“And this adventure, what does it entail?”
“In simple terms, buying and selling of goods, and making sure both ships set sail with full cargoes in either direction.”
Her buccaneer came to mind. “Legal cargo, I presume?”
“But of course, Emerald, I shall be trading in merchandise of great value and good profit margins. I intend to be a merchant of some taste.”
She had to know. “And how did you come by this position of merchant extraordinaire?”
“A long story, and suffice to say, I shall be in partnership with a thoroughly decent fellow, one I owe much to and never repaid in kind as I should have.”
A sudden loud boom of cannon fire from near to the inlet shook the ground beneath their feet, and Cornet trembled from head to toe Ned, to her surprise, was quick to sooth the animal with kindly strokes to neck. This was the Ned of their younger years, the loving and caring Ned.
“Well, I do declare a ship of his majesty’s fleet has just entered the creek, for that was a naval twenty-four-pounder,” he said, reeling his horse in order to calm its agitated state.
How vain of her to momentarily hope it her captain returned, but perhaps he had and now a battle would ensue between his ship and a naval vessel. She had not been out of the house in days, nor ventured to the creek since his leaving. But why, why would a naval ship enter the creek, if not in pursuit of a buccaneer? Her heart dived, for she did not feel well enough to go and see for herself. “How can you possibly identify that awful noise as a naval cannon, and why would a naval craft enter the creek?”
Ned chuckled, seeming quite amused at happenings within the creek. “I know a Royal Navy cannon fired when I hear one, the clarity of its trajectory path whistles a particular tune to the experienced ear.”
“Surely, one cannon must sound much like another.”
“Indeed, but few cannon are kept as pristine as those aboard one of his majesty’s vessels.” He glanced her way then brought his horse closer. “You look somewhat pale, Emerald. Are you feeling unwell?”
“A little poorly. Bouts of chill and feverish sweats, and on occasion have felt dreadfully tired. Today is the first time of my stepping out of the house in two weeks. Can you believe that, when I cannot abide to miss a walk each day.”
“Inside with you, then, and take a rest,” he said, a glance toward the stable yard. “Tomorrow we have a guest coming for dinner, and I assume you will want to attend.”
“A guest? Who?”
“Oh, just an old friend I happened upon while in London. We owe him, owe him much in affording this unworthy brother of yours a partnership in his new business venture.”
As Ned turned and led his now calm steed to the stables, she walked to the main entrance and could not think of a worse situation than that of seated at a dining table with men talking of business and enterprise. Nevertheless, she must show willing. For Ned seemed happier than seen in a long while.
With the main door open she paused on the threshold, a quick glance toward the meadows. “Together Tobias, forever,” slipped her lips.
Her eyes drifted to the woodland edge, and it occurred to her how quiet it was down at the creek? No battle, just bird song, and perhaps a naval ship lying in wait for a buccaneer, her buccaneer, for she would always think of him as hers. She prayed him safe out of harms way.
She closed the door; still reeling at news the house and estate now hers. What kind of man would honour another’s debts, and in so doing beget a betrothed whom he has never seen? And then, the house and estate acquired on payment of Ned’s debts bestowed upon the man’s betrothed. A desperate man, surely? Oh Lord, please, not another obscene creature such as Moorby, for Ned had lied before, and might be duping her again.
Chapter Six
~
To have the old Ned restored, the caring brother of her childhood pleased her no end, but her own plight continued to weigh heavy and lessened what should otherwise be a time for celebration. Nonetheless, after two weeks of prolonged debilitating stuffiness of head, she really felt much better upon waking on such a fine and sunny morning. Able to breathe deeply, the scent from roses beneath her window was utterly delightful to inhale.
It was as though Ned’s return had set her free from unseen shackles, despite little knowledge of her intended. It was Ned’s enthusiasm for the man’s honourable gesture of gifting Penhavean Hall Estate to her, which had to be taken into account. So too, she had been assured she would not be disappointed by the other man’s handsome appearance, though Ned claimed he had yet to meet Lord Welldon in person. So, Lord Welldon remained as much a mystery to Ned as he was to her.
