The Pirate Prince (22 page)

Willow’s thoughts ran in a different direction. Despite Dariq’s nearness, she was sad because she knew that today was the beginning of the end. She had given her promise to her father, and pride demanded that she keep it. It would destroy her, but the knowledge that Dariq was alive and well would see her through the difficult days, weeks and years without him. She thought about the child she carried, and smiled. She would always have a small part of Dariq to love.

Willow’s secret would have to remain a secret, however. If Dariq knew she carried his child, he would fight tooth and nail to keep it and her.

Dariq stirred, rose up on his elbows and gazed into Willow’s eyes. “I love you, Willow. There is plenty of time to
decide where on this earth we can be happy.”

Willow did not reply as he shifted off her and stretched out beside her. There was nothing she
could
say.

“I want to have children with you,” he murmured against her hair. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

If Dariq hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly after his heartfelt declaration, he would have seen the silent tears streaming down Willow’s cheeks.

Chapter Twenty

The following days couldn’t have been more idyllic for Willow. The weather continued warm and sunny, and her nights overflowed with passion. But undermining Willow’s happiness was the knowledge that they would reach Lipsi long before she was ready to leave Dariq. She had but to look behind her to see her father’s ship dogging the
Revenge
. He must have been livid when she was discovered missing and he read her note. She was surprised he hadn’t brought the warships with him, but those vessels had parted ways with the
Fairwind
and set a course for England.

As Willow stood at the rail, gazing at the blue-green sea, she became aware of a dark mass hovering on the horizon. Her first sight of land sent her heart plummeting down to her feet.

“That’s Lipsi in the distance,” Dariq said from behind her.

She leaned back against him, taking comfort in the solid warmth of his body. His arms came around her, and he planted a kiss on top of her head.

“We are almost home, my love. I’m glad your father decided
to visit. I have yet to thank him for the part he played in my rescue. I hope he will accept my hospitality for a few days before returning to England.”

“Did I tell you my mother is with Papa?” Willow mentioned.

Dariq chuckled against her ear. “I’ve given you very little time for conversation. Have they reconciled?”

“Aye, isn’t it wonderful? I knew they still loved each other, but they were both too stubborn to be the first to admit that mistakes had been made in their marriage.”

“There will be no mistakes in ours, my love. Your parents are leaving you in good hands.”

Willow shifted uncomfortably. Time was running out. She had to tell Dariq tonight that she was leaving him. The pain of parting came crashing down on her, and she sagged beneath its weight. Dariq’s arms tightened around her.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

Aye, sick unto death
.

“I feel fine, but the sun is a little too intense for me. Perhaps I should return to the cabin and lie down.”

Dariq watched her go, dread prickling down his spine. Something was wrong. Everything had seemed fine until Lipsi appeared on the horizon. He stared thoughtfully at the English ship following in his wake. Intuition told him there was something about the ship and her passengers he should fear. Then Mustafa joined him and his attention shifted elsewhere.

Willow mentally prepared herself for the moment when she had to tell Dariq she was leaving him. No matter how difficult it would be, she intended to shoulder the blame for their parting. She prayed she could do it without
breaking down. Dariq must never know how desperately she was hurting.

The afternoon waned into dusk as Willow bathed and prepared for Dariq’s return. She had even asked the ship’s cook to prepare something special for Dariq if supplies were available, and to bring hot water to the cabin so he could bathe.

When Dariq returned to the cabin later, he spied the tub and sent Willow a grateful smile. “You seem to know exactly what I want, beauty.”

“I asked cook to prepare your favorite meal,” Willow replied. “I want tonight to be special.”

Dariq sent her a wary look. “Why? I thought all our nights were special.”

“They are, but…” She could say nothing more without bursting into tears.

“Is something wrong, love?”

“I have something to tell you, but it can wait.”

She helped him disrobe, but when he stepped into the tub, she turned away. She could scarcely look at him, much less touch him, knowing how terribly she was going to hurt him.

“You seem distracted,” Dariq observed.

