Backing away hastily, she slammed into a large trunk.
“Bloody hell!” she cursed. The door swung open. In stalked her captor. Her arms were flailing about as she tried to keep herself from falling on her ass. Rafe reached out for her, and caught her before she fell to the floor. “Don’t think I’m going to thank you.”
She pulled away from him, and served him with her best withering stare. It had always served to intimidate everyone else that she knew, and yet he stared back at her with a neutral expression on his face.
Then, to gall her even further, he chuckled. The throatiness of it caressed her, and in some weird way it appeased her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared up at him through half lowered lashes.
“‘Course you wouldn’t thank me. Because then I’d start thinking you were a proper young lady, befitting a woman of your gentle birth.”
She bristled even more at his sarcastic remark. He still held one hand behind his back, and when he held it out toward her, her breath caught in her throat. She reached eagerly for her rose coloured reticule, but at the last moment, he pulled it out of her reach.
“You needn’t seem too eager,” he whispered, his voice at a dead calm. “I have taken the liberty of extracting your pistol. What bothers me, my dear, is why you didn’t choose to use it on me before.”
Uneasily, she looked away from his penetrating gaze, and scraped the toe of her traveling boot against the floor. “If you give it to me, I’ll use it now,” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled again, but this time it snowballed into full out laughter. His laughter boomed out around her, filling the intimate space. She huffed out a large gust of air, and took a voluntary step toward him.
“Pray, hand over my reticule. I don’t give a fig where you stuffed that blasted pistol. I don’t need it. I’ll get away from you without it. I don’t even care if you’ve stolen the coins I had inside. I realize the temptation would have proved to be far too great for a man such as yourself. I mean you are basically a thief, aren’t you? Besides, I shan’t bother you for long…I shall escape from you in due course.”
His eyes sobered at that remark, and he stopped laughing.
“I can assure you, Miss Elizabeth, that there is nowhere you can run to that will hide you from me. I’m like a bloodhound, and I have caught your beguiling scent. You need never fear that I shall ever forget it!”
His fervent declaration, made her heart begin pounding against her ribcage. It thundered so loudly, that she feared he might hear it. She’d had many suitors, but there had only been one man other than Rafe that had affected her so deeply.
She had danced with him several times at Lady Belmont’s Ball. Whenever she thought of Lady Belmont, she fondly remembered the plump matronly woman, with a crown of graying hair.
Shame flooded her face, and she knew she was as red as a hot poker, as she remembered what that delicious man had brought her to the brink of that night. She had not even known his name, and yet she had acted wantonly with him. She had allowed him to lead her out to the estates maze.
They had lost themselves within, and he had begun making ardent love to her. But he hadn’t been the only one participating in the ravishing. She had responded in kind, and had become more alive in his arms than she had ever felt.
He was just about to take her maidenly honour, when another amorous couple had rudely interrupted them intent upon their own illicit assignation. Unfortunately, the man in the couple had been a friend of her aunt’s. She had been hauled out of the maze, and she had never laid eyes on her mystery lover again. She’d acted like a wanton hussy with him, and hadn’t regretted one moment of it.
She sighed mournfully, and then stared up at Rafe. He gazed at her in the most unusual way. He seemed about to gobble her up, with his eyes. Swallowing thickly, she gestured toward her reticule.
“Might I please have it?” She yearned to fold her hands around the reticule. Inside rested one of her most cherished possessions, something that she valued above anything else in her life.
“You, my dear, are very fortunate that you resemble your mother, more than you resemble your father. Although the black hair…that might come from your father’s side. Though I daresay that Lady Susan favoured her mother’s side over her father’s side.”
“How do you know so many intimate details of my life?” she demanded. Crossing the short distance to him, she managed to rip the reticule from his lax grip.
“I’ve studied you and your family well. You might say that I know your maternal grandmother’s side of the family, as well as I know the back of my hand.”
“You, sir, are a dirty rotten bastard.”
