The Pirate's Willing Captive Read online

  Maribel felt as if her face were frozen though the day was mild enough. She attempted a smile as he dismounted and came to lift her down, but found that she was trembling with nerves.

  ‘Remember you are a lady and my betrothed.’

  Maribel’s head went up at the reminder. A tall man with greying hair and a lined face moved towards them. He stared at her for a moment and then inclined his head.

  ‘You are Marguerite’s daughter. I can see her in you. Indeed, you are very like your mother, my child.’

  ‘Thank you. Forgive me, I do not know you.’

  ‘How should you?’ He held out his hand to her. ‘I am your Uncle Henry. My sister and I were close when we were young, but my father made a match for her with Don Miguel Sabatini and I lost contact with her. I wrote to her often, but she replied only a few times before she died—and your father wrote only twice to tell me of your birth and her death. I was grieved that she died so young. I would have come to visit, but duty kept me here. My father died and I was forced to repair our fortunes before thinking of my own wishes—but I thought of you often and I am so pleased that you have chosen to come to us until you marry.’ His steady gaze went to Justin’s face. ‘Captain Devere. I believe I once met your father, sir. It was years ago, but he spoke then of his son as being a fine young man.’

  ‘I thank you for your welcome, Sir Henry. Perhaps we may talk again later? I am hoping that you will take my lady into your home while I perform some necessary duties. I shall return for her as soon as I have visited the court.’

  ‘You wish to pay your respects to the new Queen.’ Sir Henry nodded. If he wondered why Justin did not wish to take his betrothed with him, he did not ask. ‘Please leave your horses to my grooms, sir. My wife is most anxious to greet Maribel. We have sons, but no daughters, and she hath always wished for one.’ His gaze returned to Maribel. ‘Come and meet Lady Fildene—she is anxious to welcome you to her home.’

  Maribel’s nerves abated a little as she moved with him to meet the rather small, plump lady waiting to greet her. Lady Fildene smiled and embraced her warmly, clasping her to her ample bosom.

  ‘How beautiful you are, my dearest child. We are so glad to have you with us if only for a time. I know my husband wrote to your father asking that you might come to us for a while, but he received no answer to his letters.’

  ‘My father was not always kind, ma’am,’ Maribel said. ‘I think his marriage to my mother was not as happy as it might have been—for either of them.’

  ‘Henry told me that she did not wish to wed him,’ the lady said, placing a hand on Maribel’s arm and drawing her into the entrance hall of what was clearly a grand house. The ceilings were high; the walls were of stone, but covered with rich tapestries that gave the rooms a warmth and colour not always seen in older homes. ‘Your maid will be shown to your apartments, my dear. Everything is being prepared, though we had little notice of your coming.’

  ‘I think it was not possible to let you know sooner,’ Maribel told her. She was very conscious of the fact that it had been some time since she had left her home in Spain, and she was most certainly not the same girl. Her skin was no longer the pale olive it had been when she protected it by staying out of the midday sun. On the island she had become careless, allowing her skin to be kissed by the sun to a pale gold, a little freckling appearing across her nose. She was wearing gloves, but she knew her hands had not yet become as soft and smooth as they had once been. ‘I am sorry to be a trouble to you.’

  ‘You could never be a trouble to us, dearest girl. We are delighted to have you with us, even if only for a short time.’

  ‘I am happy to be here,’ Maribel replied, her fears falling away as she saw the genuine welcome in the lady’s eyes. ‘I shall enjoy getting to know my mother’s family.’

  ‘My sons Beavis and William are married and living in London,’ Lady Fildene said. ‘However, my son Michael is expected home any day now. He has been to the north on business for his father. We import wines, you know. Mostly from France these days, though it was because of the Spanish wines we once imported that my father-in-law entrusted his daughter to your father. I am sorry to learn that the marriage was not a good one.’

  ‘I think my mother may have been unhappy, but I do not remember her. My stepmother was kind to me and I was happy enough until she died soon after my husband.’

  ‘You were married? We did not know that. How sad to lose a husband at your age.’

