A Pirate's Love by Johanna Lindsey

  Tristan smiled weakly. "I suppose I must be thankful for once that you're a stubborn Frenchman who refuses to obey orders."

  "And rightly you should be," Jules grunted as he sauntered into the room. "You had him at your mercy, and instead of running him through as the bastard de­served, you gave him your back for a splendid target. By rights, it should have been you lying in a pool of blood. You're so damned smitten with that girl that you run to her at the slightest cry. The wench will be the death of you yet."

  "Tristan!"

  Bettina's scream was like a knife through Tristan's heart, and he completely forgot about Jules as he ran into the room. The bed was empty, and he glanced frantically about the room.

  "Mother of God!"

  He ran to her, his face as pale as hers. In one swift motion he cut the rope with his sword; then he dropped it and lifted her in his arms. She screamed from the sudden movement, sending a cold chill down his spine, but in two quick strides he brought her to the bed and laid her down gently. She opened her eyes and they were calm, filled with relief, as she stared up at him.

  "My God, Bettina, why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me delay so long with Bastida?" he asked. He wiped the blood from her chin, blood from the cuts on her lips where she had bitten them to keep from scream­ing.

  "He wanted you to hear my cries, thinking they would upset you and make you careless. I couldn't let that happen. I am sorry I cried out when I did, but I—"

  "You should have cried out sooner, blast it! I have to get you help," he said sternly, apprehension showing on his face.

  "It is too late for that, Tristan. You will have to—"

  Tristan was struck with horror as her screams filled the room again. Jules came to the door, but seeing Tris­tan by the bed, with Bettina fiercely clutching his hand, he quietly closed the door and left them alone. A few minutes later, Tristan brought his daughter into the world.

  Bettina stared in wonder at the tiny infant Tristan placed in her arms. She proudly noted the golden wisps of hair and the light blue she could see through half-closed eyelids. Then she looked up at Tristan and frowned.

  "I—I am sorry I could not give you the son you wanted," she said in a hoarse whisper.

  Tristan sat on the edge of the bed and bent to kiss her brow, then smiled with a shake of his head.

  "What does it matter that our first child is a girl? There will be others, many others, and I will love them all. But this one, this tiny red-faced girl, will hold a special place in my heart."

  She could see hi his eyes that he was not disappointed, and her heart filled with joy. With a sigh of relief mixed with contentment, Bettina slept.

  It was morning when Bettina awoke. The shutters in her room had finally been opened wide and the sun was spilling into the room. The feeling of peace and happi­ness that she had felt before exhaustion claimed her came back to her now as she felt her daughter stir on the bed beside her.

  In the next half hour, she experienced the pleasure every mother must feel at being able to nourish her child from swollen breasts. As she held her baby in her arms, the child appeared to be asleep, except for the continuous sucking motion of her little mouth.

  Tristan came into the room a while later, and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Bettina's hand in his. His eyes were soft and tender as they gazed down at her and at Ms sleeping daughter.

  "How do you feel?" he asked.

  "Happy."

  "That's not what I meant, and you know it," he said in a voice that was supposed to sound stern, but didn't.

  "I am fine, really," she said with a warm smile, and saw the tension leave his face. But then she touched his cheek tenderly. "Tristan, what you told Bastida, did all that really happen?"

  "Yes," he answered, and no hate flashed into his eyes as it used to whenever Bastida's name was mentioned.

  "It must have been awful living with that memory all these years, and you were so young when it happened. How did you manage after that—or—or would you rather not talk about it?"

  "I don't mind talking of it anymore, but I think you should rest right now," he replied.

  "I don't want to rest!"

  He shook his head at her stubbornness, but the cor­ners of his lips turned up in a smile. This was a part of Bettina that would always be there, like her maddening temper. But these were traits that made her what she was—the woman he loved.

  "Very well, little one. I had known Jules ever since I could remember, for he lived alone in the house next to mine, his parents having died years earlier. Fortunately, he was up the coast that night, and when he returned, he became my guardian. He helped me to bury my grief, but he could do nothing about the hate I harbored. Two years later, he and I left the village and traveled north until we came to a large coastal town with a harbor full of ships from friendly countries. Jules wanted to go to sea, and the only thing I wanted was to find Bastida. So we signed on with the first ship leaving, which was an English vessel."

  "And now your search is finally over."

  "Yes, but it was over before I came here. I never went to Spain. After only a week and a half at sea, I realized that I could forget the past, forget about Bas­tida, all because of you. I turned the ship around and sailed for home. I knew then that you were the only one who mattered to me. I love you, Bettina, so much that it hurts. I should have realized it the first time I left you, when I had desire for no other woman but you. You have become a part of me, and I can't live without you."

  "Oh, Tristan, I have prayed to hear you say this!" Bettina cried, tears of joy coming to her eyes. "When I was brought here, I thought I might never see you again. And now you are here, telling me you love me as I love you."

