The Pirate's Daughter

‘Oh, I think I shall come to like it very well,’ she finally replied quietly. She eased against the stranger as he continued to wade through the shallows, intensely aware of the immediate effect of her movement as she heard him catch his breath and felt his arm tighten about her waist. How was it possible that the warmth of that corded arm burned through her dress and into her flesh? She looked at his face, just inches from her own, and the bold gleam in his eyes almost halted her breath. ‘And you, sir? What is your business on Barbados?’

‘My ship, the Sea Hawk, is chartered by a mercantile company back in London—the Wheatley and Roe Company—not as successful as the Wyndham Company, I grant you, but it does well enough. I am Captain Stuart Marston, and glad to be of service.’

They had reached the shore but he continued to hold her, seeming reluctant to put her down—and it shocked Cassandra to find she was thoroughly enjoying the experience and the sensation of having him hold her so close.

She smiled up at him through her long, thick lashes. ‘We have reached the shore, Captain Marston. I think it’s quite safe to put me down now. Do you know my cousin?’ she asked as he set her down on the sand, experiencing a feeling of regret when he relinquished his hold on her.

‘No, I can’t say that I do. I did not arrive myself until yesterday.’

‘But you are no stranger to the West Indies?’ she asked, smoothing her skirts and quite unconcerned that they had been doused in seawater, for they would be dry in no time in this heat.

‘I have made frequent trips over the years—both to the Indies and America.’

‘And accumulated exciting tales to tell, I don’t doubt,’ Cassandra teased. ‘What a pity I don’t have the time to stay and listen to them. I do so enjoy tales of adventure and valour and daring-do.’

A lazy grin swept across Stuart’s tanned face, and he smiled deep into her eyes. ‘Would you make of me a braggart, Mistress Everson?’

She inclined her head in response to his disarming smile. ‘I would not be so bold, Captain Marston. Tell me, as someone who is familiar with the island, what do you think of Barbados? Can you recommend it? My cousin says you have to experience it for yourself, to take in the powerful flavours of the island, and form your own opinion. Would you agree with him?’

‘Your cousin is right. It is true that the Caribbean Islands are quite splendid—unique, in fact—and you must be prepared for a strange new experience. Their mystique has attracted travellers from all over the world.’ He glanced at the Spirit of Enterprise out in the bay, squinting his eyes in the sun’s glare. ‘I see you sailed on the Spirit of Enterprise, commanded by my good friend Samuel Tillotson. I’m glad he made it after being blown off course, when he might have fallen into the hands of buccaneers that infest these waters. Unfortunately these lawless, uncontrollable desperadoes are capable of attacking and stripping some of the greatest ships when they’re without the protection of the convoy, and think nothing of slaughtering everyone on board.’

His words were spoken with some deep-felt emotion, and there was an underlying bitterness that was not lost on Cassandra. Her conscience smote her and she averted her eyes, her thoughts locked upon her own involvement with such men. ‘Yes. We must be thankful he made it.’

‘And are you travelling alone?’

‘No,’ she replied, moving a little away from him, finding that being in such close proximity was curiously disturbing. He was uncommonly tall, a little over six foot, she thought. He wore a loose-fitting coarse linen shirt, which flapped open to expose a broad expanse of bronzed chest covered with a dusting of black hair. A thick leather belt with a silver buckle circled his waist, and beneath his black breeches, rolled up above his knees, his calves bulged and the sand stuck to his wet feet. She had seen men on board the Dolphin similarly dressed, but none had affected her in quite the same way that he did. ‘I—I have a companion with me.’

‘A lady?’ he asked, cocking a quizzical dark eyebrow.

‘But of course,’ she laughed. ‘I could not possibly travel halfway across the world on a ship with no companion other than seamen, now could I? It would be unbecoming for me to travel unattended.’ Suppressing a smile, she wondered what his reaction would be if she were to tell him she was no stranger to life on board a ship with only hard-bitten pirates for company. No doubt he would be horrified and want nothing more to do with her.

‘And your cousin—he is expecting you?’

