It was an intense moment for Shona. Her breath caught sharply in her throat.

Suddenly he seemed enormous and very near.

‘Had I agreed to wed you, Shona, you would have had to accept my attentions.’

When she did not move away he lowered his head, his face close and threatening.

‘Shall I show you what you could expect?’

‘I'd rather you didn't,’ she said breathlessly.

His suggestive tone made her uncomfortably aware of the raw sensuality emanating from his long muscular frame, outlined in the closely fitted breeches and white shirt. A muscle throbbed in his neck where his shirt was open. A shudder ran through her as his gaze moved over her face, lingering on her soft full lips before dropping to make a leisurely study of the thrusting curves of her breasts beneath the clinging fabric of her petticoat.

She was unable to move away as his fingers gently brushed the droplets of water away from her cheek.

Running his hands up her arms, quietly he said, ‘Come, now. A kiss is all I want.’

Shona turned liquid inside at the meaning she read into his words.

AUTHOR NOTE

Today the Caribbean, dotted with myriad islands, offers many blissfully unique experiences for the most discerning traveller. But things were very different in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when pirates infested the seas. This made me wonder what it would have been like for a European girl born into a powerful family who had chosen to make a Caribbean island their home. The island of Santamaria, which appears in MISHAP MARRIAGE, is my own creation.

Shona McKenzie, who had lived all her life on Santamaria until she was sent to England to be educated, is adventurous, full of life and not afraid of making daring decisions. Her upbringing has given her a resilience that is equal to that of Carmelita, her Spanish sister-in-law, who, yearning to reign supreme over house and island, and jealous of Shona's long-standing influence, wants rid of her. Resentful of her sister-in-law, Shona cannot call upon her brother, Carmelita's doting husband, for support, so she must make her own way or be forced into a marriage not of her choosing—which is why she selects the powerful and devastatingly handsome shipping magnate Zachariah Fitzgerald for a husband when he weighs anchor in Santamaria's harbour.

Zachariah is instantly attracted to Shona, but he isn't looking for a wife. Compromised and coldly sacrificed, Shona is an innocent victim in the hands of her sister-in-law, who employs cunning and duplicity to get her off the island. Shona's brother insists Zachariah marries his ruined sister. Zachariah refuses. Each resorts to dishonest practices in order to find a resourceful solution to a difficult situation.

This provides the basis for the emotional conflicts that my protagonists must resolve when Shona, bent on revenge after Zachariah cruelly deserts her on their wedding night, follows him to London.

Read on and enjoy.

Mishap

Marriage

Helen Dickson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

HELEN DICKSON was born and lives in South Yorkshire, with her retired farm manager husband. Having moved out of the busy farmhouse where she raised their two sons, she has more time to indulge in her favourite pastimes. She enjoys being outdoors, travelling, reading and music. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure. It was a love of history that drove her to writing historical fiction.

Previous novels by Helen Dickson:

THE DEFIANT DEBUTANTE

ROGUE'S WIDOW, GENTLEMAN'S WIFE

TRAITOR OR TEMPTRESS

WICKED PLEASURES

(part of Christmas By Candlelight) A SCOUNDREL OF CONSEQUENCE FORBIDDEN LORD SCANDALOUS SECRET, DEFIANT BRIDE FROM GOVERNESS TO SOCIETY BRIDE MISTRESS BELOW DECK THE BRIDE WORE SCANDAL DESTITUTE ON HIS DOORSTEP SEDUCING MISS LOCKWOOD MARRYING MISS MONKTON DIAMONDS, DECEPTION AND THE DEBUTANTE BEAUTY IN BREECHES MISS CAMERON'S FALL FROM GRACE THE HOUSEMAID'S SCANDALOUS SECRET* WHEN MARRYING A DUKE … THE DEVIL CLAIMS A WIFE THE MASTER OF STONEGRAVE HALL

*Castonbury Park Regency mini-series

And in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:

ONE RECKLESS NIGHT

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter One

1800

There were few on the tiny island of Santamaria who did not raise their heads to the dull boom of the signal gun announcing the arrival of a vessel approaching its shores. The ship came out of the clouds, her sun-bleached sails gleaming white in the brightness of the day. The sound of the gun stirred the sailors and islanders out of their lethargy in the smoky whitewashed taverns and brothels of the small town to come to the quayside and watch as the immense merchant brig, studded with thirty-two cannon, was guided into the arms of the verdant cove to her goal.

The number of curious onlookers increased as the ship sailed closer and waited as the sails were dropped and the vessel coasted to an easy berth at the pier in the deep harbour. Above the noise of the gulls cavorting overhead, the quartermaster could be heard barking orders to the men on deck as they played out ropes as thick as a sailor’s biceps and the gangplank thudded into place between ship and shore. The crowd of onlookers were quiet, and all focused on the captain, who was the first man to step ashore.

‘Dear Lord!’ John Singleton, the trusty first mate, remarked, squinting his eyes against the sun as they swept the crowd. ‘The reception committee is impressive, I’ll say that for Santamaria. After weeks of ship’s biscuit and salt meat, my stomach craves roast beef and obliging young beauties.’ He doffed his hat and grinned at a delicious creature at the forefront of the crowd, with caramel skin and a veil of smooth black hair that hung to her waist.

The captain sent his first mate, who had the reputation of an incorrigible seducer of women, a wry, assessing glance. ‘In that order, I trust, John.’

‘In that order,’ John affirmed, the wench’s provocative smile having turned his blood to honey.

The third man was dressed in black frock coat, grey wig and black shoes, which were quite old, and his grey stockings sagged. His black breeches were wrinkled and shiny with age, as was the frock coat. The man, known as the Reverend Cornelius Clay, looked like a huge, disgruntled bear that had just come out of hibernation. He noted where Singleton’s eyes lingered and scowled. ‘Have a care, Singleton. That one has a married look about her.’

‘Aye, that she does. Ah well, it’ll make the chase all the merrier.’

‘We’ll take a look around,’ the captain said. ‘Santamaria belongs to a man named McKenzie. He’s a man of some education and the son of Colin McKenzie—the man who made Santamaria what it is today. Apparently there’s a cruel streak to young McKenzie and his harsh treatment to anyone who dares threaten his authority has made him a man to be feared. His word is law on the island, but he has the reputation of being refined and accommodating. It will be interesting finding out just how accommodating he can be for the time we have to spend on the island.’

The reverend looked with interest at the ale houses. ‘Thanks to that damned hurricane we have repairs to make—and stores to replenish. How long before we can be under way, Captain?’

‘Not too long. At a stretch we can afford two weeks, no more. We’re already delayed. We’ve got a schedule to keep.’

* * *

Just past the hour of siesta, Shona McKenzie rode her horse over the hills and through the cane fields, happy to be away from the house and Carmelita, her sharp-tongued sister-in-law, and she intended to stay away until it was time to prepare for the evening meal. Several sailing ships swayed at anchor in the cove and closer to shore small boats skimmed the water. Antony, her brother, often invited officers from the visiting ships to dine at the house, giving Shona and Carmelita the opportunity to gown themselves appropriately and entertain them.

Looking ahead of her, from that vantage she had a good view of the shimmering island. All around her was a luminous expanse of jewel-blue sea, shading to lighter green as it met the reefs on the Atlantic side. Wave after wave of rich green vegetation mounted to tree-covered heights, which stood out against a sky of cloudless blue. The land ran down over two promontories that, like embracing arms, almost encircled the island’s one deep beach of almost-white sand stretching for about half a mile.

Leaving the cool of the high ground behind, she headed towards the large cluster of buildings that hugged the cove. Having seen the brig sail into the harbour, she was as curious as everyone else to know who it belonged to.

Ships plying the islands of the Caribbean, trading fancy silks, baubles and other produce of Europe for the raw material of the islands, put in at Santamaria on a regular basis, but a merchant vessel of this size had not been seen in months, so its appearance was a remarkable event indeed. Not until she was close enough to read its name emblazoned on its prow—Ocean Pearl—did she realise who it belonged to.

It was the shipping magnate, Captain Zachariah Fitzgerald, the merchant-adventurer worth thousands, one of the most powerful men in the Caribbean. It was said he owned large tracts of land in Virginia and had a fleet of ships, with warehouses in every port. There were rumours that he had shadowed dealings with pirates and others, that he had been a pirate himself, but, fact or legend, Shona had no way of knowing.

