Mariah's Prize (18 page)

It’s a pity your ma man will lose you both. “

Still smiling, he turned away. Swiftly the bearded man lunged forward and struck Elisha on the side of the head with his fist. As Elisha crumpled to the deck beside her, the man seized Jenny and tossed her effortlessly over his shoulder.

“Elisha!” she screamed in terror, clawing at the man’s broad back as he carried her from the cabin. Behind her Elisha lay lifeless beside Richardson’s body, his yellow hair fanned out on the deck and into the puddled blood from the corpse.

“Oh, God, Elisha!” “

Q^^^Q

Oh Gabriel, the Felicity’s not here! ” cried Mariah with disappointment as the Bridgetown pilot brought the Revenge safely into Carlisle Bay.

She leaned farther over the rail, straining to see if perhaps she’d missed the other Newport ship among the crowd of vessels in the harbor.

“I thought after we’d lost so much time with the Marie Claire they’d surely be here first.”

“Not with Richardson for master,” said Gabriel, slipping one arm around her waist to guard her from falling overboard. After four weeks at sea she seemed steady enough, but he didn’t want to take any chances with her this close to the safety of the town. Besides, with the pilot at the helm, there wasn’t much else for him to do, and he welcomed the excuse to feel her in his arms again. Why, at least a full quarter hour must have. passed since he’d last kissed her.

“We could come limping in with all our sticks jury-rigged and I’d warrant we’d still do better than Richardson. He doesn’t like blue water, and creeps and clings his way along the coast like an old lady.”

Unconvinced, Mariah turned to face him.

“They might have been caught in storms or been taken by another privateer.”

“Aye, they might, but most likely they’re just slow.” He chucked her beneath the chin.

“Your sister and her swam will be well enough, and glad enough of the extra days together before they face your wrath.”

“I can’t very well sit in righteous judgment now, can I?” She grinned ruefully, though she hadn’t a single regret for what she’d done. These last days and nights with Gabriel had been the best of her life, and no amount of moral lecturing would convince her otherwise.

“I’ll see them marry, if they’re not already, and bring them back as man and wife. Elisha’s been begging to marry her for months, and Jenny could do far worse. That wasn’t what Mama wanted, I know, but I can’t see any other way. No other decent man would have her now, anyway.”

Suddenly distant, Gabriel didn’t answer, looking instead over her head at the other ships, and miserably she wished her words unspoken. As much as Gabriel seemed to like her, as much as he desired her, not once had he mentioned love, or any sort of arrangement between them that might continue beyond this voyage. She knew it. would be that way from the moment she’d met him, and she’d accepted it. All Newport gossiped about how women never lingered in Gabriel Sparhawk’s life.

Bachelors as old as he didn’t suddenly up and marry, especially not with girls nearly half their age, and if she weren’t more careful of what she said, he’d probably leave her now. Leave her. Just the thought made her begin to panic.

Staring at the town and seeing nothing, Gabriel told himself he shouldn’t have been surprised, but still, somehow, he’d hoped she’d be different. Chattering on about how her sister must marry. Did she really think that was a subtle way to make him propose? Young as she was, he’d come to expect more from her. It wasn’t that he had tired of her. Oh, he still wanted Mariah, and often, but he didn’t want a wife, not her, not any other woman. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Regardless of what his sister Sarah had warned, no outraged mama with an eye toward his fortune was going to change his mind. With unhappy cynicism, he wondered if Mariah had planned this from the first time she had come to Crescent Hill. “And what of you. Miss Mariah?” he asked lightly, letting his hand wander intimately from her waist to the underside of her breast. “What will your mother say to you?”

“Tome?”

He saw the panic widen her eyes, startled, no doubt, at having her game uncovered.

“Aye, you. About me.”

“What my mother says won’t matter.” She lifted her chin higher as she forced herself to meet his eyes, easing herself away from his caress. “Unlike Jenny, I am of age. I can decide my future for myself. And I already have. I swore to Daniel I’d never marry another, and I won’t.”

For an instant he thought of Catherine, if she would have made a similar vow to him.

“All women want husbands.”

“If that were true, then why have you found so many of them willing to throw over those selfsame husbands to dawdle with you?”

“You wouldn’t be content without a husband.”

