Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘I cannot believe Bernard is involved in smuggling.’ Nerves made her voice sharper than she intended. ‘He is an odious little toad, but I cannot think so ill of him.’

  Nick poured wine into her glass. ‘Can you not? It is a very lucrative trade.’

  Eve was silent. After a moment she said slowly, ‘I think I told you that at one time he was always calling upon Grandpapa, asking him for money, coming to Makerham to hide from his creditors.’

  ‘But not recently?’

  ‘No. You saw him at the wedding; a modish new coat and his own carriage.’ She paused while he carved a slice of ham and put it on her plate. ‘He asked Mr Didcot about Monkhurst. He thought it was part of Grandpapa’s estate.’ She clasped her hands together, her fingers tightening until the knuckles showed white. ‘He began to—to hint that I should marry him, now that you were—that I was…’

  ‘Now that you were a widow.’

  ‘Yes.’ She did not look at him. ‘That was why I left Makerham. I feared he might…compromise me.’

  ‘For that alone I would thrash him,’ he muttered savagely.

  She smiled slightly. ‘Thank you. But you cannot blame him; he believes you are dead. Is that not what you wanted, to catch the villains unawares?’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t only that; I thought it would protect you. Once Chelston knew I was on to him, I feared that he might try to get to me through you. Making Chelston think I was out of the way removed that threat. However, when Sir Benjamin died I knew your cousin would be swift to claim his inheritance and if he suspected news of my death was a ruse then you would be in even greater danger. That is why I asked Richard to take you to my family in the north. I could be sure you would be safe there.’ His eyes softened. ‘I did not know then what a stubborn little minx I had married.’

  ‘If Mr Granby had told me the truth—’

  ‘Poor Richard was merely following my orders.’ Nick hesitated. ‘I did not know—I did not know if I could trust you.’

  She shrugged, the core of misery hardening in her heart. She had thought as much. ‘And now?’ She looked up. His eyes were midnight blue in the candle-glow. Inscrutable.

  ‘Now I have no choice.’ He reached across the table for her hand. ‘I cannot be sorry that you know the truth, Eve, but this is a dangerous game; you would be advised to let Granby escort you to Yorkshire, to the protection of my family. I will join you there when I have finished my work here.’

  ‘But you could still be killed.’

  He laughed. ‘Faith, sweet heart. I have faced greater dangers than Chelston and his cronies!’

  Nick was holding her hand, his grasp warm and comforting and he was smiling at her in that reckless, devil-may-care fashion that invited her to enjoy the adventure. She swallowed.

  ‘Let me stay.’ She heard the words come out of her own mouth. ‘Let me stay and play my part in this.’ Suddenly she felt reckless, no longer afraid of the world. She put up her chin. ‘If you are going to get yourself killed, I want to be on hand to know of it!’

  He was staring at her intently. ‘Are you sure, Evelina?’

  She met his gaze steadily. The weeks since he had left Makerham had been the most miserable of her life; Grandpapa was at peace, there was nothing more to be done for him, but the idea of being more than two hundred miles away from Nick was not to be borne. Not, of course, that she cared a fig for him now, but he was her husband and she knew her duty.

  ‘Yes, I am sure,’ she said at last. ‘I will live at Monkhurst and be your eyes and ears there.’

  His chair scraped back. He stepped around the table and pulled her up into his arms. She put her hands against his chest, holding him off, but all the while her heart was beating a rapid, heavy tattoo against her ribs, leaving her breathless. He looked down at her, his mouth tantalizingly close.

  ‘It could be dangerous,’ he murmured.

  ‘Being your wife is dangerous, Nick Wylder!’

  With a laugh he bent to kiss her and it took all her will power to turn her head away.

  ‘No,’ she gasped, closing her eyes as his lips feathered kisses down the line of her neck, causing her traitorous body to shiver with delight.

  ‘You cannot deny you want me,’ he murmured. His warm breath on her skin made her tremble, weakening her resolve.

  ‘No, but I—do not—trust—you.’

