She adopted a haughty attitude despite the quickening of her heartbeat at the thought of actually sleeping with this man, this pirate. She took a delicate sniff of him and wrinkled her nose. “You won’t be sharing my bed, dirty as you are, mine husband.”
He blinked. Taking a step back, he studied her. Without breaking eye contact, he took a quick whiff of his underarms, scrunched his nose, and then gave a short nod.
“Fair enough. I’ll take a bath down in the kitchen and then return. Do not attempt to lock me out, ma coeur. No one in my past has regretted presence their bed."
His suggestive grin irritated her. “That’s not the most resounding recommendation for a wife. The types of women you have slept with I would not seek endorsements from.”
She didn’t expect him to laugh, or that his laugh would be so attractive. He stepped away from her, swaggering toward the bedroom door while saying over his shoulder, “I will return. Ready yourself.” With that last cryptic riposte he departed.
“Prepare myself? Oh, mon dieu, it is tonight. Sophie’s breath stalled in her chest as though a fist clasped lungs. Her gaze darted about the room, not seeing anything within four walls, thoughts flashing from her wedding night to The Occurrence, back to the wedding night—
Then she stopped, took a labored breath. In the middle of the room, she forced herself to face the facts. Of what was she so afraid? After all, hadn’t the worse already happened, with Gilbert? Andre would not be like that. She knew this to be true, as she thought back on their aborted wedding night.
If she were honest with herself, what he had done to her bore no resemblance at all to what Gilbert had done. In fact, his attentions had been almost pleasurable, if she hadn’t been so panicky at the time. Besides, now he knew all the facts. Wouldn’t it make sense he would be even more careful with her, his wife?
Glancing about, she spied her reflection in the corner looking glass and approached it. The young woman looking back radiated anxiety, with wide, blue eyes and trembling lips. She bit those lips, studied her lightly tanned skin, her shape hidden from view under the nightgown and dressing gown, even her feet.
The woman mirrored there was captain of a pirate ship, had raided many a merchant vessel without firing a single shot, and had led a buccaneer crew successfully throughout the Caribbean. Being bedded by her devilishly handsome husband had to be child’s play compared to everything else. However, no child would ever play like Andre Dubois, she wagered. She blew out every candle in the room save one on his night table. She crawled under the cool sheets in the large, canopied feather bed to await her fate.
She was still awake an hour later when he reentered the dark room. Her pulse rate tripled, and she held her breath. Would he demand his husbandly rights?
The bed dipped beneath his sudden weight, and she squeezed her eyes shut. With her back to him, she couldn’t see what he was doing. Every muscle in her tensed. The faint light against her eyelids disappeared. She heard the rustle of the bedclothes and his sigh as he sank into his place beside her. She strained to hear his next movement.
It was several minutes before an unbelievable sound reached her ears. It wasn’t his voice. It wasn’t a lascivious chuckle. It was the sound of light snores. Her pirate husband had gone to sleep.
Flummoxed, she lay there in the dark. How dare he suggest tonight was the night they would finally consummate their marriage, cause her to be nervous and upset, and then just casually climb into bed without as much as a good night. He was beyond insufferable.
She’d experienced all sorts of tumult and grief this last hour imagining what he might expect. He’d swaggered in all full of bravado and bluster, only to fizzle upon his return. Maybe he was all talk and no action. Did she really have any proof of how good a lover he actually was? Besides The Kiss, of course?
She decided not to wake him to say any of these things, however. After all, though she was relieved to have gotten this reprieve, she was a tad curious about what men and women did during lovemaking. Andre had barely started on their wedding night. She knew there was much more to it than what he’d introduced, and nothing Gilbert had done resembled making love. That she understood. Nevertheless, her initiation would not be tonight.
Scooting as far onto her side of the bed as she could manage, she turned her back on him and closed her eyes. While attempting to ignore his rhythmic breathing as well as his very presence, she fell into her own much needed rest.
