Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] (27 page)

“Simple thieves have been known to hang. Trust me, the pirates will do so, too.”

“Including the Silver Hawk?”

“I shall escort you myself to the execution.”

She was silent. The pheasant was delicious; she had no appetite. The wine churned in her stomach.

“Let’s not speak of this, milady. The past is over; you are safe with me. You do seem well. You were not harmed? In any way?”

A dark flush came quickly to her features. The question, she knew, was far more intimate than the words alone could convey.

“I was treated well enough,” she said. She folded the corners of her napkin together in her lap. What did he know? Why did he stare at her so probingly, with his unusual eyes of silver, as riveting as the Hawk’s? He could know nothing! she told herself.

“You’re quite sure?” he asked.

“I was well treated!” she repeated.

“Tell me about it.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Tell me what happened. I am most anxious to hear, and the governor will want information, too.”

“I—”

“The ship was seized first by One-Eyed Jack and his men, is that right?”

“Uh—yes.”

“But then the prize was stolen from one pirate by another, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“The Hawk, of course, instantly knew your value.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

He stroked his chin. “How strange. He then decided to release you, asking nothing for you.” He leaned forward. “So you came to know him well.”

“Well enough.”

“And you were imprisoned separately from the others?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

The rapid, spitfire questions had her reeling, feeling deeply on the defensive. She leaped to her feet, allowing her chair to fall back. “Stop! I do not care to speak about it longer!”

“But you were treated well!” he reminded her.

“Lord Cameron!” She stared at him with all the icy reserve that she could summon. “I do not care to speak of it anymore! Not now, not ever! Governor Spotswood will seek out his pirates, and he will slay them all, no doubt! But I cannot go on tonight, do you understand me, sir?”

He came around, righting her chair. His hands fell upon her shoulders and she was startled by the strength of him. He spoke softly, his voice low, well modulated. He was a lord, a gentleman, yet more than ever she had the feeling that he was not to be underestimated, that a simmering anger lay deep within him, and that if it rose to the surface, it would be dangerous indeed.

“Sit, milady. I have not meant to distress you.”

“I am not distressed.”

“I am grateful to hear that. We will speak no more of it for now. The future lies before us, and we should not speak of the past.”

She raised her eyes to his. “I am grateful, Lord Cameron. I am very grateful for your presence here, for the fact that you came so swiftly to my rescue. I will not marry you.”

He arched a brow.

“You will not marry me?”

“No.”

“Your father gave promise.”

She shook her head impatiently. “I know, sir, that you did not wish to marry me—”

“Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

She gritted her teeth. “I have not changed mine.”

“I don’t think that you understand. My will is very strong.”

“I don’t think you understand. I promise that my will can be of steel when I so choose.”

“You cannot change what is.”

“But I do not want—”

“You insult my family name, milady,” he said pleasantly, but his eyes flashed their silver warning.

“This was a fool’s bargain made by two doting fathers when we were just children. I was an infant. You cannot hold me to this.” She pushed away from the table and stood. “If you will excuse me now, sir, I am very exhausted.”

He stood, too, and came around the table, blocking her way to the door. He did not touch her, but he watched her, and she didn’t know if his silver eyes danced with humor or fury.

“I’m afraid that I cannot excuse you as yet, milady.”

“Oh, and why is that? Truly, Lord Cameron, you are not displaying the manners of a good gentle peer in the least!”

“My apologies, milady. But there is something that you must know before you quit this cabin.”

She tossed back her head with her most imperious manner. “And what, pray tell, Lord Cameron, is that?”

“Only this, milady. Protest comes too late.”

“What are you talking about?” She frowned. A certain dread came to settle over her. She longed to flee before he could speak. There would be no way. She could not barge past him. He was too tall, towering against the door. His shoulders, for all their elegant apparel, were too broad.

“I’m afraid that by the law, we are legally wed.”

“What?”

“Your father was quite concerned even as you set sail from the English shore. We were wed by proxy the day you left London behind. You see, my dear, whether it pleases you or not, it is done.”

He waited, allowing the words to settle over her. She was silent, stunned. Her father could not have done such a thing to her!

He sighed deeply, but spoke with a frightening edge to his voice.

“Madame, you are my wife, and that is that.”

She shook her head, disbelieving. “No!”

“Yes.”

“I will fight it.”

“I will not allow you.”

“You must! You cannot love me! You must let me go.”

“No.”

He said the word with such finality that she found herself shivering.

But then he stepped aside from the door, opening it for her. He bowed deeply. She stiffened, and walked by him. He caught her arm briefly.

“I will never let you go,” he said. “You will become reconciled.”

“I will never become reconciled. We will be wretched!”

“Then wretched, my love, we will be.” He released her, bowing deeply. “Good night, my love.”

The door closed, and she was left alone in the hallway.

X

S
kye stormed down the corridor to the door to her own cabin. She cast it open to step inside, and when she did, the darkness surrounded her.

She leaned against the door, swallowing, closing her eyes.

If only!

