Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) (8 page)

After dinner, they shared bits of conversation and a bottle of his best brandy.  Trevor was amazed by Caroline’s knowledge of the ship and life at sea.  Endeavoring to gain more insight to her past, why he was interested he could not say, he probed her history with the stealth of a spy.

In less than two blinks of an eye, he confirmed her father had been in the Navy and died in battle at sea.  Her mother and brother were still alive, and she intimated he was currently on a voyage.  Trevor wondered if her sibling was aware of her situation.  Of the circumstances, whatever they were, that had led her to become a paramour.  In secret, he cursed a family that, regardless of how dire their plight, would allow a diamond of the first water to undertake such an occupation.

To his surprise and delight, he discovered Caroline was educated.  Well-versed in current affairs, she had opinions on everything from war tactics to the social and moral strictures placed on women.  What he took particular delight in, however, was her fervent belief in her right to voice her opinion.

In silence, he mused it would take an indulgent man to marry the spirited woman.  Just as quick, he corrected himself.  Men did not marry their mistresses--not men of his stature.  And then he pondered what made him think of marriage in the first place.

“Tell me something.”  Trevor shifted in his chair and studied the contents of his glass.  “How did you come to be in the company of Dalton Randolph?  What twist of fate placed you aboard his ship?”

Fidgeting in her seat, tugging at the folds of her robe, Caroline gazed into the flickering flame of the candle on the table.  Myriad emotions danced across her face.  Pain.  Sadness.  He realized he had touched on a sensitive topic and was about to change the subject when she spoke.

“I was trying to escape.”  Her voice matched her melancholy expression.  “I wanted to run away.”

That was interesting.  Trevor leaned forward in his chair.

“What were you running from?”

“The past.”

Various images danced in his head.  Was Mistress Caroline a thief or a criminal of some sort?  What a ridiculous notion.  He propped an elbow on the table.  “What did you do?”

“I fell in love.”

Punch to the gut, completely unexpected.

Cupping his chin in his hand, he opened his mouth, and then closed it.  Though this was not the confession he anticipated, it was no less arresting.

“Who was he?”

“A man,” she said, with a ghost of a quiver.  “Just a man, but I thought he was special.  He courted me without reserve, led me to believe he was in love, and wished to marry.  So I gave him my heart, I had such high hopes.”  Caroline choked on a sob.  Her hand shook as she lifted her balloon of brandy and sipped.

As she set the glass down, Trevor reached for her hand, clasped her fingers, and squeezed a reassurance.  She did not look at him, but he spied tears pooling, glittering in her blue eyes.

“And?”

Still, she stared unseeing.  “As I awaited a proposal, he announced his engagement to another.”

“I do not understand.”

“Do you not?  He used me to gain the attention and acquiescence of another.”  Caroline impaled him with a steely gaze simmering with anguish.  “He never wanted me.”

“Good God,” Trevor exclaimed in disbelief.  “What of your brother?  Surely he called the blackguard out?”

“He was at sea.”

“He bloody well should have demanded satisfaction when he returned.”

“He wanted to, but I would not let him.”

“Why the devil not?”

“Because it would have only prolonged my shame.”

“So your family did nothing?  The bastard should have been forced to wed you.”

“I would not have him marry what he did not love.  And my family settled with his.  My brother’s broken knuckles and my former suitor’s black eye attested to it.  Polite explanations were made to cover my affront.  A rumor circulated to the gossipmongers that I had conspired with my
friend
to bring his chosen lady to the altar, and suddenly I was a veritable saint.”

“And that made it all right?”

“No.”

“Because you were in love?”

“Actually, I’m no longer certain it was love.”

“Then what was it?”

“I suppose it was the possibility that, at last, someone could want me.”

“Forgive my confusion, but you think yourself unattractive?”  Positive the charming paramour was fishing for compliments, he vented a snort of skepticism.  “My dear, you are beautiful.”

“I know what I am, I know how I look, and I make no apologies.”  Caroline shot out of her chair, and it fell backward to the floor with a thud.  “My face is not fair, I stand too tall--I am neither petite nor graceful, and I have opinions, which I can, will, and do share.  I will not lie to myself, or anyone else, and pretend to be something I am not.  Now, if you will excuse me, I should like to go to bed.”

