Whoever the earl might be to Lawrence, Mousy seemed to be well aware of the connection. The big man's shoulders slumped. “No,” he whispered, disbelieving. "I don't believe it."
“We can't outrun that ship, Mousy,” Lawrence said, his voice soft. “And I can't outrun fate. Not any more. Though I've had a better run than I deserved, thanks to you, but ...”
“Then I'm coming with ye,” Mousy said, folding his massive arms and butting in before he could finish the sentence.
Lawrence smiled at him, and it was full of warmth. “I know you would, I know you want to, but the men need you. You must get them away, Mousy, they won't make it without a good Captain.
Mousy shook his head and held out one meaty hand, a finger pointed at Lawrence. “No ... I ...” he began but Lawrence wouldn't listen.
“Dammit, man,” Lawrence shouted, growing angry now. He turned away and strode to his desk, tearing open the drawers until he found the bottle she had stashed there earlier. “This is my ship, these are my men,” he shouted, pulling the cork and throwing it to the floor. “I'll not go to my fate knowing they're all doomed too, and they will be unless they have someone with the wit to steer them true.” He stared at Mousy until the solid man seemed to crumple in on himself and looked at the floor, shaking his head.
“Never thought to see ye go like this.”
Lawrence shrugged and offered him the bottle. “Maybe it's for the best.”
Mousy frowned and drunk deep, his throat working as he swallowed the liquor. He lowered the bottle and stared at Lawrence. “Maybe ... Maybe 'e can 'elp ye?”
There was a snort of amusement from Lawrence as he took the bottle back. “Even the Earl of Falmouth doesn't have that kind of power, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he was just as eager to see me hanged, once ... once it all becomes clear.” The two men stared at each other. “Go and send the reply.”
Mousy hesitated for a moment before touching his forehead with his finger. “Aye, aye, Capt'n.”
“Good man.” Lawrence smiled at him as his large friend ducked his head and exited the cabin.
Henri sat in the chair by the desk, her hands clutching at the arms and suddenly unsure if her legs would hold her any longer. She was exhausted and the events of the past two days were so many and so violently different from anything she had experienced in her life before she could hardly believe any of it was real. It was as though she had been plunged into someone else's life and didn't know how she was supposed to act anymore. She put her hand to her temples. Her head was aching and she was overwhelmed. She couldn't bear the idea that Lawrence was going to sacrifice himself to save his men. Surely there had to be another way?
“Is there nothing else to be done?” she asked, looking up at him.
He was standing still, just staring across the room, but she knew he was looking into the past and seeing whatever events had chased him into the life he now led.
“No,” he replied. “Nothing.” He turned and smiled at her and went to settle himself in the chair on the other side of the desk. “That ship out there is the finest of her kind. She's fast, incredibly manoeuvrable and just ...” To her astonishment he grinned at her. “At least I'll get to sail aboard her for a day or two. I never thought I would.” He sat back in his chair, his finger tracing a pattern on the glass of the bottle. “I saw the first designs for her you see-I always told him she would be a beauty.”
“Told who?” she asked, watching him with tears pricking behind her eyes.
He turned to her and smiled, and this time there was warmth in the blue. “My brother, Alexander Sinclair.”
Chapter 15
“Wherein a pirate reminisces and reveals the truth.”
“Your brother!” she exclaimed. His face had become watchful, and she wondered what he was thinking because she didn't know what to think. “Your brother is the Earl of Falmouth?” she said, her voice faint.
“Yes, my brother ... and your fiancé,” he said.
She couldn't gauge what he thought about that. His expression was a careful blank and there was no tone to his voice. “Here,” he said, pouring a measure from the bottle into a small glass and sliding it across the desk to her. “Try not to drop it,” he added, smiling.
She took it and sipped, wincing at the strong taste but needing the warm burn as it slid down her throat.
“I don't understand why you are so desperate not to marry him,” he asked. He wasn't looking at her anymore, but had returned to drawing patterns on the glass bottle. “He is the very model of a nobleman, honourable and true ... not to mention wealthy,” he added, laughing, though that time she was certain there had been a bitter tone beneath the sound.
“I think,” she said, choosing her words with care. “That it has been some years since you have seen your brother.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?” he demanded, shifting and leaning forward, his arms crossed on the desk in front of him.
She hesitated, she didn't want to destroy the noble memory he may have cherished of a loving brother, but the man she had known, even so little as she had known him, had not lived up to that description.
“Speak your mind,” he shouted, and she jumped in her seat. Anger rose that he would speak to her so, that the soft intimacy of such a short time before had been so easily forgotten. “Your brother is a rake,” she said with disgust. “He is notorious for his womanising, his drinking and cold behaviour and I have seen nothing in him to believe those rumours to be based on anything but the truth.”
He stood so suddenly the chair he'd been sat on crashed to the floor but he didn't seem to notice. “You will take that back!” he shouted.
Henri gasped. “I will not!” she replied as his anger fired hers to greater heights. “Why do you think I would run away from a match to such an honourable man?” she demanded of him, slamming the glass down on the desk top in her anger. “I'd wager that you, a pirate, have more honour than that man has ever possessed.”
