Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (18 page)

Was that why she sometimes wished he’d take her in his arms and kiss her? Perhaps the trauma of the whole voyage was taking its toll upon her and she was losing her mind to even think such an absurd thing. She very nearly killed the man to keep him from touching her. Taking back her hand, she turned slightly away from him, not wanting him to see the play of thoughts upon her face. She felt certain that if he knew she might be weakening where he was concerned, he’d somehow use her weakness to his advantage.

“Hand me my shirt,” she heard him say. “I believe it’s time that I take over running my ship.”

“Do you feel up to it?” Bethlyn reached for the shirt and watched him fill the silky material with his massive shoulders.

“I’m quite well today.”

“I think you’ve been quite well the last few days and enjoy having me wait upon you.”

“Would I be so heartless as to do that?” he asked in such a wounded, innocent tone of voice that she nearly laughed.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Since he was well now, she decided she wouldn’t have to wait upon him any longer. “Yes, you would.”

Walking towards the door, Hawk stopped and waited for her. “Come along, Beth. Your punishment has not ended.”

“But I thought when you were well again and could captain your ship…”

“You know, Beth, that’s your problem. You think too much for a woman and assume things you shouldn’t. I said I was better today, but I’m far from recovered.” He bowed and held the door for her. “Shall we go?”

Her eyes flared into beams of killing light If she had a knife in her hands at that moment, she’d have gladly run him through again. “Everyone will assume I’m your woman,” she stammered, unaware that her flushed face looked becomingly pretty.

“Don’t worry what they believe. They already think you belong to me, so you’re old gossip now.”

From the murderous look she shot him, Hawk threw back his head and laughed, seemingly very much aware of how much she hated him and would love to finish him off.

A cool, pleasant morning greeted them. Able-bodied seamen diligently tended to their duties. To Bethlyn’s surprise, not one of them lecherously eyed her or made a ribald comment. For the whole morning she followed behind Hawk as Crane and Sparrow briefed him about what had happened during the time he was ill. All of the men spoke warmly to him, and Hawk took an interest in each of them and their jobs, asking questions, giving suggestions. Bethlyn almost forgot she was aboard a privateer ship, and not one of the first-class ships of Briston Shipping. She sincerely doubted that any of her father’s captains possessed the same trust and confidence of their men.

It was this blind obedience and respect for Hawk which led Bethlyn to believe that the
Black Falcon
was never in any danger of mutiny. No doubt the man had lied to her to gain her compliance in acting as a servant to him. He probably knew she’d never be able to live with herself if the crew mutinied and feared she’d be turned over to the men for their less than honorable use of her body.

Rage washed over her. From Hawk’s vantage point in the crow’s nest, she made certain he noticed her withering, hate-filled gaze. When he scurried down a half hour later, he stopped before her and pointed to a cup which rested on a barrel of water. ‘‘I’d like a drink, Beth.”

“Get it yourself.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me, Captain.” Tossing her hair in a gesture of defiance, she stared him down. “I don’t care what you do with me, but I won’t be your slave any longer. You lied about a possible mutiny only to keep me in line. You wanted to humiliate me for what I’d done to you, to cause me to suffer indignities. Then I suppose you’d have expected me to crawl into your bed out of a sense of guilt or shame. Well, I won’t do anything else for you ever again.” She clenched her fists by her sides. “Go on. Lock me in that little room again. I don’t care. I don’t feel guilty for … hurting you.”

Hawk stepped closer to her, his breath on her cheek, and she shivered. The eyes which had filled with passion earlier that morning were now frozen and contained not a hint of warmth. “Never be it said that I forced you to wait on me, to atone for your crime, Beth. So you won’t believe that I’m an ogre, I release you from your punishment. To prove that I’m sincere, I shall allow you to remain in the cabin next to mine. Is this fair to you?”

She didn’t know what to think about this man. He could banish her to the bowels of the ship; instead, he was allowing her to remain where she was. But at what cost?