~*~
Early the following morning Andre surfaced from a deep sleep feeling refreshed. Accustomed to snatching catnaps between watches, an uninterrupted slumber in a comfortable bed rendered him wide-awake and energized. Lying on his back, he turned his head to the side and spied his wife in the same position he’d left her in last night—clinging to the edge of the bed like a lifeboat. He smiled.
She’d probably been spitting mad when he’d fallen asleep last night, expecting him to demand sex. Merde, he’d been tired. He would need a certain amount of restraint the first time he bedded her, and he wouldn’t have been able to dig that up last night. At least she slumbered now, oblivious to his presence. A few more nights like last night and she’d probably grow accustomed to him enough to relax.
Normally not a patient man, he nevertheless could see her side of the predicament. He did not want to push her beyond her comfort level, even if he was sporting a monstrous morning erection. Hadn’t he seen that flash of fear in her eyes last night when he’d told her he’d be sleeping with her?
No, it was best to continue winning her over in increments. Besides, he still had to decide what to do about the annulment. The paper he carried as a shield against intimacy made their separation legitimate, though he doubted the pudgy priest had entered it in the official books. So if he didn’t want to split from his wife, could tearing up the damning evidence render them as one again? He had no idea.
As was his habit with weighty decisions, he pushed it to the back of his mind and instead studied those slim shoulders and long tresses tumbling across her pillow. He toyed with the idea of edging toward her, caressing her hair to one side. Leaning in to kiss the soft skin of the nape of her neck, perhaps nibble on her delicate earlobe, and press his body ever closer—
No, that was the erection talking, and he knew damn well she wasn’t ready to surrender herself to him. He wished he didn’t have to waste this giant arousal, knowing that after his plans for today he wouldn’t be using any erection for a while.
He eased out of their bed in resignation and padded to the door. Upon opening it he found their clothes from yesterday in a pile, washed, folded, and neatly pressed.
Casting one, last, wistful glance upon his sleeping wife tucked deep in the bedclothes, he slipped from their room, gathering his fresh garments. It was time to get dressed and bid his father adieu.
~*~
A few hours later Sophie stirred, groggy and disoriented after having lain awake a good portion of the night stewing over her bed partner. Remembering said man, she turned her head, afraid to find Andre Dubois grinning wickedly at her. She found his side of the bed empty and cold.
With an odd sense of disappointment, she wondered where he was. She hopped out of bed and padded to the door. Opening it onto an empty hall, she discovered yesterday’s clothes in a tidy pile, topped by a simple note written on snowy parchment. She retrieved the items before skipping back to bed, curling up on it and opening the folded sheet of paper to read the strong, slanted handwriting—
Bonjour, ma colombe. I am overseeing the preparations for departure on our ships. please, avail yourself of my father’s hospitality until return this afternoon you.
Always,
Andre
In a small part of her subconscious, she admired her husband’s neat penmanship. However, the larger part of her mind balked at his high-handed treatment of her. She was no young miss sent back to the schoolroom to await his return. She was a pirate. A pirate captain, for goodness sake. No one told her what to do.
> Rejuvenated with righteous anger, she stripped off the beautiful nightgown. When her captain’s regalia once more fortified her, she glanced back at the white lawn night rail and robe. She paused, right hand suspended over the beautifully made, soft garments. Then, without fully understanding it, she grabbed the nightdress and matching robe before exiting the bedchamber.
~*~
“Please, please, eat some more, ma belle-fille. you will not dine very well once back on your ship, oui?" Louis prodded sophie while she picked at her breakfast. Her husband’s cocksure attitude toward expected obedience still caused to fret and enjoy the feast before her.
Studying her father-in-law, she frowned at how nervous he acted. He fiddled with his silverware, creased his napkin, and slurped his tea. It was almost as if that, by foisting more food on her, he was stalling her departure.
