Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] (38 page)

“Bitch!”

Then he fell, heavy and flat. She cried out, but stepped aside, and his weight came down full upon the floor as the blackness of oblivion came surely to claim him.

XIV

R
oc came back to consciousness very slowly.

Pale light flickered by his eyes.

He smelled like the scurviest of taverns. He moved his hand, and winced, feeling broken glass beneath.

Then he heard a soft chuckle and saw a handsomely buckled shoe with a well-turned masculine calf attached to it. He groaned aloud, allowing his eyes to fall closed once again.

“Come on, my boy, up, up!”

Wincing, he sat, and cast Spotswood an angry glare. “What are you doing in my room? And why is it—sir—that you seemed to have known that you would find me in this state.”

“Truthfully, Petroc, I did not know how I would find you at all, but it was imperative that I see you now, so I came as quickly as I saw your wife leave.”

“Leave!”

He bolted up, shaking his head, desperate to clear it. “Blast that wench! I have chased her over half the seaboard and through forest and glen, and I swear, sir, that I am about to keep the lady in chains. Dammit, where has she gone now?”

“Why, to find the Silver Hawk, of course,” Spotswood said complacently.

“What?”

“I believe that I’ve sent the young lady off to find the Silver Hawk. In fact, I know that I have.”

“Why!” Roc exploded incredulously. “Damn you, sir, but what have you done to me now?”

“Petroc, wait, listen!” Spotswood pleaded vehemently. “We’ve worked at this for years now, and you must know the rationale of what I’ve done. A tremendous favor, and that’s the God’s own truth, sir, and I swear it. Think—”

“Think!” Roc groaned and clutched his head and sank down to the bed. “Think, eh? Sir, it has been bad enough. I returned from my last adventure with the woman who is my wife, afraid to put my hands upon her, afraid to come too near her! Now you think that I must go out and change roles again! Her husband was going for her father! I was going, I would have sailed today with my legal and legitimate crew and a ship that docks safely upon the James—”

“Robert Arrowsmith has the Hawk’s sloop ready and waiting on the river. You need only don your whiskers—”

“Don them! They were real last time.” Roc rubbed his clean-shaven chin, gritting his teeth. He’d had time to grow a fine set when sailing for New Providence and the Tortugas in the hopes of claiming the
Silver Messenger
and his bride. This time he would have to play with theatrical hair and sticking gums. He didn’t care for the idea, but in one respect, the lieutenant governor was right—it might be far better for the Silver Hawk to set sail against Logan than for Lord Petroc Cameron to do so. No other pirate would come to his assistance if they knew him as Lord Cameron, but if a battle or skirmish came about someplace, he might find assistance as the Silver Hawk. Everyone knew about the “relationship” between the two men, and therefore it was easy enough to play the act before men and women who did not come too close—

Playing an act before one’s wife … one’s mistress, one’s lover … was nearly impossible.

He had envied the Hawk. Until this very evening, he had longed to be his alter ego once again, the man who could
freely shed his clothing before Skye and not fear that she’d find some scar upon him that would tell her beyond a doubt that he was, indeed, his own “cousin”—the sea slime, the scourge of the seas, the rogue.

The man to whom she had willingly and so sweetly given her love.

He stood up suddenly, his temper soaring. The wretched little adventuress. She’d seduced him to betray him—him! her lawfully wedded husband—to go off to find a rogue. Perhaps the acting would not be so heinous after all.

“You, sir, sent her after the Hawk?” he inquired darkly of Spotswood.

“It was necessary, Petroc.”

“Alexander, did it occur to you that you might have warned me?”

Spotswood shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. “Petroc, I didn’t think that a mere wisp of a girl could take you by such complete surprise. I was most interested in the results myself. When I remembered how you fought the marriage vows—to that poor cross-eyed lass!—I thought that surely, the man will be strong against this, his despised baggage of responsibility. Then lo and behold, the great Lord Cameron of the Camerons of Tidewater Virginia falls prey to a trick older than time.”

“Hmm.” Roc crossed his arms over his chest and nodded laconically to Alexander’s amusement. Perhaps he did deserve the man’s laughter.

Skye deserved a lot more.

And she was going to get it.

“You’ve put me in a horrible position, you know.”

“Alas, Petroc, this has been in the works these four years now!”

“I should have told her the truth,” Roc murmured.

“You can’t. Not yet. Not until you return safely to these shores. Not until you can make her understand. You promised me to uphold the secret, Petroc. I need you! I need the Silver Hawk. It is my only way of knowing what goes on in the Caribbean, and down in North Carolina, beneath my own nose. You cannot tell her yet.”

“I didn’t intend to tell her—not yet,” Roc murmured. What
role was she going to play herself this time? The Silver Hawk was longing to touch her again. Touch her … as she touched and seduced him this night.

Lord Cameron was dying to throttle his beautiful bride, the lady willing to trick and seduce him to seek assistance from another.

“You need to hurry,” Spotswood said. “I let her slip away just as I came. She’ll take some time to question some of the men in the town taverns, then they’ll send her down to the river’s edge, and to the Blackhorse.”

“The Blackhorse? Why, ’tis full of river rats!”

“Umm. And a place where the Silver Hawk has been seen before, and may appear again. I’ll send down. Peter should be below with the Silver Hawk’s apparel.” He paused, looking back. “It really was necessary, Petroc. You do know as well as I that the Silver Hawk will command the respect of the rogues in the area. They will not come together against him, while they might pool all their resources to send Lord Cameron down to the bottom of the sea.”

