My Fair Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  She was right, she realized; he intended to provide her comfort. He wanted to distract her from her melancholy thoughts of loss and grief, just as she had yearned to do for him upon learning of his hidden war wounds.

  A sigh that mingled sorrow and need escaped Kate as she sank deeper.

  Deverill shed his own clothes quickly and joined her. Guiding her to one side of the pool, he positioned her back against the sloping wall. She could feel his gaze like a tangible caress drifting over her as he scooped up water and let it run over her naked shoulders. His hands moved in a light murmur over her skin…yet offering more solace than arousal.

  The moon, casting slivers of light through the tree limbs overhead, sculpted his features in shadows, but his gaze held the same disarming gentleness as his hands; that dark, intense, beautiful gaze that had haunted so many of her dreams. She felt as though she were falling into his eyes.

  Then he took her in his arms and bent his head. His lips moved over hers, his kiss slow and soft and designed to burrow into her heart, she feared.

  After a time his embrace grew more intimate. He began stroking between her thighs, and in only a short while, he glided into her.

  The passion Kate felt rising from deep inside her had less to do with physical sensation than the emotions pulling at her heart. She was suddenly seized with longing. She was frantic to be with Deverill, to ease the fiery ache in her chest and limbs. She kissed him back with an edge of desperation, and he responded in kind, increasing his rhythm, taking her with hard, possessive thrusts, his lovemaking the primal expression of life to chase away the darkness of death.

  When it was over, he gathered her close again. Kate buried her face in his chest, the water swirling around them in heated currents.

  The ripples faded eventually, the pool growing still once more. Yet inside, Kate felt her heart swelling with frightening tenderness. She kept her eyes closed, trying to quell the longing still clamoring inside her, but it was no use.

  She loved Deverill. There was no other explanation.

  She’d mistakenly thought she could manage him. That she could keep her heart safe. She should have known better.

  I love him.

  Strangely, the realization was not in the least shocking, although she acknowledged an element of surprise. Since her girlhood, she had imagined ideal love, had fantasized about how it would feel. In truth, however, real love was vastly superior to her romantic ideal, and far more painful.

  Painful because it wasn’t reciprocated. At least not yet.

  So what should I do now?

  Most immediately, what point was there in confessing her love? She couldn’t force Deverill to develop deeper feelings for her. They had to grow naturally, without coercion. Indeed, divulging her love might actually do more to drive him away.

  Therefore, she had to pretend that nothing had changed.

  “Thank you,” she murmured against his sleek wet skin.

  “For what?”

  “For all you have done for me and my late family. Now you and I can return to England and resume our normal lives.”

  He drew back, giving her a quizzical look. “Normal?”

  Looking up, Kate manufactured a smile. “You can have what you have wanted all along—an uncomplicated marriage of convenience, without my silly notions of love and romance plaguing you.”

  Deverill’s frown was immediate, and he searched her face for a long moment.

  When he remained silent, she explained further. “You can find a bride who will better fit your requirements. You won’t be compelled to deal with my unreasonable demands, or suffer my hounding you to share your feelings. When we arrive home,” she added for good measure, “we can announce that we don’t suit after all. We don’t love each other, so there is no reason to continue our betrothal.”

  He started to reply, then apparently thought better of it. “Perhaps that is the best course.”

  It astonished Kate, how much his simple agreement hurt.

  His willingness—even eagerness—to end their betrothal was an admission itself. Deverill didn’t love her—and probably never would.

  With effort, she forced another amiable smile. “We should return to the cottage and begin packing, don’t you think?”

  Not giving him time to reply, she pulled out of his arms and struck out for the pool steps, doing her level best to hide the hurt that was lashing at her inside.

  —

  Brandon woke early the next morning with Kate still sleeping beside him. The unease he felt was not full-blown panic, but he’d sensed her distance for the remainder of the evening.

  Kate was pulling away, and he needed to decide how best to deal with her withdrawal.

