The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (24 page)

“We are
not
betrothed.” She made sure her tone allowed for no argument. For both their sakes.

He looked away. Damn the fickle moon playing shadows across his face. She wished she was able to see into his eyes. What was he thinking? What brought him to her bedchamber?

Suddenly the breath went out of her and her shoulders slumped. She looked down at her
fingers plucking at a loose thread on her blanket. She was forever plagued with that which she could not have. A father who loved her. A mother who would love her enough to stay alive. And now a man so far out of her reach it was laughable.
If
she was reaching, that is. Because she definitely wasn’t.

“I can’t marry you,” she said, softly, almost sadly.

“I know.” His voice was just as soft. Dare she hope, as desolate?

“It would never work.”

“I agree.” Still, he wouldn’t look at her. What was he thinking?

“I’m a pirate and you’re the brother of an earl.”

All arguments she’d told herself repeatedly and yet, when she said them out loud, she wanted to refute them.

He straightened in the chair. “Tell me about Peter Lansing.”

The change of subject left her disconcerted for a moment. She’d been thinking of betrothals and marriage, and he’d been thinking of Lansing? Well, of course he had. Lansing was the reason they were pretending to be betrothed in the first place.
Pretending, Emmaline, don’t forget that
.

“What about him?” She’d thought a lot about Lansing since their encounter this afternoon, and what she would do once he discovered she was not marrying Nicholas. She had yet to come up with a plan not involving dismemberment or death.

“I need to know what we’re up against.”

“There is no we, Nicholas.
We
are not a couple, and
you
are not my keeper. I can fight my own battles.”

He finally looked at her, but still she couldn’t see his eyes. His face was set, though, in the look that told her he would argue this to the death. “We are a couple, Emmaline. At least in Peter Lansing’s eyes. And I’ve never indicated I was your keeper. If anything, it’s been the other way around.”

“You’re free to go whenever you want.”

“Maybe I can’t,” he whispered.

What the hell did he mean?

“Tell me about Lansing,” he said again.

Had she truly heard him say he couldn’t leave her? Is that what he meant? Or was her mind playing tricks? Hearing things not really said? “He’s a fool. I fear I’m surrounded by them.”

His lips lifted at the corners. Not a full smile, but close. “I may be a fool, but I’m not dangerous. Peter Lansing is dangerous.”

“Aren’t you dangerous?” Her words fell between them, surrounded by silence. His dark eyes stared at her, probing, contemplative.

“I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” But she didn’t know. She feared Captain Nicholas Addison would hurt her in far worse ways than her father ever had.

He’d ripped her apart, never to be put back together so she could be the woman she’d been before they met. Yes, he was most definitely a danger to her, but she feared he might have already done the most damage.

“He believes he has feelings for me,” she said. “Some other woman will eventually come along and catch his attention, and he will forget about me.”

His look told her he didn’t believe her. “How long has he had these feelings?”

She waved her hand in the air. “Peter Lansing is nothing but a nuisance. I’ve faced far worse.”

“I’m sure you have.”

Silence stretched between them while he stared at her in the brooding way that made her uncomfortable. “Is it worth it?” he asked. “Your revenge?”

“Yes.” Yes, it was worth it. She needed to see her father punished for what he did to her mother, and for what he did to her. And although they might not deserve it, she wanted to see her father’s other family punished as well. They had the love and support of a husband and father,
while she had to live without. “You don’t approve?”

“It’s not my place to approve, and I fear you don’t need my approval. Or anyone’s, for that matter.”

“No.” She’d searched for approval long ago, and was rejected. She’d vowed never to seek anyone else’s approval, and to live her life the way she saw fit—not the way someone else saw fit.

“What is between you and Phin?”

Lord, but the man was full of questions tonight.

“Nothing is between me and Phin.”

He raised a brow and she sighed.

“At one time, years ago, we thought we had feelings for each other. We attempted …” She waved her hand in the air, suddenly embarrassed by the thought of the kisses she and Phin had shared. Child’s play compared to the kisses she’d shared with Nicholas. “It didn’t work. We found we were far better suited as friends than anything else. We’re both too strong-willed to be anything else.”