His behavior had something to do with her absent husband, she knew it. She sat back in her chair and placed the fork carefully on her plate while it still held a morsel of browned potato. She leaned forward and demanded his attention. “You’re keeping me here for a purpose, aren’t you, mon beau-père? What does he have planned?"
Louis met her gaze, and then glanced away. She pressed him.
“He wants me here, not on the ship, doesn’t he? Is he leaving without me?” Since this was the most viable reason, she shoved back her heavy chair, nearly toppling it as she threw down her napkin.
He rose also, speaking in a rush. “No, no, he most assuredly is not leaving you. He just...wants to make sure you’ll be safe. He’s also ensuring the ships are supplied correctly—”
She turned sharply, causing him to bump into her. She glared at him. “I can ready my own bloody ship quite well, and you know I can. There’s something else afoot and I don’t plan to wait to find out. Thank you for your hospitality, mine only father, but I will be on my way.
“Oh,” she paused in the breakfast room doorway. She took in his long, graying hair, wrinkled, worried face, and hangdog expression. She softened her words.
“I took the liberty of keeping the beautiful nightclothes. They were exquisite and I will find some time to wear them in the future.” She felt herself blush, for he would know she would wear them with his son.
“That’s fine, Captain Dubois. I had a feeling they would please you. Consider it part of your trousseau, Madam.”
Her gaze flew to his sparkling one and on impulse, she ran around to fling her arms about him. “Why couldn’t it be you?”
Even though her question was vague, he understood and cackled. Setting her back, he replied, “Because I’m still in love with my dead wife, ma fille. Give the lad some leeway. He may surprise you."
She wrinkled her nose at his comment. “He has been nothing but surprises, and none of them have I liked.”
Well, perhaps the tour of La Nouvelle-Orléans, she silently conceded, but that was all. For the short time she had known her husband, Andre Dubois had behaved in a self-absorbed, arrogant, and just plain bossy manner. He displayed only glimpses of kindness and understanding.
Tossing her head with a shrug, she bid her father-in-law adieu, clutching her knapsack close as she headed away from the Dubois residence and its safety.
She made her way to the harbor, and her ship. Upon laying eyes on the Phoenix, she spied her husband on its deck, orchestrating a bustling migration of her belongings from her ship to his. Her supposedly loyal first mate stood at Andre’s side as though in total agreement.
Fury, deep-seated and primitive, flashed through her like a lava flow, overtaking all her common sense. Andre Dubois was usurping her command, and she charged toward the gangway to stop him, struggling to pull her sword as she did so.
~*~
“She’s not going to bloody well go along with this, beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
Andre studied his wife’s first mate. When he’d first appeared aboard the Phoenix, Limey had denied him access to Sophie’s cabin, nearly coming to blows over Andre’s invasion of her privacy.
However, when he’d divulged his part of the sordid affair involving the pirate Junjie Zheng, Limey had grudgingly stood aside, allowing him carte blanche with her belongings. Andre had to admire the youth’s loyalty to Sophie.
Now he replied. “She doesn’t have a choice. This is a man’s world, even within the pirate realm, so she must bend to my way of thinking. Granted, that bending may have to be forced,” he finished in resignation, knowing he was in for a battle of wills with his headstrong young wife.
Part of him relished the thought of going toe to toe with her. Nothing was more stimulating than an angry woman, especially if the targeted man managed to channel that anger into lovemaking. mon dieu, what a powerful coming together that would be.
“Well, you may be doing that forcing real soon, sir,” Limey drawled in an amused tone.
At his words, Andre spun on his boot heel, squinting into the sun. A raven-haired virago charged toward him up the gangway, hair flying. She shoved crewmembers aside as she shot like an arrow toward him and her first mate.
Andre caught himself taking a step back and stopped. No way was this innocent going to intimidate him, although he didn’t think he remembered seeing someone quite as angry as Sophie. She began thundering at him even before she set foot upon the Phoenix.
“Just what the bloody hell do you think you are doing on my ship, Dubois?”
