My Fair Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  Their argument lasted for the remainder of the drive. Deverill was one of the few men whose force of will matched her own, but in this instance, she was adamant. And by the time they reached the inn, she had convinced him that she would go to St. Georges on her own if he refused to take her.

  As she descended from the carriage, Kate heard him muttering under his breath about stubborn females.

  While Deverill saw to horses and weapons for Halsey’s men, she went upstairs to repack her valise for an extended stay in St. Georges and to confer with her aunt and uncle.

  Perhaps because she refrained from mentioning the possible danger, they were not averse to the plan. Uncle Cornelius agreed to have her mother’s headstone delivered to the church while she was away.

  Just as surprisingly, Rachel made no objection to letting her niece accompany Deverill unchaperoned. She herself was still too ill to travel but hoped to recover enough by tomorrow to slowly stroll the sandy beaches, saying that the sun and warmth would do her good.

  Not for the first time did Kate suspect her aunt of exaggerating her condition so that the engaged couple could have more privacy. And Kate was certain of it when Rachel sent Cornelius away to see to the luggage and handed Kate a small silk bag. “This is from your aunt Isabella.”

  Puzzled, Kate opened the drawstring. Inside were several sponges with thin strings attached, and two small vials of liquid. “What is this?”

  “The means to avoid getting with child. You must soak a sponge in vinegar or brandy and place it deep within your woman’s passage.”

  Kate didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or not. Before she could reply, Rachel continued.

  “Isabella and I both wished to prevent you becoming enceinte in the event you and Lord Valmere became lovers. She felt certain it would be needed. I would say she was right. You are lovers, are you not?”

  Kate felt a blush heat her cheeks. “Is it so obvious?”

  “Only to me. I don’t believe Cornelius has an inkling.” She paused. “I do not mean to judge or criticize, Kate. I simply don’t want you to follow my path.” A look of sadness crossed Rachel’s face. “If I had known of this method, I could have been spared great heartache, having to abandon my daughter to my brute of a husband.”

  She shuddered, then steeled her spine as if drawing on some hidden strength. Visibly shaking off her bad memories, Rachel smiled kindly. “I know how difficult it is to resist a handsome man when your heart is wholly engaged. I was in love with Cornelius, just as you are with Valmere.”

  Kate gave a start. “I am not in love with Valmere,” she protested.

  “Well, if you are not, you soon could be, given a proper environment for fostering love. A sojourn alone with him could be just what you need. Isabella is of the same mind, but she wants you to be prepared.”

  Kate might have continued the discussion, but settled for a simple thank-you and returned to her room to fetch her pelisse and bonnet.

  As she waited for Deverill to return, she thought about her aunt’s sage advice and realized that she actually held a similar conviction. Bearing a child out of wedlock was out of the question. She would never force the label of bastard on a child. Which meant that becoming “enceinte” would take the choice of marrying Deverill out of her hands.

  You should have considered that before demanding that he make love to you last night, you ninny—Was it only last night?

  Her body answered for her. Her feminine places were still tender, her senses still overly reactive. Deverill’s mere look felt more intimate now, not to mention his touch. The lightest brush of his fingers on just her hand elicited an electric response in her body that was far outsized than was reasonable.

  But worse, her thoughts were filled with him. And her feelings—Well, her feelings were a chaotic muddle, ranging from tenderness to triumph, from despair to hope and back again.

  But the essential, irrefutable truth was, Kate realized, if she was not in love with Deverill yet, she easily could be. And a sojourn alone with him could push her completely over the edge. Now that they had made love, Deverill would undoubtedly return to his normal, irresistible methods of seduction, and she would have few defenses.

  But perhaps she should welcome his passion. Perhaps after all, physical intimacy could inspire emotional intimacy, which could lead to love.

  And if she wanted his love, she couldn’t worry so much about protecting her own heart. Instead, she had to focus on winning his.

  —

  Four brawny sailors, mounted and armed, accompanied them to St. Georges. Adhering to directions provided by the priest, they took the coastal road, which afforded occasional glimpses of the sea beyond thickets of pine and scrub bush.

