The Infamous Rogue Part 40

James grabbed her arms. He dragged her against his hard muscles. He inhaled the rich, citrus scent of her soapy flesh, and curled his fingers through her wild tresses. "You wretched witch." He hugged her tight. "I loved you more than breath. There was no woman in the world I wanted more."

"Liar."

He pressed his thumb against her cursed lips. "d.a.m.n you, Sophia."

"You didn't even want me to meet your sister," she said, words wobbling. "You were ashamed of me. You are still ashamed of me."

"Never." He delved deep into her lucid and bewitching eyes. "I was never ashamed of you, Sophia. Hel , I'm the son of a pirate. Do you think me such a hypocrite? But a man doesn't talk about such things with his sister, especially his innocent sister. And she was innocent then."

She struggled in his arms. "Then why didn't you marry me?"

"I didn't want you to depend on me."

She stilled. "What?"

James closed his eyes. The woman's warm breath bathed his features, quieted the haunting reflections that always hounded him.

He had headed the family since boyhood, but his mother had suffered great hardship during the twelve years his father was away. Drake's return had allowed James a respite from constant duty and obligation, but soon thereafter his mother had died, and once more James was thrust into the position of parent and guardian.

He had always fulfilled the role of either mother or father. And he had failed at both.

Mother had toiled in wretched poverty for years without surcease or comfort from him, for he had burdened her with his basic needs for food and shelter and attention. And he had failed to inspire his own brothers with a sense of loyalty and respect, for the men had deserted him, too.

"I didn't want another family to look after." He opened his eyes and twisted his fingers deeper into her hair. "I didn't want you to depend on me for all your needs...and be disappointed."

"I don't need you to take care of me."

"I know." He snorted. "Why do you think I was so attracted to you? You didn't need me. If I'd died in a fiery raid at sea, you would've been fine. You were strong. You had nursed your father. You had wits and will. Money. There was nothing more I could give you."

"Except yourself."

"Yes," he said softly. "Except that."

"And yet you didn't give me that, James." She pushed him away. "That was the one thing in the world I wanted from you...and you didn't share it with me." She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes cold. "I had a chance to become a respectable wife, a countess.

No one would've ridiculed me ever again. And I gave it all away for you...for nothing."

She shuddered, breathless.

"Sophia-"

"Good-bye, James."

Chapter 23.

J ames swigged the sweet rum.

Slowly he set the empty gla.s.s on the scuffed tabletop and signaled for a buxom barmaid to bring him another drink.

He was ensconced in a shadowy corner of the seaside pub. It afforded him an opportunity to observe the rowdy fishermen in an un.o.btrusive way as he awaited the pirate impostor, Hagley.

"Here ye are, sweetheart."

James bristled at the familiar endearment as the c.o.c.kney-tongued wench set another gla.s.s on the table and rubbed his hand. It was a flat and worthless invitation, leaving him feeling cold.

"Anythin' else?"

He offered her a coin for the rum. "No."

She shrugged and skirted off.

James was numb. Not from the spirits. The drink was just a ruse. He had to make it look like he belonged inside the pub, hence the second, and last, gla.s.s of rum. He needed to keep his faculties sharp, to take down the miscreants with a clear, quick mind. But he was insensible to the rest of the world, especially his brothers.

James glanced across the crowded, hazy, and boisterous room. The lieutenant was seated at another table with Edmund and Quincy. James had said very little to his brothers over the past few days, their rapport awkward. This would be their final mission together before they parted ways for good. It was a bitter moment, knowing he wouldn't have his kin at his back anymore...or Sophia at his side.

James stared at the gla.s.s, stroking the cold, moist surface with his thumb. She had stormed from the castle for London, the harridan in tow, soon after their last heated exchange. He was still bemused, the woman's revelations ringing in his head. Seven years ago, she had wanted to wed him to be a respectable wife. Three days ago, she had wanted to wed him to be...just a wife. His wife. She had wanted him. Him! He had thought her heartless. But she had cared. She had cared for him. And the truth of it washed away the years of former misery...and yet the deeper truth compounded the fresh despair. She had cared for him. He had lost her again.

"Captain Hawkins?"

James smothered the fiery wound in his heart, as he had so many times in the past. He glanced at the burly figure towering above the gloomy table. "Are you Hagley?"

"I am."

James perused the dastardly knave in detail. He was fair, with a suave manner and a deep, rumbling voice, which James suspected was induced to make him sound more formidable. Bulky, but not as big as James, he had no other characteristics to suggest he was the notorious pirate leader Black Hawk. The impostor had unjustly seized his rightful t.i.tle. And to make matters even more deplorable, he wasn't doing the epithet justice.

James scowled. "Have a seat." He then knocked the gla.s.s on the table. Once. Twice.

The informal gesture signaled to his brothers, and a dozen other tars from the Bonny Meg's crew, scattered throughout the pub, that the target had arrived.

Hagley stroked his curly brown locks. "I understand you're interested in doing business."

James still glared at the charlatan, who had caused him so much vexation, and restrained the whim to snap the blackguard's neck in full public view.

"Yes, I'm looking for a partner."

"Oh?" said the scoundrel.

"There's trouble at sea. Perhaps you've read the account in the papers?"

"The account?"

James downed the rum and wiped his mouth before he slammed the empty gla.s.s against the wood surface. "About pirates."