  The butterfly kisses stopped. He raised his head. ‘Ah.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet heart, it is my fault.’ He cupped her chin and tilted her face up towards him. ‘And I am to blame, too, for these dark circles under your eyes.’ He ran his thumb gently across her cheek bone. ‘What a villain I am to embroil you in this.’

  Angrily she knocked his hand away. ‘Yes, you are, and I shall never forgive you.’

  ‘Never is a long time, sweet heart.’ He grinned at her. ‘I must try to make you change your mind.’

  She hunched one shoulder and turned away from him. ‘It will not work. I am wise to your charming ways now, Captain Wylder.’

  He laughed softly. ‘We shall see. But for now, we must feed you.’

  ‘I do not think I could eat anything.’

  He pushed her gently back on to her chair. ‘Oh, I think you can.’ He pulled a little piece of flesh from the chicken carcase with his fingers and held it out to her. ‘Try this. The most succulent pieces are near the bone.’

  Patiently he coaxed and cajoled her, offering her tasty slivers of cheese and the most succulent pieces of meat until she put up her hands, protesting that she was full. Only then did he look to his own needs. While he dined, Eve leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine.

  ‘Nick? Why did you come to the Mermaid?’

  ‘I was meeting a sea-captain, one with more information on the black-sailed lugger.’

  ‘Did you see him? And did he help you?’

  ‘Yes, and yes. He knows the lugger; she’s called the Merle and sails out of Boulogne.’

  ‘Is that not where you said Chelston has his warehouse?’

  ‘It is. All I need now is evidence of where the smouch is being made and we can make our move.’ He looked up at her. ‘A few weeks more, my love, and all this will be over.’

  Eve did not reply, but she watched him while he finished his meal. Light from the candles and the fire cast a warm golden glow over his face, enhancing the lean cheeks and strong jaw line, glinting off his raven-dark hair when he moved his head. A stab of longing shot through her and she clamped her teeth into her bottom lip to prevent a sigh. She must be careful or her wayward body would betray her. At last he pushed his plate away and gave a sigh of satisfaction.

  ‘Our host knows how to please his guests, excellent food washed down by the finest French wines.’ He refilled their glasses.

  ‘And has the duty been paid on the wine?’

  He grinned at her. ‘I doubt it, but I am not going to ask. Now, one more thing to finish our meal.’ He picked up an orange.

  ‘No, really, I have had sufficient—’

  ‘We will share it, then, but you will have some; it will do you good.’ His lean fingers deftly removed the peel and broke the orange into segments. He leaned forwards, holding a piece out for her. ‘Eat it,’ he said. ‘No, don’t touch it; you will get juice on your hands.’

  Obediently she leaned forwards and allowed him to put the segment in her mouth. She nodded, smiling slightly. ‘It is good.’

  He held out another piece and this time his fingers touched her lips; she yearned to take them in her mouth, to lick the sharp-sweet juice from his skin. It took all her will power to pull away. Nick’s eyes were on her face, reading her thoughts, piercing her very soul. In turmoil, Eve tried desperately to think of some thing to say. Anything, to break the dangerous mood that had settled around them.

  ‘We should build a hot-house at Monkhurst. Fruit would do very well there. The gardens are sadly neglected but I have set Nathaniel and Sam
to clearing the ground—’

  ‘Eve.’

  ‘We will need to employ a gardener, but Silas may know someone…’

  Nick’s chair scraped back. ‘My love, you may employ as many gardeners as you wish, but we will not talk of it now.’ He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She kept her head down and braced herself. Her instinct was to give in, to lean against him and yield to his embrace, but she would not. She could not, for she knew only too well the heart break he would cause her. He cupped her chin with his hand and forced her to look up at him. When she saw his eyes darken with desire, felt his aroused body pressing hard against hers, she panicked.

  ‘Of course as my husband you are entitled to take your pleasure of me, but I pray you will take it speedily. I am quite worn out with travel ling.’

  His brows snapped together. ‘What is this? Do you think I am a monster, that I would force myself upon you?’

  His hold slackened and she stepped back, turning away from him while she gathered her defences, dredged up every feeling of anger and resentment to protect herself from the attraction she felt for him.

  ‘You are no monster, sir, but you must under stand that I have suffered a severe shock. I set out this morning thinking myself a widow, only to discover that I have been deceived.’

