Authors: Virginia Brown
Capture The Wind
“You needn’t assume that I am not well aware of my situation here, Captain. I have managed to fall victim to pirates—any woman’s worst nightmare. Do not deceive yourself, sir. I am properly terrified.”
Saber seemed faintly startled by her tart rebuttal and stared at her for a long, tense moment. The ship creaked and groaned, rising and falling in a ceaseless motion that might have made Angela queasy if she’d allowed herself to dwell on it. Instead, she focused on Saber’s narrowed blue eyes and contemplative scowl. Finally he gave a harsh bark of laughter.
“I came down here to terrorize you into submission. I did not expect such easy capitulation.”
“How dismaying for you. Should I put up a defiant front to assuage your disappointment?”
“It would salvage some of my pride,” he said wryly, and moved to lean back against the edge of his desk. Still gazing at her, he raked a hand through the dark strands of his hair. “Most females would be swooning in despair by this time. How have I failed?”
“As I pointed out to you—you have not failed. It’s just that I am too terrified to swoon. Pray, forgive me.”
“Bloody hell,” he commented, and pushed away from the desk. “You’re a cool one, Miss Angela. I’ll give you that much.”
“Emily and I cannot decide if you are monster or myth. We have heard so many stories that it is hard to separate fact from fiction. Are you what they say you are, Captain Saber?”
A slight smile tilted his mouth up at one corner. “And what do they say I am, Miss Angela? Murderer? I’ve killed men, though I can’t say I’ve derived any satisfaction from it. Pirate? Quite true. Though at times, I’ve stolen things that belong to me, so I’m not quite certain what that does to my redoubtable reputation as a thief and scourge of the seven seas.”
He took a step closer, his voice lowering to a husky timbre that sent chills chasing down her spine. One hand lifted to caress her cheek, then slid around to cup her neck in his palm. His fingers gently massaged her nape, and the breath caught in her throat at his ministrations. He smiled.
“What was it your Miss Emily spouted last night? That I am known as—let me see—a
defiler of damsels?
As for that reputation, I gladly plead
. . .
” His hand shifted, fingers tightening in her hair to draw her head back. Angela’s throat closed, and her heart beat so fast and hard she was certain he could hear it. Saber’s voice was a husky whisper when he finished, “. . . guilty. I plead guilty, Miss Angela.”
Virginia Brown is the author of more than 50 novels in romance, mystery and general fiction. Bell Bridge Books is proud to publish these Virginia Brown titles.
The Dixie Diva Mysteries
Dixie Divas
Drop Dead Divas
Dixie Diva Blues
Divas And Dead Rebels
The Blue Suede Memphis Mysteries
Hound Dog Blues
Harley Rushes In
Suspicious Mimes
Mystery/Drama
Dark River Road
Historical Romance
Comanche Moon * Capture the Wind
Savage Awakening * Defy The Thunder
Storm of Passion * Wild Heart
Legacy of Shadows * Moonflower
Desert Dreams * Heaven Sent
Wildfire * Renegade Embrace
Emerald Nights * Hidden Touch
Wildflower * Wildest Heart
Jade Moon * Highland Hearts
by
Virginia Brown
Bell Bridge Books
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-226-2
Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-211-8
Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.
Copyright © 1994 by Virginia Brown
Printed and bound in the United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
A mass market edition of this book was published by Zebra in 1994
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Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo credits:
Ship (manipulated) © Franciscah | Dreamstime.com
Man (manipulated) © Yuri Arcurs | Dreamstime.com
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To Laura Austin, one of the most important and appreciated people in my life. Thank you, Laura—I’d be lost without you.
And to Frances Teague, who has proven the value of a real friend. You’re the best, Fran.
London Docks, 1788
“Is that the ship, Charles?”
Elaine Davenport indicated a vessel docking at the Pool below London Bridge. Wind thick with the smell of foul water and rotting wood dislodged strands of her pale hair. Her gloved hand tucked the strays back into place, then pressed a scented handkerchief of Belgian lace to her nose. Her words were muffled. “I don’t see a dark-haired child among those along the ship’s rail.”
