Chapter 15

Alex drummed his fingers on the table. He was ravenous. “Is she normally this late? Supper is getting cold.” After a blissful bath, he’d made his first foray up on deck that day, and the sea spray and breeze lifted his spirits.

Jacob threw him a stern look. “Perhaps all these late nights of seeing to your needs have finally caught up with the girl.” His sarcasm was not lost on those at the table.

David flashed a concerned look between the two and began to rise. “Perhaps I should look in on her.”

Before he could move, young Ned arrived. “Lady Hestia apologizes, but she has a slight headache and has requested supper in her room. She says to go ahead and eat without her.”

David threw down his napkin. “I’ll just check it’s nothing serious,” and he left the table.

Jacob’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t tell him then.”

Alex shrugged and began to fill his plate. “There seemed no point.”

“You think it right he learns on his wedding night?”

He stopped with his plate half full. “You think I’d let David marry her now? I’m offended.”

“It hardly seems fair turning her into a widow a few days after her wedding.” As Alex gently put his plate down on the table, Jacob added, “You’re in no state to take on Murad.”

His anger subsided. He could hardly deny the truth.

“Why don’t we simply find the earl and return to England? Murad can wait for another day. Marry the girl, make an heir, and live for the future instead of the past.”

Alex sank back in his chair, anger, shock, and disbelief warring inside. How could Jacob think he could put what Murad did to him out of his mind? Simply forget the past—after he’d tried for four years? “Would you not seek vengeance if in my position?”

“Don’t get that thunderous look. You’ve let Murad be for over four years. Four years! Why now? The only reason you’re thinking of revenge is because Hestia handed you a reason to come to Murad’s stamping ground.”

That was also true.

“It took me almost a year to recover. Then Father was ill and I was expected to run the estate. Some of us have responsibilities. Then my father died and I became the Duke of Bedford and had several duties thrust upon me. I have worked hard and I have waited for my brother Harris to come of age. He’s twenty, almost one and twenty. If anything happens to me he’ll be able to manage the dukedom.” He looked at Jacob. “I would have gone after Murad later this year anyway. Hestia’s situation simply brought my departure forward.”

“That’s why you requested I add more cannons to the Angelica a few months ago.”

He nodded. “I always planned to go after Murad, and a letter I received from Costa just before I came to London meant I would have left England a few months from now anyway.”

Costa was a fisherman who had rescued Alex in the Mediterranean after his escape from Murad.

“Costa has information on Murad?”

Alex continued to fill his plate. He needed to rebuild his strength. “Yes.”

“I assume Costa knows you are coming then? Our arrival will not be a surprise.” As Alex merely grinned, Jacob added, “I wish you had told me this from the start.”

“What difference does it make?”

“I would have suggested confronting Fredrick Cary before leaving London and marrying Hestia before we left. The worst thing that could occur is if Cary joins forces with Murad. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

That thought made the food on his plate look like ash. Bloody Cary did know of his past. But would Cary dare to enter any kind of agreement with Murad? Murad was a slippery snake who would turn and strike friend or foe if there was profit in it. However, Murad wanted Alex back—and not only for profit. He’d pay anything to accomplish Alex’s capture. Cary would know that.

That is why he’d instructed his family solicitor not to pay any ransom should he be captured. He’d already decided to die if he were caught. He’d not be Murad’s plaything ever again.

Jacob asked, “You think Fredrick Cary is on that sloop as well?”

Alex nodded. “If I were him I would not leave a loose end like Lady Hestia, or ignore the chance the earl might alert anyone to his treachery before Fredrick disposes of him.”

“Bloody hell, you’re right. We have to capture the sloop.”

“Aye, we do, but not near Pentati. Should we fail we can’t let Cary lead Murad to Costa and his crew.”

Alex took a long slug of wine. “We can’t engage them with Hestia on board. Can we?” At Jacob’s grim face, he added, “You have an idea.”

“I suggest we head to the other side of the island. Wait until nightfall and under the cover of darkness we row Hestia and Foxhall and some men ashore, hoping the sloop is too far away from us to see.”

“Then we engage the sloop.”

“It can’t outrun us for long, and one well-aimed cannon shot should send her to the bottom of the sea.”

