Kit Black Page 3

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I don’t know, I haven’t seen her since she was eight. She had very dark hair and black eyes. I imagine that she hasn’t changed too much. She was delicate. Dainty. She’s been in convent schools. She’s a little older than you.”

  I stared at him. He seemed resigned to his fate. “You don’t love her, then?”

  He smiled a little. “I don’t even know her, but that’s the way it is. She’s got a good dowry. I can leave the navy if I want. There’ll be plenty to live on. “

  “Do you want to?”

  “Sometimes. At one time, I didn’t think there was anything better out there than the smell of the sea. I find it hard to get used to dry land.”

  “I can’t think of anything better than being on the sea.” I told him about my father, how he had been a pirate. He just gave me an indulgent smile like one gives a child. It irritated me a little.

  “I have a proposition for you. Will you hear me out? “He rose up on his elbow, tracing the freckles on my chest with one long finger.” I can give you carte blanche. Do you know what that is, Kita?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Follow me to France next week. I’ll set you up in a house. You can have whatever you need. Dresses. A carriage. Servants. I can afford it.”

  I stared at him. “You’d keep me, you mean?” My heart was pounding. I’d heard of this practice before. Of the fine gentlemen who kept their mistresses with the permission of the wife who turned the other cheek.

  “Under the nose of Sandrine.”

  He had the grace to look sheepish. “I told you that I have a duty to her. I am bound by my honor, but she’s a most understanding girl, I’m sure.”

  For one minute, I imagined it. Having him with me at least some of the time. And then, I thought about sharing him with someone else. “I’m not interested in being kept. I have no wish to be a whore.”

  His face darkened. “What are you doing here in my bed, then, Kit Black?”

  This time, I had the grace to blush.

  “I didn’t mean that you’re a whore. How can a bloody virgin be a whore,” he said, his brows knitting together. He appeared to be genuinely contrite. “And I know you are a virgin, because I felt it.”

  “Was a virgin.”

  “Yes, was,” he said softly. “Still faultless.” He touched my breast. His fingers burned me.

  I jerked back. “You’re in the habit of despoiling virgins, are you?”

  “No. Of course, I’m not in the habit of that. You just felt different. And there’s blood on the sheets. Kita, please.”

  I sat up and tugged the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around me. I just managed to waylay the arm that shot out to grab mine. I had left him quite naked. He didn’t seem to mind at all. Of course, the sight of all that tanned hard flesh on the white sheet he lay on took my breath away, but I told myself that I was angry and insulted. Truth to be told, though, I was also flattered by his interest. That he felt enough for me after having had me twice to offer carte blanche. A home of my own. A carriage. Servants. It was nice to know that if I were so inclined I would not end up like my mother. Well I would end up that way, just a higher paid version. A whore is a whore. What if I was to have children? What would they be? Bastards like me? Sandrine’s children would bear his name. And if I got old or unattractive would he leave me in the streets? I knew he would. There would be younger ones wanting him. He would only become more attractive as he aged. Oh, no. I was not going to be beholding to any man. I was not going to take this man’s money. Now, or ever. I had made a terrible mistake.

  I jerked away from him and left the bed. I lifted my chin high as I searched for my clothes. I planned to refund him his damned coins, too. So much for the new boots. It was no great loss, really, and he had done me the favor of satisfying my curiosity. Oh, God, he’d satisfied it so well. I knew no man was ever going to measure up to him.

  “Kita…come back to bed,” he beseeched.

  “No, thank you.”

  “We had a bargain. I think I lived up to my end of it.”

  “Aye, you did. But I don’t need your money.” I found my chemise on the floor where he had tossed it and slipped it over my head. Then I stepped into my skirt. I still couldn’t find my bodice. If it came down to it, I’d wear the shawl home. “And don’t think you are so wonderful, Armand Dupuis. You’re not. You’re too old for me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I feel quite sorry for your Sandrine.”

  “What are you doing?” He was genuinely worried now. He rose from the bed and walked to the chair naked.