Caribbean society had been abuzz with stories of the enigmatic adventurer ever since he first docked in the colonies some years ago, but despite his reputation as a hard-headed businessman, the local society complained that he rarely made appearances at their genteel gatherings. The second son of an earl, on the eventual demise of his father, his elder brother, Viscount Fitzgerald, would inherit the vast estate in Kent, so Zachariah Fitzgerald had left England to wrest his fortune from the untamed sea.

The quayside was an animated scene, alive in a chaos of sight and smell and the laughter of ragged children. Idle sailors loafed about and drab strumpets quite boldly hawked their wares for a shilling or two. Shona shuddered at the squalid scene. At least she had an existence above this. What did it matter that she was neither loved nor wanted as a member of her own family.

As was always the case when Shona McKenzie rode into town—or entered any company—she became the focus of everyone’s scrutiny, male or female. Accustomed to it, she ignored it, and after a moment everyone turned away. Shona was able to observe the activity on board the ship above the heads of the crowd. A man appeared, followed by two others, and by his manner Shona assumed him to be the captain of the vessel.

Tall and full of flare, from his large hat with a quivering white plume in its brim, long scarlet frock coat and roll-top boots, with the easy, sprightly stride of a seasoned seaman and his companions in his wake, Captain Zachariah Fitzgerald strode along the pier to the shore, his long coat flaring about his legs.

The crowd melted a pathway before him as he marched through them. From her place in his path, Shona had a clear, uninterrupted view of him. Her heart fluttered and an indescribable awe—or fascination—came over her as she stared at him. His face under the wide brim of his hat was strong, striking, disciplined and exceptionally attractive. In fact, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. His expression was cool and guarded. Perhaps thirty years old, he was tall and powerfully built, exuding virility and a casual, lazy confidence. The dusty white trousers he wore that disappeared into his boots seemed to emphasise the muscular length of his legs.

Shona knew full well that a lady ought not to be seen in the town alone, knowing also what was expected of her as the sister of the most prominent man on Santamaria, but today she disregarded the conventions of society and the rules laid down by her brother and her father before him in favour of her own wishes. She hardly noticed anyone else. Her attention was entirely focused on the man walking in her direction.

As he walked he surveyed the onlookers with a lazy interest, his attention suddenly arrested by the stunning young woman astride a white horse. His gaze settled heavily on hers. Shona forgot her manners and stared back. Something communicated from their eye contact and the chaos about them seemed to recede in the strangeness of that first moment of meeting.

The message conveyed from one to the other had a warmth, a recognition, and Shona was conscious of a feeling of disorientation, which surely was not usual in the circumstances.

A slow smile of lazy interest curved Zack’s lips. She was a vision he struggled to grasp as reality and it was all too much for his first mate, who was smitten. Behind Zack, Singleton flushed with pleasure and stumbled in a parody of a bow. Amused by Singleton’s weakness and telling him to pull himself together, then coming to a halt directly in front of her, Zack surveyed the young woman’s fine figure, lovely heart-shaped face and big green eyes. Her long golden mane tumbled down her back, exotic, full of life, and Zack noted how the fair tendrils twined over her delicate shoulders. She wore a light blue dress, which covered her horse’s flanks and revealed more of her shapely sun-kissed shins than was considered decent—not that Zack was complaining. He never had been able to resist a beautiful woman.

For her part, Shona was beginning to feel a little foolish, knowing full well that riding astride, dishevelled and showing a fair amount of bare leg, was hardly how young ladies in England behaved. But then, the four years she had spent in one of the best schools in that country, which had dealt with tedious niceties and courtly manners, had bored her to distraction.

And here she was being stared at by a thoroughly magnetic and compelling man, a man whose direct and confident gaze made her heart beat faster—though that, in small part, might have been due to the hot tropical sun having addled her wits.

As she held his stare, unable to look away, she marvelled at what fascinating eyes he had. They were lively and a piercing silver-grey—eyes that seemed to trap and hold the light. She detected a sparkle of amusement in their depths as he perused her, not quite successful in masking his roguish astonishment.

‘My dear young lady.’ Stepping back, he swept her a negligent bow—which Shona thought a tad mocking. ‘Zachariah Fitzgerald at your service.’ One brow arched, his eyes remained on hers. ‘May I say you are a sight for sore eyes.’

Shona stared at him. His voice was deep and throaty, like thick honey, a seductive voice that made her think of bodies and those erotic engravings in the French books she and her friends had loved to pore over at school, and all kinds of highly improper things. It seemed to caress each word as it came out, she thought, and there couldn’t be many women who could resist a voice like that. If it met her mood, she could enchant and charm any man, but instinct told her this man was not one of the insincere young roués seeking to extend their reputation at her expense.

‘I am?’ she said warily, tilting her head. ‘And how is that, pray?’

Zack frowned. Her self-possessed response surprised him. Her face was perfect, so stirringly beautiful and young. Her eyes were clear green, brilliant against the thick fringe of jet-black lashes. They stared back at him, open, yet as unfathomable as any sea he had ever gazed into. To find herself confronted by a group of ogling sailors who hadn’t laid eyes on a woman in weeks—and certainly not one who looked like she did, which brought home to him the starvation of his own long and forced celibacy—he’d expected her to blush and lower her gaze at the very least. She did neither.

‘By the Holy Blood, young lady,’ he murmured, moving close to her horse and giving it a friendly stroke, his hand suggestively brushing the bare flesh of her leg, ‘you’re a handsome enough piece to tempt any man. I’m mighty flattered to have made your acquaintance. Had I known Santamaria was inhabited by such beauty, I would have made a point of sailing into its harbour sooner. I would like to invite you on board my ship so that we might become better acquainted.’

Amused in spite of herself by his high spirits, yet disliking his attempt at flirtation, Shona raised a full, arching brow at him. ‘That would be highly improper, I’m afraid, Captain. I also think that you should remove your hand from my leg before I find yet another use for my whip.’

The roguish glint that must surely be what had charmed half the females in the Caribbean made his eyes dance with silver lights. ‘I am disappointed that you are so unaccommodating. What can I do to make myself more agreeable to you?’

‘I told you. Take your hand off my leg.’

Reluctantly he slid his hand away, but he continued to stand there, appraising her.

Shona’s flesh burned from his hand’s caress. Suddenly, his direct masculine assurance disconcerted her. She was vividly conscious that all eyes were upon her and of his close proximity to her. She felt the mad, unfamiliar rush of blood singing through her veins, which she had never experienced before, not even with Henry Bellamy, the handsome son of a duke back in England whom the whole school had been in love with. Instantly she felt resentful towards this captain. He had made too much of an impact on her and she was afraid that, if he looked at her much longer, he would read her thoughts with those brilliant, clever eyes of his.

‘You have a smooth tongue, Captain, but save your breath. I am not so easily won over. Santamaria belongs to my brother, Antony McKenzie,’ she said, giving him a haughty look. ‘I am Shona McKenzie, his sister.’

‘Then I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss McKenzie.’ Zack was familiar with the name and this young lady’s fabled beauty. Her father had been known in most circles. In that of young men, Shona McKenzie was often the topic of heated debate. She was the ice maiden, unattainable, the heartbreak of many a youth and the professed goal of many more.

He was unfazed by her identity and his smile widened across his beautifully chiselled lips, his white teeth flashing against the bronze skin. His dark eyes gleamed with devilish amusement as he contemplated her as if seeing her anew. Shona could only mark the resemblance he bore to a swarthy pirate.

‘Your island is most beautiful and extremely fertile, I hear. Your brother seems to have made the most of it.’

‘The credit is down to my father—Colin McKenzie. He made it what it is today. When he died my brother carried on his work.’

As if on cue, at that moment the crowd separated to make way for an elegant barouche occupied by Antony McKenzie and his Spanish wife, Carmelita, her face shaded by a dainty parasol. Carmelita was the only daughter of a wealthy Spanish merchant. Spoilt and overindulged all her life, while Shona was in Europe Carmelita had met Antony when she had visited Santamaria with her father. After a brief courtship they had married—which Shona considered was Antony’s undoing.