He pondered that point. “Don’t we need Fredrick Cary alive?”

“Do we? Would it not be best for Hestia and her father if he did not survive?”

But unless he saw a body, Alex would not take anything for granted. There was too much at stake. “I’d need proof he died. I’d prefer to capture him.”

Alex played with his food as he thought through the situation. Fredrick dead would be a perfectly acceptable choice, but perhaps the earl deserved the right to decide his cousin’s fate. He wanted to kill Murad himself. That honor went to him and him alone. He had this terrible feeling that the terror of his captivity would only fade away if he killed Murad himself.

Would the earl want to exert his own justice against Fredrick Cary?

There was only one problem as Alex saw it. “How do you propose to capture the sloop without sending it to the bottom of the sea? It’s capable of short, sharp bursts of speed and it can tack quicker than us.”

“We simply threaten to sink her. If I know anything of Fredrick Cary, he’s a coward at heart and he’d prefer to live to fight another day.”

“Sometimes you are bloody brilliant.”

Jacob gave a wry smile. “I didn’t think you kept me around for my scintillating conversation.”

Both men smiled with renewed vigor from arriving at a course of action and they both began eating with gusto.

At the end of the meal Jacob said, “You best go and alert Foxhall and her ladyship to our plan. The sooner we capture the sloop, the sooner we can focus on a more evil adversary.”

Alex looked down at his plate. “You can tell them.”

“You have to face her sometime. You have to face both of them. It was you who put the notion of a marriage to Lady Hestia in Foxhall’s head, and it looks as though he’s come to have feelings for the lass.”

Alex’s head whipped round. “Are you implying I should let him marry her as planned?”

Jacob shrugged. “Why do you care? Destroying Murad is all you care about, all you’ve thought about for four long years. You’ve not thought past the day you’ll face your nemesis.”

An image of Hestia large and round with child immediately flashed in his brain—his child. What would it be like to have a family, have her with him always?

He wasn’t a saint where women were concerned, but he’d never fathered a child, and his relationship with Tulay lasted almost two years before she was killed and she had had no issue. He wondered if he could. He’d never cared about children before, consumed with revenge instead. It bothered him that just as he was bent on seeking his revenge, thoughts of a life with Hestia had begun to intrude.

Damn her father. Over the years he had kept away from her on purpose, wanting nothing to confuse his need to slake his thirst for revenge.

The light in his heart was because he’d been Hestia’s first. His body screamed that she belonged to him. His heart slapped in his chest because he knew he did not deserve her. Even now he could not put her first.

“I’m not going to make any decision on who Hestia marries until we reach Pentati. Foxhall doesn’t need to know anything until I decide what to do.”

Jacob shook his head. “That decision speaks volumes. The old Alex would know honor dictates you do the right thing. Don’t let Murad warp you into a man I don’t recognize.” Jacob stood and walked to place a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Think carefully on what you really want. Revenge makes a cold bedfellow. Even colder if Murad kills you.” Jacob stood looking at him with pity in his eyes, and Alex almost choked on it. “Murad has taken so much from you already. I understand the burning pain and the desire to seek revenge, but wouldn’t the best revenge be to spit on Murad from afar and show him how he has not won? That you have not spent the last four years bitter and tormented but have in fact built a new life full of love and family?”

“I can’t…” Alex’s fists clenched. “I can’t forget…”

Jacob sighed, and his hand left Alex’s shoulder; the coldness crept back into Alex’s skin. “Aye, after what you’ve been through I daresay I’d feel the same.”

There was nothing more to say. Jacob left to go up on deck and Alex knew he had to face Hestia. He couldn’t wait any longer.

He made his way to her cabin and hesitated outside the door. Her supper tray lay on the floor, virtually untouched. Perhaps she was ill. He knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Again, he got no answer.

As quietly as he could, Alex opened the door and looked inside. There was a lantern lighting a strip on the cabin floor. He could just make out Hestia’s tiny frame curled like a child under the sheet.

He stood watching her for a moment, trying to decide if she was feigning sleep. She was breathing evenly. He tiptoed across the cabin until he reached her bunk. The light grazed her face and he could tell that she was indeed asleep.