“Well, shall we chalk that up to another one of your colourful insults thrown at me? You seem to have an endless supply.” He extended his hand toward her, and gently tilted her face up so that he could look at her straight in the eyes. “Why, are those tears glimmering in your eyes?” his question was spoken in a soft, and almost tender voice.
She jerked her chin out of his gentle hold, and took an involuntary step backward.
“You have brought sentimental memories to the forefront of my mind. Pray, do not flatter yourself, you were not the source of my tears.”
She grimaced, as one large tear escaped its watery prison. She quickly reached her hand up to brush it away, but she was too late, for he beat her to it. She had shown him a sign of weakness, and now she hated herself for it!
“I should bloody well hope not!” He turned away from her, and folded his hands behind his back. “You shall occupy the cabin next to this one. I can see that it was built and decorated with you in mind, from the beautiful pianoforte to the lovely little writing desk that would be far too delicate for a man to like. Far be it for me to get in the way of your comfort. I am well aware that you are accustomed to being pampered like a spoiled little princess.”
“Yes, I’ve always been lavished with untold riches.” Her voice was flat, and he turned around to toss a curious expression at her.
“Many would be delighted to be in your boots,” he murmured, staring down at her feet.
“Do you not think that I am grateful for the life that I have? Well, I am!” She lifted her chin proudly. “After all, who wouldn’t want to be the daughter of a man that takes cruel pleasure in other’s suffering? And, who wouldn’t want to be a girl prized only for her heavy coffers?
“You needn’t fear. I know how blessed I am. Indeed, my family knows how blessed I am, and my aunt campaigned quite a great deal to marry me off to her only son as a means to keep the money in the family, greedy little wretch that she is!
“You, see, she didn’t exactly take kindly to my grandfather breaking up his estate and giving me half of his fortune. She believed it should all be for her precious Raleigh. I suppose that’s when life started to change for me in England, when I started to feel like a stranger in my own home.
“My cousin for his own part loves me true…or at least I believe he does. He could just be a better thespian than my aunt…I never know. The only two members of my family upon whom I could always trust loved me with no caveat, was my precious Mama and my beloved Grandfather. My Mama always had my best interests in my mind. Oh, how I miss her. She has been in the ground for over ten years. So, you needn’t lecture me, sir. I know what is important in life!”
*****
Mallory had experienced the ferocity of Elizabeth’s passion once before, but never had he seen her so inspired. Her eyes flashed with untold fire, and her face was glowing like that of an angel. He yearned to gather her into his arms. But he had time to lure her into his bed. He just had to make sure that he cajoled her into his bed before they reached the shores of England.
“If you would come with me I shall escort you to your cabin.” He gallantly offered her his arm. “Do not get any foolish ideas in that pretty little head of yours. We have already left Chesapeake Bay. You will find yourself overboard in the ocean, if you try to flee from me. I’d warrant th
e sharks would find you to be a tasty little morsel.”
He almost grinned, at the shudder that passed through her.
“You may be assured that I will not be as idiotic as to try and throw myself into the sea. I do possess a brain.”
“Aye, I know that. It’s your possession of a heart that I’m worried about.”
She served him with a pinched up constipated expression, and damn it all, he nearly laughed.
*****
“Rafe, you are the one that requires the donation of a heart.” Even though she’d muttered her insult beneath her breath, she could see by his body language that he had indeed heard her. Fear rippled through her. She didn’t know if she feared his touch… or what she would feel when he touched her.
*****
Mallory stopped abruptly, and turned to gaze down at her in disbelief. He would be sure to watch his step around her from now on, for he had not banked on the keen intelligence that she obviously possessed.
“You, my dear, should be an agent in His Majesty’s Secret Service.” His tone was dry and held the slightest irritation. He had hoped to be able to reveal his true identity to her in due course.
