Captives' Charade (21 page)

“What a rakehell you are to take advantage of our situation!” Sarah’s cheeks blazed as she grabbed the edge of the table in a futile effort to control her fury. “No one would ever know what our sleeping arrangements are, and if they did, you could have made an excuse. Damn you, Stewart Chamberlain!” she hissed, her wrath full blown. “You are so clever when you want to be, but you opt for a dim-witted tack when you know it will compromise me! And stop laughing, you loathsome lecher!”

“Are you always such a spitfire in the morning?” Stewart’s tone was cajoling, enragingly serene. “I will be mindful to keep my distance until you’ve have a chance to wake up completely. Now if you will just rest from your exercise of jumping to conclusions ....”

“You actually expect no protest from me?” she charged. “Lest you forget, I am a lady ... in both title and character. Not some dockside convenient or enterprising courtesan. Yet already I have been subjected to a humiliating lack of privacy that would brand me a Paphian were anyone to find out. You are ruining me, Mr. Chamberlain, and I won’t stand for it!”

“Are you finished?” His answer came in the form of two slender hands raised in claw-like fashion accompanied by the hissing sound of a cat. With maddening tranquility, he proceeded. “I did not sleep because I spent the entire night in a rather challenging game of cards with d'Alava and our captain. Your complaint of a headache was all I needed to gain a seat in the match. Otherwise they would have thought it strange that I would prefer gambling to your hypnotic charms. You see? I am not completely unsympathetic to your plight,” he added with a cherubic smile.

“Tut, tut,” Stewart rebuked her goodnaturedly, getting up from his chair. “You leapt to conclusions my dear ... one of your more tiresome habits.” Sarah chose not to respond, feeling for the moment that her relief was enough satisfaction, but having a great urge to poke out her tongue at him. With a haughty look at his retreating form, she turned her attention to the cup of chocolate before her, but was forced to take note of him again as he leveled a parting comment at the door, his brown eyes dancing. “I might add, for future reference, that when I do sleep with you, you won’t be wondering in the morning if it truly occurred.”

As usual, he was right. This fact was proven to Sarah the very next night, after the ships sailed their way into the tangled maze of islands that created a safe haven for d’Alava’s pirate kingdom. After disembarking from the long boats, the crew was sent under Jeremiah’s watchful eye to dilapidated quarters off the southern shore. Sarah’s heart lurched when she saw the meager form of her maid trudging wearily beside Ezra, who stoically pretended not to watch out for her.

“Stewart,” she whispered pleadingly, as the two watched the proceedings from the deck. “We can’t let Tegan stay in that hovel with the others. Is there anything you can do?”

“We’re going to try to get her duties in the kitchen,” he replied softly, observing the sailors’ march. “Then perhaps she’ll be allowed to sleep in the main house where we will be staying. But we can’t press for too many favors, Sarah,” he added, his arm coming around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. “It would arouse suspicions, which would be more harmful to Tegan than her present situation. Come now, sweet,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against her soft hair. “Hide your distress. D’Alava is approaching.”

“Are you two lovebirds ready to disembark?” The Spaniard’s voice boomed cheerily behind them as he made his way to Sarah’s side. “I believe you two might be looking forward to a night on dry land, where the only rolling is of your own making.” He laughed at his own joke, even more so when he saw the embarrassed blush spread across Sarah’s cheeks.

“Your dwelling is well hid, Señor,” Stewart interjected, and Sarah was so grateful for his intercession that she moved back easily against his chest as he turned toward the pirate. “I see no trace of a settlement from here.”

“’Tis the advantage of a tropical jungle, Mr. Chamberlain, as well you know. Believe it or not, my home is but a short walk from the beach. The village stretches to the west.” He pointed over the lush greenery. “Come, I see the longboat is returning. I’d like to show you around my humble abode before nightfall. The natives will unload the cargo in the morning.”

Humble was right. Not in size, for the main house was three stories high and had two doublestoried wings attached to either side. But unlike any home Sarah had ever entered, d’Alava’s mansion was almost completely without ornamentation. The walls were plainly white-washed and there was not a trace of fine moldings or paneling throughout. Roughly–constructed bamboo shades took the place of draperies in some rooms, but most rooms were without any window adornments, or even glass. D’Alava’s “palace” was kingly only in its spaciousness and the haphazardly-scattered array of rugs, furnishings, and silver and gold artifacts his piracy had netted him over the years. Sarah noted, too, with a shudder, that the house was in need of a thorough cleaning.