Her hand was tucked under her cheek, her mouth was slightly open, and she was emitting soft little snuffles. She looked so much younger than twenty. Almost as young as the first time he’d seen her, when she’d stood naked and defiant before Murad.

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and let his finger glide over her silky, soft cheek. His heart ached in his chest and he silently cursed his nemesis, wondering what his life could have been like if he had not been captured.

Could he have found happiness with a woman like Hestia?

Would his duties as a duke have sustained him?

He thought back over the last four years and all he’d accomplished for his family, tenants, and country. He took pride in the fact that he had worked extremely hard to ensure his estates were profitable. As for the House of Lords, he didn’t attend regularly, but when he did his peers took notice. When he was in attendance, it meant he had something to say and they sat and listened.

Yet deep in his soul all his accomplishments were not enough. They did not chase his nightmares away, nor did they give him peace. He was sure the only way to put the past behind him was to kill Murad with his own two hands. Only then would he find peace.

Not even the beautiful woman lying on this bunk, like an angel, could sway him from his course of action. What he had left of his heart could quite easily belong to her—if he let it. The devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear, If you could capture Fredrick there would be no need for her to marry Foxhall. The selfish man that he was, he realized that he had a chance with Hestia if he forswore Foxhall.

If he survived his fight with Murad, would Hestia understand his thirst to be avenged and wait for him? Would she forgive him for taking advantage of her in his drug-induced haze? Could they have a life together once his past was put to rest?

He could wake Hestia now and learn his answer. But he knew that would be dangerous. She would ask questions and demand answers. Answers he did not wish to give.

He did not know what he would do if Hestia begged him to forgo his quest. What if she asked him to simply find her father, and then take them all safely back to England?

What was worse by far was the fear that he might even listen to her. He wanted the life she offered. He’d be tempted to forgo his vengeance.

But then Hestia would only have half a man for a husband. How long would it be before the injustice of what Murad did to him, did to Tulay, ate through his soul and his need for opium grew to the point he could not function without it? He could not bear for Hestia to be stuck married to that man, the opium eater who could not function as a husband or a duke should.

With a heavy heart he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip and decided their conversation could wait.

Capture Fredrick, find the earl, then hand her safely into her father’s care. He would of course offer his hand in marriage. It was the honorable thing to do.

He would need to marry her before he went after Murad. If he died, Hestia needed to have the protection of his name because he had taken her innocence, and though very unlikely, she might be with child.

He took one more look at her sleeping form and then silently left the room.

Hestia loved dreaming.

Her skin burned, her body quivered with longing.

She drifted awake as dawn broke. She lay back, a satisfied smile on her lips. The dream had been thrilling, the rumpled sheets indicating her disturbed sleep. Her fingers touched her mouth. She ached for the feel of his soft, firm lips. Her night in his arms had fulfilled her wildest fantasies and her dreams relived her experience in vivid glory.

She dreamed of Alex. Her heart fluttered in her breast at the thought of him. There was no hiding from the truth in the gray dawn light.

She’d loved him from the minute she’d met him. He was the first man to awaken the woman in her, to set her body trembling with just one look. She’d fallen in love with him on their voyage home from the Greek isles.

It wasn’t simply that he’d saved her, although how could her hero not turn her head? Alex was stunningly beautiful, like a Greek god, with chiseled features and rippling muscles; it was the essence of the man she learned about as they sailed home to England. His force of personality drew her like the roaring flames of a fire on a cold day.

He was brave.

In order to rescue her, he’d had to face the man who’d held him captive and who used him like a slave for over two years. With strength and courage, he’d faced Murad in order to save her, when he could so easily have been captured again. He’d given no thought to the risk of failure.

He was selfless.

Alex had had to dump his cargo, a fortune’s worth of goods and antiquities, in order to ensure their ship was light and fast so they could outrun the pirates Murad sent after them.

He was kind.

Alex had ensured she was not embarrassed by her treatment at the hands of the sultan. He spent time comforting a young girl when she had nightmares about her ordeal. He promised he’d never let anyone hurt her again, and he proved it over and over again. His calm assurance gave her the strength and pride to overcome the indignity of her captivity.