Cassandra’s eye’s clouded and her expression became serious, for she was apprehensive of what John’s reaction would be on seeing her. ‘On the contrary. In search of adventure and to carve myself a mark in the world, when I left England I cast aside the security of home and family, knowing I faced the censure of my cousin John, who is also my guardian. I dare say he will be horrified to see me and his anger will be ferocious indeed, especially since I have no defence for my actions.’

‘And you don’t expect to escape retribution.’ Stuart’s eyes scanned her face, the twitch of his mouth revealing his amusement, while at the same time the thought did cross his mind that the young lady might be in love with her cousin.

‘Unfortunately no. I fear the consequence of my actions. John will be unable to refrain from showing his displeasure—and no doubt I will be thoroughly admonished for my unsuitable, impetuous behaviour. But once he is over the worst of his anger and has calmed down, I know he will be pleased to see me.’

A breeze rippled through the plume in the brim of Cassandra’s hat and she turned her face better to feel its coolness on her cheeks, offering some relief from the heat and humidity, finding as she did so that her eyes were drawn to Captain Marston’s irresistibly. His steadfast gaze held hers so she could not look away. She saw his face was not lacking in interest for he was beginning to realise he had met a real phenomenon.

‘So, your stay on Barbados is indefinite, Mistress Everson?’

The smile returned to her lips. ‘It is my wish to remain for as long as possible—but then, regrettable though it will be when the time comes, I must return to England with my cousin. How long that will be I can’t say until I’ve seen him. And you, Captain Marston? How long are you to remain on Barbados?’

‘When my ship has been relieved of its cargo I have to go on to Jamaica. I have relatives there I wish to see, and I have to collect a fresh cargo—mainly sugar. I expect to be gone several weeks, but I shall return to Barbados in time to join the convoy back to England.’

They turned to watch the boat that had capsized being hauled on to the beach, and the one carrying Rosa and the young midshipman Captain Tillotson had ordered to escort her followed close behind.

Stuart looked at Cassandra. His black eyes narrowed as he studied her with unnerving intensity. ‘I am reluctant to see you go, Mistress Everson. Perhaps you will allow me to escort you to your cousin?’

Cassandra averted her eyes. Being flesh and blood, she could not remain unmoved by the attentions of such a devastatingly handsome man. The feelings he roused in her were unsettling and outside her experience. ‘Thank you—you are most kind, but—Captain Tillotson has instructed one of his midshipmen to take me directly to him,’ she explained hesitantly, watching the young man of whom she spoke assisting Rosa from the boat.

‘And you know where he is to be located?’

He moved closer to her, a towering masculine presence who filled her sights. Close to, his ruggedness seemed more pronounced, and the broad expanse of his chest and arms reminded her rather forcefully of how his powerful body had felt pressed against her. Unexpectedly Cassandra found herself the victim of an absurd attack of shyness, and she suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable with the dark way he was regarding her, his gaze narrowed and assessing.

‘Y-yes,’ she stammered. ‘He—he is staying at the Courtly plantation, which is the home of Sir Charles Courtly in the parish of St George. Sir Charles is John’s long-time friend, who also has large investments in the Wyndham Company.’

Stuart nodded. Her confusion showed on her face. She was very young, her face that of a guileless child, and his own became warm and gentle, and yet at the same time ardent. He drank in her presence, quelling the insane impulse to bend his head and slowly, endlessly, kiss the smile from her soft inviting lips, to carry her along the shore away from prying eyes and make love to her.

She had no conception of her own beauty or the impact it had on men. No woman had ever affected him so deeply on first meeting. He must see her again, and the knowledge that he would exhilarated him. She fired his blood. He wanted her completely and irrevocably—with a need that defied all reason.

‘Then at least allow me to arrange some transport to take you out there.’

Cassandra accepted gracefully. There was a vigorous purposefulness in his long quick strides as he headed for the waterfront, and an air of carefully restrained power, of forcefulness, emanating from him. She stood rooted to the sand, while all of Meredith’s dark warnings about being acquainted with men such as Captain Marston rushed through her mind.

