skirts, running...to where? She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. When she’d left the house far behind, she stopped running and rested her palms on the smooth trunk of a hickory tree, pressing her forehead to the backs of her hands.

  No. No! She drew shattered breaths, trying to absorb the shock of it, but the shock went too deep.

  Inside the entry hall, Verity threw Anne a look of fury as Anne cast her usual magical spell over Drake, sweeping down the stairs in a graceful silken rustle and into her brother’s stunned, worshipping arms. He looked to be totally overwhelmed.

  “Anne—you’re dead.”

  “No, darling, I’m alive! Drake, hold me, touch me, love me. I’m alive, darling, alive.”

  Verity watched as he crushed her to him, his powerful shoulders and arms clamping her like a vise. “Anne, Anne, Anne, Anne—you’re not real. I’m afraid to blink, afraid to close my eyes. I’m scared you’ll vanish.”

  “No, darling, no. I’m real. I didn’t die at sea. The ship was captured and sunk by pirates. They took us to Northern Africa and held us hostage.”

  “Anne, beloved!” Drake crushed her so close he might have been trying to press his body into hers. He worshiped her with his mouth, kissing her eyes, her nose, her ears, her cheeks, her throat, her mouth. “Anne. Is it you? Is it really you?”

  “Oh, yes, my darling!”

  Verity glared at Anne’s silken back. Why did you have to show up like a bad penny? You’re no good for him, you never were. That woman out there who is probably crying her eyes out is worth ten of you. Yet he will kneel at your feet and worship you,

  “Anne—Anne!” Drake’s hands were groping in stunned disbelief, squeezing her shoulders, touching her. Then he swung around. “My God, Verity, Edwinna—”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Verity said crisply.

  “Anne, tell me everything, everything!”

  Verity seized a shawl that was draped over the staircase rail, whipped it on, and went out. She banged the door closed on the love talk. Drake, you great fool. The afternoon sun was waning and a chill stole into the crisp autumn air. Folding the ends of the shawl across her breast, she went briskly about finding Edwinna. It wasn’t difficult. Her skirts had swept a trail through the fallen leaves. Verity strode on for ten minutes and found her standing in a hickory grove, huddled in her cloak, her face pale. She wasn’t crying. Verity liked that. A sensible woman, Edwinna Crawford. Verity had assumed she was sensible from the very start, from the first of Drake’s letters. She marched to her through the dry rustling leaves.

  “Shall you be all right, Edwinna?”

  “Yes. Thank you. It’s just the...shock.”

  “Of course, it is a huge shock. Arthur and I were shocked when we received the letter, demanding ransom for Anne’s release.”

  “I don’t understand!”

  “Nor does anyone. Anne’s story is most unlikely. But Drake will believe her. Drake has always believed everything Anne told him. According to Anne, she was captured by pirates and held hostage for two years in Northern Africa.”

  “Pirates? As...as happened to Drake?”

  “Well...yes.” Verity prided herself on being a fair-minded woman. If it had happened to Drake, it could have happened to Anne. She mustn’t let her dislike of Anne color everything. England had been besieged with pirates since the civil war. “Edwinna, let’s walk. And talk. If you’re not feeling too cold.”

  “I’m not. I’m feeling nothing but the shock of it.”

  “Of course you are. The pain will come later.” Verity scrutinized her. “But you look staunch enough to bear it.” The woman was dazed. Verity had to take her elbow to get her to move. They walked through the rustling leaves, into the setting sun. Verity firmly believed in physical movement, and she kept a hand on Edwinna Crawford’s elbow, even though the woman did not look like the weak sort who would faint. Anne would faint—gracefully, and with great drama, Verity thought tartly. But Edwinna would not.

  Verity walked her a half mile before she spoke again.

  “Drake is a great fool, of course. You love him.”

  “She is his wife.” Edwinna stopped and pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. “I don’t know what that means! I am his wife. I know I am. We are wed. But she is his wife, too. She is the one he wants.”

  “More’s the pity,” Verity said tartly. “I have never liked her and never shall. Drake knows it. Anne knows it, also. I see no need to pretend otherwise.”

  Edwinna glanced at her, still numb, but startled by Verity’s bluntness. She was surprised by it, but not greatly. Verity’s letters had been blunt, straightforward, plain-spoken. They walked on through crisp leaves, their gowns sweeping a path. Verity was a comfort to be with, and oh, dear God, she needed comforting.

  “I have grown to like you through Drake’s letters, Edwinna. You are a sensible woman.”

  The pain was starting. Oh, the pain. She felt as if her cane cutters were slashing her heart with a bill-cane knife. I want to go home! I want my work, my plantation. “I would’ve thought his earliest letters would carry complaints about me.”

