by Lora Thomas
He watched as the turmoil crossed her face. He knew he should have controlled himself, but he couldn’t. There was something about this woman that made him want her all the time. He had vowed to himself to never let this happen again, but he couldn’t resist. It was as if his body craved her like his lungs craved air.
She had stood up to him defiantly, proudly, refusing to back down. No one had the nerve to stand up to him, but she dared to. She feared nothing and he found that arousing. Placing a gentle kiss on her lips he looked at her.
“I think I should get off you.”
She timidly nodded her head, not wanting to break the truce that just occurred. This passionate encounter had taken out her anger, and she did not have it in her to argue with him again. She watched as he stood and began pulling on his clothing. He was such a handsome man. He turned his back to her and pulled on his shirt. That’s when she noticed the lower portion of the large scar on his back and it hit her like lightning. She had seen him before! He had been at her home!
She stared in disbelief as the memories flooded her mind. It was many years ago. Surely she must be mistaken. She squinted her eyes in an attempt to view the wound better. Her eyes grew wide; she would recognize that mark anywhere. Her mouth dropped open as she remembered him. In the dim light of their quarters, she had noticed the scar, but not the mark. But here in the light it stood out, like a beacon. She had fantasies of meeting him again, of him sweeping her off her feet and whisking her away from her village to live happily ever after. She had outgrown that fantasy, knowing she would never see that man again. But now, here he stood in front of her, as her husband.
She pulled on her clothing and stood up. She would ask him about his injury, but not now. This was neither the time nor the place. Tonight, she thought to herself.
She mounted her horse and felt Max seat himself behind her. She leaned back against him, saying nothing, allowing the contentment of the moment to linger. Max turned the horse in the direction that the stallion had departed. She snuggled deeper into his embrace as they rode in search of his mount, her mind racing as the realization that the man of her dreams was now her husband.
Chapter Seventeen
The couple approached the huge two-story mansion about an hour later. In her desperation to escape Max, Kristina had ran her horse in the opposite direction as their destination. It took thirty minutes to find Max’s horse and then backtrack. As they rode through an arched gateway that was attached to a high stone fence, Kristina sucked in her breath at the sight of the captain’s home. Never in all her life had she seen such a magnificent residence! It was a huge whitewashed home with windows running floor-to-ceiling. There was a large wraparound veranda surrounding both floors. Massive marble Corinthian columns supported the verandas. The yard was neatly manicured with a multitude of colorful flowers surrounding the exterior of the home. Large oak trees were scattered about with Spanish moss that resembled lace hanging from the low branches.
“Did ya get lost?” Slim asked as he watched the couple approach.
Max shook his head. “Just a little distracted.”
“Um-hmm,” Slim replied, not believing Max’s answer, but knowing better than to question the real reason. “Da wagons are around back. James has already begun ta unload dem.”
Max nodded his head. “This way,” he instructed Kristina.
She followed him, marveling at the home. She found it hard to believe that a pirate could afford to live in such luxury. As they rounded the back of the house, she noticed a large separate building with a fireplace jutting out. She assumed this was the kitchen. Some of the fishermen in her village had similar setups. The kitchen was offset from the main house in order to keep the home cooler.
They stopped by the wagons that had arrived earlier. James was ordering several of the servants. He turned at the approaching figures. Before he could speak a short, plump gray-haired woman emerged from the house. She was dressed all in black except for her white apron and hat.
“I told you to keep those filthy boots off my clean rugs!” she shouted at James.
James looked at the older woman. “It wasn’t me, Mrs. Potts.”
“Then who dirtied up my clean floors?” she scolded with her hands on her hips. “At least I know he didn’t do it this time,” she said as she turned and pointed to Max. She quickly glanced at Kristina, not realizing she was a woman thanks to her attire. “Did you bring home another scoundrel for me to feed?”
Max dismounted and walked over to the short, plump lady. He picked her up and gave her a big bear hug as he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “No.”