“I’ve been thinking about my parents,” Willow replied, refusing to look him in the eye.

Dariq surged up from the tub, dried quickly and stepped into his trousers. Then he padded over to Willow on bare feet and turned her to face him. “Something
is
wrong. I sensed it earlier today. You may as well tell me, for I’ll find out anyway.”

Tears clogged Willow’s throat as she searched Dariq’s beloved face. She said the only thing she could think of to distract him. “Make love to me, Dariq. Now…
please
.”

The desperation in Willow’s voice troubled Dariq. Not
a night had passed since they’d left Istanbul that they had not made love. Sometimes they had stolen away in the middle of the day and made long, leisurely love in the afternoon heat. For some unexplained reason, Willow appeared on edge tonight.

“Please, Dariq,” Willow repeated, tugging him toward the bed.

Her urgency transferred itself to Dariq, stoking his passion as he watched her remove her clothing. All his apprehension and fear were forgotten as he stripped off his trousers, pushed her backward on the bed and followed her down. He entered her quickly; she was ready for him. Her wet heat drew him inside her and closed around him.

She went wild beneath him, kissing him wherever she could reach… his mouth, his nose, his chin, his neck. Her hands slid down his spine to caress his buttocks as she pressed upward to meet his powerful strokes. On fire for her now, Dariq thrust deep, hard, fast, his hips pounding against hers, driving them both to a tumultuous climax.

When he was finally able to breathe, and think, he rose up on his arms and stared down at her. “What is it, Willow? Something has upset you, and I want to know what it is.”

Willow choked back a sob; Dariq pulled out of her and gathered her into his arms. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll try to fix it. Seeing you unhappy is tearing me apart.”

“You cannot fix this,” Willow said on a sob. “No one can. ’Tis not our fate to be together. Our worlds are too different. I wouldn’t be happy on Lipsi, and you would be miserable in London.”

“Those aren’t the only two places in the world. We can go anywhere. I can support you in style wherever you choose to live. Perhaps you would prefer France, or Italy.”

Willow could not stop crying. She hurt so badly, she
was nearly sick with it. It was time to tell Dariq the truth, or as close to it as she could get.

Dragging in a shuddering breath, Willow said, “I am returning to England with Papa and Mama.”

Dariq went still. So still she thought he hadn’t heard.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard; your words stole the breath from me.” He seemed calm, too calm. “Would you care to explain?”

“We don’t belong together.”

Dariq’s lips barely moved as he said, “Are you trying to tell me you don’t love me?”

“Never that! I do love you! But sometimes love isn’t enough. I want you to be happy. You would be out of place in my environment, and I would hate living on Lipsi while you pursued piracy.”

“What you mean is you are ashamed of me, that I don’t fit in your world,” Dariq charged.

“That is
not
what I meant,” Willow argued. “Papa…” Her words fell off. She deemed it best to keep her father out of it.

But Dariq was too astute not to catch the inflection in her voice. “What about your father? Doesn’t he think I’m good enough for you?”

“Papa has naught to do with my decision,” she lied.

Dariq surged from the bed and began to dress with angry, jerking motions. “I understand perfectly. Your father persuaded you to return to England because His Lordship does not want me as a son-in-law. Your parents probably have a proper husband all picked out for you; one who will overlook your past in order to get his hands on your generous portion.”

Fully dressed now, he turned to confront her. “Very well, I won’t beg you to stay with me. If you loved me half
as much as I love you, you wouldn’t leave.” He yanked the door open.

Before he walked out, he said something he knew he’d regret the rest of his life. “You are not irreplaceable, you know. I will have no difficulty finding another houri to take your place in my bed.”

That was the last Willow saw of Dariq until they reached Lipsi. And then she only glimpsed him from afar the day they docked. She had watched him stride down the gangplank without a backward glance. Willow had no idea what would happen next, so she sat in the cabin and waited, too sick at heart to stir. Two hours later, her father’s ship dropped anchor in the cove. Shortly afterward, there came a knock on the cabin door.