In the meantime, he’d allow her to call him Jack. Jonathan was one of his many given names, and some of his chums in England had come up with the nickname. His family, however, always called him Mallory. And that was how he wanted it. Having various identities was a feather in his cap. He could distance himself from the people he didn’t care about, and when he returned to England, he could assume the identity of a penniless duke.
“Are you named after the Archangel Raphael?” Her voice was soft, and without a hint of malice. Swallowing thickly, he sighed. She turned her head to stare inquiringly up at him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stay annoyed at her for very long.
“You could say that,” he murmured, smiling lazily.
On the High Seas he was known as Captain Morgan—a moniker he used as a special homage to his father, Morgan St. Martin. Usually, his men called him Captain Morgan. It was only Ethan that took the liberty of calling him Rafe, and to Ethan it was an inside joke.
“Oh, really. How astonishing. I would have called you Bluebeard.”
Her well-placed jibe hit a raw nerve, and he nearly grabbed a hold of her. But if he did, he’d soon have his hands all over her, bringing her to the edge of ecstasy. No, she deserved much more than that. He would make sure that he tortured her first, before she reached that highest of peaks. And, he’d enjoy every single moment of it.
They walked to the cabin in an uneasy silence. He glanced down at her a few times, and decided that her implacable expression was really too much to bear. Her face was screwed up so tightly that he feared it might just crack.
“You will find that whatever you need has been deposited into your cabin.”
“You are too kind,” she snapped. Her words were quick, and stung him to his very core.
“I know. Because if I wasn’t such a generous soul, I’d make you stay in my cabin and in my bed.” He dazzled her with his best attempt at a wolfish smile.
That shut her up. She clamped her mouth closed, and thinned her lips into an unreadable line. Seeking to destroy his ego even further, she laughed carelessly. The sultriness of it nearly brought him to his knees. He was becoming hard just hearing it. He needed to get away from her, before he ruined his master plan. She was just about to say something when he none too politely slammed the door in her face.
What she didn’t know, was that Captain Treacher had spilled everything about the ship. Treacher had even told him about the secret doorway that linked the captain’s cabin to Elizabeth’s cabin.
Treacher had sworn that he had never used it while Elizabeth was aboard, but the man was married, and he and his wife preferred to habitat separate sleeping areas. Though, as Treacher had described it, a man and a wife, did have to have nighttime dalliances every so often.
Mallory would take full advantage of the knowledge at his disposal. When the time came he would pay Elizabeth a nighttime visit, and he would show her that he was definitely the man of her dreams.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth collapsed wearily onto the small writing chair that sat in front of her rosewood desk. The cabin lacked no extravagance. Everything was as she had it in any of her other private abodes, except on a much smaller scale. She slowly unbuttoned her rose coloured pelisse, and tossed it on the bed. Sighing, she reached for her reticule, which lay on her desk. Opening it, she produced her most treasured possession.
She stared wistfully down at the miniature portrait that she held in her hands. She glanced at the image of herself at seven years of age, and then riveted her eyes on her mother’s heart-shaped face.
“Oh, how I need your sage advice,” she murmured, brushing her fingertip tenderly across the face of her mother. Sighing heavily once again, she placed the portrait on her small bedside table.
Slowly, she stood up, and arched her back. Her eyelids were drooping, and she knew that she would collapse soon, if she did not take care. She began singing a favourite tune of hers, called The Valiant Lady. Her music master had been delighted and impressed by the depth of her talent. If she’d had the energy, she would have pulled out her guitar, or moved to sit at her custom fitted pianoforte that sat across from her bed.
The ship lurched beneath her again, causing her to fall against the bedpost. She could feel the familiar signs of nausea overtaking her, as it always did at the beginning of a sea voyage. She broke off her song in the middle of a verse, and sank down onto the oak chest at the end of the bed. Breathing deeply, she tried to will away the sickness that boiled in her stomach.
Her hands were clammy, and her forehead raged with heat. Shaking her head, she stood up again on wobbly knees. She had never been a sea-faring creature. She far preferred the solid ground beneath her feet than the rocking of a ship, even if that ship happened to belong to her.
