CHAPTER NINE
“What can I do for you, Mr. Nine Lives?”
Helen threw a handful of clothes on the bed and whipped around to face him.
“You’re packing,” he stupidly said as if he was surprised by it.
“Yes, I’m packing. We’re leaving tomorrow, remember?”
“I remember.”
The tent was a mess. She’d repeatedly sifted through the mounds of lady’s garments he’d given them, figuring she’d pick out her favorites and bring them along. She was a poor woman with no income, so new clothes were a great boon. But in the end, she’d simply tossed it all in a huge pile in the corner.
He glared at it and frowned. “You’re not taking any of it?”
“No. I’m hoping to work as a housekeeper when I arrive in England. I don’t require a trunk of frilly dresses for that sort of position.”
“You can have all of it.”
“First off, we don’t have room, and second, I’m not keeping any gifts from you.”
Her remark was rude and surly and completely out of character for the person she always tried to be, but she’d reached a point where she just didn’t care. If he didn’t like her attitude, he didn’t have to stay.
A muscle ticked in his cheek, his temper flaring. “I hate seeing you in black, and you look so pretty when you wear a different color.”
“My choice of outfit is none of your business, and it particularly won’t be once I’m home. My wardrobe can hardly concern you.”
He stomped over to her, and for a shocking moment, it seemed as if he might pull her into his arms. She braced and moved away.
“You’re so upset,” he said, “but we only have a few more hours together. Let’s not spend them bickering.”
“Would you please go away? I’m very busy this morning.”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”
He appeared flummoxed, which was amusing to witness. He was so arrogant, so pretentiously certain of his place in the world. He was used to people fawning over him, and hadn’t she done just that?
She was such a fool.
“Last night,” he said, “I was having a whiskey with Robert.”
“Bully for you.”
“You walked up on us.”
Yes, she had, and she’d been pummeled by every belittling, insensitive, derogatory word he’d uttered.
She hadn’t meant to interrupt as he’d been drinking with his friend, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d been fretting over her father and the journey to England. Finally, she’d given up and had come outside to get some fresh air.
He’d been over by the fire with Mr. Stone, and she’d strolled over to join them. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder what they were discussing. And what was the old adage? An eavesdropper never hears anything good about herself.
If she’d been a shrew who liked to fight and nag, she might have initiated a loud and disagreeable quarrel, but she wasn’t a shrew, and she had no idea how to mention what had happened.
Instead, she said, “Becky just shared the most interesting tidbit.”
“What was it?”
“She claims you’re sailing to England yourself. Will Stone told her.”
He flushed with chagrin. “Oh.”
An awkward pause ensued, but he didn’t confirm or deny the news. Ultimately, she said, “Well? Are you headed to England too?”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t be bothered to escort us?”
That muscle in his cheek was ticking a tad more vehemently.
“Could we sit down for a minute?” He gestured to the table, and he went over and held out a chair for her.
“No, thank you. Just tell me what’s vexing you, then I need to finish packing.”
He plodded over to where she was loitering by the bed, and he stepped in so he was very close, but she stepped away so there was plenty of space between them.
“I know you were listening to us,” he said.
“Yes, and I’m incredibly embarrassed about it. I’m not usually so ill-mannered.”
“I might have voiced some harsh comments, and I’d like to apologize for them.”
“Why would you apologize? After all, I’m merely a lowly vicar’s daughter. I understand that.” She scoffed with derision. “With you being so grand and all, it was silly of me to imagine you viewed me in a more favorable light.”
“I think you’re wonderful,” he insisted. “I think you’re beautiful and sweet and gracious. You’re everything a man looks for in a woman.”
“I’m what most men look for,” she caustically spat. “I’m what ordinary men look for, but with you being extraordinary, I’m so far beneath you I’m amazed you can see me way down here.”
She’d been insulted frequently in her life. The past few years had been especially grueling. She couldn’t have stood by her father as his staunchest ally without having to weather all the bitterness that was leveled.
But she’d thought Nine Lives was different. She’d thought they were friends or perhaps they were more than friends.
She’d let herself dream a bit, had let herself believe they might actually wind up together. It was ludicrous, of course. She grasped that now, but it had been an eternity since she’d dreamed about anything.
The prior afternoon at the pond, he’d been eager to drag her off alone so he could address an important subject. She’d naively decided he was about to propose.
Then he’d abruptly announced that her father had left Tenerife and he was sending her home. She’d been stunned, and she’d refused to accept that he meant to part with her. It was insane behavior. She’d provided him with several openings where he could have changed his mind, but he hadn’t grabbed onto any of them.