“He still has feelings for you.”

Emmaline laughed quietly. “You’re mistaken, I’m sure.”

“Don’t be so certain.”

She laughed again, although this time not as forcefully. Phin was protective of her, always had been. But that was because they were partners and the greatest of friends. Not because he still harbored feelings for her.

“I wish you well, Emmaline.”

Her head jerked up and she stared at him through those moonbeams. His words had sounded too final. Her stomach heaved and panic replaced all of her other emotions. “You’re leaving.”

“I can’t stay here, surely you know that.”

“What will you tell Kenmar?”

He looked away, and his silence told her more than words ever could. Surprisingly, she wasn’t disappointed. She would have been more disappointed if he hadn’t told Kenmar, because Nicholas Addison wasn’t one to lie or deceive. Keeping her secret from Kenmar would have gone against everything inside him.

“I have to complete my mission,” he said.

“Of course you do.”

He leaned forward, reaching for her hand, then letting his drop before they made contact.

She wanted to cry out, to grab his hand and hold tight.

“Don’t do it, Emmaline.”

“Don’t do what? Attack Blackwell’s ships? You’re asking the impossible.”

“Am I? He doesn’t even know it’s you attacking him. How is that revenge?”

“
I
know.”

“You’ll hang.”

“Only if I’m caught.”

He reached for her hand again but this time he didn’t stop. His fingers curled around hers, and she had to resist the urge to cling to him.

“Please,” he whispered. “Make me understand.”

Her anger surged anew. Yes, he was honorable and honest, but he was also opinionated and arrogant, believing his way was always the right way, when he knew
nothing
about her life.

“How can you possibly understand? You who had the love of both parents?”

“Don’t assume things about me.” His voice turned hard, tinged with enough pain that she kept quiet. “Yes, my parents loved me, and yes they provided a wonderful life for me, but it hasn’t always been roses. My parents both died of a fever that swept through London when my sister and I were young. They left my brother, Sebastian, holding the reins of the family when he was barely eighteen years old. We have had our tragedies as well, Emmaline.”

Chastised, she remained quiet. Sometimes she was so thick-skulled that it took a cudgel to the head to make her see sense. “My apologies. Sometimes I can’t see beyond my own nose.”

He let out a gusty sigh. “No need to apologize. Of course your life has been tough. But you had your mother and your aunt.”

“I had a mother obsessed with my father. Who continually believed he would return to her. I had an aunt who tried her best, but was only able to do so much with a child whose noble blood was mixed with a workingman’s blood. I was like a doll, dressed up and paraded about, then tossed in the corner, forgotten, or worse, ignored. I was not of my aunt’s world and not of my father’s world.”

“And so you want to ruin him? Will that give you the recognition you crave?”

“He stole my childhood. And he stole my dreams.”

“He’s merely a man, not a demon.”

“Isn’t he?” She laughed, the sound harsh in the cocoon of darkness. “There are real-life demons in this world, Addison.”

He squeezed her fingers gently. “Pirating is wrong.”

She yanked her hand away. “And leaving your wife and daughter is right? Sailing to the colonies and marrying another woman
while you’re still married
is right?”

He didn’t answer her, but she didn’t give him time to answer, either. Everything poured out of her—the frustration and anger of a lifetime.

“I hate your stupid laws and rules. A woman must obey her marriage vows while her husband sails to another continent and weds another.”

“Surely, your mother had some recourse—”

“Surely, she did. If she had the money. But my grandfather left her destitute. So excuse me if I frown upon the laws you regard so highly.” She waved her hand in the air, and her shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t find out about his other family until after my mother was dead. By then, it probably wouldn’t have mattered to the courts.”

“Pirating isn’t the answer.”

He wouldn’t see, refused to see, her side. She should stop arguing, but she couldn’t seem to.