  ‘And I have explained to you why it was necessary!’

  Eve spun around. ‘Oh, so that is sufficient to make everything well again! You think that you only have to smile and say you are sorry and you will be forgiven.’

  ‘No, of course not—’

  She began to catalogue his offences, counting them off on her fingers. ‘First, you married me because you suspected my family of being involved in smuggling. The day after our wedding you disappear, then you send your man to tell me you are d-drowned. I have told you, I shall never forgive you!’ She put her hands over her face, fighting back the tears that were choking her. She longed to feel Nick’s arms around her, to hear him utter some words of comfort, but there was only silence and it seemed to stretch on forever.

  ‘You are quite right,’ he said at last. ‘I have behaved abominably towards you.’

  She looked up. He was putting on his coat.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I must leave. I have no wish to force my attentions upon you, nor my company, if you find me so repulsive. Forgive me, Evelina.’

  ‘Go, then!’

  No, don’t leave me! The words echoed in her head but Eve could not voice them. Nick buttoned up the old frock-coat.

  ‘Richard will escort you back to Monkhurst tomorrow. If you are happy to remain there it will be a comfort to me to have you so close, but it could be dangerous. You need only say the word at any time and Richard shall take you to my brother.’

  ‘Monkhurst is my home now. I shall stay there. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Watch and wait. But you must be careful, and tell Martha she must watch her tongue, because no one else at Monkhurst knows I am alive. Send a message with Richard if you want to contact me.’

  ‘I will.’

  Eve’s heart leapt as he took a step towards her, but he stopped just out of arm’s reach and gave her a wry, apologetic smile.

  ‘Do not turn me into a monster while I am away from you, sweet heart. I shall give you no cause to distrust me ever again, I swear, but I need time to prove it to you.’

  ‘Wait!’ She gazed at him. Phrases such as ‘do not go’ and ‘stay with me’ rattled in her head, but instead she heard herself say, ‘Should I not go on to Hastings? Granby will have told you it was my intention to visit the spot where you…died. It might look suspicious if I do not continue.’

  ‘As you wish.’ He smiled at her and the sight of that wickedly attractive dimple made the breath catch in her throat. ‘Aye, go to Hastings. Let the world know that someone mourns my passing!’

  Nick kissed his fingers to her, turned on his heel and disappeared through the door in the panelling. Eve watched the door close behind him, felt the still ness of the room envelope her again. Then, as if released from a trap, she dashed across the room and ran her fingers over the wood, trying to find a handle or lever to open the door. There was nothing. She pressed her ear to the panel. Straining, she thought she heard his boots on the wooden stairs and the dull thud of the outer door closing behind him.

  He was gone.

  There was a scratching on the servants’ door and she went across to unlock it. Martha peeped in.

  ‘Shall I clear away now, mistress? It’s growing late and I don’t want to be traipsing through these passages once they have snuffed out the candles.’ She looked over Eve’s shoulder. ‘Where’s the master?’

  ‘He’s gone.’ Eve took a long breath, but she could not stop the tears spilling over. Martha put her arms about her and guided her to the bed.

  ‘There, there, Miss Eve. You come and sit here and tell Martha all about it.’

  ‘Th-there’s nothing to tell,’ sobbed Eve. ‘I—we…had a disagreement and…he l-left.’

  Eve subsided into tears and Martha clucked over her like a mother hen.

  ‘Good heavens, Miss Eve, never say he forced himself upon you!’

  ‘No,’ cried Eve in a fresh flood of tears. ‘No, of course he did not, I told him to g-go and…and he d-did! Stupid, stupid man!’

  Chapter Ten

  The journey to Hastings was accomplished with ease, the Winchelsea road having been repaired and opened again for coaches to pass through. There was no reception party waiting for her when she reached the town and the road leading down the hill to the little harbour was rutted and ill-used. As Richard Granby opened the carriage door for her to alight she glanced at him.

  ‘There is nothing here except fishing smacks. Tell me, Mr Granby, where are these business acquaintances that my husband was visiting?’

  The valet’s impassive countenance did not alter. ‘I cannot say, madam.’

