The Pirate's Daughter. Helen DicksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
is putting it mildly,’ he ground out.
‘I know—but I promise not to make a nuisance of myself. In fact, I promise you will hardly be aware of my presence.’
‘That I very much doubt.’ Placing a fist to his temple, John turned away, slowly becoming resigned to the fact that he had no alternative but to let her remain for the present. Turning his back on her, he strode to the window. Of medium height and reasonably attractive—although his features were too thin to be described as handsome, his dark brown hair lightly sprinkled with grey—he stood for a moment in silent contemplation before turning to face her once more.
Her deep blue eyes bright with expectancy and warmth, she presented a perfect, delightful vision of womanhood in the centre of the room, but beneath the slim, rounded beauty she was as spirited as a young colt. She possessed a certain wilfulness—a disquietingly headstrong quality, which called for firm handling. John was a strong-minded, experienced man of the world, but he hadn’t known how to hold his young cousin in check, and with cynicism he wondered if there was a man who could. No man would better her or bridle her free spirit.
‘You are not the kind of woman it is easy to ignore. I long ago ceased to be amazed by anything you do, Cassandra—and you always did have the ability to adapt to your surroundings. However, it appears that the fact that you have incurred my deep displeasure weighs little with you. Is it your wish to embarrass me by coming here?’
Cassandra composed her features gravely and shook her head dutifully. ‘No, John. That was not my intention. I was miserable and lonely. Meredith wasn’t there and wouldn’t be back for weeks. I—I came because I wanted to get away from England for a while. I—I had to, you see,’ she murmured hesitantly, quietly.
Cassandra did not know that her expression had changed, that reverie had brought a sadness to her face which John quickly interpreted. His eyes turned cold. ‘Could your leaving, by any chance, possibly have anything to do with Nathaniel Wylde?’ He was unable to hide his scorn. His dislike of the man, the outlaw who had sired Cassandra, ran deep.
Cassandra looked at him steadily, engulfed by a deep despondency, for thoughts of her father and the cruel manner of his death awoke turbulent emotions inside her. ‘Nat is dead, John.’
Totally unprepared for this pronouncement, John stared at her in astonishment. ‘Dead?’
‘Yes. He was captured and hanged at Execution Dock on the day I left London.’
Quickly and without emotion she related the events of her father’s last weeks, of which John was totally unaware. He listened to her in silence, a mixture of feelings passing over his face. Only when she had fallen silent did he speak.
‘Then I cannot say that I am surprised. He got what he deserved.’ When he saw the pain his words caused Cassandra, he placed his arm tenderly about her shoulders and drew her down beside him on to one of the divans.
‘I apologise if that offends you, Cassandra, but I never made any secret of what my feelings were regarding Nathaniel Wylde. When my own father died, followed so quickly by my mother, and he reappeared in your life, I was unable to refuse to allow him to see you. But I did so most unwillingly. I know that after living under the strict rule of my mother’s household, being with your father was like breaking out of prison.
‘But you let your love for him cloud your mind to the true nature of his character. After being denied access to you while you were an infant—and to appease his selfish desire to have you with him—he filled your head with things no properly raised young girl should listen to. He was a villain whose world was inhabited exclusively pirates—ruthless criminals, Cassandra, who deserved to hang for the crimes they perpetrated on others.’
His voice was quiet and sombre. Cassandra’s eyes narrowed and her lips compressed. She was hurt but not offended by John’s attack on Nat because, after all, he was only repeating what he had said many times in the past.
‘Yes, I know it is over, John, and for what it’s worth I have accepted it. But I was deeply affected and revolted by the manner of his death.’ Not wishing to incur his wrath further, she omitted to tell him that she had been present when Drum had sliced through the ropes securing the Dolphin to her moorings and had Nat’s body cut down from the gallows, but she was unable to keep from him the manner of her journey to Barbados. His anger reignited and his face suffused with angry colour.
‘By God, you came to the islands on a pirate ship? Arch-villain he might be, but I gave O’Leary more sense than to take you with him. He will pay for this. If I ever get my hands on him… And Captain Tillotson? Was he aware who O’Leary was—that he was a murdering scoundrel who should have hanged with his master?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Cassandra answered, her eyes going to Rosa perched stiffly on a chair across the room. The young woman’s cheeks flamed and her eyes had narrowed and gleamed with anger on hearing John’s scathing attack on her father. Thank goodness she didn’t say anything. She must have a word with Rosa when they were alone. Perhaps it would be best if John didn’t know she was Drum’s daughter. ‘Please, John, let the matter rest. Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters. While men such as O’Leary are at liberty to roam the seas at will, no ship, cargo or man are safe. All colonists who rely on the merchantmen to carry their produce live in fear that they will be attacked. It’s hardly surprising that they regard such men as common murderers and robbers and hold them in the deepest contempt. It is imperative that while you remain on the island no one must discover your identity and your involvement with O’Leary. How else can you stay here without becoming the subject of a scandal? I won’t have it, Cassandra. Do you hear?’
‘I’m sorry, John. I don’t want you to suffer on my account.’ Usually Cassandra knew better than to argue with him when he used that tone, but now she looked at him mutinously. ‘I’m not going home, John. I want to stay here with you. You will let me?’
‘You leave me with no choice. You and your companion can stay for the present—here in this house,’ he conceded, rising quickly. ‘I am often away for days at a time, in Bridgetown or meeting with plantation owners—on Company business, you understand.’
He looked towards the young mulatto woman who had emerged from the bedroom. Swathed in a heavy lime-green silk dress with a contrasting border worked in gold, she stood quietly watching them at the far side of the room, and Cassandra noticed how her cousin’s gaze softened when they rested on her.
‘Elmina will remain to take care of you. She—she is my servant—prepares my food—my clothes, you know, that sort of thing,’ he explained, coughing nervously and averting his gaze, becoming awkward and embarrassed suddenly, and seeming unable to look at Cassandra, who had risen from the divan and was watching him closely. ‘As you see the bungalow is small—though comfortable. You will find Elmina helpful. She will minister to all your needs and her English is very good, so that will not be a problem.’
‘There is no need for you to put yourself about on our account. Lady Courtly has kindly offered to let Rosa and me stay at the house. She is having rooms made ready as we speak.’
John’s relief was evident. ‘I see. That’s very gracious of Julia—and, yes, I suppose that would be for the best.’
Cassandra allowed her gaze to dwell on the mulatto woman. She had fine dark eyes and an abundance of lustrous short black hair. Her coffee-coloured skin was without a blemish, and her full ripe lips and slightly flattened nose showed her Negroid ancestry. She had a slumberous, languid grace, and possessed the requisite warm softness and the firm-fleshed litheness of youth, which was capable of awaking all too easily the carnality of the opposite sex. Having already guessed at the relationship that existed between her cousin and Elmina, Cassandra was surprised but unaffected by it. She smiled inwardly, for she could well see why John was so taken with her, and why he favoured the privacy of the bungalow to the house.
She knew interracial liaisons were not uncommon on the islands, giving rise to a mulatto population and creating a new class of coloureds. However,