“When James Sutherland took me off the ship and handed me a sword, I felt at home for the first time. Those pirates you hate so much are the only people who accepted me, unconditionally. They’re the only family I have, and the only family I ever want. There is no pretense with them. They say what they mean and mean what they say. They don’t whisper behind a person’s back.”

“No, they’ll run a sword through your back.”

“Better a sword than words. A sword is more honest.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe—”

“It’s not up to you to believe or accept or approve.”

“Let me talk to Kenmar, explain the situation to him. I’m sure he would understand and help.”

“Listen to you, Nicholas. You speak of destroying Blackwell as if your means of destruction is better and more noble than mine, when in both cases the end result is the same. Only you feel better about yours because it’s not as bloody, and it doesn’t involve pirates.”

He stared at her for a moment, then sat back, his jaw tight. “Maybe you’re right, but I still don’t believe pirating is the answer.”

She laid her head back and looked at him. “Return to England and tell Kenmar and the king, and whoever else you feel you need to tell what a horrible person I am. But know this, Captain Addison.
Nothing
will stop me from righting this wrong.”

Nicholas sat high on a hill overlooking the port, elbows on knees, eyes squinting against the already bright sun. A half hour before, the HMS
Challenger
glided out of the harbor on her way to England. Without him.

He threw down the stick he’d been shredding and made a disgusted sound. He was an idiot. A full-fledged idiot.

He should be on that ship bound for his homeland. Instead he sat on an island he’d heretofore only read about, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

Where did his plans go awry?

The answer was simple and complex. His plans went awry the moment he stepped into Emmaline’s bedchamber, the night before. He hadn’t made a conscious decision to visit her in the middle of the night. At least not a conscious decision he remembered. Suddenly he was there and she was sleeping, and thoughts and emotions swamped him. He wanted to crawl into bed with her and make love to her.

Watching her sleep had been one of the most profound experiences of his life. Asleep she was simply a woman. There were no sparring words, no tension.

She was beautiful with her hair spread across the pillow, and her face relaxed in slumber. His reaction had been nearly violent. He wanted her with an intensity he’d never felt for another woman. He desperately wanted her to lift those bedsheets and invite him in, and at the same time he desperately wanted her to put her trust in him, because earning her trust was far more significant than bedding her.

Then the pirate in her prodded her awake, and he knew if he didn’t say something she would run him through with the damn stiletto, because she didn’t trust him.

Maybe it’d been the darkness, or the intimate atmosphere, or the insanity of his feelings. Maybe it’d been the ale, or seeing Lansing’s hands on her. Nicholas wasn’t sure why he made
the ill-fated decision to stay in the chair, but suspected it was a combination of all of that, including curiosity.

He wanted to dissect why Emmaline Blackwell chose to become Lady Anne.

Her first response was everything he’d suspected. Revenge was a powerful emotion. Add hatred to the mix and you had a potent combination that would motivate anyone.

What did surprise him, what gave him pause, was her deeper reason. Yes, she wanted revenge—perfectly understandable—but what he’d never considered was that being a woman, and a woman without means, she had no other recourse. Her mother would have had to prove Daniel Blackwell was not only an adulterer, but that he was also physically abusive, and the abuse had to be excessive and life-threatening.

Knowing what he knew about Emmaline’s mother, she’d maintained hope until the very end that her husband would return to her, and would most likely not have even considered reporting his adultery.

And if she had?

Nothing would have been done about it. The laws were certainly one-sided, favoring men over women. If Emmaline’s mother had been the adulterer, the law would have been in favor of Daniel Blackwell.

So Emmaline took matters into her own hands and evened the odds by becoming a pirate. If the law wouldn’t punish him she would.

After leaving Emmaline’s bedchamber, he’d spent the night on her porch overlooking the dark waters of the Caribbean, stone-cold sober and wishing he was falling-down drunk.

Everything he’d believed about himself had been turned upside down. He’d always viewed women as fragile creatures with limited brainpower who needed a strong man to guide them. He’d always considered himself that strong man. All his life, he’d lived in a simplistic world of black and white, with few gray areas.