Scorned & Craved: The Frenchman's Lionhearted Wife (Love's Second Chance Series: Tales of Damsels & Knights Book 6) Read online

  Her mother heaved a deep sigh, and Juliet could all but see her mother’s thoughts, those she did not dare voice. If not marriage, what other option was there for Juliet? Would she remain unmarried for good? Would she never have love and family? Children?

  Juliet knew that she had very few options. Yes, she could agree to marry an older gentleman and hope that he would be kind to her, that she would not suffer overly in that marriage, that she would at least become a mother. Yet, whenever Juliet considered that option, her heart drew her back to that day four years ago.

  When Henri Duret had come into her life.

  Four years had passed since she had last seen him, since he had left England and sailed away. After all, he had only come in order to protect her stepsister, his cousin, and after doing so, he had returned to his life of privateering.

  Was that another option? Juliet wondered, had wondered more than once. She often thought of her stepsister’s life, out there on the open seas.

  Although Violet had grown up as the adopted daughter of a French privateer, she had been born to English aristocracy, the daughter of Viscount Silcox. Her life had started out the same as Juliet’s, only it had taken a drastic turn. That turn had made Violet strong and daring and brave, and it had given her the courage to return to England when Juliet had been on the cusp of marriage.

  Cherishing her own freedom, Violet had felt determined to offer the same freedom to Juliet.

  Only things had not turned out as they had hoped. While Violet had found love with an English Lord, his own heart as adventurous as her own, Juliet had not been so fortunate. Still, she cherished every letter from her stepsister as well as every visit from Violet and Oliver, who now commanded their own ship and were rarely in England these days.

  English privateers in contrast to the French family Violet still called her own.

  In many ways, Juliet envied her sister. Yet, she knew she did not possess the strength and daring that seemed to come so natural to Violet. No, Juliet was timid and hesitant and fearful. As much as she sometimes dreamed of running off and leaving this life behind, she knew that she would never survive out there in the world.

  What then?

  Unbidden, Juliet’s thoughts returned to the one other option she currently possessed. About a fortnight ago, a letter had arrived. A letter from an old friend. A friend who was now offering her a choice.

  After crying off, Juliet had found herself on the outskirts of society. She was still a lady by birth, and yet, the friends she had once thought to have had slowly, one by one, deserted her.

  And then she had met Miss Clarissa Kingston.

  Since Clarissa’s father was a merchant and had made his fortunes with ships carrying goods back and forth between England and India, the crème de la crème of London society tended to look down upon them. After all, there was nothing worse than those who obtained their fortune through honest work.

  Juliet sighed at the silly notions of her peers. Yes, in recent years she had come to see many things in a different light, many things she had not even noticed before or paid much attention to. Now, she knew better.

  In the end, Juliet and Clarissa had formed a bond together they faced all those who would deem them unworthy. They had become fast friends, and Juliet had been relieved to have at least one friendly face to look upon, one soul to confide in.

  Until Clarissa had left England as well, accompanying her father to India.

  Two years had passed since, and now Clarissa was on the brink of marriage. She was happy and in love, and every letter from her made Juliet yearn to find something, something…

  …anything.

  Juliet’s mind drifted back to Clarissa’s letter. She had read it countless times and had all but committed it to memory, for it never failed to make her heart beat faster in her chest.

  …Please, Juliet, consider this. My uncle travels on one of my father’s ships to India on the 19th. Please, will you not accompany him? Come to India and begin a new life here. I cannot bear to think of you so sad and forlorn back in England. Please, come. What do you have to lose?…

  Indeed, what did she have to lose?

  It was the one question that continued to echo in Juliet’s head day and night. Ought she to risk it all and leave everything behind? Or remain in England forever and continue to sleepwalk from day to day with nothing to hope for?

  Yes, these were her options, and Juliet wished that her heart knew which one to choose. She wished that there was one that was clearly meant for her.

  But there was not.

  Still, the thought of going to India was perhaps the one most appealing. As much as Juliet wanted love and marriage, she knew that the only marriage open to her would be one absent of love. And ever since…

  A deep sigh left her lips as it never failed to do whenever her thoughts drifted back to that day four years ago.

