A Pirate's Possession (35 page)

Even though, she thought with a tug of sadness, she'd failed where Nate was concerned.

She'd had time to think on the voyage to San Salvador, and she'd realized and accepted the mistakes she'd made. She hadn't trusted Nate or anybody. He was right when he'd said she'd been waiting for him to fail her. No man had ever made her a promise and kept it. Yes, Nate had come back, but he hadn't fought for her, hadn't even sought her out to discover why she was marrying another man. He'd simply learned of her engagement and left.

They'd wronged each other, Claire realized. He hadn't trusted in her love enough to realize there had to be a reason she'd marry another man, and she hadn't trusted Nate enough to give him a chance to make amends for that.

She didn't hear anyone coming until a voice spoke from behind her. Claire jumped a little, then turned to face Marie.

“Begging your pardon, miss. I was just saying we are ready for this evening. I've overseen the cooking, and it's going to be ready on time. The flowers will be cut fresh and placed in vases one hour before the guests are due to arrive. The musicians will also be arriving at that time to have everything in order before the guests arrive.”

Claire already knew all that as she'd personally seen to it. Trust, she thought again with a sad shake of her head, simply didn't come easily for her. But there was a lot at stake tonight, much more than a ball to raise some money to help keep the orphanage running smoothly. Not that Claire couldn't do it on her own, but there were other wealthy people on the island and it was past time they helped those less fortunate. It was time they paid.

“Thank you, Marie. It all looks wonderful.”

Nodding, the woman left and slipped into the kitchen. Claire looked around once more. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Tonight. It all came down to tonight.

Outside, she stopped to look at the sign that hung from a black iron pole. She'd commissioned the local blacksmith to fashion it. Although Alicia could have done the work, it was faster and simpler—the local blacksmith didn't know Nate—to have it made here. It swayed slightly with the breeze.

“He'd have loved it.”

Claire spun round. Her heart clutched as her eyes latched on to Nate's. He was there. How was it he was there?

“Nate.”

He pointed a large hand to the sign. “I'd have helped you with that, had I known.”

“I know,” she answered, for she'd never doubted that. “It was something I needed to do.” She shrugged. “It was the least I could do.”

“He didn't blame you. I didn't blame you. None of us did.”

She'd realized that on the ship as well. It was easier to assume the worst because then the heart didn't get so deeply involved. But looking at his soft green eyes, seeing his hair play in the breeze, and hearing the deep tone of his voice, she knew it was too late. Her heart was already as involved as it could ever be.

“You didn't have to. I carried enough for everyone.”

He angled his head. “And now?”

“I'm working on accepting that some things are simply meant to be.”

She saw the change in his eyes immediately. And felt the trip in her heart.

“Would you and I be included in that?”

Her breath caught until she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I'm working my way up to it.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing Claire had ever seen. She'd missed it. She'd missed him. Enough to know what needed to be done. Enough to be willing to do it, despite the tremor of fear that rippled along her skin.

“Before we go any further, Nate, there's something I have to do.”

He pulled himself back. She saw it in the press of his lips and the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He scrubbed his hands over his face and dropped them at his sides.

She took one of them between hers and pressed it to her heart.

“I could use your help. Come with me and I'll explain.”

 

 

Candles flickered from the tables. Soft music drifted through the room. Women in fancy gowns were swept along by their equally attired dance partners. For one night, this one night, there were no children present. Only businessmen. Rich businessmen. One in particular, wearing a dark brown suit, held Claire's interest. Her soon-to-be former husband, Quinn Litton. As the wine and brandy flowed through the room, Claire watched his progress.

She danced with who needed to be danced with in order to extract more money for the orphanage. Her smile was genuine and her laughter soft. As her gown swept the floor in the dance, there was no sign of the Claire who'd lived in the forest, who'd owned nothing. But inside, where her heart impatiently waited for justice, that Claire waited with bated breath.

When Litton excused himself from the man he'd been speaking with, Claire graciously declined another offer to dance and followed him out into the garden.

Like the inside, the outside had been cleaned and tended. Red, yellow, and pink flowers overflowed the pots that had been placed around the yard. Lanterns hung from poles and created a softly lit path designed to lure couples out for a walk. Or in this case, to lure a lone man into taking a stroll while he enjoyed his cigar.

Claire absently smiled at men and women who passed her on their way back inside. She couldn't have said later what they'd looked like. Her attention was all for the bastard she was following. She waited until he stopped and lit his cigar. When the end glowed red and a plume of smoke rose from his mouth, Claire let herself be known.

“I'm glad you came,” she said, stepping into the glow of a lantern. “It saves me the trouble of having to go looking for you.”

He squinted through the smoke. “Claire? My God, it is you. You look”—his eyes slid over her like a thousand snakes—“delicious.”

“And you're vile as you've ever been.”

He chuckled. “You're the only one here who thinks so.”

“Oh, I think not,” Claire said, smiling now. “Everyone in this town hates you.”

He chuckled, and inhaled again. “Be that as it may, they'll never say so. I own this town.”

“Not anymore.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing the cigar in his hand bobble. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” he said.

“You will. The merchants in this town will no longer step aside and let you run roughshod on its people. They don't need your money anymore.”

He laughed. “Not only do they need it, they already owe it to me. With interest.”

“Paid in full, as of today. They aren't dependent on you any longer. I've seen to that.”

He threw down his cigar and took a step toward her. “I don't know how you came up with the money to do this”—he gestured to the orphanage—“but I'll see to it the doors close. And this time, they won't reopen. As for the merchants in this town? They would be out of business without me and they know it. They'll never step out against me.”