  She pulled her veil down over her face. ‘Well, help me out, Granby. We must continue with this charade, although there is no one here to witness it.’

  ‘Oh I think you are wrong there, madam,’ muttered Granby, giving her his hand. He nodded towards a group of fishermen who were mending their nets in the shelter of an upturned boat. Eve had noticed them looking at the carriage and as she stepped down one of the men came across to her, tugging at his forelock with his gnarled fingers.

  ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, mistress, we sees yer coming down the road and thinks—well, seein’ yer widder’s weeds—we wonders if you be the cap’n’s widder? Cap’n Wyldfire?’

  Eve looked towards Granby and, as if aware of her eyes through the thick veil, he nodded slightly. She turned back to the fisherman. ‘Yes, I am,’ she said softly. ‘Did you—did you know my husband?’

  A wide, black-toothed grin split his weather-beaten face.

  ‘Aye, mistress, we all knew Cap’n Wyldfire. Proper sailor, he was, from the King’s navy, no less, and very generous ’e was, too, allus ready to stand buff in the Stag of an evenin’. He told us he’d come down ’ere to take out the villains what is givin’ us a bad name, sellin’ us their smouch that was no more real tea than that there seaweed.’ The grin disappeared and he shook his head. ‘It were a sad day when he drowned, mistress, an’ no mistake. We was all of us sorry to see the end o’ such a brave one.’

  Eve’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Were you with him, then? You saw my husband the night he—he—’

  ‘Lor’ bless you mistress, ’twas my boat, the Sally-Ann, he used that night. Wanted to get close to a brig that was sailing out o’ Hastings, see?’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘Oh, we got close, right enough, the cap’n and some of us had already boarded the brig, being friendly-like, and pretending we was interested in taking some o’ their cargo, but the Revenue cutter came up too soon. There was only a donkey’s breath o’ mist and as soon as they spotted her they set up the cry, knowin’ as how they’d been tricked. Set u
pon us, they did. The cap’n was quick to sound the retreat, got us all safely back on board the Sally-Ann, but one o’ they villains, he levels his pops at the cap’n and shoots him afore he can escape. Killed-dead he was. Went over the side without a murmur.’

  ‘And did you not try to find him, to recover the body?’

  ‘O’course we did, but there was no sign of him and we had to make sail, for the sea was carryin’ us towards Nore rocks. It were dulling-up by that time and with the brig bristling with guns we decided to make for the shore. The Revenue cutter did give chase, but not long enough.’ The fisherman showed his contempt for their efforts by turning his head to spit. ‘They may’ve scared ’em off for now, but they’ll be back, especially now they knows the cap’n ain’t here to gainsay ’em.’ The fisherman shook his head, and said in a reminiscent tone, ‘Aye, a great one, was Cap’n Wyldfire; allus on the gammock he was, looking for excitement or any sort o’ bobbery. We’ve been watching the beaches every day since then, missus, hopin’ his body would be washed up so we could give ’im a proper Christian burial up at All Saints. And there’s still time. We’ll keep a look-out, don’t ’ee worry.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Eve opened her purse and took out a handful of coins. ‘Here,’ she said, pressing them into the man’s hand. ‘When you and your crew go to the Stag tonight, I pray you drink a toast to my husband’s memory.’

  Again she was treated to the black grin.

  ‘Well now, missus, that’s very generous of ’ee, very generous. The sort o’ thing the cap’n would approve, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.’ He tugged his forelock once again and turned to the little group behind him. ‘Stan’ up, lads, stan’ up and pay yer respects to Wyldfire’s widow!’

  He tugged his forelock yet again as Eve turned back to the carriage.

  ‘Back to Monkhurst, madam?’ asked Granby, holding open the door.

  ‘Yes, if you please. But we will stop at the church before we leave Hastings, I think.’

  All Saints Church stood on the eastern edge of the town, high above the harbour and surrounded by its grave yard. As Eve climbed down from the carriage a shiver ran through her to think that this was where Nick might have been buried. The wind blew in from the coast, tugging at her bonnet and pressing the black veil to her face. She folded it back and breathed in the fresh sea air.