  "You will never be rid of me, little one. I was a fool to leave you to go in search of Bastida; only I realized it too late. Jules came after me in your father's ship and found me on my way home. When he told me what had happened, we came straight here. For two days I could think of nothing but killing Bastida. But then my thoughts were replaced with fear that he might harm you, or that you might not be here. Even then, knowing that I was on my way to finally face Bastida, it was only you I could think of. But it is all over now. The past is dead. We will never be parted again, my little French flower, and we will be married as soon as we reach home."

  Chapter

  They didn't reach home until the end of October, for Tristan delayed their departure from Santo Domingo until Bettina had regained her strength. They made one stop, however, to purchase what was needed for the sugar crop, because Tristan didn't plan on leav­ing the island again for a very long time.

  But now they sailed into a little cove, with Casey's ship trailing close behind. Bettina stood on the deck of the Spirited Lady, with Tristan's arm wrapped around her waist, and baby Angelique asleep in her arms. She was staring at the horned mountain in the distance, for it was as it had been the first time she saw it, shrouded in thick gray clouds, but with one shaft of the sun's rays lighting its heart. She felt as if the mountain were wel­coming her home, telling her that she would find only happiness here on this little island. She smiled and leaned closer to Tristan.

  Casey and Jossel greeted them before they even reached the house. Jossel was crying tears of relief, and Casey slapped Tristan on the back, telling him he had been confident that his daughter would be saved, which was an outright lie, for he had been worried sick.

  Angelique was awakened by all the noise, and she started to whimper, bringing herself to everyone's atten­tion. Jossel took her granddaughter from Bettina's arms and exclaimed over her beauty. And she was a beautiful baby, with tiny little golden curls falling over her fore­head, and wide blue eyes, the same color as the sky in the morning.

  "Seems she's taken after her father," Casey remarked, peering over Jossel's shoulder at Angelique as Jossel led them into the hall. He turned around to Tristan, who followed behind with Bettina. "I heard you were convinced for a while that the babe wasn't yours." Casey laughed, a twinkl
e in his light-green eyes. "Would you still be in doubt?"

  "The babe is mine, as is her mother," Tristan replied firmly.

  Jossel smiled. She could see how proud Tristan was that Angelique had his coloring. She didn't have the heart to tell him that Bettina's hair had been this same yellow-gold before it turned white-blond a few months after her birth. But at least the eyes were unmistakably Tristan's.

  Madeleine came running from the kitchen and burst into tears when she saw Bettina and her baby. Maloma joined them with her baby snuggled in the crook of her arm, and Jules, after greeting her, went down to the cellar to bring up flagons of rum to celebrate the home­coming. Bettina hated to leave the cheerful group, but Angelique was beginning to fuss for a feeding. She took her from Jossel, who was disappointed to give her up so soon; then Bettina started for the stairs after tell­ing Tristan she wouldn't be long.

  Tristan watched her go, his eyes glowing with love. But then Casey thrust a tankard of rum into his hand with a hearty laugh.

  "I warned you that you might be havin' a daughter, that I did," Casey said. "Perhaps you can understand now why I kept you from Bettina, but then maybe it's too soon for you to be feelin' what a father feels for his daughter. And then again, maybe you won't be around to see that little one grow." Casey grinned. "Will you be there to chase the lads away from Angelique, or will that be left for me to do in my old age?

  "I'll be there, you sly old fox," Tristan replied, grinning. "And I'll be even worse than you when it comes to protecting my daughter's honor. And you can stop worrying about your own daughter, Casey, because I am marrying her today."

  "I knew you'd come around, lad, that I did," Casey said with a chuckle. Then he turned to his wife. "Did you hear that, Jossel? They'll be wed today!"

  "But Bettina has no wedding gown!" Jossel said. "I want my daughter to have a proper wedding that she will always remember."

  "I'll take care of the gown," Tristan said.

  "Good, it's settled, then," Casey said.

  "But there is so much to do!" Jossel protested, con­sidering that things were going along much too quickly. "The wedding must wait—at least a few days—to give me time—"

  "No!" Tristan said adamantly, causing Casey to laugh boisterously.

  "I give up," Jossel sighed, throwing her arms up in the air. "There is nothing left for me to do but see to the preparations for a feast."

  And then Jossel smiled, for even though this day was not as she had always dreamed it would be, it was nevertheless what her daughter wanted. Bettina would marry the man of her choice, and she was happy. And this, of course, was all that mattered.

  "It is all settled," Tristan said when he came into his room, finding Bettina playing with Angelique on the bed. "Casey has gone to bring Father Hadrian." He joined her on the bed lying on his side with Angelique between them, but when he looked at Bettina, he was surprised by her saddened expression. "Are you having doubts about marrying me, little one?"