Still abed at eleven of the clock, the long arduous journey from London to Cornwall had quite taken its toll on her brother. With not a peep from his bedchamber, it seemed the best possible moment to venture to the creek. Curiosity had eaten her up over dinner the previous evening, for Ned’s teasing that he had known all along a naval ship would be at anchor in the creek that night a little disconcerting. Also, that he knew its captain and officers. In fact, had been invited to dine with them at Greenwich a week prior. Plus the cannon fired, apparently that of a courtesy shot to alert him to its presence: all rather a planned event.
But what of her buccaneer . . . what if he returned that very night and came sailing into the creek unaware a naval vessel already moored within? How big was this naval vessel, how many cannon did it have? Inquisitiveness had a mighty big pull on her, and in haste she snatched up a wide-brimmed hat to shade her face from fierce sun, and fled the house.
She would have run to the bridge, sped down the steps and rushed along the creek’s beach if her buccaneer’s ship moored there. Instead she strolled the distance hat upon head its ribbons trailing behind, and on occasion paused to pick and delight in the sweetness of wild strawberries.
As soon as her silk slipper-clad feet touched sand she sensed a presence. She turned heart in mouth to see a shadowy form lurking beneath the nearest arch of the bridge. He waded toward her barefoot wearing breeches that of naval attire and crisp white shirt. Her heart jolted, somersaulted and many questions revolved in her head and she felt quite dizzy.
“Well Lady Emerald, we meet again,”
“Indeed we do, Captain . . . but forgive me, I cannot recall your name.”
A smile flickered on his face, blue-grey eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hmm. On consideration of our previous encounters and your inference I would no doubt lie if my name was asked after, you are unlikely to believe a name proffered.”
“I might, if I feel the name suits you.”
He chuckled, a sweeping bow performed with grace, then distance between them bridged in one stride. “Captain Thorne at your service,” he said, arm quick about her waist, her body pressed to his. “Your buccaneer returned, and a kiss due methinks in return for my coming to your aid.”
Before she could utter protest, declare her self again betrothed, his mouth fell on hers and nothing else mattered. Her hat toppled from her head and she had her buccaneer if but for a moment in time, his arms about her pure tease as happened before. His kiss was potent in deliverance, and sense of urgency in tongue to plunder forced her to give sway to his demand to take possession of her in the only way open to him. Although breath quite stolen from her, she savoured the salty tang left behind. Sense of great disappointment befell her, for the last thing she wanted was to be set free from his ardent clutches, but nonetheless stepped back a pace.
“I fear if you have come to help me, though I cannot think how, then you are too late.”
“How so?” His former jolly tease in voice turned to that of concern “What has happened, Emerald? Tell me.”
“It is a long story, and I’m not sure where to begin, except to say I am now betrothed to another lord . . . A Lord Welldon.”
He scooped up her hat and her hand caught up in his felt so perfect, his voice as before caring and soothing. “Let us walk awhile, for as your astonished face declared m
oments past, you knew your buccaneer to be nothing of the kind.”
“So Captain Thorne, you are a man of deceptive intention.”
“It was mere ploy, dear lady, to enable fraternisation in foreign ports with renowned reputation for harbouring of privateer craft.” He chuckled, a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Those very privateers now my prey, and two quite recent sunk off the Scilly Isles.”
“Goodness, you mean . . .”
“Not the sort of thing for a tender young lady’s ears. Now, tell me about this Lord Welldon.”
“I know nothing about him, and there is no way out of the marriage. Ned did try. He went to London to secure the services of a lawyer, but there was no time to serve a summons against the Earl of Moorby before the horrid beast sold Ned’s debt to this Lord Welldon.”
“Ah, I see, a summons with regards trading property and a slave?”
