“Aye, Captain,” he answered icily before trudging away.
Some of her bravery left with Joe, and she lowered her head in shame. She’d known Joe since she was a little girl in the nursery. How could they treat each other this way? With tears burning her eyes, she watched Joe sink into a rowboat. With clean strokes, he cut across the calm bay toward the Revenge.
She’d given up so much in order to achieve retribution for her family. Joe was part of that family, and it killed her to watch him climb aboard her ship, hurting as much as she was. All because of Dervish. When it was over, if she survived, she promised herself she and Joe would be friends again. There wouldn’t be a chain of command between them, keeping them at odds.
And Luke? She shrugged her shoulders, trying to ease that burden into place. There was only enough strength in her to manage one problem at a time. Luke, and her love for him, would have to wait until Dervish was dead. In the meantime, she had to remain strong for the task at hand.
With renewed determination, Sam strode back toward Jacqueline’s. Tomorrow, if life had any justice at all, she’d find Dervish. The sooner he was dead, the sooner she’d be free.
And there wouldn’t be a merchant sailor or officer in the navy who would be happier than she to see the end of Sam Steele.
Jacqueline’s toes pinched in her shoes, which, though fashionable, hurt like the dickens. It didn’t stop her from pacing, though. By the time Samantha’s steps crunched on the lane, she’d chewed two of her fingernails down to a stub.
She raced to the edge of the garden, hobbling a little from the blister that burned on the smallest toe of her left foot.
“Samantha!” she called, and threw open the gate.
Samantha leaped back, eyes wide. Birds scrambled from their roosts, wings fluttering in their haste.
“Oh, forgive me. I’m so sorry. My intention wasn’t to scare you to death,” Jacqueline said.
“It’s fine, really,” Samantha answered, though her hand trembled against her throat.
“No, it’s not. That was very rude on my part. Come,” she said, dragging a stunned Samantha through the gate, which, painted green, blended perfectly with the shrubbery. “I’ll have Pritchard prepare us some refreshments while you catch your breath.”
She didn’t allow her guest an opportunity to escape. Not when it had taken her all morning and cost her two fingernails to have an intimate conversation with her. Now that she had her in the privacy of her garden, had browbeaten Luke into writing their mother a letter to keep him from being underfoot, she did not intend to waste a single moment. Using the polished silver bell Luke had given her for her twenty-first birthday, she rang for Pritchard. Deliberately, she set the bell down with the engraving of the Jolly Roger facing Samantha.
The sun glinted off the image, and Samantha leaned forward, brow furrowed as she studied it. Pritchard arrived and Jacqueline dismissed him quickly, with a request for two glasses of cold tea and a platter of fruit.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it? It was a gift from Luke.”
At his name, Samantha’s gaze darted to the trees.
“The guards can only see us. They are too far away to hear.” When Samantha didn’t seem convinced, Jacqueline tried harder. After all, her idea to corner the woman she hoped would bring Luke out of piracy wouldn’t work if said woman was afraid to talk about him. She placed a hand over Samantha’s.
“Truly, they can’t hear us. I would hardly risk my brother’s life, would I?”
Samantha smiled. “No, I don’t believe you would.” She leaned back in her chair, arranging the folds of her skirt.
Jacqueline took the bell, turning it in her hands. “Ever since Luke turned to piracy, I’ve pleaded with him to stop. He gave this to me for my birthday—a reminder, he said, of what he was.”
Oh, how it had hurt to see such a pretty bell tarnished with a pirate’s emblem. To know her brother thought so little of himself, thought he could do no better. Now, as she set it down on the round tabletop, the anger was gone. Sadness, though, remained. There was so much goodness in him, if only he chose to see it.
“It’s all he wants to be,” Samantha said.
The hurt that choked her words spurred Jacqueline on. She hid her smile at Pritchard’s appearance and waited until he’d poured two glasses of tea and left.
“No, Samantha. It’s all he thinks he can be.”
“I don’t understand. He never mentions wanting anything else.”
“Nothing?” Jacqueline teased. She was rewarded by Samantha’s fierce blush. “I’m sorry. That was sinful of me.” She pushed aside her glass, leaning across the small table to face the woman she believed had the power to change Luke.
“I love Luke. He’s a good man and a wonderful brother. The problem is, my father, his stepfather, told him he was nothing but a bastard. He hammered that idea into his head until Luke believed it.”
“Was he?”
Jacqueline sighed. “In the literal sense only. Our mother was raped when she was little more than a girl, and Luke was born of that night.”
Samantha went pale as cream. Jacqueline suddenly feared that she’d misunderstood Samantha. Would the woman really hold his past, a past he had no control over, against him?
“How terrible for your mother.”
“Luke wasn’t terrible,” she said immediately, coming to her brother’s defense.
Samantha hastened to correct herself, renewing Jacqueline’s hope.
“I meant being raped. I’m sure she loves Luke very much.”
“Yes, she does. How he was conceived never mattered to her. She had a son and loved him unquestioningly.”
“But your father didn’t love him?”
