Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) (4 page)

He arched an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Yes. At least most of your prisoners eventually walk away after you’ve taken them, which is a very good thing.”

He chuckled. “You have heard the truth. I’m not the evil person you have thought me to be. I don’t kill and torture people for the mere sport. I only kill if they are threatening my life or the lives of my men.”

“Tell me, Captain Hawk, why did you attack the stagecoach, kill the driver and guard, and take us prisoner? We are all humble people and far from wealthy.”

“This I know, Miss Stanley. All I wanted, however, was some documents that were being carried by someone in your group.”

“Have you found these documents?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, but I shall not give up my search.”

“Are you certain the documents and the person carrying them were in the stagecoach? Could you have been mistaken?”

He sat back and linked his fingers across his chest. “Miss Stanley, men such as myself do not get where we are in life by making mistakes. I have many informants, and I trust their word.”

She frowned. “I understand.” She sipped her wine. “But when you finally obtain these documents, will you release us?”

“But of course. As you have said before, I have a reputation, and I certainly release my prisoners when I’m through with them.” He studied her over the rim of his cup. “You seem in a hurry to leave.”

“Perhaps I am.”

“You mentioned earlier you were on your way to New York to settle your father’s affairs.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how he died.”

Taking a deep breath, she laid down her fork and placed her hand over the hidden dagger on her lap. She couldn’t tell Hawk the truth. So what could she say that he would believe? “My father had a business in New York. He has an estate and a townhouse as well. He fell ill, and before he could sail home, he died.”

“Why are you in charge? Does he not have a solicitor who can take care of this?”

“If he does, I wasn’t told. When debt collectors sent me letters demanding money, I feared the worst—that he didn’t have a solicitor. That’s why I’m here.”

Hawk lifted his cup of wine toward her. “I wish you well in your endeavors. I do know how tedious the task will be if not done correctly.”

“Pray Captain, may I be so bold as to ask if you know anyone I can contact that might help me in this matter?” After she asked, she nearly patted herself on the back for thinking of such an idea. How else could she lead him to think she was starting to trust him?

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. His finger stroked his mustache as his gaze stayed on her. “Hmm… Let me think on this. I’m quite certain I know someone who might help.”

“Thank you, Captain. A woman such as I, in a strange place like New York, would be very appreciative of your kindness.”

“How much would you appreciate it?”

Inwardly, she seethed. By the stretch of his cheesy grin, she knew what inappropriate thoughts ran amok through his head, and she’d like to slap those wicked ideas right out of his head.
Just continue to be nice and cooperative,
she reminded herself. “Very much.”

“Then I’ll eagerly find a person to assist you, my dove.”

“I shall anxiously await your answer.”

As she took another sip of her wine, she didn’t know if the drink was calming her worry, or if Hawk was charming her. Either way, she wasn’t as nervous as before, and she quite enjoyed talking with him. “Captain? May I ask what you have planned for me and the other prisoners?”

Using his napkin, he wiped his mouth then stood. Because of his mask, she couldn’t read his expression; she could only watch his lips. Right now he was neither smiling nor frowning as he walked around the table to her side.

“I plan on releasing the prisoners soon, I assure you.” He slid a hand into hers and tugged, pulling her up to stand in front of him. She quickly grabbed the linen-covered dagger and placed it on the table next to her fork.

“As for you, my dove,” he whispered, cupping her face and leaning closer, “I plan on getting to know you better.”

She didn’t have time to panic before his mouth covered hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she could fight him off. Her mind screamed at her to stop him, yet cooperation was the best way to get him to bend to her will. But the longer he kissed her so tenderly, the more she melted. She didn’t want this, but he no longer acted the part of a fearsome highwayman. Instead, she saw him as a real man.

She clutched his shoulders just to keep from dropping to the floor. Immediately, every nerve in her body responded, and her mind quit fighting to stop him. No man had ever kissed her like this, and heaven help her, she enjoyed it immensely.

He slid his hands around her and pulled her closer. His bulging muscles had her mesmerized, and all she wanted to do was run her palms over his shoulders and down his arms.

This was wrong, completely and utterly against all she’d set her mind to or been brought up to believe, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly she was paralyzed—melting—swirling in a haze of sensation and longing. Leaning into him, she fully participated in the kiss.

He broke the kiss and moved his mouth to her ear where he nibbled. She gasped and fell back against the table, her palm pressing on the hidden dagger. Awareness of where she was and what she was doing snapped inside her.

Although she had never felt so alive, she couldn’t let this continue. She knew what he wanted, and marriage and family were not included. Determination to stop Captain Hawk surged through her with renewed force. It didn’t matter if he kissed her with such tenderness; he would never love her or be the kind of man she dreamed of marrying.

She must remember Captain Hawk was the very reason her father died, and the very reason she had been left penniless.

Slowly, she moved her fingers under the linen napkin and grasped the dagger. While Hawk rained kisses over her neck, she brought the weapon out, moving the blade between them.

He lifted his head and smiled at her with dazed passion in his eyes. Why did he look so handsome? He studied her face, then frowned and dropped his gaze, pulling back slightly.

“I’ll not let you ravish me, you beast! You killed my father. I’ll not be another victim.” Panicked, she pushed the blade through the sinew and muscle of his chest. Blood flowed over her fingers, warm and sticky.

His face turned white, and he staggered backward, grasping the weapon. He pulled it from his body and met her gaze with a questioning look.

She sobbed and took slow steps away. Oh, no! What had she done? “I didn’t mean to… If you hadn’t kissed me…”

He shook his head and stepped toward her, but stumbled against the table. Falling, he smacked his head on the corner and collapsed on the floor, motionless.

