"All that you wanted for Christmas was your freedom," he said softly. "Freedom you will have. Rest assured, I will never let you go to Flambert," he promised, passion in his voice.
"Not for Christmas?"
"Never for Christmas. And certainly not ever!"
She thought that her heart shook within her chest at the sheer happiness that filled her when he pulled her into his arms once again, when his lips touched hers. She was in love with him, she realized, falling more deeply in love with him as each hour in his presence passed by...
The night was bliss, yet it seemed that he was insatiable. Nor did he have much need for sleep. When Tessa finally drifted to sleep to stay, she slept very deeply, and when she woke, she could hear the chirping of birds and feel the brightness of the light beyond the windows. It was very late morning, perhaps nearly noon. She didn't think that she had ever slept so late.
She jumped up and washed and dressed quickly, coming out into the main room, certain that she would discover herself alone, that Steven had gone to see to business with his men.
But she wasn't alone. She was startled to find Steven and another well-dressed, properly white-wigged gentleman. They both stood quickly when she came out.
"Captain Tyler," Steven said, "may I introduce the lady in question, Tessa Dousseau. Tessa, Captain Henry Tyler, in her majesty's service—and yours."
"I—beg your pardon?" Tessa said.
"He has come to take you home. To England. To your grandfather's house," Steven said, eyes emotionless as he stared at her.
"Oh!" she gasped. She gripped the doorframe, praying that she would not betray her dismay. He was sending her away. She had been falling in love, living in a fool's paradise, in a dream...
Well, indeed, she had been the fool. She had seduced a pirate, lived with him, loved him. And the pirate had remained a gentleman, not betraying her, even for a fantastic ransom. But he was sending her away.
She lifted her chin. "Captain Tyler," she acknowledged politely. "Sir, when do we leave?"
"With the tide," he told her. "You've perhaps an hour or so to gather your things. Of course, the men will see that your trunks are brought down to the small boat, and we will see to them from there. You will, of course, have the use of my cabin."
"Thank you, sir."
"My greatest pleasure, my lady."
"You can get your things," Steven said rather curtly. "I have other business with Captain Tyler."
"Indeed, we've other business!" Captain Tyler said. He came to Tessa, bowed, and kissed her hand, a warm, courteous man with fine eyes. She smiled in turn, feeling weak.
The men left. She walked back into the bedroom and sank down to the foot of the bed. Men! He had talked to her about Christmas, about freedom. He had held her through the night.
He had made her fall in love with him.
And now...
She had thrown herself at him, it was true. She had never thought to wonder if there might be a mistress somewhere, a woman, a lover...
Perhaps there were many.
She fought tears. She had what she wanted. Her Christmas miracle. She might not make it in time for the holiday, but she would be back with her grandfather soon enough, and they would celebrate Christmas all over again. The minstrels would play the times, the snow would still fall, the hall would be filled with the lush smells, and the world would be...
Empty.
It would be what she made it! She chastised herself. She was leaving.
When they returned, she was ready. She had donned one of her best gowns; she had carefully tended her hair. She was as distant and regal as she could manage.
She nearly snatched her hand away when Steven took it to escort her down the path and to the small boat. When they reached it, she was ready to step quickly away, so very close to tears. But he caught her hands, pulling her back as the captain's other men stepped into the small boat.
"Godspeed you to England, to freedom," he told her.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Then she moistened her lips and told him, "Thank you. Freedom was a wonderful gift."
"Love is a greater one," he told her. He kissed her hand, seemingly reluctant to let her go.
"We're about to lose the tide!" Captain Tyler called.
Steven stepped back, dark, tall, muscled, and splendid in his high black boots, breeches, and simple white cotton shirt. "Think of me, my lady, at Christmas!" he called to her.
She nodded again and stepped into the small boat, her back to him. The men began to row them from the beach.
She dared not look back.
Far ahead, resting just inside the harbor, was Captain Tyler's ship, the Marianne. She kept her gaze upon it.
