Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(55)

“Worried about me, darlin’?” His words were flippant, but his look wasn’t. For a moment Silence thought she saw vulnerability deep in those black eyes. Then he looked away. “Ah, best not to worry for me, m’love. I’m a pirate and a pirate has but one end in this world.”

“What’s that?” she whispered, feeling dread.

A corner of his mouth kicked up. “Why, the end o’ a rope, what else?”

Silence shivered, though the sun’s rays were warm in the courtyard. She imagined him swinging from a hangman’s rope, his strong, lean body jerking in the throes of death. Something inside her couldn’t bear the thought. Michael O’Connor had once been her enemy. No one had ever hurt her as deeply as he had. What he’d done to her—to William and their marriage—could never be forgiven.

But that was before. Before she’d come to know him, before he’d come to know her, for that matter. She knew that he might be a very dangerous pirate at the present, but once upon a time he’d been only a boy, small and vulnerable and with no one to take care of him.

The fact was that some part of her would wither away should Michael O’Connor leave this world.

Silence wrapped her arms about herself. “That’s it, then? You’ll simply wait to be caught and hung?”

Michael cocked his head. “Oh, there’s no waitin’ about it, love. I’m livin’ a full and happy life, in case ye haven’t noticed.”

“Are you?” She watched as Harry threw a wooden ball he’d produced from somewhere on his person. Both Mary Darling and Lad started after the ball. “You have your men and your riches, but you have no family, do you? Is that all that you want out of life?”

He didn’t answer.

She turned to find him watching her intently.

Silence lifted her chin. “Well, do you?”

He shrugged. “ ’Tis well enough for many a man.”

“It seems very lonely to me.”

“Does it?” He stepped closer. “What about yerself, Silence, m’love? Ye talk about me family but what family d’ye have o’ yer own?”

She looked at him in astonishment. “What do you mean? I have quite a large family. My sisters, my brothers, and my nephews and nieces.”

Michael nodded. “Ye’ve brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. But ye don’t have a husband or children.”

Silence tilted her chin. “I have Mary Darling.”

“Is she enough?” He leaned over her until she could feel the heat from his body. “Someday she’ll grow up. She’ll find a man o’ her own and live apart from ye. Ye’ll be alone. Is that what ye want?”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she looked away. “I had a man—a dear, good husband.”

“And now ye do not.” There was no trace of compassion in his voice. “Will ye mourn him forever? Wear this dingy black until ye die yerself?”

He reached out and flicked the starched white collar of her gown.

She hunched a shoulder against him. He was too close, asking questions that made her too uncomfortable. “I loved William. You cannot understand it, I think, but he was my true love. The love of my life. I don’t hope to ever find another love such as he in this lifetime.”

She’d said the words so many times, the syllables were worn into her soul. She didn’t even have to think what they meant anymore. But were they still true? She shook her head in confusion. She didn’t want to be having this conversation with anyone, let alone Michael.

But his deep voice was relentless. “And without this true love ye’ll let yerself wither away, is that it, darlin’?”

“As I said, I don’t expect you to understand—”

“And I don’t,” he cut in. “Ye ask how I can live a life that I know will end with the hangman’s noose. Well, at least I am alive. Ye might as well have climbed inside yer husband’s coffin and let yerself be buried with his corpse.”

Her hand flashed out before she’d thought about it, the smack against his cheek loud in the little courtyard.

Silence had her eyes locked with Michael’s, her chest rising and falling swiftly, but she was aware that Bert and Harry had looked up. Even Mary and Lad had paused in their play.

Without taking his gaze from hers, Michael reached out and grasped her hand. He raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed the center of her palm.

He looked at her, her hand still at his lips. “Don’t take to yer grave afore yer time, Silence, m’love.”

Her heart was beating so fast that she was breathless. She could feel each exhale he made on her palm.

“He has no grave,” she whispered inanely. “He died at sea and his body lies there beneath the waves.”

“I know, love,” he said tenderly. “I know.”

Then the tears overflowed her eyes, there in the sunlight in the little courtyard. Silence squeaked, embarrassed and helpless, and felt him pull her against his chest.

“There, there, sweetin’,” he murmured into her hair.

“He loved me, he truly did,” she gasped.

“I know he did,” Michael said.

“And I loved him.”

“Mm-hmm.”

She raised her head, glaring angrily. “You don’t even believe in love. Why are you agreeing with me?”