  “They did,” Verity agreed. “That is what made me like you. The very things Drake complained of were the things I valued. A sturdy, hardworking woman, I though
t. I like her. I truly knew I liked you when I saw your drawings. For what I saw in them was love. You love my brother. I value that, for I love him myself.” Verity scrutinized her. “Shall I tell you something? There is a bond between brother and sister that is like nothing else. Drake and I are born of the same father, the same mother. The same blood runs in our veins. Because of that I love him intensely, even more than I love my own dear Arthur, possibly even as much as I love my own son. Can you understand a love that strong?”

  “I have two brothers. If need be, I would give up my life for them.”

  Verity took a tighter hold of Edwinna’s elbow and steered her on.

  “Then we think the same.”

  “Verity, I cannot go back to that house!”

  “And you shan’t. Not for an instant. When we finish our walk, we will go directly to Drake’s hired coach. I shall fetch Arthur and my babe and we’ll start for London at once. You will stay with Arthur and me for as long as you like. Anne can take care of her own children, if she knows how, that is. She wasn’t any good at it before. It’s wishing for the moon to hope the past two years have improved her.”

  “I’m very grateful.” Edwinna couldn’t bear to see Drake. Not at this time.

  “Horse feathers. You love my brother, and I would do anything for the woman who truly loves him.”

  Overwhelmed, touched by Verity’s kindness, she put her arms around Drake’s sister, and they hugged, cheek to cheek.

  The warmth, the comfort of Verity! Then, arm in arm, they headed for the coach.

  “I want to leave for Barbados as soon as possible.”

  “Of course you do. Arthur and I will help you.”

  * * * *

  Inside the house, Drake was beside himself with joy. “Anne. Anne.” He couldn’t stop kissing her eyes—eyes he’d given up all hope of ever looking into again. He couldn’t stop kissing her mouth—the mouth he’d thought he would never again taste. “Anne, Anne.”

  She held him in her arms and stroked his cheek as if he were a wild animal in need of calming. “Drake, darling.” She gentled him with word and touch until with one final, ferocious shudder the shock reached its peak and began, raggedly, to subside. Then they held each other, rocking and kissing softly. Still, he couldn’t let go of her. Every few moments a tremor rippled through him.

  “Anne. Tell me everything. The pirates didn’t hurt you, rape you?”

  “No. I’m fine. Drake, don’t tremble so, darling. I wasn’t hurt. A Dutch privateer took our ship, not Barbary Coast pirates.”

  He gripped her shoulders, still drawing shattered breaths. A door banged and the children came galloping in, squabbling.

  “Anne.” He crushed her in his arms for one last embrace. “I want to hear everything that befell you. But right now—” He glanced out the window. “I must find Edwinna. She’s probably feeling very hurt.”

  “Did you really marry that tall, plain woman, Drake?”

  He drew back, surprised. He’d thought that of Edwinna when he’d first met her, but he didn’t think it now. Now he thought her lovely. How could anyone look at Edwinna and think anything else?

  “She isn’t plain, she’s lovely, and I had to marry her, Anne,” he said soberly. “She saved my life.”

  “Poor Drake.”

  “Anne, she’s a fine, decent woman. If you knew her, you would like her.”

  Anne laughed prettily. “That I doubt, my darling. I caught a glimpse of her gown under her cloak. How unfashionable. Never mind, darling. You have me now. Oh, Drake, isn’t it exciting, your knighthood? You will be Sir Drake Steel and I will be Lady Anne Steel!”

  Her comments jarred him. How could she think of fashion and knighthoods at a time like this? His own heart was so full of her that everything else was inconsequential. His heart was so full of family—Anne, William, Katherine, himself, a family reunited.

  “Anne, I must go see Edwinna.”

  “Do that, darling. Poor, plain, homely woman.”

  As he went out the door the children threw themselves at Anne with happy, demanding shouts, and he heard Anne deal with them crossly. “What do you want?” Her tone stabbed him, but he credited her irritability to the stress of the day. This emotional reunion had been hard on Anne, too.

  Outside the door he collided with Verity, who was heading in. They stood in the autumn leaves to talk.

  “Where is she, Verity?”

  “I’m taking her to London to stay with Arthur and me.”

  “Verity, I need to talk to her. We lived together as man and wife. In the complete sense.”

  “Don’t you dare go near her,” Verity said vehemently. “She is in enormous pain. What can you say to her right now that will ease her pain? Nothing. And she at her lowest ebb—humiliated, shorn of poise and pride. No! Give her three days to recover, and then you may come and visit her. Not a moment before. Go back to Anne, Drake. Go back to the wife you so blindly adore. She is all you have ever wanted, is she not?”

