Heather Graham (31 page)

“Yes, but how will he do—”

“I’ll see that he has plenty!” Mary Kate assured her. “Why, the young duke there is so proficient with a cup, I expect to see him swilling down a whiskey with your father any day now!”

Rose laughed at that. God, it was good to hear her laughter.

“Maybe you’re right,” Rose agreed. She sighed. “I’ve just never been away more than an hour or so, really, riding about the estate.”

“And it’s time,” Mary Kate said firmly.

“It’s time because it is almost time to go back to England,” Rose said firmly. She bundled up her son and stood, determined to give him a good feeding that night. She could begin her weaning in the morning.

Mary Kate watched her affectionately. “Do you remember, love,” she said softly to Rose, “that long, long ago we spent an evening with you ranting and raving and telling me what a wretch Lord DeForte was?”

Rose, closing her eyes as she leaned back, just beginning to feel the marvelous sense of warmth and comfort she did each time her son latched on to her breast and tugged gently, stiffened instead.

“Yes, I remember.”

“But you came to love him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then, Rose! Give love a chance again,” Mary Kate entreated softly.

They didn’t understand, Rose thought. They just didn’t understand. She wanted to give love a chance …

It was just that she couldn’t forget. And somehow, she knew that love just couldn’t be as good again.

She had to find a way to prove Pierce innocent. To clear his name.

Perhaps that would be the only way that she could ever really live again, much less love.

“We’ll see, Mary Kate, we’ll see.” She pretended a loud yawn. “I’m exhausted. Woody can just sleep with me, Mary Kate. No protests, please? You’ll manage just fine tomorrow, I know you will.” She closed her eyes, feigning a drowsiness she didn’t really feel. But though she loved Mary Kate, she wanted to be alone.

She held her baby close. She closed her eyes, wishing they would all leave her alone. No matter how she tried, she could never forget Pierce.

And she didn’t want to love again. Not when his memory still haunted her, night and day. The pain, the betrayal, the anger … and the love.

She lay awake late, and remembered.

Morning came swiftly for her. She cuddled Woody, played with him and nursed him, then turned him over to Mary Kate’s care.

“He’ll be fine!” Mary Kate assured her. “’Tis you I’m worried about! I should be with you,” she said with a cluck of disapproval.

“I’m a widow, and a barracuda of one, so I’ve heard,” Rose said with a slight smile. “Father is terribly concerned that my business acumen is going to destroy my chances for another marriage—no matter how much wealth he manages to bestow on me!”

Mary Kate sighed. “Rose, it’s truly not proper that you should be alone—”

“I was alone a long time, Mary Kate,” Rose assured her. “Sir Wesley is considered a complete gentleman, and I’m certain I’ll be well chaperoned in his home.”

“We were tricked once,” Mary Kate said.

“And I am much older and wiser now,” Rose assured her.

“Not so much older!”

“Then infinitely wiser!” Rose paused for a moment. “No one will ever trick or force me into anything again. I swear it!” She hadn’t realized how chillingly intent she felt until she heard her own words. She smiled quickly to break the tension. “I’ll be fine, Mary Kate. And I never could leave Woody behind if you weren’t going to be here.” She hugged Mary Kate. “We’ll all be together when we leave for England soon.”

Mary Kate nodded. Rose offered her one last smile, then turned to head for the door.

Curiously, Rose stopped for a moment. The strangest sensation of icy cold suddenly seemed to wash over her.

She shouldn’t go out that door …

The feeling was so fiercely frigid that for seconds it seemed she could neither move nor even breathe. She fought it.

She had things to do, had to live!

“Rose?” Mary Kate inquired worriedly.

“I’m fine, Mary Kate. I pray you, take care of the boy!”

Then she fled quickly. The carriage that would take her to the docks was waiting below.

It was a beautiful day.

There was nothing to fear.

Nothing …

The morning dawned clear and beautifully cool. Pierce leapt up to the decking on the bow of his ship and stood, feeling the ocean breeze ripple around him and the sun beat down upon his face. Legs strong and slightly apart, well attuned to the roll of the sea, his hands upon his hips, he stared westward. His white shirt whipped and rustled against his arms and chest, caught by the breeze.