  For that reason alone, he was glad to be leaving France. In England he would have allies. He could solicit Lady Isabella’s help, for one thing. Kate loved and revered her aunt, who was something of a matchmaker herself.

  He could also enlist Kate’s brother, Ash, and even her cousin Skye, Lady Hawkhurst. With her family aligned with him, he would wage a full-fledged campaign to win her hand in marriage. And no matter the obstacles, Brandon vowed, he was not giving up.

  That pledge was prime in his mind when he gently roused Kate awake, and later as they breakfasted, and still later as they walked the short distance to Louvel’s mansion.

  Upon admission, they found the pirate and his mistress finishing their breakfast. Louvel seemed satisfied with the final payment for the excavation, but frowned when Kate asked to speak to Gabrielle alone.

  His suspicious gaze followed the two women from the dining room and lingered on the doorway they had passed through. Hearing their lowered voices out in the corridor, Brandon could infer the scene taking place: Kate offering her unexpected financial gift, and the Frenchwoman responding with shock and delight.

  As if wondering at the cause, Louvel rose from the table and strode to the door. Brandon followed in time to see Gabrielle flushed and beaming.

  “What is the matter?” Louvel demanded of her in French.

  She turned excitedly, waving the bank draft for three hundred guineas, which Brandon knew had been converted to francs. “You will not credit Mademoiselle Wilde’s generosity! She has given me a fortune.”

  Snatching the draft from her, Louvel first examined the amount, then narrowed his eyes on Kate. “I will excuse your mistake, mademoiselle, but any recompense belongs to me.”

  Brandon saw Kate stiffen, but she kept her tone amiable when she replied. “There is no mistake, monsieur. I wish to thank Gabrielle for her kindness in allowing us to stay in her friend’s cottage all this time. She is due remuneration for our room and board at the very least.”

  “I will keep it all the same.”

  Gabrielle spoke up then. “Jean, you have no right to claim—” She gasped when he suddenly grasped her elbow, whether in surprise or pain wasn’t clear.

  “You are not to question me, do you comprehend?” he declared. “I expect you to obey me.”

  Immediately Kate stepped forward in protest. “I’ll thank you to unhand her, monsieur.”

  He turned back to her, his jaw hardening. “You will keep your opinions to yourself if you are wise.”

  “Then I am not wise,” Kate retorted in a tightly controlled voice. “Abusing a lady like this is hardly the behavior of a gentleman.”

  “Fortunately I make no claim to being a gentleman.” Even though he released Gabrielle, who rubbed her arm, his smile was almost a sneer. “I will brook no interference from you, Mademoiselle Wilde.”

  With a cold smile of her own, Kate stepped even closer, obviously willing to challenge him.

  A bystander thus far, Brandon felt tension knot his muscles. The situation was fast spiraling out of control, with Louvel’s temper on a short leash and Kate’s eyes flashing.

  “It does you no credit to rely on brute force to gain your way,” she added in a caustic tone.

  Brandon shifted his stance, preparing to intervene, as Kate spoke
again. “That draft belongs to Gabrielle. You will return it at once.”

  “Or what?” Louvel’s smile turned dangerous.

  Kate visibly suppressed a shiver as the pirate towered over her, but she did not back down. “Or I will make you.”

  Brandon understood her motivation: She deplored injustice and refused to impotently stand by while Louvel committed violence against the weaker sex, particularly a woman who was her friend. But while the threat brought out her natural passionate nature, her intervention was foolhardy, given Louvel’s savage nature…as was her boldness in seizing the bank draft from the pirate.

  As fast as a snake striking, he grabbed her wrist with one hand and reached for her throat with the other, as if intent on strangling her.

  Brandon lunged foward, but Kate acted first by twisting away, then yanking her arm from Louvel’s grasp, and in one smooth motion, raising her knee to his groin in a punishing blow.

  The pirate doubled over in pain, groaning. With clenched fingers, Kate stood over him, braced for retaliation. But Louvel sank to his knees, struggling to breathe, no longer an immediate threat.

