"The Passion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Nicole)

PART I Bonds of Desire

Chapter One

British West Indies, February 1813

The scene was pagan-the half nude man bound in chains, his sinewed torso bronzed by the Caribbean sun. Silhouetted against the ship's tall masts, he stood defiant, unbowed.

For a brief instant Lady Aurora Demming felt her heart falter as she stared up at the frigate's railing.

He might have been a statue carved by a master sculptor, all rippling muscle and lithe strength… except that he was flesh-and-blood male, and very much alive. Sunlight warmed the hard contours of his body, gilded the dark gold of his hair.

That tawny shade of gold was heart familiar. At first glance Aurora had flinched with the memory of another face forever lost to her. But this brazen, nearly naked man was a stranger, possessing a raw masculinity quite unlike her late betrothed.

He was stripped down to breeches, but though he wore the chains of a prisoner, he remained unbroken, his gaze fierce and remote as he stared out over the quay. Even from a distance, his eyes seemed to glitter dangerously, giving the impression of simmering anger tenuously controlled.

As if he felt her gaze, his focus slowly shifted and locked on her, riveting her in place. The bustle and noise of the waterfront faded away. For a fleeting moment, time ceased and only the two of them existed.

The intensity of his stare held her motionless, yet Aurora felt herself tremble, her heart suddenly drumming in a painful, almost wild rhythm.

"Aurora?"

She gave a start as her cousin Percy recalled her to her surroundings. She stood on the harbor quayside of Basseterre, St. Kitts, before the shipping office, the warm Caribbean sun beating down upon her. The pungent smells of fish and tar permeated the salt air along with the raucous cries of seagulls. Beyond the busy quay stretched brilliant blue-green waters, while in the distance rose the lush, mountainous island of Nevis.

Her cousin followed the direction of her gaze to the prisoner on the naval frigate. "What has you so fascinated?"

"That man…" she murmured. "For a moment he reminded me of Geoffrey."

Percy squinted across the quay. "How can you possibly tell at this distance?" He frowned. "The hair color is similar, perhaps, but any other resemblance must be superficial. I couldn't imagine the late Earl of March as a convict, could you?"

"I don't suppose so."

Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from the fair-haired prisoner. Nor could he from her, it seemed. He still watched her as he stood at the head of the gangway, prepared to disembark. His hands manacled, he was guarded by two armed, burly seamen of the British navy, but he gave no notice of his captors until one jerked viciously on the chain that bound his wrists.

Pain or fury made his fists clench, but he offered no other sign of struggle as he was herded at musketpoint down the gangway.

Once more Aurora heard her name called, this time more firmly.

Her cousin touched her arm, his look full of sympathy. "Geoffrey is gone, Aurora. It will do you no good to dwell on your loss. And your grief can only prove detrimental to your upcoming marriage. I'm certain your future husband will not appreciate your mourning another man. For your own sake, you must learn to quell your feelings."

She had not been thinking of her loss, she was ashamed to admit, or the unwanted marriage her father was forcing upon her, but she nodded for her cousin's benefit. She had no business showing an interest in a barely dressed stranger. A criminal, no less. One who evidently had committed some heinous crime to warrant such savage punishment.

With a small shudder, Aurora forced her attention away. The primitive display was no sight for a lady, much less a duke's daughter. She had rarely seen so much naked male flesh at one time. Certainly she'd never been shaken by a man, as she had been moments ago when he caught her eye.

Chastising herself, she turned to allow her cousin to hand her into the open carriage. She'd come to the docks with Percy to confirm her passage to England. Because of the conflict with America and the danger of piracy, there were few ships leaving the West Indies. The next passenger vessel was scheduled to depart the island of St. Kitts three days hence and was only waiting for a military escort.

She dreaded returning home and had delayed as long as she dared, months longer than originally planned, using the excuse that travel was dangerous while a war raged. But her father was adamant that she present herself at once to prepare for her wedding to the nobleman he'd chosen for her. In his last letter he'd threatened to come and fetch her himself if she failed to honor the agreement he had made on her behalf.

Aurora had one foot on the carriage step when a disturbance across the quay made her pause. The prisoner had reached the end of the gangway and was being harangued to climb into a waiting wagon, obviously a difficult task because of his chains.