And she did not burst into tears until she was alone in the Captain's cabin.
* * *
How had he let her go? Steven wondered, sitting alone in his house, slumped in one of the chairs, staring at the fire.
He should have kept her a prisoner. It had not been so bleak for her—she had laughed, she had smiled. Her eyes had dazzled him with their light, and she had held him, touched him, made love to him, as surely as he had loved her...
It had been Christmas. Damn Christmas! When she had talked about her grandfather, and the snow, and the wonders of the season. And all he could remember was that she had said she wanted one thing.
Freedom.
And so he had let her go, even if it felt that his heart had been gouged right out by a sword. He suddenly realized that up to the last minute, he had been hoping. He had been hoping that she would turn to him and tell him that she didn't want to go. That she didn't give a damn about anything else, that she was in love with him...
He stared at the little crèche and smiled. "That's what I want for Christmas!" he said softly. "But I've been a privateer, serving my country; doing so with mercy, so I always thought! I've not been perfect, by any means, yet as it is the season for forgiveness..." his voice trailed away for a moment. "One little miracle, dear God. Bring her back," he said softly.
The door suddenly burst open, but it was not Tessa, not his miracle, that had arrived.
Billy Bowe stood there, face drawn and tense. "They've been attacked! The Frenchie sailed a ship just out beyond the inlet for the Hidden Isle. He's surely been searching for her since he heard his bride was abducted, her ship seized. For the love of God, Captain, they're bombarding Tyler's ship, with Lady Tessa aboard!"
Steven bolted out of his chair. Before Billy could say another word, he was out of the house, heading down toward the small boat, roaring out orders to anyone within hearing distance that they were to sail immediately. Billy was quickly behind him, with members of his crew following just as swiftly. When he reached the beach, he leaped into the first boat, followed by Billy, Walt, and two of his stalwart crewmen out of Galway Bay.
Steven rowed the small boat himself, cutting through the water at incredible speed. He had scarcely crawled aboard his ship when he was roaring orders again, and she was setting to sail even as the last of the crew who had managed to join him dangled from the rope ladder to reach the ship itself.
Within thirty minutes they reached the spot where a pitched battle was now taking place. The mast was blown to bits on Captain Tyler's Marianne, but the floundering ship was still returning fire for fire with the French sloop, Aurora. The Aurora, however, was shifting in the wind, ready to make the last sweep down upon the Marianne, and take her prisoner with grappling hooks and irons.
"Bring her around!" Steven called to Walter at the helm. "Gunners to your stations. Aim your cannons quickly; light and fire at will!"
His guns began to roar, three shots falling short, but the fourth and fifth tearing into the French ship, one ripping her rigging asunder, the next barreling into her bow. The ship floundered, but even as she listed, the clank of hooks could be heard, and she brought herself hard against Captain Tyler's Marianne.
"Sweet Jesu, Walt, get us to her! Men, taper the sails, bring us hard a
bout her bow side!"
The sea was calm, in strange contrast to the scene of chaos before them. The French ship had come outfitted for war; dozens of men fell from her rigging upon the crippled English vessel. The minutes that it took Steven's crew to bring his ship about seemed endless, yet even as the first hook was thrown to bring his ship against the Marianne, leaving her pinioned between his own vessel and the French sloop, he had climbed the rigging himself and prepared to leap to the deck.
The ships came together with a fierce shudder. Steven leaped into the fighting taking place on the Marianne's deck. Men hurled themselves toward him, swords raised. Pistols were fired, smoke rose. He gave little heed to those who tried to waylay him; he sought only one man, one enemy, and he thrashed his way through the others, praying that he was not too late.
He was still searching for Flambert when he heard a scream.
Tessa.
He leaped over a coil of rope and balanced his way swiftly across the fallen mast. When he came to the bow where carved doors gave entrance to the captain's cabin, he saw her there, her arm held in the rigid grip of a brocade-clad Frenchman, well-dressed even for this occasion. A darkly handsome man with a cruel curve to his smile as he saw Steven.