Once she’d returned to camp, she’d assessed the interval over and over. She’d persuaded herself that he was simply a very typical male who didn’t know his own heart. He’d suffered and survived numerous ordeals, and he needed a compassionate woman by his side who would take care of him.
She was exactly who he required—as she’d demonstrated by how she’d stayed with her father through every ugly episode of scandal.
She’d assumed that, eventually, he’d see the error of his ways and realize he couldn’t live without her. But then, she’d gone out into the night and had walked over to his campfire.
As she’d lurked in the shadows, she’d been the main topic of conversation. She should have tiptoed away, but she’d always been too curious for her own good.
I can guarantee I would never stoop so low as to select a penniless spinster like Helen Barnes…I deserve better.
“I hate that you feel I was denigrating you,” he claimed.
“Don’t make this any worse than it is.”
“It’s just that I have a life approaching that can’t ever include you.”
She had some pride remaining, and she would wrap herself in it like a shroud. “You’re acting as if you supposed I’d envisioned a future with you.”
“Ah…ah…”
“I’m sure this will astonish you—you being so exalted and all—but I have a father to find. I have a sister to support and finish raising. I don’t have the energy to engage in a frivolous romance with a brigand.”
“We’re very compatible,” he said.
“We have been, but so what?”
“We grew close very fast.”
“Again, so what?”
“You haven’t had much experience with amour.”
She studied him scathingly. “I’ve had enough to discover it doesn’t interest me.”
“I might have taken advantage of you.”
“You might have?” She was so furious she could have slapped him. “If I had a father who could speak for me, you and I would be marching to the altar.”
He blew out a heavy breath. “Would you stop?”
“Stop what?”
“Stop being such a shrew. I’m trying to talk to you. I’m trying to explain myself.”
“Has it occurred to you that any explanation would be pointless?”
“No, it hasn’t. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“I presumed we were, but clearly, I was wrong.”
“You weren’t wrong. Now listen to me.”
She wasn’t about to permit him to direct the discussion. Where he was concerned, she was a complete dunce. He could spew any lie, and she’d believe it.
“Let’s get back to your heading to London,” she said.
“Fine, let’s do.”
“You’re sailing there on the Nine Lives?”
“Yes.”
“You wouldn’t take us with you. Why?”
“I just…just…”
“Don’t injure yourself while you’re jumping through hoops to rationalize your conduct. I’ve figured out what’s happening. You were happy to trifle with me on deserted beaches where there were no witnesses, but you draw the line at debarking in London, at having people observe your grand self consorting with me when I’m so common.”
“That’s not it!”
“What is it then?”
“There are secrets about my past that prevent any relationship between us.”
“Yes, you’ve been absolutely furtive. With you being so exceptional, you couldn’t trust me with any information.” She leaned in and sneered, “Not even your true name. Heaven forbid that I learn it. I might have blabbed it aloud!”
“I used to declare it everywhere I went,” he said, “but it simply brought me an enormous amount of trouble and ridicule.”
She sighed. “You’re laboring under the very misguided notion that I care about any of this. I don’t! I am a very normal female who yearns for small boons. I assumed you were fond of me.”
“I was! I am!”
“For a minute yesterday, when we were at the pond, I expected you were about to propose marriage.”
Her admission rattled him. He froze, then shook his head. “You did not.”
“I did, for you see, Nine Lives, I want what all women want. I want a husband who loves me, a home, a few children. I convinced myself that I’d made you want some of those things too. It was foolish of me. I realize that now, but imagine my surprise when your candid opinion was revealed.”
“I didn’t mean it!”
“Yes, you did! Now I am embarrassed to the marrow of my bones. Both by my stupidity and by my naïveté, and I would appreciate it if you would leave me be.”
“I’m not done telling you what I came to say.”
“That’s a problem for you then, because I’m done listening.”
“I can’t marry you, Helen. Ever. I wish I could.”
“No, you don’t!” She yelled the remark, and the outburst astounded her. She gestured to the tent flap. “I’ve never shouted at anyone in my life, so it appears you’re driving me mad with your nonsense. Would you shut up and go away? Please!”
“I’m bound to wed very high,” he continued as if she hadn’t begged him to be silent.
“Cease your drivel!” She clamped her palms over her ears to block out what he was so desperate to impart.
He stepped over and pulled her hands away. He was holding her wrists, and she yanked away so he wasn’t touching her.
“I’m a British lord,” he decreed. “I’m a lost British lord.”
“You are not,” she scoffed. “You’re a pirate and a smuggler, and I have no idea what game you’re playing, but I won’t play it with you.”
“I am a lord, a viscount—and an earl. When I suffered my accident at sea, my father was with me, and he died. He was earl before me.”