He spoke with a silver tongue, and his words, like his bold stare, set her blood aflame. He had told her he would be reluctant to see her go, and she was surprised how reluctant she would be to leave him. She told herself she was being foolish, that she was overreacting to what was nothing more than empty flattery, that it could not matter to her. Despite what he thought and said, she could not link her future with that of a reckless sea captain. In no time at all he returned.

‘It’s all arranged. A carriage is waiting to take you out to the Courtly plantation. It’s hardly a vehicle fit for a lady, but it will get you there.’

‘Thank you. You have been most helpful.’

‘I hope we will meet again before I have to return to England. Perhaps when I return from Jamaica. Everything about you intrigues me in a way that makes me want to get to know you better.’

Suspicious of his flattery, Cassandra laughed nervously, though a traitorous part of her responded to the low caress of his voice. She had to get away from him—to escape the intoxicating madness he was plunging her into. She needed all her willpower to dispel the assault on her defences. This man was too assured, too handsome, too irresistibly exciting by far.

‘And I think you are an outrageous flatterer, and capable of luring helpless females into a game at which you are obviously a master, Captain Marston. Yes, I can well believe that you are capable of charming a snake out of its basket. How many female hearts have you stolen with such honeyed sentiments?’

His look was swift and predatory, and a roguish gleam brightened his eyes. ‘Some—although I see nothing helpless about you. However, most women would think such thoughts but never utter them.’

Cassandra saw laughter lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. He was mocking her. Annoyance stirred and her eyes flashed. ‘I am not most women, Captain Marston.’

He raised an eyebrow with an amused admiration. He hadn’t missed the flare of temper in her eyes. ‘I couldn’t agree more. You are unaware of the potency of your charms that makes you different, Mistress Everson, and I meant no insult.’

Cassandra smothered a smile at the man’s outrageous audacity. ‘None taken.’

‘And you will allow me to call on you when I return?’

‘Yes, of course. I shall look forward to it,’ she murmured.

‘Thank you. Duty may take me away from you now, but not for long. I will not lose you. If you are not here when I return, then I will find you in London.’ His voice was low, urgent and persuasive, and he was studying her from beneath his strongly marked eyebrows, watching her face as he bowed his dark head politely, his expression appraising as she turned and began to move away and followed the young midshipman and her companion off the beach.

Stuart’s eyes continued to watch her. Her step was one of confidence, as if she sensed hidden dangers ahead but determined nevertheless to enjoy them. She moved gracefully, with an added fluency that drew the eye to the elegance of her straight back and the proud tilt of her head. In those first dazzling moments when he had scooped her out of the capsizing boat, neither had been prepared for the impact of their meeting, for the attraction had been mutual and instantaneous. The unexpectedness of it astounded Stuart, and Cassandra would have been surprised if she had known the depth of his feelings as she walked away from him. Suddenly, this, his final trip on the Sea Hawk, had begun to take on a certain appeal.

Young, original and fresh, Mistress Everson possessed an indescribable magnetism in abundance, with that unique quality of innocence and sexuality rarely come by. She was a woman, hardly more than a child, with a combination of youthful beauty and an untouched air of shy modesty, and yet she had about her a primitive earthiness that sat strangely at odds with her well-bred gentility. When she smiled a small dimple appeared in her cheek, and her rosy parted lips revealed perfect, small white teeth. Stuart was enchanted. He thought he had never seen anything quite so appealing or irresistibly captivating as Mistress Everson. Women like her were as scarce and as hard to come by as a rare jewel and must be treated as such, and he was determined that she would not escape him.

He knew practically nothing about her, but the violence and depth of his attraction, and his instinct, told him he had met the woman with whom he wished to spend the rest of his life. He had always avoided any sentimental attachment, yet here, against his will—for he had not thought to look for a wife until he returned to England—he found his head filled with thoughts of Mistress Everson, and he became determined that as soon as he returned from Jamaica he would embark on the most exhilarating and exciting chase of his life.

As he was about to turn away he stopped in his tracks and looked at her again, checked, suddenly, by a memory when he saw a thick strand of her silvery gold hair, having come loose from the pins securing it beneath her hat, become caught by the breeze. It toyed with it and raised it high, and it rippled and danced behind her as she walked like a ship’s pennon borne on the wind. His brow became creased in a puzzled frown when the memory stirred once more. He tried to think what it was and to remember of whom it was Mistress Everson reminded him. He got no further, for at that moment he was distracted when one of his crew drew his attention, and he was forced to turn his mind to other things.