Hoping it was Dariq, Willow flew to the door. Her face fell when she saw it was only Mustafa. But what did she expect, after the way she’d treated Dariq?

“ ’Tis time to leave, my lady. Your father has sent a boat for you.”

Willow nodded and followed the huge man to the rail. A sailor lowered a ladder for her.

“ ’Tis not too late to change your mind,” Mustafa said. “I do not know what happened between you and my master, but I am sure it can be fixed.”

“Not this time, Mustafa. We both know Dariq wouldn’t be alive today without Papa’s help. Papa kept his promise to me, and so I must keep mine.”

Mustafa’s keen gaze pierced deep into her wounded soul. “You promised to leave Prince Dariq in return for your father’s help,” he guessed.

A jolt of panic surged through Willow. “Nay, that’s not what happened!”

“Do not lie to me, lady, for I can see into your heart. You love the prince as much as he loves you. Tell him the truth.”

“I cannot. The truth would hurt him more than my lie. Let him believe what he wants about me. Promise you will never mention this conversation to Dariq, Mustafa. He will forget me in time.”

“He will never forget you,” Mustafa predicted as he helped her over the railing. “But if it pleases you, I will say naught to him. You know, however, that my master is not stupid. He will figure it out in his own good time. Allah be with you, lady,” he said softy as she climbed down the ladder.

Two sailors helped settle Willow into the gently rocking boat. Tears distorted her vision, but when she looked back, she swore she saw Dariq standing on the shore, watching her being slowly rowed away. She dashed away her tears for a better look, but he was gone.

Mustafa found Dariq brooding in his chamber. Saliha Sultana was with him.

“Is she safely aboard the
Fairwind?
” Dariq asked when Mustafa strode into the chamber.

“Aye, my lord.”

Dariq looked out the window in time to see the
Fairwind’s
sails fill with air as the ship picked up speed. “She is truly gone,” he said dully. “I will never understand what happened between us. Her reason for leaving me doesn’t make sense.”

Mustafa exchanged a glance with Saliha Sultana and then excused himself. A few minutes later, Saliha followed. She found Mustafa waiting for her.

“What happened?” Saliha asked. “I saw love for my son in Willow’s heart. Dariq told me everything that happened in Istanbul, and, like him, I can make no sense of
Willow’s leaving him. I have never seen my son so bereft.”

“I do not know what happened; I can only tell you what I observed. The prince and his lady seemed very happy together aboard the
Revenge
these past few days. It was Lady Willow’s father, the Marquis of Bramston, and his crewmen who made Prince Dariq’s rescue possible.”

“I am surprised the marquis agreed to help,” Saliha mused. “As I understand it, my son held Willow captive against her will. I cannot imagine an English lord agreeing to let his daughter wed a Turkish pirate.”

“Think about it, my lady,” Mustafa said. “If you were Lady Willow’s father, how would you convince your daughter to return to England with you, knowing full well that she loves Prince Dariq?”

Saliha’s brow furrowed, and then abruptly cleared. “Oh, how sad. His Lordship offered to help Dariq under the condition that Willow return to England with him. That’s it—it has to be!”

“Precisely,” Mustafa concurred.

“We must tell Dariq immediately.”

“Nay, I think not. Once his anger passes, he will see things as we do. If we tell him now, he will pursue the
Fairwind
and launch an attack if the ship refuses to yield to him. Lives could be lost… perhaps his life or his lady’s if the marquis engages the
Revenge
in a sea battle.”

“I sense Dariq’s sadness beneath his anger. We cannot let this happen, Mustafa.”

“Would your son be happy in England, my lady?”

Saliha closed her eyes, her thoughts returning to her life before she became the wife of a sultan. When she opened them, her expression had brightened considerably.

“Dariq most definitely could be happy in England, Mustafa.” She squared her shoulders. “I shall make it happen.”

Chapter Twenty-one

London, three months later

Willow reclined in the window seat in her room, staring at the cold rain slanting against the windowpane. Shivering, she pulled her shawl closer about her rounded middle. She hadn’t been warm since her arrival in London. Coldness had seeped into her soul and settled in the empty space in her heart. Numbness of mind and spirit had become her constant companion.

