chapter 7

Isabelle kept her eyes on the lad in the laundry room as he instructed her on how to clean Hawk’s clothes. The boy’s scraggly appearance tugged at her heart, yet he smiled as he taught her about the laundry, not seeming to mind how he looked.

Although she tried to listen carefully, her mind wandered back to the captain’s bath and how understanding he’d been. Several times she had to remind herself that he was a highwayman. Yet he certainly didn’t act like one when they were alone.

Her thoughts came back to what she was doing as the boy dunked a shirt in the water.

“Then, ye take the shirt like this and scrub it up and down. Do ye see now?”

She nodded and followed his example, but her gaze strayed to his own façade instead of focusing on the clothes in her hands. Bushy brown hair hung to his shoulders, and the shirt on his back looked two sizes too small, as did the breeches with many rips. Why couldn’t Hawk pay the lad better? Did the captain not care?

“What’s your name?” She gave him a caring smile.

“Monkey.”

Surprised, she gasped and stopped her hands from scrubbing. “Did I hear correctly? You said Monkey?”

“Aye.”

“That cannot be your Christian name.”

He chuckled and scratched behind his ear. “Nah, me name is Adam, but the crew calls me Monkey.”

“Why?”

“Because of me duties to the cap’n, Miss.”

“Which are?” Isabelle held up the shirt to inspect her work, but noticed there were still stains on the garment, so she pushed it back in the water and scrubbed.

“When we were on the ship, I was called powder-monkey. Ya see, me duty was to fill the cannons with powder durin’ an attack. But the name sticked with me and now it fits.”

“What are your duties now?”

“Whatever Hawk or the other men need me to do.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m in me twelfth year.”

“Oh, that’s certainly an important role for someone your age.”

“It is, Miss.”

“Where is your mother, and does she approve of you working for Captain Hawk?”

He shrugged and turned his attention back to washing. “Don’t know me mother, or me father. Cap’n Hawk found me at the orphanage, and put me to work.” Monkey looked back at her and smiled wide. “That was the happiest day of me life. Nobody wanted me, and the orphanage was gettin’ crowded. Then one day, the cap’n strolled in through the doors, searchin’ for a lad who could do hard work. I knew’d I could do it, and when he looked at me, he bought me right away. Cap’n has been so good to me. And the other men treat me like family, too.”

Emotion clogged her throat, making her swallow hard. Could it be true? Was Hawk as thoughtful as the lad made him sound?

“I haven’t been with any other pirates or highwaymen, but from what I’ve heard, Cap’n Hawk is the best. I knows the Cap’n hates Napoleon’s army—and pretty much everyone from France—and he wants to torture them, but other than that, he’s the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

She focused on washing once again as her mind spun. Being from Britain, it was normal for him to be disgusted with the Emperor, but why did he hate everyone in France, too? “Do you know why people from France vex him so?”

“No, Miss, but I trust that whatever the Cap’n is doing is a just cause.”

“Well, Adam, I think you’re very loyal, and that makes you a good person, too.”

The boy’s face reddened as he grinned. “I’ll do anythin’ for Cap’n Hawk.”

Silence lasted between them as they continued in their chores. Why hadn’t she heard these stories about Hawk before? All she knew was he’d been labeled the dreaded pirate. Men feared him—women adored him. Well, Isabelle could see why women would swoon since her knees had weakened a few times.

Hawk had told her he didn’t kill people for sport. So why had he killed her father and most of those who were with him? Hawk gave her several chances to prove herself, why hadn’t he done the same with her sire?

While living with her aunt and uncle, she caught hints that they didn’t approve of the way her father handled his business affairs. Aunt Margaret was Isabelle’s mother’s sister, and the woman didn’t like Commodore Stanhope and the distance he put between himself and his daughter. Uncle Bartholomew hated her father with every fiber of his being. Yet nobody told her why her parent was such a bad man. He’d always been the epitome of goodwill to her.

Dare she ask Hawk? Would he even remember her father? But he must since he knew who Isabelle was, and he also had recalled that her father didn’t have anything of value. She scrunched her forehead. Why did Hawk know about her? She’d certainly have to ask him about that, too.

“Miss?”

She looked down at Adam who now had suds up to his elbows. “Yes?”

“Do ye hate Cap’n Hawk?”

Her heart clenched. Too bad she still didn’t know how to answer it. Hatred was definitely not the feeling running through her since becoming his nursemaid. “I don’t know him enough to decide yet.”

“I heard ya tried to kill him.”

She frowned. “I didn’t, really. I tried to protect myself, and in doing so, I stabbed him. It’s what any virtuous woman would have done in those circumstances.”

“I heard ye were mad at him for killing yer father.”

“That, I was. I don’t know why he killed my father when the captain freed some of the other prisoners.”