  No. The man prowled. How does a man walk naked the same as he does with clothes? With the same regal bearing and the same haughty pride. My God, he was splendid. I just watched him stupefied, my heart thudding against my ribs. I couldn’t take my eyes off his smooth rounded rear, white beneath the tanned line where his breeches had stopped the sun from kissing his skin. He slipped on a robe; jade silk with Chinese characters. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had chosen it because it made his eyes look even more attractive.

  “I won’t need the money. My mother is dying, she hasn’t got long. After that I’m going to sea.”

  “You can’t be serious. You’re going to put that silly disguise back on and pretend to be a man so you can go to sea?” He laughed at me again like it was all some big joke.

  “I hate you for laughing. It’s not funny. You’re the first man who has ever seen through my disguise. The first, Armand Dupuis. I am taller than most men, and equally as smart. I can make my voice quite deep, and I can use a sword. I can read and cipher, I can read maps of all kinds. I know all about the stars and changes in the weather. Roger taught me. I can learn to be a buccaneer just like my daddy. Damned if I can’t. I will have more gold one day than you’ll ever offer me.”

  He shook his head, and I wanted to punch him. Instead, I turned and picked up his sword. “I could fight you.”

  He sighed and held up his hands. “I believe you. At least take the gold coins.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “You said you needed boots. I want you to have them.”

  “I don’t want anything of yours.”

  “Ah, but you already have it.”

  “What?”

  “You have my heart and my undying desire, my lady pirate.”

  I tossed the coins at him and followed with the sword. He ducked, but I think the blade nicked his face. I didn’t look at him. I backed out of the door and slammed it in his handsome face. Horrified, I wanted to go back to him and see how much damage I had done with the sword blade. I didn’t.

  I walked barefoot home and cried for the most of the way. My feet hurt on the rough stones and my legs ached between them. I was ashamed, disgusted, and terribly sad. Oh, God, what if I’d taken out his eye? I couldn’t remember crying since I was a child.

  When I slipped through Roger’s window, he was waiting for me with a grim face. I just knew that my mother had died. I didn’t think I could cry over Madeline, my mother. I had believed that her death would come as a relief. She had suffered too long. But I did cry. I cried until my ribs ached, and all I could manage were dry gasps that hurt my throat. There seemed to be no more tears. She was so still and so thin, so unlike the laughing dark eyed woman of her youth.

  There was something in her hand. I had to pry her fingers apart to get it. It was a medallion on a leather string. I looked at it carefully. It depicted a moon with a man’s face. A grinning face. I don’t know where it had come from. I showed it to Roger, and he told me it had been my father’s. I covered my mother’s face with the blanket and walked back to Roger’s rooms with him. I was thinking about Armand, wondering if that blade had cut his eye. If I was honest with myself, part of my sadness was over the prospect of never seeing him again. I wondered if I would carry that picture I had of him forever in my mind’s eye. Of his handsome face lowering to kiss me.

  “We haven�
�t got the funds for a burial. I’ll take a rowboat out and put her into the sea,” Roger spoke as in a dream. “She said it would be alright, though she never liked the sea much herself. She doesn’t deserve to be in the pauper’s field.”

  “Aye. That’ll do, Roger.”

  “What happened, lass? Where are your shoes?”

  “I left them behind.” I sat down and looked at my feet. There were cuts on them, the bottoms black with soil.

  “You got your gold pieces, didn’t you?” Roger squinted at me, lighting his pipe.

  I bit my lip. I had never been able to lie to Roger. Not in my entire life. The few times I did, he made me go out back to the bush and choose my own switch so he could whip me with it. I told him the truth always now. With a voice raspy from crying, I told him of what was offered and what I did in retaliation for it.

  “There’s many a fine lady who’d take a gent up on an offer like that,” he said. “You could be wearing those wide straw hats and silk dresses. You’d have enough shoes for an army.”

  “I have no intention of taking him up on it.”