  During the drive, Deverill told Kate his plan for when they reached the pirate’s headquarters. “When we encounter Louvel, let me do the talking. And I will address you as Miss Wilde rather than Lady Katharine. We’ll likely be bargaining with him, and revealing that you are a wealthy noblewoman would only give him leverage.”

  Kate nodded. “You would know best how to deal with him. It seems an improbable coincidence that you are acquainted with the very pirate I wish to hire.”

  “Not too improbable,” Deverill countered. “Most corsairs in this region are Basque, but there are also Frenchmen who were drawn to America’s war with Britain by the lure of riches. Privateers made a very good living harrying the British fleet. The most notable was Jean Laffite in the Louisiana territory.”

  “It is unfortunate that you are enemies with Louvel.”

  Deverill grimaced. “Highly unfortunate. But he has always been driven by greed. I expect he can set aside his wounded pride if the reward is large enough.”

  They then discussed what to offer Louvel for his services. Kate had brought ample funds with her, primarily in gold guineas, but had left it behind on the Galene since pirates might be inclined to take her money and provide nothing in return. Similarly, they had not written in advance, since knowledge of the shipwreck might inspire Louvel to conduct a search of his own before they could arrive to supervise the salvage.

  “Some of your aunt’s jewelry may be recoverable from the wreckage, is that correct?” Deverill asked.

  “Yes.” The villain who had blown up the Zephyr had absconded with most of the de Chagny treasure, but several of the priceless jewels were still missing and thought to be at the bottom of the estuary with the shipwreck. “Why?”

  “If you are amenable, any items of worth we find could be additional payment for Louvel’s efforts. The prospect of finding treasure will serve to motivate him further.”

  Kate frowned in contemplation. “It is probably too much to hope that I will ever see my father’s signet ring again.”

  “Probably,” Deverill agreed.

  Kate shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Locating the wreckage is all I truly care about. I will be satisfied if we can just find proof of the Zephyr’s identity.” Her voice lowered. “It seems a bit morbid to search for treasure among wreckage where so many people perished. Reportedly there were a dozen crew and passengers on board the Zephyr.”

  Deverill made a scoffing sound. “Trust me, Louvel and his cohorts won’t be put off by a ship’s violent end.”

  —

  The seaside village of St. Georges was pretty and prosperous-looking, no doubt because fishermen supplemented their meager incomes with piracy. When they reached a certain street, Deverill drew the carriage to a halt and pointed. “That must be Louvel’s residence.”

  In the distance, against a backdrop of blue sky and even bluer water, stood an elegant, storied mansion, built of beige stone with the ubiquitous red-tiled roof but obviously home to someone of stature and wealth.

  Deverill ordered their entourage to wait there, in view of the house. If he hadn’t emerged in half an hour, they were to ride up to the door in a show of strength. Then, urging his pair of horses forward, he continued down the street, turned onto a sweeping gravel drive, and halted near
the carriage house.

  As he helped Kate down, a warm salt breeze caressed her face but did little to quell the prickling of her nerves. Not knowing what to expect, she held her breath when Deverill rapped lightly on the door. A few moments later an elderly female servant admitted them and, without much curiosity, showed them into a perfectly genteel parlor that overlooked the sea.

  The splendid view from the tall French windows first caught Kate’s eye, but then her attention was quickly drawn to the couple sitting on a sofa, sipping wine.

  It was a surprisingly domestic scene for a pirate, Kate thought—one that could have taken place in any refined home in England. The woman was a blond beauty, stylishly dressed, perhaps a few years older than herself. The tall, muscular man wore more casual attire but was exceptionally handsome in a swarthy kind of way. The scar marking his left cheek stood out against his bronzed complexion and suggested his identity was none other than Jean Louvel.

  At the entrance of guests, Louvel glanced up politely but froze when he caught sight of Deverill. “Vous! Ce que le diable?”