He stared upon the horizon, his patch lifted as he squinted against the reflections cast on the ever-moving sea by the sun. There … a speck on the horizon.

Then he heard the lookout, calling down from the crow’s nest.

“There she be, Captain! There she be! The
Lady May
! Sailing our way, direct in our path!”

“Aye, there she be!” Pierce repeated softly. “There she be.” He turned, calling his order to Jay as first mate, who would shout it out to all the crew.

“Prepare to fire! Then we wait till she’s just in range. Fire wide, fire off! We need to grapple her and reach Niemens. Remember, she’s one of our own. ’Tis not a fight we want. Just the ship. The
Lady May.

“And the Lady Rose,” he added softly to himself.

His wait was nearly over.

Oh, yes.

So very nearly over!

“F
IRE!”

The first shot exploded. Pierce watched as the cannon flared, the ball soared, and the water plumed up, hot and white. His shot fell short. He’d intended it that way.

“Get me the glass!” he called to Sean. Within seconds he held a spyglass to his eye, and looked out across the rolling sea to the
Lady May.

His heart seemed to crash against his chest in a fervor, then go still.

She was there, at the helm, with Niemens.

Ah, Rose!

A trembling swept through him. She had changed little. So very little. Beautiful, passionate, her copper hair catching the sun, she was arguing with Niemens.

Ready to take on the pirates herself, he was certain. Well, that was Rose. Ready to do battle. Some things did not change. She must be frightened. But she didn’t look it. She was determinedly telling Niemens something—probably that she was going to remain on deck.

“Don’t let her do it, old boy!” Pierce muttered out loud.

Then he smiled with satisfaction. It didn’t appear that Niemens was going to do so. He was apparently pleading with Rose, begging her to go below. Smart fellow, Pierce thought. A command would have kept her right where she was standing. An abject plea from the heart might bring her around.

A cannon exploded very near his own ship. White water rained up over him. “Return fire!” he called. “Yet keep it a warning shot!”

Aha! Niemens was going to see to this himself. He took hold of Rose’s arm. Her green skirt swirled behind her. Niemens was leading her from the helm, and down to the master’s cabin.

Pierce smiled again.

Right where he wanted her.

Now … all he had to do was take the ship with as little damage as possible.

The
Lady May
took a shot at him again. It fell just short of the portside deck. The ship rocked and rolled wildly, but Pierce held his stance. “Two volleys!” he called to Sean. “One to her starboard, one to her port. Then bear down, and let her know we mean to grapple her!”

The shots were fired at his command. Even as the reverberations died away, his pirate ship was being expertly steered around the
Lady May.
It appeared for long seconds as if the figurehead would jut right through the
Lady May
’s deck, but then his ship came flatly broadside her.

“Grappling hooks,” he ordered.

Then he slipped his patch into place and pulled his plumed hat low over his eye, determined that no man aboard the
Lady May
was going to recognize him until he was ready. He slipped his sword from the scabbard at his side and leapt down from the bow to the deck. Some of the more adventurous fellows from the
Lady May
had prepared to jump from her rigging and sides the moment they had seen they would be boarded. Those fellows were already engaged in battle, swords clashing with Pierce’s men’s blades, determined that they would fight for their lives. Pierce quickly deflected a blow himself, sending the fellow’s sword flying. The man hopped back, eyes wide, afraid for his life. Pierce stepped on past him, his voice rising above the shouts and cries and clashing of steel. “Good fellows, I want no bloodshed on this ship! Stop the fight. You’ve proven your courage. But I tell you, my men will slay you to the very last man if you force a fight. We’ve not come to do murder, nor to take anything that is not rightly mine. Now, pay heed! I’ve need to speak with Niemens, and then he’ll speak with you—and good fellows, I’ll warrant that there can be peace between us!”

There was a silence. Then someone called out, “’E’s a bloody pirate, ye fools! We can’t give him Captain Niemens!”

“I swear to you—on the Dragonslayer’s honor,” Pierce said, bowing deeply, “that no harm will come to the good captain!”

There was another hesitation. How could he blame them? No man had ever looked more the pirate, for his left lobe sported a gold death’s head, his patch lay over his eye, his loose shirt and form-hugging trousers were black as night.

