The Pirate Hunter''s Lady

  Diana flipped to the last pages of the book, which were blank, and backtracked until she found the last entry. The book had gotten wet at some point, the pages blotched and warped.

  I have found him. I will kill him, and all will be avenged.

  And then, nothing. Diana’s heart beat faster as she flipped back through the book. Every page got less coherent as the writer neared the end of the book, the ravings of a madman, far gone in his despair.

  She was fixed, in horror, on a passage where he explained, in full detail, what had happened to his wife and two little girls, when Captain Ardmore banged back into the cabin.

  Chapter Three

  Ardmore stopped. He and Diana regarded each other across the cabin for the space of a few heartbeats, before Ardmore slammed the door, ripped the book out of Diana’s hands, and slammed it back into the trunk.

  He had her up against the wall again with his vast strength before she could draw a breath, his eyes full of anger and old pain. “Not a word of it to anyone, not a damned word. My brother deserves some kind of peace.”

  Diana met his gaze, her fear erased in a wash of compassion. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  She’d read before Ardmore had jerked the diary away that his brother’s wife and children had been tortured and murdered when the ship on which they’d traveled had been attacked by marauders. The rest of the diary had catalogued Ardmore’s brother’s search for the culprits, which had grown more despairing each day.

  “Were the men responsible ever caught?” Diana asked.

  “No.” The word was blunt, final.

  She swallowed, her throat tight. “And your brother?” But in her heart, she knew.

  “Dead.”

  She shook her head. “I truly am sorry.”

  “Paul’s killer, I found. Broke the pirate’s neck.”

  Ardmore leaned into her as he had before, hands locked around her wrists. The power in her grip made Diana believe that he had indeed murdered a man with his bare hands. Ardmore was ruthless, moved by tragic events to do what he thought justified.

  And yet, she was not afraid.

  “I have a daughter,” Diana said. “I know what your brother must have gone through.”

  “I don’t think you do.” Ardmore’s eyes were clear green, his pupils black voids. “You speak of this to no one, not your heroic husband, not your father, not your daughter, not anyone on your little island hideaway.”

  Diana’s breath caught. The existence of Haven was no secret — their friends and acquaintance knew Diana and her father and Isabeau spent their summers there. But what Admiral Lockwood did to help the navy and England there was secret, at least from the enemies of England.

  “You know much about me,” she said.

  “Kinnaird and others like him are thorough.”

  Know your enemy.

  Ardmore pressed her against the wall with his body, his strength and weight ensuring she’d go nowhere. Diana felt his hard muscles through her thin gown, a virile man who took what he wanted.

  If he forced her onto the bunk, she’d never be able to fight him off. Then again, he might simply take her against this wall.

  Her heart thumped, half in fear, half in excitement. If one of his crew had held her like this, she’d have screamed the ship down. But Ardmore’s gaze held her, mesmerized her.

  Diana had never lusted for a man before, not with the primal need that flowed through her now. But here, in this rocking cabin away from the world, that need filled her and wouldn’t be quenched.

  The knowledge of what she felt burned in his eyes. Ardmore leaned closer and skimmed his lips from her forehead down the bridge of her nose to her chin, barely touching, a whisper of feeling.

  Diana shuddered. “Don’t.”

  “Where is Haven, Lady Worthing?”

  Even shaking all over, she knew better than to blurt answers. “It’s not big enough to bother about.”

  His lips brushed her cheek. “I didn’t ask you that. I asked you where it was.”

  “Only my family goes there.”

  He stopped, mouth quirking into a little smile. “Did your father train you to withstand interrogation?”

  “A bit.” She tried to force her gaze from his lips, which were warm and enticing. “Now that you’ve tried seduction, I suppose next comes torture?”

  A rumbling laugh. “It would be a damned shame to mar this body.” Ardmore nuzzled her cheek again and blew warm breath to her skin. “But this isn’t seduction, Lady Worthing. I haven’t even begun to seduce.”

  But it was torture. Pure torture.

  “I’m a married woman,” Diana said.

