"You do not need to control me, Father. Just let me marry him. I will go away. You will be rid of me forever."
"And you think he will want to wed with you after already sampling your wares? Did Archie teach you nothing?"
She felt as if he'd slapped her. "Archie was different. He had no character. Nathan Trevain is the most honorable man I know."
"So honorable that he would kidnap you? Use you whilst you pretended to be engaged to him? Oh, yes, I know it all, although how Phoebe could let you do something so foolish, I have no idea. Imagine, your going back into society."
"I only went to appease her. And what Nathan did he did out of necessity. Surely you, as a man of war, should understand?"
"I understand better how a man would pretend to love a woman in an effort to cajole her into helping him."
"Is that what you think he has done?"
"Of course."
"No. You are wrong. He loves me. I know it here," she placed a hand on her chest. "In my heart."
He didn't look appeased by her words. "Well, you shall not have the opportunity to find out if he truly does or not. He is to be taken to the Tower the moment I give the signal."
"I am surprised you have not done so already."
"I have not because I wish to make you an offer of sorts." And here her father's eyes turned crafty.
"An offer?"
"I will let Nathan Trevain go free if you agree to cut off all relations with him."
"No," she immediately said. "I already told you. I will not do it, Father. I love him, and he me."
"That is my offer. Take it or leave it."
"Then I will leave it. I will find some way to be with him, even if it means never seeing you again."
His face became pinched. "You would not dare to cut off relations with me. Think of the scandal."
"Scandal?" Anger had her taking a step forward, had her flexing her fingers. "As if I care. You may be my father, but you do not act it. You could have arranged a marriage for me years ago, a marriage that would have helped to salvage some of my reputation. But you did nothing, just as you promised. You left me in Bettenshire to rot. I have nothing to gain by staying under your control and everything to gain by following my heart."
"There is Wess Trevain."
She all but flinched. "What about him?"
"He is on board this ship."
"No," she gasped.
Her father's expression turned unreadable. "'Twas a simple matter to have Trevain's brother transported to this ship."
"Release him, Father. Release Wess Trevain." Her pulse pounded at her neck. She held her breath as she waited for his response.
"No," he said.
She closed the distance between them, grabbing his cold, hard hand. "Please, Father. If I mean anything at all to you—anything—do this for me."
His lips tightened. He pulled his hand away. "No," he repeated. "We will use the man as a way to get information out of Mr. Trevain."
"Information? But the war is over."
Her father shrugged. "To some it is, but the political war is far from over. There are still battles being waged, but they are not of the physical kind. Nathan Trevain can help us shed some light on the climate back in the colonies. His brother will serve as the perfect impetus to do so."
She stepped back, felt her face drain of color. "Have you no heart? The man has been through enough already."
"The man is a traitor to the Crown and a former spy. Ah, yes. I know he is Helios, though I see by your face you are surprised. I've always known. 'Tis why I choose to take my time helping him. 'Tis the least I can do to repay him for the damage he caused us in the war. And now his recapture will only enhance my position with the Board by showing them that my foolish daughter's actions were the result of a broken female mind."
"You bastard."
He lifted one side of his mouth. "I am a man of war, Ariel. It is time you realized that."
"Please don't do this."
"You have only to give the word and I will not. I will let him go—and Wess Trevain—if you promise to have nothing further to do with the man—and if you promise to have Dr. Anthony Addington examine you."
She jerked in surprise. "Dr. Addington? Why, that is a mental physician."
"Aye, it is, and the perfect way for your behavior to be explained."
Her temper flared. "So you would sacrifice my reputation even further? You would now have me branded mad as well as a harlot?"
"That is the deal, Ariel. You may take it or leave it."
No. She would leave it, for what he suggested was so heartless, so cruel, she could barely fathom his loathing for her.
"Why?" She found herself croaking. "Why do you hate me so?"
He gave her a look of impatience. "Ariel, I do not hate you. For all your faults, you are still my daughter—"
"Am I? I begin to wonder."
The impatience turned to anger. "You are my daughter, and as such, I will do what it takes to insure that you behave in a manner befitting your station. A mental imbalance is the only explanation to my peers of your recent behavior. Imagine, parading about town as if nothing had happened. That in itself speaks of madness. And it is the only deal I am willing to give you. Give yourself over to Dr. Addington and never see Nathan Trevain again, or do your best to make a life with him in the Tower, his brother left to rot somewhere else. The choice is yours."
She lifted her head, a tear of frustration and disappointment escaping. "You truly mean to make me decide?"
"Be grateful I am giving you something to decide on at all."
"Ah, but you do so for your own political gain, not for me."
"I do so for both our sakes. The D'Archer name has been synonymous with government since Henry VIII was on the throne. That will not change with me simply because I have had the misfortune to sire a daughter without an ounce of common sense in her head."
She wanted to hit him of a sudden, even found herself leaning forward to do so. But the fight drained out of her. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how he'd stripped away whatever love she'd felt for him.
"Well?" he asked.
"I need time to decide."
"Time? What is there to think about?"
"There is much." She turned.
"Where are you going?"