  No, she could not marry without love and affection, without passion and temptation. Ever since Henri Duret had kissed her, Juliet knew that she could not deny her heart.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that her heart was rather steadfast, for it continued to hold to the thought of Henri, to the few moments they had shared, to that one kiss.

  That one kiss that had changed everything.

  At least, for her.

  Countless times over the past four years, Juliet had wondered if he even still remembered her. Had she merely been one among many? Had his heart not been touched by her as hers had been touched by him?

  Of course, it was foolish to think that an adventurous soul such as his would ever attach itself to a timid, little mouse like Juliet. Yet, every once in a while, she allowed herself to dream.

  To imagine what it would be like to see him again.

  To pretend that at least, every once in a while, he still thought of her as well.

  Of course, it was a lie, but it was a lie that brought a smile to Juliet’s face.

  What was she to do?

  Chapter Two

  A Memory

  1812 Off the coast of France

  With his legs braced, Henri Duret stood on the quarterdeck of the Voile Noire, the Black Sail, his own ship, his pride and joy. Lifting his head, he gazed up at the dark sail billowing in the strong wind, pushing the Voile Noire through the churning waves. His crew worked seamlessly as one, some up in the rigging while others manned the lower deck. He saw determined faces, eyes focused on tasks assigned, their minds in concentration as they all worked together to bring the ship about.

  Slowly, the Voile Noire turned into the wind.

  Toward France.

  Toward home.

  Long months had passed since Henri had last seen his family. His father Alain as well as his uncle Antoine. Privateering was a family business for the Durets. It had begun with Henri’s grandfather, Hubert Duret, decades ago before he had passed the torch after many years at sea to Antoine. Now, he spent his days at home in La Roche-sur-Mer, rarely leaving his wife’s side. Unfortunately, Henri’s own father, Alain, suffered from severe seasickness and always tended to business from the safety of France.

  Thus, the two brothers had always worked as one. Henri had known from the first that he, too, belonged out on the open sea. He had set sail with his uncle when he had been all but seven years of age, his eagerness for adventure unmatched and impossible to deny.

  To this day, Henri cherished the feeling of the sea air whipping into his face, tugging upon his shirt as the Voile Noire surged through the waves, the sky filled with dark clouds as the wind howled around them. He loved the up and down of his ship, the way it threatened to toss him overboard as the sea rolled almost violently across the globe.

  This was life!

  This was freedom!

  There was nothing like it.

  “Back to France!” Henri called as he stepped up to the helm where his first mate stood with his hands tightly wrapped about the ship’s wheel, his flaxen hair whipping in the wind as much as Henri’s raven-black hair.


  “Aye, Capt’n!” the man called, his Scottish accent revealing more about him than the few words the taciturn man ever spoke.

  As many burdened by their past, Ian Stewart—if indeed that was his real name!—kept to himself. The only companion to never leave his side was a wolf, a large beast with a torn right ear and a long scar on his left flank.

  As far as Henri knew, the man had been pulled out of the waters near the Scottish coast by a fisherman roughly three years ago.

  As had the wolf.

  No one knew what had happened, and Ian never volunteered any details about his life before. It seemed he had been all but reborn that day, a new man struggling to forget the life he had left behind.

  To Henri, Ian’s past did not matter. What mattered was the man’s dedication to the ship, its crew and their captain. He never complained or argued, never gambled or ended up in brawls. He pulled his weight upon the ship, always there when needed, and over the years, Henri had come to place his trust in the silent Scot.

  Moving his gaze to the horizon, Henri inhaled a deep breath of sea air. He could all but smell the soft scents of France, the mild hints of vegetation as they drew closer to the coast, and he felt a slow smile claim his face.

  It had been too long!

  “Do you not long to see your family, Ian?” Henri asked his first mate with a sideways glance. He did not truly expect an answer and was, therefore, not surprised to hear the man merely grumble something unintelligible under his breath.

  Chuckling, Henri strode forward then climbed down onto the main deck, his watchful eyes sweeping over his crew as they secured the lines. “Home to France!” he called, and a joyous cheer went up around him.

  “Home to France!” his crew echoed, pumping their fists up into the air, wide smiles upon their faces.

  Henri stepped up to the bowsprit, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon as he thought of those he had left behind but would see again soon.