“I’m content enough at present.”

Skeptical, he raised one brow. If she was content, then he was the reason.

For Mariah, that single raised brow was like spark to dry under.

“Please remember you weren’t the one to ‘ruin’ me, Captain Sparhawk,” she said tartly.

“I’ve no intention of placing that burden on your name. Whatever else you may accuse me of, I am honest.”

A sight more honest than he’d been with her, and if she’d slapped him outright she couldn’t have shamed him more. Grudgingly he once again admired her courage. He wanted very much to believe her, especially with that intemperate fire in her eyes that he’d come to know so well.

“I haven’t once doubted your honesty, Mariah.”

“No, I suppose you haven’t.” She sighed deeply, wondering what he’d make of her honesty if she told him truthfully how she felt toward him. She hadn’t meant to sound so shrewish.

Self-consciously she took the trailing end of his neck cloth and tucked it through the second buttonhole of his coat, the way she’d seen it done in the fashion pictures of London gentlemen at Madame Lambert’s shop. Not that Gabriel—dressed for shore in a dark blue broadcloth suit edged with gold braid, the polished buttons flashing in the sun—couldn’t already put every London gentleman to shame. Here on his own quarterdeck he was indisputably confident and undeniably master, his sheer masculinity more potent to her senses than any liquor.

Beside him she felt tiny and insignificant, and painfully aware of how slight her claim to him was. She let her hand rest lightly against his chest, the felted cloth velvety beneath her fingers. God in heaven, why did she have to love him so?

“I don’t want to quarrel with you, Gabriel,” she said sadly.

“Not about husbands or wives or anything.” “Neither do I, sweet. But the best part of any quarrel is the patching up that comes afterward.” Her regret was so genuine that his suspicions were fading. No woman bent on matrimony could ever be this guileless, this disarming. As for her mother—her mother was more than three thousand miles away.

“And I’ve always found quarreling with you, poppet, to be vastly enjoyable.”

He lifted Mariah’s fingers to his lips, watching how prettily she blushed.

“I have business on shore here, but I’ll return tonight, and I expect to be able to show you the full measure of my contrition.”

But she didn’t smile in return the way he’d expected.

“Can’t I come with you? Please, Gabriel.”

She was asking, not begging, but again he saw panic flicker across her face, and now he wondered why. “Nay, I’ve too much dry, dull business to amuse you. You’ll be better off here.”

“It was never dull with you in Newport,” she said wistfully.

“In Newport everyone knew who you were,” he said lightly.

“Here you’d be treated as no more than some impudent little baggage who’d coaxed her way onto my arm. If I’m to sail again in less than a week—and I should, if I’ve any hope at all of making you the rich woman I promised—then I’m going to have to beg, bribe and threaten my way into the stores King George keeps for his navy. I’d rather you didn’t see how low I must sink in your name.”

The truth was he’d rather she didn’t witness his reunion with his parents. More than four years had passed since he’d last walked out on his father, both of them so angry that only his mother had kept them from swords in the back garden. He had no notion what kind of reception he’d find, but he was sure that arriving with Mariah on his arm would not improve it.

Mariah twisted a button on the front of her bodice. Less than a week before Gabriel once again would face French guns, and in her name, too. She couldn’t hope to have a claim on his heart, but at least she could try to keep him alive.

“How much will the Marie-Claire bring?”

In the breeze the ribbons from her wide-brimmed that floated across her face, and he brushed them back.

“I can’t say for certain until the vice admiralty courts make their judgment.”

“Enough to clear my father’s debts? Enough to pay you back for what you lent me and for outfitting?”

“Aye, with a bit left over to buy yourself new garters and stockings. I’m quite partial to pale rose silk, if you’re of a mind to please me.”

But she was in no mood for playfulness.

“Then I’ve done what I’ve had to, Gabriel. I’ll sell the Revenge and her commission here in Bridgetown,” she said, urgency rushing her words.

“You said yourself you’re rich enough. You don’t need to risk your life again. You can return to Crescent Hill and forget I ever asked you to leave.”

For a long moment he didn’t answer, studying her upturned face for a clue. Even for Mariah, this was abrupt.

“If you put the Revenge up for sale, Mariah,” he said evenly, “then I’ll buy her myself.”