“Ofcourse,mydear.ButI’venoneedof them unless I am in residence. Turgot has gone to round them up from the village. Let me show you to your rooms, and I’ll have one of the maids draw you a bath when she arrives.”

With a paternal smile, he took her arm and led her up the wide staircase to a door on the southern side of the large foyer. Stewart followed, carrying a small case containing some of their personal items. “This,” he announced, opening the double portal, “is your sitting room. See how lovely the breeze? It’s shaded here so we’ve dispensed with window coverings.”

“And with furniture as well,” Stewart drawled upon entering the room. It was true. Aside from a huge Persian rug, the entire room was bare.

Waving away Stewart’s comment, d’Alava sputtered impatiently. “That will be taken care of in good time. There are plenty of settees and chairs around here. We don’t have guests very often, so this room was never decorated. What do you care?” he added, his voice changing suddenly to a teasing quality. “You won’t be spending much time in here.” With that, he sprung open the doors to the bedchamber, and gestured for his guests to follow.

Sarah wandered reluctantly into the room, stopping dead in her tracks when she spied the thing which d’Alava was so eager for them to see. She would have stayed riveted there were it not for Stewart pushing her ahead of him. “Eh? You are speechless, no?” the pirate chuckled, clapping his hands in pleasure. “’Twas a gift from the French. And as you know, their skill in bed making is exceeded only by their expertise beneath the covers. Well, what do you think?”

It was a massive twisted-walnut bed, the elaborately carved and gold-leafed posters reaching nearly to the high ceiling and supporting a frighteningly heavy wooden canopy. Six people could recline comfortably within its confines, so wide was the mattress. And six people probably had, Sarah thought, swallowing hard as her eyes rested on the dingy linens. “It is most unusual,” she finally murmured through gritted teeth.

“Ah,butlookcloser!”d’Alavaencouraged gleefully. Throwing a helpless look at Stewart, who seemed to be taking quite an interest in the bed, Sarah tiptoed nearer and saw that the handwork was not some abstract design, but detailed representations of amorous nudes. Not wishing to show offense, or shock, she grimaced weakly and made to test the bedding with her gloved fingertips.

“It seems quite comfort--.” A movement directly above snagged her
upwards, she gasped at the
attention. Peering sight of her own

surprised face reflected in the Venetian mirror tiles lining the canopy’s interior. Mortified by the indecency of the carnal couch, and feeling all the more agitated by the two men staring at her, Sarah felt a terrific urge to scream out her indignation. Fortunately, Stewart surmised her distress and placed himself between his wife and the Spaniard.

“I think my wife is somewhat overwhelmed by your surprise, Simon,” he said laconically. “Her upbringing has been sheltered, as you might imagine, but I am sure she will come to appreciate your gesture of hospitality. Won’t you, darling?” He clasped his large hand over her trembling one and pulled her next to him.

“Of course, Señor.” Her voice startled her with its assuredness, for she felt anything but calm. “Tell me, do you have fresh linens for us?”

D’Alava smiled knowingly. “So! You are eager to sample the delights of this love nest, no? But of course. There is a bathing chamber through here, see?” He pointed to a door opposite the bed. “I believe it is well stocked with all you shall need, including netting to ward off mosquitoes, if memory serves me correctly. But you needn’t trouble yourselves. The maid will take care of everything.”

As soon as d'Alava departed, Sarah released the shudder of revulsion that had been building up, and backed away from the bed until she found herself leaning against the window sill that spanned the length of the far wall. Aiming a gloved forefinger at the monstrosity, she declared, “I will die before I sleep in that hideous thing! It’s not fit for a brothel!”

Stewart was unperturbed as his hand carelessly traced the carvings on one of the posters. “I did not realize you were familiar with the décor of a brothel. Actually, this would fit in rather nicely, I believe.” His eyes examined her leisurely, for she presented a startlingly pretty picture in her violet day gown, firm breasts heaving in her discomfiture. The afternoon light softened the rosy hue of her skin, and her chestnut hair shone where it was touched by dappled sunlight.

