Love He Hates, Hatred He Loves
sound of the door latching, but she didn’t open her eyes. Tangled in soft, emerald sheets, she drew in a deep, sleepy breath and sighed into her pillow. She would stay here forever, just like this, if she could.
The mattress dipped, and a callused hand skimmed the bare skin between her shoulders. She opened one eye.
William sat beside her, lit by morning sun streaming through the windows. He held out a steaming mug. “I brought tea.”
Aurelia sat up, holding the sheet against herself as she accepted the cup and leaned into his shoulder. She inhaled his sea-and-air scent, savoring him and his presence as he wound his arm around her and settled his hand on her lower back.
Six weeks had passed, and this morning they would board the Ophelia and take it into Calais. The smaller ship had docked for the night and already returned, judging by the neat stack of mail in his lap. On top of was a letter bearing the name William C. Smith written in her handwriting—her fourth plea for rescue from the prince, which he’d already opened.
Last night, several of the pirates had been eager to send off letters and money, and William sent a small pile of correspondence with everyone else’s—including a letter to the prince saying he’d accepted the terms for Aurelia’s surrender.
Getting him to accept the prince’s ransom had been no small feat, as he’d given her conditions. He taught her to plan and cheat and steal as well as he could, set lies on her tongue, and spent hours teaching her sleight of hand until she was nearly as good as he was and could steal the rings off his fingers without him noticing. He’d even hidden her compass in an inner pocket of his coat, and she’d stolen that back too.
If she could master swiping trinkets off a paranoid pirate, she could do the same to a prideful prince, and chances were lower that she’d land herself in jail. William could get her out if that happened, of course, but it would come with a fair bit of swearing.
Anticipation weighed on her this morning. It wasn’t heavy like dread or trepidation, but it sang along every nerve. Clinging to William made her blood sing for a different reason, and she nestled into his embrace for as long as she could have it.
“I’ll miss the Destiny,” she said.
He gave a low laugh. “Only our ship?”
“I’ll miss you,” she said, quiet enough for him to hear the weight of just how much she would. When she kissed him to prove it, he groaned.
“God,” he said against her lips. “I’m a fool for letting you go.”
“You’d be a fool not to with a pardon and riches on the line.” She leaned away. “Besides, you won’t be far.”
“I’ll be everything short of living in his house.” He took her chin in his fingers. “But if anything happens, get out. Fight, kill as many as you have to—I don’t care.”
Aurelia didn’t like the idea of killing, but she was capable enough. “I’ll be fine.”
“If I have reason to believe you’re in trouble, I’m taking you back.” He said it like a threat, though it was one she’d heard a hundred times already. “And I’ll murder whoever stands in the way of me getting to you.”
“Oh, how you make my toes curl,” she said with a note of whimsy.
William crushed her to his chest. She allowed herself a pause to enjoy the last few moments of his embrace before saying, “I’m ready if you are.”
He released her and stood, flashing a lazy smile. “Let’s ruin a prince.”
By late morning, they were in Calais, hidden inside a carriage trundling toward the outskirts of the city. Aurelia had dressed her hair in an elegant twist and donned a light blue gown, while William sat across from her looking every bit like a swashbuckling pirate in his long black coat and tricorn hat.
They rode in silence until the city fell away, their eyes lingering on each other or the windows. Open fields sprawled on one side of the road, and on the other was a copse of trees with long branches that hung low. Sunlight streamed through colorful, early-autumn leaves and cast dancing shadows over the carriage.
They couldn’t be far from where they’d meet the prince, and despite her readiness, Aurelia grew more nervous the longer they traveled. William, too, seemed oddly reserved.
She slipped off her wedding ring and held it between them. “Get your pardon,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Collect your reward.”
He didn’t take it immediately, his gaze and demeanor hesitant. “You’re sure about this.” She nodded. “It’s not too late. We can still turn back.”
It was a careful offer—not a request or even a suggestion. Just a mere reminder that the option was there. But the money exchanged today represented her life and her heart, and if it should belong to anyone, it was herself. And William.
“I want to do this,” she replied evenly. “I’ll be fine.”
William plucked the ring from her hand. It disappeared into his coat.
A shout came from outside, and the carriage halted abruptly. William set his hand on the door latch, then leaned in to crushed his lips to hers in a short, rough kiss.
“I love you desperately,” he said. “And I shall miss you terribly.”