He had patience.

Even when she’d followed him about the ship like a little puppy, he’d never let his irritation at having a shadow by his side show. She didn’t understand back then, but as she grew up she understood the ribbing his crew threw at him over her singular devotion to him.

But most of all it was his tenderness that captured her heart, body, and soul.

The way he’d tended her wounds. He had treated her as if she were the most delicate flower in the garden. His fingers on her face and body had been gentle, commanding, and for a young girl of sixteen, on the brink of womanhood, stimulating.

He was the only man for her. A man who would be a true partner, and who wouldn’t try and closet her away. He’d never want a woman to simply bear children and run his household. He treated her as an equal.

But last night had taught her one more thing about Alex.

He did not love her.

How could he when he dreamed of a woman named Tulay?

She’d thought of everything when choosing whom she wanted to marry except for the most important. You could not make someone love you no matter how much you loved them.

To her everlasting embarrassment, she had to face the man to whom she’d given herself, as if nothing had happened between them the other night.

She’d die if he ever found out she’d taken advantage of him when he was in a drug-induced sleep. If he learned what she had done, he would insist on marrying her, and she could not bear to trap him when he did not love her. Or worse still, loved another.

Tulay.

Decision made. She would act as if nothing had occurred.

Once dressed, Hestia made her way to the stateroom for breakfast. Of course, as if the day could not get any worse, the only person at the table was Alex. She ran her hand down her breeches and tried to gain leverage over her skittering emotions.

She took a deep breath and relaxed against the cabin wall just out of his line of sight, and contented herself to stare at him.

She wondered if the other night had changed her view of him.

It hadn’t.

He was still handsome and yet now more familiar. Her heart did a flip in her chest.

Her hands itched to touch his face, to trace the line of his firm jaw and high cheekbones, to brush his hair away from his slashing eyebrows so she could get a better look at his long, thick eyelashes that framed eyes that matched the ocean they sailed upon. She’d dreamed of sliding a finger down his crooked nose, which he’d broken when saving her from Murad.

She had often dreamed of the day she could run her thumb over his sinful lips—she’d done that and much more the other night. Her skin tingled. She knew what it was like to taste his lips, and she hungered for more.

He looked better. The pain lines around his mouth had eased. He was still not fighting fit, but in profile he looked more like an angel than ever. With a slight frown, Hestia thought maybe more like a fallen angel. His tempting lips were set in a cynical smile and his stare had turned cool and hard. If she didn’t know him better, she’d believe all the stories about him being a jaded pleasure seeker who didn’t give a damn about much of anything or anyone. With a smile she knew that wasn’t true. He cared enough to help her and her father.

As if sensing her stare, her archangel turned his head and met her gaze. Her breath caught in her throat; she’d never tire of this vision of unearthly male beauty.

His eyes grew wary and he motioned for her to enter and take a seat.

She put on a brave smile. “You are looking so much better. It is good to see you up and about.”

A flash of confusion and then what looked like relief washed his cheeks with color.

He was so close she could reach out her hand and touch the elegant features of his face.

She felt a moment’s alarm. Surely he had not remembered their night together. No, he would have come to her immediately if he had.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” Alex’s soft words broke the silence, his voice as smooth as velvet, sending tingles down her back.

“Not that I can think of. Other than I assume I can now go back to sleeping at night instead of playing nursemaid.”

He remained silent, his eyes assessing her as she began to butter some toast. By the time she poured her tea, she was all fingers and thumbs.

Her pulse sped up. “Would you stop staring at me, Alex? I feel like I have two heads. What on earth is the matter?”

“Nothing.” Alex relaxed and gave her a dazzling smile in return. The smile lit up the whole stateroom and her heart swelled in her chest.

“I did want to discuss…that is I thought it best we talk…”

She dropped the teapot onto the table with a bang. “Talk? What about?”

He hesitated, seemingly at a loss as to what to say.

She kept her face devoid of emotion, willing him not to press the point, but she had a suspicion Alex knew something had happened between them; perhaps not the exact details, thank God.

“About our plan to capture the sloop.”

Her breath exhaled in a rush when he did not press the matter. “It’s still following us, I gather.”