  With a scowl darkening his face even further, Louvel suddenly leapt to his feet and bypassed the tea table in a single bound. Lunging across the parlor, he unsheathed a rapier from its scabbard, then spun and advanced toward them, holding the blade up menacingly.

  Kate’s heart stopped in her chest. Before she could even think what to do, Deverill caught her elbow and yanked her behind him, shielding her with his large body.

  Louvel halted before them, aiming the deadly point of the rapier at Deverill’s throat. Repeating his curse, the pirate growled, “Pourquoi êtes-vous ici, Anglais?” which Kate interpreted as “Why are you here, Englishman?”

  The two men were of a similar height and build, but Louvel clearly had the advantage with his weapon raised ominously, his fierce expression suggesting that he still bore a grudge after all these years.

  In response to the threatening act, however, Deverill calmly responded. “Clearly you want to run me through, but you should think twice. It would be a pity to ruin your elegant furniture and carpets with blood—either mine or yours.”

  Ignoring the pirate’s incredulous sputter, Deverill glanced across the parlor. The beauty had risen also, a worried look on her face, her concern evidently as great as Kate’s.

  “Pray, will you introduce us to your lady?” Deverill added.

  “Introduce you!” Louvel exclaimed in a heavy French accent.

  Tension was thick in the small parlor. Waiting anxiously for the pirate’s reply, Kate held her breath while digging her nails into her palms. Deverill had taken a big risk, leaving himself vulnerable like this. She questioned the wisdom of his nonchalance—although having grown up with two brothers and a male cousin, she understood that showing any weakness toward a man such as Louvel would only invite more belligerence and earn contempt rather than respect.

  Louvel stared back at Deverill and finally shook his head. “Incroyable.”

  “What is incredible?”

  “You, appearing at my doorstep unarmed.”

  “Why do you assume I am unarmed?” Casually opening his jacket, Deverill drew a pistol from his belt and made a show of examining the priming. He was issuing a challenge in return, quite obviously.

  Grinning unexpectedly then, Deverill brushed the rapier point aside with a forefinger and lightly cuffed Louvel on the shoulder while adopting a disarming tone. “I have missed you, you hotheaded hulk.”

  A disbelieving bark of laughter escaped Louvel. “Me, I cannot credit you. You were always too courageous for your own good.”

  “But I am not stupid. I once thought that of you, however. You acted the imbecile, accusing me of besmirching your honor and insisting that I fight you. I told you then, I had no interest in your lover. You didn’t believe me and nearly did me in.”

  “Hah! It was you who gave me this scar,” Louvel countered gruffly, rubbing his cheek.

  “I merely acted in self-defense.” Deverill looked pointedly at the rapier. “I did not come here to reenact our duel.”

  “Then for what reason did you come?”

  “To pay you a courtesy call. I have business in these parts, and by all reports, you control much of the enterprise hereabouts.”

  Louvel’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What business?”

  “I will gladly discuss it with you but not while we are engaged in a standoff. Shall we call it a draw?”

  “Oui.”

  Though still scowling, Louvel lowered his weapon and stepped back. The blond-haired woman gave a sigh of relief, as did Kate.

  “Permit me to make introductions,” Deverill said then. “This is Miss Katharine Wilde. I wish to locate a shipwreck on her behalf. Some fourteen years ago, her parents and uncle and aunt were on board a ship when it went down in this vicinity.”

  Louvel was studying Kate. “What, has she the tied tongue? Can she not speak for herself?”

  Kate, who was not tongue-tied in the least, answered for Deverill. “Indeed she can, Monsieur Louvel.” But she said it sweetly and offered a soft, submissive smile to take the sting out of her words, suspecting that Louvel would not be pleased to be contested by a mere woman. “Forgive me for nearly swooning. I am unaccustomed to being greeted in such a violent fashion or threatened with a wicked sword blade.”

  Catching the amused gleam in Deverill’s eye at the notion of her swooning, she went on quickly. “Mr. Deverill told me that you were a charming gentleman, monsieur, and that you two were once friends and compatriots. I very much hope that you are willing to let bygones be bygones, instead of remaining enemies.”

