A Pirate's Love

by Johanna Lindsey

  Bettina smiled despite herself, for that was one battle she had won without even trying. She remembered the night after Tristan had shaved his beard, and the angry scowl on his face when he saw the bright red marks his stubble left on her face. The red marks disappeared after a short time, and they didn't hurt, but Tristan didn't know this. He stormed at her for making him shave his beard in the first place, mumbling that now he would have to continue to do so. It was either that or abstain from making love to her until his beard was soft again.

  Now he shaved late in the day, whenever he was of a mind to take her, which gave Bettina warning well in advance. And Tristan had shaved before dinner this day.

  "Please, Maddy, you have to stay with me tonight," Bettina pleaded, going back to the subject at hand.

  "Even if Tristan allows it tonight, what of tomor­row?"

  "I will think of something else tomorrow. It is this night that I fear," Bettina replied. "Go now, and tell Tristan that I am ill. Tell him I want you to stay with me. But go before he comes to find me."

  "Very well," Madeleine sighed. "I will try. You had better get into bed while I am gone."

  Madeleine closed the door and took a deep breath before she started down the dimly lit corridor. She just couldn't understand why Bettina hated Tristan so much. She seemed to find a distinct pleasure in hating him— she came to life whenever they argued, as if she thrived on their battles.

  Madeleine would help Bettina if she could, but she doubted whether she would succeed. Bettina had become an obsession with the young captain, and the more she resisted him, the more he wanted her.

  She descended the stairs and slowly approached the table where the men were drinking. A couple of Tris­tan's men were downing large tankards of rum, and the man Jake Brown, whom she had met earlier, was seated with Captain O'Casey.

  "Where is Bettina?" Tristan asked when he saw Madeleine standing beside his chair.

  "She is in bed—she does not feel well," Madeleine said, wiping her hands on her skirt.

  "What's the matter with her?" Tristan inquired, rais­ing an eyebrow.

  "I think it is perhaps something she has eaten, Capitaine. But I insist you let me stay with her this night. She needs me."

  "She does, eh? Well, that won't be necessary," Tris­tan replied. He left his chair and started for the stairs.

  "But, Capitaine—"

  "Sit down, madamel" Jules cut her off sharply. "Your lady is Tristan's responsibility. If she needs look­ing after he can do it. Although I don't think that's what she needs."

  "You keep insinuating that Bettina needs a beating," Madeleine said angrily. "I suppose you would like to be the one to inflict it!"

  "Now, now, settle down," Jules said, surprised at Madeleine's sudden outburst. "I wouldn't touch your lady. Tristan would have my head if I did. It is just that he is too soft with her. He's let her have her way too much, and now she thinks she can get away with anything."

  "You forget that Tristan still has to rape her," Made­leine whispered so no one else would hear.

  "Exactly. That's why I say she needs a good beating."

  Tristan opened the door to his room, but when he found it empty, he guessed Bettina's game. He crossed to the room next to his and found it empty also; then he went to the last door and opened it slowly. She was curled up under the covers on the far side of the bed, with her head resting on one hand. But she sat up when she heard him, her hair falling gloriously about her shoulders.

  "This is not your room, little one," he said quietly. He closed the door and leaned against it.

  "Then I have no room," she returned icily. "Would you prefer me to sleep outside?"

  "No, I prefer you to sleep with me," he replied with a slow curling of his lips.

  "Well, that, Tristan, I will not do!" Bettina snapped, her green eyes dark with fury.

  "Your servant tells me you don't feel well," said Tristan. "You seem rather spirited to be ill." His grin widened, and he crossed to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "Are you ill, Bettina?"

  "Yes!" she hissed angrily. "But I will not discuss my complaint with you."

  "I think perhaps you're lying to me. But on the slight chance that you're not, I will get you some sour milk. It should relieve your stomach of its contents in no time at all."

  "Thank you, but no," she returned, her chin tilted defiantly. "I would prefer to sleep if you don't mind— undisturbed."

  "But I insist that you have a cure, Bettina."

  "You can save your insisting for your crew," she said, edging to the opposite side of the bed. "I told you before, Tristan, that I will not take orders from you. Now where is Maddy? I want her to stay with me to­night."

  "She is downstairs, but she won't be staying with you this night. Or any other night, for that matter. It would be rather uncomfortable to fit the three of us in my bed," Tristan chuckled.

  "I am staying here!"

  "You should have learned by now that it is pointless to argue with me. Now, will you come peaceably, or do I carry you to my room?"

  "You must know better than to ask that question. I will never go peaceably to your bed! Never!" she cried. She tried to scramble from the covers.

  But Tristan reached out, grabbed a handful of her flowing white-blond hair, and pulled her back across the bed. With a quick sweep of his arms, he picked her up and carried her swiftly back to his room. He dropped her on his bed, then went back to close the door. When he turned around, he saw Bettina jump from the bed, looking frantically about the room for a place to hide.

  For a moment, she seemed like a frightened little rabbit, and Tristan was tempted to forget his need for her this night. But the murderous glint in her eyes struck him like a slap in the face and renewed his de­termination to have her.