Monique had guessed Willow’s secret before they reached England and questioned her about her condition. Willow hadn’t denied her pregnancy, and of course Monique told her father. The row that transpired next had been awful. Had Dariq been within the marquis’s reach, there would have been bloodshed.

Her pregnancy had renewed her father’s anger at her for leaving the
Fairwind
without his permission and boarding the
Revenge
. But after he’d seen how distressed she was, he had dropped the subject and accepted her condition. He loved his daughter deeply.

The door to Willow’s room creaked open. Monique walked in. “Come and have tea with your papa and me,
ma petite
. Sitting alone and brooding will do neither you nor your child any good.”

Willow gazed listlessly at her mother. “Do you really care about my child, Mama?”

“Of course I do,
ma petite
. So does Robert. Please come down and join us.”

“What if company drops in? I can no longer hide my pregnancy beneath full skirts.”

“Your father has taken care of the gossips. The
ton
believe you were wed in France and lost your husband in a terrible accident. You are expecting your dear dead husband’s child. There is no shame in that.”

“It’s a lie. Even the name you gave my ‘dear dead husband’ is a lie.”

Monique shrugged. “What does it matter as long as your own name remains unsullied? After your child is born, you can go out in society again and find a man worthy of you.”

“Oh, Mama,” Willow sighed, “why must you make my life so difficult? I just want to be left alone. I do not want a husband. Dariq is the only man I will ever love. You and Papa have no idea how badly I hurt him.”

Monique frowned. “You are wrong, Willow. Your prince hurt you more than you hurt him. Did he not hold you captive against your will?” Reluctantly, Willow nodded. “Did he not take advantage of your innocence?”

“Not exactly,” Willow whispered, recalling his erotic seduction of her.

Monique hugged her daughter. “It matters not,
ma petite
. You are home with your loved ones where you belong. Your child will be as precious to us as you are. Come
downstairs and have tea with us. You must eat for yourself and your babe. You are far too thin.”

Willow knew her mother was right. She’d had little appetite since returning home, and she appeared pale and gaunt.

She stood and shook out her skirts. “Very well. If it will please you, I will join you and Papa.”

Robert stood when Monique and Willow entered the cozy back parlor where they usually gathered informally, a delighted smile stretching his lips. He took Willow’s hands and led her to a chair near the fire.

“You cannot imagine how much it pleases me to have you join us,” the marquis said. “You spend too much time alone in your room. Brooding isn’t healthy.”

“Have you forgotten how despondent you felt after Mama left you?” Willow reminded him. “I haven’t. You sat and brooded for months. I love Dariq no less than you love Mama.”

“Do not mention that pirate to me,” Robert said harshly. “If not for him, you wouldn’t be in the condition you are in now.”

Willow laced her fingers over her stomach. “I love Dariq’s child and always will. Would you have let me remain with Dariq had you known I was expecting his child?”

“I’m sorry, Willow. I wouldn’t have let you remain with your prince under any circumstances. I stand by my decision to save you and your child from living with a violent man. Now,” he said cheerily, “about that tea. I’m famished.”

A servant entered as if on cue with a tea cart weighed down with sandwiches, biscuits and tiny iced cakes. Monique poured, and offered Willow an assortment of
food she had placed on a plate. Willow took the plate and nibbled on a sandwich.

They spoke of inconsequential things while they ate and drank. Willow managed to consume half the food on her plate and drink two cups of tea, which seemed to please her parents.

She really wasn’t trying to be difficult; she was just desperately unhappy. She kept recalling Dariq’s parting words and wondering if he had already found a woman to replace her.

Perhaps he had found more than one. What woman wouldn’t find Dariq desirable? Willow prayed nightly for him, begging God to keep him safe.

Willow’s thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of the door knocker.

“I thought you told me no visitors were expected,” Willow said, sending an anxious glance toward the parlor door.