He got out of the carriage. For a moment, he stood in the road, looking at what had stopped them. Then he faced the door and extended his hand.
It was time.
With deep breath, she set her fingers in William’s and let him pull her from the carriage. Greyson and Hester sat in the driver’s seat, and flanking the vehicle were Ralph and Lavinia astride a pair of horses. They wore long, heavy coats concealing a multitude of guns, just in case the prince chose not to honor the agreement of Aurelia’s surrender—which she pretended to know nothing about as she strode forward with her hand curled tightly into the inside of William’s elbow. He held her fingers there, as though to keep her from fleeing.
Another man stood in the middle of the road wearing a rich shade of plum. Behind him was a small army, all of them dressed in blue.
Aurelia stiffened. “What is this?” she asked, her voice thin and trembling. For now, she was not a Kingswood. She was the sweet, harmless Danby girl who was ridiculous enough to believe a pirate king could ever love her. There were stars in her eyes, and every ounce of her foolish trust had been invested into a liar and a thief.
“Don’t be afraid,” William said with an awful little smile. He tugged her along until she fell back into step with him. “He likes that.”
The man in purple looked to be around thirty with long blond hair tied with a fat bow at the nape of his neck. His face was thin with a pointed chin and gray eyes. And despite having heels on his shoes, he still wasn’t as tall as William.
“Thank you for returning my bride,” the prince said in a heavy French accent.
“I didn’t do it for free,” William said coldly, stopping several feet away. “I’m assuming you agreed to my terms, Pierre?”
“What are you doing?” Aurelia demanded in a breathy voice, like she was horrified.
The corner of William’s lips lifted, and his gaze held not one measure of chagrin or sadness—only unbothered arrogance. “Sorry, love.”
“No!” She attempted to rip herself from his grip. “Please, you said you wouldn’t make me go back. You can’t.”
William’s strong arm snaked around her waist and hauled her back to his side. He cupped her chin, his fingers skimming over her hammering pulse. “Don’t fret, love.” She curled her fingers into his coat, like she could anchor herself to him forever as he turned back to the prince and said, “Well?”
Pierre’s smile had disappeared. He swallowed and slowly lowered himself to the dusty road where, on his knees, he quietly admitted, “Captain Copson, you have bested—”
“Louder,” William commanded.
The prince cleared his throat and started again, raising his voice for everyone to hear. “Captain Copson, you have bested me in all things, and I deserve every humiliation you’ve wrought.”
Behind them, Lavinia snorted. William wore a devilish grin. “And?”
“And,” Pierre said, his voice thick, “it is only because of your generosity that you have brought my fiancée home to me. And I will be,” he gulped, “forever in your debt. Whatever you ask for, you will receive. You are pardoned by the crown now and forevermore.”
“Wonderful,” William said. “I suppose you’ve earned your bride.”
As Pierre rose, a solider broke from the ranks and strode toward her. Aurelia lurched, frantically clinging to William and pleading, “No, Copson, no, please, no!”
The moment the soldier took her arm, she started screaming. William let her go, his eyes vacant of any tenderness or affection.
And then he pushed her away, as though she were nothing. As though she were not the very weapon they would use to shame kings and armies and Aurelia’s wicked parents. Aurelia screamed for William as though she wished to stay with him. She hollered like she couldn’t bear to be parted from him, knowing the prince would love every second of her pain.
Because he was a devil and a child and a fiend who enjoyed his women broken.
“She was fun for a while,” William said to Pierre. “She’s a pretty little thing.”
Aurelia crashed to the ground as her legs buckled, but the guard was there, holding her arms to keep her from running off. “Copson,” she gasped. “Please don’t do this.”
William didn’t spare her a glance. “I dislike you terribly, Pierre, so I hope you’ll allow me this one last wound.” He spoke smoothly, his eyes lacking anything but mirthful vengeance. “When I took her from you, I only meant to amuse myself at your expense. But encouraging and indulging her affections became a much more interesting game—especially knowing that now, every time she looks at you, you’ll know she wishes it was me. Your name is not the one she will sigh in the night, and when she looks at her children, she’ll wish they were mine. And every time you see your pretty, broken wife and her anguish at your inadequacies, you will remember—again and again—that you are a fool who could not best me.”