“I … don’t want you to touch me, or any of your men to touch me.”

“I give you my word as a gentleman that no one will touch you without your say-so.”

This was so confusing to her, and she didn’t know whether to believe him, but the man was giving her what she wanted. So why didn’t she feel pleased about this turn of events?

He formally bowed and, with a turn of his heels, he stalked away from her.

~ ~ ~

That evening Bethlyn possessed little appetite for food. Sparrow appeared in her cabin, standing just inside the doorway which separated hers from Hawk’s. She didn’t care for the fact that there was only one door to this cabin, and the only way out was through Hawk’s room. She’d have liked to wander on deck, but she remembered the raised eyebrows of the crew that afternoon during her altercation with Hawk. Apparently, everyone had heard them.

“You ain’t ate nothin’,” Sparrow chided and shook his head. “That fish was the best I ever fixed. I don’t take lightly to havin’ my food left uneaten.”

Bethlyn offered an apology for her lack of appetite. “I promise to eat tomorrow. I’ve lost my appetite today.”

“More than likely you’re upset ‘cause you lost Captain Hawk.”

“How dare you say such a thing to me! I thought you were my friend. I can see you’re no better than that arrogant, pompous captain you serve. I never had Captain Hawk, and I never wanted him. I hate him.”

“Sure, miss,” he agreed, a pleasant but unconvinced smile on his face. “Still, I think you’re clever enough to find a way to hold his interest. But be warned that Hawk likes women willing … real willing, if you understand my meaning.” Sparrow picked up her tray and left the cabin.

“Willing, is it? Bethlyn muttered aloud. “I’ll never come willingly to that bounder. I detest him, abhor him.”

Finished with her verbal tirade, she flung herself onto the bunk. The sun had just set, and the cabin was bathed in a pale light. She realized that this was the first time in three days she’d gotten to bed before midnight. A small smile of satisfaction played about her lips. This was one night she’d be able to sleep and not have to play the docile servant for Hawk. Before long, she fell asleep, but was roused from slumber by a woman’s high-pitched laugh.

Opening her eyes, Bethlyn realized that the hour was late. The moon outside her tiny window was perched high in the sky. For a moment, she wondered if she’d been dreaming, but when she heard the woman’s laugh again, this time mingling with the masculine timbre of a man’s, the sudden jump of her heart told her she was wide-awake. The voices came from Hawk’s cabin, and without a doubt she recognized Hawk’s laugh.

I don’t care who he has in his cabin, she staunchly told herself and chewed on her lower lip. She wanted to fall back to sleep, but she found she couldn’t. Their laughter was filled with something other than mirth, and she recognized the huskiness in Hawk’s voice as low conversation drifted through the wall.

“Damn him to hell!” she declared softly and placed her hands over her ears. She didn’t wish to hear him and his lady love, not certain who the woman with Hawk might be until she heard the woman’s voice again and knew he was with the doxy called Della.

An emotion, not unlike jealousy, ate away at her to imagine Hawk with Della. However, she convinced herself she didn’t care that he entertained the woman. She forced down the envy, reminding herself how much she hated the man, and therefore, she didn’t care what he did or with whom he did it.

It was the sudden silence which undid her. Sitting up, her long hair streaming down her back, she found herself listening, scarcely breathing. Nothing.

Getting off the bunk, on silent feet she made her way to the heavy, planked door and put her ear against the wood. Still, she heard nothing. A blush consumed her entire body to suddenly wonder at what might be happening in that room. Images of Della in Hawk’s arms,·of their kissing each other, of the way he’d lower himself upon her, burying his face within those dark tresses and then his manhood into Della’s eager body, brought unexpected and unwanted tears of pain and humiliation to her eyes.