“Well yes, and I the slave. Yet, promptly upon acquisition of Penhavean Estate his lordship gifted it to me as a wedding present, when most men seek a betrothed with substantial dowry. Naturally I assumed him akin to Moorby. A thoroughly unpleasant man in appearance and desperate to acquire a wife, yet he is, supposedly, quite young and handsome with it.”
“Is that not perhaps a good thing? For I, handsome enough according to some young ladies met along life’s path, would be more than pleased to have you his wife.”
“Would you . . . would you be happy with me as your wife?”
He chuckled, drew her hand to his lips. “Have I not said as much, though as a mere captain, I fear a lord is by far a better choice for a lady of rank’s hand in marriage.”
“But I know nothing of him, and although I know nothing about you I feel safe in your arms. I trust you, and this may sound a little forward, but I think I am a little in love with you, and have been since our first meeting.”
His arm went about her waist and she prayed he might kiss her again. “You will no doubt come to love this man, in no time at all,” he said, air of amusement dancing in his eyes as they stopped walking, eyes locked. “What better than a man of substantial means could a woman wish for in a husband? Would you truly want to be married to such as I, a mere captain of the high seas?”
“Yes, I would if I thought you to be in love with me. But of course, that is nothing but a dream, for my fate is that of becoming Lady Welldon.”
“And, if I declared love for you, what then? Would you abandon Penhavean, sail away with me and come and live in my house?”
“You have a house?”
“I do, in Dartmouth, near the sea, though of late have seen little of the place.”
“Alas, I have no choice but to stay, my fate sealed on payment of Ned’s debts. Which reminds me, you once said Ned was no friend of yours, yet you dined with him at Greenwich, I presume.”
“That is so, and with old scores settled our once friendship lost, now regained.”
“I am glad for you and Ned, but jealous too.”
“Would that you come lie with me, Emerald, as happened before,” he said, fingers feathering her cheek. “Believe it, jealous blood would no longer course through your veins.”
Drawn close against him, his breath upon her face, if only his mouth upon hers she would be in raptures. “I wish it possible, and would willingly come to you if not already betrothed.”
“Then, suffer my sweet Emerald, suffer pangs of jealousy throughout dinner this evening.” Was it enjoyment at her discomfiture that danced in his eyes? Flicker of smile, too. “Lord Welldon’s a lucky man, a lucky man indeed.”
With that he turned and strode away toward the bend in the creek, and although awful sense of loss washed over her she had no choice but to turn about and walk in the opposite direction. What torture it would be to have him a guest for dinner, she hanging on his every word and longing for his touch and he cold in rebuff.
~
Dinner turned out as predicted. Captain Thorne arrived looking extreme smart and handsome in full naval uniform. His demeanour was that of polite guest and for the most part conversation had erred military talk throughout, and precious little said of interest to a lady. The two now ensconced in the library for an hour at least, and her as befitting mere woman left to her own devices and amusements.
Peeved best described her agitation at Captain Thorne’s coolness toward her, and little surprise she had thrice pricked her thumb with a fine embroidery needle. Although still tender she continued thrusting needle through linen and drawing silk skein over and needling under again. What were the men discussing, and why hushed voices?
About to cast her embroidery aside and take a late evening stroll the doors of the library swung wide and the men deigned to show face. “Emerald, I fear we have much neglected you this evening.” Ned strode forth and prompt in usual stance of elbow to fireplace mantel, he gestured for their guest to take a seat, which Captain Thorne did, directly opposite to her. “This matter of my sister’s betrothal . . .”
“Ned,” she snapped, in best scolding tone. “I hardly think Captain Thorne has any interest in hearing about such things.” She could hardly bear the torture of having the man she desired above all others sitting across from her, his eyes as teasing as ever yet something else too: what exactly she could not pin to him, and she would not have Ned discuss private matters with Captain Thorne. “It’s a family matter.”
Seeming amused by something perhaps said before their condescending to pay her court, Captain Thorne with a chuckle, declared, “On the contrary, I have a vested monetary interest in this betrothal.”
