Surrender of a Siren (40 page)

She knew she ought to tell Gray the truth. But once she did, all the choices would be his. He might insist on marrying her anyway, thereby destroying his sister’s prospects and his family’s tenuous respectability— everything he’d worked so hard, sacrificed so much to attain.

Or … he might let her go.

Sophia buried her face in her hands. How could she tell him? How could she tell him what an inconstant, dishonest, scheming thing she had been, yet still make a claim on his honor? How could she force him to make this choice, between his love for his family and his promises to her?

How would she bear it if he chose them?

The irony of it all. If only she’d have been brave enough to stand up to her parents, to ask Toby to release her from their engagement instead of running away. There would have been scandal, to be sure, but she still would have received the occasional invitation from old friends. And perhaps next Season, she would have attended a ball, a mad crush of a debut, and locked gazes with a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman sporting a roguish smile and an intriguing scar on his chin.

Perhaps he would have asked her to dance.

The sunlight gilded that scar now, as well as the larger one on his chest. How she envied those scars, the indelible marks he bore for love. One for his brother, one for his sister. In some primitive way, Sophia wanted to mark him, too. He might never see it, never know it—but in her heart, he would always be hers.

Rifling quietly through her trunk, she located an inkwell and a small paintbrush. As she settled beside him on the bed, he stirred … but did not wake. Instead, he rolled onto his side, away from her. Perfect.

Fortunately, Sophia had a deft touch and a steady hand. And Gray was exhausted and sleeping like the dead. She worked quickly, stealthily to create her mark. Just as she sat back to admire her sadly impermanent handiwork, footsteps pounded above and the cry rang out:

“Land ho!”

“There’s the
Aphrodite,”
Gray said, squeezed next to her in the jolly boat as a crewman rowed them toward Road Town. Of course, Gray had insisted she and her trunks be the first items taken ashore. He would not have left her behind.

He nodded toward his ship, moored on the other side of the harbor. “Probably arrived a few days ago now, so they’ll be looking for our arrival. I wouldn’t be surprised to see Bel waiting on the dock.”

“I hope she is not there.” The words popped out. She ventured a glance at him, meeting with the expected frown.

“Why?” he asked. “I thought you looked forward to meeting her.”

“I do,” Sophia lied. “It’s just, I don’t feel ready, dressed like this. I should like to make a better first impression.”

Gray looked resplendent indeed this morning, fitted out in a crisp lawn shirt, dove-gray trousers, and a royal blue coat that barely contained his massive shoulders. He must have been saving the outfit for just this occasion, his triumphant homecoming. Sophia felt drab and common at his side, dressed in her beleaguered sprigged frock. She, too, had an item of truly splendid attire she might have worn. But the silk gown remained wrapped in tissue at the bottom of her trunk. If she was truly going to do this —tell Gray the whole truth and give him a chance to let her go—well, to look that beautiful hardly seemed fair.

“Shall I introduce you as Jane, then?” He gave her a bemused look. “I can’t even think of you as Jane. It’s the wrong name for you entirely.”

Sophia’s hands curled into fists. He was giving her the perfect opportunity. She might as well do it now. “That’s because it’s not my name.”

His jaw tightened, and his thumb ceased stroking her palm. In an instant, a wall of ice had formed between them.

Sophia forced herself to speak. “It’s my middle name. You see, I … I …” Her courage failed. “My family always used my middle name.”

His hard expression melted to a grin. “Another thing we have in common.” He slid an arm about her waist, drawing her close.

Cursing her cowardice, Sophia leaned against him. Just the thought of it … telling him everything, watching him struggle to choose between her and his dreams … She felt her bonnet ribbons constricting about her throat, cutting off her air. Desperation tugged at her, urging her to flee.

But this was not London. Tortola was so small, so un-crowded, so unfamiliar to her and known to Gray. From the boat she could see the settlement of Road Town rising up from the harbor like an amphitheater, all the largest buildings crowded near the water. People milled about the docks, nearly all of them shades of brown or ebony. How could a female, fair-skinned interloper like her possibly hope to disappear? Where would she turn, if he let her go?

