Gentle Pirate (8 page)

Dear Kirsten:

I know you'll be coming home when you've had a chance to calm down. Like most women, you're too emotional for your own good. Unfortunately, there's a chance I won't be waiting in the doorway to greet my errant bride. If that's the case, you'll be reading this letter instead. I'm going to the cabin for a few days until the atmosphere settles. When you return I want you to wait two weeks for me. If I haven't put in an appearance by then, take the Heart and the lighter to Phil Hagood. He's never met you but he'll recognize the medal and the old Zippo. Tell him to remember me occasionally when he uses the lighter. Will you think of me once in a while, also?

It was signed, simply, Jim.

"Who's Phil Hagood?" Simon had been reading over her shoulder.

"A buddy from Vietnam, I think. Jim used to keep his address handy." Kirsten's surprise at the strange letter had cooled some of her anger. She reread it quickly and this time shook her head in exasperation.

"The personality of Jim Talbot is totally summed up in that first sentence," Kirsten told Simon dryly, tapping the letter with one finger. "The man actually had the gall to think I'd come back to him!"

"What exactly did he do to you, Kirsten?" Simon pushed gently, curious eyes intently studying her thoughfully bent head.

Kirsten sighed and slanted a resenIful glance up at him. Having lost the main battle, there didn't seem to be any reason not to give up the minor skirmishes, too. At least for now.

"I met Jim Talbot. correction, Lieutenant James Talbot, USMC, six months ago. He was no longer in the Marines, you understand, but a Marine never forgets. Or is that an elephant? At any rate, I made, as I stated earlier, the biggest mistake of my life and thought he was what I wanted for a husband. I was assisted in that decision by the fact that my father, also an ex-Marine, thought Jim was terrific. I now realize that having worn the uniform, the man could do no wrong in Dad's eyes. For some idiotic reason I considered my father a good judge of men. Jim and I were married within a month. He began playing around almost immediately. I guess it would be more accurate to say he had never stopped playing around. I was pleased to make the discovery because it gave me the excuse I had been looking for since the first week of my marriage to leave."

Kirsten paused to see how Simon was taking the narrative. He was back to lounging against the refrigerator, she noticed. His expression was attentive but blank. Drawing a breath, she continued.

"I had found myself married to a man incapable of really caring for others. A wife was a convenience, a toy. In my case she was also the daughter of a World War II lieutenant colonel who was awarded the Navy Cross for valor in action. The Marines were the only thing Jim had ever cared about. The idea of marrying 'in the family,' so to speak, intrigued him for a while. For my part I was quite dazzled. He was witty, charming, intelligent, and my father approved completely. Also, as you, yourself, mentioned this morning, I wasn't getting any younger and it didn't look like the great love of my life would ever appear. I decided to settle for a romance that I could nourish into something stronger. I reminded myself of all those tales one hears of love growing after the wedding. But nothing grew after this marriage. Just the opposite. Things fell apart quite rapidly. Then I made the discovery that Jim was seeing another woman and I told him very calmly that I was going to file for divorce. It was then I discovered that, in addition to his other attributes, Jim Talbot could be a very brutal man."

"What happened, Kirsten?" Simon prodded in his deep, patient voice.

With a start, Kirsten realized she was no longer seeing the big man leaning against her refrigerator. She wasn't seeing anything in her kitchen, for that matter. Instead, she was in another town, reliving another event in a different apartment.

"He beat me," she whispered. "So badly I thought he would kill me."

She heard Simon draw in his breath with a small, harsh sound and refocused her gaze on him. Lifting her head proudly, she finished the story.

"That's the whole tale. Our little confrontation occurred late one night after he had returned from a date. He'd had a few drinks and I probably should have had the sense to face him in the morning. But I wanted out! I got out, all right. In fact, I was unconscious." She smiled with bitter self-mockery.

"When I awoke he had passed out on the bed. I grabbed my purse, the keys to my car, and made it to a hotel several miles away before I collapsed. The next morning I phoned a lawyer friend and had her start the divorce action. I never saw Jim alive again. The rest you know. He was killed a week later and I did my best to put the whole mess behind me. I only went back to the apartment on one occasion in order to collect my clothes and pay some bills." Kirsten nodded toward the shoebox. "That hadn't arrived yet and I suppose it's been following me around ever since."

