Chapter 8

The next day, Hestia spent a pleasant afternoon helping some of the men wash and repair clothes. One thing about Alex, he expected things to be kept clean. He’d always been fastidious about, well, everything: clothes, house, carriage, horse. She remembered how on their trip home he stopped often to ensure he carried enough water on board to keep the ship, men, and clothes all spotlessly clean. Jacob would shake his head when he complained of dirt on the anchor chain. It was almost an obsession.

Like Alex, she too had a mission: to make him notice her in the most primitive way—as a sensual woman. Alex’s mission was to find her father. By the time they did that she hoped Alex would be smitten.

She’d make Alex fall in love with her, and perhaps then he would demand her hand in marriage from her father.

When Alex wanted something, nothing stood in his way. It was time she took control of her dreams instead of waiting for someone else to change her world. All she had to do was make Alex want her—for his wife. No mean feat when dealing with a notorious rake. One who’d avoided marriage as if it was the black plague.

Still, she thrived on a challenge, and this one would be a lot of fun.

A thought about her father entered her head. This time she would not sit back and say nothing. She would tell her father exactly what she thought of him and his desertion.

Still playing the words she would say to her father over in her head, Hestia entered the stateroom. A wave of disappointment swept through her at finding it empty.

Alone and able to stand and stare, she was even more impressed by the dignity of the room than when she’d seen it this morning. A magnificent Persian carpet covered most of the floor. The rug’s brilliant reds and blues added to the room’s vibrancy.

At the far end of the cabin stood a heavy claw-foot table, currently set up with her lunch. She moved further into the room fascinated by the table that dominated the other side of the wide stateroom. The large desk strewn with charts and maps contained one decanter of what she assumed was brandy and one of whiskey. Near the doors to the balcony at the rear were three high-backed leather armchairs that made the room look more like a prestigious gentleman’s club.

Making her way across the rug toward the table she spied the door on her right that would be Alex’s cabin. Hestia glanced left and right. This might be her only chance; the stateroom was virtually never left unattended. She stood biting her lip between her teeth and decided it was worth the risk of being caught. She took a deep breath and slipped into Alex’s cabin, hoping curiosity would lead to knowledge of the man she hoped to come to know.

She tried the door handle and to her surprise it was unlocked. Alex obviously didn’t keep anything of value in there. As she stepped inside, her mouth dropped open in surprise. No, he didn’t keep anything of value in there. He kept—almost nothing. The cabin was very spartan. His wood-framed berth was built into the bulkhead, draped like hers, with curtains to block out the light and keep heat in. There was only a washstand in the corner and a large leather sea chest by the foot of the bed. There was a door at the opposite end of the cabin that opened out onto another balcony, much smaller than the one off the stateroom. Hestia raised an eyebrow; for a duke and charming rake, he traveled light.

Hearing voices, Hestia quickly left the cabin and took her seat at the table, raising her teacup to her lips trying to look the picture of innocence.

She almost dropped the cup when Alex entered. She felt the flush of feminine desire seep into her bones.

He had been up on deck, for his hair was tousled. Suddenly her hands began to shake so much the tea slopped over the sides onto the table.

He still wore it. Her necklace.

Why had she not seen it that morning? She saw the outline of the shells under the fine linen of his shirt. He still wore her necklace. What did it mean?

His sea-green eyes stared at her, sending more heat through her body, pooling in her loins. Images from her dreams flashed before her eyes and her face turned scarlet, realizing he was far more potent than anything she could have imagined. She lowered her eyes to the table.

“Jacob tells me you’ve been very helpful this morning, thank you, but you don’t have to—”

“I like to help.” She had to put the teacup down, as her nerves would not settle. Excitement skittered through her. “It feels good to be useful.”

He nodded before moving across to the maps on the table. “I hope the weather holds.” He crossed to the desk and perused the maps. Over his shoulder he continued. “You will have all your meals here, but during the day the officers and I need this room to work. So you’ll have to stay in your cabin or up on deck—”

She interrupted him. “That’s all right. I’d prefer to spend more time up on deck anyway.”