She gave him a quizzical look at his unusual greeting, like he had lost his mind, but said nothing about it. “Well, good. Once the items are unloaded, he can leave with the others. I won’t have you destroying Mr. Sinclair’s home.”
“No,” Max replied again.
“Awfully chatty today, aren’t you?” Mrs. Potts caustically replied as she looked up at Max.
Max gave a small laugh and smiled at the older woman. She had been Alex’s housekeeper for many years and was like a mother to them all. She knew of Alex’s secret identity and swore to keep it safe. She was fiercely loyal to Alex. Max couldn’t quite remember how Alex managed to acquire Mrs. Potts’s employment, but everyone was glad he did. She was overly protective and too motherly to suit some of the crew, but most didn’t mind. She tended their wounds, mended their clothing, fed them to the point of overindulgence, and would defend them to the bitter end.
Max motioned for Kristina to dismount and come to him. He was curious as to how Mrs. Potts would handle the news of his marriage. “Mrs. Potts, I would like you to meet Kris—”
“Another lost soul Mr. Sinclair added to his employment?”
“My wife.”
Mrs. Potts gave him a puzzled look as she croaked, “Your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Potts laughed. “Here I thought you didn’t possess a sense of humor, Max. Now, tell me, who is this, really?”
“It’s true,” Kristina replied as she removed her large black hat, allowing her long ebony hair to cascade down. “Max and I are married.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Potts responded, rapidly blinking in disbelief as Kris revealed her gender. Never in her life would she have dreamt that this dark, brooding man before her would ever marry. He was so distrusting of females because of his mother. It had taken him several years to begin to trust her. “I beg your pardon at my rudeness,” Mrs. Potts said as she stared at Kristina. “I just never imagined Max marrying.”
“I find it hard to believe myself. But you can thank Alex,” Max replied as he began lifting one of the wooden crates out of the wagon. He flinched as pain surged through his injured arm.
“Max, your arm,” Kristina warned.
“It’s fine.”
“Well, if you bust a stitch, don’t ask me to mend it for you,” she replied as she sassily tossed her head.
“Yes, dear,” was Max’s facetious reply.
“Well, then,” Mrs. Potts interrupted as she turned towards Kristina, unsure of what to make of Max’s newfound pleasantness. “Let’s go inside while the men finish unloading the wagons. I’ll have some refreshments brought to the sitting room while we await Mr. Sinclair’s arrival.”
Mrs. Potts escorted Kristina into the home. They entered through a small preparation room in the back. As they walked, Kristina marveled at the eloquent furnishings of Alex’s house. Walking through the dining area, she noticed an oak table large enough to seat at least twenty guests. The table was set with crystal wine goblets, porcelain china, linen napkins and multiple candelabras. There was a pristine crystal chandelier above the table. They walked through the large double French doors into a foyer. From there, Mrs. Potts led her into a small room on the left decorated with Chippendale furnishings. She motioned Kris to have a seat in the ivory Victorian chair. As Kris stepped towards it, her feet were cushioned on a deep olive-colored Turkish rug. A
large painting of an elegant family hung on the wall above the sofa. Kristina studied the painting. There was a brown-haired distinguished looking gentleman, a lovely blond-haired lady, and a small blond-haired boy. As she studied the boy, she began to realize it was Alex and that this was a family portrait.
Mrs. Potts returned shortly with some pastries and tea. She set the refreshments on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa across from Kristina.
“So,” Mrs. Potts began. “Tell me about yourself … Kris was it?”
“Kristina,” she corrected. “And there’s not much to tell.” She was not about to tell a total stranger about her life. Instead, she looked around the room and asked, “Is this really the captain’s home? I mean, how does a pirate afford such a magnificent home?”