Jacqueline sighed, the familiar bitterness rising in her throat. “I don’t know why he couldn’t. Luke never disrespected him. If anything, he tried harder around him. He did all his chores, helped mother with me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing was enough.”
“What did Luke do?”
“He worked from dawn to dusk helping me and mother, even doing extra chores to help bring in more money. Mother was so proud. But when father found out, he sputtered like a boiling kettle. He was embarrassed, you see. By Luke going out and earning money, it made it appear that my father couldn’t provide for his family.”
Samantha chewed absently on a piece of pineapple. “And then what happened?”
“He told Luke he was a disgrace, that no bloody bastard was going to make him look like a fool.”
“But that’s horrible,” Samantha gasped. “He was just a boy.”
“I know,” Jacqueline acknowledged, the words of that dreadful day clear as glass in her mind. “Mother cried; I cried. Luke stood proud, said he was only trying to do what was right.” She wiped a tear that crept down her cheek. “My father told him that it was too late. He was born a bastard and nothing could ever make that right.”
“But your mother?” Samantha gasped. “How could she stand by and let him abuse Luke so?” The horror of it shone in her eyes.
“She admonished my father, but it was too late. The words were spoken. Luke silently left the room. They never spoke again.”
She drank her tea, watching Samantha’s reaction. The past wasn’t pretty, but if the anger and hurt that had Samantha’s fingers drumming the table were any indication, it was necessary to be told. She had to know all there was to know about Luke, and Jacqueline knew her brother well enough to be sure he’d never tell her on his own.
“Mother tried to love him enough for two parents, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a father.”
“How old was Luke at the time?”
“Twelve.”
Samantha sniffed and turned her head, though not before Jacqueline saw her wipe the corner of her eye with her thumb.
“Luke was strong, Samantha. And he knew right from wrong. Despite knowing I was loved more than he was, he never treated me with anything but adoration.”
“It wasn’t
your fault,” Samantha said, facing her again.
Tears stung Jacqueline’s eyes. Oh, Luke, she thought, you must marry this one.
“My head knew it. It took my heart years to catch up.”
“And Luke?”
“For him the damage was done. By the time he was fifteen, he knew that as long as he remained in London, he’d be nothing but the bastard stepson of Percy Young. He took a position as an indentured servant to buy passage to Port Royal. When his duty was fulfilled, he jumped ship, as it were. Though he loved the sea, he hated being on a merchant ship, hated the formality. He saw the life of a pirate as having the best of both worlds.”
“How did you come to be here, then?” Samantha asked.
A warm breeze touched Jacqueline’s face as equally warm memories filled her mind. “I was young, hardly more than sixteen years old, when I met Daniel. My father worked for him, you see, and because my father felt it would move him up in the company faster, he invited the Kliphorns to dinner.
“My mother fussed with the house, and by the time dinner was ready, my hands ached from polishing the furniture and scrubbing the floors. But the house gleamed from floor to ceiling. When the bell rang at precisely eight o’clock, I was prepared to spend an uneventful and frightfully boring meal playing the quiet, respectful daughter.”
Caught up in the story, Samantha pushed aside her forgotten tea and braced her arms on the table.
“Then Daniel walked in, nearly a head taller than his father, and my mind went absolutely blank. My body, however, sizzled. He was beautiful, perfectly beautiful.” Jacqueline leaned over conspiratorially. “Luke does that for you, doesn’t he?”
Samantha blushed intensely. Jacqueline laughed.
“I was shocked at first. I’d been attracted to some men before, curious about others, but never with the intensity I felt for Daniel. He did more for me in one look than the others could accomplish with their flowers, romantic dinners, and fancy gifts combined.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Wonderful? It scared the stuffing out of me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and my reaction was only half of it. During dinner his father informed us that his youngest son would soon be moving to Barbados to follow in his big brother’s footsteps. I had only five days to convince him to take me with him. Luckily, I can be very persuasive.”
“Five days? You left everything behind for a man you’d known only a handful of days?” Samantha asked, frowning.
“Yes.”
It must seem odd to her, Jacqueline knew, as it did to most women she’d told, and yet she’d never regretted her decision.
“How could you have been so certain after such a short time? What if it hadn’t been a wise choice? It would have taken you weeks to get back home.”
Jacqueline slid her half-empty glass aside and took Samantha’s hands.
“The only certainty I knew, Samantha, was that I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life without Daniel in it. It may have been a short time, but I knew, somehow, deep in my heart that there would never be another man for me. Did I know for certain we’d be happy, that we’d remain as blissfully in love seven years later as we were when we left England? No, I didn’t. And it hasn’t all been easy. I miss my family, though it helps having Luke around, even if I don’t see him nearly as much as I’d like.”
“Yet you left so easily.”
At this Jacqueline laughed loudly, remembering the painful good-bye she’d had with her parents.
“Not so easily. There were arguments, tears. My heart was torn in two and my mother, especially, didn’t want me to go so far away.”
“I’d give anything to have a family, and you walked away from yours.”
“I don’t pretend to know your story, Samantha, but I can see how you have trouble understanding. Eventually, though, there comes a day when a woman steps from her parents’ sides to join her husband.”
“I know.”