“You don't know a damned thing about him!” he raged. He stared at her, apparently too furious to speak, but eventually he shook his head, holding her gaze. “You don't know him, Henri,” he said, and she felt her anger dissolve at the soft way he said her name. “He was ever thus. He is older than me, you see, by almost ten years. He would always find a way to take the blame for my endless stupidity and carelessness. I was forever in trouble of one kind or another and he was forever pulling me out of it by my ears. Somehow he always managed to arrange it so that he was considered the guilty party and I was the golden son who could do no wrong. Until I made such a mess that even he couldn't save me ... though he almost died trying.” She saw the guilt in his eyes and realised this had been a burden he'd carried for many years.
“I thought I'd killed him,” he said suddenly. “I thought I'd killed him.” He leaned against the desk, one hand covering his eyes and Henri ran to him. She righted the chair and moved him to it, making him sit down.
She knelt in front of him, as she had earlier that day, and covered his hand with hers.
“That's why I came back.” His voice was quiet and he wouldn't look at her, his head bent, his eyes clearly trained on some memory that it pained him to recall. “No one but Mousy knows who I am, and I have avoided asking of those I once cared about ever since. They were as dead to me as I was to them, better for them that way. But then, by chance, Mousy heard that my father, the earl had died, he'd been ill a long time it seems. I just assumed the title would go to our cousin, and then we heard that Alex lived. It was like a miracle.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I came back then. Not because I could change anything. Not to try and apologise or explain for there are no words for that, and not to try and return to my old life. I knew that was long gone.” He gave a bitter laugh and her chest ached at the pain in his eyes. “I just wanted to see him with my own eyes, you see. To know he truly lived. All these years I've borne the guilt of it. The knowledge that I'd killed that good man, my brother
, the one who had always looked out for me. I would have done anything if I could only change that. But I was badly injured that night too, and by the time I was recovered enough to understand what had happened I was half way across the world. There was nothing I could do. I thought I was damned,” he whispered. “So what did it matter what I did? How I lived was of no consequence, I didn't intend to do it for long in any case.”
She squeezed his hand, willing him to look up. “You are not damned, Lawrence, and I imagine you never were, but your brother ... he is not the man you remember.”
He shook his head, and she could see her words had angered him again. “Maybe I wasn't damned that night but for all that followed ... I have not spent the last ten years of my life well, Henri. I have robbed and held men and women to ransom, for the fun of it as much as for the money,” he raged. “I enjoyed the thrill of it, you see, the danger, but it is not the kind of life that goes unpunished.” He sighed, and the anger seemed to drain away from him. “And nor should it,” he added.
“Lawrence, listen to me. I do not believe the man aboard that ship will help you, brother or no. He's not like you, he's certainly not the man you remember.” She drew to mind the brief interviews she had been subjected to, before the earl would deign to take her as his wife. She shuddered at the memory. “He's a cold and dangerous man, Lawrence. He's known for shredding his enemies. He destroyed Lord Heywood two years ago. The man shot himself after your brother took everything from him in a game of cards! He's even rumoured to ....” She came to a sudden halt as she realised what she was saying.
“To have killed his own brother?” he supplied for her, his voice quiet. “Yes, I heard that one. And now you see how you misjudge him. Alex did believe I was dead after that awful night, and he allowed people to believe he was responsible for it so my father wouldn't bear the shame of knowing his son was killed by the militia for smuggling, for that was what I was about that night. As it was it broke my father's heart.” He swallowed and looked up at her. “I don't know what happened to Lord Heywood, but I do know that the man was a fool, a bigger one if he tried to gamble against Alex. He never loses.”
Henri sat with her mind spinning out of control. Could she really have misjudged the man so badly?
“So you believe he'll try and save you?” she asked at last.
He frowned, and for a moment he seemed at a loss for an answer. “I truly don't know. The Alex I knew would have done most anything to save me but ... but he believed in honour too, and I think the man I have become ...” He shook his head. “I think he will believe I have earned my fate, Henri. I hope perhaps that will sadden him, but truly, after what I did, I would expect him to send me to the gallows with no regrets.”
“No!” she shouted, reaching out and grabbing hold of his arms. She wanted to shake him. “I won't let them hang you, I won't!”
He looked so surprised by her outburst that she almost laughed, but his smile when it came took her breath away. He lifted her chin with his knuckle and his eyes on her were so full of warmth she felt the heat of it as though she was sat by a fire.
“It is good to know there is one who will mourn me a little.”
“Oh, Lawrence!” she said, her voice thick, and then she couldn't look at him anymore for her eyes filled with tears. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Chapter 16
“Wherein a pirate faces the past and embraces fate.”
Lawrence looked down at the girl at his feet. How on earth had he managed to get her entangled in this almighty mess ?
“Hey,” he said, putting his hand out and tugging lightly at her wrist, but she wouldn't uncover her face and look at him. He sighed and got up before reaching down and lifting her to her feet.
