The Pirate's Secret Baby (44 page)

He went down on his knee, took her hand in both of his, and with utter seriousness and great tenderness said, "Lydia Burke, would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"

Lydia almost asked if it was the pirate or the lord proposing, but she knew the answer. It didn't matter. Regardless of how he styled himself or what title he used, he was hers.

"Yes, I will," she said, and she knew from the look in his face that the smile on hers showed what was in her heart for this man.

He rose fluidly to his feet and grasped her upper arms, his eyes ringed with blue fire as they searched her face, and then he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her, enveloping her in his passion and desire. She gave him back full measure, for she too had found an anchor, a safe harbor from her life's turmoil, a home.

"And now," he said, untying the sash from around his waist and skillfully knotting it around her wrists, "there is still the matter of my plans for the rest of this evening."

"Having been kidnapped by the notorious pirate St. Armand, I suppose any reasonable governess would submit to his every whim. As you wish." She sighed theatrically. "Have your wicked way with me, sir, for I can do nothing to stop you!"

"It's always gratifying when my cunning plans fall into place."

Lydia was pulled out of a boneless sleep by the sound of voices outside the cottage. Weak morning sun filtered through the shutters, but the bed was warm and if she stayed in it, perhaps she'd have some company to begin the day.

"Wake up, slug-a-bed! We have things to do."

She shrieked as the covers were thrown back and the cold air rushed over her naked body.

"Give that back!"

He ignored her and poured hot water into a slipper tub in front of the fireplace, whistling to himself. She looked around the room where pillows lay scattered, one leaving a trail of feathers across the floor, while scarves fluttered from the rafter. The dregs of last night's drink and dining lay on the table and when she reached up to push her disordered hair out of her eyes, there were twinges in her muscles from the previous night's activities.

Was there any better way to wake up? Maybe not, but sleeping for a few hours longer was even more attractive. Robert relentlessly pulled her off the mattress and put her in the tub, but he made up for it by shucking off his shirt and breeches and washing her lovingly, then drying her with the stack of toweling he'd left to warm in front of the fire.

"I could become accustomed to having a beautiful, naked man attend to my toilette."

"My services are greatly in demand, madam. Now we have to hurry. You don't want to be late."

"Late? Late for what?"

He pulled a towel around his waist, then opened the wardrobe. She wrapped herself in her towel and walked to the cabinet while he opened the shutters on the window.

The contents of the wardrobe glowed in the morning light. There was a dress of sapphire velvet, the lower skirt elaborately worked with double flounces of pink satin, and a low crowned bonnet festooned with ribbons and white ostrich feathers making up for years of ugly caps. A sable muff rested on a shelf and she ran her hand over it, shivering at the touch of the soft fur.

"You are creature of sensation," he whispered in her ear, coming up behind her. "You will wear this ensemble today, and think of me every time you brush your hand across the velvet covering your body, every time you look at the fur, and remember."

"Oh but, Robert! It is too fine for me! Certainly too fine for everyday wear in Ashwyn."

"Then I am glad today is not every day."

"It isn't?"

She turned and looked over her shoulder, but he only kissed her ear and said, "Come. I will be your servant this morning and dress you."

He began with her stockings, new silk stockings with clocking, stockings that smoothed up her leg to be tied with garters of wine red satin, her feet slipped into blue kid half-boots.

Of course, there were many kisses and caresses accompanying the stockings, but she tolerated it for he was so skillful with women's attire.

He'd knotted the towel at his waist, but kneeling at her feet she had a view of his sleek back, the muscles working beneath his skin and she reached down and rested her hand atop his hair, the locks gleaming in the morning light.

"I do love you, you know."

He kissed the palm of her hand, then stood and helped her to her feet. Her chemise was of finest lawn, whispering over her body, then he laced her securely into a new corset of the same satin as the garters, a foundation that plumped her breasts over the soft black lace edging the top. It was a wicked, wicked garment, fit for a pirate queen.

No one would know the scandalous garments she wore beneath the elegant velvet, but every time she breathed in she would remember, and feel.

The petticoats were followed by the magnificent dress and then she returned the favor, helping Robert into his attire. He'd brought the red coat crusted with gold braiding, so heavy she thought she'd need help lifting it, but once on him he looked so magnificent it took her breath away.

He tied his own cravat, skillfully, of course, for he was a master of tying knots. His shirt was fully fastened, and the white linen glowed against his sun-darkened skin. Her final act to garb him was to retrieve his gold sash from the bedpost and wrap it around his waist. He tucked a finger beneath her chin and raised it, giving her a soft kiss.

"All day, when I look down and see your knot in this silk, it will remind me of last night--and of thousands of nights to come. But there is one more thing you need to make your ensemble complete."

He took a slim sandalwood chest from his saddlebags and put it on the table, a chest carved with an Oriental design.

"Turn around."

She did, and dipped her head when she felt his fingers at her neck. She felt the weight on her neck, then walked to the small looking glass Fuller'd hung for shaving.

There was a strand of pearls around her neck, each one large, luscious and perfect. She gasped, and fingered them gently.

"They are beautiful! Priceless!"

"
You
are priceless. They are only an adornment for your beauty."

She turned to him, frowning. "I worry that I am being adorned with your ill-gotten gains."

"Nonsense. These were a gift from a grateful sea captain."

"A gift for you not slicing him open?" she asked tartly.

He just smiled, then reached into his coat for a smaller box. "This was my mother's."

He slid a magnificent sapphire onto her hand. The oval stone was ringed with diamonds that caught fire in the morning light and took her breath away.

"I will treasure it, Robert."

He helped her into her jacket, the one Sails made for her, and when she protested leaving the cottage in such disarray, was assured it was all arranged.

