Bound by Decency (37 page)

“No, no, no.” When Tom’s face clouded with confusion, she patted his arm. “You are going to
rescue
me. In return, I’ll reward you with a ship of your choosing from my husband’s fleet.”

“Your husband?” His gaze strayed toward the cabin beneath the quarterdeck. “Pardon me, but I thought…” A blush infused his freckled cheeks.

India
laughed softly. “That’s exactly who I’m speaking of. Now come along, we must find Drake. We’ll need his help.” She started for the main hatch, but abruptly stopped and fixed Tom with a stern look. “I need your word, Mister Bennett, that you’ll say nothing of this to Cain.”

He shuffled his feet, his apprehension evident. “I’m of no mind to wrong, Cain, Miss Prescott.”

“You aren’t. You’re saving his life.”

Tom cocked his head, studying her in the light of the stars. Slowly, he nodded. “Very well then. Drake is in his cabin.”

351

Bound By Decency

36

T
he weeks passed, and
India
and Cain loved as if they had moments left to live. By day, when they didn’t have duties to attend, they roamed the decks, played at childish games of tag
,
and indulged in an occasional water fight with a bucket of sea water stolen from some laboring sailor. By night, they exhausted themselves in each others arms until they were so spent and sated they could not lift their eyes.

A fortnight after Cain agreed to give him her name,
India
’s time of menses came and passed without result. She said nothing to Cain, knowing the coming of his child would only further wound him when they must part. But she held the knowledge dear to her heart, and in the rare times she spent alone, she fanned her hands over her belly thinking on names and praying the child would be healthy.

They were married two weeks later, in
La Palma
, after Tom secured a preacher from a passing merchant ship and rowed the man to
The Kraken,
where he was more than happy to
unite
the pair. That night, the crew, even Drake, celebrated in excess, opening cask after cask of rum while
India
and Cain enjoyed a bath in the warm shallow waters.

In all her life, she had never known such happiness. The freedom she longed for surrounded her. Her heart soared each time she looked upon her husband. But the ever present weight of separation weighed on her shoulders. She kept her sorrow from Cain, aware he nursed his own. Drake suspected, and more than once when he’d met with her to discuss their plans, he offered a shoulder in his sarcastic, but nonetheless genuine, way.

Tonight, with the clouds barring the light of the moon,
India
couldn’t hold the tears at bay. They flowed freely down her cheeks as
The Kraken
crept, silent as a cloud, Roger lowered, along the
English Channel
. Cain held her in his arms, soaking up the salty drops with his shirt, his face nestled in her hair. It had come upon them, this time when they would part. When morning would lack warmth no matter how the sun might shine and nights would become as cold and desolate as a frozen plain.

And it had come too soon.

Cain’s short sniff, clawed at her heart. She wrapped her arms around his waist more tightly, wishing for some alternative. That perhaps a ship would hail them with news of Richard’s arrest. It was fruitless, for no such miracle would occur. Tonight she returned to
Brighthelmstone
, and Cain would sail away.

She felt the presence of the Navy as keenly as she felt Cain’s heart beneath her cheek. All around warships flocked the harbors, cruised through the dark waters. Low bells tolled, any one of them perhaps a warning that someone had recognized
The Kraken
, despite her extinguished lanterns, well groomed crew, and the rippling Union Jack they’d secured in the Canaries.

Drake’s low voice pulled her from the haven of Cain’s embrace. “It’s time.
Brighthelmstone
’s off the larboard.”

Cain eased
India
out of his embrace but held tight to her shoulders. His gaze filled with unshed tears. As the men moved about them, quietly lowering the rowboat into the channel, he studied her face. She memorized his.

“I love you,” she whispered in a broken voice.

He swallowed hard and nodded. “You’ll live in my heart.”