Cassandra knew Captain Marston was watching her as she walked away through the vibrant, colourful profusion of people thronging the beach. She was tempted to turn her head and look back, but for some strange reason that was beyond her she kept her eyes focused ahead.

How could it be that after a few minutes away from him she was already craving his company once more? When he had looked into her eyes she had felt the intensity of his regard, and had known that he was passionately aware of her. Their meeting had left her tingling with pleasure, for she had never met a man so fascinating, stimulating and exciting. That he was a man of power and accustomed to obedience from others was clear.

She very much hoped they would meet again—or did she? She sighed, totally confused. What was wrong with her? Had she lost control of her reason? Was the island getting to her already? Was it the heat or some temporary madness? No one had ever made her feel this way. Could it possibly be that she was falling in love with a man she had met just once?

Chapter Three

T he Courtly plantation lay some four miles inland in the parish of St George, a broad lowland area separating the higher central uplands from the southern region. Since the settlement of Barbados by English colonists in 1627, the island had developed with astonishing rapidity, as forest clearance had proceeded apace, and the production of sugar, and its by-products, rum and molasses, had become the island’s principal economy. Barbados was politically stable, with the institution of slavery dominating every aspect of life on the island.

Protected from the sun’s hot rays by a parasol she had acquired in Trinidad, seated beside Rosa in the swaying carriage, Cassandra had a good view of the sun-drenched island. At the back of her was the jewel-bright sea, and before her stretched an undulating landscape of small settlements, modest hills and a patchwork of flat, tidy sugar fields, with the sight of expansive sugar plantations and poorly maintained settlers’ cabins dotting the verdant landscape.

Winding footpaths cut through brush and forest, thick with tropical foliage. The size and shapes of the trees, many of them towering fringed cabbage palms, were awesome. Leaving the road, they travelled down a wide track. Ahead of them were the outbuildings and the main house of a sprawling plantation. The three-storey stone and timber house, sturdy and handsome, which had been built on a rise above the cane fields to catch the cooling breezes and to look over the estate, was a stately English manor house in a tropical setting.

The plantation consisted of boiling houses and distilleries and other factory houses necessary for the manufacture of sugar, along with the squalid rows of palm-thatched slave huts, which were at the rear of the big house. They were partly hidden from sight by a barrier of trees and far enough away so any unpleasant odours did not offend the refined noses of the gentry who inhabited or visited Courtly Hall.

John had told her a little of Sir Charles Courtly, whose father, backed by merchant capital in England, had arrived on Barbados in the 1640s. Growing sugar had been his carriage to wealth and he had amassed a fortune, which, on his demise, had passed to his son. The family had become one of several that had come to dominate the island’s economy and politics. When he wasn’t in England—where he displayed an ostentatious lifestyle—Sir Charles Courtly hosted some of the most elaborate social gatherings on the island.

The carriage travelled up a long, narrow avenue lined with fringed palms. As they neared the house Cassandra’s reaction to the heat, the smell, the noise and the people she saw going about their work was almost physical. She breathed deeply with pleasure, for nothing had prepared her for this, but when the carriage stopped at the door of the house her heart throbbed. Knowing the painful interview with her cousin was close, a tension began to build inside her.

The door was opened by a servant, a man resplendent in pale blue silk, and when he saw Cassandra and Rosa, a wide, incredulous smile of welcome split his black face. The man, whose name was Henry, was so polite and his smile so infectious, that the two women were put at ease immediately.

When Cassandra introduced herself and Rosa and told him who it was she wished to see, he bade them enter. Cassandra paused to enquire of the young midshipman about paying the driver of the carriage, only to be told that the fee had been settled by the gentleman who had hired it. Cassandra’s heart warmed with gratitude for Captain Marston. If she should meet the handsome sea captain again—which she sincerely hoped would be the case—she would thank him for his kindness.

