As she returned to the great hall, Bella assumed he would be annoyed enough to remain at the balustrade. She guessed he would not be accustomed to having women snub him, and her slight had likely caught him off guard long enough for her to call for her coach and make good her escape.
As it happened, she was paying so much attention to appearing not to pay attention at all to the tall privateer, that she collided with the host, Lord Parker Seville, who just happened to be walking by the archway as she swept through to the hall. Short, stubby, as round in girth as he was tall, he stuttered and staggered back a pace as he walked straight into the crush of her skirts. His face turned florid and his hands flapped like an awkward osprey, catching her as she stumbled forward against his chest.
"God forgive a clumsy oaf," he exclaimed. "Apologies, m'dear. M’ feet were not going in the same directions as m’ eyes."
"No harm done, my lord," she assured him softly, her hands resting on his chest a moment. "The fault was mine for not paying heed. I was so dazzled by the beauty of your gardens. I confess I saw little else."
Lord Parker peered myopically closer. "Pon m’word, I know thee do I not? Friend of m’ daughter?"
Bella dropped into a gracious curtsey and lowered her lashes. "I do have the honor and privilege, my lord, of knowing sweet Agatha and hopefully being counted among her friends."
He waggled a stubby finger in the air. "And I do know the name, m’dear, I do indeed."
A manservant beside him lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Lady Bellanna Wrexworth-Harper, if it please you my Lord."
"Of course, of course! Lady Harper!" A clammy paw reached out and clasped hers, dragging it up to press against lips that were crusted with dried spittle at the corners from talking too much.
"It does indeed please me, m’ dear." His eyes lingered myopically on her cleavage as he straightened again. "Harper, you say? And your husband might be the late Lord Wrexworth-Harper from Leeds? I heard he died of the liver ague. Damned shame that. My condolences. Honor and steel. Good man."
Bella lowered her lashes and tipped her head with a soft sigh. "I thank you, my lord, for your kind words."
"But what’s this?" His eyes finally rose from her breasts and were distracted to a point over her shoulder. "Was the party taken out of doors and I was not informed?"
Without releasing Bella’s hand he rushed forward, effectively spinning her around on her heels. Standing just behind, a broad shoulder propped indolently against the stone arch, was Jonas Dante.
"Dante, m’ good man. I trust you have found the company pleasant and the victuals appealing?"
The privateer's gaze remained on Bella a moment longer than was necessary before flicking to their robust host.
"A feast fit for kings, Lord Parker and the company is... entertaining. A truly excellent affair by any standards. Well met, Sir."
Lord Parker’s face flushed even redder with the compliments and he turned to Bella. "You are acquainted with our guest of honor?"
She forced a smile. "I am not so fortunate, my lord."
"Pon m’ word then, allow me the pleasure for 'tis not every day a man has the unparalleled distinction of entertaining a veritable legend under his humble roof."
Dante straightened out of his casual slouch and glanced behind him. "A legend say you? Pray, point the fellow out to me that I might applaud him as well."
"Modesty, good sir. Modesty! A credit even in a rapscallion." Lord Parker assumed a formal stance, his enormous girth only allowing a slight bow as he presented Bella to the tall privateer. "Lady Bellanna Wrexworth-Harper, ‘tis with great delight I introduce thee to Captain Jonas Dante, adventurer, rogue, and scoundrel in extremus."
Bella dropped into a perfunctory curtsey as she murmured, "Captain Dante. A pleasure."
The privateer bowed over her hand with a blatantly piratical grin. "I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, Lady Harper."
"And now if you gentlemen will excuse me," she said with a tight smile. "I shall leave you to your company and seek out my cloak and carriage. It has been a truly wondrous evening my lord, and I thank you for your hospitality, but I am undertaking a long journey in the morning and I must ensure that all is packed and ready for an early departure."
"Of course, m’dear, of course." Lord Parker bowed over her hand again pleased to have another glance down her cleavage. "I shall have my manservant escort you to your coach at once."
