Tides of Passion Read online

  “My poor exile in his own land. I’ll trade you a few sweet innocents for one lusty trollop!”

  “You jest, but sometimes the jest wears thin.”

  “You flaunt it in their faces with golden earrings and your hair longer than fashion.”

  “The earrings I wear to please the natives of a village in Bahia, and they amuse me. The woman I seek won’t mind whether or not I wear earrings.”

  “Your father really is a cold bastard!”

  Josh laughed bitterly. “That he is, and as cruel as he is cold—he’ll never forgive me for taking Phillip.”

  “He has no heirs now. Someday maybe he’ll soften and change his mind. My father says old age changes one’s views.”

  Josh laughed. “I don’t think of your father as being in his dotage!” He sobered and added, “I don’t think my father will ever change. We were always at sword points with each other, for I’m as stubborn and strong-willed as he, although I hate to claim one quality from him! He was glad to be rid of me, but Phillip was a different matter. Phillip wouldn’t defy him purposely, for he had a more gentle nature,” Josh said, his eyes no longer seeing the London street, but remembering when he and Phillip were on board the Venture, his first ship. By the time Josh was twenty, he and Terrence had gotten their own ship. When the ship docked at Portsmouth, Josh had ridden home at his first opportunity to get Phillip.

  They had slipped away from Cathmoor Manor in the darkness of night and had ridden as swiftly as possible for the port. The ship had been unloading cargo and was then readied to sail. Josh knew that the danger of their father finding Phillip was growing. Two days before it was time to sail, he was working up on the rigging in a cloying fog when out of the swirling mist his father appeared.

  Josh had scampered down the lines, calling to Phillip to get below, and informing Terrence of his father’s whereabouts. Moving to the head of the gangplank, Josh faced his father for the first time since he had run away from home.

  Lord Cathmoor looked little changed except that the lines in his face were more pronounced—he was not quite as awesomely large as Josh had remembered. For an instant emotions tore at him—anger, resentment, and the dread fear that his father had always been able to stir.

  “Get out of my way!” the duke ordered, standing at the foot of the gangplank with two men beside him.

  “This is my ship,” Josh said firmly.

  “Phillip is not of age, and I’m his father. You have no right to refuse me.”

  “You cannot be sure that Phillip is here, and I’ll not allow you to set foot on my ship.” He heard a sound beside him and glanced about to see Terrence appear with a pistol in his hand.

  “Very well. If that’s the way it has to be, I’ll get a constable to force you to hand over Phillip.” His father took a step up the gangplank and shook his fist at Josh. “I promise you—if you hide him from me, I’ll disinherit you both. Neither of you will ever again be welcome in the house of any decent person in London. Society will be closed to you both forever!”

  “I don’t give a damn what you do,” Josh said.

  “You will. And I have the influence to do it. You’re young and headstrong now, but loneliness will wear thin. I’ll make outcasts of you both.”

  “You’re a cruel man, and I disclaim my ties to you! Phillip never could understand why you hated us so,” Josh said, feeling his temper flare and trying to keep from shouting at his father.

  The duke glared at him. “I have one son, and I don’t hate him. You’re so like—”

  He snapped off the words, and Josh finished, saying, “—like my mother. The first one to flee your cruelty.”

  “Damn you!” He climbed the gangplank, and Josh stiffened for a fight.

  “Get off the plank,” Terrence ordered, and leveled his pistol at the duke.

  Lord Raven glared at Terrence, then arched his eyebrows as he looked back at Josh. “So now you have a bodyguard. You’re a pirate—like the beggars of London. I’ll make you regret the day you ever crossed me.” He turned and strode down the plank, his black cape whipped by his abrupt movements. In seconds he was in his carriage and lost in the mists.

  “We sail now, laddies,” Terrence said quietly.

  “We’re not ready. We have calking—”

  “It’s seaworthy enough for now—he’ll be back.”

  “Thank you for stepping forward.”

