“But he did not injure you?”
“No, Lord Cameron, he did not injure me.”
“Skye! We are soon to live together as man and wife. My given name is Petroc, a whim of my mother’s, and those who are close to me call me Roc. I would hear that name from you.”
She smiled stiffly and felt a chill sweep over her. As last she could meet his eyes, for he had ceased to plague her about her adventures. “Roc,” she murmured obligingly.
“It sounds well upon your sweet lips, milady.”
“Tell me, sir,” she said, sitting forward. “How is my father.”
“Well and good,” he assured her. “He will meet us at Cameron Hall.”
“Cameron Hall?” she said with dismay.
“What is wrong with that, milady?”
“Nothing. Why, nothing, of course. I had just thought that we would sail for Williamsburg.”
“Ah.” His dark lashes fell briefly over his eyes. He stood and moved away from her, sipping his wine and idly pulling back one of the drapes. It was nearly dark beyond the light from the cabin, Skye saw.
He dropped the curtain. “Williamsburg has vastly changed, you will discover. Governor Spotswood has moved into his new manor, and it is all but complete. He has hosted many an elegant ball there. The magazine is complete and filled with muskets and swords for the militiamen. The Bruton parish church has been rebuilt since you were home, and more and more merchants flock to the town daily. Even coming from London, my dear, I believe that you will be impressed with the growth of our capital city.”
“I’m sure I shall.”
“Not that we shall be so very close to Williamsburg.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Cameron Hall, milady. It is a good three hours down the James. Closer to Jamestown, but on higher ground. We do, of course, come into the city now and then. You will not be so completely isolated.”
She felt as if the bars of a new prison were falling quickly shut upon her.
“I wonder, milord—”
“Oh, you needn’t fret so uncomfortably, milady. I have already heard that you are opposed to the marriage.”
She stared at him, her eyes flashing. “Well, milord, I have heard that you, too, were opposed!”
He inclined his head, smiling. “Ah, but that was before I sailed the seas for you, milady!”
She flushed, and swallowed down the whole of her wine after all. Lord Cameron quickly stood, taking her glass to refill it. She watched him walk away. He was a tall man, too, with a long back and broad shoulders. She imagined that beneath his finery he was well muscled and toned. She shivered suddenly, and did not know why. He was unerringly polite, yet she sensed that his temper might be great when provoked.
“Milord—”
“Roc, Skye. Please, you must be comfortable with my given name.”
“Roc—” She paused, gritting her teeth. He came around, facing her. He placed her wineglass down before her again and moved away, this time perching upon the corner of his desk. He waited expectantly. “Roc, I do with all my heart appreciate your trouble and valor in coming so swiftly to my rescue. And the expense, of course—”
“The expense?” He arched a brow.
“The—the expense,” she repeated, faltering. “The ransom! I’m sure that he charged you dearly for my return.”
“Why, not at all, milady.”
“You are too polite and generous, milord.”
“Not at all. I tell you the truth. The pirate didn’t charge me a single farthing for your return.”
She gasped out loud, coming to her feet. “He what?”
Lord Cameron’s dark lashes flickered over his silver eyes. “Why the distress, milady? We paid for the seamen, the ship, and the maids, but you, my dear, were returned to us through goodwill.”
“He did not even charge you for me!”
His brow flew up. She quickly tried to hide her distress, falling back into her chair, swallowing down her second glass of wine.
“I repeat, my dear, he did not charge for you.”
She lowered her head quickly, but there came a knock upon the captain’s door, and Lord Cameron quickly answered it. “Thank you, Mr. Monahan,” he said, directing a hefty sailor with a huge serving tray to the table. “My dear, this is Mr. Monahan, the cook’s assistant. Mr. Monahan, my Lady Skye.”
“Lady,” Mr. Monahan said, bowing deeply as he set the tray down with a flourish. He lifted the silver cover from the serving plate. “Pheasant, milady, stuffed with nuts and cornmeal and raisins. I hope that it will be to your pleasure.”
“I’m sure that it shall, Mr. Monahan,” she said sweetly. Then there was silence as Mr. Monahan prepared the plates. Skye waited uneasily until he was gone and cast a gaze toward Lord Cameron. Her heart catapulted when she discovered that he was staring at her deeply and intently. The cabin was too small for the two of them. She longed to escape him. She desperately, desperately needed to be alone.
“Do you feel ill?” he asked her when Mr. Monahan had left them. He took his place opposite from her.
She shook her head. “I—I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine. She didn’t feel well at all. She picked up her fork and played idly with her food.
He was still watching her, paying no heed to his food. “The governor intends to clean out the pirates, you know. Lieutenant Governor Spotswood, that is. He is bold man, adventurous and determined. Where other men in power turn their heads, he stands strong. He will see all the pirates swept from the seas, skewered through or brought to trial. Then they may hang from the neck until dead.”
She set her fork down.
“Skye, whatever is the matter?”
She shook her head, then she stared at him. “How can you be so callous? The man is your cousin.”