  Her male relatives had taught her how to defend herself even against a lout of superior strength, Brandon remembered.

  By then, however, several servants had heard the commotion and come running. Now they were gathered at one end of the corridor, gawking in shock at the spectacle of their master being publicly humbled.

  In another moment Louvel recovered enough to lift his head, giving a view of his enraged features. He was livid—a woman contesting him in his own home, making him lose face.

  Stepping in then, Gabrielle quietly dismissed the servants, who wisely scurried away.

  Fire still flashed in Kate’s eyes, but evidently realizing she had gone too far in confronting Louvel, she inhaled a breath and made an effort to soften her approach. “If you must know, monsieur, I had your own welfare in mind as well as Gabrielle’s. I wished to provide her with a dowry. It is customary for a bride to bring a financial stake to a marriage.”

  His furious gaze narrowed on her, although he still panted for breath. “What the devil…are you talking…about?”

  “Gabrielle wishes to marry you.”

  “Marry?” He turned his head to stare at the Frenchwoman.

  “Yes, marry,” Kate insisted. “She happens to love you. I am almost certain you hold her in affection. If not, that is your choice. But you have no right to mistreat her.”

  Louvel continued to eye Gabrielle while he fought to recover his voice. “Is this true?” he finally asked.

  The beauty ducked her head rather shyly. “I confess it is so.”

  “Why did you…say nothing before?”

  “Because I feared how you would respond.”

  Kate waited another moment to let Louvel absorb this new intelligence, then said more kindly, “Allow me to point out that with these funds, she will have a choice whether or not to remain with you. If you are wise, you will propose to her without delay. Although why she would have you as her husband after this is beyond my understanding.”

  Louvel shot Kate a deadly glare, which again set Brandon on edge, ready to leap to her defense. He disliked how she was provoking the pirate; she well knew that Louvel was a dangerous man to have as an enemy. Once he made sure Kate was safe, he was going to give her a good tongue-lashing.

  At the moment, however, Louvel seemed more fixated on his mistress. “Forgive me, chérie. I acted out of anger.”

  Gabrielle returned a soft smile. When she helped him to his feet, Kate spoke yet again.

  “Well then, we will take our leave and allow you to sort out your feelings for each other. Thank you again, Gabrielle, for all you have done to make our stay as pleasant as possible. And to you, Monsieur Louvel, for allowing me to properly lay my family to rest.” She hesitated, then added, “I will deliver this draft to the bank in Royan where it will be waiting for you when you choose to claim it.”

  The pirate gave Kate another dark glance, but his attention was chiefly for Gabrielle. Judging by his intent gaze, perhaps he was considering a marriage proposal after all.

  When Kate joined him, Brandon ushered her down the corridor to the front entrance. For the first time in several minutes, the protective fear that had gripped him eased and his rapid pulse began to slow. But his own ire increased in direct proportion to their distance from Louvel.

  Brandon felt his jaw lock with the effort of holding back the chiding he wanted to give her. However, he forced himself to wait until they were out of earshot, when they were descending the front steps of the house.

  “That was foolish in the extreme, defeating Louvel in front of witnesses,” he said through ground teeth.

  Hearing his tone, Kate glanced up at him in surprise. “Why are you angry with me? You would have acted similarly, had I not stepped in first to protect Gabrielle.”

  “My anger is because you made yourself a target for Louvel’s vengeance. He will view it as the ultimate humiliation, being vanquished by a woman.”

  “What can he do to me?” Kate asked dismissively. “We will be gone shortly and will never have to deal with him again.”

  Brandon bit back a sharp reply. Having witnessed some of the pirate’s previous altercations in America—which had ended in assault, and worse, death—he knew the lengths Louvel might go to now. For that reason among others, he was eager to leave St. Georges as soon as they loaded their valises into their rented carriage.

  He escorted Kate to the cottage and left her there to collect their belongings, then made his way to the nearby livery and ordered his team hitched. While he waited in the stable yard, Brandon recalled her naïve question, What can he do to me?