  “Glad to help out, Josh. I’ve seen your scars,” Terrence said in a quiet voice.

  Phillip emerged from a hatchway, his sandy hair tousled. “Can he forcefully search the ship to retrieve me?”

  “Indeed, he can. We’re sailing soon, so step lively. Get up here and watch how it’s done.”

  “Aye, that I will!”

  They had sailed within the hour, and Josh felt relief grow as the English shore receded in the distance, because he knew his father never made idle threats. It was a year before they returned to England, and when they did, they let Phillip off at a port in Wales, picking him up when they commenced the next journey, because he was still not of age.

  “Thinking?”

  The voice broke into Josh’s reverie and he looked at William with mild surprise, so absorbed was he in another world. “Yes. My mind was years away. Sorry. I was remembering when I took Phillip, how the duke threatened to do just this—make me a social outcast. I gave little heed to his warning at the time.”

  William laughed. “If you had known full well this would happen, would it have changed what you did that day? Would you have returned Phillip to him?”

  “Of course not.” Josh frowned and brushed his fingers through the horse’s thick mane. “If I had, though, he would be alive…”

  “You can’t take the blame for a seabattle with the Spanish!” protested William.

  “No, but he would have grown up at home and would probably have married. Phillip was frightened of our father, but he got along with him as well as anyone could.”

  “You can’t torment yourself with what might have been.”

  “No, I suppose not. The duke has gotten his revenge. His threat has been carried out, and I am a social outcast.”

  “Only with parents of marriageable ladies and a small group of men to whom you wouldn’t give the time of day.”

  Josh laughed. “You’re right!” They rode in silence down the long street, and after several blocks Josh said, “William, last time I was here, there was a man named Miranda who talked of the fate of the Chileans. They were ruled tyrannically by the mother country and Miranda was enlisting Englishmen to help in the fight.”

  “Yes, to voyage to the ends of the earth. It’s their battle, not ours. The Congress of Vienna is just getting the Continent back in order after Napoleon. Who would want to get involved in more war? I have no quarrel with Sp…I’m sorry. I forgot for a moment.”

  “That’s all right. My quarrel isn’t with all Spaniards, merely the man who owns a fleet, and his sailors. It was the Count of Marcheno who murdered Phillip and Terrence—and too many other fine men from our ship.”

  “I thought fighting was part of sea life.”

  “That it is, but torture isn’t. I despise Marcheno. Terrence was like a brother to me. We had been together since the time I left home.”

  They rode in silence another block before Josh said, “There will be Englishmen fighting to liberate these people in Chile from Spanish rule.”

  “Yes. There’s an organization here to give aid. Quite a few prominent men have pledged their help.” William twisted in the saddle to stare at Josh. “Don’t tell me you’re going to contribute the spoils of the last voyage?”

  “I’ll do even better than that,” Josh replied softly. “I’m sick to death of being turned away from every decent family in London.”

  “Oh, come now, I don’t—”

  Josh laughed. “Every decent family with a marriageable daughter! ’Pon my soul, I’m sorry, William. I didn’t mean you! It’s the exclusive clubs, the other places I want
open to me, as they are to my father,” he said, and his voice became harsh as a muscle worked in his jaw. “Where does this Laturo Lodge, the organization of Englishmen for Chilean liberty, meet?”

  “We’re about two blocks away from their headquarters, and they meet Wednesday night.”

  “That’s where I’ll be Wednesday night.”

  “You jest!”

  “No. If I fight alongside Englishmen in a cause they believe in, will they slam their doors in my face when I come home?”

  William stared at him a moment, then threw back his head to laugh. “You’ll sail around the world, risk your skin—it would be simpler to settle down to a respectable occupation and earn their trust.”

  “Aye, and have a long white beard if I succeeded. How can I earn the same here?”

  They stared at each other, and William sobered. “I suppose you’re right, but I’m not sure that when you return, you’ll think it was worth the price you paid.”

