Lady Pirate (15 page)

Caught by her shoulders, Valoree let Daniel press her back against the wall, his knee sliding between her legs and pushing forward and upward. He tugged at the décolletage of her gown, and she felt the cool air on her nipples like a caress before his hands covered them. His lips left hers to travel down her throat in search of the booty he had just uncovered. Gasping and moaning, Valoree pressed her bare shoulders back into the rough stone, arching her breasts out as he plucked at them with his fingers and licked at the bare flesh he had revealed.

It was like some sort of madness. Daniel wasn't
what she wanted or needed, and yet she wanted and needed him with a violence that would have terrified her had she seen it coming. Clenching her fingers in his hair, she dragged his mouth away from her breast, pulling it impatiently back to her own with little care for the slight pain she might be causing. Daniel responded in kind, catching her still-damp hair in his fingers and tugging her head back as far as it would go. Then he gave her the kiss she wanted, devouring her mouth with a passion that stole all her breath and left her panting and gasping and shuddering. He tugged her skirt impatiently upward and found her thigh, and she felt herself further inflamed by that touch. Then he was suddenly gone. Valoree was left blinking in amazement, her chest heaving with her gasps as she saw Daniel had backed away to several feet in front of her, hands clenched at his sides as he struggled for a return of control.

Valoree gaped at him in amazement for a moment; then the clip-clop of horses' hooves and the jangle of a carriage came to her from over the wall, and she realized why he had stopped. Henry and Meg must have finished and were coming in the carriage to fetch her. Good Lord, had so much time passed?

Shaking her head in an effort to try to clear it, she turned to face the wall. Leaning her forehead against it briefly, she was brought back to herself somewhat by the cool, rough stone pressing against her skin. Then she straightened, took a determined breath, and leaped upward, grasping at the top of the wall with her hands.

Daniel was behind her at once, his hands grasping her waist, then suddenly sliding upward again to her breasts. Valoree gave a startled cry, her fingers releasing their hold on the wall so that she dropped to the ground in front of him again. For a moment, her body seemed to sing with a sort of joy as it felt his nearness
and touch again, and really, at that point, he probably could have thrown her on the ground and taken her right there, carriage on the other side of the wall or no. But then that joy dissipated as she glanced down to see that he was fumbling to put her décolletage back in place, to cover the breasts he had bared.

Before she could move his hands out of the way and take over the task herself, it was done and his hands had moved back to her waist once more. But rather than lift her up then, he turned her in his arms and tortured them both with another searing kiss that left them gasping and breathless.

“Till we meet again,” he murmured near her ear; then he turned her and lifted her upward until she could grasp the wall and help to pull herself to rest across the top of it on her stomach. Her gaze found the carriage a little down the lane.

“There she is. Up a little farther,” she heard Henry call just as she felt a cool breeze drift over her naked legs and behind—a naked legs and behind that would have been clad in breeches had Meg not dragged them from her hands and given them to the men to hide. Jerking around in surprise, she saw Daniel's head disappear beneath her skirt, then felt his lips graze the inside of one thigh, then the other. A moment later, he ducked back out from her skirts and smiled at her wickedly.

“Till we meet again,” he repeated silkily, clasping her bottom through her skirts. Then he levered her upward once more, and Valoree was distracted with the challenge of gaining the wall or finding herself tumbling off the other side of it. Once she was astride the stone, she glanced back down, but Daniel had disappeared, and she could hear the sound of his footsteps receding through the trees.

“Well, are you comin' down, or shall I come up there and fetch ye?” A hand on her ankle drew Valo
ree's head around. One-Eye gazed up at her in amusement. His hat was pushed back on his head, his coat undone and pushed to either side of his waist, and he held a glaring lantern that stung her eyes with its light. She missed the sudden change of expression on his face as he caught a glimpse of her, but she didn't miss his concerned comment.

“Lord love us. You did react nasty to that stuff, didn't ye?” She could see him shake his head through her squinting eyes as he released a low whistle. “Your face is all red and flushed…and even your lips are swollen. Damn, ye're a mess.”