  ‘I was sad—but then I met Justin,’ Maribel replied, her mouth curving. ‘I think I shall be very content as his wife.’

  ‘His family are respected and wealthy,’ her aunt said. ‘Everyone knows of Lord Robert Melford and the important family he founded. I believe they are all well connected and popular at court, though we do not often visit London ourselves. My husband was never one to seek royal favour, though we have recently been honoured by a royal contract for our fine wines.’

  Maribel was not sure whether her aunt sounded regretful or a little jealous of those who had the royal favour. She sensibly kept her silence. Since she had only just learned Justin’s true name it would not do to pretend to knowledge about his family that she did not have.

  Glancing back, she saw him talking with her uncle. He seemed at ease and gave no sign of being anything other than he claimed to be. Clearly he had put the memory of his time at sea behind him, and she must too. She would have to be careful when answering her aunt’s questions—she did not wish to reveal that she had been a pirate’s captive.

  ‘I shall return for you as soon as I can,’ Justin told Maribel as he took his leave two days later. ‘At least I know that you are safe here with your family. Your uncle is truly pleased to have you here, as he has made plain to me—and I believe his wife to be a good woman.’

  ‘Lady Fildene is both kind and generous,’ Maribel admitted. ‘I like her very well. She is a good chatelaine and she loves her family. Her son Michael is expected home soon and I think he must be her favourite. Even so, I would rather come with you if I could, Justin, but I know I may not for I should only hamper you.’

  ‘I am sorry I must leave you, but I know you are safe here. I shall travel faster alone, my love—but I shall think of you often. As soon as I am free to do so, I shall return and take you to my home, where we shall be wed.’

  ‘I pray that you will return to me safely. You know that I love you.’

  ‘As I love you. Take care of yourself until I come to claim you.’

  Maribel went to his arms, clinging to him until he disengaged, pushing her back. ‘Be careful, my love. It is not seemly to show such passion. We may be observed and I would not have your aunt lose her good opinion of you.’

  Tears crowded in her throat. It was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to take her with him, but she knew that he would refuse. He had decided that she must remain here in safety with her aunt and uncle and she could not make him change his mind. Parting from him would tear her in two, but she must bear it as best she could and pray for his safe return.

  Reluctantly she drew away, ‘I should not like to shock her. I am very careful how I answer her for she would be shocked if she knew where I had recently been.’

  ‘Be patient for a while. We shall soon be together.’

  Justin touched her face lightly and then turned away. Higgins was waiting nearby with his horse.

  ‘Farewell, Justin.’

  ‘Farewell, my dearest one. I shall return.’

  Maribel watched as he rode out of the courtyard. A breeze had sprung up suddenly, bringing storm clouds from the sea. The dark sky looked ominous and she shivered as she turned and went into the house. The time would seem long while Justin was gone. She hardly knew how to occupy her time, because the pretty sewing she had once delighted in for hour after hour was not enough to fill her days. She disliked the damp coolness of the English weather, finding the grey skies depressing, and thought wistfully of the time she had spent at the island and the long
voyage back to England. Did the sun ever shine in this land? How many days would pass before Justin came to claim her as his bride—and how would she live if for some reason he never came? She thrust the thought away for it was unbearable. She must believe that he would return or she had nothing.

  * * *

  Justin was aware of a shadow hovering at the back of his mind as he rode the last few leagues to his father’s home. Higgins had wanted to accompany him, but he would not allow it.

  ‘If I am to be hanged as a mutineer and a pirate I will not take you with me, my friend. Remain near my lady and guard her until my return. I shall bring your pardon if I am spared. If not, you must take the ships and sail away. They will both be yours then.’

  ‘You risk your life for nothing, Justin. I have not found English justice fair in the past. I do not expect it now.’

  ‘You may well be right, which is why I ask you to remain with Maribel until…’ Justin shook his head. ‘If I do not return, she is safe enough with her uncle.’

  ‘Aye, she is safe enough.’