The Walthams
. She had this one connection. Perhaps they were still here. She could claim her acquaintance with Lucy. Better yet, she could claim to
be
Lucy. She still had the original letter, after all.

His confident baritone caressed her ear. “Don’t be nervous. You’re beautiful. I’m so proud of you, I think my coat will burst from it.”

“It’s lovely here,” she said, wanting to change the subject.

“I suppose it is, to a newcomer. Though it’s only home for me.”

Sophia didn’t think she could ever greet such a sight with indifference, even after de cades. The lush, verdant island rimmed with white sand, set against a backdrop of azure sky … it would take her dozens of attempts to render these brilliant colors faithfully.

“Yes, there she is,” Gray said as they neared the dock. “I think she’s grown two inches since I saw her last.” Releasing Sophia’s waist, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Bel!”

A young woman stood on the dock. She wore no bonnet, but shielded her eyes with both hands. At Gray’s salute, she dropped one to her throat and raised the other in a wave.

From this distance, Sophia couldn’t judge whether Miss Grayson had her father’s ears, but her coloring was vastly different from either of her brothers’. She had olive skin and jet-black hair, so black it reflected a bluish gloss from the sky.

Heavens, Sophia thought as they docked. Miss Grayson was a
true
beauty. Hers was an exotic, medieval, operatic beauty—a beauty that radiated from within. The kind of beauty that inspired men to compose odes and wage wars, and inspired ladies to make unkind comments in retiring rooms. No wonder Gray would do anything for her.

How could Sophia ever withstand comparison to this creature? Drat. She should have worn the silk after all.

The young lady ran to meet their boat at the end of the dock. Her breathless greeting preempted any introductions. “Oh, thank God.” She gulped for air. “Thank God you’ve arrived. They’re coming for you, you know. They’ve already taken Joss.” Her hand fluttered like a bird’s wing. “Dolly, there’s talk of hanging.”

Dear Lord, had she just said—

“Hanging?” Gray helped Sophia out of the boat, then bounded onto the dock. He took his sister by the shoulders. “Bel, calm down. Tell me what’s happened.”

Miss Grayson swallowed hard. “When Joss brought the
Aphrodite
in, that horrid man … the other captain—”

“Mallory,” Gray supplied impatiently.

“Yes, him. He went to the Vice Admiralty court and accused you of attacking him, taking his ship by force. They’ve put Joss in jail, and they’re coming for you.” She glanced over her shoulder. A trio of disconcertingly large men strode toward them. “They’re charging you both with piracy.”

At the word, Sophia went queasy. The dock lurched under her. She was on solid land now—or solid wood, at any rate—why did it still feel as though she were at sea?

Gray did not seem perturbed in the least. “I was expecting this. Mallory’s nothing but a lying bilge rat, Bel. I’ll have it straightened out in a minute, you’ ll see.” He smiled at Sophia. “And then I’ve someone you’ll be glad to meet.”

Sophia and Miss Grayson barely had time to exchange befuddled looks before the men were upon them.

“Jenkins.” Gray greeted the man in front with a nod. Sophia recognized his posture of effortless authority. “Always a pleasure.”

“Welcome back, Gray. Good to see you, too.” The man’s gaze shifted to his companions, then back to Gray.

“What can I do for you, man? My sister tells me there’s been a misunderstanding about the
Kestrel
.”

“Seems so,” Jenkins said. “Gray, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us straightaway. We’ve orders to hold you until the judge has a chance to question you and decide on charges.”

“There won’t be any charges,” Gray said, chuckling. “But I’ll be glad to come, just as soon as I’ve seen to my passengers and crew.”

The man looked uneasy. “It’ll have to be now, Gray.” He made a motion to the two men in back, and they stepped forward, holding a pair of shackles between them.

Gray took a step back. “Surely there’s no need for chains.” He looked from one soldier to another. “I’m a patriot. I brought more than sixty prizes into this harbor and surrendered them all to the Crown. Burton knows that.”

