A Pirate's Command

by Meg Hennessy

  He was incredibly handsome with olive-tinted skin, smooth and swarthy, that covered his square face and highlighted the deep lines that had formed around his eyes and mouth that spoke of hard living. He was rugged, rough, weathered like the ships he sailed, and she loved every bit of him. Her gaze roved freely as she remained distant from the conversations.

  He picked up his glass of wine and drank from it. His fingers wrapped around the silver stem as he lifted it to his mouth. She watched, knowing the feel of those fingers on her body, the massages, the loving gentle touch, all from those fingers wrapped around that glass.

  When she glanced back to his face, she found he was watching her. Perhaps it was the long separation after having made love, but her thoughts were no further than the bedchamber upstairs.

  He smiled at her as he forked another piece of dinner.

  He knew what she was thinking, every single thought.

  She wanted to simply luxuriate in his looks and the good food, but the conversation turned to her. His father asked her several questions about their son, which she answered to the best of her ability, oftentimes bringing laughter and smiles to the others at the table, except Rayna. But speaking of Enio made it easy to entertain, for the little boy was the absolute light of her life. She noticed the approving glances from his father, who expressed a loving interest in her stories and those of his grandson.

  When the meal ended and they all retired to the hall, Enio was introduced. Colette had reservations, considering she was French and therefore so was Donato’s son, but his father reacted far differently than she anticipated. His eyes grew misty as he took Enio into his arms. He held him for the remainder of the evening. Up and down from his arms, Enio would come and go.

  Colette couldn’t help but like Donato’s father. He reminded her of her own father and what he had missed, never knowing his grandson, and the place a grandfather plays in a young boy’s life.

  Others in the house had come to the vestibule to see the little boy, marvel over him, and asked for one story after another of his little life. Colette ignited a howl of laughter by comparing the little boy to Donato. Several times, she even caught Donato laughing freely, without restraint. The evening was filled with laughter and joy. She only prayed the feelings of good will would carry through Donato’s meeting with the king.

  Finally, Donato picked up his son and asked to be excused, for they were exhausted from the long journey. Before anyone could protest, she, Donato, and Enio were going up the stairs as a family. She could hardly wait to close the door behind them.

  …

  Donato waited, sitting on the outside balcony, taking in the sounds and sights of once again being home while Colette settled the baby for the night.

  As far as he could see in any direction belonged to his father, and so would it belong to Donato someday, if he so wanted. Rayna would not inherit much of it, for she was a woman and could not carry on the title.

  Donato’s childhood room was in the east wing of the manor. His father had traveled often, especially to Madrid, to see King Charles IV, forcing Donato to be the man of the manor. A heavy load for a boy of eight years, but that was the decision his father had made. Because of it, Donato had learned to be self-reliant and strong, and it was only through wearing such armor that he could protect himself from the constant dangers of his father’s world.

  Donato’s mother had been a weak woman, having surrendered control to her husband because she loved him. Donato had resented her weakness and her need to have his father love her. Marriage was never something he thought he would want, but Colette had inspired more in him than he ever thought possible. Love. So much so that when Colette had become with child, he eagerly married her, wanting nothing more than to love the mother of his child. Something his father had never done.

  “Enio is asleep.” Colette broke into Donato’s thoughts, leaning out the door before she returned to her bedroom.

  He returned a smile, pleased that they were together, as they had been on the island, when trouble had seemed an ocean away. Now he stood in the thick of things with no map to determine whether or not he’d make it through the treacherous royal maze.

  He glanced through the window. Colette started to undress. He felt his breath catch somewhere in his chest, knowing the curves and soft places beneath that gown. The oil lamp stood on the table to the other side of her, illuminating her movements like that of the spirited bird who had nearly flown off the horse with Donato.

  She was stunning. Her hair, freed from the peineta, dangled down her back and over her shoulders, shrouding her in a golden, glistening mantle. She had told him that she thought to be plain next to Rayna. He expected that of Colette, for she had no idea how beautiful she was, both inside and out. And tonight she had proved to be Rayna’s equal, if not superior in many ways. By the time the night had ended, the entire House of Roche staff had been eating out of her hands.

  Over her head, Colette pulled off the chemise and petticoat, leaving her in a thin shift. She hesitated a moment, glancing toward the balcony as if aware he was watching her. She pulled on a nightdress and adjusted her hair, tied off the waist of the gown, and came out onto the balcony.

  “It is chilly, non?” Colette sat down next to him. Without waiting for an answer, she placed a hand over his. “You are troubled.”

  He looked at her. “Si.”

  “Enio is asleep.” She said it so easily, as if their world revolved around their son and the only worry at the moment was whether or not he slept.

  He flashed her a quick smile, knowing her ruse. Admiring the woman of iron who sat with him, supporting him. “I know you have questions, Colette. Ask and I will try to explain. That is the least I can do, for you have earned it.”