When he moved too slowly, he was given a savage shove that sent him stumbling almost to his knees. Saving himself by clutching the wagon's rear gate, he drew himself up and turned to eye his guard with a contemptuous stare.

His cool insolence seemed to infuriate his tormentors for he received a musket butt to the ribs, which doubled him over in pain.

Aurora's cry of protest at the vicious attack lodged in her throat when the prisoner swung his chains at the guard. It was a futile gesture of defiance, for he was bound too tightly to effect any real damage, but apparently his rebellion was the excuse his guards wanted.

Both seamen set upon him with the stocks of their muskets, driving him to the cobblestones with cries of "Scurvy dog!" and "Bastard sea scum!"

Aurora recoiled in horror at seeing someone treated so viciously, without mercy. "For pity's sake…" she murmured hoarsely. "Make them stop, Percy!"

"It is a naval matter," her cousin replied in a grim tone, speaking in his role as lieutenant governor of St. Kitts. "I have no justification for interfering."

"Dear God, they'll beat him to death…" Without waiting for a reply, she picked up her skirts and ran toward the commotion.

"Aurora!" She heard Percy curse under his breath, but she never slowed her steps nor paused to consider the danger or the madness of intervening in the violent dispute.

She had no weapon at hand and no clear plan beyond attempting a rescue, but when she reached the guards, she swung her reticule at the nearest assailant and managed to hit the side of his face.

"What the 'ell…?"

When the startled seaman flinched at the unexpected attack, Aurora left off her flailing and pushed her way between the fallen prisoner and his assailants. Hiding her own fear, she sank to her knees, half covering the nearly unconscious man with her own body to shield him from being struck again.

The guard swore a vulgar oath.

Coldly furious, Aurora lifted her chin and stared up at him, silently daring him to strike her.

"Ma'am, ye've no business ‘ere," he declared angrily. "This man is a vicious pirate."

"You, sir, may address me as my lady," she replied, her normally serene voice almost fierce as she called upon the power of her rank. "My father is the Duke of Eversley and claims the Prince Regent and the Lord High Admiral among his close acquaintances." She could see the sailor assessing her and her attire; her fashionable silk bonnet and walking dress were the gray of half mourning, with only a touch of lilac trim on the lapels of the spencer to relieve the severity.

"And this gentleman," she added as Percy hurriedly reached her side, "is my cousin, Sir Percy Osborne, who happens to be lieutenant governor of Nevis and St. Kitts. I would think twice before challenging him."

Percy's jaw tightened at her declaration, and he murmured in disapproval, "Aurora, this is quite unseemly. You're causing a spectacle."

"It would be more unseemly to stand by while these cowards murder an unarmed man."

Ignoring the guard's glare, she glanced down at the injured prisoner. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to be conscious, for his jaw was clenched in pain. He still looked half savage-his skin glistening with sweat and blood, a growth of dark stubble shadowing his jaw.

His head seemed to have suffered the worst damage. Not only was his temple bleeding profusely, but his sun-streaked hair, a much darker gold than her own, was matted black with dried blood, evidently from an earlier injury.

Aurora tensed as her gaze dropped lower, yet even so, she felt her heartbeat quicken. The raw masculinity that had unnerved her at a distance was even more obvious this close, the sinewy hardness of his body unmistakable. His sun-bronzed chest and shoulders rippled with muscle, while the canvas breeches hugged his powerful thighs.

Then he opened his eyes and fixed them on her. His gaze was dark, the rich hue of coffee flecked with amber. His intent stare gave her the same jolting sensation she'd felt earlier: the feeling of being totally alone with him, along with a keen awareness of her femininity.

Nearly as strange were the tender feelings of protectiveness his injuries engendered. Gently Aurora reached up to wipe the smear of blood from his forehead.

Chains jangling, he grasped her wrist. "Don't," he muttered hoarsely. "Stay out of this… you'll be hurt."

Her skin burned where his fingers touched, but she tried to ignore the sensation, just as she disregarded his entreaty. At the moment she was less interested in protecting herself than in saving his life. "You don't expect me to watch your murder, do you?"

The pained smile he gave her was fleeting as he released her wrist and struggled to push himself up on his elbows. For a moment he dizzily shut his eyes.

"You need a doctor," Aurora said in alarm.

"No… I have a hard head."

"Obviously not hard enough."