Alex turned to her and rolled his eyes and sighed. “You will not leave the area around the quarterdeck cabins, nor wander the ship unless you’re accompanied by either me, David, or Jacob, is that clear?”

Hestia eyed him warily. He seemed to be in earnest. “Care to explain why I cannot roam freely? What are you not telling me?”

Alex leveled his steely gaze at her. Through gritted teeth he said, “You’re no longer a young girl, you are a woman. This ship is far larger than the schooner we previously sailed on. There are too many men on this ship, many that I don’t know. I can’t guarantee your safety if you wander about above deck.”

“But surely they know I’m under your protection; they wouldn’t dare hurt me. Where would they go?”

Alex’s eyes raked her from head to foot. “Men often don’t think with their heads. And for a woman like you, they’d dare. Besides, there are other dangers such as falling rigging or being knocked overboard.”

His tone cut her like a knife. What did he mean, a woman like her? “I see. I shall of course be careful.”

Alex’s voice turned cold. “Stay in your cabin unless escorted on deck. I have enough to worry about without you falling overboard or worse.” And he turned back to his maps as if she didn’t exist.

What was causing Alex’s foul mood? “Are we being followed?” Her pulse hitched.

“Not that we can tell. However, they could be waiting ahead for us too.”

Guilt swamped her. All these men were in danger too. “I’m sorry for having dragged you into this. There was no one else.”

“Only because you stubbornly refused to marry over the past few years.”

Pain ripped into her chest. He spoke of her marrying someone else as casually as he spoke of the weather. “You appear to be in no rush either. You have a duty to produce an heir—”

“I’m not the one needing protecting. If you’d married like your father wished, I would not be in this position. Did you think on that?”

He’d never seemed so cold before. Worse still, she knew he was right. He was in this situation because she had no one to protect her. In a blaring instant, the truth hit her. She was as selfish as her father, putting her wants and desires before anything else. She’d refused every offer of marriage for the dream of Alex. Look what that was now costing him.

He was beginning to hate her and she could not bear that.

She stood, maintaining as much dignity as she could, dressed in her oversized men’s attire. “You are right. Turn the ship around. Go back to England. There is another way. My father will have to look out for himself. Me, I will have to marry regardless of my feelings and desires. Just like many other women, I have no choice.”

To her surprise Alex’s firm mouth softened. He moved to the end of the cabin and walked out onto the balcony calling over his shoulder. “It’s too late to turn back.”

She followed him and stood next to him. “No it is not.”

He stared down at her, his eyes looking for—she was not sure what. “Sorry, that was unkind to put this situation all on you. I’m sailing because I owe your father.”

What was that she saw in his eyes? Guilt. As if he lied. Guilt over what? “I know he helped rescue you from Murad, but surely you repaid that by rescuing me.”

A flicker of remorse crossed his fine features.

“I will never be able to repay your father for what he did for me,” he uttered softly.

She noted the haunted look slipping into his eyes. She wanted to reach for him, hug him, and chase away those terrible memories. However, she knew he would rebuff such a display of emotion.

“I’m still not clear how my father saved you. He has never spoken of it.”

White knuckles came into view as Alex gripped the railing tight. He stood staring out to sea for a moment before he turned and marched back to the table covered in maps. “Eat your lunch, Hestia.” With that he picked up a map and made his way back up on deck.

A cold wave of sadness washed over her. Whatever happened during his captivity, he was ashamed. She read it in his face, his stance, and the fear of someone learning the secrets in his eyes.

She never talked about her time in the pirates’ captivity either. She too felt shame at how her stupidity had led to her capture.

Invisible walls enclosed him, and it would take more than a battering ram to break through. Never had her task to get close to the real Alex seemed so impossible. She had no experience with men. How did she get Alex to confide terrible memories when she could not talk about her own experience, and it was nothing compared to his two years as a slave. Just then she heard Mr. Foxhall calling out to Jacob on the deck above.