Pierre said nothing as Aurelia wept. The tears were almost too easy to call to the surface, and their genuineness surprised her. They were not because she was leaving William, though that was reason enough to cry. No, the tears were because she mourned. She’d been a girl exchanged between countries for an alliance with no consideration to her heart. Now that she’d been loved so fully, this charade revealed just how little she’d been loved before.
What fertile ground for vengeance to thrive.
William strolled closer and crouched before her. With one finger, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. He studied her tears, surely knowing they were more real than they should have been.
“You said you loved me,” she said weakly, in an effort to explain what he was seeing without revealing their game. “You loved me, and they don’t, and you promised to keep me. You promised—” Her voice broke on a sob. “They never loved me like you did.”
“You poor, silly girl.” His smile was cold, and his voice turned to ice. “That was the point.”
She’d never seen this side of William, and it left her awestruck and hollow. “You said—”
“Remember who I am. Who you’ve known I was this whole time. I’m a pirate—the pirate.” He leaned in, like he was about to kiss her, his blue eyes blazing. “I’m a liar.”
His words sounded so real that they twisted her insides. All the while, he merely watched, clean and unruffled while she sat in the dust with tears streaking her face and her hair falling from its coil.
What an incredible liar he was.
Her shoulders heaved with another sob. His image blurred, and she blinked away the tears. They ran down her face to where his finger touched her skin, and they slipped into his palm. Like he was collecting them.
“Please—” she started, but William cut her off.
“Say my name,” he said in a voice like a lover’s, his words like silk. “One last time. Say it, and I’ll take you back.”
Her breath stilled. His expression remained serene, but his eyes were intent. Behind him, Lavinia’s hand disappeared into her coat. The prince shifted at Aurelia’s back, and his little army gripped their swords tighter.
It was another offer, like in the carriage. Not a suggestion. Not a request. If Aurelia wanted to change her mind, she could, and they’d fight their way out.
“Say it,” William said with a taunting edge. “Just as you have so many times—like you love the taste of it. Like it’s precious to you, Aurelia.”
He said her name in the same way he told her he loved her—softly and truly. So cruel…he might have been so cruel had she not heard his true intent beneath the layers of lies.
More tears spilled down her face. The kings and her family might not love her. Neither did the prince. But William did, and so did his family of pirates.
She never looked away from him and his blithe arrogance as she whispered the wrong name. “Copson.”
He chuckled lowly and flicked his finger off her chin. “Foolish girl.”
“Copson,” the prince said as Aurelia sobbed. “Please.”
William’s lips twitched, and something troubled and truly hateful flickered over his face, nearly too quick to catch before his easy grin returned. “If I left something for you to break, Pierre, this wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying.” He stood. “But alas, I have what I want.”
“Your payment will be at the harbor,” Pierre said flatly, eager to have him gone. “No one will give you trouble.”
“Fantastic. I truly hope to never see you again.” William turned for his carriage.
At the sight of his retreating figure, Aurelia shouted and shrieked like a woman possessed, begging and cursing in equal measure, saying everything but his name. But for all her bawling and hysterics, William never looked back. His carriage turned around and took off, the shades drawn.
The soldier pulled Aurelia to her feet and half carried her to the royal carriage. He lifted her inside and hesitated after taking his hands away, prepared for her to run.
She only pulled her feet up onto the seat and curled into the corner, quietly sobbing.
“Je vais m’occuper d’elle,” the prince said, limping to his own seat. I will take care of her.
The soldier shut the door. As the carriage started moving, Pierre slipped a silk handkerchief from his coat and handed it to her. The smell of his flowery perfume permeated the small space. “Do you speak French?” he asked.
She shook her head. She did speak French, in fact, but she didn’t want him to know it.
He nodded once. “You are safe now.”
Aurelia held his gaze through swollen eyes. An odd little grin spread over his face, and he looked down to hide it.
It didn’t take long to arrive to his country estate, which was ostentatious and roomy and held far too many servants. Maids swept Aurelia into a suite where they bathed her and brushed her hair and told her how pretty she was. They gave her new gowns and hung diamonds from her ears, then held a mirror before her with hopes it would cheer her.
She did not satisfy them with smiles or answer their questions. She thanked them for none of their attempted sympathies as they said that must have been so frightening and thank God he brought you back.
When they finally left her, she dried her tears, sagged into a chair, and looked out the window toward the sea beyond the horizon. She touched the turtle pendant at her throat, sighed, and said to herself, “Now we begin.”