“Really?” She oozed sarcasm. “How fascinating. What is your name then? Tell me that—if you can.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me. Who are you?”
“I’m…I’m…Hayden Henley.”
“Hayden…Henley?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard of him. I daresay all of England has. You’re claiming to be Hayden Henley?”
“Yes, I swear.”
She gaped at him for an eternity, then she began to laugh, and her mirth was so great she had to stagger over to a chair and plop down. She was that overcome by hilarity.
“What’s so funny?” he snapped as she gasped for air and struggled to control her chortling.
“Hayden Henley is dead. He’s been dead for ten years. Were you hoping I wouldn’t have been apprised of his passing? You must think I’m an idiot.”
“I am Hayden Henley!” he hotly insisted.
“If you’re trying to impress me, you haven’t succeeded.”
“I am the Earl of Middlebury.”
She snorted with amusement. “I’m betting the current earl might have quite a strong opinion about that statement.”
“I am Middlebury!” he fumed. “It’s why I can’t wed you. I’ll be marrying according to my station. It hurts you to have me be so blunt, but that’s what will happen. It has nothing to do with you personally.”
She rolled her eyes. “It has everything to do with me, you annoying dolt. You simply picture yourself as being very far above me, and you’re inventing a pretext to justify your bad behavior.”
“You’re British, Helen. You know how we view these issues.”
“No, I don’t actually.” She stood and walked to the tent flap. “You’ll have to excuse me. You won’t leave, so I will. Good day to you, Lord Middlebury.” A laugh bubbled up again, and she swallowed it down. “And might I request—from now on—you call me Miss Barnes. I don’t believe we’re on familiar terms.”
Regal as any queen, she swept out and didn’t glance back.
* * * *
Hayden dawdled down the wharf from where Helen and her sister were about to climb the gangplank onto their ship. Robert had hired a carriage, then he and his son, Tom, had brought them to town. The tide would turn shortly, and they’d be away from Tenerife and on their way to England.
After their humiliating conversation, he hadn’t spoken to her again. She’d stormed out, then he’d saddled his horse and ridden off. He’d stayed away most of the night, reveling at a seedy sailor’s tavern. He’d drunk too much rum and had been entertained by the harlots who worked upstairs.
To hell with Helen Barnes! He had no idea why he’d tried to talk to her.
She’d insulted him. She’d belittled him. Most gallingly, when he’d relented and admitted who he was, she’d assumed he was playing a game with her—as if he was a confidence artist.
He was grouchy and surly, which seemed to be his constant condition since he’d met her, and he’d planned to take no notice of her departure. As Robert had loaded their traveling trunks, as the vehicle had rattled away, he’d been terribly melancholy to the point where he’d been nearly bereft.
He felt awful over their quarrel, and it had gradually dawned on him that he couldn’t let her go without his seeing her a final time. He’d dragged his hung-over self out of bed, had saddled his horse, and galloped to town. But he was hiding down the block, too much of a coward to approach and tell her goodbye as he ought.
Sailors lugged their trunks on board. Then Robert and Tom were hugging the sisters in farewell. The embraces ended, and Robert leapt into the carriage, then Tom. Becky started up the gangplank.
Helen peered up at Tom, and she said something that made him smile. As she stepped away, she stared down the wharf toward where Hayden was standing. Their gazes locked, and for a lengthy moment, they were frozen in place. The sounds of the busy port faded away, and there was just him and her and no other people in the world.
He pushed away from the wall of the tavern where he’d been leaning and loafing and watching her so keenly. He marched over to her.
She had no expression on her face so, for once, he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. Was she happy he’d come to send her off? Or would she scoff with disgust and accuse him of being an unrepentant cur?
He continued until he was directly in front of her, so close that the toes of his boots slipped under her skirt. He studied her pretty green eyes, searching them, anxious to imprint their exact color in his memory so he’d never forget.
“Hello, Mr. Nine Lives.” She grinned, ignoring what he’d told her about his name. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”
“You’re attired all in black, Miss Barnes. You look as if you’re on your way to a funeral.”
“I’m hot as a stove too.”
“You never figured out how to dress for this climate.”
“No, and I deem it a blatant indication that I don’t belong here.”
“You didn’t pack any of the clothes I gave you?”
“I considered it, but I decided I need to remember who I am, and I need to get back to the life I understand. I’m a vicar’s daughter. I wear black because—when I run my father’s home for him—it sets the proper tone.”
“I’ll miss you,” he said.
“I believe I’ll miss you too.”
“I’m glad we met.”
“I’m glad too.”
“I didn’t always show it, but I’m glad.”