Monique sent her a puzzled look. “None of my friends would venture out on a raw day like this,” she replied with a shudder. “Unlike France, one never sees the sun in this dismal country.”

Robert sent her a speaking look. “Oh, well, it is worth it to be with my family again,” Monique quickly added.

A footman appeared in the doorway. “The Earl of Newcastle and his mother, Lady Bridgeton, and Reverend Faraday request an audience, milord.”

Robert’s brow furrowed. “Newcastle? I do not recognize the name. There
was
an Earl of Newcastle, but I believe he died without heirs many years ago. Show them in, Baxter, and have the tea tray refreshed.”

Anxious to escape the ordeal of making small talk, Willow rose. “Please excuse me. I wish to retire to my room.”

But it was too late to gracefully bow out. The earl, his
mother and the black-clad reverend waited in the doorway to be announced.

“The Earl of Newcastle, Lady Bridgeton and Reverend Faraday,” Baxter intoned.

Sighing in resignation, Willow resumed her seat while her father greeted their guests.

“I am afraid you have the advantage, Lord Newcastle,” Robert said. “Have we been introduced?”

“Not formally,” Newcastle replied.

Willow’s head snapped up. That voice! She knew it! She half rose from her chair. “Dariq?”

Robert looked from Willow to Newcastle, his bewilderment visibly apparent.

Willow took a wobbly step toward Newcastle, then another, and then her eyes rolled back and she started a slow downward spiral.

Newcastle reached her first, scooping her up moments before she reached the carpeted floor.

“What have you done to her?” Newcastle barked, his gray eyes blazing with fury.

“See here, Newcastle,” Robert sputtered, “who in blazes are you?”

Lady Bridgeton stepped forward. “Please forgive us for barging in like this.”

Monique rushed over to Willow, patting her cheek and murmuring in French as Newcastle laid her gently on a sofa and knelt beside her. As he had feared, seeing him in London had overwhelmed her, and he wished there had been some way to cushion the shock.

Newcastle searched Willow’s face. She looked too gaunt and far too thin. His gaze traveled downward over her body, and stopped abruptly at the bulge beneath her skirts. His eyes widened and he spat out a curse. She was carrying his child! Why hadn’t she told him?

“Will you please tell me what the three of you are doing here?” the marquis asked curtly.

Willow opened her eyes. Reaching up, she touched Dariq’s face. “Dariq? Is it really you?”

“It is indeed, my love.”

He helped her to sit up. “How …? You’re an earl? I do not understand.”

Lady Bridgeton moved into Willow’s view. “Dariq has always been an earl, my dear. He inherited my father’s title. The legal end took a few weeks to clear the courts, but Dariq is now Earl of Newcastle and can take his rightful place in society.”

Willow looked confused. “But Dariq is already a prince.”

Dariq was still on his knees. He took Willow’s hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “A prince without a princess. Will you marry me, Willow? Will you be my countess? My life is meaningless without you.”

“Now, hold on a minute,” Bramston blustered. “I’m not sure you’re right for my daughter.”

Dariq sent him a quelling look. “Do you deny that Willow is carrying my child?”

“Well… er… of course not, but—”

“Then I am right for her,” Dariq replied emphatically and turned to Willow. “Will you marry me, my love? I purchased a special license from the bishop and brought Reverend Faraday to perform the nuptials. Your parents and my mother are here, so we need not delay.”

“Perhaps we should leave the young people alone for a few minutes,” Lady Bridgeton suggested.

“I am not sure we should,” Bramston argued.

“Of course we should, Robert,” Monique argued, sending her husband a silent message. “Willow and her Dariq need to talk. Come along, Lady Bridgeton, Reverend Faraday. We shall take tea elsewhere.”

Robbed of speech, Willow merely stared at Dariq. Stylishly dressed, his hair trimmed, he could easily pass as a member of the
ton
. Though his appearance had changed, his distinctive gray eyes had not. They were now regarding her with concern.

“I am sorry my arrival was delayed, my love,” Dariq explained, “but it took a fortnight to set aside my hurt, gather my wits and realize why you had left me. Pain has a way of overriding common sense. It wasn’t until I decided to follow you that Mother told me about the title waiting for me in England.”