  “To the much-decorated Sir Edward,” Ardmore drawled. “A naval captain is away for a long stretches of time.”

  “So is a pirate hunter.”

  Ardmore stopped, his mouth an inch from hers, his green eyes snaring her. “Where is the island, Lady Worthing?”

  “Why do you want to know so adamantly?”

  “I have my reasons. Would you like me to take you there now? It’s a long way from your husband.”

  “Why would you think I wanted to stay away from my husband?”

  James touched her cheek, where Edward had last bruised it. The bruises had faded, except for the last vestiges. She covered them with powder, but the wind and water would have dissolved the powder by now.

  His eyes held knowledge. “Because of this.”

  She flinched away. “Was that in Mr. Kinnaird’s report?”

  “Mr. Kinnaird is perceptive. He told me many things about you.”

  Her heart sped. “Mr. Kinnaird doesn’t know me.”

  “Neither do I. But I want to. Let me take you to your island. We can learn all about each other there.”

  “The island is private.”

  “My intention is to be private.” His voice was low, sultry like a summer night. I haven’t even begun to seduce.

  “The fact that you want to know so much where it is makes me cautious about telling you.”

  “I’ll find out anyway, Lady Worthing. Save yourself the trouble.”

  “Haven is insignificant.” Diana tried to draw a breath, but she shivered as Ardmore’s lips brushed her cheek again, right over the last bruises Edward had left. “Hardly worth your notice.”

  “Then why don’t you want me there?”

  Because it would be dangerous. Not only if Haven’s secrets were exposed to him, but this man would be dangerous to Diana. She could easily imagine being with him on the quiet beach, watching the stars, or in her little bedchamber in Haven’s rambling house. He’d try to steal everything she was, and she might let him.

  She said, “You’re an American, and if you’re a privateer, likely you’re an enemy of England. Many Americans are openly helping the French.”

  “Not really. I help no one but myself.”

  “Then there is nothing on Haven to interest you.”

  Ardmore stopped, an impatient light in his eyes. His touch was still seductive, but she sensed him growing annoyed. “If nothing is there, then tell me where it is.”

  “No.” Diana’s word was quiet but unmoving. “Haven is a retreat for my family, and I do not want you there.”

  “But one day I’ll get there.” His voice held more steel. “And I’ll find you waiting.”

  “Not for you.”

  “We’ll see, Lady Worthing.” He skimmed his fingertips down her face, trailing across her throat and along her décolletage. “Make sure you rest. We have a long way to go.”

  He took a step back, lifting his pinning weight from her. The satisfied look in his eyes angered her. Ardmore thought he was breaking her, but Diana had learned years ago, to never, ever break.

  Her hand flashed out to slap him. Quicker than thought, Ardmore caught her hand in his, twisting her arm down. Back against the wall she went.

  This time he there was no gentleness in him. “You fight me, and things might turn bad. I don’t want that to happen.”


  Diana swallowed, his grip hurting her fingers. Fear returned. He was a powerful man, ruthless, ready to use any means necessary to get what he wanted.

  She knew that Ardmore saw her fear, because he gave a satisfied nod. “I’m glad you understand.”

  He let her go again. Diana restrained herself and didn’t go after him, fists flying, like she wanted to. If she did that, he might tie her up, or lock her in some cupboard, or give her to his men. Never mind he said they killed pirates who hurt women — Diana knew enough about sailors to know they weren’t always as respectful of ladies as they should be. And she was a captive, English, an enemy.

  She rubbed her hand while Ardmore walked away without worry. When he shut the door, she grabbed another candlestick, and threw it at the closed door, just to remind him he hadn’t tamed her.

  *** *** ***

  The sun sank and the sea became black. Diana noted that the ship picked up speed as darkness fell, whereas it had been inching along during daylight. Captain Ardmore had been trying not to draw attention to himself, staying just out of sight of shore, but not rushing.

  Now that the long summer day had finally drawn to a close, Ardmore was taking advantage of a good wind to blow them into the Atlantic.