“Yes, it was necessary.” He touched his temple and winced. “I’m not sure about the headache, though, sir. Perhaps you could have warned me, and she could have just slipped out unnoticed.”

Spotswood lowered his head, a subtle smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe the way she left was necessary, too.”

He turned around and left.

Roc crossed his arms over his chest, pensively awaiting Peter’s arrival with the things he would need.

Maybe her departure had not been necessary, but perhaps it had been well worth the price of a headache. She had come to him, and she had given the promise of a sweet tomorrow.…

Right before she had clunked him on the head to leave him.

Maybe it really wasn’t such a bad thing that she was going to see the Silver Hawk again after all. They had a bit of reckoning to do, all three of them: the Silver Hawk, Lord Cameron—and Skye, Lord Cameron’s lady.

*  *  *

“He’s going to catch up with you any minute, young woman. Any minute!” Mattie moaned. She looked over her shoulder, past the lamplit main street and toward the palace green. Mattie was absolutely convinced that Skye had dragged her on a fool’s mission. Any minute indeed her young mistress’s husband—enraged husband, now, surely—would come tearing out of that house and down the street, seeking his wayward bride. Mattie did not want to be in the path of his anger, nor did she think that Skye really wanted to meet his fury, either.

“Mattie, that’s why we need to hurry!” Skye said. “Now come along.”

Mattie groaned and hurried along beside her Skye. It had been her choice to come. She wasn’t happy about Lord Cameron lying on the floor in a pool of rum, but she hadn’t been able to endure the idea of Skye running off alone. She had practically raised the girl, and Skye’s years in London hadn’t lessened the affection they shared.

Skye was heading on toward the next tavern on the street. This one wasn’t as reputable as the others where they had gone to seek information, but Mattie still felt as if they were safe. This was Williamsburg. It was Lieutenant Governor Spotswood’s city, and there would surely be some good men about to know that Lady Skye Kinsdale had been married to Lord Petroc Cameron—and that to touch her or cause her harm could well mean death at that man’s able hands.

Mattie hurried along beside Skye against the quiet of the night. As they approached the tavern, a shadow stepped out from the trees by the side of it. Mattie gasped, pulling Skye back against her side. “Lady Cameron!” a voice called softly.

“Sh! Don’t give no stranger in the shadows your name!” Mattie warned her.

“Yes!” Skye said, stepping closer.

The shadow backed away, lifting a hand.

“No closer, milady. No closer.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I hear you’ve been prowling about tonight, asking what
ships lie in the James, seeing if any man knows about a pirate. A rogue ship, out in the river.”

“Yes! Do you know about her?” Skye stepped forward again in her excitement. The man blended against a tree. The streets were always lit well by lamps, but the trees afforded such deep secretive shadows that the lamps could help little against the night.

“Stay where you are!” the voice commanded.

“Let’s get out of here!” Mattie urged her in a whisper. “Let’s go home. Please, child! You can be the fine lady wife, kneel down by his side, and pretend it was an accident—”

“An accident!” Skye whispered in turn. “I struck him over the head with a rum bottle—by accident?” She shook her head. “Mattie, no! I must find the Silver Hawk. He can save Father.”

“Hey!” called the man from the shadows. “Are we negotiating here or are we not!”

“We’re talking—” Skye said quickly, coming forward.

“Stand still!”

“I’m standing still,” Skye promised, stopping. Mattie hovered unhappily just behind her. The breeze stirred, sweeping unease along her spine.

“I’ll tell you where to find the Silver Hawk.”

“Where?” Her heart thundered quickly. Perhaps she was on a fool’s errand. She was coming to know Roc Cameron well, and he would not take kindly to her betrayal. Maybe she should run back and throw herself upon her husband’s mercy. Maybe it would be much, much better than leaving the one man behind to seek out a rogue and enter into a world of tempest and temptation. She clenched her jaw, realizing anew that she was coming to love her husband. To love the man that she had betrayed. She had to move forward. Her father was out there, Logan’s prisoner.

She almost screamed aloud with the thought, and she cast her guilt from her shoulders with a shrug. “Where!” she cried out to the man in the shadows.

“Not so fast, milady. You wear an emerald around your neck. I will have it.”

“What?” Skye murmured. Her fingers came to her throat
and she realized that she still wore the emerald pendant she had found among her things at Bone Cay. She had worn it the first night that she had been with the Silver Hawk. She had worn it when she had cast aside all else, all clothing, all inhibitions.…

Her fingers closed around the pendant. She carried gold to give to the Silver Hawk. She could afford to give this man the pendant.

She snatched it from her throat and started to cast it forward. “Wait!” the voice cried. “Come forward, and drop the pendant.”

“No!” Mattie called out. She stepped forward, taking the pendant from Skye. “I’ll drop it, and if this man is a reputable liar and thief, then he’ll have his pendant and you’ll have your information, child.”

Skye would have protested casting Mattie into danger, but Mattie gave her no chance to do so. She hurried forward to the tree and cast the pendant down as the shadow slunk back. Mattie sniffed her opinion of the man loudly, and came back to Skye.

A hand reached down and scooped up the emerald.

“The Blackhorse Tavern. It’s south on the river. Speak softly and subtly, and you’ll find the Silver Hawk.” The shadow turned from the tree and went racing toward the rear of the tavern. Skye followed after him and found him leaping atop a sleek bay horse. “Wait! Wait, please! I still don’t where this tavern is! I—I haven’t followed the waterfront that often—”