If only One-Eyed Jack had never spotted the
Silver Messenger
, if only the Silver Hawk had not come behind him. She had been mistress upon the
Silver Messenger
, her father’s ship, and she had never needed to fear the darkness there, for she had always been surrounded by lamps and candles. Now, no matter what her feelings for the man, no matter what lay between them, she would have to go with him. The clammy hand of terror was already upon her. If she did not move swiftly …

She moved away from the door just as a tap came upon it. It opened, and she saw that Lord Cameron stood there, a lamp in his hands glowing cheerfully against the darkness. “Milady,” he murmured, bowing to her and handing her the light.

Unnerved, she felt her fingers tremble as she took it from him. “How did you know!” she gasped out.

“It is my ship. That is why I knew that there was no lamp here,” he told her.

He had known that there was no light, not that she was terrified beyond reason of the darkness.

“And,” he added, “your father has warned me that you do not care for the darkness.”

“Oh,” she murmured, lowering her lashes. Drat father! she thought. What had he been doing to her? Giving away her every secret, and selling her, body and soul! “Er … thank you,” she managed. Still, he hovered there in her doorway. Darkness hid his eyes and his features and she sensed him on different levels. Perhaps the Hawk had made her more attuned to the body. She felt the heat and energy of his presence, and breathed the scent of him. He smelled of very fine leather and good Virginia tobacco in a subtle and pleasant way. He was not at all, as a man, repulsive.

He was her husband, or so he claimed, she reminded herself, and was seized with a fierce shivering. He had given her a separate cabin, she quickly assured herself. He would not fall upon her, he would not demand his marital rights.

But perhaps he would!

He stepped through the doorway and looked about the cabin. “Is everything to your comfort?”

“Everything is fine!” she cried with vehemence. He looked her way, a smile curving into his lip. “You are very nervous, milady.”

“I have been greatly unnerved by your comments.”

“You mustn’t despair.” He came closer to her. She backed against the wall, turning her head from his, terrified that he meant to touch her. She had fallen from the arms of one charming rogue to another, she thought briefly, one a pirate and one a lord, and both far too arrogant and assured.

His knuckles grazed over her cheek. She barely held back a scream, and a soft gasp escaped her.

“You are my wife,” he said.

“I am not your wife!” She stared at him again, her eyes sizzling. “And don’t be so sure that all the pirates shall hang! I have come from London, sir, and I am far more abreast of certain news. I was in the mother country when Queen Anne
died, when they reached over to Hanover for King George. The rights for trial upon men such as Hornigold and Blackbeard and—and the Silver Hawk—must come directly from the monarch. No new commissions have been granted by King George as yet. It was my understanding—”

“My dear lady, do tell me! Just what is your understanding, and from where do you draw upon it?”

“I do read the papers, Lord Cameron. And there was a great deal of talk in high places about the king offering a pardon to what pirates would surrender and swear an oath by a certain date. Perhaps these fellows will surrender, and there will be no need for murder.”

“Murder! You call the death of a pirate murder?”

He spoke with a certain ferocity, but she sensed that he was smiling beneath it. Was he laughing at her? Was he furious with her? She didn’t know.

“Bloodshed, Lord Cameron.”

“You are opinionated.”

“Yes! I am most opinionated, and very brash and outspoken, not at all ladylike, and surely not possessing qualities that you might want in a wife!”

“Ah! So you admit that you are my wife!”

“No!” she cried, alarmed, pressing ever backward against the paneling. She tried to straighten, to stand firm. He was a gentleman, a lord. He would not seize her, would he? “No! Why in God’s name are you doing this! I had thought you opposed to this barbaric treatment of marriage, of—”

“I have discovered myself quite pleased—Lady Cameron,” he said very softly. Chills swept along her spine. There was something about his speech … the soft, low, deeply modulated tone and cadence of it reminded her of the other. She was suddenly desperate for him to leave. She would have said anything just to be free of his presence then.

“Milord—” she whispered, but it was not necessary. He did not touch her, he moved away from her.

“There is ample oil for the lamp to burn until daylight,” he said softly.

Then he left her, closing the door behind himself.

Skye remained against the paneling for a long time. Then
she slowly exhaled and, in time, pushed away from the wall and sank down to her bed. She lay there fully clothed and thought wretchedly of the morning, and of the night that had passed before. She could not forget the Hawk. She could not stop thinking of everything that had passed between them, and she could not stop feeling as if her very heart bled. She could not love such a man; she could not even care for him! But she did. Heat washed over her with memory. Yet how carelessly, how callously, he had cast her aside! He spoke of money and ransom endlessly, yet she had, in the end, been worthless to him. He was a pirate; she had been a whim, an adventure, and the adventure was over now.

The adventure was over.…

And a tall bewigged stranger with silver eyes was telling her that she was his wife!

It was too much. Too much. She longed then for nothing but home. For Williamsburg. For market square with its endless fairs, for the bowling green where she had often played and laughed with the other children. Williamsburg, with her planned and beautiful, broad streets. With the College of William and Mary, her endless bustle of students and scholars, her law debates, her fashionable and tawdry taverns …