Mrs. Potts bestowed a warm smile. She could tell by the way Max was watching this petite young woman that he trusted her. “Yes, it all belongs to Mr. Sinclair. And, yes, a pirate could afford such accommodations. The hauls they bring in are quite extraordinary, leaving the captain and his crew very wealthy men. But someone of influence could also afford such a home.”
“Who is Mr. Sinclair?”
“Alex,” Mrs. Potts answered as if it were common knowledge. She poured each a cup of tea. Handing one to Kristina, she continued, “You see, Mr. Sinclair has a specific duty. His parents are quite wealthy and powerful. And being their only child, Mr. Sinclair is quite wealthy in turn.”
“I’m confused. If his parents are so well off and influential, why does he commit piracy?”
“I do not know, child. Why don’t you ask him yourself? I simply work for him and,” her voice changed from that of caring to one of warning, “will protect him and his crew at all costs.”
Kristina did not miss the meaning of her words. Like all of Alex’s crew, apparently his household staff was just as faithful to him. She had witnessed firsthand how he took care of those employed by him. His crew would die to protect him, even the new ones. They were just as loyal to Max and each other. They were each other’s family. Kristina remembered the crew on The Revenge, and Alex’s crewmembers were nothing like those men. The Revenge’s crew were cutthroats who would kill their comrades in order to increase their station on the ship.
“I’m happy to hear that,” Kristina told the overly protective housekeeper. “I’ve become quite fond of some of the crew and Samuel as well.”
“Ah, yes. James mentioned Samuel to me. I’ve never met him. Does he really look like Mr. Sinclair?”
“Yes,” Kristina replied, still wondering why Mrs. Potts kept calling Alex, Mr. Sinclair. “Actually, he looks like a miniature of the captain.” Kristina took a long thoughtful breath. “I’m glad I’ve got to know him. If I hadn’t been kidnapped and escaped, I would have never met these people.”
“Mr. Sinclair kidnapped you?!”
“No. Allow me to explain.” Kristina went on to tell Mrs. Potts how she came to be part of Alex’s crew and Max’s wife, leaving out that Max was an unwilling participant in the wedding.
Mrs. Potts leaned over and patted Kristina’s hand. “I’m glad you were kidnapped,” she said. Kristina shot her an appalled look. “Allow me to explain. I noticed how Max watches you. He was actually approachable this time. Normally, I stay clear of him when he first docks because the stress of being at sea eats at him for some reason. Deep down I think he hates being at sea, but refuses to admit it. Anyway, he normally is quite irritable—more than usual—for the first few days. But today he was … happy. He was actually smiling. I even heard him laugh while unloading, which is even more uncommon.” Mrs. Potts leaned over and patted Kristina’s hand again. “You’re good for him, child, whether he knows it or not. Who knows, maybe you can make him forget that horrible woman.”
“What are you two discussing?” Both women quickly turned towards the door as Alex and Samuel entered the room.
“Mr. Sinclair,” rejoiced the housekeeper. She rushed over and gave him a caring hug and pulled back. She held him a arm’s length away as she took in his appearance. “Look at you! You look like a ruffian. I’ll have Emily draw a bath for you and your crew. How many will be staying this time?”
Alex returned the jovial housekeeper’s embrace. “Good to see you, too, Mrs. Potts. And there will only be six of us staying, counting me and the newlyweds,” he said as he gave Kristina a wink.
“Will Mr. Smitty be staying with us?” she questioned with hopefulness in her green eyes.
A crooked smile crossed Alex’s face. Mrs. Potts had become quite smitten with Smitty on their last visit. She had been terribly lonely since her husband passed two years ago. “Not this time. He is staying on The Abyss this docking.” He watched as a look of disappointment crossed her face. “But, I’ll be sure to invite him for dinner tomorrow evening.”
“That would be lovely,” she replied as a small blush crept up her cheeks.
“Now, I would like you to meet the newest member of my crew. Mrs. Potts, this is Samuel. Samuel, this is Mrs. Potts. Give her your greatest respect, boy. If you disrespect her, she has my permission to turn you over her knee.”