The carriage halted beside Shona’s horse and Antony, wearing a conspicuously well-cut coat and immaculate linen, climbed out, his expression as he glanced at his sister one of severe disapproval. Finding her on the quay without a chaperon, with tarts and men who had rolled out of the taverns, her hair and dress in disarray, he considered her behaviour unworthy of her birth and breeding and with total disregard to his position on the island.

At thirty-five years of age, Antony was tall and fair-haired, distinguished-looking rather than handsome. He was shrewd and calculating and unbending, a man who would do anything to wrest what he wanted from life. In four months’ time Carmelita was to be delivered of their first child—a boy, Antony hoped, to carry on after him.

Antony’s stern features were set in an unsmiling expression of severe disapproval as he regarded his sister.

‘Might I suggest you go home, Shona. It is unbecoming for you to be in town unattended.’

Meeting his exacting eyes, Shona felt her face burn at his public censure. ‘I was about to do just that, Antony, until I saw the ship. I simply had to be here when it docked.’

Antony turned from her and faced the newcomers, his disagreeable scowl quickly replaced by a smile of welcome.

With sharp, cold eyes Carmelita surveyed Shona’s flushed face, taking in her unbound hair and dishevelled appearance at a glance. She leaned over the side of the carriage to speak to her with her eyes narrowed like a cobra about to strike. ‘Just look at you, Shona—you are inappropriately dressed and your hair is all over the place,’ she said with quiet reproach, her voice heavily accented with Spanish and her eyes as dark and cold as a Scottish loch.

‘That’s because I’ve been riding, Carmelita.’

‘Madam,’ Captain Fitzgerald said coolly, ‘the young lady is not deserving of criticism. She is by far the comeliest maid I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.’

Carmelita opened her mouth to utter a harsh rejoinder, but seeing the hard look in the captain’s clear eyes, she closed it quickly. She smiled a bitter smile, tempted to inform him that Shona McKenzie was the Devil’s own child, but thought better of it. Shielding her face from him with her parasol, she continued scolding her sister-in-law. ‘You’re growing quite impossible, Shona!’

‘I’ll try to be better,’ she promised in a matter-of-fact way.

Carmelita’s cold stare stabbed Shona with deadly equality. ‘Are you mocking me?’

‘Of course not, Carmelita. I wouldn’t dream of it.’ The best way to deal with her sister-in-law, Shona found, was to ignore her when possible and treat her with cool civility when not.

Carmelita gave her one of her dangerous looks. ‘You seem to have a predilection for mixing with seamen and the common folk. It is not how a well-brought-up young lady should behave—how your brother wants you to behave. You are nothing but a liability. How dare you embarrass Antony in this manner. You really should know better.’

Shona tossed her head, her chin thrust out with defiance. Certainly she owed it to Antony to treat Carmelita with polite deference, but filial duty only went so far. Antony said his wife was headstrong, which, Shona thought with asperity, was too nice a word for the woman. Grasping, shrewish and on occasion even vicious was how she would best describe her.

‘Please leave it, Carmelita,’ she replied with chilling politeness, returning her attention to Antony, who was introducing himself to Captain Fitzgerald. ‘I hardly need you to remind me how to behave. I answer to my brother, not you.’

‘Don’t be impertinent, Shona. You’ll get yourself talked about.’

‘Is that so? No more than I am already.’

Carmelita seemed to recognise her limit, for she said nothing else on the matter, but the toss of her head with haughty Latin arrogance told Shona that it was not forgotten.

Antony introduced himself and his wife to Captain Fitzgerald and welcomed him to the island. The captain did likewise, presenting his first mate and the reverend—slightly stressing the word reverend.

‘Aye,’ Singleton explained with a merry twinkle in his eye as the reverend sidled off to the nearest waterfront tavern. ‘The captain considers it necessary to have the crew’s spiritual needs taken care of on a long sea voyage.’

Antony nodded, not having noticed that there was anything untoward in the first mate’s words. ‘And does he keep their spirits up?’

‘Oh, aye—when there’s enough faith aboard.’ And enough rum aboard, he almost added, but thought better of it.

‘When I was informed of your ship entering the cove,’ Antony said, addressing himself to the captain, ‘I thought I would come and greet you myself. I have heard of you, of course. Your name is well known throughout this part of the world.’

The captain raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed? You flatter me, Mr McKenzie.’

‘Your ship looks as if it has taken a battering.’

‘A few days out of Virginia a storm blew—by ill luck the severity of which was quite exceptional in those latitudes for this time of year. We were blown over two hundred miles off course and lost the convoy we were with. The damage you see is minor and can soon be mended.’

‘Where are you bound?’

‘Martinique—and then London. Rather than delay for another month or even two, awaiting the gathering of another convoy, I will take my chance on being able to catch up with the one I was parted from.’

‘Very wise,’ Antony agreed. A merchant vessel as large as the Ocean Pearl, weighted down with cargo, would be lucky not to attract the attention of privateers of all nations. Not by the score, but by the hundred they swarmed in both European and American waters. In consequence, except for especially fast ships, a system of convoys had long been organised.

‘We’ve put in for a general replenishing—to take on supplies and fresh water—and then we’ll be on our way. I am indebted to you, Mr McKenzie.’

‘You are most welcome, Captain Fitzgerald, and still more so if you will accept my invitation to dine with us tonight—while you give me news of what is happening in the colonies. I do have newspapers delivered from Virginia and London—old news is better than no news at all—but there’s nothing like hearing it first-hand. I shall send a carriage for you and Mr Singleton later.’

Captain Fitzgerald turned away, his gaze again falling on Shona still in the same spot. His eyes narrowed, half-shaded by his lids as he coolly stared at her. Something nagged at the back of his mind, telling him that she represented the worst kind of danger to a freedom-loving bachelor, warning him that there might be repercussions should he accept McKenzie’s offer to dine at his house, but she was so damned lovely he ignored the warnings.

Shona straightened her back, her chin moving slightly upwards in an effort to break the spell he wove about her with his eyes.

He threw her a salute, bowing ever so slightly, then headed off towards the town.

Without waiting for Antony to order her to be gone, Shona turned her horse about and headed in the direction of the house.

* * *

The evening was gentle and warm, with a soft quality known only on the Caribbean islands. Overlooking the bay stood Melrose Hill, the McKenzie residence, the long curved drive lined with huge coconut palms. Melrose Hill was a two-storeyed, sprawling white mansion. It was sheltered by the rise of the land and by the trees surrounding the house. Swathed in native flowers, a wide veranda ran the whole of its length, riotous colours of frangipani and bougainvillaea clambering in profusion over trellising. The sun had already gone down behind the hills so the house was now in shadow, but a number of large lanterns had been lit along the veranda.

On entering a wide, airy hall, Zack was impressed. A long, crystal chandelier was suspended from the lofty ceiling, the shimmering prisms setting the hall aglow with myriad dancing rainbows.

The house smelled of resin and wax polish. Through the door into the dining room, finishing touches were being put to the large oval table by two dark-skinned footmen under the supervision of a mulatto major-domo.

The French-style furniture and gilt-framed paintings were elegant, and throughout the house rich Aubusson carpets, rugs from Persia, marble from Italy, lacquers, jade and ivory from the Orient and other treasures from around the world embellished the rooms. Floor-to-ceiling French doors opened on to the flower-laden terrace and the gardens at the back of the house, and filmy curtains wafted in the night breeze, cooling the stately dining room. In fact, the setting was as civilised and luxurious as any Zack had seen in the houses of noblemen who owned great estates in the sugar islands.

* * *

As she prepared for the evening, Shona sat at her dressing table as Morag painstakingly arranged her hair in an elegant coiffure. For some reason she wanted to look her best—could it be the extra guest Antony had invited? Her corset had been clinched tightly over the shift, pushing her bosom upwards until its fullness strained against the gossamer fabric. Everything was in readiness and equally blended portions of tension and excitement grew in Shona’s breast as she donned her gown.

The satin bodice was covered with lace, the scallops of which overlapped on to the bosom. The low sleeves were full, ending just below the elbow, and were attached to the bodice beneath the arms to leave the shoulders bare. A wide deep blue sash was tied about the waist and trailed in streamers down the back of the ivory lace and satin skirt.