Released from his clammy grip, Bella turned to go.
"Hold up there, Lord Parker, is this your sticker?"
Bella glanced back and saw Dante holding up an enormous yellow diamond mounted on a gold stickpin.
"Pon m’ word, Sir." Lord Parker patted his goffered lace ruff and ran a stubby hand down the front of his doublet. "So it is, so it is. A sharp eye you have there, Captain. Very sharp. M’wife would have had m’guts for garters if I’d lost that."
Bella scarcely dared to take her eyes off the pin—the same pin she had just plucked from the shoulder of his doublet when she and her host had ‘accidentally’ collided. She had deftly palmed it and transferred it to the pocket of her skirt without so much as blinking an eye.
Had she missed the transfer to her pocket? Had it slipped and fallen and somehow become stuck in the silk of her skirt?
No. No, she had never made such a novice mistake, not even when she was learning the snatch. Moreover she was certain she had felt it slide from her fingers into the pocket.
Her gaze moved slowly from the still-fussing, spluttering Lord Parker Seville to Jonas Dante. The amber eyes were waiting, cool and steady, and in that split second she knew she had not missed the transfer. He had watched her take the pin, watched her slip it from her hand to the pocket, from whence he had removed it—probably when he bowed over her hand to kiss it. He must then have dropped it to make it look as though the loss was an accident.
She waited, shocked into an inability to think for the second time that night, a shock compounded by anger at her own carelessness. Her skin flushed warm even as her chest turned icy cold while she waited for the vaunted pirate Captain, the one she had so recently played for a stripling fool, to denounce her as a common thief.
~~
The hand that grasped Bella's elbow was firm.
“If you will excuse us, Lord Parker, I will happily escort the lady to her carriage and possibly—” Dante paused to wink at the still-fussing host— “win a smile and a kind word of thanks for doing so.”
Without waiting to hear if Lord Parker might object, Dante’s grip tightened on her elbow but instead of leading her further into the crowded hall, he guided her back out onto the terrace. Bella had no choice but to keep pace or risk having her arm ripped off at the shoulder. Her heart was thudding dully in her chest and her throat felt as if she'd swallowed a mouthful of blotting sand.
When they were far enough from the open doors to avoid curious eyes and ears he stopped and turned to confront her.
For a full thirty seconds neither one spoke.
Finally, he smiled. “You are damned good, girl. I almost missed it.”
“Indeed it was lucky you saw the pin before someone trod on it.” Her voice came out remarkably steady in spite of the gooseflesh she could feel spreading through her entire body. “I imagine it is very valuable.”
“As you should know.” His smile broadened and he leaned forward, sliding his free hand into the folds of her skirt. Before she could sidestep or pull away he had withdrawn the contents. Lying in his open palm, catching the light from the moon, was the diamond bracelet, the silver chain, and the ruby brooch.
“Like I said, you are very good.”
Bella stared at the twinkling jewels. It crossed her mind to act surprised, but she dismissed that on a blink. She could splutter a good imitation of their host and declare they were hers and she had merely grown weary of wearing them... but that too she reconsidered on a single glance into Dante’s piercing eyes. They were intent upon her face as if he co
uld read each option as it flitted through her head. It was an uncomfortable feeling and one that brought the heat of a blush stinging into her cheeks. Her success thus far was based in a large part on being able to act cool, calm, and unreadable in any situation. Flushing like a schoolgirl was the reaction of a novice.
A further amateur response had her glancing past his broad shoulders. The wide sweep of stairs was enticingly close at hand. She was lighter than the burly privateer by several stone and had the speed of a gazelle. Hampering her would be the voluminous skirt and cage-like farthingale beneath, also the snug fit of the bodice that allowed for little air or flexibility even when standing still. The vision of her flying down the stairs with the skirt hiked up and belling out behind was only made more ludicrous by the knowledge she would likely topple over in a dead faint at the bottom from an inability to breathe.