“You were an interesting man for me to know.”
He snorted. “You’re being very gracious.”
“I’m always gracious.”
“Yes you are. And kind and beautiful too.”
“I’m honored that you think so.”
“I’m sorry for what I said the other night.”
She waved away the comment. “Don’t worry about it. It’s water under the bridge.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday too. I didn’t say what I really wanted to say.”
“I beg to differ. I thought you were exceedingly clear.”
“I hate that I’m such an ass.”
“Ah…you’re not so bad.”
Their banter dwindled, and they stared and stared. Then—killing him a bit—she laid a palm on his chest, right over his heart where Alex Wallace had wounded him in their duel.
“Take care of yourself,” she murmured.
“I always do.”
She tsked with amusement. “That’s not true. Be careful. Be safe.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Whatever it is you’re planning next, good luck.”
He shrugged. “I have many schemes in the works. Whether any of them will come to fruition, I’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I hope the road you travel in the future is smoother than the road you traveled in the past.”
“It couldn’t be worse.”
“I’ll fondly recall the afternoon we went swimming,” she told him. “If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget a single detail.”
“Neither will I.”
“Thank you for hunting for my father. Thank you for letting us stay with you in your camp. Thank you for sending us home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not usually nice. You’re simply a very sneaky person who has been slowly forcing me to change my ways.”
“I am sneaky,” she admitted. “From the start, I realized there was a wonderful man lurking deep inside you. I lured him to the fore.”
He dipped down and kissed her on the cheek. Then he grew brave and kissed her on the lips, just a quick brush of his to hers. She didn’t deflect his embrace, but she stepped away so he couldn’t extend it. He straightened and sighed with regret.
“Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye. I’ll always be able to brag that I once knew a genuine pirate.”
“I’ll deny I ever was one though.”
“Yes, but I can still brag about it. I’ll also be able to honestly state—my whole life long—that I never met a man quite so dashing as you.”
“And I’ll be able to honestly state that I never met a woman quite so pretty.”
“There you go, swelling my head with compliments again.”
“How will you fit it through the door to your cabin?”
“I might have to camp out on deck for the entire trip.”
She smiled at him, and he smiled too, being incredibly relieved that he’d rushed to town, that he’d spoken to her. She wasn’t angry, and apparently, he’d been forgiven. She’d arrive in London with pleasant memories.
It was the moment to move away so she could walk up the gangplank. Her sister was on board and glaring down at them, visually urging Helen to hurry. Behind him, he could sense Robert’s and Tom’s sharp attention. They were avidly observing as the scene played out, but not close enough to hear their conversation.
She pulled her hand from his chest, and suddenly, he felt as if his heart was breaking. He couldn’t bear the notion of their parting, and there was a loud voice shouting in his mind.
Don’t let her leave, you fool! Stop her!
But he’d never been particularly astute, had never listened when he should. He didn’t heed the voice, didn’t follow its strident command.
“Maybe…ah…I’ll see you in England some day,” he stupidly mumbled, sounding like an idiot.
She chuckled. “I’m certain you won’t, but I shall pray you find whatever it is you’re looking for there.”
Without another word, she spun and flitted up the gangplank. She joined her sister at the rail, and they stood together, talking, laughing, waving. He tarried on the pier, feet braced, observing as the sailors raised the plank, as a lone sail was unfurled, as the anchor was lifted.
Whistles blew, orders were bellowed, and lines cast off. A harbor crew in a long boat began to row, tugging the ship from the pier. They worked their oars vigorously and were swiftly out in deeper water. Before he knew it, the long boat was released, and the wind caught the sail, the vessel gliding past the jetty.
More sails were unfurled, the wind catching them too, the ship picking up speed. It raced away, growing smaller and smaller, and soon, he couldn’t distinguish any details.
Was Helen still there at the rail? Was she watching the island vanish in the distance? Could she still see him?
In case she could, he remained where he was until the ship disappeared beyond the horizon, and he continued to dawdle, a solitary man in the middle of the busy traffic on the wharf.
Robert called to him. “Hayden!”
He whipped around. “What?”
“Will you ride to camp with us? I’ve asked you three times already.”
“I’m fine. I have my horse.”
“Don’t mope and drink by yourself all day.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“I’ll expect you in a few hours.”
“I’ll be there.”
“If you’re not back by dark, I’ll have to come fetch you. Don’t make me.”
“I won’t.”
He wandered off and staggered into the first tavern he passed. He ordered a glass of whiskey, then thought better of it and had the bartender bring the whole bloody bottle.
Evidently, the copious amounts of alcohol he’d imbibed the previous evening wouldn’t do the trick. Not at all.