David Charles Edward Sheridan, Fourth Duke of Tremayne and heir to the fortunes of Sheridan Shipping, frowned at the ship nosing into its berth against the broad stone quay. There was the sharp, sour smell of refuse and fish. A forest of masts swayed in the river: huge East Indiamen, galliots, whalers, and tea clippers. Raucous sea birds swooped and circled above quays teeming with activity.
Charles shrugged. “I don’t see him either. Frankly, it’s been so long, I might not recognize him. Ten years, you know. I suppose he’s no longer a small child, as in the miniatures I’ve shown you. Christian would be
. . .
oh, he would be nearly seventeen now” Charles shook his head. “The time has passed so swiftly. Plainly, we should be looking for a youth instead of a small boy.”
Elaine glanced around the dock. Her fingers curled around Charles’s arm, and she murmured disdainfully, “Such riffraff gather here on the docks. It would have been much better to have waited for Filbert to bring him to the house, as I tried to tell you
. . .
”
Charles shot her a frown. “I was quite anxious to see him and did not wish to wait. He’s been gone so long, and with pirates, for the love of God—I want to see for myself that Christian is all right.”
“Yes, so you said.” Elaine released his arm to smooth a hand over the folds of her immaculate brocade skirt. “Well, I’m certain that once we are wed, I can help you eradicate some of the taint that stains his character. Imagine. It took four of Sir Ramsey’s men to coax him off that ship. Pirates. Dear Lord, and he’s been living among them since
. . .
”
She halted when Charles gave her a pained glance. It had taken him some time to accept his wife’s death and his small son’s disappearance. Now that Christian was finally coming home, his betrothed’s reminder of those painful years was a sharp jab. Elaine leaned close.
“If I’ve provoked uncomfortable memories, I apologize. It’s just that I am so distressed for what you must have suffered.”
Charles’s stare was level. “You should be more distressed for what poor Christian has suffered. To be kept in the care of pirates sailing the Spanish Main cannot have been pleasant. There is absolutely no way of knowing what he has been through in that time. Sir Ramsey’s letter mentioned that Christian was rather surly and distrustful.”
“Yes, I can imagine.” Elaine patted an offending curl of blond hair back into place and frowned daintily. “Still, it will take time and a great deal of discipline to remove the stain of years of piracy from the boy. You will have your hands full. Fortunately, my father has recommended an excellent school. It has only the best tutors for his education, and is known for the severity of its discipline when it comes to unruly, disobedient boys. I am certain it will do Christian a great deal of good to have the discipline he has certainly lacked in these past ten years.”
“Unruly?” Charles shook his head. “Not Christian. He was always timid to the point of annoyance. Scared of his own shadow. I cannot imagine how he survived all those years with pirates.”
“Can’t you? I should think
. . .
”
Charles tensed. “Look. The ship is lowering its ramp.”
Elaine’s reply faded into the rising hubbub around them as Charles strained to catch the first sight of his son. Dray wagons rumbled by loudly, wheels clattering over rough stones. Long brick warehouses stretched behind the quays, and stacks of cargo waiting to be loaded rose like small buildings. Charles shifted impatiently, staring past Elaine to the lowered ramp nudging the stone quay. He frowned.
“Where the devil could he be? I was certain Filbert would be right at the rail with him, knowing how I’ve longed for this day.”
Elaine tugged at the sleeve of his frock coat with a decisive note of censure in her tone. “Do not appear overeager, Charles. It’s unseemly in public.”
He turned, brows lifting. “Unseemly? To want to see my son after so long? You overstep your boundaries, Elaine.”
His reproof had the desired effect; she looked down, dark lashes lowering over remarkable green eyes. The soft bottom lip that so many men had gazed at with longing began to quiver slightly. Charles’s voice softened.
“I appreciate your desire for proper etiquette, but I cannot think of a previous example for a man’s son being returned to him after long years aboard a pirate ship in the Caribbean. There are no proper rules in this instance, I believe.”