“There, there, my sweet little minx,” he murmured against her hair as he pulled her into his arms. With guilt that stabbed at him with a fine, cold blade, he realised he had no business holding her so. She belonged to Alex, no matter what the foolish child thought. She didn't know his brother like he did. Alex would be a fine husband, he would make sure she had everything she could possibly desire. She would be safe and well and ... damn it all why did the idea of her in Alex's arms make his chest tighten. She was Alex's, he told himself firmly. He'd wronged his brother so much already, he wouldn't compound it by trying to take his fiancée! He'd consign himself to hell before he did any more harm to the brother he'd idolised in his youth. But then, he realised with a grim smile, he'd likely be going there anyway.
His thoughts ground to a halt, though, as he realised she had wrapped one arm around his waist and the other was beneath his coat and rested over his heart. He could feel the heat of her small hand burning through his shirt. He was suddenly aware of the flutter of her breath against his neck, and then the soft brush of her lips against his jaw.
He closed his eyes, telling himself he would just savour this moment, as it would be the last time he ever held her. But then she kissed him again, this time her lips a little lower. Once more her mouth moved, down his neck, and this time he felt the slightest touch of a warm tongue against his skin, and damn if that didn't make his skin feel stretched too tight and awaken his every desire.
“Don't,” he said, but the word didn't sound right, it sounded too much like oh, God, yes, when it was followed by a sharp intake of breath as her hand slid down his chest and lingered just below his naval. Once again her hand slipped under his shirt, her fingers moving over his skin, teasing the flesh so close to his waistband, touching him with feather-soft delicacy, as if she knew she only had to stray a little lower and any shred of control that remained would be unravelled beyond repair. She pressed her body against him and his hard length pressed into the softness of her belly. He imagined how it would feel if he laid her down, if her legs closed around his hips, pulling him inside her, welcoming him into her heat. Her mouth continued to press hot little kisses against his skin, moving back up his neck as her fingers trailed back and forth, making him shiver with need, the need to lay her down on the bed and lose himself in her, in the unholy longing to make her his alone; though she was anything but his and never could be.
He snatched at her hands, holding her away from him before the little devil could discover how to tempt him further, and thanked heaven that she really was an innocent as his will power was stretched to its limits. But then he made the mistake of looking down at her. There was such fire in those tawny brown eyes, such demand for his attention. Did she really know what it was she was asking him for? He wondered if she would look like that for Alex and then squashed the thought before it could turn to anger. He knew how she had looked for him at least, when she had rubbed herself against him, seeking her own pleasure like a sinuous cat. Damn but he could feel his control slipping further, his desire for her turning from an pleasant ache to a physical pain just thinking about it. As if reading his mind she leaned into him harder, pressing her body against his and raising her mouth, inviting him to kiss her. He held her hands still, restraining her, but he was too desperate to deny her. He accepted the invitation she gave, slanting his mouth over hers and devouring the exquisite little moan of desire that escaped her. The kiss deepened as their tongues danced and parried and the little breathless moan came again, making his blood burn under his skin. Oh God he wanted to hear her moan and squeal and cry out his name as she came apart ... and then he remembered his brother. He pulled away.
“I can't!” he shouted in frustration, his voice rough. He dropped her hands as though she had burned him. Stepping away he turned his back on her, trying not to see the hurt that made those wide, doe eyes glisten. “You belong to Alex.”
“Oh!” she shouted, and though he hadn't been looking he was almost sure she'd stamped her foot in rage. “I belong to no man. I will not be someone's property!” The next thing he knew she was hitting him with small but well placed blows that rained down upon his back with quite surprising force.
“Henri!” He tried to evade her but as he was unwilling to
touch her for fear he would simply give in and take her to his bed, his efforts were thwarted as she followed him about the room, apparently unwilling to give quarter. “Henri, stop that!”
“I won't stop until you stop being such a blithering idiot!” she railed against him in utter fury.
He ducked as she changed tack and his bottle of rum went flying over his head and smashed against the far wall. “Dammit, that wasn't empty!” he raged as the overpowering scent of liquor filled the small cabin. With growing alarm he realised she was scanning the room for another missile and he had no choice but to risk giving her a shake.
“Calm yourself, you damned little hellion!” he shouted, with all the authority of a man well used to commanding a ship of over eighty cut-throats. She seemed singularly unimpressed. Belatedly he realised it may not have been the correct way to address her either as her eyes flashed and she stamped on his toes with all her might.
He hauled in a breath, before he sullied her ears with some of his choicer expressions.
“I will not be calm,” she shouted, wriggling out of his grasp and pushing him to illustrate her words. “Don't you realise that your brother will never marry me now in any case! I'm ruined, remember?”
“He damn well will,” Lawrence growled, even thought the very idea of her as Alex's wife made his teeth clench and gave him the strong desire to hit something. “I'll see that he does if it's the last thing I do!”
And just like that her rage disappeared, her eyes filled once more and to his dismay her bottom lip trembled, and oh, good God, he had never wanted to kiss a woman more than he did at this moment.
“Henri,” he said, keeping his voice soft, and so obviously full of regret that it seemed to shred any remaining control she had and she fell against his chest, sobbing.
“I won't marry him, I won't! I won't!” she said through her tears. “I don't belong to him, I never will.”
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