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure Fredrick’s on it. The earl and you will be much safer if we capture him.”

“How do you propose to do that?” She didn’t much care, really, but she was so relieved not to be discussing what occurred the other night.

As he outlined his plan her stomach began to settle. He did not know the complete truth, and a surge of relief swept her fear away.

“So be prepared to leave the ship with Mr. Foxhall as night falls.”

Damn, she’d missed the plan. “With Mr. Foxhall?”

“Did you listen to anything I said?”

“Can you just repeat that bit, as I was too busy eating? I did not have much supper last night.”

“I noticed. Your tray was barely touched.” At her look of confusion, he added, “I came by your cabin last night to see how you were feeling.”

“I had a headache.”

“So I was told,” he said, and explained his plan once again. When he’d finished he stared into her eyes, his gaze hypnotizing. “Are you sure there is nothing bothering you or something you wish to tell me?”

She would play dumb. “No. Nothing other than I must have been overheated. My head was thumping. David—that is, Mr. Foxhall—gave me some powders for it.”

“Well, when you go ashore with Mr. Foxhall, promise me you’ll stay close to him. He’ll protect you should anything go wrong.”

“I swear to follow his every direction. If we capture Fredrick, what then?”

“I will leave you, David, and some of the men with my friends on Corfu. They will hold Fredrick until I find your father.”

“And then you’ll go after Murad?”

His mouth almost fell open. “You know of my plan.”

“David told me.”

His mouth firmed and she watched his hand curl into a fist.

She reached for his hand and held it tightly. “I can understand why you’d want revenge if we crossed paths with Murad again, but I don’t know why you think it wise to chase after him. This is his territory. He has more men, more spies, and the idea that you could enter these waters and he wouldn’t hear about it is ludicrous.”

He slowly withdrew his hand from hers.

She pressed on. “What about your family, tenants, those who look to you for their livelihoods? Why are you risking your life when it won’t bring back those stolen two years?”

“We are not having this discussion.”

“I finally understand why you don’t want us with you when you face him. You are worried Murad might win.” She hesitated before softly whispering, “Well, I am too. He’s already taken so much from you, don’t let him take your life too.”

He turned and thumped the table. “You have no idea—”

“Don’t I?”

Alex sneered. “You were held by his men for all of a few days. I was held by Murad for two years. Two years. You have no idea what he did to me, what I did to myself, to others…”

“No. I don’t. I don’t really want to know, but perhaps it will help you to talk about it. The pain of your past is eating you up inside. I can see how you have changed from the man I sailed home with. You’ve grown increasingly bitter and you keep others at a distance.”

“That is because I’m a dangerous man to be around.”

She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never known a more honorable man.”

His face darkened. “That’s because you don’t really know me. If you did, you’d ensure your devotion moved to someone more worthy.”

“I don’t really know you? I think I do. I think I know the man you’ve hidden away. This”—she waved her hand up and down his body—“this man I am talking to now I surely don’t know.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pretty sure the other night you got to know this man very well.”

His terse words drew her up short. Oh God, he knew. Her face flamed with heat.

“Yet you choose to pretend nothing has occurred between us. You must have a reason. If I am such a good man, why have you not demanded I do the honorable thing? Or is it because you know you took advantage—”

Her gasp made Alex’s mouth snap shut. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed.

Hurt beyond pain, she rose to her feet. “Who is Tulay?” she asked softly.

He stopped his pacing and swung to face her, a look of such devastation on his face she wished she could take the words back.

“Who told you abut Tulay? If bloody Jacob has been telling tales I’ll—”

“You did.” He took a step back. “You called out her name in your dreams.” She heard him murmur nightmares. “Who is she?”

“She was my—paramour—more than that, she was one of my lifelines while in captivity.”

Was?

Alex’s words came out deep and low. “We were together, like a husband and wife, while I was in captivity.”

She swallowed. “What happened to her?”

“She was beaten to death because of me. Her blood is on my hands. On Murad’s hands. And I will not rest until I have avenged her.”

It all suddenly made terrible sense. He was an honorable man as she’d always thought. He also was a man who would protect those he loved. This wasn’t about his revenge for being kept a slave by Murad. It was revenge for a woman he loved. She could feel his agony from here.