Tears filled her eyes and she bit her knuckles to keep from crying.
I killed him. I’m a murderer no better than these highwaymen!
This wasn’t her plan. She had to get out of here. Now!

When her back slammed against the door, she turned and pulled on the doorknob. As she rushed out of the room, she ran into a bulky man who grabbed her shoulders and glared. His attention moved to her bloody hands, to inside the cabin.

His eyes widened. “Blimey, wench. Ye killed the
Capt’n
’!”

“No,” she sobbed, unable to look back and see the unmoving figure of the once interminable Hawk. The slick of his blood stained her hands. “
’Twas
an accident.”

“Don’t look like no accident to me, lady.”

She struggled to pull away from his harsh grip, but he held tight. “You don’t understand. I—I—was on my way to find someone to help him.”

“
Ye’r
lyin
’, wench.”

His fist flew out and knocked her across the jaw. Blackness filled her vision and closed her mind as her body sank motionless to the floor.

* * * *

Every muscle in Marcus’ body ached when he breathed. It especially hurt to open his eyes. He hadn’t consumed so much alcohol before that it had caused such an ill effect on him. The sun peeked in through his window, making him squint. What time of the day was it? Looked to be somewhere near the noon hour. Why did he sleep so long? There was much to do.

Then he remembered Isabelle, the kiss, and the moment she thrust the dagger between his ribs. It took much effort to lift his throbbing head to glance at his wound, so instead, he moved his hands to the bandage wrapped around him. Apparently, he wasn’t dead, especially if his body screamed in pain.

Where was Isabelle? Did his men know she’d tried to kill him?

He groaned and turned his head on the pillow. The table where they’d had dinner still stood with dishes on top—minus the food. One chair lay on the ground.

Why had she wanted him dead? The way she’d melted in his arms let him know she enjoyed his kiss. What had she said before he blacked out? Something about not meaning to? The more he thought about her words, the more he was convinced she blamed him.

The pulsation in his head intensified, and he lifted his hand to rub his temple. A goose egg size bump rose on his skull. Why couldn’t he remember everything that had happened? He did, however, recall she’d confessed her knowledge about her father’s death. If she knew he’d killed her father, why had she pretended to be someone else? Obviously, she wanted to gain his trust, which he foolishly gave.

The door creaked open and he moved his attention to the visitor. Simon carried in a tray of food.

“You’re awake now,” Simon cheered.

Marcus nodded. “That, I am, although I wish I wasn’t.”

“We thought you weren’t going to make it, Captain.” Simon placed the tray on the bed beside Marcus. “For days we waited patiently—”

“Did you say
days
?”

“Indeed. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for three days.”

Marcus swiped shaky fingers through his grimy strands, and the proof of his unwashed hair was a testament to Simon’s words.

“This is the first time you’ve been awake enough to eat.”

Simon helped him to an upright position as the crew member fluffed pillows behind Marcus’ back. “I tell you, we’ve never been so worried in our lives.”

“I appreciate it.” Steam from the broth rose to his nose, making the mere soup smell like a king’s meal. His stomach grumbled. “Tell me, where is Miss Stanley?”

Simon’s expression darkened into a scowl. “We wanted to string her from her toenails and hang her from a tree, leaving her for the bears and wolves to feast upon. If it weren’t for Gabe—”

“You knew she stabbed me?”

“Aye, Captain. Theo caught her right after she’d done the deed and locked her in the empty room.” Simon motioned his head in the direction. “She’s been there ever since.”

“Are you feeding her?”

“Only mere scraps, Sir. Why should we waste our good food on someone we’re just going to kill?”

Although Marcus wanted to wring the woman’s slender neck for what she’d done, his gut clenched from the thought of her half starved. He didn’t know what kind of punishment to issue. Killing her was out of the question, not without fulfilling his thirst for revenge against her father.

“Simon, feed her the same thing you’re giving the other prisoners. On second thought, give her more. We need to fatten her up a bit.”

“But, Captain—”

“Don’t argue with me. My mind is made up.”

“Aye, Sir.” Simon turned and walked toward the door.

“One more thing,” Marcus called out.

“What?”

“Send Gabe in as soon as possible.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Simon walked out of the cabin and shut the door. Marcus lifted the bowl of broth to his lips and sipped. The broth coated his stomach, making him hungry for more.

He moved his attention around the room once more. The place was a disaster. Clothes scattered everywhere. Bloodied bandages discarded on the floor in a pile as if whoever put them there didn’t think to dispose of them. Dishes from three days ago still sat on the table. Since his serving boy had died of the fever a year ago, Marcus had hired a twelve-year-old from the orphanage to do the duties of the powder monkey. Now that they were on land, Marcus had the lad help clean rooms. Unfortunately, David, the cook, had Monkey occupied of late. Marcus didn’t have time to find another boy to clean his room. Now he wished he had, only because he didn’t want to have to look at this mess until he was strong enough to clean it himself.

As the broth filled his empty stomach, ideas consumed his mind. He leaned back against the pillows and grinned. Actually, he did have a cabin boy…or girl. Didn’t matter what her gender, Miss Stanhope would clean his room and take care of him as he recovered. She wouldn’t enjoy it, to be sure, but the punishment fit the crime.

He’d get to issue commands as if she were one of his crew members. She’d want to lash her vicious tongue at him, but he’d scorn her for that, too. Schemes raced through his head, making him smile wider. The first order of business would be giving him a bath in his hip tub. Hopefully, he’d be strong enough to walk to and from the bath without difficulty.