  “Aye. Well, he won’t be so pretty to look at with one eye gone.”

  I cringed at that.

  “He might send the authorities after you.”

  “I don’t think he knows where I live. I didn’t tell him. There are lots of whore houses in Ajaccio.”

  “Not many that house six foot blond boys named Kit, I’d imagine.”

  I sighed. “I don’t care. I hope I missed his damn eye, but he’ll have a scar to remember me by. Did I hear that The Black Moon docked yesterday?”

  “Aye. It did. What are you getting at, girl?”

  “I’m planning to join her.”

  “With Harris Gareth as captain? The man’s a bastard if there ever was one. You’ll not be safe, girl. That is a daft idea. I thought you’d done with that long ago.”

  “I’ll be fine, Roger. I’ve a week to get my boots and my sword. If I have to steal them, I will.”

  “I’ll be joinin’ the crew of The Black Moon too, then. I’ll not be lettin’ you suffer that fate alone.”

  “You’re too old, Roger,” I called after him angrily as he walked away. “And I don’t need a nursemaid.”

  ***

  I was scrubbing pots for the cook three days later, when Roger came into the kitchen.

  “There’s someone to see you.”

  I stared at him. “Who’d want to see me?”

  “Your Frenchman. He has something of yours he wants to give to you.”

  My heart was pounding furiously. “If it’s the shoes I forgot and my bodice, tell him to throw them away.”

  “He’s insistent about seein’ you, Kit. He’s talking about revealing secrets, if you take my meaning.”

  My face flamed. The bastard. The skunk. “Where is he?”

  “I left him waiting in the lane. Oh,” Roger grinned. “You just missed the eye.” He went off chuckling heartily. Men.

  I took a deep, shaky breath before I got up the nerve to walk to the back door. He was standing with his wide back to me. I let my eyes trail down his fine form, from the top of his head to his gloriously shiny boots.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  He whirled and smiled at me, seeming amused by my appearance. I wished I were wearing my hat so that I could tug it low over my eyes. I tried not to let it get to me. I was happy to see him in one piece. The only flaw was a cut to his eyebrow. It appeared to be split in two, and had been neatly stitched. There would be little scarring to show for the hardship.

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said.

  “Thank you. Is that why you came here?” It was hard not to remember the feel of him as I stood there. The velvet touch of his lips on mine, his soft fragrant hair against my face. Damned if I didn’t want him again. My body was a great betrayer. If I were ever to get anywhere, get away from this beautiful looking man who held my heart prisoner, I would have to be one hell of a lot stronger than I was feeling.

  “No, Kita. I’ve brought you something. And I will not take no for an answer.” He held out a muslin wrapped parcel to me. “Open it.”

  I shook my head, trying not to meet the earnest gleam in his lovely jade eyes. I would most definitely not look at his mouth. That would be my undoing. “I told you I didn’t—”

  “Open it. I insist.”

  I unwrapped the bundle, my heart in my throat. Inside was a pair of shiny new boots. They smelled of leather and bootblack. They were new, custom made, the stitching fine, the leather supple. I knew they had cost him more than the two pieces of gold I had thrown back at him.

  “I can’t take them.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  I shook my head stubbornly. “How did you know my size?” I longed to try them on, to walk in them, to wear something that would actually make my feet feel good for a change, rather than pinched and chaffing. I had never had a pair of new shoes before. And to think he’d gone to the trouble to do it. It overwhelmed me. After I’d been so obnoxious.

  But then, his proposition had been odious and insulting, hadn’t it?

  “There’s no sense telling me to take them back. I had them custom made. I took your slippers in with me and had these made larger. Try them.”

  “I’ll try them, but I won’t keep them.”

  I sat on one of the empty crates. I was ashamed of my crude stockings, dirty and full of holes. The boots were perfect. They slipped up over my ankles and calves with the littlest of tugs. There was room for my toes, and the heels didn’t slip. I stood in them and looked at him, eye to eye, mouth to mouth. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and hug him. And I was finding it terribly hard not to cry, because, no one, absolutely no one but Roger had ever been so very kind and generous to me.