  "There is no escape, Bettina," he said, and began to remove his clothing.

  She ran to the window, then looked back at him, her face a mask of fury. "I will jump!"

  "No, you won't. You have everything to live for, in­cluding taking your revenge against me." He sighed, shaking his head. "Why do you fight me so, Bettina?"

  "Because of your deceit, your lies, and because you continue to rape me!"

  "You have just lied to me about being ill, yet I don't seek revenge against you."

  "No? Then why are you keeping me here, Tristan?" she asked.

  "Certainly not for revenge," he replied. "If I were to offer you marriage—what, then?"

  "I would not marry you for all the riches in the world!" she said heatedly, then added in a curiously level voice, "But you do not offer marriage, Tristan."

  "No, I don't. But I don't beat you, Bettina, and I give you anything you need. I ask only that you let me make love to you. De Lambert would not treat you better than I." His voice held a surprising note of ten­derness.

  "Perhaps not. But at least he will not have to rape me," she taunted.

  Tristan's eyes narrowed, and he scowled darkly. "He doesn't have you yet, Bettina."

  Pale moonlight touched the rug by the window and filled the room with a gray light when Tristan blew out the candles. It was a long time before he finally went to sleep. Bettina was grateful that he slept on his back, for the sound of his snoring covered up her move­ments about the room. She eased herself from the bed without disturbing him, and quickly donned her dark violet dress, keeping her eyes on Tristan all the while.

  I told you I would run away if you raped me again, Bettina thought. But you did not believe me. No, you had to force your lust on me again. Well, you will awake in the morning and I will be gone. And you will never find me, Tristan.

  Bettina closed the door without a sound and cautious­ly made her way downstairs. She had assumed she would have to step over the sleeping bodies of the crew in the big dining hall, but there was no one about. She supposed they were either in the village or sleeping on the ship.

  Bettina set out across the lawn, with only single-minded determination and outrage spurring her on. She was surprised by
the brightness of the moonlight. But sudden apprehension came over her when she saw the black mass of trees before her, knowing that was the direction she must take.

  The moon was slightly behind her, making it easy for her to find the wide path leading into the forest, but once she was inside, only a few pale rays of moonlight lit the ground with speckled patches of gray. It was barely enough light for her to see the corral and the seven horses within.

  Bettina had to stop and think. She had to have some kind of plan. She glanced back through the trees and could see the large house quite clearly. She could see no light from any of the windows, and all was quiet.

  Tristan was obviously still sleeping soundly, and he probably would until morning, but she needed a lot of time to put enough distance between them. He would take one of the horses to come after her, and would catch her quickly if she were on foot. So she must take one of the horses for herself.

  Bettina braided her hair quickly in two long plaits and tied them into a knot at the back of her neck. Then she crossed to the corral fence and looked for a gate. The fence was made of long wooden planks nailed to wooden posts, and formed a large, clumsy circle, but she could see no gate. She tried lifting the top plank, but it wouldn't budge. Taking a deep breath, Bettina moved to the next pair of planks, and this time the top one moved. It was quite heavy, and she had to use both her arms to lift the board from its supporting brackets and lower it to the ground.

  One of the horses neighed, and then another, and Bettina gasped. The sound seemed to her like a blast of trumpets in the still night. She glanced about nervously, trying to see into the black shadows of the forest; then she looked back toward the house, but there was still no sign of life there. She was aware of other sounds now: leaves rustling, mosquitoes buzzing, crickets singing, and other sounds she couldn't identify.

  Take courage, Bettina. Tristan will continue to sleep —he must, she thought. She stepped over the lower plank and into the corral.

  The white stallion was a soft gray in the darkness, and Bettina edged very slowly toward him. He shied away from her, and all the horses moved dangerously close to the opening in the fence. She feared for a mo­ment that they would all escape, but then they settled down again.

  This was not going to be easy, Bettina thought, al­most ready to give up. She had no saddle, no bridle, not even a rope. She would have to catch the horse by his mane, then pull herself up and hope she could stay on his back. Luckily, he wasn't such a big animal, but how was she going to catch him if he kept shying away from her?

  She tried again, moving more slowly this time, beck­oning to him sweetly. She reached her hand out slowly and gently touched the stallion's neck, talking to him all the while. Then she moved closer and rubbed his velvety nose, letting him smell her.

  Bettina continued to talk to him for a while as she stroked his neck, hoping that he would relax and not rear up when she tried to mount him. She coaxed him the few feet to the opening in the fence. The other horses shied away as she passed them, and she prayed her stallion wouldn't move away when she lowered the remaining plank to the ground. But he stayed behind her, and even remained perfectly still when she took hold of his mane. With a jump, she hoisted herself up, lifted one leg over his back, and sat up straight.

  Bettina had already decided against closing the fence, hoping that the other horses would escape during the night. Then Tristan would have no horse to follow her with.

  With a feeling of accomplishment, Bettina gathered her skirt up and tucked it under her legs, then urged the stallion forward. She nearly fell when he took his first step, and she grabbed his mane quickly, almost deciding again to escape on foot instead. But the horse continued to walk slowly down the path, and she saw that it was not too difficult to stay on his back.

