The Pirate's Daughter. Helen Dickson

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