  "Of course not! You know how much I love you."

  "Then why aren't you as happy as I am?"

  "I am," she said faintly. "It is just that I wish I had a white gown to wear."

  "You will have," Tristan replied, lifting her chin up with a finger. "Jules will bring it up shortly."

  As he said it, Jules came through the open door carrying a large trunk that he set down at the foot of the bed. Bettina recognized the trunk immediately, and she turned to Tristan, who was glowering at Jules.

  "I asked you to wait until I had a chance to tell her, blast it!" Tristan said angrily.

  "Well, her mother insisted I bring it up from the cellar right away. She said the gown needed to be laid out to ease the wrinkles," Jules replied. "If you'll look at Bettina, you'll see you've worried for nothing."

  Tristan turned to Bettina and could see the happiness on her face. She leaned over and kissed him tenderly.

  "So you lied to me about leaving all my trousseau behind," she scolded, but a smile played gaily on her lips.

  "It was only for your sake that I did so," he replied quickly. "You needed something to keep you occupied while on my ship, and making a new wardrobe was the perfect solution."

  "But why didn't you let me have my trunks after you brought me here?"

  "How would you have reacted at that time if I had?"

  She laughed, knowing full well she would have been furious. "So that is why the cellar door was always locked—so I would not find out that my trunks were there."

  "Are you angry?"

  "No, beloved. I wanted a gown, but I did not want to delay our wedding day to make one. You have settled the problem. Is this why you refused to give me the white satin when I asked for it?"

  "No, I just couldn't stand the thought of supplying you with material for a gown you would wear to wed another man. I guess I loved you even then."

  "But I made this gown for the same purpose. It doesn't bother you now?"

  "You made that gown to marry a man you had never met. I am that man."

  Bettina slipped away from the celebration to give Angelique her last feeding for the night. She went to Jossel's room, for at her mother's insistance Angelique had been moved into her grandparents' room for the night. She was wide awake when Bettina came into the room, gurgling playfully in her little cradle. After being awake most of the evening, there was a good chance that she would sleep soundly until morning, and Bettina anticipated spending an undisturbed night with her husband.

  She fed Angelique silently, lost in happy thoughts of the day. She was remembering how beautiful the wed­ding had been, the words that had bound her to Tristan, the expression on his face, the love she saw in his eyes. It was a day she would remember forever, and the best was yet to come.

  With Angelique nourished and fast asleep, Bettina laid her back in the cradle and quietly closed the door. Tristan met her at the bottom of the stairs, and without giving Bettina a chance to bid everyone a pleasant night, he grabbed her hand and pulled her playfully back up­stairs to their room. He picked her up before he opened the door to carry her inside, then kicked it shut behind him. When they were alone, his movement slowed as if he wanted to savor each second with her.

  The soft patter of rain could be heard outside the windows, and a cool, fragrant breeze stirred the cur­tains, bending them in a rounded arc like the canvas on a ship. Tristan set her down gently in the middle of the room, barely able to see her in the darkness. His fingers fumbled with the bindings on her wedding dress, and finally she had to push his hands away to do it herself, for Tristan was like a nervous young lad about to en­counter his first taste of love.

  Without speaking, for words were unnecessary, Tris­tan moved to light a single candle; then he turned back in time to watch Bettina step out of her satin gown and remove the rest of her garments. He could hardly be­lieve that she was his and that at last he would have her again. This last month, he had refrained from taking her, giving her a chance to recover completely from childbirth. He had looked forward to this moment as if it were the first time he would have Bettina, and he smiled now, thinking how foolish he had been to fear marriage. For having Bettina as his wife, knowing that she was bound to him forever, filled Tristan with an inexplicable contentment. He loved her beyond reason, and knowing that she loved him, too, gave him a con­stant feeling of euphoria—he'd never dreamed he could be this happy.

  Seeing the candlelight shimmering on Bettina's ivory skin as she stood with her back to him letting down her hair, Tristan undressed quickly, throwing his clothes aside in his haste. When she turned around, they stood transfixed for a long moment, looking into each other's eyes.

  "I love you so much, Tristan," Bettina murmured. A dreamy smile was on her lips as she clasped her hands behind his neck.

  "Has my spirited lady been tamed, little one?" he asked teasingly.

  "Very much so," she replied, her eyes like shining sapphires in the candlelight. "Will you rniss her?"

  Tristan's eyes gleamed with love
when he answered. "Turbulent waters are an adventure to ride, but I pre­fer to sail calm seas. The vixen is gone, and in her place is my wife."

  Tristan's lips found hers then, and he kissed her fervently. And with his mouth still burning against hers, he picked her up and carried her to his bed. There, in a burst of passion that consumed them both, their bodies mingled and their love soared to ecstatic heights.

 

 

  Johanna Lindsey, A Pirate's Love

 

 

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