“Knowin’ the Cap’n, he probably killed yer father because he deserved it.”

She scowled. “Adam, please refrain from slandering my father’s name when you don’t even know him.”

“Aye, Miss.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “So does ya likes the Cap’n now?”

She chuckled. “Why all these questions?”

“Cuz I think the Cap’n likes ya a lot.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Ye’ve been the first lady he’s kept for himself.”

Heat filled her face as she stared at Adam. “I am?”

“Aye. Usually when he takes prisoners, they all stay in the cellar until he releases them. Yer the first lady me knows that he’s takin’ an interest in enough to keep by his side.”

She released an uneasy laugh. “I’m probably also the first prisoner who has ever stabbed him.”

Adam shook his head. “Oh, there have been plenty, believe me. But he took an interest in ye before ye wounded him.”

Confusion filled her even more. Why did the boy have to make sense? And why was her heart softening the more she thought about Hawk? Had she judged him too harshly? Although she hated to be wrong, this may very well be one of those times she had over-reacted.

Her resolve weakened, knowing he had indeed shown her a man with a pure heart, instead of the black color she thought it had been.

* * * *

Marcus wasn’t healing as fast as he wanted. Of course, all he could think about was Isabelle and how she made him want things he couldn’t possibly have. Never had he met a woman like her, and although he still didn’t think he could trust her fully, he wanted to show her how kind he could be instead of the ravaging highwayman he was rumored to be.

After she’d bathed him yesterday, he’d kept her busy with washing his clothes, and the poor woman was so weary she didn’t have dinner, but went straightway to bed. He didn’t have the heart to wake her just so he could show her more of his charm.

This morning when she came to change his bandage and bring him breakfast, she hurried through her duties, informing him that Monkey wanted to continue with her washing lessons. Marcus grinned. Strange how well Isabelle picked up on the chores so easily. Either that or she was afraid of being alone with him. He tried to convince himself being alone with her was not a good thing at all.

He’d taken a nap after the midday meal, and now he waited for her to bring his clean clothes. He also had a surprise for her. This morning he had Gabe find her trunk she’d had on the stagecoach. Upon Marcus’ request, he had his friend bring it to his room. Now she had more gowns to wear, and a brush for her hair. He couldn’t wait to see excitement light up her blue eyes. And he prayed she’d bestow a kiss upon him—this time without having to be told.

When she finally opened the door and walked in, she carried an armful of clothes and set them on the end of his bed. She presented him with a cheerful smile, which nearly made him sigh with happiness.

“I have a clean shirt for you,” she said. “Would you like me to help you put it on?”

“Yes, I believe I would.” After he’d answered, he wished he hadn’t. If she helped him, that would only mean getting closer to her. It was getting harder and harder to resist her charms.

Without a word, he stood so she could slip the garment over his head. When her gaze met his again, he smiled. Her cheeks flamed. He loved how nervous he made her.

“Thank you, my dear.” He rubbed a hand over his sleeve. “Was this your first time at washing?”

“Yes.”

“You did a remarkable job, I must say.”

“Well, I owe it all to Monkey. He’s really a sweet boy.”

“That he is, and a hard worker. Sometimes he works harder than my men.”

She laughed, which made his heart soften. Why did her voice sound like angels singing? What confused him more was thinking he wanted to listen to her…always.

She turned to move away, but he slid his arm around her waist and brought her up against his chest. Her eyes widened and she gasped. Both hands rested on his shoulders, making his heartbeat quicken. “I have a surprise for you, my dove.”

“Why would you do that? After all, I’m merely your servant.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been a very good servant.” He grinned and pointed to the trunk in the corner of the room. “Does that look familiar?”

Her gaze followed his finger. She hitched a breath and covered her mouth with her hands. Tears filled her eyes as she stared. His chest twisted with an unknown emotion. Why did her reaction affect him so?

“Oh, Hawk…” She left his embrace and slowly walked to her trunk, knelt and opened it. Gingerly, she swept her hand across the gown on top. “Oh, Captain, this is the best thing you could have done,” she whispered with a broken voice.

He moved beside her and stroked her hair. “I had actually instructed Gabe to fetch this before you stabbed me.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, still swimming with tears.

“I realized yesterday you needed a brush.” He grinned.

As she laughed, a tear slipped down her cheek. She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a hug. “Thank you.”

Closing his eyes, he held her against him as he breathed in her heavenly scent. She pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. Desire darkened her gaze, but she studied him differently than she had before. Being like this with her was rather nice. Comfortable.

Soft blue eyes stared dreamily into his, and she smiled. Then she dropped her gaze to his mouth, and his excitement grew. He prayed she would kiss him. But the longer he waited, the more his hopes dropped.

Finally, she leaned forward and swept her lips across his. Groaning, he tightened his hold on her. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before she tore her mouth away. Her cheeks stained pink as she stepped away. She turned to the clothes on the end of his bed and picked them up.