As a further deterrent: there were footmen and servants everywhere. Guests were strolling along the paths and exchanging whispers under the covering shadows of the trees. Dante would only need to shout and she would be brought to ground.
She risked a peek upward and found him smirking.
She released a puff of breath. "Are you always this smug?"
"Aye, pretty much." He grinned. “What, no river of tears? No attempt to seduce me into keeping my silence?"
Both thoughts briefly crossed her mind. Tears were always an alternative few men could resist. She could bat her eyelashes like a befuddled virgin if the need was there, but somehow she did not think the sight of a wet cheek would sway this pirate. As for seducing him…one look at the brawn in his arms as he crossed them over his chest and her thighs instinctively pressed together. He was no mewling old man. He would not be content with a peck on the cheek and feigned delight over the touch of his hand.
She was caught, and fairly so. It only remained to see if he would torment her, like a cat with a mouse, making her beg for leniency... or whether he would make some exorbitant demand for his silence. The latter, she supposed. A thought that made her finally break contact with his eyes.
“Indeed, you should be embarrassed,” he murmured.
"I am not embarrassed," she muttered. "I am angry."
"Ah. Then I would be correct in presuming this was not your first foray into larceny?”
Bella pressed her lips together and turned to stare out at the gardens.
"No, I don't imagine it was. I expect you have been quite successful up to now for who, in possession of all their senses, would suspect the lovely Lady Bellanna Harper of having light fingers?"
Bella drew as deep a breath as the stomacher would allow. “Do you enjoy toying with all of your victims, Captain?”
“Victim?” He arched an eyebrow. “I hardly think you are the victim here tonight."
She bristled. “All right then... captives. Do you enjoy provoking all of your captives?”
He pursed his lips. “Not all of them. I am inclined to toss the dullards overboard and only keep the ones who intrigue me.”
She glanced at him sidelong. “I intrigue you?”
Dante grinned. "I grant you are not as boring as most of the crowd here tonight. You are wearing a gown worth an honest man’s lifetime wages, attending a fête hosted by one of the king’s cousins and attended by princes and courtiers and men who leave large footprints wherever they walk. Why should I not be intrigued to discover a penny thief lurking beneath all the silk and frippery?”
The two rouged spots on her cheeks burned hotter with indignation as she murmured, “Hardly a penny thief, Sir Pirate.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. Bella grimaced as the robust sound carried beyond the terrace, winning the startled attention of some of the guests strolling along the pathways.
“True enough," he agreed. "The bracelet alone would bring tears of greed to a moneylender’s eyes. The chain... well... rather vulgar and not to my taste at all, but heavy in weight and likely to fetch a pretty coin or two. The brooch, alas, might be as sparkly as the avaricious gleam in your eye, but I think you will find it not worthy of your efforts.”
Responding to her frown, he set the brooch down and stepped on it, grinding his heel over the center stone. When he lifted his boot there was only white powder where the jewel had been.
“Why that cheap bastard,” she muttered. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she clamped her lips together again, fully expecting to hear another gust of laughter.
Instead, he took a step closer and slid his hand around her waist, drawing her close enough to murmur in her ear. "You enjoy the company of generous bastards more?"
She placed her hands flat on his chest but did not push away immediately. He was not doused in perfumes or pomades and had a distinctly masculine smell about him of sea and salt air and leather. His arm was like an iron band around her waist and his breath was warm against her neck. Jonas Dante was big and solid and for a moment she lost her ability to think.
When she found it again, she twisted out of his grip and smoothed her hands down her skirt. “What game are you playing at, Captain? If you intend to hand me over to the authorities, pray do so and be done with it."
His eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth curved up in a smile. "If I was going to serve you up to the sheep's heads, I would have done so by now. Since I am considered a prince among thieves myself I can hardly condemn you for your exquisite talents in that area. What is more, I would be as likely to find myself tossed into a gaol cell before anyone would take an accusation of mine to heart. On the other hand, my silence on the matter— "his gaze strayed down to her bosom— “must be worth something to you."