"Ah, so it is the Red Fox. We meet at last, sir!"
"Indeed. Let go of the English girl if you value your life at all."
"French girl, monsieur! My betrothed, with contracts signed by her father."
"We do not live in the Dark Ages, sir. The lady has no wish to marry. She considers herself English, and England is her home of choice."
"Do you insult my country?"
"Ah, France!" Steven murmured, trying not to meet Tessa's eyes for the moment. He thought of what he might say to stall the Frenchman, giving his crew time to board the Marianne. His men, with Tyler's, could take the ship, no doubt.
Yet the Frenchman had Tessa. And a rapier-sharp sword. And Steven was quite sure this man knew how to use it.
"I do not insult your country, Comte, even though I am at war with it. Paris is the most beguiling city, the countryside is magnifique, non? Her women are beautiful, French wine superb. Yet, sir, even from such a wondrous country, monsters do come forth. Let her go. Now."
Raoul Flambert moved with lightning speed. Tessa cried out softly as the Frenchman's sword touched her throat, held there against the vein as Flambert stared tauntingly at Steven. "I suggest, Monsieur le Pirate, that you drop your weapon. And stand aside. Then, sir, you shall order your ship given over to me, and if you wish to live, you will have to swim ashore from this rotting hulk!"
"Steven, don't! He'll kill you in a second, I know it!" Tessa cried.
Steven smiled at her. "I've no choice!" he told her.
"What rubbish!" Flambert snickered. "What a fool! You'd have been a rich pirate, had you but accepted my offer for the girl. Now you shall be a dead one."
"You've caused enough death," Steven assured him heatedly.
"Ah, so that's it! Revenge for the English girl! What I did was no worse, pirate. I had her; I set her free. It's not my fault the fool girl went on to die in the English Colonies!"
"What?" Tessa cried, staring from him to Steven.
"Ah, you see, dear girl! The pirate was not so interested in loving you as in hating me. He sought revenge for some silly dalliance I had with one of his friends."
Those aquamarine eyes that he had stared into for the last few weeks turned on Steven. His heart shuddered in his chest as he prayed she would not falter because of Flambert's taunts.
"You're wrong, Flambert!" she said after a moment.
"Had he thought of revenge, I would have been dealt with cruelly. He but gave me freedom."
Steven, watching her, smiled slowly, feeling the message of pride and sympathy she sent with her eyes.
"None of this matters!" Flambert roared. "I will give up my Christmas wish for no one, English bastard."
"Neither will I!" Steven said softly, staring at Tessa. He lowered his arm and hunched down, setting his blade upon the deck and staring at Tessa. Her eyes widened with alarm, and for all their danger, he felt a thrilling in his heart. She did care for him, he thought. Indeed, it was almost as if she... loved him.
"Now, your ship!" Flambert said as he lowered his blade—just an inch, but enough. Steven leaped at him like a tiger, catching the man with his full weight and bringing the two of them down hard together to roll on the deck, fiercely locked into a life-or-death struggle. Steven heard Tessa scream, but could only think, She is free.
Flambert sent his elbow slamming into Steven's throat. With a tremendous burst of energy, Steven rolled again, bringing Flambert beneath him. Flambert tried to rip his knife from the sheath at his calf. Before he could do so, Steven sent his fist smashing into Flambert's jaw. The Frenchman let out a startled groan and went silent. Steven drew back his arm to strike him again, but a sudden cry and the curl of feminine fingers upon his arm stopped him. "He's unconscious, Steven. Such revenge will not ease the pain he has caused you. He's no threat to us. Let them take him back to England to stand trial for all our ships he has seized. Steven, please!"
He drew a deep breath. She was right. He had spent years wanting to slay this man with his bare hands, but justice would be served—before an English court of law. And that was all that mattered.
He allowed Tessa to pull him to his feet. Steven looked into her eyes for a long moment, then took her into his arms.
"She was a friend," he said softly.