  “I don’t know where to begin. My family was wealthy in France, but nothing like this. This is the life of a king, n’est-ce pas?”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Your family managed to bury a treasure with secret maps.”

  She laughed a little at his comment, and though she pretended it was nonsense, they both knew such a treasure existed.

  “All right.” She resettled herself on the settee. “Why did you leave here? It seems quite pretty. Your family seems nice, I think, though I still don’t know Rayna.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re being kind. Typical Colette.”

  “But your father seems nice.”

  “Nice,” he repeated, finding the word odd in reference to his father. Rayna was of no consequence and, in her defense, had suffered through much of what he had growing up, but nice?

  “I mean,” Colette continued, “what made that final decision, to leave forever?”

  Donato drew a deep breath, sensing a long conversation, something he never enjoyed.

  “My mother died. She meant much to me and Rayna. When she died, she told me to follow my heart. She knew I was not a man to follow in my father’s footsteps, and she knew what the war had done to me. She released me of responsibility here. I took the advantage, for I didn’t love my father. I hated him and blamed him for her death. I believe she died of a broken heart, for he was so busy being a man of power, he had become bitter and cold.”

  “Did your father know why you left?”

  “I think so. I don’t know if he understands completely how I felt after the war. I think he chose to tell himself that I had an adventurous soul and needed to spread my wings.”

  “How did her death affect Rayna?”

  “I don’t know about Rayna. She seemed to close up, if that makes sense. She and I were close before mother died, but not afterward. I think she felt deserted by me. Perhaps I did let her down.” He had not thought about how his leaving might have affected Rayna until now. He had left without consulting her or confiding in her. A mistake, in retrospect.

  “Are you the oldest?”

  He laughed. “I don’t think Rayna would appreciate you not being able to guess, but si, I am the oldest by five years. There were other children, but none
survived past infancy.”

  “But if not the adventure, what did you want?”

  “Freedom to be my own man. The days of kings and queens with absolute authority are over. My father has spent most of his life catering and kneeling to men who are no more qualified to run a country than he.”

  “How did you get involved in a revolution thousands of miles away?”

  “I live near Cuba. I know what goes on. Spain had adopted a constitution, perhaps not the best, but it was a start. King Ferdinand had promised to back it, but he did not. He believes he has absolute power over all lawmaking and men’s lives.”

  “And your father agrees?”

  “He’s an absolutist. I am not.”

  “Does he know this?”

  “Not entirely.”

  “Does Rayna?”

  “She does, but it is in her best interest to keep it quiet. She would gain nothing by exposing me and possibly lose the entire estate if I were—” He stopped himself short of saying executed. “Not here.”

  “Then what is your plan?”

  “Tomorrow I hope to play the part of a loyal subject and be honored to serve. If I were alone, it would be different, but I have no choice, I risk too much.”

  Colette slid forward and ran her hand down the side of his face. “You risk me and Enio and that is why you must humble yourself, bow to the wishes of this king.”

  “Si, but I do it with love, Colette. I cannot put my politics above my wife and child. My father did and it cost him dearly, for he hasn’t a shred of honesty left. I never will.”

  “How did they find you? Why didn’t they just request you to come back?”

  “They did. I ignored them, never thinking they, or Rayna, would go to such extremes.”

  “How did they know where you were?”

  “I bought the island from Cuba with the money I earned from my short-lived shipping line—that was mine until the French buzzards destroyed it. That purchase would not have happened had it not been for my rank as a noble and father’s power in the government.”

  “I see.” Colette looked down, taking in the information. “Donato, you never told me why you were in Port-au-Prince the night I was auctioned off.”

  “No, I did not.” He wanted to tell her everything, about her ship, and why he had taken it. But to tell her that when in a foreign country, in danger, with the only man she trusted, would be cruel, leaving her lost, alone, and frightened. He couldn’t answer all her questions, for he had to preserve her faith in him long enough for them to be on their way back home.

  Her green eyes, trimmed in long thick lashes, watched him. The corsage of her gown hugged her bosom and allowed a glimpse of the round full figure he so longed to caress, to lose himself within the warmth of her body and forget the problems that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

  “That is not of import, and I wish to stop with questions for the night.” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips partly open while thinking, tasting sweet and tender. “You know I watched you undress.”

  “I know.”

  “You undressed for me.”

  She nodded, her hair falling around her face. He smoothed the tresses back over her shoulder. “I remember so much about your body, the curves, the soft areas, the special touches, such passion in a beautiful woman.”

  “I remember,” she whispered, her head falling back, exposing her throat to him.

  He leaned down and kissed that small heart-throbbing area. “Si, like this.”

  “I remember.”

  He pushed off his chair, lifted her in his arms, and placed her back on her feet inside the privacy of her bedchamber. He untied the dressing gown and dropped it around her arms, holding her in place. He kissed her throat, sliding along the silky skin to the tiny pulsation in the hollow of her throat. The gown slipped from his fingers to pool around the floor at her feet.

  “And I remember the sweet taste of you,” he whispered before lowering himself to his knees.