Grimacing, she placed her hand over her stomach, and searched for a bucket. When her search turned out to be in vain, she drew in a shuddering breath, and hobbled toward the door.
Plucking up her almost shattered stamina, she rapped soundly on the door to gain someone’s attention. In less than two minutes, it was unlocked and wrenched open. She stared at Rafe, and nearly smiled at the ludicrous expression he wore. But presently, she was unable to smile for fear of losing what little she’d last eaten.
“If you know what is good for you, you will move and allow me up to the deck.” She didn’t know how she managed to speak without retching all over him.
He must have taken in her sickly pale face, for he stood aside, and then pursued her as she raced up to the deck. She made her way past a few sailors to the rail. What happened next, was not at all dignified or lady like.
She had never been able to handle rough waters. During the ocean crossing, she normally stayed holed up in her cabin while in the throes of misery. She wasn’t always seasick, but she did normally have terrible headaches that made her head feel as if it was about to explode. She chanced a glance out of the corner of her eye, and watched as Rafe came up behind her.
Stiffening with apprehension, she was not ready for the soothing cool touch that he pressed to the nape of her neck. He handed her a teacup filled with water. She drank it down thirstily, and thankfully accepted the handkerchief that he offered her.
“Breathe in the fresh salty air,” he murmured. “Fresh air is the only cure for what ails you, Elizabeth.”
She looked up, at the white masts waving in the strong wind.
“You needn’t worry. If fair winds are willing, we shall be in British waters in no time at all.”
Elizabeth began to relax, and stared up at the setting sun. Multiple colours swirled on the horizon, and the big fluffy clouds were dancing merrily in the bright blue sky. The strong waves rocked against The Valiant.
“Your father has a fine ship in The Valiant,” Rafe whispered.
Unconsciously, she leane
d against him.
“You are mistaken, sir. I have a fine ship in The Valiant. In fact, most of my father’s ships belongs to me. The ships were a gift given to me on my sixteenth birthday.”
“I daresay that is a grand gift.”
“Aye. But my father thought it to be a brilliant jest. You may have already surmised that I do not care for traveling the High Seas. Papa delights in giving such gifts for others, because their misery becomes his happiness.”
She looked to see if he would have mockery dancing in his blue orbs, but to her complete bafflement, he was staring at her solemnly, and waiting for her to elaborate. When she remained silent, he took his turn to speak.
“My own dear sister does not care for life on the water. But then she fancies horse racing, so it is probably just as well. The ponies are her life,” he laughed. “The only problem is, she gives us all fits by the way she rides on her own horses, with such a devil may care attitude. She rides with such abandon, as if she is a wild woman. She tells me I may have sea in my blood, but she has racing in hers,” he laughed. She watched him closely. He might be a great many things, but he did adore his sisters, and they were quite lucky to have such a devoted brother. He inhaled a deep lungful of air. “Well go on, Elizabeth, breathe in a deep breath of air, let it refresh you…let it heal you.”
She did as he wanted her to, and actually smiled, as some of her nausea dissipated. He was right. She did feel a bit better. “Sometimes,” he said, “life as a sailor can be treacherous and tedious. If the wind does not blow in your favour, all is lost, so I suppose I share that devilishly wild streak with my dear Gemma.”
She smiled weakly, and found that she was beginning to forget about her churning stomach. He was distracting her on purpose to be sure, but she did not mind one bit. Something made her lift her eyes skyward, toward the ship’s flag. Gasping, she pointed horror stricken at the abominable black-and-white flag that blew in the wind.
“Take that down at once!” she ordered. “What, what do you mean by that? Don’t you know that being a swashbuckling pirate has fallen out of fashion, sir?” Strangely enough, she gradually returned to her normal self. His eyes danced at her, but he remained unusually silent. “That is forbidden, that is…terrible!” Again she gave him the stare that made most men relent, but he was not swayed in the slightest.
His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) Page 3