She had forgotten they weren't alone, until her cousin leaned over her shoulder and gave an exclamation of dismay. "Good God… Sabine!"

"You know him?" Aurora asked.

"Indeed, I do. He owns half the merchant ships in the Caribbean. He's an American… Nick, what the devil are you doing here?"

He grimaced in pain. "An unfortunate encounter with the British navy, I fear."

Aurora realized his speech was much softer and flatter than her own clipped sounds as her cousin turned to the guards and demanded an explanation.

"What is the meaning of this? Why is this man in chains?"

The guards were spared having to reply when their commanding officer joined them. Aurora remembered having met Captain Richard Gerrod at some polite government function a few weeks before.

"I can answer that, your excellency," Gerrod said coolly. "He is bound in chains because he is a prisoner of war, condemned to be hanged for piracy and murder."

"Murder, captain? That is frankly absurd. You must have heard of Nicholas Sabine," Percy insisted, pronouncing the American's name Sahbean. "He is a hero in these parts, not a murderer. Obviously you have mistaken his identity."

"I assure you I have mistaken nothing. He was recognized by one of my officers on Montserrat, where he was reckless and arrogant enough to visit a woman in the midst of a war. He most certainly is the notorious pirate Captain Saber. Not only has he commandeered at least two British merchantmen since the war began, but he sank the HMS Barton just last month."

"It was my understanding," said Percy, "that the Barton's crew was saved from drowning by that same pirate and deposited on the nearest isle."

"Yes, but a seaman died in that engagement and several more were injured. And Sabine nearly killed one of my crew yesterday while resisting arrest. He has indeed committed acts of war against the Crown, Sir Percy. Acts punishable by death."

Percy turned to the fallen man. "Is this true, Sabine? You're a pirate?"

Sabine's half smile held cold anger. "In America we use the term privateer, and we've never yielded the right to protect our own ships. The Barton was attacking one of my merchantmen and I intervened. As for commandeering your vessels, I considered it a fair exchange for the loss of two of my own."

Aurora wasn't as horrified as perhaps she should have been at the accusation of piracy. With their two countries at war, Britain considered any armed American ship culpable. And Sabine should indeed have a right to defend his own ships. She knew her cousin would agree. Though such political beliefs were disloyal to the Crown, Percy considered the war a mistake and Britain primarily at fault for instigating it. The charge of murder, however, disturbed her greatly…

"Pirate or not," Percy said to the captain, obviously troubled, "there will be ramifications for taking this man prisoner. Are you aware Mr. Sabine has any number of connections to the Crown? Including several island governors as well as the commander of the Caribbean fleet?"

The captain scowled. "His connections are all that stopped me from hanging him out of hand. But I doubt that will save him. When Admiral Foley learns of his crimes, I'm certain the order will be given to execute him." Grimly Captain Gerrod looked down at Aurora. "My lady, you would do best to keep away. He is a dangerous man."

She suspected the American was indeed dangerous, but that hardly justified the guards' vicious brutality.

"Oh, indeed," she said scornfully, rising to face the captain from her full height. "So dangerous your crew must beat him senseless, even with him trussed up like a Christmas goose. I quite fear for my life."

Gerrod's lips tightened in anger, but Percy quickly intervened.

"What do you intend to do with him, Captain?"

"He'll be turned over to the garrison commander and imprisoned in the fortress until he can be executed."

Aurora felt her heart clench at the thought of this vital man losing his life. "Percy…" she implored, gazing at him.

"I'll thank you, excellency," Gerrod said darkly, "not to interfere with the performance of my duty. Get to your feet, pirate."

Sabine's lip curled, his simmering hatred of the captain evident in the blistering heat of his dark eyes. But his fury remained tightly controlled as he struggled to his knees.

Aurora helped him stand, lending support when he swayed, and felt her pulse quicken as his hard body momentarily leaned against her. Even bruised and bloodied, the overwhelming maleness of him affected her.

Her cousin must have been reminded of the impropriety, for Percy gently grasped her arm and drew her away. "Come, my dear."

Obviously stiff with pain, Sabine moved toward the wagon. Aurora flinched when she saw the bloody lacerations marring his broad shoulders and muscular back, and again when one of the burly guards grasped his arm and urged him into the wagon.

Helpless, Aurora bit her lip to keep from crying out in protest.