Never in her life would she forget how Hawk looked when undressed. Over the past days she’d nursed him, cared for him, bathed him. Of course she knew he was most capable of performing these tasks for himself and she told herself he took delight in his punishment of her. Yet, she didn’t want to admit how much she enjoyed tending to him — touching him. She was most careful not to touch that part of him, but, nevertheless, she had wanted to discover how he’d feel within her palm. Now she’d never know. Della knew. And for the first time in her life, Bethlyn cradled her head in her arms and sobbed her disappointment.

~ ~ ~

 “Another night,” Hawk told Della and kissed her on the lips.

Della sighed, not hiding her aggravation. “You didn’t put me out because of that ‘other one,’ did you? I don’t take lightly to being sent on my way after I done got you lathered up for me. If you think I’m one to be tossed aside after I’ve got you bothered so you can spill yourself within that haughty bitch…”

Hawk laughed and playfully patted her on her rounded bottom. The crisp sea air stirred the dark wisps of Della’s hair, and the moonlight accentuated the beauty of her face. Only minutes ago, they’d been on the bunk in his cabin while Della ably handled his flesh and excited him. Truly, she was well versed in her trade. He’d have turned her on her back and entered her willing, moist body, but a slight sound from the cabin next to his had caught his attention. He remembered Beth, and a bittersweet feeling rushed over him, compounded by anger. The little bitch once again had invaded his thoughts.

He’d looked at Della, lying on top of him, and he realized that the dark hair spilling across his chest wasn’t honey colored, that the lustful blue eyes smiling into his weren’t a soft shade of brown. Though Beth was in his mind, her image was suddenly displaced by the faded memory of another face altogether, a child’s sick face, and he found he couldn’t go on.

So now he stood on deck with Della, and reaching into the pocket of his linen shirt, he handed her a guinea.

“This should compensate you for your time, Della.” Della’s eyes grew round and bright, her anger dying away. “But I didn’t finish with you…”

“As I told you, I have some duties which must be performed. But, my voluptuous wench, expect that you shall indeed ‘finish with me’ soon.” Hawk winked at her.

“Oh, Captain, I can’t wait,” she whispered and suggestively rubbed her breasts against him. “I ain’t never pleasured a man with a mask before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he told her and hoped that this would be the first and last time he put a willing woman from his bed.

~ ~ ~

 “He treats her shabbily,” Mavis complained to Crane that same night. She sat in his bunk, the sheet pulled up to her breasts, and her long dark hair cascaded around her shoulders like a waterfall. Her face was flushed with their recent lovemaking and she made a fetching and most provocative sight. “All day long he forces her to trail after him like a puppy and at night to sleep with him.”

“She isn’t sleeping with him,” Crane reminded her. “Beth sleeps in the cabin next to his.”

“It’s almost the same thing.”

Crane leaned over and kissed her on her ruby-colored mouth. “My love, you know it isn’t.”

Mavis grinned up at him and placed her arms around his neck. She sighed her contentment and returned the kiss. “I know what you mean, but, darling, you must see it from Beth’s point of view. She isn’t used to this sort of treatment.”

A frown furrowed his brow and he stood up, handsome in his nakedness, and pulled on a robe. “Mavis, I don’t understand this whole situation between you and Beth. If you two girls aren’t doxies, then why were you both on
Nightingale
?”

Mavis shook her head. “I can’t tell you that. Don’t ask me again.”

“You still don’t trust me, even after I’ve removed my mask when we’re alone.”

Crane sounded hurt, and Mavis instantly got up and went to him, tenderly touching his face and gazing into warm, loving eyes. “You’re loyal to Hawk. I can’t tell you, because we may all be better off if you don’t pursue the matter. Please trust me, Crane. For now. After all, you’ve never told me who you truly are. I’m not certain you don’t intend to cast me aside when we land.”

Uncertainty filled her eyes, and Crane pulled her against him and nuzzled her neck. “I love you, Mavis. We’re going to be married. Trust me.”

“I love you, too.”

He tipped her face up to his. “After we reach Philadelphia, and I settle you there, I’ll tell you everything about me. But that’s all I can tell you. There’s nothing I can tell you about Hawk at the present time.”