  7

  Wiltshire, England

  January 1816

  Sunlight streamed through the latticed windowpanes in the library of the quiet manor. Lianna sat with her legs folded under her in a window seat, her pink muslin dress billowing over pillows and woodwork. She was sewing trim on a thin batiste nightdress she planned to wear when she was married to Edwin. Her heart ached for him; it had been over a month since they had been alone together. Her father kept her busy and watched her more closely now, but she contacted him through notes carried by Quita. Lianna knew, therefore, that Edwin was now in London and would be home in three more days.

  Having finished her schooling, Lianna was packed and ready to leave for Spain a month early. There were still dresses being made, morning calls to make, and a farewell party given by Melissa Hardeston’s family. Lianna knew from Edwin’s most recent note that he had been sent to London along with another groomsman to receive goods from one of her father’s ships. Since her father had fallen off his horse the previous week and broken his foot, he could not travel to London.

  Unfolding Edwin’s latest note, Lianna reread it for the tenth time in two days.

  Time draws nearer. I go to London on a brief errand. Return on January 16, only one month before we go. We’ll meet when I get back. E.

  She folded it and tucked it beneath her chemise, keeping it near her heart. A light rap on the door made her look up from her sewing. Doria stood there, her face as solemn as ever. “Squire Melton requests you to come to his room.”

  “Papa wants to see me? Of course.” Lianna left her sewing on the windowseat and hurried to greet her father. The squire sat at his desk with his bandaged foot propped on a stool.

  “Good morning, Papa. How’s your foot today?”

  “Better. Your spirits improve as time draws near to leave for Spain.”

  She sat down on a straight-backed wooden chair.

  “I have made arrangements for Doria to live with you in Spain. She is originally from there and more than willing to return.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Lianna, I have sent word to Marcheno about my foot. It aches and gives me trouble and I regret to tell you that I can’t make the long journey.”

  Lianna received the news with mixed emotions. Her father wouldn’t have been present at her marriage to Edwin and now his absence from the journey would make it easier for her to escape. Yet she suspected her father was glad for the excuse, because he cared little about spending time with her, and that saddened her.

  “I’m sorry, Papa, but I understand and I do want your foot to heal properly.”

  He studied her. “Your departure date has been moved up. You leave for Portsmouth and the ship to Spain tomorrow morning, January 14.”

  Stunned, she clenched her fists in her lap. “A month early!”

  “Yes. Everything is ready.”

  “I’m not ready!” she protested, appalled at the change of plans.

  “Come now, you’re as ready as you will ever be. Your trunks are packed—some are already loaded on the carriages.”

  Lianna suddenly realized that her father had planned for her to leave on January 14 all along because he had suspected she might try to run away with Edwin.

  “Papa, you can’t send me away so soon—I can’t possibly say good-bye to all my friends by tomorrow.”

  “You’ll leave at sunrise, Lianna. It will do you no good to defy me. And remember that you’re a young girl and youth is impetuous. Don’t try to send anyone to London to tell Edwin Stafford. I’ve told the staff that if any man leaves here to talk to Edwin, he’ll no longer be in my employ.”

  She stared at her father in disbelief. He had thought of everything; there was no longer any reason to lie about why she didn’t want to leave so quickly. “I’ve known Edwin all my life. The least you can do is let me say good-bye.”

  “No. I’ve talked to both Edwin and his father. Should you defy my wishes, I’ll disinherit you. You’ll be penniless. John Stafford is a good man and he’s promised to put you aboard La Joya for Spain, and I know he will.”

  “And you’ll pay him extra to do so,” she said bitterly.

  “I’ll excuse that remark because you’re distraught.”

  “Papa, I beg you to reconsider this dreadful marriage!” she cried, feeling desperate. “I love Edwin Stafford.”

  “I want it understood, Lianna,” Squire Melton said sternly, “if you should try to run away on the trip to Portsmouth and find Edwin to wed against my wishes, I’ll have him sent to Newgate Prison. Nor will you escape my wrath. Do you understand?”

