CHAPTER 24
Anne
Teach’s eyes darkened, the expression in them stealing her breath. She should have pretended as if his nearness did not affect her. But it did, and instead of stepping back, she stepped closer. “Yes,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice. “A very special sort of regard.”
He apparently needed no further confirmation. He cradled her face in his hands, and his lips met hers, their mouths fitting together perfectly. Anne’s heart fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird in a cage. But she didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.
His clever fingers found the bare skin at the nape of her neck and wound into the strands that had come loose from her bun, tilting her head to an upward slant.
Anne fought to control the reckless rhythm of her pulse as he increased the pressure of their kiss. Her legs threatened to give way, and her hands traced down the fine linen of his shirt, feeling the solid strength of muscle underneath. For the rest of her life she would remember that moment. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees. The earthy scent of the moss beneath their feet, and the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. Her first kiss.
When at last he pulled away, Anne swayed forward, slightly dazed. “We . . . we shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
Breathing hard, his chest rising and falling steadily, Teach gave a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry, but I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you.”
“It was a mistake.”
“You cannot tell me you have not wanted the same thing, Anne.”
Anne swallowed, unable to lie. It took considerable effort on her part not to lean into his embrace. She had thought about it, more than she cared to admit. Ever since he’d arrived, he had haunted her dreams. “But you’re promised to another.” She could not bring herself to speak Patience’s name.
“Promised? What good is a promise to someone else when my heart belongs to you? What good is a promise when I might not live to see another day?”
Anne refused to think about the inquiry. In spite of Teach’s scorn, Anne still believed Drummond would somehow come through for him. “What we’ve just done is no different from what Mary did to John.”
“Do not compare my feelings for you to those of that strumpet. Mary never cared for John. He was a lover of convenience. I do not hold out much hope for Tom, either. Give her a week or two, and she’ll have moved on to someone else.”
His words did little to ease her guilt. “Still, your father—”
“Oh, yes, my father. My union with Miss Patience is his will, not mine.”
Anne took a step back. It was too hard to think with him standing so close. “But you agreed,” she reminded him.
“I was sixteen years old and still an obedient boy! I didn’t know any better. Do you think I could predict the future? Back then I saw Patience as my father wanted me to see her. She was a pretty face with a title. My father filled my head with stories of the aristocracy, how their life of leisure enabled them to cultivate their minds and improve their tastes. He spoke of their power and how much they could achieve, and like a fool, I listened to him.”
Anne felt sorry for the boy Teach had once been, blindly believing everything his father had said. Her own upbringing had been so different. “You couldn’t have known.”
“But how I wish I had. Who would have thought that three years later, I’d care so little for appearance and prestige. I’ve learned so much, Anne, about people and about life. You seem to have had that understanding already, but I needed to leave this place to discover who I was and what I truly wanted. What’s truly important.”
“You’re just upset about the inquiry. You’re frightened—”
“Yes, I’m frightened, but the inquiry is only part of it. If I come out of this alive, as you so firmly believe I will, what will my future hold? I refuse to wed someone whose most pressing thoughts are about the color of her gown or what sandwiches she should serve for tea. I want a life, a partnership, with someone who has the same interests as I do. I want to share something with someone that is greater and more important than table settings and dinner parties. I want to spend my life with you.”
“But that’s impossible,” Anne said, backing away from him. He had no right to speak of such things, even if, deep down, she shared the same desires. “Your father . . . Miss Patience is quite intent on marrying you.”
“Of course she is. It’s not a marriage as much as it is a contract.”
“She is a baron’s daughter. You are a merchant’s son. What are they gaining from the agreement?”
“The baron has mismanaged his funds. A union with me and my father’s money will benefit both families, for my father will have gained a title for his family, and the baron’s estate will thrive.”
Anne was quiet for a moment, his words sinking in. “All at your expense,” she whispered. “You’re even more of a prisoner than I am,” she said.
Teach took her in his arms. “More than you could ever know. From the moment I saw you, you captured my heart and I was powerless to do anything about it.”