Stunned by the revelation, by the force of her estimable declaration, Trevor remained in his seat, unable to move, as she marched to the bunk they shared and eased to her side.  If it were anyone else, he would have questioned the sincerity behind the bold affirmation.  But the ladybird’s trembling shoulders and soft sobs she tried, but failed, to stifle told him her emotional distress was genuine.  It appeared Mistress Caroline carried wounds as deep as his own, a fact that unnerved him for reasons he understood too well.  And in that instant, she earned from him something no woman had ever claimed.

Respect.

#

Oh, why had she told him so much of her past?

It was almost evening, and Caroline had not left the comfort and refuge of the bunk.  So much had transpired, and she was reeling.  After her embarrassing confession the previous night, she’d hid in the cabin all day, wanting nothing more than to avoid Trevor’s sympathetic stare.

She did not want his pity.

Something else nagged her conscience.  She had not told him everything; she had held something back.  If she was going to give her captain her most intimate gift, she wanted him to know the whole, complicated truth of her circumstances.  She had to, really, because she cared for him.  Of late she compared what she’d felt for Lord Darwith, her errant suitor, with what she now felt for Trevor.  In all honesty, there simply was no comparison, so her choice was made.  And, if he would have her, if only on a temporary basis, she would surrender.

“Still in bed, my lady?”

Holding a tray of covered dishes, the green-eyed dragon kicked the door shut and smiled in that boyishly sweet expression that never failed to give her gooseflesh.

“I did not sleep well.”

“Believe I already knew that.”

“Did I disturb you?”

“Not much,” he said, setting the tray on the table.

“I am sorry.  Will you forgive me?”

“Only if you consent to have dinner with me.”

Oh, he was in a playful mood, and she was in a mood to play.  But as Caroline eased into her chair, she second-guessed her plan.  Picking at her food, moving vegetables from one side of her plate to the other, she searched for some way to broach the subject foremost on her mind.

“What can I do?” Trevor asked, his forehead a mass of furrows.

“I beg your pardon?”

“How can I make it better?”

Cursing her suddenly absent courage, she considered his question, then said, “I want to know about you.”

As her host studied his clasped hands, Caroline reconsidered her request.  “Perhaps--”

“I suppose I should begin with what I love most.”  Trevor inclined his head and smiled.  “Sailing.”

Intent on learning all she could about the handsome captain, before she divulged her last secret, she gave him her full attention.

In a few short minutes, Caroline realized Trevor was a man very much like her brother.  He hired experienced seamen, no landsmen, he cared for his crew, and his men respected him.  Possessing knowledge of sailing that would rival her elder sibling’s, he had made the rank of captain in the Royal Navy at the ripe old age of six and twenty.

“Tell me about the sword.”  She motioned with her hand.  “The one hanging on the wall.  I noticed it the night you brought me here, and if I recall correctly, you said it has been in your family for years.  Does it have a history?”

“Indeed, it does, and it has a mate.”  Balancing the heavy decanter, he refilled their glasses.  “But for you to understand the significance, we must journey to another time.”  Trevor tapped his fingertips together.  “The weapon dates to the eighth century.  It was a gift in observance of a marriage arranged to solidify ties between two warring factions.”

“Your ancestors?”  Fascinated, Caroline itched to press for more details, but something in his expression warned her she was treading dangerous waters.

“Exactly.”  He nodded once.  “The images engraved on the hilt, Adam and Eve, were meant to symbolize a new beginning.  A land of peace.  The original pair were handed down from one generation to the next.”

“But you said there were two.  What of the other?”

“Ah, yes.  Eve.”  His face took on a harsh, hardened appearance.  “Look closely, and you will notice the figure etched at the base of the hilt is male.  The sword I have is Adam.  When I was five, my mother took Eve and fled to France with her lover.  I presume she needed money, because once on the Continent, she sold it.  I have tried to recover the heirloom, but my solicitor has never been able to locate the weapon.”

“Excuse me.”  Caroline blinked.  “Did you say your mother abandoned you and your father?”

“Bear with me, because I was very young when it happened, but it began with another arranged marriage.  There were no treaties signed or wars to be averted.  It was the wish of a couple of old men, one being my grandfather, to unite their families, so they betrothed their eldest at birth.”