  Looking back, Bettina saw the rest of the horses leaving the corral and following behind her. She was sure now that her escape was possible, and thought where she should go next. The obvious place would be the opposite side of the island, but Tristan would also think of this. So that left her with two choices—either the left or the right side of the island.

  But first she had to locate the village. There was no point in trying to find help there, and besides, the village would probably be the first place Tristan would look. But it could take a week or even longer before she could hail a passing ship, and she needed to be far away from anyone who might see her and inform Tristan of her whereabouts.

  The path turned sharply to the left, but it was still wide enough to allow moonlight to break through open­ings in the trees. Bettina looked back. She could no longer see the house or the corral, only thick black darkness threatening her on all sides. The other horses no longer trailed after her, but had wandered off into the forest.

  Bettina felt as if she were the only person on the entire island. She fought down panic, reminding herself why she was escaping. Then she realized that she was leaving Madeleine behind.

  Bettina immediately tried to turn the horse around, but then changed her mind and let the stallion continue forward along the path. She couldn't take Madeleine with her. Her only possible chance for success was to remain perfectly alone in this venture. Madeleine wouldn't have the courage to escape. She was terrified of horses, for one thing. She would try to dissuade Bettina from leaving and might even tell Tristan of her plans.

  Bettina decided to get safely away and tell her tale to the Comte de Lambert. Then he would come and rescue Madeleine, and Bettina would have her revenge at the same time. Madeleine would be safe on this island for a while. Despite Tristan's anger, he wouldn't punish Madeleine.

  The fifteen or twenty minutes that the horse plodded along the path seemed like hours. Bettina strained her eyes to see what lay ahead, but the forest was too dense. Then the path turned slightly to the right. There was a large clearing, bathed in silver moonlight, and Bettina could see a dozen thatched huts crowded closely to­gether.

  She quickly turned the horse around and urged him into a slow canter, straight into the dark gloom of the forest.

  Bettina had her direction now: the right side of the island. There was no longer a path to follow, and the trees were so dense in this part of the forest that the stallion was forced to walk. Bettina hoped the horse had better eyes than she did, for she could barely see two feet in front of her.

  The horse walked around trees and thick shrubs, never keeping to a straight line, but Bettina kept him headed slightly to the left. This would take her to the right side of the island, but farther away from Tristan.

  An hour passed and then several more. Bettina had no idea how much time she had before dawn, but she knew she had to gain more distance than this before

  Tristan awoke. She hoped he would sleep late. No one would disturb him, and anyone who was up and about would assume that she was in Tristan's room.

  Two more hours passed, and Bettina came upon a thick stand of banana trees that were too dense for her to pass through. The moon was on the other side of the island now, but Bettina could see the sky here, and it was definitely becoming lighter. She urged the stallion into a canter to circle around the banana trees. But then she had to slow down again when she entered forest land again.

  She hoped that Tristan wouldn't be able to travel any faster than she. He might travel along the shoreline, but there he would have no idea where to stop and search for her. When she reached the shore, she would hide in the forest and wait for a passing ship. Tristan would never find her, no matter how long he searched.

  She could distinguish color now. Dark reds and yel­lows—flowers that she could smell before but couldn't see. Bettina looked up and saw patches of soft blue sky, tinted with pink and orange now. Birds began to awaken, and soon the forest was alive with their sweet songs. It was going to be a beautiful day.

  Then, unexpectedly, a small brown animal ran in front of the stallion. He reared up, sending Bettina tumbling to the ground and knocking the wind out of her. When she finally sat up, the horse was gone.


  Bettina felt close to tears. She stood up and brushed the leaves and twigs from her dress. She was at a loss for direction until she sighted the horned mountain through an opening in the trees. She continued toward the beach, and soon found that she could make better time on foot, now that she could see where she was going.

  After an hour of half-running, half-walking, Bettina could hear surf in the near distance. She ran as fast as she could, dodging trees and low bushes. And then the sun blinded her as she broke out of the forest. She fell to her knees in the cold sand.

  Bettina lowered her head and after a few moments was able to still her heavy breathing. When she looked up again, she couldn't believe what she saw. To the left of the rising sun was a ship, only a mile or so offshore.

  Without a second thought, Bettina jumped to her feet and started waving her arms frantically. She called out, but then thought better of this, for they couldn't hear her, anyway. The ship moved across the sun and then sailed toward another point on the island.

  Bettina continued to wave, beginning to fear that no one on the ship would see her. Then the vessel turned about and started coming toward her. Bettina sank down in the sand and started crying.

  She watched impatiently as a small boat was lowered. Scanning the glittering white beach, Bettina feared that Tristan might appear before the boat had been rowed ashore. But after fifteen agonizingly slow minutes, Bet­tina was safely in the care of Captain William Rawlin-sen and on her way to his ship.

  I

  'D take you ashore myself, Mademoiselle Verlaine, but picking you up and dropping you here has put me slightly off my schedule," Captain Rawlinsen said. "And it's good business to keep on schedule."

  "It is not necessary, Capitalne. You have been more than kind already. I am sure I will have no trouble finding the Comte de Lambert's plantation."