“Thank you,” Valoree said sarcastically, slinging her other leg over the wall, but careful of her skirts in the process. Then, holding the hem down with one hand, she dropped off the wall, landing on her feet in front of him.

“Let's get the hell out of here.”

“Lord Thurborne is a very handsome man.”

Valoree quit shifting impatiently under Meg's ministrations and opened her eyes to peer at the woman presently slathering green muck over her face. It smelled like some sort of garden mixture. Mushed cucumbers or something. Whatever it was, Meg had assured her it would help with the burning and itching, which was the only reason that Valoree had agreed to her slathering yet another concoction on her face. And actually, despite making her smell like a salad, the mixture
was
having a soothing effect on her skin. Ex
actly the opposite effect that Meg's words were having on her mind.

Valoree needed no help to see Thurborne's attractiveness. She had noticed that upon first meeting the man, but she wasn't generally impressed with the prettiness of a man's face. Unfortunately, she was seeing more and more about Daniel that was impressing her. He was a no-nonsense sort, who did not enslave himself to the present trend toward frilly, fluffy fashions; his waistcoats had almost a military cut to them, and there were no ridiculous ribbons on his knee breeches. She liked that. She thought the rest of the men looked like silly poodles.

He was also strong, obviously a man who used his body for more than posing or primping. She would not be at all surprised to learn that he had been chipping in physically to correct things at his family estate, which he claimed was in such disrepair. He had the shoulders of a workingman, not a dissolute landowner. He had a good sense of humor, and had made her laugh several times last night. Then, too, what other lord was likely to direct a woman to his fountain to have her wash off, then help her climb over his own wall to avoid having to pass back through his guests? He was a sharp thinker, too, and commanding—traits she possessed herself and could appreciate. And damned if he wasn't the finest kisser.

Of course, she reminded herself solemnly, mayhap every man kissed like that. But good Lord, her lips were still numb and tingling, not to mention the inner backs of her thighs where he had pressed those final kisses good-bye.

Aye, she'd like to see more of the man. She fancied she'd even pay a king's ransom to bed him, but marriage? Now that was another thing entirely, and she knew darned well that was the reason Meg was bringing him up. It was what all of her crew wanted—for
her to marry and get them their promised homes. So, of course, knowing the man was in the same position as herself, they would look to him as a prime candidate. Unfortunately, Valoree couldn't agree with them. She would not be ruled. And Thurborne was the ruling sort. Just look how he had not gone away and left her alone tonight! How he had not accepted her refusal to dance. Nay, he liked things his own way. Like her. And a ship just could not have two captains.

“Tell me something,” Valoree murmured now as Meg opened her mouth to comment again. Closing her mouth, the older woman raised her eyebrows questioningly, and Valoree asked, “Who are you?”

The woman stiffened, her eyes turning wary, and Valoree smiled. “I noticed tonight while you were talking to Lady Thurborne that you know quite a bit about Port Royale. You've been there.”

“Nay, I've just listened well,” Meg answered quickly. “Sailors will talk while in their cups.”

“You
have
been there,” Valoree insisted. “You know more about it than I. And you are of noble line-age, for all that you looked like a down-and-out prostitute when Bull found you. No prostitute could walk quite as stiffly or talk quite as precisely as you do. Now I'll ask you again, who are you?”

Meg glared at her silently for a moment, then shrugged indifferently. She turned away to clean up the mess she had made on the small table with her garden medley. “It does not matter. I was hired for a job and am performing it to the best of my ability. That is all you need know.”

“I fear I disagree with you.” Valoree stood to block her path as the woman tried to carry the bowl of remaining salve toward the door. She stared down at the suddenly nervous woman and said grimly, “If you are a lady and of the nobility, you may be recognized. Then our little tale of your being my aunt could be
ruined. I cannot risk that. Who are you?”

Meg hesitated, then turned around to drop her load back on the table. Wiping her hands on the apron she had donned over her gown, she sighed. “You are right, of course. I was born a lady. But you need not fear my being recognized. I left London twenty-seven years ago, married, and lived in the Caribbean. On a plantation even, so that would fit right in with the story we have passed around.”