Friends. Women confided in friends. Perhaps Mr. Foxhall could help her unravel Alex’s reluctance to let her get close. Would Alex have shared with his friend? She needed to be able to help Alex forget his past so they could build a new future. Alex still had feelings for her, she knew, for he wore her necklace.

She managed to compose herself before stepping out on the quarterdeck. Outside, she let her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. She looked up at one of the towering masts overhead. A young sailor was up in the yardarm.

The size of the ship was daunting. She couldn’t spy Mr. Foxhall and she had no idea where Jacob was.

Turning aft she looked at the elevated poop deck at the stern of the ship and saw men there cleaning weapons. If that was where the weapons were kept, then perhaps Jacob, given he was the captain, was among them.

With Alex’s cold words ringing in her ears, she put on her best smile and climbed the short ladder up to the poop deck, in the shadow of the mizzenmast.

The three men hard at work checking, cleaning, and putting away an array of weapons didn’t hear her approach. Tucking pieces of her escaped tresses behind her ear she called out, “Good day. May I help?”

Three sets of eyes turned to her at once. Their mouths dropped open as they stood gaping at her.

The eldest of the three, a giant of a man, well over six feet and full of muscle, stepped forward, a swagger in his step. One large forearm was covered with a tattoo of a naked woman and it flexed as he moved.

She backed away. These men did not look like sailors. They looked like hardened soldiers. Perhaps this had not been such a good idea, but she was still in view of the quarterdeck. She had not broken Alex’s rule.

“Now, where did you pop up from, my lovely? There is a woman under all those clothes. It’s our lucky day.”

She took a small step back toward the ladder.

The second sailor stepped around behind her, blocking her path to safety. He was smaller than the first and had a huge scar running down the left side of his face, making his mouth twist into a snarl. She fought down a shudder.

Hestia rallied. “Jacob sent me to help. He’ll be along in a minute—”

“Not likely. See that small dot up there?”

The first sailor spoke again. “She must be His Grace’s doxy. Perhaps His Grace wouldn’t mind sharing.” He moved closer. “Well, how about we pop in this here gun cupboard and I’ll introduce myself to you properly.” Then he laughed raucously.

“Leave her alone, Connor. His Grace will flog us all if you mess with her.” The third, younger and smaller, sailor stepped forward.

The man called Connor lifted a hand as if to strike him but thought better of it. “Shut up, you sniveling weasel. I’m just going to have a bit of fun.” He moved more determinedly toward her. “Patrick, you keep watch, this shouldn’t take long.” With that his hands snaked out to grab her. Hestia couldn’t get her feet to move, but just before his dirty fingers touched her, Patrick hissed, “It’s Foxhall.”

Hestia immediately moved to the edge of the poop deck and called down, “Mr. Foxhall, I’m up here looking for you. His Grace informs me you’ll show me around the ship.”

Mr. Foxhall’s eyes narrowed when he took in the three men circling her. He swung up the rope ladder and landed with a thump of his two huge feet on the deck. “Are you all right, my lady?” His size and manner quickly forced down the aggressive Connor.

She beamed prettily at him and crossed to his side. “I’m fine, thank you. These gentlemen were simply showing me the armaments.”

She hoped Mr. Foxhall couldn’t see her hands trembling; the last thing she needed was trouble. If Alex got wind of this threat she’d be locked in her room permanently, and that was the last thing she needed. But perhaps she’d be slightly more careful where and with whom she went on this ship.

He eyed the men suspiciously. “Well, men, get back to work. Stop staring or I’ll have the skin off your backs.”

Mr. Foxhall looked at her sternly. “I thought His Grace would have told you that this ship isn’t a safe place for a woman. Don’t you go wandering around without one of us by your side.” Looking directly at Connor he said, “Some men might forget their manners.”

As he turned to escort her below, Hestia caught the look of pure evil spreading across Connor’s face. His eyes darkened and he looked like he’d love to plunge a knife into Mr. Foxhall’s back. His fists were clenched at his side and veins in his neck stuck out. She shivered. She now understood she’d had a very lucky escape.