‘You look grand,’ Morag remarked as Shona studied her reflection with a critical eye in the long mirror, giving a slight adjustment to the neckline. Miss Shona’s was that rare beauty which was almost never at a loss. If she could find herself a husband, she would stir his heart to burgeoning pride, if not open lust. ‘A sight for sore eyes you are.’

Shona smiled at the maid who seemed to have been with her family for ever. Born in Glasgow, Morag had come to the island as a young girl as maid to her mother. On her death she had transferred her devotion to Shona, and since returning to the island she attended to all her personal needs. ‘It’s funny you should say that, Morag. Someone else said the same thing to me earlier.’

‘Well now! Anyone I know?’ she asked, fluffing up the lace on the sleeves.

Shona lowered her head to hide the sudden flush that sprang to her cheeks, which the mere thought of Captain Fitzgerald brought about. Knowing she would be in his presence in just a short while caused her pulse to leap and a thrill to rush through her. Morag’s question summoned her back from her lovely reverie.

‘I’m afraid not—but we are expecting him to dine with us tonight. He’s the captain of the Ocean Pearl—Captain Fitzgerald.’

‘And is he handsome, this Captain Fitzgerald?’ Morag thought that he must be if the glow in Shona’s eyes was anything to go by.

Raising her head, Shona flashed a brilliant smile. ‘Oh, yes, Morag, he is very handsome. Very handsome indeed.’

‘Then it’s a good thing you’re looking your best.’

Morag was fastening the tiny buttons down the back of her dress and they failed to note Carmelita’s entry into the chamber.

‘Are you finished, Shona?’ Carmelita enquired sharply, concealing her envy as she glanced at her sister-in-law in her stunning gown.

Morag quickly fastened the last button, then stepped away and quietly disappeared from the room.

Carmelita was petite and sultry, with long black hair and deep brown eyes. Ever since Shona had returned from England to find Carmelita married to her brother, they had never got along. When they had first set eyes on each other, Carmelita’s back had stiffened, her shoulders arched and her hair had seemed to bristle. Like a cat, Shona had thought. A suspicious, angry, threatened cat.

‘You made quite a spectacle of yourself this afternoon,’ Carmelita reproached, giving her an accusing stare. ‘Really, Shona, your want of conduct is embarrassing your brother dreadfully. He was most displeased.’

Shona stiffened at the rebuke, but she said nothing, knowing any argument would only make Carmelita more determined to be unpleasant. Carmelita resented the responsibility Shona represented and Shona resented her tyranny, but open hostility between them was rare. Much easier to endure, ignore and count the days until she could return to England.

‘If you insist on behaving so disgracefully,’ Carmelita continued, ‘I’m afraid Antony will have to ask you to refrain from visiting the town. Were you not his sister, you would never be welcomed in polite circles. It’s high time you put your mind to settling down instead of gallivanting about the island at every opportunity.’

The months of schooling her features into a polite mask around her sister-in-law were forgotten—the anger Shona was feeling showed clearly on her face. When she didn’t speak, Carmelita took a step towards her, her sultry eyes narrowing. ‘We cannot both run this house,’ she said, her voice holding a quiet, dangerous threat and resentment. ‘You must see that. I intend to be mistress in every sense and I will not let you stand in my way.’

While Carmelita was obviously willing to fight, Shona did not intend to make it easy for her. ‘You may rest assured, Carmelita, that I have no intention of marrying just to please you. Melrose Hill is still my home.’

‘Perhaps it is, but I am mistress here now. If you dispute that, then you know what you can do.’ She turned to the door. ‘The house is large, but not large enough for both of us. So don’t push me, you wretched girl, or you’ll find yourself without a home in short order. Much good your stubborn pride will do you then!’ In a swirl of light blue chenille, she marched across the room. ‘Here is Antony now.’ She gave her husband an exasperated look. ‘You speak to your sister, Antony. She won’t listen to me. The sooner she is wed with a husband and children to occupy her time, the better we shall all be.’

On that note Carmelita went out, determined to have her way in this. She meant what she had said. There was no room for two mistresses at Melrose Hill and, while ever the servants deferred to Shona, Melrose Hill would never truly be hers.

When Carmelita had left, Shona finally allowed her defences to crumble. Her shoulders slumped.

It was at times like this that she missed her father. The suddenness of his death had stunned her—even now she found it difficult to accept. He had seemed so full of life for a man of sixty-five. Yet however much she wished otherwise, he was dead and buried, for ever gone from her sight and company. She had sailed from England to Santamaria only to find on arrival that Melrose Hill was no long her home, her one sure haven. Having loved the time she had spent in England and missing the friends she had made, she was desperate to return and would do almost anything to bring that about. But she was honest enough to admit that her life on Santamaria could not be described as unpleasant.

Alone with her brother, she looked at him and decided to ask him directly. She looked into his eyes and said, ‘Are you as desperate as Carmelita would have me believe for me to marry, Antony?’

He hesitated. Shona saw regret in his face for a moment. Then his expression hardened and he said firmly, ‘Yes, yes, I am.’

His words nipped Shona’s pride and she stared at him, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes. He held her look. She saw that he meant what he said and she was deeply disappointed.

Sensitive to his wife’s condition and determined not to have her upset in any way at this time, heedless of Shona’s distress, Antony said, ‘It must be settled soon. You know what Carmelita is like. There will never be peace between the two of you, so I am of the opinion that it would be best if you were to leave. Ever since you came home you’ve been living a sense of reproach to Carmelita. Listen, Shona—’

‘No, you listen, Antony. You wouldn’t be talking about reproach if you hadn’t wed Carmelita. She called me a liability earlier. So I deduce that means she wants rid of me.’

‘Rid?’

‘Yes, rid of me, disable me, pack me off somewhere, anywhere, as long as it’s far away from Santamaria.’

Antony’s face became flushed with anger. ‘Stop this, Shona. There is very little I can do about your disagreements, is there?’

‘Except take her side.’

‘I don’t want to take her side. I don’t need to. I have a high regard for both of you. But Carmelita does have a point. Damn it all, Shona! Are you set to be a spinster who rejects every man that comes courting? You have the looks and the wealth to choose among the finest families in Europe and the Caribbean, but you dally like some dreamy-eyed girl waiting for her knight on a white charger who will never arrive.’

‘I am not a silly girl, Antony, and nor am I fanciful,’ she retorted sharply.

‘Be that as it may, the subject can no longer be put off indefinitely. John Filligrew is an unattached, wealthy young man who is smitten by you. He won’t wait for ever.’

Shona gave him a look of disdain. ‘Me and John Filligrew? He is personable, I grant you, and having known him all my life I am very fond of him and we are good friends, but I really would rather die a spinster than attach myself to him for the rest of my life. Let me go back to England, Antony. I would like that and I would be far enough away from Carmelita not to trouble her.’

‘Absolutely not! Father stipulated that you were not to return to England until you have a husband to take care of you. I intend to abide by that. I know what you are like, don’t forget. Away from my protection and without a husband to guide you, I shudder to think what you might get up to.’

‘Thank you for the vote of confidence,’ Shona said drily. ‘But I will not give up on this. I will go back—even if I have to wait until I am of an age when you no longer have any control over me. You could write to Aunt Augusta or Thomas and ask them to keep an eye on me,’ she suggested bravely. Thomas was their cousin, at twenty-nine he was six years younger than Antony and a minister of the church. As a boy and then a youth, he had visited them on Santamaria on two occasions with his parents, Aunt Augusta and Uncle James. Shona adored him and missed him terribly. She had so enjoyed seeing him when she had been in England.

‘As far as I am aware Thomas is having time off from his work, and, since coming out of mourning, Aunt Augusta is too involved with her social life to take charge of an unattached female. He gave her a hard look. ‘Before you go down to meet our guests, I must ask you not to anger Carmelita further.’

That look made Shona shrink. ‘I’ll try not to.’

Antony nodded as if there was no doubt about it.

Having had her fill of reprimands for one day, Shona brushed by him and proceeded along the long corridor to the stairs. She needed to reflect on her options before she took any further steps to resolve her future. One thing was certain. Things could not go on as they were. She had no illusions about her brother. Her greatest fear was that if she failed to find a husband of her own choosing to marry, he would find one for her.