  Underneath her shift, he parted her legs and ran his hands upward along her thighs until his fingers reached that sacred, coveted treasure at the juncture of her legs. He slipped his fingers inside her and stirred, enjoying how she moistened for him. He ran his tongue over her desire. She responded with a hitch of her hips. Straddling her legs around him, he lifted them to rest on his shoulders as he moved her to the bed.

  Her nails dug into the flesh of his back with each sweep of his tongue, the pain oddly comforting. He cupped her bottom and pulled her into him, settling inside her. She ran her hands through his hair, removing his crown and placing it atop her own head. He kissed her again, deep inside her, pulsating with a need to take her.

  Her fingers started to circle around and around on his shoulders, across the blades of his back until she gasped and arched for the sky. She held herself stiff for a moment before relaxing and exhaling as if satisfied.

  He smiled.

  She was.

  He raised up off the bed to undress as fast as he could. Having removed the velvet jacket before, she tore through the waistcoat and shirt. She fumbled, pulling his shirt off over his head.

  “It is you who undress for me now.”

  “For you, anything. If I must, I must.”

  She giggled as he lowered his weight over her and kissed her throat, running his hands up and over the bounty of beautiful breasts, round and full. He wanted to rip free the shift but knew she had only one with her. So he allowed her to unwrap herself, not enjoying the delay. He took his crown from her head and tossed it aside. It hit the marble floor with the loud crack of metal against stone.

  He raised up to take in the beauty beneath him.

  Her breasts rose with each breath and teased his chest, her nipples dark and ripe for kissing. Her slim waist and rounded hips blushed with color, and her beautiful slender arms wrapped around him in expectation, making him throb that much harder. “Are you ready for me, Colette?”

  She wove her fingers into his hair and wrapped her legs around his middle. “Always.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  He hadn’t slept all night, even after the hours of lovemaking that took them well past midnight. Though neither gave their fears voice, the idea of this perhaps being their last night together weighed heavily in the air. Colette had fallen asleep curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder. But a wink of rest, he did not get.

  His mind kept running over and over the challenges his audience with the king might hold. He dreaded the day but had no choice. He had been summoned, and he had to appear. He was a subject of Spain, a man of honor.

  Enio awoke in the wee morning hours, fussing slightly with a stuffy nose and what seemed like a bad dream. Donato pulled him into his arms and soothed his tears before the child could awaken Colette. Caring for his son was a moment of retreat, a moment of doing nothing but loving the boy. To feel his small body relax in Donato’s arms and trustingly fall back asleep brought Donato’s heart to his throat. He so loved his son and his son’s mother, a gift to his child that his father had never given him.

  He had instructed Ramón on what to do if the meeting with King Ferdinand did not go well, and Ramón had seen to the task of having the ship lying to and provisioned. His men had been positioned along the route, each a job to perform should the need arise. If an escape were necessary, it was risky but set. He could do no better than that.

  Donato washed and dressed before the sun rose. Colette was still asleep, as well as Enio. Donato kissed her lightly on her cheek and stole a little kiss off the boy’s head. He stared at his son for a moment, wanting to always remember his little face, little smile, and cute laughter, and the pudgy arms he had wrapped around his neck last night. For after today, he had no guarantee of ever seeing them again.

  He pushed through the door into the hall and took the winding stone stairway to the main floor, hoping to get a cup of tea before facing the king of Spain. To his surprise, his father sat waiting in the dining room, a cup of
tea in hand.

  “Your Most Excellency.” Donato entered the room.

  “I will go with you today.”

  “That is not necessary.”

  “It is important I be there to support you.”

  That made Donato most uncomfortable. As a member of the camarilla, did his father know something? After a quick cup of tea and a biscuit, Donato rose from his chair. “Then let us be on our way.”

  They traveled in four ornate barouches. In the first rode armed guards of la Roche; the second, Donato and his father; the third, Ramón and a private secretary of his father’s; and the fourth, more armed guards.

  Soon the carriages passed under the gatehouse into the inner ward of the castle, surrounded by a curtain wall on all sides. It was a small castle, used infrequently by the king but kept in readiness should he travel to Cádiz.

  They all disembarked, but only Ramón and his father’s secretary were allowed into the great hall. Guards had to wait outside. Donato and his father walked through the great hall and started down the long galley toward the lord’s hall when his father reached out and stopped Donato, motioning for the others to wait at a distance.

  “I am concerned,” his father whispered. “I must ask that you don’t be foolish.”

  The comment surprised Donato. “Foolish?”

  “I know who you are, Donato.” Not waiting for a response, he continued, “Sometimes as men of family, we must do things we don’t want to.”

  Donato felt his world cave in around him, but that should not have been a surprise. He and his father had always been in opposition. Fears realized, Donato struggled to keep his voice below a whisper. “Things we don’t want to, such as turn me over to the Crown? Is that what this is? Who financed the journey for Rayna? Are you being paid handsomely for my capture?”