Once back on the main deck, Hestia turned all her charm on the man at her side. “I thought maybe you’d escort me about the ship; I required some fresh air.” She beamed prettily at him, clasping her hands behind her back. “Are you free to accompany me?”

Mr. Foxhall looked about to decline her request, but as her smile dimmed he nodded. “It’s a pleasant day for a stroll.”

Perhaps she could get Mr. Foxhall to reveal a bit about Alex’s past.

Slipping her hand onto his massive forearm, Hestia smiled and said, “I should really learn my way about the ship just in case. I’m sure you can explain her workings to me as we walk, and indicate any good hiding places should I ever need them.”

“That’s a good point. If we are boarded, there are a couple of places many would not think to look.”

With that they set out on a pleasant amble around the massive ship. He warmed to his task, filling her head with stories of the ship’s power and mastery of the sea. His awe for the ship was matched only by his regard for its owner, Alex.

“Alex was saying you have sailed with him before, Mr. Foxhall.”

“Please, call me David. It seems ridiculous to keep up such formality given our circumstances.”

“Only if you call me Hestia,” she replied.

“Hestia. Goddess of hearth and home. If I had such a lovely woman at home I’m sure I’d prefer to stay on land.”

His rakish smile made it seem as if he were flirting with her, and her self-esteem perked up. At least one handsome man found her engaging.

“I have heard the sea is a mistress many men find hard to give up.” She waited to hear his response.

“Not for me. I could easily give it up for a different kind of life. It wasn’t the sea that drew me. It was the adventure.” He looked out at the horizon. “I have loved visiting different countries and seeing the many different peoples of the world. It has only reinforced what is important universally: home and family. Every country I have visited, that is what people strive for—a good life for their families.”

They had halted by a very large cannon. Before she could respond, David said, “There is a crawl space behind the mouth of the cannon. See the wood boxing in the end of the cannon? You are small enough to fit in the gap of the cannon’s casing. No one would think to search for you there.”

She looked at the row of cannons on this deck and at the type of sailors on board the ship. “You are expecting trouble. Are we being followed?”

“Alex is always careful when sailing in these waters.” He indicated with his arm to move on.

She tried to make light of his somber caution. “So he should be. I know how dangerous the pirates in these waters can be.” She’d been taken because she slipped away from her father’s men to swim in what she had thought was a deserted cove. When the pirates attacked, her screams brought the men who were supposed to protect her running, but the ruthless pirates left none of the men guarding her alive. They had muffled her screams and no one noticed them carrying her off.

David squeezed her hand. “There is no need to be brave in front of me. Your capture by Murad must have been terrifying.”

She swallowed the ever-rising fear. “I’m more prepared this time. I won’t do anything foolish.”

He simply smiled and began to tell her about the size of the hold and the freshwater tanks. They would take on more fresh water in Mallorca.

How could she bring the conversation subtly back to Alex? “I know Jacob used to tease Alex that he brought more water on board than rum.”

“It must have been a strange voyage for you with him last time. Alex said you rebounded well and made the trip home quite an adventure.”

Hestia colored beneath his knowing gaze. “I enjoyed the voyage. My father was not happy that he’d had to rely on Alex to rescue me. It’s strange. On the one hand he treats Alex like the son he never had, but then he seemed offended at the friendship I had built with Alex.”

David’s smile faded. His face closed as if he were miles away. Hestia held her breath. Would he tell her? She’d almost given up hope when his quiet words stopped her.

“I’ve sailed with Alex for many years. I’ll be the first to admit he has a dark side, but don’t you listen to any man who tries to sully his character. He has made mistakes, I admit it, but he’s learned from them. Picked himself back up. He’s a good man. He’d never hurt you. Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

Hestia touched his arm once more, trying to relieve his distress. “He’s the finest man I know. Nobody would ever be able to convince me differently.”

The loyal friend smiled down at her. “I hope you can convince him of that fact. He needs someone like you to show him his true self. He needs someone. He thinks he doesn’t. He thinks he’s beyond redemption. You’ll let him know how wrong he is.”