Captain Gerrod gave her a stern glance as both guards climbed in after the prisoner, but he addressed her cousin. "I hadn't planned on escorting the prisoner to the fortress- I should be preparing my frigate to sail for the American seacoast to join the naval blockade. But I see I must, to ensure my orders are carried out to the letter."

"I intend to visit the fortress myself," Aurora threatened rashly, fearing what they would do to their prisoner once they were alone. "If you dare beat him further, I promise you will regret it."

She felt her cousin's fingers tighten on her arm in warning and barely refrained from shaking off his grasp.

The captain gave a stiff, angry bow, and then climbed into the front passenger seat and ordered the elderly black driver to drive on. Aurora and Percy watched as the pair of draft horses drew the wagon away.

"You will not involve yourself further, Aurora," Percy muttered under his breath.

Stubbornly she freed her arm from his tight grip. "You don't condone such vicious treatment, I'm sure of it. If Mr. Sabine were an English prisoner in American hands, you would expect him to be dealt with humanely."

"Of course I would."

"What will happen to him?" she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

Percy didn't respond at once, which confirmed her worst fears.

"Surely there will be a trial," Aurora protested. "They wouldn't hang someone of his consequence at once, would they?"

"It may not come to hanging," her cousin answered grimly. "The admiral might very well show leniency."

"And if not? Can you intervene?"

"I have the authority to overrule an admiral's commands, but doing so would perhaps mean the end of my political career. My views on the war are frowned upon as it is. And setting free a condemned prisoner would likely be considered treason. Piracy and murder are grave charges, my dear."

Aurora gazed back at Percy bleakly. "You must at least send a doctor to see to his injuries."

"Of course. I'll speak to the garrison commander myself and see that Sabine receives proper medical care."

She stared into his blue eyes that were so much like her own and could read the concern there-as well as the comment he didn't voice.

What did it matter if Nicholas Sabine's wounds were treated if he shortly was to hang?

Percy's wife was alarmed by the bloody condition of Aurora's gown, but less appalled by the reason than might be expected.

"I don't know that I would have had the courage to intervene," Jane said thoughtfully when she'd heard the tale.

The two women were alone in Aurora's bedchamber. After Percy had escorted her to his plantation home and then left to fulfill his promise regarding the prisoner's medical treatment, Aurora's maid had helped her change her gown and then took it away for cleaning. Lady Osborne remained to get a more detailed, private accounting of the morning's events.

"I don't think it particularly courageous to stop a man from being beaten to death," Aurora retorted, still outraged by the morning's incident. "And my intervention seems to have done little to change his fate."

"Mr. Sabine has prominent family in England," Jane said more soothingly. "The Earl of Wycliff is his second cousin. Besides possessing enormous wealth, Wycliff has always commanded a great deal of power in government circles. He could very well intercede on his cousin's behalf."

"They may hang him long before news of his imprisonment reaches England," Aurora replied darkly.

"Aurora, you haven't developed a tendre for Sabine, have you?"

She felt herself flush. "How could I? I met the man only this morning, and just for a moment. We were not even formally introduced."

"Good. Because frankly he isn't at all a proper sort of gentleman, despite his connections. Indeed, I suspect he is rather dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"To our sex, I mean. He's an adventurer and something of a rake-and an American, besides."

"Percy called him a hero."

"I suppose he is. He saved the lives of some two hundred planters during a slave revolt on St. Lucia a few years ago. But that hardly makes him acceptable. Common gossip says he is the black sheep of his family who spent his adulthood traveling alien lands and engaging in any manner of wild exploits. Only after his father died did he become the least respectable-and only because he inherited a fortune and took over the family business interests."

"You haven't accused him of being much worse than half the wild young bucks in England."

"He is indisputably worse, I assure you. Otherwise he would never have been accorded membership in the notorious Hellfire League, despite being sponsored by his cousin, Lord Wycliff."

The Hellfire League, Aurora knew, was an exclusive club of the premier rakes in England, dedicated to pleasure and debauchery. If Sabine was a member of that licentious association, he was indeed wicked.

"And you cannot dismiss the fact," Jane added pointedly, "that he is a condemned pirate, with blood on his hands."