With what she privately felt to be an amazing example of self-control, Kirsten pulled herself together and glared at Simon. "Well? Now you know the entire sordid story. Aren't you appalled to discover that the woman you decided you 'wanted,' at least for this week, is trampling on the honored memory of an ex-Marine?"

"Hush, Kirsten," he whispered, straightening and coming toward her in one large stride. "It's all over now," he added, folding her back into his giant embrace and rocking her gently as if she were a child. "You did the right things all along, you know. You acknowledged the mistake of marrying Talbot and you got out. There's no reason in the world why you should feel obliged to limit your social life out of respect for the dead. Especially when the dead doesn't deserve it. Building a new life is much more important than remembering an old one that was a disaster from the first!"

Kirsten stood stiffly in his arms and listened as he talked softly. How much of this comfort was real, she wondered dismally, and how much was prompted by his desire for her?

"You're not the only one to make the mistake of marrying the wrong person, honey. Hell, I did the same damn fool thing when I was twenty-nine. A full-grown man who should have known better. Someday I'll tell you all about it. Now all I can say is that I'm sorry Jim Talbot is dead. It would have been such a pleasure to have bashed in his head!" Simon concluded with great feeling.

Kirstcn, who had been perilously close to tears, suddenly found herself unable to contain a burst of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Simon demanded, pulling back to get a look at her face.

"The thought of you bashing Jim Talbot! A typical Marine approach to the situation! Still, it might have been interesting to see him try and talk you out of beating him up on the grounds that you had both been comrades in arms! He was big. too, but not quite as large as you. You probably could have crunched him, but, then again, maybe not. He used to be proud of the fact that he didn't mind flghting dirty!"

"What Marine isn't?" Simon smiled smoothly, one large finger flicking the hint of a tear away from the corner of her overly bright eye. The silver of the hook gleamed for a moment in the morning sun as he lowered his arms.

Kirsten shook her head, grimly aware that she never would understand the male approach to life. At least, not the approach of very large, macho types such as ex-Marines!

"So Talbot put a lot of stock in the fact that he had been a Marine, did he?" Simon went on musingly, apparently unaware of Kirsten's disgust.

"I think his time in the service was the only thing that ever meant anything at all to him," she sighed. "All of his other emotions seemed superficial, almost falsely dramatic, like that hint in the letter that he might not ever see me again. But he really did care about the Marines." Kirsten tossed one braid back over a shoulder, amazed to find some of her earlier resentment against Simon disappearing. He was the first person she had ever told about Jim Talbot and after the past months of silence, it was a relief to talk it out. Even her father had never heard the full story.

"Are you ready to eat now that you've completed the inquisition?" she asked on a carefully flippant note.

"I'm starving. In all fairness I ought to warn you that I didn't get this size from eating a slice of toast and a cup of coffee in the mornings, which is probably what you subsist on." Simon responded lightly, a crooked little smile touching his mouth. It was astounding, Kirsten thought inconsequentially, how many of his smiles actually did reach his eyes. Yesterday she had been quite certain none of them ever did.

"Is that a hint that I'm supposed to use a couple of extra eggs in the omelets?" she demanded darkly, grateful to be able to get onto another subject and put the past behind her again.

"Umm. And lots of toast with jam and butter. I'll set the table," he added, opening drawers until he found the one he wanted. "Aha! I thought I remembered seeing the silverware when I was picking up this morning!"

"I-I haven't thanked you for what you did in here." She waved in the general direction of the living room, concentrating on counting out the eggs she needed. "It was nice of you to get some of that stuff off the floor and back where it belonged." It took an effort to thank him, but Kirsten was aware she owed him that much.

"It was the least I could do after making use of your couch last night. Although my back may never be the same." he added reflectively as he set the napkins and glasses on the small round kitchen table, which had been designed to resemble an old-fashioned ice-cream-parlor table.

"You have only yourself to blame," Kirsten began severely as she whipped the eggs furiously.