She took a step back. “What does he seek redemption from?”

David’s features closed down. He ignored her question and muttered, “Don’t let him scare you off. He’ll try, you know. Just look out for him. You’ll eventually break down his defenses. He’ll see what’s right under his nose.”

With that last puzzling comment, she noted they were right back at the hatchway to her cabin. Once inside, Hestia lay on her bunk and tried to fathom the enigma that was Alex.

David wanted her to break down his defenses. How could she when she didn’t understand what he was defending himself against?

What drove a man like Alex? Years ago he’d ended up a captive of Murad because he’d agreed to lead his men in the 1807 war against the Ottoman Empire. Why had the eldest son of a duke gone to war?

A light flashed in her head. How could she love the man when she didn’t really know him? She knew a part of him, the part he shared with a young girl of sixteen, who’d been traumatized by Murad.

How stupid of her. She’d misunderstood his kindness and attentiveness. In her youth she’d mistaken it for interest. She thought he reciprocated the feelings he stirred within her. But now she saw quite clearly that he’d been indulging her.

She slapped her hand to her forehead. Stupid. No wonder he’d tried to avoid her; he was embarrassed by her assumption of feelings. Her face was aflame with heat.

She’d been waiting all this time for Alex to act on his feelings and propose, when he didn’t view their relationship in that way.

A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. She was in love with a man whom she didn’t really know and who did not view her in the same light.

What was she to do? Grow up, that’s what.

She rolled over and sat up on the edge of her bed. Hestia took a deep breath and made a vow. She would not follow Alex around like a lost puppy anymore. She would treat him with respect, and as a friend. An acquaintance. Perhaps if she did not chase him so much he might notice her and begin to see her differently.

She didn’t want to disrupt Alex’s plans to find her father. Her family.

A deep longing gripped her—family.

As an only child she had always longed for siblings. She vividly pictured what a life with Alex would be like. Alex had two brothers and two sisters whom he adored. His father was dead, but she got the feeling they had been estranged. From the family stories he told her, it appeared that he indulged and tolerated his mother. From his tales of childhood she knew the siblings were close, and Hestia felt as if she knew them already. She liked his sisters, especially Therese, who was the same age as her.

How she’d longed to have siblings. What would it be like to be part of a large loving family? To have a sister to share secrets with? A brother to tease and to shield you from danger? To have family who cared about you and wanted to see you, include you, and be with you?

She wanted to have loads of children.

She’d planned to provide Alex with plenty of healthy sons and daughters, and she expected to thoroughly enjoy making them. The Bedford family seat, Bracken Park, would be filled with warmth, happiness, and energy, as well as something tangible—a contentment that grew from shared love, a partnership that filled the soul.

She’d never envisioned a life without Alex, but the realization that he really did not see her as a potential duchess cut deep.

Was it because he did not consider her good enough to be his wife? Her Welsh heritage, the kidnapping and scandal, all black marks on her character? Or had her constant adoration pained him? Why did he keep pushing her away, when it was obvious from the flare in his eyes when they did meet that he was not immune to her?

She knew if he ever married anyone else it would destroy her world.

While Hestia was entirely comfortable at Cresselly House, her home in Pembrokeshire, Wales, she hated the days of isolation. She was grateful that she had her aunt for company and the staff were excellent, had known her since she was born. They had loved her mother, and in turn loved and cared for her.

But it wasn’t the same. There was the gap of their stations in life that would always separate them. Plus she had no other children her own age to play with. That is why she’d jumped at the chance to accompany her father on one of his trips. A grave mistake, as it turned out. It had only made it impossible for her to ever accompany him again and had led to further isolation while the scandal died down.

She was not entirely unhappy, but she knew the only true glow of happiness she’d ever experienced was by Alex’s side. He’d never judged her for what occurred. Nor had he ever tried to make her feel ashamed. Yet looking back she could see it all so clearly now—he’d indulged her like he did his mother.

For long moments, she stared unseeing across the cabin, then she mentally shook herself and concentrated on what she should do now.