Aghast at his outburst, and needle poised below embroidery ready for upward thrust she could not comprehend his statement. “How, how can you possibly have any interest . . .” Oh no, this could not be. “Did you say monetary interest?”
Ned Laughed. “Enough tease, dear boy. Tell her, damn you, or I will.”
Captain Thorne shifted forward in his chair, elbows to knees in relaxed manner, and no words were needed. She inadvertently stabbed through the cloth directly into her thumb, and would have given him a piece of her mind if not for blooded flesh thrust to mouth.
“Ouch,” exclaimed Ned, on her behalf, eyes just as rapidly averted to her once buccaneer. “Get it over and done with, Richard.” With that Ned made to-ward the library. “The sooner the better, dear chap.” The doors of the library then closed behind him.
Her buccaneer seemed far away to her now, replaced by this ice-cold Captain Thorne sitting opposite. She dreaded his opening of mouth, but whatever his involvement she would hear him out. For he had begged three weeks grace in order to help her escape Moorby’s clutches, and quite obviously sailed away in haste on admiralty business of which took longer than anticipated. Calendar dates alone were proof of seven weeks since he had set sail. “If you wouldn’t mind, please do as Ned suggested, before I die in weariness of waiting your explanation.”
“Lady Penhavean, please accept my sincere apology for deception a day past.”
“A day past, deception a day past? But Captain, you traded in lies, and led me to believe you were a buccaneer when first we met.”
He laughed rose to his feet and seated himself beside her on the chaise. “Emerald,” he said, cat-ching up her hand, the pricked thumb purposefully levelled to his lips, and kiss applied. “Would you be my wife, if it was possible?”
“Need you ask?” her reply, heart aching. Did he love her as she loved him?
“I ask because it is possible, but there are things that might prevent it. Penhavean Estate is yours, and I a residence in Dartmouth. As my wife you can either reside here or at my residence, for I am what I am, a captain of the high seas. There will be times when I may not return home for weeks, perhaps months of absence, and when I do return it will be to Portsmouth. From there it is up to I where I go in times ashore. What shall it be, Emerald? Marry me, and come with me to Dartmouth or stay here and I come to you when time affords.”
Confusion befell her. “How can I marry you when betrothe
d to Lord Welldon? Or have you somehow purchased me as a separate item?”
He laughed heartily, his arm about her as though they were again friends. Drawn close against his body all sense of anger and outrage melted away. “Lord Welldon and I are one and the same, and yes, I purchased your freedom. Hence you are free to make your own choice as to whom you choose to marry.”
His fingers under her chin forced her to look up at him, his eyes searching hers for signs of affection, love, or just curiosity? How could she be sure of anything with a man who had intentionally deceived her time and time again?
“What then shall be your pleasure, Emerald?”
Words eluded her, yet her body screamed for his touch. All the love for him that had blossomed from several brief moments of intimacy beside the creek began tearing at her heartstrings. His eyes pleading a response sent a pleasurable thrill down her spine. She could give her heart, her soul to this man, and still never really know him. One minute a buccaneer, the next a naval captain, and now Lord Welldon. Who was he really? But what did it matter if she loved him and he loved her?
He let fall his grip on her, eased away and rose to his feet. He then bowed, his voice cold, harsh, bitter in tone. “I take my leave Emerald, my heart yours and you’ve seen fit to throw it back in my face.”
His strides from the room expanded the distance between them. She could imagine him scooping up his hat in the hall, even heard his taking leave through the front door, yet her feet would not move, her mind numbed.
Ned hastened from the library, expression of astonishment. “Well, what happened? Why has he left in such a damnable hurry?”
“I . . . I lost my tongue.” She leapt to her feet, the room and hall a blur as she took flight. She snatched the front door open, shouted, “Wait, wait.” He turned, and knew, knew her answer before she reached him. His arms opened and she threw herself at him. “I love you, I love you.”
Her Favoured Captain Page 5