There was a flicker of trepidation in the scalawag's eyes before he composed his features and returned coolly, "Pirates, you say?"

Hagley's bravado was admirable, but James wasn't at the pub to make friends with the devil-but to crush him.

"Yes, I was nearly robbed of cargo a fortnight ago. I'd like to take on a partner, divide shipments in the future."

Hagley stroked his chin. "Ah, strength in numbers."

"That's right." James glowered. "Shall we find a more quiet setting to discuss the matter further?"

"I don't think so...Black Hawk."

James hardened. "What did you call me?"

"I'm honored, truly. It's a real pleasure to meet the notorious pirate captain. I thought you dead. Why did you give up piracy?"

The man's bravado wasn't bravado at al . James looked across the room. The patrons merrily drowned in ale and frolicked with wenches. He spotted his crew, still positioned at random tables throughout the pub, surrounding him. He had their support, but he sensed it inadequate. Hagley had far greater numbers skulking out of sight, he was sure.

"Well, I've enjoyed being you these last few months." Hagley grinned. "Quarry is so much more accommodating with their jewels and other valuables after I announce my- er, your name." He sighed. "I'll miss the notoriety, the respect. But I suppose it's time I step down from the t.i.tle...and let the real Black Hawk have it back."

James fisted his palms. "Black Hawk is dead."

Hagley lifted from the chair and winked. "Aye, he very soon wil be."

The room suddenly swelled with brutes.

"You see, I suspected it might be you hounding me," expounded the miscreant. "And I sent word to the authorities, informing them about the real Black Hawk's whereabouts. I can't have you-or them-on my tail forever."

The brutes approached. James eyed his brothers, the men already on their feet and reaching for their concealed weapons, and with a plain, sharp look ordered them all to stand down and not engage the advancing Bow Street Runners. Right now it was only James the authorities targeted. If the rest of the men remained quiet, they would get out of the pub alive and unmo lested, for even the sorrow of their betrayal was not strong enough to erase James's need to protect them. He didn't want them to hang.

"You're a lot brighter than I'd thought you'd be, Hagley."

He chuckled. "Thank you, mate...and good luck to you."

"Why are you packing?"

Sophia stilled. She glanced at the matron. The woman was wearing a white woolly wrapper and ruffled nightcap, features grave. She entered the bedroom and closed the door.

"I'm leaving for Jamaica in two days." Sophia folded the dress and placed it inside the chest. "You know that, Lady Lucas."

"No, I mean why are you packing?"

"Oh." She reached for another garment, a deep shimmering bronze, the same dress she'd sported the night of the earl's ball, the night she had reunited with James. She caressed the fabric softly, wistfully. "I dismissed the maid to bed. I'm restless. I need to occupy my fingers."

Lady Lucas peeked inside the chest and wrinkled her nose at the creased attire.

"Perhaps you should summon the maid to return to her duty?"

"It isn't necessary."

Sophia had no desire to preserve the outfits. What would she do with them in Jamaica?

There'd be no formal suppers or prim picnics on the island. And she suspected the governor's wife would not welcome her inside her stylish house even if she was wearing the refined material.

"I don't like it, Miss Dawson. It's improper."

Sophia sighed. "I'll iron the fabric when I get-"

"No, my dear." She flicked her fingers. "I mean, it's improper for you to be traveling to the island alone."

"Don't fret, Lady Lucas." She tucked the dress inside the chest. "The captain will serve as chaperone. I will be under his protection throughout the voyage."

"I see." She twisted her bony fingers together. "I'm sorry, Miss Dawson."

Sophia dusted the matching satin slippers before she interred them, too. "There's no need to apologize, Lady Lucas. You've done nothing wrong."

"I've failed you."

Sophia's heart pinched. "No, I've failed you."

She whisked across the room, her heart thudding. The matron had labored arduously on her behalf, priming her and guiding her through social norms and customs, grooming her to be a countess. And Sophia had snubbed the woman's efforts with her willful refusal to wed the earl...and her foolish desire to wed the black devil instead.

Sophia collected the next batch of belongings scattered across the bed, seeking comfort from her troubled thoughts with her rushed movements.

"The barbarian bewitched you, didn't he, Miss Dawson? That's why you rejected the earl?"

Sophia set the items on the table beside the chest. She stuffed each corset, stocking, and petticoat inside the leather trunk, cramming the articles into the nooks and corners, working through her frustration.

"Yes, he bewitched me," she said stiffly. "But that isn't your fault."

It's mine.

She was the one who'd believed the man had changed his views about marriage, that there was finally a chance for them to share a future together.

"It is my fault, Miss Dawson. I failed to protect you."

Sophia paused. She looked at the frail woman and frowned. "I will honor our agreement, Lady Lucas. I will not leave you dest.i.tute."

"Thank you, my dear, but that's not why I'm so aggrieved...I failed in my duty. I've never failed in my duty, Miss Dawson."

Sophia delved into her chaperone's weary gray eyes. "You haven't failed, Lady Lucas...I just don't belong here."

Not in England. Not with James. She belonged on the island. It was home. She only wished she wasn't retuning to the tropical paradise in disgrace...and despair.

"Good night, Miss Dawson."

Sophia said quietly, "Good night, Lady Lucas."