Her smile was fearless. “I've gambled for less. Let's go inside, see where the cards fall.”

“You lying—”

His hand came up fast, but Nate was faster. He grabbed Litton from behind, crushed the man's hand in his fist. Quinn yelled, and dropped to his knees when Nate increased the pressure.

“The lady doesn't lie,” Nate growled. “And I'll help her bury you any way I can.”

Claire beamed when Nate met her gaze and winked.

“What do you want?” Litton whimpered.

Claire bent down so she could look Litton in the eye. “You closed this orphanage down. I think it only right your money goes into keeping it open.”

“What?” His eyes rounded. “I won't! And you can—ah, let go! Let go! You're breaking my hand!”

“Which is such a shame,” Nate said.

“Your money for your life. I think that's a fair trade.”

Sweat poured down Litton's temples. Spit gathered at the corners of his mouth.

“What'll it be?” she asked.

“I'll do it, I'll do it! How much do you want?”

He whimpered when Claire told him the figure.

“That's robbery!” he yelled.

“That's justice,” Claire corrected. She stood upright, turned to go, and knew the sweetest victory when his pathetic voice called her back.

“All right. Dammit. All right. I agree.”

“Yes, I thought you might.” She signaled to the man who waited on the steps at the back door. “Mr. Anderson, right on time,” she said as her attorney joined them. “Quinn, I'd like you to meet Mr. Anderson, my attorney. He has all the papers ready for you to sign.”

“Sign?” he whined.

“Yes. I may be a gambler, but some things I want in writing, which includes our divorce.

“Marie is waiting in the office behind the kitchen. She'll witness the transaction. And to ensure you don't run like the coward you are,” Claire said, “Nate will escort you inside.”

Mr. Anderson went in first, and as Nate pushed Litton along, she heard Nate whisper, “I happen to know Sam Steele personally. If you ever give Claire or the orphanage any more trouble, I'll escort him to your house myself.”

Claire threw her head back and laughed. Then, as she waited for Nate to come back outside, she looked at the orphanage, at the people moving behind the windows, and thought to herself,
This is where it all started. It's only right this is where it all ends.

Nate stepped outside, filling the doorway as surely as he filled her heart. She waited for him to join her in the yard, underneath the stars and the moon, where her heart galloped inside her chest.

“Papers are signed and in Mr. Anderson's hands. The first payment is due on Monday.”

Claire breathed deeply, then released a long, slow breath. “Well, that feels good.”

Nate swept in and took her in his arms. His kiss was soft, full of promise.

“Not as good as that feels.” He grinned.

“No,” Claire agreed. “Nothing feels quite as good as that.” She breathed him in, then touched her palm to his cheek. “We make a good team. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

He turned his head and kissed her palm. “I love you, Claire. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that back on Isla de Hueso and I'm so damn proud of you. Of what you did here, for yourself, for the children. For Vincent.” His eyes shone in the flickering light. “He'd be so touched.”

“I'm sorry,” Marie said as she came forward. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“That's all right. Marie, I'd like you to meet—”

“Claire's future husband, if she'll have me.”

Claire's hand flew to her chest.

“I mean it. Claire, I love you. I built that house for us. Even when I thought I couldn't have you, I wanted it to remind me of you. Now I want to share it with you.”

Marie sniffed. Claire had a hard time containing her heart within her chest.

“I'm sorry it's taken me so long to learn that I don't have to do everything by myself.” Her smile was watery. “I can't guarantee that I won't forget every now and then.”

“I'll be here to remind you,” he said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead then dipped lower and took her mouth. He lingered, his mouth warm and firm against hers. His hands slipped behind her back and drew her tightly against him.

Claire hung on as the kiss turned seductive, as the promises within it sparked her blood. His tongue slid around hers and they both sighed.

“Ahem,” Marie said from her side.

Claire smiled, then drew back. She looked at the blushing woman. “I'm sorry, I forgot for a moment you were there.”

“Understandable, miss,” she replied, and grinned. “I wanted to let you know the food is ready. May we serve it now?”

“Yes, please. And Marie,” she called when the woman stepped away. “If I increase your salary, do you think you could manage to run this orphanage without me?”

Marie staggered, then stopped. She studied Claire and Nate for a moment, and when she smiled, it was a knowing smile. “I imagine I could at that. May I ask where it is you're going?”

Claire turned to Nate, her heart so full it was bursting.

“I have a home in Santo Domingo.”

Nate took a sharp breath. “But you did this,” he said. “You can't walk away from this.”

“I'm not walking away. We'll come back, ensure it stays running properly.”

“But—”

“Don't you think,” she asked, “that other islands could benefit from having a house in Vincent's name?”

“In Santo Domingo?”

Claire shrugged. “I imagine there are children there that need a home as well.”

He grinned. “It'll take a lot of money.”

“Do you happen to have any to spare, Captain Steele?” she whispered.

His smile wavered. “That's not me. Not anymore.”

She kissed him gently. “No, but it was. And I think, from what I learned, you did the name proud.”

He spun her in his arms, setting her down lightly. “It no longer bothers you that I was a pirate?”

“That depends.”

He frowned. “On what?”

She curled her hands into his hair. “If I wanted to know what it was to be kissed by a pirate, do you think you could oblige me?”

His grin came slow and was full of heat and promise. He brought his mouth down, let it hover over hers.

“Hold on tight, Claire,” he growled.

Then he closed his lips over hers and plundered.