“I’ve never hated anyone so much.”
She wished he hadn’t added that. She’d never known anyone who hated his or her own mother. It must be an abhorrent emotion to harbor, a contradiction of nature, and it stirred—she realized she felt sorry for him! She almost touched his cheek to comfort him before she caught herself and squashed the urge.
She immediately shook off that ridiculous moment of compassion and changed the subject. “What about your father? Is he still in the islands?”
“Yes.”
It was said sadly, which was better than his anger, but still curious. Other than his annoying good humor, and that brief moment of coldness over his mother’s desertion, he didn’t usually show her any other feelings.
“Tell me about him?”
“We were close, and he was very supportive after my mother deserted us. He used to drink, perhaps a little too much, but that stopped completely after she was gone. He came up with all sorts of distractions to keep me from thinking about it, but I think they were meant to distract him as well. We loved her. I wonder sometimes if I would have grown up bitter and filled with rage if not for him.”
“He sounds like a wonderful man.”
“He is.”
That didn’t account for the sadness he’d revealed when his father was first mentioned. Damon could just miss him, she supposed, but if so, why didn’t he just say that?
“Do you have family in England, too?”
“Yes.”
That reply even produced a sigh! What the devil? “They’ve disowned you, haven’t they, on both sides of the ocean?” she guessed. “And no wonder, considering the occupation you’ve taken up.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Wrong on both counts. And stealing beautiful women isn’t an occupation, Jack.”
She snorted. “Ah, yes, this must be what you call a minor offense. That is what you said at the ball, wasn’t it? That you’d only ever broken the law one time and it was a minor offense because no one got hurt?”
“You’re here merely as a means to an end, an important end.”
All humor gone, she said furiously, “That’s what you call killing my father?”
“I’m not the one who wants him dead.” Damon’s tone turned sharp. “How much do you really know about your father’s past?”
She stiffened, wondering what he was implying. He couldn’t know about her father’s days on the high seas when he’d been a gentleman pirate. No one outside the family knew about that.
She prevaricated, reminding him, “I already told you he used to be one of London’s most notorious rakes, which resulted in countless duels because of it.”
“What about his ten-year absence from home? Was that because his family disowned him?”
“You’ve been listening to London gossip, haven’t you?” she scoffed.
“There was quite a bit of it that night at the ball, all about him.”
“You can’t believe everything you get from the gossip mills.”
“Except you just confirmed that some of it is true. And answer me this: Do you think I would harm your father when I want you as much as I do?”
Her cheeks lit up with warm color, her breathing stopped.
And it was in his eyes, his beautiful eyes, suddenly incredibly sensual. He couldn’t do this to her again! Couldn’t leave her wishing they weren’t enemies! How dare he stir up her passions like this by saying something that—that provocative?
Chapter Thirty-Three
DAMON WATCHED HER REACTION carefully. He shouldn’t have been so explicit, and yet, he’d definitely caught her off guard. Jack was an open book when it came to her emotions. She could change her tone, she could pretend things she didn’t feel, but when it came to the rage she felt for him, she was never shy about sharing that. But they’d shared that brief moment of passion before she wrapped up her feelings in anger. But it was too soon. If she succumbed now before this played out, she’d have even more reason to hate him. But he hadn’t yet figured out how he could get around his intention to escort her father to a prison cell.
She wasn’t going to forgive him for that, any more than she would if he did what she thought he intended to do. It wouldn’t matter that her father was guilty of piracy and had escaped justice until now. She would see it as a betrayal and it would be. But he hadn’t anticipated wanting her this strongly, or wishing they could have met under different circumstances. And the more time he spent with her, the more he was conflicted. But he wasn’t going to take advantage of her passionate feelings for him before she knew the whole truth. That would make him as bad as she thought him to be.
He was relieved when she walked away from him to stand at the railing behind him. It was far enough away to make any further conversation difficult, yet she couldn’t get off the quarterdeck without walking past him. At least she didn’t try to use his revelation about wanting her against him. Jack Malory seductive would be his undoing.
He could no longer wait to get Jack and her brother on his side. They were getting too close to the Caribbean, where he would have his parley with their father. Lacross’s men had to be dealt with before then, before they got anywhere near James Malory. Jack’s brother could certainly help with that, but not unless Damon explained a few key elements of his true mission to Jeremy and Jack. But not all. Damon wondered if the two siblings even knew that their father used to be a notorious pirate?
It had been a shock to spot Captain Hawke in London four years ago when Damon and Mortimer were celebrating the end of the university term. Barely changed, still big and menacing, but dressed like a gentleman now. The very man who’d taken his mother away from him and his father. And he’d seen it happen.
He had been seven years old at the time. The day had been hot and sultry despite the trade winds, and his mother had been behaving so nervously. She’d been dressed to go to town, even had a large bag with her, but all she’d told him was “We’re going for a walk.”
He loved walking with her, spending time with her. She always smelled wonderful and looked so pretty in her fancy dresses. She’d taught him to read, to ride, to swim. His father wanted to make a planter of him, but she never let Damon forget that he was a gentleman first, and gentlemen didn’t tend the soil, they had workers to do that. He knew his father spent almost all his time in the fields alongside his workers because he simply loved to be outside and make things grow. Damon’s mother never scolded him for joining his father because she understood that planting was fun for a boy his age. But he enjoyed walking with her the most, down their long drive, sometimes to town, or along the beach, but they’d never before walked through the sugarcane fields between their plantation and their neighbor’s, at least not when the cane was tall—or when the neighbor was at home.