  Diana sat on the bunk and watched the stars through the small porthole. Captain Ardmore had a compass fixed above his bed, so she could see where they were headed — west and slightly southwest.

  Part of her tingled with excitement — a voyage to lands new to her, the spread of stars over the empty sky, the vast ocean beneath her feet. She loved to sail, though she never had gone much farther than Haven or up the coast of England.

  The other part of her was in dismay. Isabeau would be safe with her father, but at the same time, Diana did not want to be parted from her for months and months. And there was no knowing what Edward would do to Isabeau if he claimed Diana had deserted him. Diana’s father had much influence, but Edward had every legal right over Isabeau, and he would exercise them.

  A swell lifted the ship. Diana rose with it, placing her hands on the sill of the porthole. She thrilled as the ship ran down the other side, the frigate well underway.

  The door banged open, and Captain Ardmore filled the doorframe. “Time to go, Lady Worthing.”

  Her heart leapt, her fear returning. “Go where?”

  “Home. Isn’t that what you want?”

  She didn’t know anymore. Diana wanted Isabeau, but she also wanted to sail away in front of this high wind. She could leave the petty, dull, jealous gossip of London, the tedium of calls and soirées, the pretending to be the dutiful captain’s wife, when all she wanted was freedom.

  When Diana didn’t move, Ardmore came to her, took her by the arm, and pulled her with him across the cabin. He yanked open the door and half dragged her into the outer room, where starlight poured through the stern lights.

  “Where are we exactly?” she managed to ask.

  Ardmore pulled with him out onto the deck, into the wind. “Just south of Southampton. I’m putting you ashore. It’s time for me to move on.”

  *** *** ***

  James took Lady Worthing down the ladder to the waiting dinghy himself, one arm around her soft hips and backside as she struggled to hold on as best she could. He settled her onto a seat then took the tiller while one of his sailors raised sail and cast them off into the Channel.

  Diana sat in the bow, clutching the gunwale and looking cold in her finery. The little boat dipped and lurched, and spray drenched them all.

  The moon was high by the time James and his sailor got the dinghy close enough to a little shingle beach about twenty miles from port. He couldn’t risk putting in closer.

  The sailor remained with the boat while James lifted Diana out and set her on the shingle. She slipped and slid, and James helped her climb up the beach to a little pathway at the top, Diana clinging to him every step.

  The pathway turned to a lane, which led to a wider road. Lights of a village twinkled not far away. A village meant a public house, which meant accommodation.

  “We’ll get you something to eat and a bed for the night,” James said. “In the morning, you can send tearful messages to your family that you’re well.”

  “Will I be well?”

  “You will. My word on it.”

  She wouldn’t be if she kept shivering. The night had turned cold, a sharp wind cut from the sea, and Lady Worthing’s flimsy gown was made to float in light summer breezes.

  James slid off his coat and handed it to her. “Put it on.”

  Diana stared at him, gaze dropping to the moonlight gleaming on his bared skin. “You’ll take chill.”

  “I’m hardy. Put on the damned coat. I’ll resume it when we reach the inn so the publican’s wife won’t faint from modesty.”

  Diana stared at him, openmouthed a moment longer, her red lips so kissable. Then she thrust her arms into the coat and pulled it over her shoulders. She was lost in the large thing, her hands hidden by the long sleeves, but at least she stopped shivering.

  They walked in silence. James didn’t like England — the overly neat hedgerows and perpetual chill didn’t appeal to him after the still heat and studied elegance of Charleston. The swamps of the South would terrify the English, with its vast silence, alligators, and ghost lights.

  The village did have a public house with an inn and a publican’s wife. The publican’s wife looked at them askance, even though James resumed his coat before approaching. He poured plenty of coin into her hands, however, to keep her quiet.

  The publican gave them a private parlor upstairs, away from the noisy villagers in the taproom, and the publican’s wife brought up hot soup, boiled beefsteak, and bread.

  Once they’d gone, Diana turned from where she’d warmed herself at the fire and gave James a tired look. “You can leave me now.”