  His unease increased as memories of Louvel’s gravest offenses came flooding back, and he couldn’t suppress the dark images flashing through his mind. A scoundrel unconstrained by civilized boundaries, Louvel could easily act out of revenge, doing Kate physical harm, up to and including killing her.

  The possibility made his gut clench. Perhaps he’d been unwise to leave her alone in the cottage after all. He should have brought her with him to the livery.

  Unable to shake his ominous thoughts, Brandon had decided to return to the cottage when he heard footsteps behind him. Turning at the sound, he went very still.

  Barely ten feet away stood two of Louvel’s underlings, with four more at their backs, all of them armed with pistols or knives or cudgels.

  He recognized three of the brutes by name: Ancel, Raoul, and Gaston. The ringleader, Ancel, waved his pistol while speaking in French.

  “You are to come with us, monsieur. Louvel wishes a word with you at once.”

  Assessing his odds took Brandon only a heartbeat. Fighting his way out of this situation would not be easy—one against six hulking corsairs brandishing weapons at close range. A quick glance at the rear of the stable yard told him that the head ostler and livery hands had all slipped away, no doubt unwilling to cross a man as powerful as Louvel.

  Brandon voiced a silent oath. He should have been on his guard, especially after the emasculation Louvel had recently suffered. But self-recriminations were useless at this point.

  Just then Louvel himself rode into the yard and drew to a halt, followed by a lumbering wooden wagon pulled by a pair of sturdy horses.

  “What is this?” Brandon asked the pirate. “Retribution?”

  Smiling, Louvel rubbed the scar on his cheek. “Mais oui. I have a long memory. You never paid for the humiliation you dealt me years ago. Did you think I would permit you to leave here with impunity?”

  “I suppose I should be honored. You sent an entire army of your cohorts to apprehend me.”

  A gloating grin spread across the pirate’s swarthy features. “I could not risk your overpowering them.”

  “I suspect the reason is more because you are too spineless to fight me man to man.”

  Louvel’s grin disappeared. “Why should I risk myself when there are more
certain methods to ensure your demise?”

  Brandon ignored the sudden tightness in his chest. “You mean to shoot me, then?”

  “I have in mind something more original.”

  “Do tell,” Brandon drawled, knowing that provoking Louvel to boast was the swiftest way to discover his plan.

  “I have merely to leave you to drown. There is an underground cell in the caves where our contraband is stored that will flood at high tide.” Louvel glanced around the yard. “Where is Mademoiselle Wilde? I expected to find her with you.”

  The constriction around Brandon’s chest drew tighter, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “If you dare lay a hand on her…”

  “What will you do?” Louvel’s expression turned to a sneer. “You cannot escape with your life.”

  Once again Brandon contemplated taking on the entire band of pirates. He could possibly commandeer a pistol and shoot Louvel before being overwhelmed. But if he fought and failed, Kate would be alone, undefended, at Louvel’s mercy. No, his only leverage was to bluff.

  “Would you care to test me?” When the pirate hesitated, he added a warning. “Clearly you suffer from an unnatural belief in your own immortality. Even should you eliminate me, Miss Wilde has powerful friends who will hunt you down like a rabid dog.”

  Louvel continued to pause, although judging from his scornful expression, the threat was ineffective, Brandon realized.

  Perhaps there was a better alternative: Keeping Louvel occupied so Kate would have time to escape. With luck, she could even ride to Royan to fetch help from Halsey and his crew. Yesterday he’d instructed the captain to bring reinforcements if he and Kate hadn’t returned to Royan by noon today. But by then his fate might be sealed.

  He decided it wise to change tack.

  “Shall we negotiate, Louvel? I will offer no resistance on one condition.”

  “What condition is that?”

  “Give me your word you will leave her unharmed.”

  “You would trust my word?”

  “No, but I know your chère femme will not be happy if you harm mine.”