Tessa smiled. "And still, you were never able to hurt me. Threats, threats! I had to do all the ravaging myself. You pretend to be a good pirate, Steven, and you do it very well. But what you are is a very good man."
He kissed her lips, savoring the taste and feel, holding her as if he would never let her go.
"Captain! We've secured the ship, sir!" Walt called to him. "What orders, sir?"
"Survivors aboard our ship, my friend, for these vessels will sink together. Salvage what we may. We'll outfit Captain Tyler anew from the isle for his trip home." He looked down at Flambert. "He must stand trial in England. I will entrust him to Tyler, for I cannot entrust him to myself!"
Tessa looked up at him and smiled slowly. "It will take a while to outfit a new ship, won't it?"
"As long as I can make it take," he told her.
"One little miracle," she murmured.
"What?"
"My Christmas miracle," she said softly. "I am truly free from Flambert. And..."
"And?" he asked her.
"I will have Christmas with you."
His breath seemed to catch in his throat. One little miracle. "If you spend Christmas with me, my lady, you'll not be as free as you desired."
Her smile deepened. "Freedom is choice, Captain Red Fox. I choose to be with you."
"A Christmas bride?" he asked huskily.
"Well, it was what my father intended," she said.
He started to laugh. Then he picked her up and swirled her around, and he was certain that all the seamen looking on, French and English, all surely thought that he had lost his mind.
He ignored them, carrying her across the floundering ship, grabbing hold of a rope tossed to him to bring them both swinging back aboard. Billy Bowe was there, waiting for him.
"We've got her back, Billy," Steven said.
"Aye, Captain!"
"She wants me for Christmas, Billy!" he told his man.
"Aye, sir!" Billy said, with little surprise. In fact, he was smiling as if he had arranged it all.
Steven took Tessa in his arms one more time and kissed her deeply as his crew looked on, cheering loudly. He lifted his lips from hers and whispered softly, "Say it, Tessa!"
Her eyes were shimmering with their sea-green beauty. "I love you!" she said softly. "You are my Christmas miracle, and not so little a one at that!"
He smiled. "Home!" he roared to his crew. "Home," he said again, more softly to her. He wrapped his arms around her as the ship moved with the flow
of the wind.
"There will be no snow," he told her. "And we've no holly boughs for the house. We've not too much music, but we can do our best—"
"Christmas, my love, is not a place. Christmas is within us all."
"Ah, lady," he told her humbly. "I am not the miracle, but one exists. It is one that always comes with Christmas."
"And that is?" she queried.
"Love!" he said softly, and kissed her again.
Epilogue
Christmas Day dawned warm and balmy. They were not so deprived of amenities on the island as Steven had described, Tessa decided. The English pirates—privateers! she reminded herself—had a jolly priest living on the island with them, sanctioning marriages, carrying out baptisms, and, of course, conducting Mass in a palm-covered chapel.
The chapel itself was a beautiful place, alive with the scent of wildflowers. Tessa stood in front of the priest on the day they were married, surrounded by the sweet scent of tropical flowers, and by her new friends. Judith stood as Tessa's witness, Walt as Steven's.
The service was not without music. They hadn't too much in the way of instruments, but a number of the men could play flutes beautifully, and the islanders were happy to sing Christmas songs. They had a huge feast, roasting their food before open fires on the beach, and everyone who resided on the island attended the ceremony.
Gifts of love
Prologue
Twenty-four...
Kaitlin carefully scratched the number into the hide of the teepee. Twenty-four. It followed her other numbers, a series that began with the number three, and was arranged like the numbered days of a calendar.
As she finished scratching out the number, tears sprang to her eyes. She wiped at them furiously. She hadn't cried when she'd scratched out all of the other numbers, but this one was different. Twenty-four. The month was December. It was Christmas Eve. And tomorrow would be Christmas. At home, in their small town, people would be caroling in the streets. For the first time in her life, she would have celebrated Christmas in her own home.
Heather Graham's Christmas Treasures Page 8