“Your parents?”

“Eventually.”  He dipped his chin.  “My father loved my mother, of that I am sure, but I do not believe she returned his affection.  As it was their duty, they wed, and I was conceived.  About five years later, a distant relative came to stay with my parents.  Whoever he was, I do not know.”  Trevor shrugged.  “My mother fell in love with the man, and they engaged in an affair.  When my father found out, he confronted them, and they sailed to France.”

“Your poor father.”  Caroline rose from her chair and walked to him.  “And you were only five, just a babe.”

“I was sent away shortly thereafter to distance me from the humiliation and disgrace.”  Trevor quirked one corner of his mouth.  “As for my sire, he drowned his sorrows in a bottle.  I was at sea when he died.  I hardly knew the man.”

She placed her hand on his arm.  “I am so sorry.”

“Do not pity me.”

His thoughts mirrored her own.

“I do not.”  Caroline cupped his cheek.

So much anger.

So much pain.

Now she understood the gruff exterior, and why Trevor reminded her of someone very familiar.  “Are we not a pair?”

“So it would seem, sweet lady.”

Their eyes met, held.

And there it was, the promise of passion, igniting in a flash and burning in a steady blaze of heat and hunger in her belly.  Trevor kissed her palm, and she was certain her knees would buckle at any moment.  Lips parted, his tongue teased her flesh, his teeth nipped ever so gently.  And through the hazy fog of lust, a reminder echoed in her brain.

“Trevor, there is something I would tell you.”

“Now?”

“Yes.  You need to know--”

Boarders!  All hands on deck!

Boarders off the starboard bow!

Outside, cries of alarm from the crew resonated.

“Bloody hell.”  With a calm she found unnerving, Trevor released her, strode to his locker, and swung the door wide.  He retrieved a sheathed sword and a large oak box with brass hinges, then walked to the desk and set them on the blotter.  After rummaging through the top drawer, he produced a small key, which he promptly used to unlock the box.  Inside, on a bed of blue velvet, rested two perfectly matched flintlock dueling pistols.

“Do you know how to use a firearm?” he asked, as he lifted one and held it for her inspection.

Caroline did not hesitate.  “Yes.”  Reaching out, hand shaking, she took what she considered an instrument of war.

Lethal weapon in his grasp, Trevor placed a finger under her chin and brought her gaze to his.  “I will send Billy to stay with you.  He is too young and small to fight.  Lock the door behind him and permit entry to no one but me.  Do you understand?”

She managed to nod despite her ever-increasing fear.

In a move that did not inspire confidence, he bent his head and set his lips to hers in a bruising kiss--as if he expected never to see her again.

And then he was gone.

For a few seconds Caroline was dumbfounded.  Above, pounding footfalls evidenced a furious clash on deck.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”  Billy shuffled into the cabin, wearing a scowl that she found quite amusing.  “Cap’n ordered me to wait here with you.”

“Yes, and we will do as he commands.”  She locked the door just as a hiss rent the air.

From the locker, Billy claimed another sword.  “Oh, I say, I could skewer a few bloody pirates with this.”

“Now, just a minute, the Capt--”

“Hell’s bells, but I’m a man not a boy.”

“Billy, please, you must stay with me.”  Caroline raised her hands, palms facing outward, when the lad pointed the unsheathed, polished steel straight at her.

“You can sit here, if you want, but I’m going to fight.”  With that, he unlocked the door, flung it wide, and charged into the hall.

“Billy, come back.”  She just stopped herself from giving chase.  Quickly, she tucked the pistol in the waistband of her breeches and marched forth as a soldier heading into battle.

For all her brother Blake had told her of combat at sea, nothing could have prepared Caroline for the scene she confronted.  Crouched in the opening that led below decks, she surveyed the skirmish and was not sure what to do.

“Oh, God, I should never have come up here.”

The grating sound of metal striking metal reverberated as the fight reached a fevered pitch.  Bursts of silver flashed in random patterns as lamplight flickered off the flat of the blades.  The boarders had thick, overgrown beards disguising the lower half of their dirt-smudged faces.  Scarves tied about their heads kept matted hair out of their eyes.  What teeth the enemy had were yellow and rotting, and their clothes were torn and filthy.