Anne looked up, unable to bear the sadness in his voice, for it mirrored her own. He kissed her again, hesitantly at first, but when she responded, he pressed his lips hungrily to hers. Teach held her close, and Anne sighed as he trailed kisses across her face to her throat.
“A life with Patience would be no life at all,” he murmured into her hair.
“Don’t say that,” she said.
“It’s true. I would rather face the gallows than marry her. It’s you I love. You with your tender heart and fierce strength.”
Anne pulled away, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “No, you’ll see. Your father will have the charges dropped. And once that happens, you . . . you will do as you’ve promised and marry Patience. You’ll still have a roof over your head and someone to come home to.”
“But that someone cares more for baubles and trinkets than she does for me. What good is a warm hearth when the heart of my future wife is as cold as ice?”
“That’s a far cry more than what I will get. The illegitimate daughter of a dead merchant and a slave. Do you think anyone would have me, as different as I am? I have no prospects and no family to claim me.”
“I will take you! Come away with me, Anne. Just the two of us. The devil take my father and everyone else. You and I can leave this place, together.”
Hope flared within her breast at his words, but she quickly extinguished it. As much as she wanted to leave with him, she could not. “And where will we go, Teach? Where in the world can we go where people will accept us? Until the inquiry is complete, you will be a wanted man. To leave now would only proclaim your guilt. But I cannot stay here. People will forever look at me and see our differences, not our similarities.”
“What I want more than anything else in this world is to be with you.”
“But for how long? Will you tire of me, just like you tired of Miss Patience?”
Teach regarded her with a mixture of surprise and outrage. “I would never tire of you. We are too alike. Even you must see that.”
“It would never work,” she said, desperate to stop this madness, for that was what it was.
He stepped forward, his face flushed with emotion. “Please,” he whispered. “I love you, Anne. Nothing is more important than that.”
Anne shook her head, shutting her eyes in an effort to clear her mind. “No. I’m sorry. It’s not right.”
Teach stood still, his mouth a thin line. “I’m not giving up,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “You belong with me, and I will make you see that. I’ll talk to my father—”
“You know he won’t change his mind. Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” Anne pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. “Please, just stop.”
He studied her, anguish visible in every line on his face. Without another word he turned on his heel and strode off, ripping at the hanging branches of the willow. Anne held one hand to her stomach, sick with despair.
Teach was right. She loved him. Anne wasn’t sure how or when it had happened, but she recognized as much as he did the strength of her feelings. It could have been the time they’d spent together, reading and discussing Dampier’s book. Teach saw Anne as his equal, and wanted to hear her thoughts and opinions.
It could be that their visit to his mother’s cottage had stimulated the first stirrings of affection. He’d been so pleased when she’d recognized its simple beauty.
Anne had missed Teach when he’d been away at the Hervey estate, more than she’d been willing to admit. It was Teach who set her heart racing. When she closed her eyes at night, he filled her dreams, and when she opened them the next morning, he filled her thoughts. All of this should have acted as a warning, but Anne was untested in the art of love.
If Anne or Teach went against his father’s wishes, Richard Drummond would not hesitate to throw them out. Without a penny between them, where could they go? What kind of a life could they lead? Teach was drawn to the sea, like a willow to water, but as adventurous as Anne was, a ship was no place for a woman for an extended period of time.
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, in an effort to stop the thoughts swirling through her head. She hoped to be able to talk Mr. Drummond into giving her the three thousand pounds her father had left her, more now than ever.
She could not stay here and idly stand by while Teach married another woman. Nor could she stay in the same city where she might run into him at some point. She needed to leave England. It was clear that when the Deliverance set sail, Anne had to be on it.
But she would have to wait until the inquiry was resolved, before she could approach Teach’s father.
Drained of energy, as if her stroll through the garden had been five times the distance, Anne headed back to the manor. With a heavy heart she entered the courtyard. Hearing the sound of an approaching carriage, she turned. After pulling the two horses to a stop beside the house, the driver jumped down to open the door. Miss Patience had returned.