"I would not have thought you needed to blackmail women into your bed, Captain."
"Most come willingly," he agreed blithely, "and leave reluctantly."
Bella was able to refrain from rolling her eyes at his arrogance, but just barely.
"I am not one to seduce or cajole," he added, his eyes narrowing as he read her expression. "I find it to be a waste of time and patience."
"And if the woman is unwilling, or your attentions are unwanted?"
Dante smiled and offered his arm. “I would fetch her a carriage, escort her home, and drop her at her doorstep like a properly cavalier lout.”
"What if she neither wanted nor needed his services as an escort?"
"I would think her an ingrate and reconsider my generosity in not crying thief."
Bella held his stare for a full minute. "And that is all you would do? Escort me to my doorstep?"
"That is all I would do. Unless of course, you would prefer to continue our discussion about bedrooms and seductions in more amiable surroundings."
“I was not aware there was anything more to discuss."
He smirked, the moonlight catching the scar on his chin and making it glow along the shiny ridge. “Like I said, you intrigue me and I am a curious fellow. As it happens, the Tribute is but a coach ride away, anchored at the Bellyns Gate wharf. It might be a tad noisy…for conversation… for we set sail on the morrow and my crew will be drunk as toads in anticipation of the happy event.”
“A common occurrence I expect."
He shrugged. "They work hard, they play hard."
"You as well?"
He grinned. "I have been known to… play hard, aye."
Being trapped on board a ship full of drunkards sounded about as appealing to Bella as poking herself in the eye with a red-hot iron.
“I may have strayed far off the one path, Captain, but I am not yet fallen completely into the fires of moral hell.”
His chuckle was deep and husky. “I assure you, Lady Nimblefingers, I am more than passingly familiar with that particular destination. Come now. I am sorely in need of an excuse to absent myself from this farce." He waved a hand in the direction of the lights and music. "'Escorting you away will provide it, for it has been a chore for me to keep a civil tongue in my head and I vow if one more carp-faced swab waves a silk kerchief at me, I'l
l stuff it down his throat and pull it out his arse."
It was Bella's turn to laugh, a totally involuntary response to his declaration, but it was enough to break the tension and she laid her hand delicately on the proffered arm of her oh-so-gallant escort.
Chapter Three
Bella called for her carriage and driver, which, with the jumbled line of coaches and drivers, took the best part of twenty minutes to procure. During that time, she sat primly on a gilded velvet bench in the grand foyer while Dante leaned against the wall beside her. Dante's hard gaze and ominous expression discouraged anyone from approaching and by the time the carriage had drawn up to the front entry, Bella was overtly amused.
"I thought all pirates enjoyed bragging about their exploits," she murmured as they walked outside together.
"I prefer the term privateer to pirate, and I take the private part to mean just that."
Bella paused at the carriage door long enough to lock her gaze to his for a moment, then climbed inside and settled herself into the corner. Dante lounged on the opposite bench, his long legs stretched out, his ankles crossed and his boots propped on their heels. His leather window blind was down and he was a dark blotch in the shadows whereas Bella’s face caught slices of the moonlight and allowed him the advantage of studying her features and expressions.
His first impression of her as a beauty had not waned, for hers was a face designed to turn strong men weak at the knees. Her eyes were large and of a most extraordinary shade of violet blue that reminded him of some damned flower that grew in the tropics, the name of which he had never troubled himself to know.
That she was a thief had admittedly taken him by surprise. In the Caribbee, on island strongholds where crews from many nations docked and drank or whored away their profits, yes. Women had fingers quicker than a hummingbird's wings. But in London, the supposed bastion of elite civilization, in a ballroom surrounded by lords and ladies and ministers of the court?
The Far Horizon Page 3
