The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (35 page)

“ ’Tis not abhorrent.” The words slipped from her before she was able to stop them, but ’twas the truth she spoke. If she would have ever considered marriage, Nicholas Addison would be her first choice. In the right circumstances, they would have had a wonderful marriage, with black-haired, mischievous-eyed children and a happy home. But these weren’t the right circumstances and she wasn’t one to believe in happily ever after.

“Then what is it?”

She snatched her hand away from him. “What is good about any of this?” she cried out. “You are a member of the nobility. Your brother is an earl, you’re a viscount and I’m wanted by the Crown.”

“No, you’re not.”

She sat back with a huff. “The Crown is no doubt searching for the person responsible for Blackwell’s mishaps, and that is me. What you did tonight was dangerous, and social suicide. You married a pirate.”

“I married the Widow Sutherland, wife of James Sutherland, a privateer who was also landed gentry.”

She wanted to growl in frustration at his naiveté. Surely he wasn’t that dense. “That is not who I am. I am Lady Anne. Or as Lansing put it, ‘the
notorious
Lady Anne.’ I am deadly to you, Nicholas. Can’t you see?”

“Only if you’re caught.”

“The odds of me being caught are very, very high.”

He sat forward, putting himself so close she had to move back. “My name will protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Not against the Crown. Kenmar is close to my brother and not a bad sort. He’s simply frustrated because he’s losing money.”

“Because your wife is
stealing
his money.”

He moved back against the seat cushions. Silence settled on them like the thick fogs that wrapped her ships in secrecy.

“What now?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what now? You told Lansing we were leaving. Did you speak the truth?”

“Can the ships be prepared by tomorrow?”

“It depends on which tide you’re sailing on. The morning? No. The evening tide?” She shrugged, her helplessness weighing her down. “Mayhap.”

“Do you have enough provisions to get you through?”

She looked at him sharply. He did not refer to himself. Did that mean he wasn’t leaving with her? Was that it, then? He wed her to then leave her? Like her father did to her mother? Her
heart twisted at the comparison, but she refused to pursue it. If he left, ’twould be for the best. She didn’t want him in her life. Couldn’t afford to have him in her life. They could easily go their separate ways. It wasn’t as if she’d want to marry later in life. He could petition for a divorce if need be. ’Twas much easier for a man to do than a woman.

“We have enough to get to another island where we can always purchase what we need.”

“And your crew?”

“They won’t be a problem. They’re used to weighing anchor with little notice.”

“Then we leave on the evening tide.”

“We?”

“We, Emmaline.” There was a smile to his voice. She pictured the white flash of teeth, the amusement in his eyes. “My wife will not sail without me.”

The image vanished. Already he was exerting his control over her, telling her what she could and could not do. Exactly what she feared would happen. But he had another thing coming if he thought to stop her from ruining Daniel Blackwell. In this, she would not be deterred.

Nicholas stood to the side as Emmaline issued orders to Phin, Cook, Clarence and Shamus. She was magnificent, still dressed in her emerald gown, her face flushed, her hair half-falling out of the pins. She was a leader, no doubt about it. The men followed her every command, offering comments here and there, but always deferring to her.

She was also furious with him, evidenced by the fact she’s barely spoken to him since they’d entered the house, and hadn’t looked at him in the last hour. Sensing her anger, Phin occasionally looked from one of them to the other, but he was busy with plans to prepare the ship come morning. They’d wanted to start the preparations this night, but a hell of a storm raged outside.

Nicholas could hardly believe she was his wife. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the rash action. The look on Peter Lansing’s face had been priceless, and almost worth tying himself to Emmaline Sutherland—nay, Emmaline Addison—for eternity. But one-upping Peter Lansing wasn’t the reason Nicholas wed Emmaline.

She straightened from the desk and the maps she and Phin were discussing, and rubbed the small of her back with a grimace.

