“Well, if you are not, you soon could be, given a proper environment for fostering love. A sojourn alone with him could be just what you need. Isabella is of the same mind, but she wants you to be prepared.”
Kate might have continued the discussion, but settled for a simple thank-you and returned to her room to fetch her pelisse and bonnet.
As she waited for Deverill to return, she thought about her aunt’s sage advice and realized that she actually held a similar conviction. Bearing a child out of wedlock was out of the question. She would never force the label of bastard on a child. Which meant that becoming “enceinte” would take the choice of marrying Deverill out of her hands.
You should have considered that before demanding that he make love to you last night, you ninny—Was it only last night?
Her body answered for her. Her feminine places were still tender, her senses still overly reactive. Deverill’s mere look felt more intimate now, not to mention his touch. The lightest brush of his fingers on just her hand elicited an electric response in her body that was far outsized than was reasonable.
But worse, her thoughts were filled with him. And her feelings—Well, her feelings were a chaotic muddle, ranging from tenderness to triumph, from despair to hope and back again.
But the essential, irrefutable truth was, Kate realized, if she was not in love with Deverill yet, she easily could be. And a sojourn alone with him could push her completely over the edge. Now that they had made love, Deverill would undoubtedly return to his normal, irresistible methods of seduction, and she would have few defenses.
But perhaps she should welcome his passion. Perhaps after all, physical intimacy could inspire emotional intimacy, which could lead to love.
And if she wanted his love, she couldn’t worry so much about protecting her own heart. Instead, she had to focus on winning his.
—
Four brawny sailors, mounted and armed, accompanied them to St. Georges. Adhering to directions provided by the priest, they took the coastal road, which afforded occasional glimpses of the sea beyond thickets of pine and scrub bush.
During the drive, Deverill told Kate his plan for when they reached the pirate’s headquarters. “When we encounter Louvel, let me do the talking. And I will address you as Miss Wilde rather than Lady Katharine. We’ll likely be bargaining with him, and revealing that you are a wealthy noblewoman would only give him leverage.”
Kate nodded. “You would know best how to deal with him. It seems an improbable coincidence that you are acquainted with the very pirate I wish to hire.”
“Not too improbable,” Deverill countered. “Most corsairs in this region are Basque, but there are also Frenchmen who were drawn to America’s war with Britain by the lure of riches. Privateers made a very good living harrying the British fleet. The most notable was Jean Laffite in the Louisiana territory.”
“It is unfortunate that you are enemies with Louvel.”
Deverill grimaced. “Highly unfortunate. But he has always been driven by greed. I expect he can set aside his wounded pride if the reward is large enough.”
They then discussed what to offer Louvel for his services. Kate had brought ample funds with her, primarily in gold guineas, but had left it behind on the Galene since pirates might be inclined to take her money and provide nothing in return. Similarly, they had not written in advance, since knowledge of the shipwreck might inspire Louvel to conduct a search of his own before they could arrive to supervise the salvage.
“Some of your aunt’s jewelry may be recoverable from the wreckage, is that correct?” Deverill asked.
“Yes.” The villain who had blown up the Zephyr had absconded with most of the de Chagny treasure, but several of the priceless jewels were still missing and thought to be at the bottom of the estuary with the shipwreck. “Why?”
“If you are amenable, any items of worth we find could be additional payment for Louvel’s efforts. The prospect of finding treasure will serve to motivate him further.”
Kate frowned in contemplation. “It is probably too much to hope that I will ever see my father’s signet ring again.”
“Probably,” Deverill agreed.
Kate shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Locating the wreckage is all I truly care about. I will be satisfied if we can just find proof of the Zephyr’s identity.” Her voice lowered. “It seems a bit morbid to search for treasure among wreckage where so many people perished. Reportedly there were a dozen crew and passengers on board the Zephyr.”
Deverill made a scoffing sound. “Trust me, Louvel and his cohorts won’t be put off by a ship’s violent end.”
—
The seaside village of St. Georges was pretty and prosperous-looking, no doubt because fishermen supplemented their meager incomes with piracy. When they reached a certain street, Deverill drew the carriage to a halt and pointed. “That must be Louvel’s residence.”
In the distance, against a backdrop of blue sky and even bluer water, stood an elegant, storied mansion, built of beige stone with the ubiquitous red-tiled roof but obviously home to someone of stature and wealth.
Deverill ordered their entourage to wait there, in view of the house. If he hadn’t emerged in half an hour, they were to ride up to the door in a show of strength. Then, urging his pair of horses forward, he continued down the street, turned onto a sweeping gravel drive, and halted near
the carriage house.
As he helped Kate down, a warm salt breeze caressed her face but did little to quell the prickling of her nerves. Not knowing what to expect, she held her breath when Deverill rapped lightly on the door. A few moments later an elderly female servant admitted them and, without much curiosity, showed them into a perfectly genteel parlor that overlooked the sea.