  They clasped hands and then Justin mounted his horse and rode away. He had not looked back—it was costing him a great deal to leave Maribel. If his heart had ruled him, he would have turned back, swept her up on his horse and taken her far away. His head told him that he would never be at peace if he did not at least try to obtain his father’s blessing and the Queen’s pardon. He could not take her with him, but he had ridden off with a heavy heart.

  Now that he was close to his family estate, Justin felt uneasy. What kind of a welcome awaited him in his father’s house? John Devere was an honest man. He had taught his son to live with honour. Would he be able to accept Justin for what he was—a mutineer and a pirate?

  * * *

  As Justin dismounted in the courtyard of his home a groom came running towards him. He hesitated as he drew near, stared at Justin in stunned disbelief for a moment, and then grinned.

  ‘God be praised!’ Tis Master Justin home at last.’ The groom took the reins of Justin’s horse. ‘We thought you dead, sir. Your lady mother has been grieving for you these past months.’

  ‘I was lost, Jedruth, but now I am found,’ Justin said and clapped him on the shoulder, feeling overcome by the man’s obvious delight. ‘Tell me, are my parents within?’

  ‘Your lady mother is at home, sir, but the master has gone this day to visit a neighbour. He should be back this evening.’

  ‘Thank you. I shall see my mother immediately.’

  Justin went into the house to be greeted by a shriek from the keeper of the household as she saw him. ‘Lord have mercy!’ she cried and flung her arms up. ‘If it isn’t Master Justin—and the mistress crying her heart out for him day after day! Where have you been that you could not send a message to your mother? Wicked boy!’

  ‘Forgive me, Lizzie.’ Justin grabbed her in a bear hug. ‘There were good reasons why I could not let my family know where I was. Tell me, where is my mother?’

  ‘She is in her stillroom, of course. Where else would she be at this hour of the day?’

  ‘Bless you!’ Justin kissed her soundly on the mouth. She pushed him away and frowned at him, but smiled as he turned in the direction of his mother’s stillroom and then crossed herself.

  ‘The Lord be praised!’

  Justin hurried to the room where Lady Devere prepared all the preserves that ensured they had jams and fruit in the winter, also creams and lotions that she used to cure the ills of the people who served her. He paused outside, almost fearing to enter, and knocked at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ her voice called and he opened the door. Lady Devere stood at a bench made of a scrubbed wood board and trestles. In front of her were bundles of leaves, dried herbs and berries, as well as stone jars and pots with squares of cloth, wax and string for sealing them. ‘Yes, Lizzie, what is it?’

  ‘It is not Lizzie…’ Justin said and saw her shoulders stiffen. She turned slowly with a jar in her hand. When she saw him her eyes widened, she gave a little cry and swayed, dropping the jar she was holding so that it clattered onto the floor. ‘Mother…forgive me…’ He darted to support her, holding her close until she recovered. She straightened and pushed him away. Her eyes were filled with tears of love and forgiveness as she reached out to touch his face. ‘I am so sorry, Mother…so very sorry for distressing you.’

  ‘I thought you must be dead. Justin…my dearest son…’ Lady Devere caught back a sob. ‘Your father received a visit from a man called Captain Bolton. He told him that you had booked a passage with him to France, but failed to board, though your horse was lodged at the hostelry he told you of. It was months before he came to tell us, because he had been at sea. We were led to believe that you were somehow taken aboard another ship against your will.’

  ‘Yes, that is what happened, Mother. I was shanghaied and forced to work for a cruel master who treated his crew ill. What happened after that is a long story. I had best wait until my father is here, for I would tell you both at the same time. I am not the man I was when I left my home—I have done things you may find impossible to forgive.’

  ‘You could never do anything so wicked that I would not love and forgive you,’ Lady Devere said. She put her arms about him, kissing him on the forehead. ‘You look well, my son. I am glad to have you home. I care only that you are alive and well.’

  ‘I thank you for your love, Mother. I regret that I did not let you know I was alive sooner, but…’ He shook his head. ‘I shall wait until Father is here. He should hear my story at the same time, for I would not seek advantage and I know he may not forgive as easily as you.’