Yes, she longed to return to London. She wanted to dance in ballrooms where gliding, beautifully attired couples waltzed about the floor. She wanted to shop in all the fashionable shops, to promenade in Hyde Park and have handsome bucks falling over each other when they turned to look at her. But, she reasoned with the hard-headed practicality that usually balanced out her dreamy side, she could not have any of that without a husband by her side.

Being in England with time spent in London had given her a taste for an independent life, but like most young women she was a romantic at heart and had long since accepted that she would have to marry eventually. She had no objection to this. Indeed, she welcomed it, providing she could marry a man of her choosing—a man she loved.

Chapter Two

Most wary of the extra guest, Shona made her way down the wide curved staircase with as much stealth as she could manage. At the entrance to the great hall, she halted, suddenly aware of the pounding of her heart. When her eyes focused on Captain Fitzgerald standing near the door, staring out on to the veranda, everyone else faded into the background. An odd, melting sensation came over her, a sensation that somehow made breathing difficult and made her heart race as if she had been running.

Attired in elegant evening dress and buckled shoes, with his height and sun-bronzed complexion, Captain Fitzgerald appeared highly conspicuous, standing there breathing vigour and vitality. He affected the company like a fresh wind. His curling hair, drawn back and held at his nape by a thin black ribbon, gleamed a deep burnished brown above a pristine white neckcloth and ivory brocade waistcoat, while his powerful shoulders filled his olive-green coat to perfection.

A rugged pirate in gentleman’s garb, Shona reflected.

His chiselled profile was touched by the warm light of the candles and the growing ache in her breast attested to the degree of his handsomeness. She observed him reach up to tug at his neckcloth as if it might be too confining and wondered if he might feel ill at ease in his formal attire. But he must have known how to conduct himself at social functions—or at least how to charm the female sex. As soon as they began to gather, he was surrounded by half a dozen ladies who were eager to make his acquaintance. Captain Fitzgerald greeted them all with an ease that could not fail to set their feminine hearts aflutter.

In an attempt to regain her serenity, Shona let out a slow steadying breath and entered the hall, bringing him about to face her as the heels of her blue slippers tapped against the oak floor. He wore an expression of utter boredom on his face, an expression that altered dramatically when his eyes met hers.

Excusing himself, a smile tugging at his lips, he moved across the hall with the grace and speed of a jungle cat. She could not take her eyes off the way he moved—his easy grace, the suppleness of his limbs and the oiled machinery of his body.

The way he carried himself made it easy to believe that all that was said about him was true. Power, danger and bold vitality emanated from every line of his towering physique. When he halted before her he bowed with a grand sweeping gesture. Then Shona met his eyes. At that precise moment she became convinced that there were no eyes in all the world that shone brighter than those which now smiled at her. As she stared into those translucent depths, it was easy for her to imagine a woman being swept away by admiration for him without a single word being uttered.

What the devil was the matter with her? What was it about this man that he should have this effect on her, she who had held in scorn all the gentlemen who had done their best to ingratiate themselves into her good graces?

Mentally casting off the spell he unwittingly cast, she scolded herself for acting as addled as a dazzled schoolgirl.

Smiling, he looked down at her while his eyes plumbed the depths of her beauty.

‘Welcome to Melrose Hill, Captain Fitzgerald. I hope you enjoy your evening.’

‘I am enjoying it already,’ he murmured for her ears alone.

Shona was used to the admiration of young men and though she liked it well enough—what girl wouldn’t?—Captain Fitzgerald was the first to stir her senses and capture her imagination. ‘What is your opinion of Santamaria? Is it to your liking?’

‘Very much so—from what I’ve seen of it.’

‘And how does it compare with Virginia?’

‘Very well. I do have some basic common knowledge of the colonies, but I’m from England, not Virginia, as you seem to have surmised.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know, but you do have connections there.’

Zack folded his hands behind his back and appeared to look thoughtful. ‘I do have a shipyard and warehouses in Virginia—indeed, it would be difficult for me to conduct my business without them, but my home is in London.’

‘And after Martinique, London is your next port of call?’

He nodded, having suddenly become fascinated with the advantage his height gave him. Standing a full head above Miss McKenzie, he had a very pleasurable view of what lay beneath her demure bodice whenever he chanced to look that way, which was rather often. The high swell of her creamy breasts was a tantalising sight for any man and Zack most certainly enjoyed this treat.

While he was speaking, other guests began to arrive—thirty all told, some officers of the vessels in the harbour and merchants who had made their home on Santamaria. One of the footmen announced dinner.

Carmelita turned to her husband. ‘We’d better go in. Captain Fitzgerald, will you bring my sister-in-law along?’ she urged as she took her husband’s arm and moved towards the dining room.

‘It will be my pleasure.’ Zack gallantly presented his arm to the golden-haired beauty, at the same time catching her hand and pulling it through the crook of his elbow, not giving her a chance to deny him.

Shona yielded rather than make a scene, but behind Carmelita’s back she glared up at him and hissed, ‘You are quite outrageous, Captain.’

‘Has anyone told you,’ he breathed, blithely ignoring her irritation as he bent his head near hers, ‘how beautiful you are?’

She lifted her slim nose to a higher elevation, avoiding any reply. Still, she could not quell the stirring of pleasure his words aroused. At the table, he held her chair as she slipped into it. Thoughtfully she watched him walk around the table to take a place opposite her. That was the moment she realised a solution to her future course of action might be staring her in the face, a solution that would enable her to cast off the shackles her brother had placed on her that bound her to the island. But could she bolster the courage to carry out the wild plan she had suddenly conceived?

* * *

With eyes cold and unrevealing, Carmelita observed the pair and the looks that passed between them. She was suddenly inspired. Of course, Captain Fitzgerald was the critical factor. If the two of them should form an attachment, the combination could be explosive. Her mind was racing. An expression of calculating scheming was pasted on her face and she was feeling a little breathless with excitement.

* * *

The dinner was a relaxed affair and extremely civilised, and at times seemed quite unreal. On the one hand the table appointments were elegant, the English fare Zack favoured excellent, the service of the footmen everything that could be desired—and the delectable Miss Shona McKenzie in his line of vision at all times.

Reflecting on her proposal that she intended to put to Captain Fitzgerald, Shona glanced at him. The decision made, her resolution seemed a fantasy, dreamed up by someone other than herself. But he was magnificent, exuding the kind of strength and masculinity that women found extremely appealing. He didn’t appear to be entirely at ease with Antony. His manner towards him was civil, but stiff, wary. However, he looked as if he had perfected the knack of making a woman feel special—he was bending close to Mrs Frobisher seated next to him, listening attentively and watching the elderly lady with those silver-grey eyes. The same eyes that had looked her over appreciatively earlier.

The conversation was about what was happening in Europe and America, combined with the usual supper-party trivia, leisurely and varied and well marked with ship owners’ diverse opinions on the interests of their profession, while the ladies discussed the various society magazines and fripperies that had been brought on one of the vessels. Shona was in animated conversation with the foppish John Filligrew, a boyishly handsome youth of twenty-one with high colour in his smooth cheeks and a tangle of coppery curls. But every now and then she could feel a pair of silver-grey eyes watching her with a predatory stare and her head would turn and her eyes would meet those of Captain Fitzgerald.

‘In a domain such as this,’ Antony said in answer to a question Captain Fitzgerald had just posed about the early days of the island, ‘my father established a great many duties. Bringing slaves and bondsmen to the island, he supervised the clearing of the forests, sold the timber and prepared the fields for cultivation. We now have cane fields and our own vessels to transport the commodities. There is also the rearing and tending of our livestock. In fact, we grow and rear everything we require.’

‘I understand you have land and properties in Virginia. With all there is to do on the island, do you find the time to go there?’ Zack enquired, his long fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass.

‘I go whenever I am able, but on the whole, like my father before me, I employ reliable people to oversee and run things for me.’

‘Antony,’ Carmelita said from the opposite end of the table to her husband. ‘I’m sure Captain Fitzgerald doesn’t want to hear all this.’ She smiled at Zack. ‘I’m sorry, Captain Fitzgerald. My husband does tend to talk business all the time.’