She’d reached the top of the gangway, storming toward them, red-faced and furious. She was yanking on her still sheathed sword, having trouble loosening it in her haste. Realizing her intent, he drew his pistol once more upon her, and clicked the hammer back, which brought her head up.
Grinding to a halt she sputtered, “Get off my ship, you...you...”
Another cocking hammer interrupted her tirade. Limey stood behind them with his own weapon drawn and ready.
“Que diable? breathed Andre, eyes widening, shocked that the man he’d been talking to moments ago would turn traitor and point a weapon at him. he glanced his wife caught her smug grin while she let loose recalcitrant sword. bestowed brilliant smile upon first mate.
“No one threatens my captain, sir, not even you. I’m sorry.” Limey looked apologetic as he addressed Andre.
The youth and he held gazes for a long, tense moment before Andre nodded and released his pistol’s hammer. Lifting the weapon’s barrel, he tucked the gun into his belt.
Before he could say anything, another gun cocked and a voice behind all of them ordered, “Nor can I allow you to compromise my captain, Señor. Put down your weapon, por favor?"
Andre’s first mate, Pedro de Gallo, held his ornate, Spanish miquelet on the entire group before him. he frowned at limey until younger pirate rocked his head like a spoiled child and stowed pistol.
Smirking with relief, Andre puffed out his chest and swaggered around Sophie and Limey. “Now that the status quo has been reestablished and our famille de pirates are in harmony once more, allow me to explain what is happening, hmm?
With a flourish he pivoted on his heel toward his first mate. “I knew there was a reason I saved your sorry ass back in Seville, mate. You have impeccable timing once again.”
Then he addressed Sophie. “To put it succinctly, circumstances beyond my control dictate that I must beach your ship and take you aboard mine, Captain Dubois. Your crew can stay here in La Nouvelle-Orléans and work, or hire on upon other ships of Le Commandant until such time as it is safe for you to return to the Phoenix.”
He noticed his wife’s horrified expression and welling eyes. Her gaze shot to her first mate for support, face crumpling when she realized he displayed no surprise at the announcement. Stepping close, she glared into his face.
“You already knew. That’s what you two were talking about before I got here. You agree with him.”
Andre took in his wife and first mate’s hurt expressions, not liking the closeness they shared. Feeling at a disadvantage, he insinuated his body between them, placing an arm aro
und her shoulder in a show of possession. Drawing her away from Limey he placated, “It is not the end of the world, ma chérie after all, you will be sailing with the best pirate captain and crew in western world, if not whole world. think of all skills can learn from my most generous tutelage.
By her distrustful look, he knew she suspected he meant more than just sailing. She ducked under his arm and stepped farther away from him. Limey and de Gallo moved down the deck to oversee the installment of her belongings in the captain’s cabin. A fact she had not yet noticed and which Andre knew would lead to yet another round of fireworks.
She pointed a trembling forefinger under his nose. “I spent ten months protecting myself without any help from the likes of you. Whatever folly you have yourself mixed up in has no bearing on me. This foolhardy attempt to keep me under your thumb should be abandoned—”
Patience snapping, he grabbed her by her elbows and hauled her nose to nose, hissing, “Someone wants to get back at me through you, mon amour. Unless you fancy yourself gutted and strung up on execution dock, will remain this ship, obey me.
“I can give you freedom aboard the Princess, or I can lock you in the brig, Madam. I hold all the cards. It would behoove you to accept your fate and treat me with a tad more respect, no?” He held her stormy gaze, as well as his breath, until she looked away, blinking rapidly. As he watched her struggle to control her tears, he felt a curious sense of disappointment. In himself.
“Being yoked to you has brought me nothing but turmoil and heartache,” she whispered. “I have lost my father, my home, my ship, and now my freedom since I met you. Even when you cause trouble, I am the one to pay. With my life, if what you say is true. I have led a much cleaner life as a pirate, yet you are still in command of my very existence. It is not fair.”
The Pirate's Bride Page 10