“You must have loved her greatly.”

He laughed and shook his head. “In the state we were both in we were not capable of love, but we did share a bond. I promised her we would escape—together. I let her down.”

“You are too hard on yourself. You were a captive too; how were you supposed to save her when you could not save yourself?”

He sank back into the chair on the other side of the dining table. “Why did you pretend nothing occurred between us?”

“When you said Tulay’s name, I thought you were in love with another woman.”

An awkward pause followed her revelation. Finally Alex said, “I don’t think I’m capable of love. I certainly wasn’t back then. All I wanted was opium or pleasure to take away my pain. Murad twisted my soul, and until I find peace for both myself and Tulay, I can’t move on.”

He was telling her to give up on him, and that she refused to do.

“I understand what’s driving you, but are you sure Tulay would want you to give up your life to destroy Murad? Wouldn’t she want you to live, be happy, have a life you both craved? The life she could never have?”

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the situation you find yourself in. I’ve ruined you.”

Hestia wanted to disagree, but he was right. She was no longer a virgin.

“I could have also got you with child, but odds are low. I’ve never fathered any children.”

Probably a blessing, Hestia thought to herself. For his child to be born in captivity to Murad would have been a living hell for any parent, and if he’d fathered a girl…She shuddered in the warm humid air.

“So what are we going to do about our situation?” Alex asked. “The wise thing would be for you to become my wife. You would be protected by my name, by my family.”

Her hope rose. “If we marry will you still go after Murad?”

He merely nodded.

“I see.” She knew what her father would want. He’d want her reputation, which was hardly spotless to begin with, saved, even if it meant marrying Alex. It hurt less that he’d not loved Tulay, but he’d also implied he did not love her.

Many would say that friendship was a good basis for a marriage. She would disagree. Marriage lasted a lifetime, and friendships could change—look at her parents’ marriage. They grew apart, having nothing in common. Her mother loved company and people, while her father wanted to stay in his study with his Latin books, or sail away to Greece. Soon her father preferred to stay in the Mediterranean than at home with his wife and young daughter. She bit her lip. People grew apart, just as sometimes the lucky ones grew into love.

“There is always David,” he said softly.

“David?”

Alex cleared his throat. “He has grown quite enamored of you. To protect you and your honor, David might be persuaded to—”

“No. I will not be bartered off…” She jumped to her feet. Her stomach clenched in protest. “It’s obvious you do not wish to marry me, so why bring it up? So you could ease your conscience by marrying me to another?”

“I didn’t say you should marry him. I merely wondered if you would prefer to marry him given your situation and the fact you did not seem keen to advise me of the situation.”

Her anger drained away. “That would not be fair to David.”

Alex’s lips firmed, but he nodded.

“He would have to know about…”

“So you would look favorably on a marriage with David?” Alex asked, his jaw taut.

“No. If I had no other choice I would, because he’s a nice man and I’d be very lucky. But I cannot make him happy.”

Alex smiled and shook his head. “You’d make any man happy.”

“I can’t make him happy and therefore I cannot marry him, because I love another.” Alex’s mouth opened and closed several times. “Don’t be so concerned. I know you do not love me. But we cannot help whom we love. Believe me, I’ve tried,” she added dryly.

“Yet I can’t make you happy either. I’m not sure I know how to love.” He looked so sad. “If the worst happens and we cannot keep you safe from Fredrick or his men, you’ll have to marry one of us.”

She rose, determined to go up on deck and try and clear the pounding in her head. “Do I have to make a decision right now?”

Alex stood too. “No. But when we reach Pentati, yes. I won’t leave you ruined. I need to face Murad knowing you are safe and protected. You will need to decide—”

“Decide what?” a voice from the entrance to the stateroom asked.

She glanced at Alex, waiting for him to respond to David’s question. She watched something pass between the two men before Alex shrugged and said, “Whether she will accept my proposal.”

She frowned at Alex. That hadn’t been their conversation. She was to choose. The tension in the room could be sliced with a dagger.

“If you’ll excuse me, I would like to get some fresh air on deck.” And without looking at either man, Hestia left the cabin.