Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (50 page)

She gulped back a sob, and Ian gathered her closer to him while he looked into her eyes. “Bethlyn, I love you, love you. A child would be wonderful, but when the time is right, God will grant us this gift. You haven’t failed me. Perhaps I’m the cause of your inability to conceive.”

“Oh, no,” she quickly disagreed. “Not you, never you. You’re so virile and masculine that the fault must lie with me. My father said—”

“Forget your father! The man was wrong about many things, and I don’t want to know what he said. He was wrong not to love you, but I’ll make up to you for all those years he ignored you, and for the ones I had a bride and didn’t care. God, Bethlyn, I love you more than life itself. I want you to conceive our child, but I want you more.” His mouth moved to her lips. “I know something we can do.” His voice sounded silky smooth.

“What?” she asked, already seeming to know.

“We can practice making a baby until we get it right.”

“Hmm, I’ve always heard that practice makes perfect.”

“Let’s see if there’s truth in that old saying.” With that, he brought her atop him, and she immediately straddled his thighs. Her body was ripe and ready for him, and within seconds, he slipped effortlessly inside her.

“I’d like to practice a long time tonight,” Bethlyn whispered thickly, her body catching fire.

“Ah, my dove, nothing would give me greater pleasure.” And nothing would.

~ ~ ~

 “I’ll be gone for a few months, Marc, so I’ll leave the company in your care during my absence. Remember to contact Eli Templet about that matter I briefed you on the other day.”

Marc nodded and stood up, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he waited before Ian’s desk. He looked less than thrilled. “I wish I was going with you.”

“Mavis needs you. You should be with your wife at this time, not off sailing the seas with me.”

“God, but I miss the
Black Falcon
!”

“So do I, but within the week I’ll be at Windhaven, ready to set sail. The sea is in my blood, and I’ve been away for too long.” Anticipation glowed on Ian’s face.

“What about Bethlyn?” Marc asked. “How will she take this decision to leave?”

Ian grinned. “She’s coming with me.”

“How did she talk you into that?”

“She didn’t. I asked her. I guess I’m just smitten with my wife and can’t bear to leave her for too long a time. Needless to say, she’ll remain on Windhaven when I take out the ship.”

Marc regarded him with a bit of awe. “So the notorious and fearsome Captain Hawk has finally been tamed.”

“Seems that way,” Ian capitulated and flashed a smile. “Now if only I can tame my rebellious bride.”

~ ~ ~

Informing the house servants that they were going on an extended holiday, Bethlyn and Ian sailed away from Philadelphia on the
Bethlyn B
. with a skeleton crew of Hawk’s most loyal men.

With the wind blowing in their faces, and their hearts filled with the exhilaration of love, they clung to each other and watched the setting sun bathe the island of Windhaven in brilliant golds and reds as the ship drew nearer to land that afternoon.

Ian met her gaze, and his face was filled with strength and an inner peace. “We’ve come through troubled waters, but nothing can harm us ever again, Bethlyn. Nothing and no one can hurt or separate us.”

Though he’d soon leave her to take out the
Black Falcon
, risking his life for his country, Bethlyn somehow knew he would return, and unsurpassed joy burst within her.

Leaning against him, she raised her head and looked into the eyes of the man she loved more than her own life and said, “We’ll be together always. Forever.”

A dark cloud suddenly appeared and skidded across the sky, but Ian and Bethlyn were unaware of it. Their attention was centered on each other.

24

Thomas Eversley rammed himself into the woman who writhed beneath him on the bed. Instantly he spilled into her, so overcome by the notion that he made love to Bethlyn Briston that he lost control of himself. But all too soon he opened his eyes and reality intruded. The woman staring up at him didn’t possess brown eyes whose centers were rimmed with gold. He saw not Bethlyn but Grace, a young woman he’d picked up off a London street and taken back to Woodsley in the carriage which bore the Earl of Dunsmoor’s coat of arms.

Rolling off her, he didn’t bother to stifle his groan of disappointment at his bed partner, unwillingly recalling how the wench had gazed in awe at the lavishly appointed interior of the carriage. Her awe was nothing in comparison to her astonishment when her eyes beheld Woodsley. “I’m really going to stay here with you?” she’d asked as he led her to one of the many lavishly appointed guest rooms. He’d told her she’d stay as long as she did what she was told, advising her that anything she wanted, whether clothes or food, would be hers. She had only to ask. However, she must please him in all ways.

Thomas shifted to his side, silently admitting that Grace did please him only because she resembled Bethlyn and eased his physical needs. He’d been more than astonished and happy to discover that Grace was a virgin when he took her, and this somehow endeared her to him. He never questioned her about her past or even if she had a family. He didn’t want to know anything about her, caring only that she avail herself to him when his thoughts centered on the Earl’s daughter. But now he was growing restless and bored with Grace for the same reason he’d originally bedded her. She wasn’t Bethlyn Briston,

“You were wonderful,” Grace said, and snuggled near to him.

“We should see to our guests.” Thomas rose from the bed and began to dress, missing the flicker of hurt which passed across her face. “I want you to be especially nice to Lord Detweiller. His purse is very large, and he is known for his generosity to beautiful women.”

Grace sat up in alarm, her eyes wide. “But, Thomas, you told me I’m not like the other women here. I don’t want to be nice to him, as you say. I only want to belong to you.”

