Page 2 of A Pirate's Love

  She stood out oddly among the girls at school, who teased her for her different appearance. At five feet, six inches, she towered over the petite French girls. And instead of having full breasts and soft, round curves, she was very slim. Her breasts were nicely shaped and not too small, so she didn't find much fault there. It was her hips that she cursed. They were slim—too slim, in fact—and her long legs didn't help matters. Her tiny waist added a slight curve to her hips, but it annoyed her that she had to pad her skirts in that area. She liked to hear her mama call her beautiful, even though she knew it wasn't true. It was only through Mama's eyes that she was beautiful, because Mama loved her. She would miss Mama so.

  Her mother's revelation hadn't really disturbed Bettina. In a way, it seemed that a great burden had been lifted from her. She was a—she had heard the servants use the word and knew what it meant—she was a bastard. But what did it matter? No one knew about it except her mother. Bettina wished that Ryan had come back for her mother. And now she, too, wondered what had happened to him. Could he have been shipwrecked, or killed? Or was he still roaming the seas in search of a fortune to bring back to Mama? She liked the last explanation best. He could still come back for Mama after all these years, and they could come and live on Saint Martin with her.

  "Oh, Bettina, you dream too much," she whispered aloud. "I must face reality. I am going to go to a stranger and live with him and be his dutiful wife. Well, maybe not so dutiful." She laughed. "But I will be his wife and I—I don't even know what he looks like! He could be fat and short, or old. I must remember to ask Mama what he looks like. Maybe he will be young and handsome. Yes, and he did want me. I must remember that."

  She yawned, then looked once more at her clear blue eyes in the mirror, eyes as dark as sapphires.

  "Mama must have been teasing me. How can any­one's eyes change color?"

  Bettina stood up and walked to the large four-poster bed with its frilly pink-and-white canopy. She crawled under the covers and tossed her long, unbound hair over the side of the bed, where it flowed to the floor. With so many things going through her mind, it was a long time before she finally went to sleep.

  Chapter

  WAKE up. Wake up, Bettina." Bettina opened her eyes quickly at the sound of her mother's voice, but then remembered regretfully what day this was. Today she would leave her home forever.

  "I told those silly maids to wake you early this morning," Jossel continued. "But I should have known they wouldn't pay attention to me. This whole house has been in such confusion this last month, preparing for your journey. It is a wonder anything gets done. The servants are so excited you would think they were going with you. And oh, how they envy Madeleine. I am going to miss that bossy old woman. She has been more Eke a mother to me than my own, but you need her now more than I do." She paused and looked at her daugh­ter, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Oh, Bettina, this month has gone by too quickly. You are finally leaving me to start a life of your own."

  "But you said it will not be forever, Mama," Bettina replied, edging her long, slender legs over the side of the bed.

  "Yes, but that does not help the fact that you are leaving today."

  "Maddy and I still have to travel to Saint-Malo, where the ship is, and you and Papa will come with us that far. You knew this day would come, Mama."

  "Oh, why did Andree have to choose a man who lives across the sea?" Jossel asked, wringing her hands. Then she shook her head in resignation. "Well, it is done. Now you must prepare, for we leave in two hours' time. Oh, where are those maids?"

  Bettina laughed. "They are probably in the kitchen discussing my journey. They seem to think Saint Martin is going to be an exciting place to live. But I can dress myself, anyway. You forget I did without servants all those years at school."

  The maids finally came, and after receiving a tongue-lashing from Jossel, they rushed about the large bed­room, laying out the clothes that Bettina would wear for the journey to Saint-Malo. One of the maids left the room to get water for Bettina's bath, and for the next two hours everybody scurried about, seeing to the last details.

  Soon, Bettina and Madeleine were ready to go, wear­ing comfortably warm traveling clothes, for it was October and the weather was quite chilly this early morning. Mama joined them at the entrance, and, sur­prisingly, it was Andree who was the last to arrive.