  “Even though he sought to kill me?” Louvel retorted, glaring anew.

  “Had he truly wanted to kill you, I imagine he would have succeeded,” Kate said with another winsome smile.

  Louvel stared at her, but after a moment, his glower eased a measure. “C’est vrai. Very true. He allowed me to vent my anger without carving out my liver. But did this dog also tell you that he gave me this scar?”

  “A scar that only makes you more intriguing to the ladies, no doubt.”

  His jaw remained stubbornly set, but his resistance was weakening, Kate could tell. In a further sign that she had managed to defuse his anger, Louvel shook his head as his lips twisted in a grudging grin. Fleetingly, he even eyed her with new respect before giving a low, rough laugh.

  She didn’t trust that oily laugh, or care for the way the pirate was ogling her, his dark eyes raking her contemplatively from head to toe.

  Neither did the blond lady, judging by her expression.

  She had made herself Louvel’s target, Kate realized. And although that was far better than having him attack Deverill in retaliation for an imagined offense that occurred many years ago, she didn’t want to make an adversary of the woman from the very start.

  Moving close to Deverill, Kate slipped her arm in his. “Darling,” she said lovingly, “we should petition Monsieur Louvel to assist us. I am certain he could be an immense help.”

  “Perhaps.” Deverill covered her hand possessively and addressed Louvel. “I want to hire a crew to search for the shipwreck, and you are the logical choice to lead the effort.”

  Louvel’s look turned calculating. “For what reason should I assist you?”

  “Because it is a highly lucrative proposition. Fifty guineas as surety, quadruple that amount if the wreck is located and salvaged in the next fortnight.”

  The pirate rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then nodded. “I am willing to consider your proposition. Will you join us for refreshments so we may review the details?”

  —

  The beauty, who was introduced as Mademoiselle Gabrielle Dupree, greeted them warily, then left to fetch more wine. Before getting down to bargaining, Louvel questioned what was known about the shipwreck.

  Deverill explained about the explosion and fire and how the Zephyr had turned toward shore near St. Georges before sinking. In turn, the pirate pointed out the
difficulty they would face in finding the site after so many years. Additionally, the depth of the water would greatly affect the chance of success, limiting the light by which to see and the air to breathe. And salvage would be impossible if the pressure was more than a man could withstand while diving.

  “Yet the wreckage could be in shallow enough water,” Deverill said. “The floor of the estuary here is said to be from three to six fathoms deep—feasible for experienced swimmers.”

  Since a fathom equaled six feet, Kate judged the maximum depth to be thirty-six feet, which Louvel conceded was achievable.

  “Furthermore,” Deverill continued, “Miss Wilde’s cousin has engineered a diving apparatus designed to extend breathing time. As for divers, my own shipmaster can supply two such seamen as well as nets and longline hooks to drag the seafloor. However, my schooner is too large to maneuver easily in these waters. So from you I would need several smaller sailboats and crews.”

  Just then Mademoiselle Dupree returned with a young male servant, who carried a tray laden with wine and two more glasses. She poured the wine while Louvel sought to increase the payment.

  “For the commission, I require four hundred guineas, half now.”

  Deverill countered, “I could agree to four hundred, but you’ll get a quarter now in gold. Another quarter if you locate the correct ship, and the final half upon salvage.”

  A sly glint flickered in Louvel’s eyes. “What is this? You believe that I would cheat you?”

  Deverill flashed a slow grin. “Any self-respecting brigand would attempt it.”

  “C’est vrai,” Louvel admitted.

  “But you heed your own code of honor, so I’ll wager I can trust you.”

  “That is also true.”

  When still Louvel hesitated, Kate chimed in. “There may have been other treasure on board the Zephyr—jewels belonging to my French kin. If so, you may claim it all. I only want a signet ring that belonged to my father, if it can even be found. For sentimental reasons, you understand, since it is not especially valuable.”

  The glint in the pirate’s eye deepened at the mention of treasure. “Very well, Anglais, I agree to your terms.”