"On deck." She paused, looking back. "Do not fear, Father, I will not do something truly mad, like toss myself overboard in an attempt to swim ashore."
"Just the same, you will be escorted."
She almost balked, almost told him to go to the devil. But again she refused to react. "As you wish."
If her father was surprised by her easy acquiescence, he didn't show it. He called out to Phillips, who apparently stood right outside the door. Tightening her cloak about her, she didn't give her father another glance as she left his quarters. She ignored Phillips, too, preferring instead to seek the company of a black night and foggy air. Moisture clung to her face. No, not moisture, she realized, tears, instant tears of anger and frustration and hopelessness.
What to do?
Truly, she didn't seem to be able to think straight. She turned left, climbed the steps of the poop deck, then headed for the back rail. 'Twas quieter up there, the men who inhabited the main decks going about their evening business of stowing ropes and sails.
What to do? she asked herself again and again.
She closed her eyes, grateful that Phillips gave her a bit of distance.
If she left the ship now, her father would have Nathan taken to the Tower. Worse, he would do so before she could reach him, for the only way off this ship was to jump or be rowed ashore. And on such a dark and foggy night, finding shore would be a lucky guess at best, not to mention she could drown in her clothes or suffer from the cold to the point at which she lost consciousness and drowned. The possibilities were endless, even though she knew the shore lay less than a quarter-mile away. Dare she risk it?
"I wouldn't if I were you, my lady.
"
She jumped, surprised that Phillips had moved in so close.
"Wouldn't what?"
"Jump," he said.
"What makes you think I shall jump? My father runs this ship. If I wish to go ashore, I shall simply ask."
"I am your father's second in command. I know the offer he presented you with."
She straightened in surprise and hurt before turning back to the rail. Though she could barely see his face, she could feel his presence like a shadow of her father's will.
"Then you know of my relationship with Nathan Trevain?"
"Yes, but jumping will do you no good. If you made it to shore, there would be nothing you could do to help him—if you made it. You could lose your way in this soup. Find yourself swimming toward France before you realized what you'd done. 'Tis not worth the risk."
She clutched the rail, the dank wood sinking into her nails. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. "But I cannot do it, sir. I cannot make a decision like this." Sudden tears choked her throat, tumultuous emotions pooled in her stomach and made it ache. Or was that her heart? "I love him, you see."
He didn't answer. Truly, she didn't expect him to. He was her father's ally, one who'd been sent to keep her doing something foolish. A decision must be made and made tonight, yet never had she felt more confused and more incapable of one in her life.
"You need to understand that your father will do anything to protect your reputation."
"Have I truly damaged it then? Have I plunged the D'Archer name into scandal again."
"Aye. Only this is much worse than ruining yourself."
So he knew of that, too? She should not be surprised. She would dare say every man on board knew of her scandalous behavior.
"What I have done I have done to right a wrong. Mr. Trevain is not a traitor for serving his country any more than you are."
"Not in the colonies, but here on this shore he is. That your father is willing to let him go free is a risk I am surprised he is willing to take."
"Oh, I've no doubt he will spin it into a political move on his part. He will claim to be restoring relations between the two countries or some such nonsense. 'Tis how my father is. Nothing is done unless he stands to gain."
She felt a hand fall on her shoulder. For some reason the contact nearly shattered her control. More tears slid down her face, tears she been valiantly trying to hold back.
"Sometimes, my lady, one must give the ultimate sacrifice in order for the greater good to be done."
She stared down into the black water. "But how can I let him go?"
"The way we all let go of our loved ones when we step aboard this ship, many of us never to return to shore. Say good-bye."
"He will not let me. I know it."
"Then send him a note, fabricate an excuse, but do what you must."
Do what she must? But did she have to do this? Was there not some other way to resolve it all?
Yet she knew there wasn't. 'Twas why her father had brought her aboard the ship. The waters around her acted as a prison. He knew she might try to flee when faced with such a decision. He'd also known she'd elect to stay with Nathan, as his wife or as his lover, she didn't care. Only now she knew that would never happen. If she told her father she cast her fate with Nathan, then he would take him to the Tower. Wess would be kept a prisoner, too, for how long Ariel had no idea. Short of pleading her case before the king, her hands were tied.
She closed her eyes again, feeling tears squeeze through her lids. God, but could she do it? Could she let him go?
Taking a deep breath, feeling as if she were about to splinter apart inside, she turned to Phillips. "May I see Wess Trevain? I wish to give him a message to take back to Nathan."
"I'll see what I can arrange." He patted her shoulder. Ariel wanted to tell him to go to hell, wanted to yell at him for doing her father's bidding. But most of all, she wanted to curl up into a little ball. God, she didn't think she could do it. She just didn't. For so long she'd hoped to find someone to love her. So long. . .
She faced the sea again, wondering how uncomfortable a death it would be to drown. But no, she could not think that, for she needed to face Nathan's brother, needed to find a way to break Nathan's heart, for that would be the only way he would leave her side. Of that she was sure.