“I fail to see the humor,” Sarah snapped, crossing her arms in defense of his gaze. Obviously she was not aware that in so doing she was presenting him with an even more provocative view. “This place is unlivable, though it seems not to bother you one iota.”

“Since we have little else to do, perhaps we can remedy that somewhat. Unless, of course, you find housecleaning an offensive chore.”

“Filth offends me, sir, as does your smugness,” she muttered, removing her hat and gloves and pushing up her sleeves.

The two attacked the bedroom and bathing chamber, using strips torn from the bed sheets to knock down cobwebs and dust the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. Stewart managed to pull the mattress to the small balcony on one side of the room, beating the feather-stuffed ticking soundly to free the dust and stale odors. By the time he returned it, Sarah had shaken out the clean but musty linens and the two proceeded to make up the bed. He laughed aloud when she produced a bottle of toilet water from her case and liberally sprinkled the sweet-smelling perfume on the sheets and pillow cases. “Now I am convinced you know something of brothels. ‘Tis a very effective means of freshening up between customers.”

She was about to level a scathing retort when a knock sounded at the door. Stewart went to open it and found himself confronted by a shy young black girl loaded down with a pail of water, linens and various cleaning items. “Come in,” he smiled engagingly, taking the heavy bucket from her. “We’ve taken the liberty of starting without you.”

Thegirlgavehimapuzzledlook,buther eyes widened in surprise as she saw the very beautiful lady, her dress wrinkled and damp with perspiration, face flushed, and hair tumbling in sweaty ringlets, coming round the end of the bed.

ThelookmadeSarahconsciousofher rumpled appearance, but she was much too preoccupied to do more than rub her sleeve across her brow. “How do you do?” she asked briskly, taking in the girl’s simple, flowered dress, skinny ankles and bare feet peeking out from beneath. With a smile, she added, more kindly, “What is your name?”

“Iamsoglad,”Sarahanswered.“Here,come with me and we will have this place spotless in no time.”

“Wellhe’llneverknow,willhe?”Sarahsmiled sweetly, taking the girl’s arm and pulling her toward the bathing chamber. “You are going to need our help if you’re ever to finish before nightfall.”

It was some time later that Sarah found herself finally relaxing in a heavenly warm and fragrant bath that Galena had prepared for her. It had been a long time since she had exerted so much physical effort and her muscles ached with satisfying fatigue. Stewart had gone off to do some reconnaissance so she luxuriated in her privacy, knowing that she’d be undisturbed until dinner.

She found Galena to be a competent, willing maid, eager to demonstrate her skills that were rarely in demand in d’Alava’s mansion. Galena had managed to find a new dress for Sarah to wear, since her trunks were still aboard ship. It was a trifle too daring – an extremely low-cut empirestyled gown in a pale blue silk that clung most provocatively – but it was clean and fitted her tall, slim figure. The shy girl was an excellent hairdresser, Sarah was pleased to discover, and worshipfully clucked and fussed over her glossy, smooth tresses, so unlike Galena’s own crimped, short hair. As she finished up her task of placing a fragrant camellia entered the room. in the upswept style, Stewart

“I see clothes have been found for you, too,” Sarah said casually, though her heart raced with a sudden thrill at seeing Stewart immaculately attired in white breeches, hose, shirt, stock and vest and a rich green cutaway coat. His face seemed darker, more handsome, and his pearly teeth dazzled as he smiled his approval of her décolletage.

“Yes, our host is eager to please,” he replied ruefully, holding the jacket open for a moment. “It seems he has enough clothing here to outfit the capitals of Europe.” Turning for a moment to the reticent young girl, he spoke gently. “Galena, your handiwork is truly appreciated. My beautiful wife has not looked quite so ravishing since we first began our voyage.” Both women blushed under Stewart’s lazy perusal, but for entirely different reasons.

“Nowmaywehaveamomentofprivacy?I’d like to speak with Mrs. Chamberlain before dinner.” The maid bowed briefly, then beat a hasty retreat, a happy expression on her dark face. Sarah, on the other hand, frowned slightly, finding it uncomfortable to be alone with this tall and disturbingly handsome man. Pretending to fuss with her earrings in front of the looking glass on the dressing table, she spoke offhandedly.