As if the thought of parting had suddenly become too much, he captured her face in his hands and his mouth crashed into hers. All the turmoil they shared rose behind the tangle of their tongues. She fisted her hands into his hair, pressed her body close to his. Urgent and needy, they clung to one another, until Cain dragged his mouth away and rested his forehead against hers. His breath came hard and heavy. His fingers trembled against her cheeks. “Go,” he whispered hoarsely. “Go and keep my child safe.”

He knew. God’s teeth, he knew. The realization sent fresh tears coursing down her cheeks as she allowed Drake to help her over the rail. The one canvas she’d put her meager belongings in sat in the dinghy’s rough bottom where Tom waited, his hand outstretched to aid her onto the narrow wooden seat. She caught it, held on fiercely.

“You must let go, Miss Prescott,” he urged in a hushed voice.

Like a puppet on strings,
India
nodded and pulled her hand away. She tucked it into her lap, willing herself to not look back, to not turn around and watch Cain disappear from view. She’d promised him she wouldn’t. He’d sworn if she did, he would come after her.

It was time to put her heart behind her. Focus on the plan. She couldn’t take frivolous risks now. With the crispness of a September breeze upon her, one month remained before
London
expected her to become Richard’s wife. Before then, the babe that grew in her womb would show.

She cleared her voice and held fast to her courage. “Row on, Mister Bennett.”

****

C
ain stood on the forecastle, the same place he had waited for his crew to row
India
to his ship. Now, four months later, he watched Tom row her away. Inside, he crumbled into bits. He felt small
and
helpless. Anger at Richard, himself, even God, stung behind his eyes. She didn’t look back, and for one terrifying moment, he questioned her love. Yet as Tom climbed out of the dinghy to push it onto the shallow beach, she turned her head a fraction. As if she longed to look, but on remembering his half-serious threat the previous night, had changed her mind.

He knew then, he hadn’t imagined her devotion.

“Cain,” Drake said at his side. “We must leave. We draw attention.”

Logic ordered Cain to move. To turn around and issue the commands that would bring
The Kraken
about and point them toward the open sea. But every instinct he possessed demanded he go after
India
. A child needed its father.
He
needed
her.
He opened his mouth. Words disobeyed.

With a muffled oath, Drake waved at Stuart. A shrill whistle trilled through the crisp night air. Drake fled the forecastle. His low-spoken order drifted from the deck below. “To the rigging, men. Come about. Quiet as a mouse.”

On the distant shore, Tom took
India
’s canvas and slung it over his shoulder. He offered her his arm, which she accepted. They walked down the
rocky
beach toward a high bank of trees, until they became mere shadows amidst the dark.

Cain’s breath shuddered. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the hot flow of tears. Slowly, he turned from the rail, and for the first time in his many years at sea, resigned his duties to another. Leaving Drake to navigate the crew and the ship, Cain fled to the solitude of his cabin, and the only piece of
India
he had left—her pet.

****

M
iraculously,
India
had escaped the troublesome effects of her first few months of motherhood. But as their requisitioned wagon bounced along the narrow country road toward her father’s country home, she experienced the first. Each bump, hole, and rock left her breasts feeling as if someone had pounded her with fists. She pressed her hands to them, trying to stop the jostling, unmindful of the
inappropriate nature
of her behavior with Tom seated at her side and the fisherman they’d paid to drive them only an arm’s length away.

To her surprise,
Tom
chuckled. At her raised eyebrow, he averted his gaze. “Sorry, Miss Prescott. It’s just, you reminded me of my sister. She is, if you don’t mind my saying, rather ample. Never could stand a carriage ride.”

The inappropriate comment was just the thing
India
needed to relieve her of melancholy. She burst into laughter. “Tom, you are a dear. Mister Bennett, I mean.”

He pushed a hand through his shaggy hair. “I don’t mind the informality. Unless you think we’ll slip when it’s inappropriate.”

“Since
Prescott
is no longer my name, we’ll limit formalities to public use.” She looked beyond him, at an estate perched on the hill. “There’s my home.” She pointed to the lighted windows. “It appears Father is still awake.”