‘Please don’t apologise. I’m overwhelmed by the abundance on such a small island.’ His eyes flicked to Shona and a slight smile curved his lips. ‘In fact, I find it so appealing that I am tempted to reside here myself.’

‘And you would be welcome to do so, Captain,’ Antony said. ‘If you can find the time before you leave, I would enjoy showing you the island.’

‘Thank you. I would like to take you up on that. Are you not troubled by buccaneers, Mr McKenzie? The number of outlaws and castaways infesting the Caribbean has increased considerably of late. I marvel that you have not been driven out.’

‘We should have been on several occasions had we not taken precautions against being caught off our guard.’

‘Such as?’

‘In several places along the shore, I have men living who would give me warning of the approach of any hostile body.’

‘And you can count on their loyalty?’

‘It is not a case of counting on their loyalty, but their greed. I pay each of them a wage for doing nothing, which of course would cease if I were driven out, and any of them who brings me a timely warning knows that he will receive enough money to keep him in idleness for years. Santamaria also has its own defence. As you will have seen for yourself, the leeward side of the island is sheltered from the full force of the trade winds, so that the waves of the Caribbean lap easily on the shore—unlike the rest of the island and the high cliffs, which have no defence against the wind-driven rollers of the Atlantic. I have men stationed to defend the island at all times. It’s a brave pirate who will attempt to sail his ship into the cove.’

The conversation was interrupted when a footman poured more wine. Zack looked across at the delectable Miss McKenzie still in conversation with John Filligrew, his head bent close to hers as he whispered some confidence in her ear. Zack experienced a flash of completely unfounded and unexpected emotion, a white-hot surge of jealousy unlike anything he’d ever felt for any lover he’d ever had. He wanted to rush over and pull the man away, to tell him he had no business leaning in so close, no right to get so near to her—this woman he had never met before today.

She was talkative and vivacious, with a lilting voice that was like music to his ears after six weeks at sea without female companionship. Her expression was endlessly fascinating as she smiled, frowned and wrinkled her slightly freckled nose and rolled her eyes. Looking up, she caught his eye and he had the odd feeling that she knew what he was thinking.

‘Have you always lived on the island, Miss McKenzie?’ he asked.

‘Yes, except for the time my father sent me to England to be educated.’

Zack looked at her, musing as he stared. He was wrong in his initial assumption. Despite being raised in this place, so far from the corrupting influences of civilisation, she had been exposed to them after all.

Shona noticed how incredibly light his eyes were in the flare of the candles. It was impossible not to respond to this man as his masculine magnetism dominated the scene. A curious sharp thrill ran through her as the force between them seemed to explode wordlessly. He watched her, his eyes alert above the faintly smiling mouth, and she promptly forgot John Filligrew.

Faceless numbers of suitors whom Shona had cast away loomed upwards before her consideration. Not one of them had stirred a spark in her blood, yet Captain Fitzgerald was able to make her heart beat with a sweet wildness that stirred her very soul. All the while his gaze was upon her she grew flustered and cast about her as she swallowed a glass of wine and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. Captain Fitzgerald’s incendiary eyes scorched her over the flower arrangement.

Finally Antony slid his chair back. ‘I shall look forward to hearing more about Virginia, Captain Fitzgerald. May we at least have the pleasure of your company until you leave the island?’

‘Indeed you will.’

With the signal that the dinner was at an end, the ladies reconvened to the drawing room, where coffee was served, while the gentlemen remained to drink the port imported from Spain that had been Shona’s father’s drink of choice. In search of clearer air, her mood listless and dreamy, Shona went out on to the flower-laden terrace and walked along its length. The delicate tropical fragrances filled the warm air.

Glancing to the trees beyond the garden brought back memories of those distant days she would walk there with her father, when the trilling of birds filled the air and the soft flutter of moss dripping from the trees would brush against her face. She could even imagine the whiff of his spicy cologne and the smell of leather and horses on his clothes. However brief those recollections were, she was pierced by a longing so profound that it was all she could do not to cry out in anguish.

Now the evening was laden with the sound of chirping crickets, of blended voices drifting from the house. A languid breeze gently swayed the branches of the trees, rustling their leaves and sweeping the fragrance of sweet shrubs on to the terrace. Her mind occupied with her musings, she stared out across the shadow-mottled lawn and sighed. Suddenly a footfall sounded behind her. A dark shadow moved close to her and she was engulfed in a cloud of fragrant smoke. Her heart fluttered in her throat. ‘Oh,’ she uttered softly. ‘I thought I was alone.’

‘Your pardon, Miss McKenzie.’ The deep, rich voice of Captain Fitzgerald sounded concerned. ‘I did not mean to startle you. I was merely taking my pipe in the open air before I return to my ship—but be assured—to discourse with a beautiful woman on a moonlit night on a tropical isle is a pleasure beyond compare. Does the smoke bother you?’

Feeling her heartbeat quicken alarmingly, Shona was amazed by the effect his sudden presence was having on her pulse rate, but she was resolved not to let it show. She stared, trying to penetrate the dark shadows that hid his face. ‘Not at all. Enjoy your pipe at your leisure. I rather like the smell of tobacco. It brings back poignant memories of my father. He used to enjoy a pipe on occasion.’

‘A natural enough habit. They grow tobacco in Virginia. The Indians taught us how to smoke it.’

‘So I understand.’

‘If I am intruding, I will leave you.’

‘No,’ she said quickly, ‘please—you don’t have to go.’

He nodded. ‘Very well. I will stay.’

‘How long do you intend being on the island, Captain?’

Stepping out of the shadows, he looked at her through the wreath of smoke that curled from his pipe. ‘One week at the most.’ His hand cradling the bowl of his pipe came out and in a brief span the long stem swept the moonlight to encompass the rolling hills beyond the trees. ‘And then I must leave all this and return to London.’

Tilting her head on one side, she met his eyes. ‘You sound regretful. But you will return, will you not?’

‘At some point. Would you care to talk?’ he invited, propping his shoulder against the wall of the house and holding her gaze with his own.

Shona leaned against the trellising. ‘About what, Captain?’

The answer was slow in coming. ‘Anything.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Whatever would please you. Why don’t you begin by telling me something about this charming island you call home? I know that originally the Spanish claimed it for the Spanish crown and christened it Santamaria.’

‘That was so. They formed a small settlement and the islanders earned a living by hunting the wild cattle and hogs that overran the island and selling the smoked meat to passing ships. But eventually they vacated the island in favour of the larger islands in the Caribbean. It became a haunt for pirates until it was seized by the British and my father acquired it from the Crown.’

‘He was English?’

Shona shook her head. ‘He came from Scotland. When he was a small boy his father, who was a cattle rustler, was hanged for his crimes from the great tree in Inverary. Orphaned and determined to make a better life for himself and those who came after him, he moved south. With an agile mind and being quick-witted, he soon grasped the way of money, borrowing money for ventures and succeeding where others failed. Soon those he’d borrowed from came to him—merchants and aristocrats alike.’

‘That was some achievement—the actions of a man driven by his ambition.’

‘Yes, he was, but he was also a man of principle and nobody’s fool. From an early age he was determined to succeed.’ She remembered her father telling her how he’d acquired stately properties, country estates and huge tracts of land both in Britain and in the colonies. ‘His success earned him respect, but much as he yearned to be accepted into the higher ranks of society, he was rejected. He was thirty-five years old when he married my mother—the daughter of a country gentleman—and secured Santamaria from the Crown.’

‘And they decided to make it their home.’

‘On their first visit to the island they fell in love with it. They were so taken with it, and found that the climate suited them perfectly, that they decided to settle here. Soon, with every reasonable amenity available, and forming a cultured and charming small society of merchants on the island, my father built a house to outshine any of their friends who lived in London. Sadly, my mother didn’t live long enough to enjoy it. She died of a tropical fever shortly after giving birth to me.’

‘That must have been hard for you—being deprived of your mother at such a young age.’

‘It was, although I was too young to remember her.’

‘And you were close to your father?’

‘Yes,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I adored him. When I went to England he visited me there. When he left and came back to the island he became ill. I never saw him again.’

