Maribel said and blushed. ‘It is good to understand what other people have to do.’
‘Show me your hands.’ Maribel held them out and Peg frowned as she saw the red marks on the palms. ‘You should have told me that you had never done hard work. I should not have asked you to carry water from the well if I had known. I’ll give you some salve for your hands.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘It’s the first time I’ve known Sylvester to take a woman under his protection. You must have made an impression on him! There will be some jealous females once‘ tis known you’ve done what none other could.’ Peg grinned suddenly. ‘What is he like as a lover? I’ve thought many a time I would be happy to lie with such a man!’ She threw back her head and laughed as Maribel flushed. ‘I thought not! You have not lain in his bed, have you? He is protecting you from scum like Pike.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Maribel looked at her.
‘You are innocent, child. Anyone with sense can see it in your eyes. Besides, I know his heart is in the grave of the woman he loved.’
‘He has told you this?’ Maribel felt as if a knife had entered her breast, because to hear it from Peg seemed to make the woman real instead of the shadowy person Justin had mentioned in passing. ‘He has spoken to you of this woman—you know who she was?’
‘That I cannot reveal without telling his secret,’ Peg said. ‘Before I came here I was a servant in a big house. When I killed the rat that raped me I should have hanged had it not been for Sylvester. He took me from the hellhole I was locked in and set me free. I escaped to sea with a man I cared for. I know that Sylvester’s heart was broken when the woman he was to marry died of a fever a few days before their wedding…and if you tell him that I revealed so much I’ll slit your throat myself!’
He had lost his love shortly before his wedding day. It was not surprising that he could never think of putting another woman in her place. Maribel felt a flow of sympathy for him, feeling his hurt and the pain it must have caused him. In that moment she wanted to put her arms about him and kiss away all the grief and pain, to make him whole again. She knew how it felt to lose someone you loved and she had loved Pablo as a brother. How would it feel to lose someone who meant so much more—someone who was a part of you?
‘I swear I shall not reveal what you have told me.’ Maribel said. Her heartbeat had returned to normal. Peg had told her something so revealing that she thought it had begun to explain the mystery that was Captain Justin Sylvester. Sylvester was not his true name. He had come from a respectable family, from what Peg had hinted, perhaps a great family.
The mystery was deep and she might never reach the bottom of it, but Maribel suspected that she might be falling deeply in love with the man himself. He was a gentleman despite his present situation. He was also a man of honour.
Why did he believe he could not return to his homeland? What had he done that was so terrible?
She knew that he could be harsh. It was necessary to discipline the men that served with him. Yet he could also be compassionate and honourable.
Maribel’s heart ached as she saw to the packing of her own trunk for the move to Justin’s house. Being here on the island had caused her to lose so many inhibitions that she had had before being taken captive. When she first left for England she had been very much the correct Spanish lady. She was not certain who she was any more. Maribel was not sure that she would ever be able to give orders to a servant in the way she once had, taking it for granted that they should obey her every whim, though she would be expected to do so once she was living with her English family.
If only there was another way to live! One that was possible for her. She did not think that she could be happy living on the island, because the pirates were dangerous, coarse men and she would always fear most of them. Yet to return to the kind of life she had known in her father’s house would be hard.
She thought that she would like to live simply in a modest house, somewhere in the country—perhaps a farm—but with whom? One face filled her mind, but she struggled to push it away. To dream of such happiness was foolish.
Justin Sylvester was not looking to settle to a quiet life. He might desire Maribel, but he did not love her. He did not wish for a wife, merely a mistress to lie with when it suited him.
Blinking back her tears, Maribel dressed herself in a thin shift, one petticoat and the thinnest gown she possessed. She looked respectable, because her hair was disciplined into the ringlets she had worn at home. She had teased her comb into her tangled hair, curling it about her fingers. The effect was not quite as neat as when Anna dressed her hair, but she did not look like the wanton hoyden Justin had rescued from that vile man.
Lifting her head, Maribel glanced at herself in her tiny silver-backed mirror. She vaguely resembled the formal lady that had first set sail for England, though she knew that inside she was very different. She had been living inside a shell, in a cold dark place and barely alive. Now she was aware of her feelings, aware of pain and love and a need that she scarcely understood.
Maribel glanced round the room she had been given. It was furnished with an impressive tester bed of Spanish hardwood and hung with silken drapes. Other hutches made of a similar wood, a stool, and a cupboard on a carved stand had been provided for her comfort. She wondered where and how Justin had come by such fine items. They must either have been captured from Spanish vessels or brought here at some cost—perhaps both. A trunk with iron bands had been delivered and when Maribel opened the lid she discovered the gowns and undergarments she had been promised. They were of such fine silk that she knew they must have been extremely costly. Because of their light weight she knew that they would be much more comfortable than the heavier gowns she had prepared for her trousseau. She had deliberately chosen heavy materials because she had been told she would need them in the cooler climate of England.
She was finding herself more and more reluctant to complete her journey to the home of her mother’s family. Yet what else was there for her? If she gave herself to Justin without marriage, she would indeed be a whore. What if he tired of her? Where would she go and what would she do then?
The questions weighed heavily on her mind. Her heart was telling her that even a short time as his woman—to lie in his arms and experience his loving—would be worth losing her honour. However, her mind reminded her that she was a lady and gently born. Her father might be a tyrant and a murderer, but her mother was undoubtedly a lady. If she gave up honour for love, she could never return to the life she was meant to live. She would be an outcast and might one day be forced to earn her living on her back. Yet she was not even sure that she had a family who would take her in, though Juanita had told her that she had an uncle in England and named him. She had received no letters from him. Perhaps he would not wish to know her.
Maribel’s tortured thoughts were scattered as Anna came into the room bearing clean linen for the bed.
‘This is a fine house,’ Anna told her. ‘True it is built mainly of wood, but the foundations are set on stone. It should withstand the worst of winter storms.’
‘Yes, it is stout enough.’ Maribel gave a little shiver. ‘I should not want to live here all the time. Are you sure you wish to settle here, Anna? If you change your mind, you will have a place with me—if my family can be found and will accept me.’
‘I thank you, my lady, but in England I should always be a servant. Here I can be my own person.’
‘Surely you and Higgins could have an inn or a shop of your own in England?’
‘It would not be the same. You have always been a lady. You do not know what it is like for