"But everyone will know--oh." She frowned. "We must marry quickly, Robert, or my reputation will be worse than yours."

"Not even on the most productive day of your life, Miss Burke, could your reputation be worse than mine. However, that too is arranged."

He escorted her outside and she pulled up her jacket's fur collar against the chill, then stared at the gig. It was decorated with ribbons and fall foliage, and the horse had some late blooming daisies tucked into its mane.

Robert turned to her, took her hand in his and kissed it.

"It is your wedding day, Lydia."

"What? How?"

"I procured a special license in London, and Mr. Castle is waiting for us at Huntley."

Her eyes narrowed as she took it all in. "You are quite sure of yourself, sir! What if I refused?"

His own face was grave. "If you refused and left me, I would take Mattie and go to sea. I could not stay here. Huntley is not a home without you by my side, Lydia. Because you said yes, you will be Lady Huntley before noon, and your reputation is secure. And," he said with his best "charming pirate" smile, "you may wish to know there's one Oriental technique I'm saving for our wedding night."

With that he picked her up and carried her to the gig before climbing in beside her and driving the short distance to the manor.

Today it was a different sight than what she'd first seen when they arrived at Huntley. The shrubbery was pruned, the windows gleamed in the morning light, and Braxton stood at the entrance, looking years younger and bushels prouder than the butler who'd greeted them that day.

"All is in readiness, my lord, Miss Burke. And may I just add how very, very glad I am for both of you--for all of us at Huntley--today."

"Thank you, Braxton," Lydia said. "It is good to--eep!"

Robert came up behind her and picked her up in his arms, carrying her over the threshold.

"That comes after the ceremony!"

"I am not taking any chances on you running away, my little hedgehog."

He continued to carry her up the stairs into the ballroom at Huntley, newly scrubbed and somewhat bare of adornment, but that didn't matter, for it was adorned with people she cared for. He set her on her feet and she looked around the room.

There was the crew of the
Prodigal
who'd stayed on land--Sails, Norton, Conroy, Paget, Turnbull--who honked noisily into a handkerchief while Nash patted his arm--and Mr. Fuller, who met her at the door and said, "I would be greatly honored if you would allow me to escort you down the aisle, lass."

"The honor would be mine, Mr. Fuller." She leaned up on her toes to kiss him on his cheek. "Thank you for taking such good care of my pirate."

He blushed, gave her a wink, and tucked her arm in his. Robert had moved down to the front of the room, pausing to pick Mattie up in his arms and give her a huge buss on the cheek. She too wore a new dress, of the same blue velvet as Lydia's, with a pink satin sash around her middle.

"See?" he said. "I told you I could convince Miss Burke to be your new mama."

"And you wore your coat! I told you she would say yes if you wore your red coat!"

Susanna Castle walked over to Lydia and pressed a bouquet of pink hydrangeas into her hands.

"From my garden," she said, "for the bride."

Lydia clutched her bouquet and looked around the room at her friends, her neighbors, even Jolly, wearing a blue bow and held on a short leash by Nellie, and waiting for her with love in their eyes, her new family.

As she took a deep breath, Mr. Fuller patted her arm, and they walked to the front of the room. She stood next to the two pirates, one large, one small, but both of whom she loved so much, and Mattie said, "Papa said I will have a
maman
in heaven and a mama here too. Does that mean I will be your own little girl now, Miss Burke?"

"You will be my little girl always and forever, Mattie. And that's a promise."

Robert set the child down and she looked up at Lydia and whispered, "I have an important job to do today, but now it's Mr. Castle's turn."

Castle laughed and said, "It is my turn indeed, child, and so I'll begin. 'Dearly beloved...'"

When it came time for the ring Mattie solemnly passed a gold band to her father, and as he slid it onto Lydia's finger and said the words the vicar told him to say, he smiled at her. There was nothing of the "dashing pirate rogue" in this smile, nothing studied or practiced or planned. It was natural, and beautiful, and lit up his face. It was the smile of love as he added his own words to that of the solemn service, "And I will love you always and forever. That's a promise."

He kissed her to the cheers of the assembled pirates, servants, friends, puppies and clergy, beginning their life together.

Had there ever been a better morning in the history of the world?

She thought not.

Darlene Marshall is an award-winning author of historical romance featuring pirates, privateers, smugglers and the occasional possum. She loves working at a job where business attire is shorts and a shirt festooned with pink flamingos and palm trees. Marshall lives in North Central Florida, a convenient location for researching sites of great historical significance, which also happen to also be at the beach and serve mojitos. Her books have been published in English, German and Estonian.

You can learn more about Darlene by visiting her website: http://darlenemarshall.com

2013 Aspen Gold Reader's Choice Award--Historicals!

After a lifetime in the Royal Navy, surgeon Alexander Murray knows one cannot exist without a brain, yet Daphne Farnham may be the exception. Her head contains nothing but rainbows, shoes, bonnets, pink frills and butterflies. Even her fluffy dog is useless. But the war with Napoleon is finally over and Alexander is sure he can put up with the cloth-headed Miss Farnham only for a couple of months until they reach England.

Did that naval officer have his sense of humor surgically removed? It is bad enough Alexander has no fashion sensibilities, never smiles at Daphne like other men do and doesn't adore her darling pup Pompom. He had the gall to proclaim her "useless" when everyone knows it's Daphne who's the best at picking out just the right ensemble for any social occasion. Fortunately, she has to put up with the sour Scotsman only for a couple of months until they reach England.

But when their ship goes down, the dour doctor (after a fashion), the dizzy damsel (more or less) and the darling (and potentially delicious) doggy are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime as unlikely companions, castaway on a desert island. One of them may have fleas, but it's the two humans who will find themselves wanting to scratch a certain itch.