  The large coach that Andree had purchased especially for the journey to Saint-Malo was impressive indeed. It was drawn by six coal-black horses and was large enough to carry all the trunks on top, including the small chest that contained Bettina's dowry in gold.

  Bettina leaned back on the velvet seat, with her mother beside her, and closed her eyes. The past month had been hectic, and she and most of the household had worked day and night on her trousseau. Her wed­ding dress had taken the longest time to make, of course, but it was a beautiful garment, a masterpiece, and all who had worked on it were proud of the re­sults.

  The dress was creamy white satin, the same color as Bettina's hair, covered with handmade lace, except for the tight-fitting sleeves. Flowing lace sleeves fell away from the shimmering satin ones. It was a beautiful gown, caught tight about the waist, with a square neck­line and flowing skirt, the lace divided in the front of the skirt to reveal the satin beneath. Bettina would wear white satin slippers with the dress, and the white pearls Andree" had given her on her nineteenth birthday. Her veil, yards of white lace, had been worn by her mother on her own wedding day.

  Madeleine had personally supervised the packing of the wedding dress in a separate trunk so it would not wrinkle too badly. She felt she was reliving the past, for twenty-two years before she'd gone through the same preparations for Jossel's marriage.

  The small three-masted vessel lay at anchor for many days, waiting for the passengers who would sail to Saint Martin. Jacques Marivaux, captain of the Wind-song, stood on the foredeck, a frown on his bronzed, weather-beaten face as he gazed out into the harbor. He was uneasy.

  The Comte de Lambert had commissioned Jacques to go to France, pick up his intended bride and her ser­vant, and take them back to Saint Martin. When de Lambert had first approached him, Jacques had been ready to resign from the comte's service rather than transport women. But de Lambert had made too tempting an offer.

  This young woman must mean a great deal to the comte. But still, there were numerous difficulties in­volved. Jacques would have to isolate the women from his rough, randy crew. Also, women were supposed to be bad luck on board ship, and the superstitious would blame every mishap on them. The women them­selves would expect to be pampered, with fine food and comfortable quarters. Jacques knew this was going to be the worst voyage of his twenty years at sea.

  Luckily, they had been at Saint-Malo for a week, and his crew had been let loose on the town since they first docked. They should have had their fill of women to last them awhile. But during the last month at sea he would have to worry about mutiny.

  Then Jacques saw a large carriage turn off a side street and rumble onto the dock. That must be the bride and her family, he thought apprehensively, seeing the many trunks piled on top. He would have to round up his crew tonight and set sail tomorrow, if the wind permitted. Mon Dieu! Why had he taken this commis­sion?

  Bettina looked out the small carriage window and saw the many ships at anchor in the harbor. There were so many vessels, all of different sizes, that she wondered which one could be the Windsong. Andree* had said it was a small three-masted vessel, but there were many that fit that description. She would have to learn more about ships, since the comte owned many vessels, the Windsong only one of them.

  The carriage pulled to a halt, and Andree got out and asked a passing sailor where the Windsong was anchored. As it turned out, they were right in front of her. Andree" went up the gangplank and spoke with a big man standing on deck. After a few minutes, he came back and entered the carriage again.

  "The capitaine has to get his crew together, so we will take lodgings
for this night. The trunks will be unloaded and put aboard now, so there will be a short delay here."

  Andree was being generous, for usually he didn't waste his time explaining anything to his family.

  The inn where they took lodgings was fairly decent. Bettina had a small room to herself, and she enjoyed her last bath that night. Jossel had told her that, un­fortunately, she would not be able to bathe properly for the duration of the voyage. So Bettina soaked in fragrant suds for two hours.

  The following morning, before the sun had risen above the horizon, the captain of the Windsong called on Bettina personally. Andre quickly introduced Cap­tain Jacques Marivaux to his daughter, and they hur­riedly left for the ship.