“You really are an earl,” Willow whispered. “At first I thought it was a ploy to get around my father’s objections.”

“Aye, love, I really am an earl. The title is legally mine; I had but to claim it.”

“No more piracy?”

“That part of my life is over.”

“You intend to remain in England?”

“If you consent to be my wife, there is no other place I want to be.” He spread his hand over her stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me about our child? If I hadn’t come to England, I never would have known.” His voice held a note of censure.

“I knew that if I told you, you would never let me go. I gave Papa my solemn promise that I would return to England if he helped you escape. He knew you lived a violent life and feared for my safety. He did not learn about the baby until we were halfway to England. Are you angry with me?”

“Furious. But grateful that I gained my senses in time to bring myself to London and wed you before our babe is born.”

He rose up from his knees, sat beside Willow and gathered her into his arms. He kissed her with such tenderness
and love that she felt guilty for the pain she had caused him. But he was alive, and he might not have been if her father had not given his help.

“I missed you, love. Living in England will be a jarring adjustment, but I know I can do it with you at my side. Mother seems happy to be in her homeland again and is renewing acquaintances. They are helping to ease her way back into society. The scandal of her wedding a Turkish sultan has been long forgotten.” He grinned. “In fact, Mother is being actively courted by society matrons eager to learn about her life in a harem.”

“Saliha Sultana deserves happiness,” Willow said, smiling through her tears of joy.

“Her name is Lady Ellen Bridgeton now. Saliha Sultana is a title she will never hold again, just as I exchanged the rank of prince for earl. I am now Lord Dariq Bridgeton, Earl of Newcastle. You will make an exceptional countess.”

There were so many questions Willow wanted answered. “Where is Mustafa? Did he come to England with you?”

“Mustafa is still my trusted friend. He wouldn’t think of letting me come to a strange land without him. You will see him again when you move to my townhouse. I also own a country estate in Kent. I visited it briefly after I arrived in England. It’s being renovated even as we speak. It has a large nursery, which I’m sure you will appreciate.”

“Did Ali Hara and Kamel accompany you to England?”

“They wished to remain on Lipsi and carry on my legacy of piracy under Captain Juad. The captain cannot return to Turkey as long as Ibrahim is sultan.”

“I shall miss them,” Willow said wistfully. She sent him a watery smile. “Though not as much as I missed you. After
I returned to England, I had naught but my child to live for. The light had gone from my soul.”

“I am here now, love. Just say the word and Reverend Faraday will marry us. I have the special license in my pocket. Please say yes, Willow.”

Willow searched his face. “Can you truly be happy here? ’Tis not the kind of life you are accustomed to.”

“How can I not be happy? I have you and my mother, and soon our child will make us a family. And I have my ship. I’ve renamed her
Lady Willow
in your honor. My fortune will let us live in style for the rest of our lives, and the wealth I inherited from my grandfather can be kept in trust for our children.”

Willow touched his face, smiling through her tears. “I never asked you if you wanted children.”

“With you, I do. For the first time in my memory, I look forward to becoming a husband and father. Until you came into my life, my needs were served by concubines.”

Willow slanted him a stern look. “Once we are wed, there will be no concubines or mistresses.”

Dariq’s hopes soared. “Does that mean you’ll accept my proposal?”

She threw her arms around his neck. “I will marry you now, today, whenever you say. I have been lost without you.”

He kissed her with desperate longing; Willow felt the power of his love fill her heart and returned it with the same measure of sincerity.

“Ahem!”

Willow glanced over Dariq’s shoulder at the open door. She broke off the kiss and smiled at her father. He walked into the room, followed in close order by Monique, Lady Bridgeton and Reverend Faraday.

“Have you had enough time to hash out your differences?” the marquis asked.

“We are going to get married, Papa,” Willow said. “I hope you have no objections.”

Dariq stood, facing the marquis squarely. “I love your daughter, my lord. She will not suffer in my care, you can depend upon it.”