“Burton’s been gone eight months. The new judge—he’s called Fitzhugh—well, he wants you brought in wearing chains, public-like. Fond of display, this one.” Jenkins shuffled his feet. “We’ll leave the shackles loose. Just come willingly, Gray. Let’s not make it an ugly display.”

Gray swore with exasperation, but he didn’t resist. Stepping a few yards back, he held out his hands. Jenkins directed the two younger soldiers as they fitted metal bands around his wrists.

Sophia touched Miss Grayson’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” she whispered, as much to herself as to her companion. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

“I know.” The young lady sniffed. “Dolly always finds a way out of these things.”

“Who’s Dolly?”

“Why, my brother.”

Sophia blinked. Was there a third Grayson brother with square-tipped ears?

“You probably call him Gray,” the young lady continued, giving her a cautious smile. “Most people do.”

Dolly was Gray? Oh dear. No wonder his sister was the sole lady on earth permitted to address him by his Christian name.

The soldiers began shackling his legs now, working awkwardly to fit the bands around Gray’s ankles.

“I thought his name was Benedict,” Sophia murmured.

“Oh it is, but that was our father’s name. He’s always gone by his middle name, Adolphus. Dolly.” Miss Grayson turned to her. “You know my brother quite well, then. Forgive me the lapse in etiquette, we haven’t even been introduced.” She dropped a little curtsy. “I’m Isabel Grayson. Were you a passenger on the
Kestrel?”

“No, I left England on the
Aphrodite
. Didn’t Joss mention me?”

Miss Grayson shook her head. “We didn’t have much time to speak. But if Dolly says I’ll be glad to meet you, I have a fair guess …” Suddenly she grasped Sophia’s hand. “You must be one of Mr. Wilson’s friends, with the West Indian Missions League. I’m so glad you’ve come. We’ve so many plans for the sugar cooperative. And we can take you to the judge. Even if he won’t believe Dolly, surely he cannot discount the testimony of a missionary.”

A missionary?
Sophia’s mind whirled. Of all the preposterous assumptions … oh, but if only it were true. Then she might have been some help to Gray. But she, a fallen woman, a liar and a thief, walking into a courtroom to speak on his behalf? She could do his cause nothing but harm.

Oh God. He was better off without her.

Finally, the soldiers finished their task. At the sight of her brother in chains, Miss Grayson began to weep.

“All right, Jenkins,” Gray muttered, his voice seething. “I’m wearing your shackles. I’ll come willingly. Surely you can spare me a minute first.” At the command in his eyes, the men fell back a few paces.

Gray turned to his sister. “Bel,” he said quietly, “there’s a handkerchief in my breast pocket. Take it.” She obeyed, and wiped her eyes. He smiled down at her. “Now is this any way to greet your prodigal brother? I’d planned to come home a respectable tradesman.” He glanced toward Sophia. “Not just that, but a family man. Instead, I stand before you as a pirate in chains.”

He laughed, but Sophia wanted to cry. Once again, his best efforts at brotherhood had been twisted and distorted by fate. She could see in his expression how it wounded him. The thought of tainting Miss Grayson’s prospects, being the cause of that pain …

“Just the same,” he teased his sister, “I’d rather hoped for a kiss.”

Miss Grayson gave him a tremulous smile and went up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s better. Now don’t worry. I’ll have this straightened out directly.” His eyes went back and forth between Sophia and his sister. “In the meantime, the two of you can become acquainted.” He rattled his chains, adding a self-deprecating roll of his eyes. Then he walked a few paces back, toward the men.

Sophia’s dizziness increased, and the dock seemed to roll beneath her again. She felt as though she would become ill, or fall. And with Gray chained like a criminal, who would catch her?

She closed her eyes. If she ran now … he couldn’t catch her.

She had to go. If she were a better person, a
good
person, she might have gathered the courage to tell the truth and accept her fate. She might have even been able to help him. But if she were a good person, she would not have been here in the first place. She didn’t know how to change her colors, any more than a dolphin-fish knew how to change its iridescent scales.