Enough was enough. The sun was a few hours from rising, and there wasn’t much else they could accomplish until the storm passed. Nicholas stepped out of the shadows. “I think it’s time everyone turned in and got some sleep. We have a long day come morning.”

Defiance flashed in her eyes, followed by a tightening of her lips. Phin looked from Emmaline to Nicholas.

“We all have packing to do,” Emmaline said. “And Nicholas is correct, we need to get some sleep.”

He was surprised she acquiesced so easily, but kept his reaction to himself. He followed her up the stairs, trying like hell not to watch the sway of her hips in that gown. He loved all aspects
of his new wife. The dangerous pirate, deadly with a stiletto, and the dainty woman who could fill out a gown so well she made men’s mouths water.

He entered her bedchamber behind her and she turned on him, her look wary, defiant and defensive. The Emmaline from the waterfall was gone and in her place the woman he first met, cold and distant. He hated it, and hated that she cloaked herself in so many layers that a lifetime of being with her wouldn’t get through them all. But it was the same reasoning that drew him to her. She wasn’t like any other woman he knew. He liked that she continuously surprised him, kept him on edge.

“I’m not surprised you’ve followed me here.” She opened her wardrobe to pull out breeches and shirts, piling them on the chair haphazardly.

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him over her shoulder and his body instantly responded. His wife. Together forever. His to protect and serve. He trembled with the impact of what he’d done tonight. Tied himself to her for eternity. Trembled at the mission he’d signed on for, because being Emmaline Addison’s husband was not going to be an easy feat. And neither did he want it to be. He’d always assumed he’d someday wed one of the simpering debutantes, who would eventually become a biddable woman who deferred to his good judgment.

What he got instead was the opposite, and he was glad of it. And looking forward to it.

“Don’t be coy, my lord.”

His brows shot up. He’d never been accused of being coy.

“We both know you’re here to demand I complete my wifely duty.”

He blinked, his body hardening at her words, and yet he recognized the inapproachable look on her face, the frost in her eyes. “Is that why you think I’m here?”

She shrugged, picked up a shirt and started folding it. “Why else would you be here, my lord?”

“By all that’s holy, stop calling me
my lord
. I’m not here to demand you lay on your back so I can take you how I please.” Anger seethed, boiling through his veins. What did she take him
for? A blackguard? After all this time, did she not know him at all?

Her head jerked up and for the first time he noticed the trembling in her hands. He knew marriage to her wouldn’t be easy. She was strong-willed and used to charting her own course, but he’d hoped they could have one night together where none of that mattered. Apparently he’d been a fool, and he didn’t like feeling like a fool.

“Then why are you here?” She looked down at the shirt she held, seeming surprised it was folded so neatly.

“I’m here because there are things we need to discuss.” And, yes, he’d hoped they could make love, but he wasn’t daft enough to say
that
now.

She lifted her chin as if preparing for a blow. “Very well. Say what you have to say.”

Why the hell did she look like she was preparing for a body blow? What was he missing here? “What’s wrong, Emmaline?”

Her eyes widened. “Everything is wrong,
my lord
.” Her voice rose and her hands trembled, but he suspected it was more from anger than anything else.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then loosened his cravat. After having gone weeks without one, he found the damn thing stifling.

She swept her arm out to the side, unfurling the shirt and flinging it across the room. “I’ve lost everything because of an idiotic maneuver on your part.”

“Lost everything?” Coy, and an idiot. What was next? His anger threatened to erupt, but that’s exactly what she wanted, so he kept a tight lid on it.

She motioned with her hand toward the room. “This is all yours now. You own everything. The house, the ships, my servants. Me.” Her voice broke and she paused. She was beyond furious. She was devastated, apparently believing he would take everything from her.

“Is that what you think? I own you?”

Outside, lightning crackled, followed by a clap of thunder that shook the windowpanes. Rain pelted the glass. Inside, Emmaline seemed just as stormy, just as wild as nature, and despite her defensive posture and cutting words, his heart swelled at the thought that she was his.

“According to English law you own everything of mine now.”