They hit another hole, and
India
gasped with the shock of pain. Cringing, she folded her arms over her chest more tightly. “I’ll introduce you when we arrive and insist on your staying in the guest room. Tomorrow, if Richard has returned—and he swore he would by the first of August—I will make the necessary introductions.”

Tom’s voice softened with concern. In the pointed manner so typical of pirates, he nodded at her folded arms and lowered his voice. “When will the babe come?”

“God’s teeth, does everyone know?” she asked in a fierce whisper.

He flashed her a boyish grin. “I only just made the association.”

A warm flush infused her blood. “Make no mention of this to anyone.”

Frowning, he scolded, “I am not so tactless. I haven’t been so long at sea that I’ve become forgetful of propriety.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry.” She reclined against the wooden sidewall, hoping for a better position. “Nerves have possessed me.”

With the affection a brother would offer a sister, he patted her trouser-clad knee. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. What if I can’t find the ledger?”

Tom nudged her canvas with his bare toe. “You still have the flags
Drake secured
.”

Yes, she did, but they wouldn’t do her any good without the ledger. She nodded anyway.

The wagon slowed as it rounded the last bend to her father’s estate. Outside the window, sweeping gardens emerged. Blood red dahlias bloomed amidst thick greens that were manicured into an array of shapes and figures. Her favorite, a massive horse head, stood sentry near the pebbled walk that led to the front porch. As a child, she’d made the beast her friend.
Prancer
.

She couldn’t deny a bit of sentimental warmth crept in to ease the chill in her veins. Coming home still held the same appeal it had after the countless trips to
London
during the heyday of her youth. Then, she’d been sick of all the silliness associated with balls and parties and courting. Now, home was just a familiar sight to fill the emptiness in her soul.

The wagon rolled to a stop, and the horses let out a shrill whinny. Behind the sprawling house, a horse in her father’s stable answered the high-pitched call.

“Ready?” Tom asked.

“I don’t have much choice, do I?” She nodded at the window as beyond, the front door opened.
Billings
, her father’s manservant, stepped onto the porch, lantern held high.

Tom gave
India
’s
shoulder
a squeeze, then scrambled over the edge, her canvas in hand. Assuming the role they had designed, he offered his hand to aid her exit. With a deep breath,
India
turned her gaze heavenward, uttered a silent prayer, and climbed to the ground.

“
India
! Merry be, is that you, miss?”
Billings
held the lantern higher. His aged features took on excitement, and he hurriedly swung back to the partly open door. “Lord Prescott, come quick! Miss Prescott has returned!”

Cathain. Mrs. Cathain.

As she thought of
Cain
,
India
’s eyes misted over again. All too aware she ought to be overjoyed to be home, she let the tears fall and accepted
Billings
’ tight hug.

“We have been so worried about you, miss.”

Her father joined them, his grey hair out of place, as if he had rushed to the door. “
India
?” he asked in disbelief.

“Father!” The first true joy at returning came over her as she flung herself into his sturdy embrace. If only Cain could be here. Standing behind her, ready to shake his hand. She pushed the absent thought aside and rose to her toes to kiss her father’s cheek.

“Oh, daughter, I’ve missed you. Are you well? Did they harm you? The note left behind…” His voice cracked as his arms enveloped her so tight he flattened her tender breasts.

She let out a squeak and pushed on his stout chest.

He let her go, but not before hugging her tight once more. As the wagon trotted off, her father looked beyond her, noticing Tom for the first time. His gaze raked over Tom’s haphazard attire, taking him in from shaggy blond hair to bare feet. “Who is this?”

India
moved to stand at Tom’s side. Time to play the actress. With a little luck, her emotions wouldn’t betray her lies. She gave Tom a gracious smile. “Father, this is Mister Thomas Bennett. He was captured from a Navy ship shortly after my kidnapping, and he rescued me off
The Kraken
. Mister Bennett, my father, Baron Prescott of Haverly.”