He swept off his hat to them. “Gentlemen! On my honor!”

Before anyone else could speak, Niemens stepped forward. “I’m Captain Niemens. As you’ve yet to seize an English vessel, I’ll trust in you. Come into my cabin.”

“Your cabin is occupied. Come into mine.”

“’E’s not going to your cabin!” another sailor called out. Sean started forward, drawing his sword.

“Easy!” Pierce warned him. “Remember, these are our friends!”

“No one is your friend, my lord, that you can guarantee! No one but those who sail with you now!”

“Niemens will serve me, you will see!” Pierce said softly. It didn’t matter. The man who had challenged Sean had moved back, and Niemens, sprightly for his age, was leaping over the rails between the boats. He had barely approached Pierce when a startled gasp of recognition escaped him.

“Captain!” someone roared, alarmed.

“It’s fine, my lads, it’s fine!” Niemens called out. He clapped Pierce on the shoulder, leading the way to the captain’s cabin himself. “God in His infinite wisdom, Your Grace!” Niemens exploded. “You’re the Dragonslayer? You? Well, by God, and I wonder if His Majesty Charles doesn’t know. He’s made no real effort to see that you’re apprehended. My God! You’re supposed to be dead—”

“Ah, but I’m very much alive!” Pierce returned softly. “Can I count on you?”

“To the grave, milord!” Niemens swore with dignity.

Pierce smiled. “I didn’t do it, Gaylord. Before God and the angels, I swear it. I’m an innocent man.”

“I am your man, sir!”

Pierce glanced toward the
Lady May.
“What of your crew?” he asked him anxiously. “Some of them might know me. Some are assuredly new. What of their loyalty?”

“They’ll obey me, I’m certain. Depending, of course, on just what it is you plan!”

“Tell them that I’m taking command of the ship in the next few hours, that I’ve guaranteed you safe passage after, and that I’ll speak with them shortly. Give me just a minute to see my wife. You see, I’ve come for her, Gaylord. But that’s for later. I need just a second with her, and then I’ll explain my purpose to the men, and win their cooperation, I warrant.”

Niemens nodded. If there was a way, Lord DeForte would find it. Niemens personally knew every man serving under him. He knew their tempers and their loyalty. He could depend upon them, and he couldn’t imagine a one of them who would want to turn the Duke of Werthington in to the authorities in London.

Especially knowing that he was the Dragonslayer, who had given such grief to so many Spaniards!

“I shall go tell the Lady Rose—”

“No, no. Thank you,” Pierce said politely with a smile. “I’ll go see the Lady Rose.” He smiled. “Gather the men on deck. Sean and Jay will follow, just to guard my back until I’m certain all the fellows are at peace.”

Niemens nodded. He called out his orders to the men, guaranteeing them that the Dragonslayer would reveal his purpose in a moment, that they were not to fight. They were not, after all, Spaniards.

Pierce leapt over the barriers between the ships, trusting his back to his loyal friends. He quickly strode to Niemens’ cabin.

And there he held for a moment. Rose. Just what would she be doing? Heat seared through him. After all this time! This was it.

Revenge.

And all that he wanted to do was touch her again.

He grit his teeth, feeling a rush of fire and steel sweep through him. He kicked upon the door savagely.

And there she was.

For a moment, he stood there in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her. The green of her gown emphasized the emerald of her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips deeply red against the ivory of her face. Her hair was wild, loosened from the pins that had held it while she had been tossed about the cabin by the wild sway of the ship.

Her face was still every bit as perfectly beautiful as he had remembered. As classically drawn. Her eyes were as wild, as challenging. Her person …

Her waist was every bit as trim. Her breasts …

Were heaving. Spilling from her gown. They’d grown.

Ummm …

The tension in him tightened and wound in a spiral.

She returned his stare, her breasts heaving from exertion, fury and fear mingled in her eyes. She had yet to recognize him, he thought, and he didn’t know if that fact amused or angered him. Caught in the tangle of her skirts, she tried to free herself and rise. Jerking upon the cloth, she managed to stagger to her feet, still keeping her eyes locked upon his.

Then he realized that she wasn’t quite staring at him anymore, not steadily. Her gaze had slid to the captain’s desk where a letter opener lay.