He moved toward her, winding through the room, around a small table to the foot of the four-poster bed. “Maybe according to the law, but do you truly believe I would take everything from you?” Did she think so little of him? Or did she still believe he was like Daniel Blackwell? Had their time together not proven anything?

“You already have.” The pounding rain almost drowned out her words. She turned away, but not before he caught the glimmer of tears on her cheeks, reflecting the many candles lighting the bedchamber.

A howling wind rushed by. Tree limbs cracked. Leaves and other debris whipped by the window.

“Ah, Emmaline. I’m sorry I’ve caused you such grief.”

She turned back, the tears gone. “Are you? You knew my feelings on being betrothed. Surely you understood marriage would be even worse.” She lifted her arms out to her sides. “This was all I had in the world. This house, my ships, my crew and my revenge. Without asking permission, without a thought to what I might want, you took it all away.”

Although that had never been his intention, he did own everything here, including her servants, although Cook and Clarence might have something to say about that. “Peter Lansing can’t know you’re Lady Anne. After our wedding in front of his parents and their friends, he can’t follow his suspicions without hurting his family’s reputation.”

A tree limb hit the window, making it shudder, but the glass remained intact. Nicholas stepped closer, needing to be closer still, but not wanting to crowd her when already she felt so out of control.

“If Peter suddenly announces his suspicions, his father will look like a fool and his mother will be the laughingstock of society. And while Barbados is far from England, it is very much like England. People will talk. Mayhap the news will reach London and the governor’s position here could be threatened.”

Her determined chin, raised high, began to tremble. “I didn’t think … It never occurred
to me.”

“That’s why I did what I did. To save you.”

“And by doing so, you condemn yourself.”

“Your secret can stay buried here. Let it go. Come back to England with me and start a new life.”

Damn it, the chin came back up. Her shoulders went rigid. Lightning sliced through the sky behind her.

“We may be married, my lord, and you may have the legal right to tell me what I can and cannot do, but in this I will not waver. I will destroy Daniel Blackwell. If you like, you may beat me for it later, but it will not deter me.”

“Beat you?” He took a step back. “Emmaline, I would never beat you, and I would never dare tell you what you can and cannot do. I don’t like your plans, but I respect your need to face your father one final time, and I wouldn’t tell you no. Although I will be honest, and I wish you would reconsider.”

To stop her from doing what she thought was right, to force her to go where he wanted, would extinguish the light that was the essence of Emmaline Addison. To do so would push her away from him forever, and he wasn’t willing to do that.

Her eyes were still filled with distrust. It angered him that she refused to let go, refused to trust him. Damn it, he’d married her to save her. He made her a viscountess, with all the luxuries the title brought. What else did he have to do? What did she want from him?

Then he knew, and he drew in a deep breath. This new wife of his would not be moved by flowery words of praise, pretty trinkets or lofty titles. She cared not for fine fabrics—unless she wanted to sell them for a profit—or sonnets sung in her name. Emmaline Addison, his wife, wanted one thing from her husband, and while the realization cut him to the quick, he knew he had to give it to her if he expected her to trust him.

“The
Illusion
.”

Her brows came together. “Pardon?”

“Blackwell’s ship is called the
Illusion
and is leaving from Chesapeake Bay in a fortnight.”

She blinked. “A fortnight?”

“Aye.”

She looked at the shirt lying on the floor, then her clothes on the chair and finally back at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you have a mission you have to complete. I understand missions and I understand finishing something you started.”

“What about your mission for Kenmar? You’re destroying yourself for me.”

He took another step closer. Barely three feet separated them, but their issues weren’t with distance. Too many other things stood in their way. “I would do anything for you, Emmaline.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and for the first time she didn’t turn away to hide them from him. “Why?”

Another step closer. “Why do you think?”

She shook her head, dislodging more tears. “You confuse me.”

He chuckled. Outside, the wind abated to a dull roar. “No more so than you confuse me.”

“What will you tell Kenmar?”