“Cousin!” He shuddered. “Several times removed, milady, I do assure you. And lady, after all that has been done to you, I would think that you would rejoice to know that the scourge will be cleansed from the sea. Can you find the likes of pirates pleasant? Logan and his crew? The late One-Eyed Jack? Mr. Teach?”
“Of course not! I find them despicable. It’s just that—”
“What?”
“You spoke of one who is your own blood, that is all.”
“Barely, milady.”
“Even your looks—”
“An accident of birth, and I don’t care to be reminded of it.”
“But you do know one another! You negotiate and speak, else I could not be here so swiftly.”
“Bone Cay is the safest of the pirate havens, and the Hawk is perhaps the most dependable of the buccaneers; no more, milady. Aye, we speak. We come to agreements, that is all.”
She lowered her head, still feeling queasy. “There is a precedent,” she murmured.
“Pardon?”
“Sir Francis Drake,” she said, and then she realized that she was repeating words she had heard from the Silver Hawk.
“Yes?” Lord Cameron arched a brow.
“He—he was a privateer. Men set sail against the Spanish, and even when we were not at war, Elizabeth turned her head while her Englishmen ravaged Spanish ships. When the Stuarts came to the throne, the mode continued. We created these men. And now they flourish. But where does the line come,Lord Cameron? Some were privateers, sanctioned by their governments. Some are cutthroats, and some simple thieves.”
“Simple thieves have been known to hang. Trust me, the pirates will do so, too.”
“Including the Silver Hawk?”
“I shall escort you myself to the execution.”
She was silent. The pheasant was delicious; she had no appetite. The wine churned in her stomach.
“Let’s not speak of this, milady. The past is over; you are safe with me. You do seem well. You were not harmed? In any way?”
A dark flush came quickly to her features. The question, she knew, was far more intimate than the words alone could convey.
“I was treated well enough,” she said. S
he folded the corners of her napkin together in her lap. What did he know? Why did he stare at her so probingly, with his unusual eyes of silver, as riveting as the Hawk’s? He could know nothing! she told herself.
“You’re quite sure?” he asked.
“I was well treated!” she repeated.
“Tell me about it.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Tell me what happened. I am most anxious to hear, and the governor will want information, too.”
“I—”
“The ship was seized first by One-Eyed Jack and his men, is that right?”
“Uh—yes.”
“But then the prize was stolen from one pirate by another, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“The Hawk, of course, instantly knew your value.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
He stroked his chin. “How strange. He then decided to release you, asking nothing for you.” He leaned forward. “So you came to know him well.”
“Well enough.”
“And you were imprisoned separately from the others?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
The rapid, spitfire questions had her reeling, feeling deeply on the defensive. She leaped to her feet, allowing her chair to fall back. “Stop! I do not care to speak about it longer!”
“But you were treated well!” he reminded her.
“Lord Cameron!” She stared at him with all the icy reserve that she could summon. “I do not care to speak of it anymore! Not now, not ever! Governor Spotswood will seek out his pirates, and he will slay them all, no doubt! But I cannot go on tonight, do you understand me, sir?”
He came around, righting her chair. His hands fell upon her shoulders and she was startled by the strength of him. He spoke softly, his voice low, well modulated. He was a lord, a gentleman, yet more than ever she had the feeling that he was not to be underestimated, that a simmering anger lay deep within him, and that if it rose to the surface, it would be dangerous indeed.
“Sit, milady. I have not meant to distress you.”
“I am not distressed.”
“I am grateful to hear that. We will speak no more of it for now. The future lies before us, and we should not speak of the past.”
She raised her eyes to his. “I am grateful, Lord Cameron. I am very grateful for your presence here, for the fact that you came so swiftly to my rescue. I will not marry you.”
He arched a brow.
“You will not marry me?”
“No.”
“Your father gave promise.”
She shook her head impatiently. “I know, sir, that you did not wish to marry me—”
“Perhaps I have changed my mind.”
She gritted her teeth. “I have not changed mine.”
“I don’t think that you understand. My will is very strong.”
“I don’t think you understand. I promise that my will can be of steel when I so choose.”
“You cannot change what is.”
“But I do not want—”
“You insult my family name, milady,” he said pleasantly, but his eyes flashed their silver warning.
“This was a fool’s bargain made by two doting fathers when we were just children. I was an infant. You cannot hold me to this.” She pushed away from the table and stood. “If you will excuse me now, sir, I am very exhausted.”
He stood, too, and came around the table, blocking her way to the door. He did not touch her, but he watched her, and she didn’t know if his silver eyes danced with humor or fury.
“I’m afraid that I cannot excuse you as yet, milady.”
“Oh, and why is that? Truly, Lord Cameron, you are not displaying the manners of a good gentle peer in the least!”
“My apologies, milady. But there is something that you must know before you quit this cabin.”
She tossed back her head with her most imperious manner. “And what, pray tell, Lord Cameron, is that?”
“Only this, milady. Protest comes too late.”
“What are you talking about?” She frowned. A certain dread came to settle over her. She longed to flee before he could speak. There would be no way. She could not barge past him. He was too tall, towering against the door. His shoulders, for all their elegant apparel, were too broad.