Aurora looked down at her own hands. One of her dearest friends, Jane was both attentive and shrewd enough to evaluate a situation objectively – attributes that made her an ideal politician's wife. Percy quite rightly adored her, a sentiment that was wholly reciprocated.

"Aurora," Jane said, "is it possible you've become absorbed with this man to escape your own concerns? Perhaps you are trying to ignore your own plight by involving yourself with a stranger's fate."

Aurora laced her fingers tightly together. Quite possibly her sympathy for Sabine was greater because of her own difficult situation. She could identify with him; she knew what it was like to be powerless to effect her own future, to have her life not be her own. He was at the mercy of his captors, while she was subject to her father's dictates – and was soon to be ensnared in a supremely distasteful marriage.

Jane must have read the truth in her expression, for she said gently, "You have more important worries than a pirate's fortunes. You would do far better to forget this incident entirely." She rose to her feet with a soft swish of silk skirts. "Come down to luncheon when you are ready. You'll feel better when you've eaten, I daresay."

Aurora, however, did not feel better, nor did she have any appetite. She merely toyed with her food as she anxiously awaited word from her cousin.

When the message did finally come from his offices in Basseterre, Percy's note said little other than to reassure her that he'd spoken to the garrison commander, who promised to have the fortress physician examine the prisoner's injuries.

Aurora shared the note with Jane and pretended to dismiss any further thought of the matter. A short while later she excused herself, claiming she needed to contemplate her packing for her return to England. But she made absolutely no headway. Instead she found herself staring down at the floor, remembering a pair of dark eyes gazing at her intently, and the trembling way it had made her feel -

For mercy's sake, stop thinking of him, Aurora scolded herself.

Logically she agreed with Jane. It was far wiser to put the notorious pirate out of her mind. She would be leaving St. Kitts in a matter of days. And she had her own serious troubles to deal with – namely her imminent engagement to a domineering nobleman some twenty years her senior. A man she not only didn't love but actively disliked for his imperious, overbearing manner and his strict, almost puritanical adherence to convention. A public announcement of the betrothal would be made upon her return to England.

For a moment Aurora felt the same jolt of panic the thought of her impending marriage always engendered. Once they were wed, she would be a virtual prisoner to decorum, indeed would be fortunate to be permitted even an original thought of her own. But as she'd done for months, she forced her disquiet away.

Abandoning the notion of planning for her voyage, she picked up a book of poetry. But when she tried to read, she was unable to focus on the page. Instead she saw the blood-stained features of Nicholas Sabine as he lay helpless at her feet, half naked and in chains. When she tried to push him out of her mind, she failed miserably.

She didn't have to close her eyes to picture him lying in a prison cell, wounded and in pain, perhaps even near death. Would he even have a blanket to cover his near nakedness? Despite the warmth of the Caribbean sun, it was still winter. The brisk ocean breezes blowing off the Atlantic side of the island could make the nights quite chilly. And Brimstone Hill Fortress, where he had been taken, was perched high on a cliff, exposed to the elements.

More alarming, a condemned prisoner could disappear forever in the vast, sprawling warren of dark chambers and narrow passageways of the fortress. Its massive citadel was defended by seven-foot-thick walls of black volcanic stone that had taken decades to construct.

She'd once attended a military reception at Brimstone Hill with Percy and Jane and found even the officers' quarters unwelcoming. She shuddered to think what the prisoners' accommodations were like.

It was no consolation to remind herself that she'd done all she could for him. No use arguing with herself and demanding that she be sensible. She had never been able to walk away from anyone in such a vulnerable position.

The past years would have been easier had she been capable of simply ignoring her conscience, of controlling her protective urges. If she could have maintained a proper detachment when her father vented his wrath on his hapless dependents. But she could never be so unfeeling.

And now all she could think of was Nicholas Sabine, vulnerable and helpless, at the mercy of his brutal captors.

Perhaps if she paid him a brief visit, just to make certain he was being cared for, she would be able to ease her mind enough to forget him…

Feeling her anxiety lessen for the first time since the disturbing incident on the quay, Aurora quietly set down her book. Her heart took up an erratic rhythm at the prospect of seeing the American again, yet she repressed the forbidden feelings as she went to the bell pull to ring for her maid.

She would be defying propriety with a vengeance, perhaps even risking scandal, to visit a condemned pirate in prison, yet this could well be one of the last acts of independence she would ever make.