“And your family?”

Her mouth tightened. “My husband died last fall. We had no children, as he could not father them. I have no family.”

Valoree heard the pain in Meg's voice at her admission and felt pity for a moment, but she tamped it down. Too many people were affected by this. She could not afford for pity to get in the way of her protecting the men who counted on her. “No parents? No brothers or sisters left here in London?” Her expression made Valoree's gaze narrow. “Which is it? A brother?”

“Sister.” She sighed miserably, her head lowering further. “But you need not fear her acknowledging me in any way. She…I…There was a rift.”

Valoree waited a moment, then sighed and moved back to her seat. Settling there, she gestured to the other chair as Meg glanced at her nervously. “You had best tell me all.”

Meg sat with resignation, then shrugged unhappily. “There is little to tell. I was young and thought I was in love. I did something foolish and found myself unmarried and with child.”

Valoree arched an eyebrow at that. “Why did your family not force a marriage?”

Meg shrugged. “My father probably would have, but I did not tell them. I did not wish the baby's father to be forced to marry me. He did not believe it was his,
anyway. He said if I had given myself so easily to him, how was he to know I was not so free with others?” She related her story as dispassionately as if telling the time of day, a sure sign to Valoree that it had been incredibly painful for her at the time.

“I fled to an empty cottage on the edge of an estate my parents owned,” Meg continued. “It was in the north. There I had the babe. It…it was born dead.” Her voice trembled, her hands twisting viciously at her apron. Taking a deep breath, she straightened and finished. “Because I'd fled, my reputation would be in tatters among the ton. It would be quite the scandal. I had to get away, so I caught a ship for the Caribbean, met my husband on it, and was married at sea the day before we landed in Port Royale. I lived there ever since and had absolutely no contact with my family in that time.”

Valoree peered at her silently, positive the woman was lying, or at least leaving something out, but unsure how to force it from her. Or if she even had a right to. If it did not affect her, or her men, she really had no need to know. But…“Your parents?”

“Dead.” The word was said without emotion. “They were both dead within ten years of my leaving.”

Valoree nodded slowly. “So this scandal is the reason you believe your sister, Lady Beecham, will not acknowledge you?”

“It is the reason I
know
she will not,” Meg snapped, then suddenly froze. Her eyes snapped up to Valoree's, wide with shock. “How did you—”

“She looks just like you,” Valoree explained. “She is thinner, meaner, and grayer mayhap, but I saw right away that she has the same features. I just needed something to make me realize it.” She paused. “I take it that is why you dragged the bottle to bed and made damn sure you would not have to attend her soiree?”

Turning pink, Meg nodded.

“Did you really drink it all? Or did you just swish a sip around in your mouth and splash some on yourself to make yourself look worse?”

The woman's eyes widened slightly. “How did you guess that?”

Valoree smiled. “Ladies do not drink rum, Meg. You made that clear at Whister's. I thought it odd that you had drunk it.”

“Oh, well, there was nothing else available. I had to nag Henry the next day to get him to bring in some brandy and such—just in case I needed another escape in the future.”

“Hmmm.” Valoree considered the situation, then glanced at her again. “And all the times on the ship when you appeared to be drinking or drunk?”

Meg bowed her head miserably. “The same. I splashed some rum on myself and pretended to be useless. I just wanted to be alone to think.”

Valoree accepted that silently. “Have you seen your sister since returning?”

“I have seen her from a distance, but I have not spoken with her,” Meg said carefully. “I had intended to avoid any functions it was likely she would attend, and—”

Valoree waved her to silence. “We shall deal with this problem if and when it arises. How did you end up as you were when Bull found you?”

Meg gave a dispirited sigh. “I was robbed. I had hired a hack at the docks to take me to a nice inn. He had loaded everything on top and was taking me to one when I spotted…a shop I wished to look in. I had him stop, went in to take a look around, and when I came out, he had just driven off with all my things.” She shook her head with disgust at the memory. “I never should have left the carriage. I should have just waited until I arrived at the inn—”

“Most likely you never would have arrived,” Valo
ree interrupted quietly. “It was probably lucky for you that you got out. You have to be careful about things like that. There are men just waiting to prey on women traveling alone. I heard a story of a similar incident the day we arrived in London. A well-bred woman arrived on a ship, hired a hack to take her and her servant to a relative's, and they never made it. The authorities found both women the next morning—dead. All their belongings had been taken, even the clothes off their back.”