  Bettina cried, as she'd known she would, and so did Madeleine and Jossel when they said good-bye to each other. Bettina also kissed Andree lightly on the cheek, though he seemed embarrassed. But he was, after all, the only father she had ever known, and she couldn't help loving him, despite his strictness. It would have been nice, though, if Andree could have said he loved her, just this once.

  So she said good-bye to Andree Verlaine, a small man who would never again cause her heartache. But she couldn't bear to leave her mother, and it took an impatient Captain Marivaux to separate them. He hur­ried them, for the ship had to clear the harbor in order to catch the morning breeze that would take her out to sea.

  With a last tearful glance at her mother and her be­loved France, Bettina turned and walked carefully up the gangplank. All eyes on board the ship were drawn to her. There had been no time this morning to bind her hair up, so she had just tied it back with ribbons. The snowy blond tresses streaming down her back were a sight to behold as the sun caught and lit her hair to blinding brilliance.

  It was a moment of anxiety for Captain Marivaux as his crew stared hypnotized at Bettina. He had not expected Comte de Lambert's intended bride to be such a beauty. Mon Dieu, but the comte was an extremely lucky man.

  Captain Marivaux barked orders left and right, and reluctantly the crew dispersed. However, many still ogled the women, so the captain quickly escorted them to his cabin and left them there. He was giving up his cabin for the remainder of the voyage because it was the largest on the ship and Comte de Lambert had insisted his bride be made comfortable. The arrange­ment was hardly satisfactory, but it would have to do.

  Besides the women, he was also transporting a for­tune in gold that was Mademoiselle Verlaine's dowry. Why Monsieur Verlaine thought he needed to send so much gold was beyond Jacques. The beautiful made­moiselle was all the prize any man could want. She did not need a fortune to go with her.

  The gold that Jacques Marivaux was carrying might make any man turn pirate. The mademoiselle alone was temptation enough. But the captain had given his word, and it was a matter of honor. He would see the made­moiselle safely to Comte de Lambert or die trying.

  Chapter

  AFTER a week at sea, Bettina missed the luxury of her baths. The small bowl of water allotted to her each day was hardly sufficient, and she soon found that her dirty hair was to be her worst problem. But after two weeks she was able to wash it, when the Windsong encountered her first rainstorm on this voy­age. She had to go on deck, which the captain sternly disapproved of, and let the rain caught by the slack­ened sails pour down on her. It meant getting soaked to the bone and having to walk across the slippery, dangerous decks, but it was worth it.

  The men were ordered below decks, for the captain preferred not to take chances. But with Jacques Marivaux and his officers on guard, and Madeleine beside her, Bettina felt quite safe.

  The captain joined Bettina a few times for dinner, and each time he stressed that she must remain out of sight of the crew. She was allowed on deck in the late evening, after most of the crew was below, but only if the captain or one of his officers was with her. Bettina couldn't understand why, and the captain was too embarrassed to explain. Finally, Bettina asked Mad­eleine why she couldn't have the freedom of the ship.

  "It's not for you to concern yourself with, ma cherie," Madeleine said. "You just do as the capitaine instructs."

  "But you do know the reason, don't you, Maddy?" Bettina pressed her.

  "Yes, I suppose I do."

  "Then why do you hesitate to tell me? I am not a child anymore."

  Madeleine shook her head. "You are innocent of life, and a child in many ways. You know nothing of men, and the less you know, the better."

  "You cannot protect me forever, Maddy. I will have a husband soon. Must I be completely ignorant?"

  "No—no, I suppose you are right. But do not ex­pect this old woman to tell you everything you want to know."

  "Very well, just tell me why I cannot have the free­dom of the ship," Bettina replied.

  "Because you must not tempt the crew with your beauty, my pet. Men have strong desires that make them want to make love to a woman, especially one as lovely as you."

  "Oh!" Bettina gasped. "But surely they know that they cannot."

  "Yes, but if the crew is subjected to seeing you every day, then they will begin to want you. This desire that a man has can become so overpowering that he will even risk death to make love to a woman."

