Pirate's Daughter, Rebel Wife. June Francis

He reddened. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be talking to you about such matters …’ His voice trailed off and he looked even more embarrassed.

      Bridget lowered her eyes and toyed with her fingers. ‘Does the captain go with women?’

      Joe placed the tray on the chest and made for the door. ‘No, he steers clear of them. There was a woman he once loved, but she was in love with his closest friend.’ Joe looked guilty. ‘The captain would have me hide if he knew I was gossiping about him. Now you eat your fish and bread.’

      Bridget gazed down at the pure white fillets swimming in a creamy herb sauce as if in a daze. ‘What kind of fish is it?’

      ‘Forget its name, but it has a real ugly head. Anyway, you’re not going to have to look at that because I chopped it off.’

      ‘Did you catch it yourself?’ she asked.

      Joe grinned. ‘Aye. Captain’s too busy to go fishing. Time’s money and he reckons the winds will be blowing in the right direction soon to take us to Lisbon.’

      The lad’s words made Bridget feel almost as desperate as she had felt when she had dropped into the sea. ‘Tell me, Joe, what is your captain’s name?’

      ‘We call him Captain Mariner.’

      ‘Mariner?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘But that is simply another name for a sailor.’

      Joe nodded. ‘Aye, the captain was an orphan like me, so he chose his own name.’

      Bridget supposed it made perfect sense. ‘And what’s your surname, Joe?’

      ‘I’m Joseph Cook because that’s what I am. I’ll leave you now, mistress, to enjoy your meal.’

      After Joe left, Bridget forced herself to eat whilst she mulled over what he had told her. If the captain had naught to do with women, it meant that she was safe from any advances from him. She wondered about the woman he had loved and recalled the expression in his eyes when he had looked at her earlier. He was all man and no doubt could have made many a woman happy. She regretted speaking to him the way she had done now. He must have been deeply hurt when the woman had preferred his friend. Somehow she had to overcome his misgivings about her and convince him that it would serve him well to take her with him on his ship to Lisbon.

      Harry stood outside Bridget’s bedchamber. He had calmed down and now regretted upsetting her. He should have taken her sufferings into more consideration and considered his words before he spoke. But he had spoken honestly when he had told her that she was beautiful. He desired her and wanted her for himself, but for the moment he had to keep those feelings under control. She was penniless, far from home and her situation was unlikely to improve if Callum was at the bottom of the ocean along with Harry’s ship and its crew. She might speak of friends in England, but that country was thousands of miles away. Her beauty, as she had said, was a hindrance rather than a help, and she needed protecting from other men. He could see only one way of ensuring such protection and security for the future. But if she knew him for who he really was, then she might reject his suggestion. If it were not for his beard, she might possibly have guessed who he was by now.

      How long before she realised he was deceiving her? He had not actually lied to her when he’d told her that Black Harry no longer existed but she had reacted to the news as he intended, by believing that he had meant he was dead. Harry had always hated being called Black Harry and no one had called him by that name for years, so in a way he did no longer exist. Now Harry, as his alter ego, Captain Mariner, needed to apologise to Bridget McDonald if he was to lay his plan for their future before her. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his knuckles on the panel of the door and asked for permission to enter.

      ‘Of course, Captain Mariner, do come in,’ invited Bridget.

      Perhaps he should not be surprised by the sweetness of her tone, aware how desperate was her situation. He half–expected to find her lying on the bed, resting, but she was standing in front of the statue of the Madonna and Child. He cleared his throat. She turned and their eyes caught and held, and he guessed she was trying not to show how nervous she was of him.

      ‘I hope you will forgive me for having spoken words that were hurtful to you?’ said Harry quietly.

      Bridget did not drop her gaze, but her insides were quivering. ‘I, too, spoke out of turn earlier, Captain Mariner. I really am grateful for all you have done for me and I really do need your help. If I had any money, I would pay you to take me aboard your ship and provide me with passage to Lisbon.’

      ‘And what would you do when you reached Lisbon?’

      ‘I would hope that there would be an English ship whose captain would be generous enough to take me to London. I am sure my friends would willingly reimburse him for his trouble.’

      Harry frowned. ‘You cannot be as foolish as you sound, Mistress McDonald. I refuse to believe that you have forgotten already your earlier fears about the slave trader still searching for you. I deem what you really want is for me to take you all the way to England.’

      She blushed. ‘It would certainly be the perfect answer to my dilemma.’

      Harry muttered, ‘Sit down, Mistress McDonald.’

      She hesitated and he rasped, ‘I cannot sit down until you do and I’ve been on my feet for hours.’

      Hastily she sat on the bed. ‘You are busy supervising the loading of the sugar–cane harvest?’

      ‘Aye. All is nearly ready and I will be departing soon.’ He paused and was silent for so long that she thought he was going to refuse to take her. Then he took a deep breath. ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’

      ‘What kind of proposition?’ she asked warily.

      He frowned. ‘There is no need for you to look so apprehensive, but you are an attractive woman and could cause havoc on my ship.’

      ‘Joe told me that you—’

      He glared at her. ‘What did he tell you? ‘

      She changed what she had been about to say. ‘That you were an orphan just like him, so you chose your own name.’

      Harry said drily, ‘I don’t believe that was your first choice of words, but no matter.’ He paused, putting off the moment when he would put his proposition to her. ‘Would you like to know how Joe came to be in my employment?’

      ‘Aye. I know that he is fond of you and thinks you are the best captain he knows.’ She smiled.

      Harry scrubbed at his beard. ‘I found Joe being tormented by a couple of bigger lads down by the waterfront in London, so I took him under my wing because I knew what it was to have no one of your own to fight your corner. He’s been with me ever since. He’s like a son to me now.’

      Bridget felt a strange warmth inside her. ‘Surely you’re not old enough to have a son his age?’

      Harry gave a twisted smile. ‘A younger brother, then. I do not know my exact age, but I reckon I must have seen twenty–four summers.’ He paused. ‘How old are you, Mistress McDonald?’

      ‘It will be the eighteenth anniversary of my birth in a few months.’

      He nodded. ‘Then it is time you were wed.’

      Her mouth tightened. ‘You would tease me, Captain Mariner? What kind of man would marry a dowerless woman?’

      ‘I will marry you,’ said Harry simply.

      Bridget went still and was convinced that she must have misheard him. ‘I beg your pardon, Captain? I didn’t quite catch what you said.’

      ‘A marriage of convenience, Mistress McDonald,’ he said, meeting her gaze squarely. ‘You are a penniless woman alone in a foreign land and in need of a protector, and I have decided that a wife could be useful to me.’

      She was stunned by his suggestion. ‘I cannot believe you would wish to