Meg paled, her eyes going round with horror. To put her at ease, Valoree quickly asked, “So you were left without your things. How did your dress get ruined and—”

“Oh,” Meg interrupted irritably. “I…Well, I just started to walk. I did not know what to do. I was flustered by the fix I found myself in and did not pay enough attention to where I was headed. By the time I did, it was to find that I had made my way back toward the docks.” She grimaced and nodded at Valoree's shake of the head. “Aye, I know it was foolish of me. The area was horribly run-down. The smell alone…” She paused and shuddered, then sighed “Well, I realized my folly at once, and turned to head back the way I had come, but had barely done so when I was accosted.

“Right there, in broad daylight, two young ruffians grabbed me and started to drag me into an alley. I screamed, and they koshed me over the head. When I awoke, everything was gone: my jewelry, my cape, my reticule with the last of my money. They had left me lying in a pile of filth. I stank and my gown was ripped and filthy. I was woozy and weak. I could not see any injuries, but I could feel a large bump on the back of my head. I knew I needed help, and as frightened as I was to leave the relative safety of the abandoned alley where I had been left, my head ached horribly and I
feared if I allowed myself to lose consciousness, I would die there. I tried to get to my feet, but the world seemed to spin around me, so I had to half crawl, half drag myself out into the street. It was night by then and the streets were much less busy. Those people still walking about simply ignored my pleas for help. I'm sure they thought I was just what I looked like: a fallen woman. Then a couple of young nodcocks, as you would call them, came along. They were drunk and stumbling, and they assumed I was drunk as well. When I raised a hand toward them to plead for help, they thought it was a drink I wanted. They had some fine sport emptying their bottle over me and laughing at my pathetic state before moving on.

“The next person to come along was Bull,” she finished quietly. “By that time I was rather resigned to dying, but he stopped and seemed to look me over, then nodded to himself.

“‘How would you like a hand out of the gutter, old girl?' he asked. When I nodded dumbly, he picked me up and started walking, carrying me in his arms as he told me what he was about. ‘We need ye fer a job, a respectable-type job—chaperoning our captain. If you do it all right and proper, there's food, clothes, a place to stay, and a cottage of yer own at the end of it. Think you could play a lady?'”

She laughed with real amusement now and shook her head. “I am not even sure if I meant to help you at that point. I simply wished to get away from the docks at the time. I was still rather groggy, my head aching, while you and the dressmaker's wife bathed, dressed, and measured me. But in the morning, when I awoke on the ship, I thought it through. I had no money. No home. And from what I could tell, no family. A cottage of my own on an estate far away from court, with the beauty and peace of the country,
seemed a fine place for me to sit and reflect in my old age.”

“Aye, I suppose it is,” Valoree said, moved. She sighed. Here was another burden for her conscience, another soul whose future it seemed now depended on her.

“If I have answered all your questions,” Meg said, standing suddenly, “I think I shall just—”

“Go ahead.” Valoree sat back in her chair with a frown as Meg left the room. She had to get married. She had to regain Ainsley and get Henry his roses, Pete his own big kitchen, and Meg a home in which to settle. They all depended on her. Her mind raced, but she kept coming back to the gossips being her best hope. She simply could not bear another party—or any engagement that might result in another debacle regarding her makeup. She had no graces to attract a husband. If a straight-out call sent through the gossips did not work…well, she might just have to consider Thurborne.

 

“Good morning, Valoree. Your face is looking a bit better.”

Valoree grunted in response to Meg's comment as she entered the morning room. She knew by the expressions on her men's faces, and by what she had seen for herself upon awakening, that the woman was lying through her ladylike teeth. No doubt she was just trying to make Valoree feel better, but Valoree didn't much care how she looked; she had no balls to attend today. She was just relieved that the irritation had gone away.