“And you do, pet.” He stroked her cheek, his touch calming her. “I would prefer the women I bed not to have lain with too many men. Sexual diseases are repugnant, and I dread contracting one. However, you can be accommodating to men in other ways, Grace. Men like Lord Detweiller, who have a preference for variety in their lovemaking, want something a bit more stimulating and will pay handsomely for a woman to please them in a way their prim and proper wives will not.”

Thomas stopped speaking for a second and traced her lips with his fingertips. “Your mouth is lovely and finely made. I’m certain you’ll please His Lordship with the special talent you reserve for me.”

Grace immediately understood and tensed. “I’ll do whatever you want, Thomas, but I won’t like it.”

“As long as you do it well, my dear.”

While he dressed, he stood by the window and glanced down at the garden and grounds below him. Superbly dressed men and fashionably attired young ladies strolled prettily in the springtime sun, sipping champagne and eating canapés presented to them by well-trained servants. Mentally he calculated how much richer he’d be after dark. That was when all of the young ladies would parade into the sumptuous drawing room where the Earl and his wife had entertained in grand style at one time.

Thomas couldn’t help but to smirk at the look of horror on the earl’s face if the man rose from his grave and saw what changes had been wrought at his beloved Woodsley. The house and grounds were still unbelievably beautiful, but Thomas had added gambling in the ballroom and turned the drawing room into an auction room of sorts.

Each evening wealthy and titled gentlemen traveled from London or other distant cities to partake in a game of faro and then to bid on the beauty of his choice. Thomas wondered why he hadn’t thought of such a delightful and easy way to increase revenue sooner. Grace had mentioned the auction part to him, having read about how the barbaric Americans auctioned off their slaves. She made some sort of a comment about how awful that must be for the women, and, thus, the idea took root in Thomas’s brain.

He’d enlisted the help of Bartholomew Perkins, his able secretary, to search for the most beautiful and willing women he could find. Within a matter of days, Perkins appeared at Woodsley with twenty women, and Thomas slapped the man on the back, declaring he had wonderful taste where beauty was concerned. Of course many of them were young, some no older than fourteen, having lived most of their lives in abject poverty and brutality. A few looked wretched as they stood in Woodsley’s drawing room in their raggedy clothes and patted down strands of hair which hadn’t been washed in months, maybe even years. Others were from decent but financially strapped families, but Thomas had a keen and perceptive eye. Once these girls were thoroughly washed and dressed and tutored in the art of conversation and manners, any man, be he a duke or a prince, would pay a high price to bed them.

Some old crone of a serving woman had refused to follow Thomas’s orders to clean them and see to their rooms. His fist on her face turned her into a most docile creature. He had Grace explain to them what was required, and no one expressed horror or outrage. Evidently these girls had had some experience with men, because after they’d been auctioned off to the highest bidders that first time, Thomas heard no complaints from them or from the esteemed gentlemen they serviced.

The general public didn’t know what happened at Woodsley. Only the richest and most discreet gentlemen, those with a penchant for unusual entertainment and a hefty purse, ever entered Woodsley’s doors. Woodsley had been transformed into a high-class brothel for two months now, but the money garnered from this enterprise had already made Thomas into a very wealthy man. No matter that he’d forced the earl to sign over all of his holdings and wealth to him, Thomas could never get enough money.

When he went downstairs his manservant informed him that a gentleman waited in the study for him. “He doesn’t seem to know about what goes on here, sir,” the servant whispered.

“Who is he?”

“Sir Jeremy Smithers.”

Thomas didn’t suppress his groan. Milksop Smithers, the grandson of Penelope Evans, wanted to speak with him. God, what now? Thomas wondered. But a spark of hope ignited in him that if Jeremy had returned, then Bethlyn might have come back also.

Without hesitating further, Thomas greeted Jeremy and offered him a seat.

“I suppose you’ve heard about
Nightingale
,” Jeremy said and placed his hands on his knees.

Thomas nodded. “I was informed that the ship was captured. You seem no worse for wear, considering the ordeal. How is Lady Bethlyn? Shall I see her soon?”

“When I last saw her, she was fine and quite happy in the arms of her husband. Bethlyn and Ian Briston are very much in love with each other.”

“How nice.” Thomas was far from pleased over this news. He’d expected Briston to send Bethlyn back to London post haste, already having divorced or annulled the marriage. Then Thomas would be free to pursue the girl and marry her. Thomas couldn’t stand thinking about Bethlyn with that barbaric colonial.

“I would like to speak with the earl and tell him how Bethlyn fares,” Jeremy told him.

Thomas turned a concerned face to Jeremy. “I should like to grant your request, son, but the earl isn’t up to seeing guests. His health varies from day to day. And today is one of his poorer days.”

“But what about all of the people who are here? I know a great many of the men, but the women are strangers to me. If the earl is ill, then why does he have guests milling about the place?”

Thomas silently cursed Jeremy for his probing questions. Why didn’t the milksop return to his grandmother and leave things alone? He hid his aggravation behind a polished but cool smile. “They were invited before he took ill. He expressed his dismay over his illness, but he wants the gentlemen and ladies to enjoy themselves.”

Jeremy didn’t question Thomas, because he knew that Nathaniel Talbot had been ill for some time, but he didn’t trust Thomas Eversley,

“Now, Jeremy, my lad, I hate to cut short our conversation, but I must look after the earl’s guests.”

Jeremy stood up, and Thomas took him by the elbow, literally steering the young man from the room and into the entrance hall, “I do hope you visit again,” Thomas told him, and shook his hand.