She gasped, shaking her head.

“But you can’t!”

“Why not? As you say, I’m rich enough.” He still couldn’t figure out what she really wanted, or why her expression seemed so pinched.

Perhaps it was only the memory of what she’d seen in the surgery and the fear of another engagement with the French. He’d put an end to her worries soon enough, once he spoke to his mother about letting Mariah stay with them at West gate. But whatever was making Mariah threaten to sell the Revenge, it wasn’t going to dissuade him from finding Deveaux.

“By my reckoning, you owe me close to five thousand pounds, sweet,” he continued. ‘“Twill be months, maybe even a year, before you’re able to collect on the Marie Claire Until then you won’t be able to pay me back or sell her out from under me, ‘and I’ll continue to follow the orders in my commission from you and the governor.”

With a great splash, the Revenge’s anchor plunged into the bright blue water. Already the bos’n was giving the orders to lower the boat to carry Gabriel to town and the pilot back to his own boat. From the corner of his eye Gabriel could see the pilot coming toward him, looking for his fee, and he knew he didn’t have much time left with| Mariah.

“I promise I’ll be back by nightfall, poppet, and I’ll want you waiting for me, mind?” He swept off his that and ducked his head beneath the wide straw brim of her that to kiss her, his arm curled around her waist, and her lips parted with the melting sweetness he’d come to cherish. But when he released her to join the others, her eyes stayed tightly shut, so tightly that he almost didn’t notice the glitter of the tears that beaded her lashes.

“Would you please call the boat for me, Ethan?” asked Mariah as Ethan cleared away the dinner she’d left uneaten.

“I should like to go into Bridgetown now.”

Surprised by her request, Ethan squinted at her over his shoulder.

“Into Bridgetown, miss?”

“Yes, into Bridgetown,” she answered firmly.

“I know we shipped two boats, so don’t tell me Captain Sparhawk’s taken the only one.”

“Bridgetown, ye say.” Ethan thumped the tray down on the table.

“Th’ cap’n didn’t say nothing to me about ye going to Bridgetown.”

If either one of them said the town’s name again Mariah was sure she’d burst into nervous giggles at the ridiculousness of it.

“I’m to meet him there, by his invitation. I suppose he was too busy to mention it.”

Ethan wiped his sleeve across his mouth.

“An’ where do ye be meetin’ him?”

“At an inn called the Lady Anne,” she answered promptly, having read the name from her father’s water-stained paper only minutes before.

“I believe it’s near the water.”

“Aye, it is, but th’ only lady that’s ever seen there is the one on th’

signboard.” His forehead wrinkled with concerned suspicion.

“I can’t fancy th’ cap’n takin’ ye there. Are ye certain of th’ name?”

“Quite certain.” She rose and twitched at her skirts, trying to look imperious before Ethan. “Now if you please, I shall be ready to leave in five minutes.”

“Aye, Miss Marian, whatever ye please,” he said with a lack of respect she couldn’t miss. But just before he kicked the cabin door shut after him, he turned, thrusting his bald-topped head through the doorway.

“Ye sure it’s the Lady Anne, now? I can’t fathom the cap’n takin’ ye to such a place.” He shook his head unhappily. “Ye mind yerself in that wicked ken, hear?”

Mariah nodded, and still muttering to himself he left her alone. Ethan was being protective, that was all. Unhappy though he might be, Mariah didn’t doubt that he’d relay her order and that the boat would be waiting. He couldn’t know that she’d seen her share of rum shops and pot houses in Newport from the times she’d had to go claim her father, and she doubted the ones in Bridgetown could be much worse. Not that Ethan hadn’t learned plenty else about her already. The man had been the first to see that she and Gabriel had become lovers, and made it clear enough, too, that he thought Gabriel had wronged her. No wonder he kept fussing around her like an old mother tabby, almost as much as Gabriel did himself.

Swiftly she flung her cloak over her shoulders, more to shield her skirts from the spray in the open boat than for warmth, for the summer sun here in the Caribbean was hotter than she’d dreamed possible. She frowned with dismay at her reflection in the mirror as she tied on her that. That same summer sun had played havoc with her complexion, burning her cheeks as ruddy as a farmer’s daughter’s, and dusting freckles—freckles! —across the bridge of her nose.