Mrs. Potts turned towards the boy and gave him a warm smile. She pulled the boy to her and placed his head into her large bosom, giving him a motherly hug.
“Don’t suffocate him, Mrs. Potts,” Alex teased as he witnessed her acceptance of his newest crewmember.
She pulled Samuel back, capturing his face in her hands. “Oh, so sorry, child.” She took his hand and led him towards the stairs. “Allow me to show you to your room.”
Alex laughed as he watched Mrs. Potts dote over Samuel. He knew she always wanted children, but she could never conceive any. He turned back towards Kristina. He walked over and sat down on the sofa Mrs. Potts had just vacated. Picking up one of the pastries, he put the entire thing into his mouth. “They’re good.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “But they don’t taste like yours.”
Kristina smiled sweetly at Alex. “So,” she stated to break the silence that followed Alex’s statement. “This is really your home?”
Alex nodded his head as he picked up another pastry. “Yes.” A mischievous expression crossed his face. “Being the Governor’s son does have its advantages.”
“Excuse me?” she asked with skepticism in her voice. Alex just gave her a toothy grin and put another pastry in his mouth. He watched as the information he told her sank into her head. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. “You’re the son of that Sinclair! Wait … I thought your last name was Xavier?”
“Shhh,” Alex whispered as he leaned over and sheepishly admitted, “Don’t tell the entire island my secret. Xavier is my cover.”
“So why did you tell me?”
Alex got a befuddled look to his face. “I don’t know,” was his reply as he stood up. “Guess if Max can trust you, so can I.”
“Max doesn’t trust me. He hates me.”
A concerned look crossed Alex’s face. “He may come off as being a hard-ass, but he isn’t. That’s just his way. He doesn’t know how to treat anyone with anything but malice, thanks to his mother. He is distrustful of most people, especially of women.” Alex took a deep breath and a sorrowful look crossed his face. She could tell the treatment his friend received during his upbringing pained him. “You can break him. He needs you just as much as you need him.”
“We don’t need each other,” she said just barely above a whisper, not liking where this conversation was going.
“Yes, you do.” He walked over to Kristina, placed his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned over just inches from her face. “He doesn’t recognize you, but I do. You are the black-haired angel that he speaks about when he’s foxed. I know what you did for him five years ago. And for that, I am forever in your debt.” A shocked look crossed Kristina’s face. “Make him forget the demons that woman has instilled in him,” Alex told her and left the room.
Chapter Eighteen
Demons? She had never thought of what Max
had experienced at his mother’s hands as demons. But in truth, that was exactly what Max had experienced. His mother had been the devil in the flesh. What she did was to torment and abuse him his entire life. Her hatred and emotional scarring was still affecting him today, even years after her death. The image of him as a frightened little boy entered her mind, him begging for his mother’s approval only to have it slapped away by her vicious words and actions. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear Max approach.
He stood in the doorway and watched her for several minutes. God, she was so beautiful. She was Aphrodite in the flesh. How did he ever manage to get a goddess like this in his life? She tolerated him at his worst and had yet to see him at his best. Somehow he must rectify that. Her expression became sorrowful and Max wandered what this beautiful creature was thinking about to have upset her so.
“Did Mrs. Potts interrogate you?”
Kristina was drawn out of her daydream by Max’s question. “Pardon?”
“Mrs. Potts? Did she drag your life story out of you?” The confused look she gave made him continue. “She has a tendency to find out things. I swear she could be part of British intelligence. She could make a priest confess.” She looked up at her husband and noticed his teasing look.
“Yes. I imagine she would be quite useful at gathering information. Did you finish unloading the cargo without injuring your arm further?”
Max nodded his head. “The stitches are still intact.” He picked up the last pastry and took a bite. “Not like yours.”
“That’s what Alex said.”
“Come on. I’ll show you where we’ll be staying.”