"But, Kirsten, honey! You made it very plain that I wasn't welcome to share your bed and I didn't care for the idea of sleeping on the floor…" He caught her eye with an expectant look. "Maybe tonight you'll take pity on me and let me try your bed?"

"No!" She flung the eggs into the pan with a savage motion, her softer feelings toward the man evaporating rapidly. "I sleep alone, Simon Kendrick, and will for a long time to come! Besides," she went on spitefully, "if you turned in your sleep, you'd probably crush me to death!"

She was unaware that he had moved up behind her until his hand settled on her small waist. Kirsten continued to watch the omelet as if it were a snake.

"I'd be very, very careful with you, Kirsten," he murmured in a low, roughly textured tone and then he dropped a feather-light kiss on the soft nape of her neck. The sensations it produced made her tremble ever so slightly.

"Excuse me," she said firmly, reaching for a warm plate. "The eggs will be ruined if I don't get them out of the pan soon."

Simon said nothing but she knew he was smiling as he went back to finish setting the table. Overbearing, overconfident, and overwhelming man!

Kirsten served the meal in silence and they ate without much conversation. She was astounded at the amount of food he could consume.

"Have you ever had to watch your weight?" she asked finally as the sixth piece of toast disappeared.

"Never," he stated with satisfaction, deftly buttering a seventh slice single-handedly. "What time does the manager's office open, honey?" he asked, chewing.

"Why?" she retorted suspiciously. She had given up on the idea of trying to make him stop calling her "honey." Two days of knowing Simon Kendrick were enough to make her realize that he tended to do exactly as he wished. Lord! She was going to have to be careful!

"We have to report this little disaster, of course," he said reasonably enough. Then he added blightingly, "Also, I'm going to see if there's a vacancy. Why do you think?" A domineering look challenged her to protest.

"Simon…" she began spiritedly, only to be cut off before she could finish the sentence.

"What are you going to do? Move out if I get an apartment next door to you?" He grinned, reaching for his coffee cup. "It's still somewhat of a free country, sweetheart. I can live anywhere I wish. And you're much too feisty to let the thought of me living nearby drive you away!"

"You're absolutely right!" Kirsten retorted, outraged. "I don't intend to move again. But I warn you, Simon Kendrick, if you interfere in my life, invade my privacy, I'll…"

"You'll what?" he inquired interestedly, sitting back in his chair.

"I'll call the cops and tell them you're annoying me!" she managed, feeling quite harrassed. Weren't there laws against harrassment? She wished profoundly that the delicately designed chair on which he was sitting would simply give way beneath him.

Simon seemed unimpressed by her threats. Instead he climbed to his feet and began clearing the table.

He was as good as his word, of course. An hour later, after a trip back to the hotel to shave, he was at the manager's office. Kirsten refused to go with him, trying to pretend a complete indifference to the whole matter of where he lived. Irritating man! If only he wasn't so large, she found herself thinking as she made the bed. If he were, say more the size of Ben Williamson… She tried to imagine sparring with Ben the way she had with Simon this morning. The thought wasn't disagreeable. It would certainly liven up the relationship with the younger man! The comparison, however, reinforced the knowledge of a fact she had been doing her best to ignore lately. Ben Williamson was a very nice, very boring young man!

With a frustrated punch at the pillow, Kirsten wondered why life played such mean tricks. Why couldn't Ben have been just a bit more exciting? Why did high-voltage excitement have to come packaged in such a huge man as Simon Kendrick? With a groan, Kirsten sat down heavily on the bed. Was that what she was feeling around Simon? Excitement? Good grief! Hadn't she learned her lesson? What was the matter with her, anyway?

Never again, she reminded herself firmly. Never again would she trust a man of Simon's size and domineering ways not to use his strength against her! She had to be wary. Surely she had learned from Jim Talbot that such men couldn't be relied upon. The momentary thrills they were capable of generating were a poor substitute for genuine love and affection. And Simon Kendrick was far more dangerous than her first husband, Kirsten realized with a rush of fear. Because never, ever, had she felt the level of excitement with Jim that Simon had made her experience in his arms this morning! Did she really need any more warning than that?