After unloading the carriage and placing the baggage in the drive, the midshipman climbed back on to the seat beside the driver and headed back to Bridgetown. At the same time as the visitors entered the house, a petite, elegant lady with a vivacious air, in middle age, breezed into the hall. The faint scent of roses surrounded her, floating from her lilac silk gown. It was the fragrance that always reminded Cassandra of Meredith, the scent of home, comfort and love. A host of memories stirred in her heart, and her conscience pricked her, sharp in its sting, for she sincerely hoped Meredith had forgiven her for disappearing like she had.

‘I am Julia Courtly,’ the lady murmured, introducing herself immediately and greeting Cassandra with unfeigned pleasure, a delighted smile dawning on her face, much of her youthful beauty still very much in evidence.

Cassandra felt a pair of brown eyes scrutinising her curiously. ‘I am Cassandra Everson, Lady Courtly, and this is Rosa, my companion. I must offer my deep apologies that we should impose ourselves on you uninvited, but I am here to see my cousin, Sir John Everson. I believe he is staying here at Courtly Hall.’

Lady Courtly looked most surprised. ‘He certainly is, my dear, but John never said you were coming.’

Cassandra had the grace to look contrite. ‘He—he doesn’t know. I thought I would surprise him.’

‘And he will be. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to welcome you to Courtly Hall,’ Lady Courtly said effusively. ‘We will not trouble ourselves as to why you have come to Barbados or how, but will see that your visit is an enjoyable one.’

‘John—is here?’ Cassandra enquired tentatively.

‘Yes, I do believe so, but not here in the house. He prefers to stay in a bungalow in the grounds.’ Her eyes went past Cassandra to Rosa, who looked as if she were about to wilt. ‘Mercy! You must think me atrociously lacking in manners. Please forgive me. You will be tired and in dire need of refreshment after your journey. Come into the drawing room.’ She ushered them inside, turning to Henry and instructing him to have refreshments sent in.

The interior of the room was cool and elegant, with exquisite silk hangings, pictures and gilt mirrors, carpets and furniture shipped over from England and France years before, a tribute to the family’s good taste.

‘You must be made comfortable at once,’ Lady Courtly said. ‘I shall see that rooms are prepared while you take some refreshment.’

Cassandra smiled her gratitude. She hadn’t expected to be greeted so warmly. ‘I thank you for your kind thought,’ she said in a low voice, ‘but Rosa and I really don’t wish to be any trouble. It was an exceedingly irresponsible action on my part to come here without a proper invitation. We will be perfectly content to stay with John.’

‘What! In that poky bungalow where there isn’t room for a body to turn round? Absolutely not. I’ll not hear of it. You are John’s cousin and there is no better place for you to stay than under this roof. Besides, with my son and his wife away in England at present, the house is much too quiet.’ Impulsively Lady Courtly put out her hand and laid it on Cassandra’s, her smile warm and entrancing. ‘I shall so enjoy having you stay and introducing you to our friends, and you can tell me all about what is happening in England.’

‘Thank you, Lady Courtly. I will speak to John.’

‘Of course you will, and I know he will agree that it is best you stay here. Oh, and my name is Julia, by the way. Lady Courtly sounds pompous and so formal, I always think. The three of you will dine here later—and then you can meet my husband.’

After partaking of much-needed refreshment, Cassandra and Rosa were directed to John’s bungalow some distance from the house by a shy young houseboy. The small building was almost hidden by the surrounding trees and sweet-scented flowering shrubs, and all manner of hanging and climbing creepers, with blossoms as dark as crimson or white as snow. The air was heavy with their perfume and the droning of bees.

Thanking the boy, who scuttled away, Cassandra stepped on to the verandah, welcoming the cool tranquillity of the shade it offered. Two bamboo rocking chairs stood side by side, and a hammock hung from a nearby tree. Gingerly she stepped through the open door, unprepared for the exotic strangeness of the bungalow, of its smell of lemons and musk. The polished wooden floor was strewn with gaily-coloured woven mats, and curtains fluttered in the gentlest of breezes at the open windows. Brocade upholstered divans scattered with corded and tasselled cushions stood against the walls.