‘I’m sorry. Your life must be pretty limited on the island—your social life stilted, hidden away from the world.’

‘I’m not, not really. I love the island and the life here—but sometimes I feel like a bird in a cage unable to fly free,’ she said on a note of regret. ‘I loved England and the time I spent there. I made lots of friends, girls I went to school with. One day I will go back—soon, I hope. But you are right. Visitors to Santamaria are few and far between.’

‘Then it’s a crime, living here without connecting to the outside world.’ His stare tracked her with an intensity that she could feel from the short distance that separated them. ‘You should be in Virginia or London, being worshipped by wealthy young planters or noblemen and dancing till dawn.’

She stared at him in the gloom, flattered and quietly thrilled to think he thought enough about her to voice his opinion on what he thought was best for her, even though she hated the idea of leaving Santamaria for good. She was wildly encouraged all of a sudden to think that if he liked her so well, then surely he would help her. He was clearly a gentleman, no matter what the rumours said about him having dealings with pirates.

She would ask him now. Her excellent instincts told her that she could trust this man. ‘What would you say,’ she began slowly, ‘if I asked you for a favour?’

‘A favour?’ His eyes narrowed in sudden wariness. ‘What sort of favour, exactly?’

Her eyes held his and her confidence did not waver, though her heart was in her throat. Squaring her shoulders, she said, ‘Tell me—are you married, Captain Fitzgerald?’

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘Would you take me to England?’

Zack sighed heavily, knowing he could not. As lovely and womanly as she was, he knew he’d find it difficult to conduct himself with the sort of gallantry his mother might expect of him. Shona McKenzie was very much a lady and the consequences of dallying with sweet innocents ensconced on his ship could affect his life in a most permanent fashion.

‘The Ocean Pearl is a merchant ship, Miss McKenzie. I’m sorry. There are no suitable accommodations for passengers.’

‘I’m not talking about being a passenger, Captain Fitzgerald. Would—would you consider marrying me?’

‘Good God’ was all he said, otherwise he simply stared at her, into her hope-filled emerald eyes.

Somewhat heartened that she hadn’t been refused outright, Shona went on, ‘Before you give me your answer, perhaps I should mention that my father left me a substantial inheritance and—’

‘Please don’t go on,’ he interrupted, raising a hand to stop her. ‘I believe I understand. Forgive me if under the circumstances I don’t know the appropriate response—perhaps I am expected to say that I am honoured—you see, it’s the first time in my life that I’ve been proposed to. Is that why you asked me to stay, Miss McKenzie?’ he asked crisply. ‘To soften me so you could ask me this?’

She lowered her head at the question and nodded. ‘Yes, it was.’

He cursed softly, shoving himself away from the wall. How dare she presume to know what kind of man he was, to take advantage of his feelings and his desire for her, which he had not bothered to hide. With his thumb, he tamped the coals into the bowl of his pipe. His hands were large and, though they appeared to have the strength to break anything they had a mind to, they were amazingly gentle—the slim clay pipe seemed like a fragile bird between them. Taking a leather pouch from his pocket, he shoved the pipe inside and placed it back in his pocket.

‘My name is Shona,’ she said, trying to drag him into a familiarity that he did not desire.

Zack took a deep breath, praying he would wake up and discover this was part of some strange dream. Too late, he knew he should never have accepted Antony McKenzie’s invitation to dinner. The danger had been too great. He should have stayed away and tried to forget he had ever met the lovely young woman on the quayside. He didn’t need this kind of trouble. He could have availed himself of the company of any of the women on the seafront, but, oddly, he hadn’t quite felt in the mood for the full-blown temptresses he usually favoured. Somehow Shona McKenzie had wheedled her way under his skin. He should have stayed with his ship and sailed with the tide for the next island, as his instincts had warned.

‘Why are you so intent on marrying me? There must be enough unattached wealthy males on the island you could marry.’

‘No, not one,’ she replied.

‘Then do you see me as a ticket off the island? Is that it?’

Uncomfortable with both the question and the penetrating look in his eyes, Shona averted her gaze, fixing it on the dark perimeter of the garden. Captain Fitzgerald was a stranger and she found it difficult to discuss her present circumstances with him. How could she tell him how unhappy she was at Melrose Hill, that she missed her father desperately and the house in which she had been born and raised was no longer the home she knew—and that the only way she could escape Carmelita’s acid tongue was to marry and leave the island for good?

‘Yes,’ she admitted fiercely. ‘I want to leave the island. Antony is fiendishly protective of me and will not allow me to leave unless I have someone else—a husband to take care of me.’

Zack put his hands on his lean hips and regarded her coldly. ‘If your options are limited, then you will have to keep looking, Miss McKenzie. It will not be me. Absolutely not!’

Shona moved closer to him, not really knowing what she intended, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Turning her face up to his, she licked her lower lip, a softness entering her eyes. ‘I...can’t persuade you to change your mind, Captain?’

He gave her a hard look, his mouth tightening as he stared at her softly heaving bosom and the tantalising mouth that was full and soft and trembling, trying to ignore the mute appeal in those large, luminescent eyes, seeking refuge in his anger. She might look fragile, but he was beginning to suspect she was as strong as steel inside.

‘Devil take it, I will not be persuaded or manipulated into marriage, not even to a woman as lovely and bewitching as you, Miss McKenzie,’ he said, refusing to be moved. Normally he steered clear of entanglements with females of marriageable age or any females who might place demands on him, preferring instead the more honest and uncomplicated relationships with women of lower class and of lower expectations. It was the easiest way, he had learned from experience. A brief encounter back in England with a woman who had attracted him for a short time had left him shackled by bonds that could never be broken. He was not about to repeat the mistake.

‘I am a man who has made his own choices for most of my life. As much as I would like to appease my manly appetites with you, I will not, like some lapdog, blandly accept your proposal of marriage. Next time you decide to throw yourself at an experienced man of the world, tread lightly or you will not survive. I’m not termed a pleasant sort. I have a foul temper which can snap up naïve young ladies like you without a second’s notice. So be warned, Miss McKenzie. Do not tempt it. When and if I decide to marry, I prefer to do the asking myself.’

‘I...thought that...’

‘What?’ he jeered, ignoring the way the colour drained out of her soft cheeks as he continued with deliberate brutality. ‘That if you let me take advantage of you—I might be swayed.’

He seemed enormous and very close. His powerful body emanated heat, matching the heat that was rising in her cheeks. ‘I—I don’t know.’

‘Life isn’t like that. I have kissed many women I have been attracted to, but that doesn’t mean to say that I wanted to marry any of them.’

Shona was conscious of a sudden surge of anger, realising just how stupid and naïve she had been. ‘You may be used to kissing ladies all over the place, but I do not have your experience,’ she told him with simple honesty, giving Zack further insight into just how truly innocent she was.

‘Nevertheless, you were misguided to think I would marry you.’

‘I should tell you that my dowry is quite substantial.’

Zack’s entire face instantly became hard, shuttered and aloof. He looked her over carefully, as if to judge her for her worth, and appeared dubious as his brows snapped together and a feral gleam appeared in his narrowed eyes as they locked on hers with angry disgust.

‘Now you do insult me,’ he said, his voice so controlled that Shona felt an icy chill sweep down her spine. ‘I cannot be bought, either. I have no need of your money. I have plenty of my own. However large your dowry, Miss McKenzie, what makes you think you are worth it?’

Shona gasped, her humiliation complete. ‘Now it is you who insults me,’ she flared, a fresh surge of anger rising up inside her like flames licking round a dry log, furious with herself for being stupid enough to think he might help her.

‘If you have so much money, then what you do should not be a problem. You’ve had life handed to you on a silver platter. What more could you possibly want?’

‘Liberty,’ she cried passionately. ‘Freedom to do as I choose. Creature comforts are not all that matters to me.’

‘If you imagine that marriage will give you freedom, then think again. You will find yourself bound by shackles of a different kind. But if that’s what you want, then go ahead. You can live where you choose or buy yourself another husband—which shouldn’t be too difficult. You have other assets to your credit besides your substantial dowry,’ he ground out with suave brutality, his insolent, contemptuous gaze raking over her. ‘Another ship bound for England will drop her anchor in the cove before too long with some other fool on it for you to marry.’