  * * *

  ‘Maribel, my dear. May I speak with you for a moment, please?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt? Did you need me?’

  Maribel had been walking in the walled garden at the back of the house. Behind the high walls that protected them from the full force of the sea was a sheer drop to the beach below. To reach the cove, you had to walk a little distance along the cliff until you came to a path cut into the rock by some ancient mariners. Maribel had been considering whether to walk down to the beach, but as yet the weather had been too cool to entice her. She turned at the sound of her hostess’s voice and walked back to meet her.

  ‘There will be a fair in the village tomorrow, Maribel,’ Lady Fildene said as the girl came up to her. ‘We may purchase silks and materials for new gowns—and many trinkets that may please us perhaps.’

  ‘I have little money to spare—most of what I have is still with the ship. Captain S…Justin said that he would arrange for my trunks to be sent on, but I have only what was brought on the pack horses thus far.’

  ‘Which is why I thought we should visit the fair to buy silks from the merchants. We can sew some gowns for you between us, Maribel. What you have is charming, but the Spanish style is heavier than the English fashion. I believe you would feel more comfortable in something new.’

  ‘I am sure I would. Justin—’ Maribel broke off. It was difficult to remember that she must not mention her time on the island. ‘I do have some simpler gowns in my trunks, but it would be pleasant to make a new gown.’

  ‘Your uncle would be happy to make you a gift of the gowns,’ her aunt told her. ‘It has given us such pleasure to have you here, my dear. I hope you will visit us again when you are married to Captain Devere?’

  ‘Yes, I am certain we shall,’ Maribel told her. ‘You and my uncle are both so kind to me.’

  ‘We love you as your mother’s child—and as the daughter we never had.’

  Maribel’s cheeks felt warm, for she felt uneasy at deceiving these good people. What would they think if they knew the truth? She would feel terrible if her aunt ever discovered that she had been so indiscreet as to become a pirate’s mistress, for that was what she was until Justin married her.

  Justin would return soon and marry her. Her aunt and uncle need never know the truth! She thrust the uneasy thoughts from her mind.

&nb
sp; ‘Then I should love to visit the fair with you tomorrow, Aunt.’

  * * *

  ‘Justin!’ John Devere came rushing into the parlour where his son and wife sat together. ‘I could scarcely believe it when they told me you were here! I thought you lost to us for good.’

  Justin stood up. He held out his hand, but his father smiled and embraced him.

  ‘Welcome home, my son. This is a wonderful day!’

  ‘Perhaps you should hear my story first, Father. You may not be so pleased once you know what happened—what I have done.’

  John moved back, his gaze narrowed and questing. ‘Should this be said before your mother?’

  ‘I would wish Mother to hear it all. I have done things that may shame you, Father—but I ask for your understanding.’

  ‘You mean the mutiny? I have heard that there was a possibility that you led a mutiny against a cruel master—namely Captain Smythe?’

  ‘You knew that and yet you welcomed me home?’

  ‘I heard from Captain Bolton that you might have been shanghaied aboard Smythe’s ship. He visited us concerning a horse and told me what conditions aboard such a ship would be like and that he had heard the captain’s life had been saved by one of the mutineers. Apparently, the leader forced the others to put the captain and his officers ashore at Venice rather than hanging them as others wanted. Was that what happened, Justin?’

  ‘Yes, Father. I must explain what happened. When a young lad who had done little wrong was beaten half to death I could no longer hold out against the crew. They would have killed Smythe, his officers and me if I had not taken charge. I did not think I had a choice.’

  ‘You did what you had to do,’ Sir John agreed. ‘Mutiny is a serious offence, but I must tell you that some of Smythe’s officers reported him for gross misconduct, blaming him for losing the ship and putting their lives at risk. He has lost his master’s ticket and will not sail as the captain of a ship again.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it, sir. It is time that men like Smythe were shown for the bullies they are. However, that is not the end of my story. I fear there is worse to come. Something for which I may not be so easily acquitted. ’