She shook her head, feeling the pain of what she was about to do as a physical ache in her chest. It took her a moment to catch her breath, took her a moment to stop the tears she hadn't known she'd been crying from flowing down her face. She blindly stared out to sea, knowing what she was about to do would be the hardest, most difficult thing she'd ever face.
For how did one break a loved one's heart?
How did one live with a broken heart?
21
Nathan stared at the four midshipmen and one officer who stood in his room, wanting to lunge at them all, to grab them about the throat and scream at them the one question they refused to answer.
Where was Ariel?
He'd woken a half hour ago to find her gone, had sat up in bed looking for her when the men had burst in, muskets leveled. Their orders for him to get dressed were hastily obeyed. And though a part of him had wondered if Ariel had somehow aided in his capture again, the other part of him knew she had not. If she'd wanted him captured, she'd have left him in London. There was nothing for her to gain by bringing him here to Brighton.
Nothing but her love.
And she did love him. Though she had not spoken the words aloud, he could see the reflection of how she felt in her eyes. She loved him, and, God help him, he loved her, too.
A click and his bedroom door opened. He turned, hoping it was Ariel, shocked nearly into speechlessness at who he saw there instead.
"Wess!" The name escaped in a gasp.
"Nathan," his brother said. His body was held between two officers. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, the two men on either side of him having to act quickly to keep him from falling. And when he did slump to the ground, who stood behind him but Ariel?
Ariel, his wonderful Ariel.
Love such as he'd never known filled Nathan. How the hell had she found him?
"Put him in the bed," she ordered softly.
They did as she ordered, Nathan rushing to his brother's side. It was then that he saw them. The bruises. The cuts. God, they were everywhere. Wess's shirt was ripped from the force of them.
"I'm sorry, Nathan," Ariel said softly, having come up behind him.
He turned to her.
"They have beaten him rather badly."
"Who?" he clipped.
There was no need to explain who he meant. "Captain Pike and his men."
He would kill them. He turned toward the bed again. They had laid him down on his belly. Nathan saw why in an instant. Cuts, hundreds of them, crisscrossed his back, his shirt stained red with the blood from them.
"Leave us," Ariel ordered to the room at large.
"My lady," said a man Nathan hadn't seen before. He must have come in with Ariel, a young officer who looked at her with warning.
She shook her head in so small a movement as to be nearly undetectable to anyone but the man. But Nathan saw it, wondered at it.
"I will be safe here," she said. "You need only wait outside the door."
The man's eyes shot around the room, clearly uncomfortable with her request. But then his eyes settled on Wess, then Ariel. He nodded. "As you wish."
"Please have someone fetch a physician, too. And we will need bandages and water. Lots of water."
Again the man nodded. Nathan's gaze shot between the two. His brother groaned, and all was forgotten but the need to help him. Wess. Wess who'd been beaten to within an inch of his life.
He heard the door close, heard Ariel approach the bed, but she went to the other side.
"They made him run the gauntlet while he was at sea." she said, pain evident in the husky timbre of her voice.
"Why?" he croaked, looking back at his brother,
at all the blood, some of it black around the edges, some of it still oozing.
"He tried to escape. He was put on trial for desertion. They were going to hang him, but my father stopped them."
His gaze snapped to hers. "Your father?"
She nodded. "He is here. . . in port."
The news stunned him, as he was sure it had stunned Ariel. She must have reacted quickly, however, going to the man to plead for help. Never was Nathan more grateful to someone in his life, never more in love.
"How can I thank you?"
She looked away. The door opened without a knock. The same officer said, "Water, my lady. And clean cloths."
"Put them here." She motioned next to her. One of the men who'd guarded Nathan carried two buckets.
"One is cold water, the other warm."
Ariel nodded again. "Thank you, Phillips."
The man called Phillips stared down at her. Nathan felt an instant of jealousy as he watched him touch her shoulder. "An hour, my lady. Nothing more."
"I understand and I thank you for what you've done so far. I know you take a great risk."
The man nodded. "'Tis the least I can do."
Nathan listened to the exchange, wondered about it. He was about to ask what would happen in a hour, but Ariel had turned back to the bed. She dipped one of the cloths in a bucket, handing it across the bed to him. "Here. We need to bathe him. I fear he may suffer from an infection."
The moment Nathan touched his brother's body, he knew her words to be true. He could feel the heat rise off his body. Working together, they removed his shirt, then his breeches, Nathan's anger at the men who'd done this to Wess increasing with every revealed scar.
"'Tis awful," he heard her say.
Yet she did not flinch, not even when they began to wipe away the blood. Not even when Wess cried out in pain. Nathan bade him stay still, but a few minutes later nature took care of the matter for him. His brother lost consciousness again. He and Ariel worked quickly in tandem then. She would remove a piece of shirt, he would wash the wound, his brother's blood spilling on his hands, his clothes, the bed. Yet she did her work silently, efficiently. Nathan's admiration for her, if possible, increased even more. And when they were finished and she came over to the basin that stood upon a dresser to wash her hands, he marveled at her cool reaction, even as he followed in her wake to do the same.
Enchanted by Your Kisses Page 22