“I’m afraid that by the law, we are legally wed.”
“What?”
“Your father was quite concerned even as you set sail from the English shore. We were wed by proxy the day you left London behind. You see, my dear, whether it pleases you or not, it is done.”
He waited, allowing the words to settle over her. She was silent, stunned. Her father could not have done such a thing to her!
He sighed deeply, but spoke with a frightening edge to his voice.
“Madame, you are my wife, and that is that.”
She shook her head, disbelieving. “No!”
“Yes.”
“I will fight it.”
“I will not allow you.”
“You must! You cannot love me! You must let me go.”
“No.”
He said the word with such finality that she found herself shivering.
But then he stepped aside from the door, opening it for her. He bowed deeply. She stiffened, and walked by him. He caught her arm briefly.
“I will never let you go,” he said. “You will become reconciled.”
“I will never become reconciled. We will be wretched!”
“Then wretched, my love, we will be.” He released her, bowing deeply. “Good night, my love.”
The door closed, and she was left alone in the hallway.
X
Skye stormed down the corridor to the door to her own cabin. She cast it open to step inside, and when she did, the darkness surrounded her.
She leaned against the door, swallowing, closing her eyes.
If only!
If only One-Eyed Jack had never spotted the Silver Messenger, if only the Silver Hawk had not come behind him. She had been mistress upon the Silver Messenger, her father’s ship, and she had never needed to fear the darkness there, for she had always been surrounded by lamps and candles. Now, no matter what her feelings for the man, no matter what lay between them, she would have to go with him. The clammy hand of terror was already upon her. If she did not move swiftly …
She moved away from the door just as a tap came upon it. It opened, and she saw that Lord Cameron stood there, a lamp in his hands glowing cheerfully against the darkness. “Milady,” he murmured, bowing to her and handing her the light.
Unnerved, she felt her fingers tremble as she took it from him. “How did you know!” she gasped out.
“It is my ship. That is why I knew that there was no lamp here,” he told her.
He had known that there was no light, not that she was terrified beyond reason of the darkness.
“And,” he added, “your father has warned me that you do not care for the darkness.”
“Oh,” she murmured, lowering her lashes. Drat father! she thought. What had he been doing to her? Giving away her every secret, and selling her, body and soul! “Er … thank you,” she managed. Still, he hovered there in her doorway. Darkness hid his eyes and his features and she sensed him on different levels. Perhaps the Hawk had made her more attuned to the body. She felt the heat and energy of his presence, and breathed the scent of him. He smelled of very fine leather and good Virginia tobacco in a subtle and pleasant way. He was not at all, as a man, repulsive.
He was her husband, or so he claimed, she reminded herself, and was seized with a fierce shivering. He had given her a separate cabin, she quickly assured herself. He would not fall upon her, he would not demand his marital rights.
But perhaps he would!
He stepped through the doorway and looked about the cabin. “Is everything to your comfort?”
“Everything is fine!” she cried with vehemence. He looked her way, a smile curving into his lip.
“You are very nervous, milady.”
“I have been greatly unnerved by your comments.”
“You mustn’t despair.” He came closer to her. She backed against the wall, turning her head from his, terrified that he meant to touch her. She had fallen from the arms of one charming rogue to another, she thought briefly, one a pirate and one a lord, and both far too arrogant and assured.
His knuckles grazed over her cheek. She barely held back a scream, and a soft gasp escaped her.
“You are my wife,” he said.
“I am not your wife!” She stared at him again, her eyes sizzling. “And don’t be so sure that all the pirates shall hang! I have come from London, sir, and I am far more abreast of certain news. I was in the mother country when Queen Anne died, when they reached over to Hanover for King George. The rights for trial upon men such as Hornigold and Blackbeard and—and the Silver Hawk—must come directly from the monarch. No new commissions have been granted by King George as yet. It was my understanding—”
“My dear lady, do tell me! Just what is your understanding, and from where do you draw upon it?”
“I do read the papers, Lord Cameron. And there was a great deal of talk in high places about the king offering a pardon to what pirates would surrender and swear an oath by a certain date. Perhaps these fellows will surrender, and there will be no need for murder.”
“Murder! You call the death of a pirate murder?”
He spoke with a certain ferocity, but she sensed that he was smiling beneath it. Was he laughing at her? Was he furious with her? She didn’t know.
“Bloodshed, Lord Cameron.”
“You are opinionated.”
“Yes! I am most opinionated, and very brash and outspoken, not at all ladylike, and surely not possessing qualities that you might want in a wife!”
“Ah! So you admit that you are my wife!”
“No!” she cried, alarmed, pressing ever backward against the paneling. She tried to straighten, to stand firm. He was a gentleman, a lord. He would not seize her, would he? “No! Why in God’s name are you doing this! I had thought you opposed to this barbaric treatment of marriage, of—”
“I have discovered myself quite pleased—Lady Cameron,” he said very softly. Chills swept along her spine. There was something about his speech … the soft, low, deeply modulated tone and cadence of it reminded her of the other. She was suddenly desperate for him to leave. She would have said anything just to be free of his presence then.
Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] Page 20