  "How do you know all of these things, Maddy?" Bettina asked, smiling.

  "I may never have married, but I have knowledge of men. When I was young, I was not shielded from them as you have been, Bettina."

  "You mean you have made love with a man?" "Now your curiosity goes too far, young lady. Leave this old woman in peace."

  "Oh, Maddy." Bettina sighed, for she knew Mad­eleine would tell her no more, and there were so many things that she wanted to know. Perhaps after she was married all her questions would be answered. But she couldn't help wondering what making love would be like. It must be a great pleasure if men would risk their lives to do it. But she would just have to wait until she was married; then she would learn what it was all about.

  After three weeks at sea, a most unpleasant inci­dent occurred. Bettina was alone in her cabin, for Madeleine had left her to wash some of their clothes. When the door opened, Bettina didn't even glance up, thinking it was Madeleine returning. But she screamed when two hands clamped down on her shoulders and spun her around. The man didn't seem to hear her. He just held her, his glazed eyes covering her body slowly, but he made no move to do anything else.

  "Seize him!" the captain shouted.

  Bettina started, and then two men hurried into the cabin and took hold of the man. She followed in con­fusion and watched as the man was dragged across the deck, despite his frantic struggling. He was then tied to the mainmast and the first officer ripped his tunic fiercely apart.

  Captain Marivaux appeared beside Bettina, scowl­ing. "It is most unfortunate that this has happened, mademoiselle. Comte de Lambert will be furious when he learns that you were nearly raped."

  Bettina did not look at the captain, for she was staring as if in a daze at the poor man who was awaiting his punishment. The first officer himself stood be­hind the man with a short whip in his hand. The whip was made of coiled leather, about a yard long, frayed into many knotted strands.

  The captain addressed his crew harshly, but Bettina was too appalled at what was about to happen to even listen to his words. Then Captain Marivaux gave the signal and the first officer cracked the whip in the air once, twice, then brought it down with brutal force across the man's back. Thin trickles of blood ran down from the red streaks across the man's quivering flesh. Then another streak appeared as the whip lashed down once more.

  "No, for God's sake! Stop this!" Bettina cried.

  "It must be done, Mademoiselle Verlaine. The crew was warned, so it is no fault of yours."

  Again and again that horrible instrument tore into the man's back, splattering his blood across the deck and onto nearby men's clothing. Bettina didn't know when she ran to the railing. Perhaps it was when the man started screaming, but even that didn't last for long. When her retching finally stopped, she could st
ill hear the horrible sound of the whip tearing into the man's flesh, and there was not another sound to be heard.

  Finally it stopped. Thirty lashes had been given, she was told later, and the man was only barely alive. In Bettina's mind, the man had only frightened her, and for this he was writhing in pain and would be useless for the remainder of the voyage.

  Bettina cried that night, and she was sick three more times, every time she thought about that hor­rible scene. A man had almost died because he had nearly raped her. Raped.

  "What did the capitaine mean, Maddy, when he said that man nearly raped me?" Bettina asked late that same night. "All he did was look at me, and for that he suffered terrible pain."

  Madeleine, who was lying on her small cot, was staring moodily at the ceiling of the cabin. She was as disturbed as Bettina over what had happened that day, but her concern was for her ward.

  She looked at Bettina now, a worried expression on her face. "He would have done more than that if the capitaine had not come in time. This is my fault, Bet­tina. I should not have left you alone."

  "But the man did nothing, and now he is marred for life because of me!"

  "He disobeyed the capitaine's orders, and for that he was whipped. The crew was warned not to go near you, Bettina, but this man did not heed the warn­ing. He would have made love to you if the capitaine had not heard your scream," Madeleine said quietly.

  "Then why didn't the capitaine say that, instead of saying he nearly raped me?"

  "Did you want that man to touch you?"

  "Of course not," Bettina replied.

  "Well, he would not have taken your wishes into consideration. He would have forced himself on you against your will, and that is rape."