“And really, all I did was extend my family. Daniel is a part of it now, a part of me. As our children will be.”
Going on nothing more than instinct, Jacqueline squeezed Samantha’s trembling hands.
“You can have it all, Samantha. Luke, children, family.”
Bees flitted from flower to flower while Samantha digested what she’d been told. Jacqueline knew she’d been right in telling her. Luke might not see it that way, but in her heart she knew it was right. Her brother had so much to offer, and that he’d brought Samantha to her home and that he looked upon her with tender feelings were enough to make her hopeful.
This woman with tears in her sad eyes was the answer to her prayers. Jacqueline was convinced that if Luke found a reason, one more powerful than anything he’d found thus far, he’d gladly walk away from piracy.
And what, she thought happily as Samantha’s gaze rose to Luke’s window, could be more powerful than love?
Luke felt like a bloody fool.
“I look ridiculous,” he grumbled into the full-length mirror that graced a corner of his sister’s room.
“You look handsome,” Jacqueline corrected. She ran her hands over the shoulders of his silk shirt. “You could stand to do up a few buttons, however.”
Luke grinned. “And cover something so fine? I think not.”
She rolled her eyes. He laughed, then drew her into an embrace. Lord, she was wonderful. It was a puzzle to him that something as good as she came from such an insufferable man.
“Thank you, darling, for everything.”
Jacqueline leaned back in his arms and all but glowed. “It was my pleasure. I never dreamed I’d ever have occasion to plan such a dinner for you in my home.” She sighed, her hands clasped over her breast. “She’ll love it.”
Luke stepped away, taking a last look in the mirror. The buff-colored shirt matched the trousers he’d borrowed from his brother-in-law. The knee-high boots were polished to a glossy black. Because it all felt so foreign to him, he’d kept the shirt gaping open, a reminder to Samantha and himself of who he really was.
“She bloody well better, or I’ll cast her overboard first chance tomorrow.”
“You will not, and you know it.” She fussed with his shirt some more. “Because you, my dear brother, are falling in love.”
The words had the effect of a rug being pulled from underneath him. He caught the chest of drawers just in time to prevent a fall. “I bloody am not!” he shouted.
His sister laughed—hell, she didn’t even try to hide it.
“Yes, you are. You’re courting her, Luke. You’ve planned this dinner, you’ve cleaned up.”
“Just because there’s no baths on board a ship doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being clean now and again.”
“Is that why you shaved twice and spent nearly an hour primping in front of my mirror?”
Luke spun around. “I do not primp.”
“Fine, you don’t primp,” she agreed, her tongue tucked into her cheek.
Taking his hand, she led him out of her bedroom. “Then, since you don’t primp, you’re ready to face the lady. I imagine she’ll be in the dining room, as I’ve told Pritchard to ensure she doesn’t enter the parlor.”
“He won’t say anything?”
“That you’re here? No. He figured it out last night, and I’m sure he won’t tell a soul. Still, you know how he feels about you, so better not provoke him.”
In the hall, with some unfamiliar demons twitching in his stomach, he kissed his sister lightly on the cheek.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go, before you lose your nerve.”
Luke scowled. “You’re not so old that I can’t throw you over my knee.”
“You’ve never raised a hand to me, brother, and you won’t now.” She lifted herself onto her toes and returned his kiss. “Enjoy your evening.”
She closed the door in his face before he could detain her any longer. Bloody hell, what was the matter with him? It was just dinn
er. There was absolutely no reason for him to be nervous. With that thought running through his mind, he wiped his damp hands down his thighs and strode downstairs.
Pritchard, his face looking especially sour, opened the doors as Luke escorted Samantha inside.
“Oh, my,” Samantha gasped.
At her side, Luke smiled to himself. He’d been planning the intimate dinner all afternoon, to undo some of the pain he’d caused Samantha with his words earlier. With Jacqueline’s help, Pritchard had agreed to set up a table and serve the evening meal in the privacy of the parlor. The curtains were drawn. Candles glowed on the mantel and a candelabra flickered on the sideboard. In the middle of the elegant table a fat cream candle was encircled by freshly cut orchids.
As this was to be their last dinner together before setting sail tomorrow, he’d decided to make it one Samantha wouldn’t soon forget. And one, he thought as he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to her chair, that would weigh in his favor when she discovered he’d lied about Dervish.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
He unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. Her eyes sparkled from the candles and her skin reminded him of a lush peach. He drew his gaze to her lips and had to swallow a curse. Lust heated his blood. They’d made love all night, and damned if his body wasn’t ready to do it all over. Never one to resist temptation, Luke knelt at her side, cupped her face, and brushed his lips over hers.
She sighed into his mouth, one of her hands curving around the back of his neck, holding him in place while her clever mouth tormented him. The instant her lips parted, he flicked his tongue over hers, drawing her deeper into his kiss. When blood began to pound in his loins, he pulled back, kissing her lightly one last time.
Her eyes, large and almond-shaped, were full of desire. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips and watched him take the chair opposite hers.
“Well,” he said, pouring them each a glass of wine, “I fear anything else will come up lacking after that.”
What a Pirate Desires Page 16