“Where do you want me to put these?”

That was it? That was all she had to say? But he couldn’t get over that kiss. Even as short as it was, lightning had passed through him, stunning him completely. He wanted so much more.

He pointed to his trunk. “In there.”

She knelt in front of it and lifted the lid. Lying on top of his things was the miniature he’d taken from her father’s room along with letters. She gasped and picked up the picture. Quickly, he rushed to her side, but it was too late to take it away. Now he must tell her the truth.

She looked up at him, the tears gone from her eyes. Instead, confusion filled her expression.

“Where did you get these?”

Sighing heavily, he moved to sit on his chair, leaning his elbows on the table. “I took it from your father the day I killed him.”

She picked up the letters then joined him at the table, looking at him through suspicious eyes. “Why?”

“Because that’s what highwaymen do.”

“Are you saying you stole these from his trunk?”

He shrugged. “You call it how you like, and I shall use my own terms.”

“You told me yesterday you didn’t take anything of value.”

“This was the only thing, I assure you.”

“Why do you still have these items? You killed my father nearly a year ago.” Her eyes pleaded for the truth.

Sighing, he nodded. “I searched through your father’s personal items, looking for parchments or secret letters from the emperor. Instead, I found letters and your picture.” He reached across the table and took the picture away. As he gazed upon it, he remembered what his thoughts had been back then. “The woman’s loveliness in this miniature captured my interest.” He rubbed his thumb across the bottom. “She has huge, innocent eyes, and a mouth made for kissing.” Marcus looked up at Isabelle and smiled. “I had never seen anything so beautiful before, so I kept it. Almost every day since, I’ve stared at your picture, wondering if I would ever meet you.” He shrugged and pointed to the missives still in her hand. “Of course, after reading the letters your father had written, I put the pieces together and realized you were his daughter.”

“I had gathered as much.” She nodded. “So this is how you knew who I was.”

“Aye.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I would have eventually.” He reached across the table again, and held her hand. “Isabelle, I’m not the evil man you may think.”

She tilted her head, still meeting his gaze. “Why were you looking for letters to my father from Napoleon? My father worked for the Prince Regent.”

He held his tongue, not daring to tell her what kind of man her father really was. “I’m a very suspicious man.”

“Is that why you killed my father? Because you believed he was a spy for Napoleon?”

That was another thing he didn’t want to tell her, but somehow this enchantress had put a spell over him to make his mouth jabber like a loose-lipped woman. Then again, he wanted her to think differently about him. He didn’t want her to fear him anymore. Only to trust him.

“I had been introduced to Commodore Stanhope six months prior to the time I shot him. I met him in town.” Her eyebrows lifted in question. “I have a different life other than being a pirate or a highwayman. Your father didn’t know my true identity.”

She nodded and relaxed her fingers in his hold.

“From that moment, I knew your father was a man who couldn’t be trusted. So, when my men stopped the stagecoach your father was on that fateful day, I knew I couldn’t turn my back on him. As it happened, I did turn my back, and he pulled out a pistol hidden in his coat. He almost shot me. Since I was quicker, I fired my pistol first, killing him instantly.”

She frowned. “Perhaps he felt as I did that first day, that we needed to protect ourselves from you.”

“Your father knew if he was quiet and bided his time, I’d have eventually released the prisoners. Like you mentioned before, I do have a reputation for releasing prisoners.”

She let out a sigh. “Then I’m very fortunate you didn’t try to kill me for what I did to you.”

He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “I shudder to think what might have happened if things had turned out differently.”

She kept silent for a few minutes as her gaze moved over his face. The softness in her eyes melted his heart, and he wanted to hold her next to him so much he ached.

“Captain? May I ask you another question?”

“Of course.”

“I cannot stop thinking about my dire situation…the one my father put me in. I fear when I get to Plymouth, I’ll find myself penniless.”

“You just might, my dove.”

“So I wondered…” She took a deep breath. “Would you return the dagger to me?”

Doubt snuck into his heart once again. Why did she want the dagger so much?

“The weapon is probably worth a lot of money,” she quickly continued. “If my father has left me without funds, I could sell the dagger and use the money.”

He nodded as relief washed over him. Perhaps he’d been too quick to doubt. “True, you can.”

“So, will you consider giving it to me?”

They’d grown close since she’d stabbed him, and he knew she was starting to trust him. “I’ll certainly consider your request.”

“That’s all I ask.” She exhaled deeply and glanced down at the letters. “Do you mind if I take these back to my room to read them in private?”

“Not at all.”

She smiled and pulled her hand away before standing. “Thank you.”

He let her leave, his heart dropping with each step. Would she thank him for ridding her of an inconsiderate father as well? Or would she always hate Marcus because of it?