  She looked down at her cold fingers clasped together. “Please Father, let me wed the man of my choice.”

  “The arrangements are set and in only a few months you’ll feel entirely differently. Now, if you don’t mind, my foot pains me.”

  In a blur of tears she ran to her room and threw herself across the bed to cry. But within minutes Doria informed Lianna that the dressmaker was waiting to finish whatever garments she could, and Lianna was kept busy for the next five hours. She suspected her father had planned that too.

  Unable to sleep, that night Lianna sat in the windowseat gazing over the treetops, trying to will Edwin back from London.

  The tall masts of sailing ships pointed skyward at the wharf in Portsmouth. Their spars were darkly outlined against the early-evening sky as the last rays of sunshine spilled across the gray water in a shimmering red glow.

  Josh Raven walked down the gangplank of a sleek frigate, his long legs crossing the dock while wind blew his black hair away from his face. He was accompanied by a shorter man with light hair across the crowded, busy dock.

  “Tomorrow, instruct Simms to paint a new name on the ship. She’ll become El Feroz—ready to deceive the Spanish and accomplish my mission.”

  Fletcher Chance squinted, looking at Josh. “Anger can eat your insides out—I should know.”

  The retort that rose swiftly to Josh’s lips was forgotten as a girl swirled to a halt in front of him, her hands on her hips. Dark hair fell over her shoulders and her black eyes gazed in open admiration at first one man, then the other. Her coarse woolen shawl was tattered, the hem of her skirt was covered in mud, and a smudge of dirt was on her cheek, but none of it hid her lusty earthiness.

  “Two fine gentlemen out for a stroll.” Her gaze came to rest on Josh. “A tall one you are. Have a lady waiting?”

  Josh was amused by her boldness and smiled. His gaze lowered to the knot of her shawl. Beneath it, he spied the string that tied her blouse over an ample bosom. He laughed softly. “Maybe I do—now.”

  “I’ll go on ahead,” Fletcher Chance said dryly, moving past the girl.

  “I’ll be along,” Josh answered without taking his eyes from the dark ones watching him. While sailors and workmen walked around them, Josh asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Tillie. It’s Matilda.”

  “Tillie, want a drink at the pub?”

  Her smile widened. “Yes, sir.”

  He slipped his
arm around her waist and was dismayed at the heavy, musky scent that assailed him. He wished that Tillie had touched water recently. For an instant he was tempted to haul her on board ship for a bath, but the notion passed.

  “What a strong one you are!” she said as her hand rested on his arm. “A ship’s captain?”

  “How’d you guess?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her answer, too aware that she had known many a sailor and more than a few captains. Her reply was lost as a carriage careened around a corner and bumped a cart loaded with fish, sending a silvery cascade beneath the carriage wheels.

  The driver fought to gain control while the horses lunged toward the edge of the dock. Josh sprinted after them as the horses reached the edge. He caught the bridle of one and struggled to bring it under control while the driver leapt to the ground to calm the other.

  A couple emerged when the horse quieted. “Damn,” the man swore. “Thought we were headed into the sea!” While the man talked, the woman clinging to his arm gazed into Josh’s eyes, then looked demurely away.

  “See if anyone was hurt, John,” she said in a soft, lilting voice.

  “William, see to the man with the cart,” the man instructed his driver; then he stepped forward, extending his hand to Josh. “Thank you, sir, my wife and I are indebted to you.” He reached into his coat and produced three gold pieces.

  “There’s no need of that,” Josh said with a smile.

  The man eyed Josh’s finely tailored black coat and breeches, his white shirt, and replaced the gold pieces in his pocket. “Thank you.” He turned to help his wife into the carriage and she glanced once more at Josh, smiling briefly. Her features were delicate and a faint trace of roses assailed his nostrils. Josh was reminded of the world that had been denied him and looked down at the dirt-smeared face of Tillie. Feeling a tinge of revulsion, he reached into his pockets and gave Tillie two gold coins. Her fingers instantly closed over them and she laughed.