  “Not until I’ve seen you eat,” James said, arranging the plates on the table. “It’s a bad idea for anyone downstairs to think you’re alone up here. The publican and his wife believe you’re my fancy woman.”

  “That is your fault, Captain. You didn’t correct the assumption.”

  “I don’t want to spend a night in an English jail for kidnapping you. You wait until I’m gone tomorrow and then you can tell everyone whatever the hell you want.”

  Diana had sunk to the chair in front of the bread and steaming soup, but she looked up at him again, eyes wide. “Do you mean you’re spending the night here?”

  “I told you, I’m not leaving you alone.”

  “I thought you were releasing me to go home.”

  “I am, but you can’t travel alone in the dark tonight. So here we stay. Unless you want to take your chances with the drunken fishermen in the taproom.”

  Lady Worthing listened a moment to the revelry that poured up the stairs. James saw her realize the wisdom of having someone on hand to protect her. “The floor might be uncomfortable for you,” she said.

  James glanced at the high, plump bed under the eaves. “That’s a wide bedstead. We’ll both be comfortable.”

  Her look turned to a glare. Good. Her sail down the coast and hike in drawing-room finery hadn’t weakened her.

  “You are the most presumptuous, arrogant man I’ve ever met,” she said. She angrily took up a hunk of bread and slapped butter to it.

  James leaned his hip against the table, watching her. “Even your ass of a husband?”

  “Even him. Which is quite an achievement, I assure you.”

  “I’m wounded,” James said, straight-faced. “If he’s such bastard to you, why not enjoy yourself and to hell with him?”

  “Be a lightskirt?” She paused, giving him a wry smile, then went back to spreading butter. “Everyone supposes I am anyway. Gentlemen chase me about, though I have no idea why.”

  “Look in the mirror. And I meant enjoy yourself with me, not your whey-faced English bastards afraid to ruin their manicures.”

  Diana looked up at him over her butt
ering. “You are presumptuous.”

  “You’re in my power, Lady Worthing. I’m being kind to you. A few of my men asked to have you, to teach your husband a lesson. I had to tell them no.”

  “They did?” She looked shocked.

  “They’re sailors, a long way from home, finding the tedium hard. I had to confine them to the brig because I didn’t have time to give them a lash or two to teach them manners.”

  “Don’t flog them,” she said suddenly, sharply. “Don’t.”

  “Threat of a lash keeps a crew under control.”

  “It’s cruel.”

  “I’ve been flogged myself,” James said. “I know what it feels like. It’s no more cruel than a husband who strikes out at a wife.” He motioned to her face. “I saw the marks.”

  Her hauteur came back. “That is none of your concern.”

  “It’s my concern while you’re under my protection. Why so anxious to run back to him?” James leaned to her. His chest went suddenly tight and the next words came out before he could stop them. “Why not come with me?”

  “With you?” Lady Worthing’s décolletage rose sharply with her breath, and she set down the roll. “Why?”

  Chapter Four

  James was liking her more and more. She didn’t give him an arch look or simper at his offer, or look terrified of the prospect of sailing across the Atlantic with him. She simply wanted to know why he’d asked.

  “You’d enjoy yourself. As captain’s lady, you’d have my protection. The Argonaut isn’t a stickler naval vessel — every man on my ship is there because they want to be, we eat and sleep well, and we divide up any spoils equally. I don’t have asinine rules about women on board, so I won’t confine you to my cabin. You’ll have the run of the ship. You can watch the stars from the quarterdeck or help raise the sails for all I care.”

  James closed his mouth to stop the flow words. In a minute, he’d be begging her to come with him. But the thought of letting her go without experiencing her was bothering him for some reason.

  He’d stolen her to bully the location of Haven out of her, and then he’d started to admire her when she wouldn’t easily be cowed. Lady Worthing had taken abduction, the threat of ravishment, his interrogation, and their covert journey without losing one bit of her composure. She despised her husband, that was clear, and the man saw free to beat her.