Captain Fitzgerald’s jibe, savage and taunting, flicked over Shona like a whiplash. Stung to anger by his harsh words, hot colour flooded her cheeks and her soft lips tightened as she exerted every ounce of her control to keep her temper and her emotions in check. Stiffening her spine and lifting her small chin, she looked at him directly. Zack saw her put up a valiant fight for control—a fight she won—and she looked as regally erect as a proud young queen. Her eyes frosted over.

‘I understand you perfectly, Captain Fitzgerald. You are a devil—a barbarian, a callous barbarian—and I am sorry I approached you. We will say no more on the matter. I will trouble you no further and I thank you for your time.’

When she tried to sweep past him, his strong hand spun her around. ‘Barbarian? Believe me, Miss McKenzie, you have no idea how much of a barbarian I can be. You don’t want to be my wife, I assure you,’ he said, his voice rumbling soft above her like distant thunder.

His hold on her arm tightened. Slowly, with menacing deliberation, he backed her against the balustrade. His grip wasn’t overly painful, but the casual strength exerted in his fingers startled her. His other hand rose to grasp her chin, but Shona turned her face away, eluding capture. When his hard fingers at last closed over her jaw, she gasped in alarm.

‘Let go of me. You are hurting my arm. I can’t fight you. You are much stronger than I.’

Zack stared down at her. He hadn’t missed the flare of temper in her eyes, or the fear. He clenched his teeth in frustration. Impatiently he released his hold on her arm, his hand unintentionally brushing her breast. He was instantly aware of the contact, and so was she. He could tell by the furious blush that flooded her cheeks.

Shona tried to ignore the effect of his touch. ‘I asked you to let go of me,’ she uttered icily. ‘Remove your hands from my person.’

It was a supremely correct response, just the kind Zack would expect from a woman of her social standing. Perhaps he could turn her reticence to his own advantage.

‘I will do precisely that,’ he said, deliberately running his fingers along the side of her breast, ‘when I have made you realise your mistake in thinking you could manipulate me into marriage.’ Releasing his hold on her chin, with grim satisfaction he saw her flinch. He bent closer, his face dark and threatening and like granite in the moonlight. ‘As my wife you would be at my beck and call and I could take you any time I pleased. I would take my pleasure of you whenever I wanted. Shall I show you how I would assert my husbandly rights?’

Dimly, Shona saw his mouth slowly descending to hers. He put an arm about her waist and pulled her to him, moulding her body against his. Her legs felt weak, the back of her knees aching. As she gazed into his hard face, some lambent protective instinct cried a warning that she was getting in too deep. Panicked, she turned her face away a scant instant before his lips touched hers, her breath coming in rapid gasps as if she was running. Undaunted, Zack tipped her face back to his and lowered his mouth to hers. He assaulted her lips with a controlled expertise that left her gasping, engulfing her in a heady scent of brandy and tobacco. She was too surprised to resist and hung limp in his embrace. With no protest forthcoming he asserted pressure, his kiss growing more dedicated to strengthening her response and nearly devouring her lips in a tantalising frenzy.

His plundering, devouring kiss sent Shona spiralling off into a hot darkness where nothing mattered except his seductive, urgent mouth and knowledgeable hands. Overwhelmed by his raw, potent sexuality, she fed his hunger, her parted lips welcoming the thrusting invasion of his tongue, the sensations inside her mouth like tight buds that burst into blossom, filling her with splendour. She felt as if her whole being would melt, but her heart began to drum a faster rhythm as his fingers continued to stroke the side of her breast in a leisurely, erotic caress. From a low level of consciousness there grew a vague feeling of pleasure and, had the circumstances been different, she might have enjoyed the hard, wickedly masculine feel of his body against hers. But she reminded herself that he was doing this to abuse her, to demonstrate his power over her, to subdue her into a quivering wreck.

Trailing his warm lips over her cheek, Zack felt himself weakening in response. Devil take it, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. This wasn’t working. He was losing the battle for control.

Shona sensed his struggle. Through the haze in her mind, she heard him groan softly and, with an abruptness that left her swaying, he tore himself away. He stood there, staring down at her in silence as if seeing her for the first time, his look a mixture of pain and pleasure and anger. She was glad for the support of the balustrade against her back. Otherwise she might have fallen, her legs were so weak.

‘Why did you do that?’ she whispered. Her emotions seemed to be all over the place and a rogue tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

Zack hardly knew why himself as he looked at her standing there, teary-eyed and vulnerable. And lovely. By God, she was so lovely. He wanted her with a fierceness that stole his breath. His mouth tightened as he stared at her softly heaving bosom and the tantalising mouth that was still full and hot from his angry kisses. Lifting his hand to wipe away the tear, he drew back when she wrapped her arms around her waist, as if trying to protect herself from him. His jaw hardened, trying not to feel as if he were abusing a stray dog.

‘Don’t be concerned, Miss McKenzie,’ he rasped, his voice low and harsh in the silence, ‘that my barbaric display will be repeated. I won’t touch you again. I have enough troubles on my plate just now without adding to them by taking a wife. I bid you goodnight.’

Striding into the house in search of his first mate, intending to leave right away, he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. The vexing tide of anger which had consumed him began to subside. Only the ragged pulse that had leapt to life in his throat attested to his disquiet as he looked ahead with feelings of regret. Miss McKenzie’s proposition pounded inside his head, combining with the torment of his own harsh rejection, and he wondered how she had managed to make him feel such a cad for refusing her.

Dear Lord, she was a magnificent creature, but heaven help the poor devil who got landed with her as a wife. He liked his women quick-tempered, spirited and with fire in their veins. It made for a satisfying and exciting relationship, but Shona McKenzie with her bullheaded stubbornness would not only need a husband as strong-willed as herself, but with the patience of a saint.

* * *

Shona stood looking out over the garden, shaken by what had just happened and the trend of her own thoughts. Nothing in all her twenty years could have prepared her for Zack Fitzgerald. His kiss had sent an explosive thrill crashing through her body. Her heart had raced with guilty pleasure. And this, heaven help her, was exactly what she had wanted from the man she chose to marry. Often she had dreamed of such a kiss, but this, her first, made those insubstantial dreams seem the shadows they were, the reality of flesh on flesh causing a delirium of delight. His lips had been warm and moist, caressing her own, pressing, probing, firm, growing more and more insistent, demanding the response she instinctively gave.

Her large green eyes swam with unaccountable tears, which she instantly dabbed away as earlier she had dabbed red wine from her lips—perhaps she had drunk too much wine. To say that she was aghast by her behaviour was an understatement. When she had fired her maiden salvo over the bow of convention and picked up her battle flag for liberty, she had not imagined Captain Fitzgerald’s fierce reaction to her proposal. It seemed impossible to her now not only had she proposed marriage to him, but had practically demanded that he do so.

She was still musing on what had occurred when she realised the shadows surrounding her were empty. Without a word or a stir of air, he was gone. Only the lingering smell of tobacco smoke was left to remind her that he had been here.

She wasn’t sure whether her anger and fierce disappointment was due more to his rejection of her proposal or because she was still left with the dilemma of her future. But whatever it was, it would be an evening etched in memory and emblazoned in her heart for all time.

One thing she was certain of—Captain Zachariah Fitzgerald was the last man in the world she would ever marry.

* * *

Carmelita had seen Shona go out on to the terrace. When she did not return, curious as to what was keeping her, she went to find her. Another survey of the gentlemen taking after-dinner drinks with Antony showed her that the captain was also absent.

She went in the direction of the terrace, peering into the moonlit garden. Standing in the shadows, she saw Captain Fitzgerald walk along the terrace and into the house. His face was expressionless, his jaw set hard. Keeping out of sight, she saw him stride into the house and heard him ask one of the servants as to the whereabouts of Mr Singleton. A few minutes later the two of them left.

Leaving the terrace, she came face-to-face with Shona. Her sister-in-law shot Carmelita a guilty look and went to join the other ladies without a word. The look in her eyes—what was it? Anger? Hurt? Disappointment? Carmelita was unable to tell, but whatever it was it told its own story.

She closed her eyes to hide the feral glitter in their depths, her thoughts upon how to bring the two of them together and ultimately get Shona off the island for good.

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