  His anger flared. “Verity, you are a bitch. You’ve always been against Anne, from the very start.”

  “Yes! I am against Anne and I am a bitch—a bitch who loves you. As for you? You are a great fool who doesn’t know a good woman from a bad one when they are right under your nose.”

  They glared at each other. Then, because in his heart he knew she was right about one thing—what could he say to Edwinna at this moment that wouldn’t cause her more pain?—he went into the house and slammed the door. Fifteen minutes later Verity and Arthur’s coach rumbled off to London.

  * * * *

  That night, after he’d put the children to bed and had explored the old house for the small wonders he remembered from boyhood, Drake made a cozy fire in the parlor, pulled the old threadbare chaise up to the hearth, and got a goose-down quilt and a goose-down pillow. He and Anne settled into each other’s arms as they used to do evenings in their small house on Thames Street, cozy and content, drinking wine, talking, watching the firelight.

  He felt immensely happy, except for his sorrow and worry about Edwinna. He’d managed to steal an hour from the children to take Anne to bed and make love to her. It had been magical, breathless and as thrilling as ever, he and Anne kneeling naked on the bed, seizing each other and kissing so deeply they became one. For the first time he could remember, she hadn’t insisted that he withdraw at the final moment to spare her a pregnancy. He came, exploding in her gloriously. He hoped their wild, unfettered lovemaking meant she was willing to have another child.

  “Now, tell me what happened, sweetheart. All of it, Anne.” They settled down to talk and drink wine, Anne’s head on his shoulder, her hair soft, a mass of fair silk curls that he kissed constantly.

  “You were off in Holland on wine business, darling. You’ll remember I was angry that you were going. I had wanted you to take me to France to see my sister.”

  “I couldn’t, Anne. Now I can reveal why. I had to go to Holland. It was vital. I was delivering letters and money to our exiled King Charles from the Sealed Knot.”

  “The Sealed Knot?” She lifted her head in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in league with the Sealed Knot?”

  “The knowledge would’ve put you in danger.” He kissed her forehead and took a sip of wine—the first good wine he’d had since he’d landed in Barbados. He ached. What was Edwinna feeling tonight? Thank God for Verity.

  “Is that why King Charles is granting you a knighthood?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Yes.”

  She settled against him with a smile and purred, a pretty sound like a contented cat, the purr low in her throat. “I’m glad. I shall like being Lady Anne Steel. They say the royal court is very merry, with its bachelor king. There is dancing and music every day, they say. Will we be allowed to come and go at court?”

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I should present myself to King Charles next week—a courtesy visit.”

  She reared up in excitement. He sheltered his wine cup to keep
her from spilling it. “May I go with you?”

  “Of course. I shall enjoy showing you off.”

  “I’ll need a new gown!”

  “Of course.” But he stirred uneasily. “Don’t spend too much on it. I’m not sure yet of our financial situation, and I want to repay Verity and Arthur for the ransom they sent for your release.”

  “Verity and Arthur can wait. A pink silk gown, I think! Would that please you, Drake? It would please me.”

  He kissed her mouth. “Everything about you pleases me. Now tell me what happened. The voyage, the pirates.”

  She seemed reluctant to talk about the capture and spoke in vague terms. He credited that to the terror of the experience. Essentially, she’d taken the children to Verity’s, then booked passage on a ship leaving that day for France—a ship called the Fair Wind. But the wind had not been fair. A storm had come up. Mastless and foundering, the ship had been set upon by Dutch privateers who took the passengers and the cargo.

  They’d left the crew to sink with the ship. Committing acts of piracy all the way, they had sailed to North Africa, where they’d imprisoned the passengers in a villa. Considering the captors, the passengers had been treated well. Drake held Anne close, trembling for what might have befallen her, thanking God it had not.

  Anne lifted her head. “If you don’t believe me, you can get in touch with a wool draper in Leeds—a Mr. Christopher Stiles. He and his wife, Mercy, were held prisoner also.”

  His lips parted with surprise. He gazed at her. “Why would I not believe you, sweetheart?”

  “Verity doesn’t. She is extremely mean to me, Drake.”

  His anger stirred. “Verity is Verity. We won’t pay any attention to what she thinks or says.”

  “Good. Now tell me what happened to you, Drake.” They sipped wine, lounged in each other’s arms, and watched the firelight for two whole hours while Drake told her every detail. The only ones he omitted were those of his intimate life with Edwinna. That was private, between himself and Edwinna, no one else.