  “You want me to change my mind about the offer you made me to live in Paris, don’t you?”

  “I want you to be comfortable, Kita. I don’t see you being the type who changes her mind once it’s made up.”

  “I won’t, you know.”

  He seemed concerned. “You can’t be serious about The Black Moon. I know it’s docked somewhere near here. There are stories about this Gareth captain. He was once in the English Navy. They drummed him out for cruelty.”

  “He’s a privateer. And he’s not said to be a slave smuggler.” I was going to kill Roger for telling him.

  “He’s said to be a brute. He’s a pirate.”

  I shrugged. “I can look after myself. If any man tries anything with me, he dies.”

  He touched his injured brow. “I believe that. But you’re too pretty, they’ll know.”

  I blushed. “I can do it.”

  “I’ll be worrying about you.”

  “You have no cause to worry about me. You’ll have a wife to worry over soon.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I wanted to ask you something else. Do you think there’s any possibility that you may have conceived that night? I didn’t take the precautions I’d meant to.”

  I blushed. “No. I’m sure.”

  “Kita, Mon amour, it can happen the first time. I want you to know that I’ll—”

  “I’m sure,” I interrupted him. “My monthly flow is on me now.” I didn’t want him calling me his love. I didn’t want that. Not ever.

  He seemed relieved. Perhaps he was. I was not certain, it was hard to read his gaze. I suspected he was practiced at hiding his feelings, as are most military men.

  “I have something else to give you.”

  “I don’t want anything else.”

  “Ah, but you have to take it. It’s of little use to me now.”

  He removed his scabbard and the fine sword within, and handed it to me.

  “No! I will not take your sword! Never.”

  “I can’t use it now.” He gave me a rueful smile. “You know what the legend says, don’t you? We, Navy men, are very superstitious.”

  I glared at him. “What legend?”

  “If a m
an…” He grinned and looked at my bound breasts. “If a man has taken your sword and used it against you and draws blood, it will never be trusted again. I cannot use it. I’d risk death in battle.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is. I would never lie to you.”

  “That’s silly.”

  “I shall just leave it in the trash heap, then. It was a gift from my grandfather.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I will.”

  I looked at the sword, glistening like gold in the sun. It was a fine weapon, beautiful. There were letters carved into the hilt. AED. “What do they stand for?”

  “Armand Etienne Dupuis.”

  I sighed. “I’ll take it, then. I’m sorry I took your luck. One day I’ll return it to you and you can give it to your son.”

  “Maybe I’ll have a daughter.”

  “Maybe she’ll need a sword.” I could feel my throat thickening. “If you’ll accept something from me, I’ll take it and I’ll look after it just as you would have.”

  He nodded.

  I pulled the medallion from out of my shirt and over my head, and laid it in his warm palm. “This was my father’s. Now it is yours, Armand Etienne Dupuis.”

  He smiled. “I’ll wear it with pride, Kita. One day I’ll return it to you.”

  I nodded. My chin was trembling. I was going to cry. How I hated this. I didn’t want to part with him, but he was not mine to keep. He would never be mine, not the way that I wanted him. I would never share him.

  I took the sword, and wearing the boots which felt as light as clouds on my feet, I walked away from him. I didn’t trust my voice to utter a goodbye.

  “Kita?”

  My God. Could he not leave me the hell alone? I felt two hot tears slip down my cheeks. I turned and looked over my shoulder. For once, my boots didn’t stab my heels and toes and cause me pain. I stared into his sad eyes and hurled my self into his waiting arms. He lifted me up so that I was on my toes, hugging me hard against him. I could feel his heart pounding wildly against mine. I buried my nose in the warmth of his neck, my cheek abraded by the braid around his collar.

  “Thank you,” I managed. “Truly, you are most kind.”

  “My thoughts are hardly kind at the moment,” he said huskily. I could feel his hard hands pressing into my back.