  His early years had been spent in the one village the Durets had always called home, La Roche-sur-Mer. It lay situated in a small cove where only his family’s ships docked. It was a close neighborhood where people knew one another, where people cared about one another.

  Even beyond the bonds of family.

  Still, Henri longed most to see his father and uncle as he had been closest to them all his life. Antoine had been the one to teach him how to sail, how to navigate, how to be a privateer. To this day, Antoine Duret was the man Henri admired most.

  Only Antoine’s life had changed the night he had stumbled upon the love of his life on a beach in Norfolk, England, and had whisked her and her little daughter—Violette!—away with him to France, leaving Viscount Silcox under the impression that his wife and child were dead.

  After more than fifteen years of wedded bliss and four more children, Antoine and Alexandra were still as much in love as they had been that very first day.

  Henri remembered it well.

  He equally well remembered meeting his new cousin.

  Within moments, six-year-old Violette had snatched the spyglass out of his hands because she had wanted to watch her old life disappear upon the horizon. Back then, Henri had not yet known what a fierce daredevil she was.

  Today, the thought of her dauntless courage never failed to make him chuckle. Yes, he missed her, now that she was married to an English lord, a mother herself, and captian of her own ship—under an English flag, no less!

  Still, she often visited home for at heart she was still a daughter of France.

  More importantly, she was still a Duret.

  And family was forever.

  As strong winds pushed the Voile Noire toward home, Henri found himself wondering if he would see his beloved cousin upon reaching France. Would she be there? She and her family? It had been too long since he had seen little Antoinette? Would the little girl even still remember him?

  Running a hand through his tousled hair, Henri felt his thoughts stray to another face he had not seen in a long time.

  In four years, to be exact.

  Henri felt his teeth grit together as her face slowly took shape against his will, her shy green eyes framed by thick lashes that constantly seemed to sweep downward as though trying to hide her. Her dark auburn hair had glistened in the sun, and his right hand closed involuntarily as though he could still feel those soft, thick curls against his skin. He remembered running his fingers through them before grabbing a fistful to urge her head back and allow him to deepen his kiss.

  A dark growl rose from Henri’s throat as he remembered that one unburdened moment with her. Four years had passed since, and yet, he still remembered it as though it had been no more than four minutes.

  “Merde!” The curse flew from his lips as his hand once more rose to rake through his wind-swept hair. Why could he not simply forget her? Why?

  She was like a plague upon his soul, always there, always reminding him of something he could never have.

  Something he did not even want to have.

  She was an English lady, delicate and shy, and he was a French privateer, adventurous and dauntless. Their lives were vastly different, their countries were at war, and yet…the same had been true for Antoine and Alexandra.

  Once.

  Henri hung his head as his grandfather’s voice echoed in his head. Often had Hubert Duret spoken to him of love and family, the same as he had spoken to Antoine when he had taken over command of his father’s ship years ago.

  Once, Antoine had been a carefree young man, his only love the sea, his eyes fixed upon the horizon. Henri remembered how, as a boy, he had once overheard a similar conversation when his grandfather had urged Antoine to keep an open mind, promising him that love would eventually find him, urging him to heed its call.

  Antoine had laughed at the notion.

  And then, one night, something had made him turn his ship into the wind and head toward an English beach in the middle of a storm.

  Alexandra.

  It had taken no more than a single glimpse, and Antoine’s life had come undone. Henri had seen his uncle’s face the moment his gaze had fallen upon Alexandra.

  He had been thirteen years old at the time, but he remembered it well. He remembered the look of utter shock upon his uncle’s face as well as that sense of awe that had illuminated his eyes from within.

  The look upon Alexandra’s face had been the same.

  Everything had changed that night.

  Strangers—enemies, for all intents and purposes!—had become a family. It was a thought that constantly lingered in Henri’s mind, refusing to release him no matter how hard he fought to banish it.

  Fate had guided Antoine that night.

  Would it ever guide him, Henri? Or had it already and he had merely refused to listen?

  Chapter Three

  A Leap of Faith

  Port of London, 1812

  The stench that lingered in the air urged Juliet to breathe through her mouth. She did not even dare analyze what it was made of, but kept her attention focused on the tall-masted ship in front of her. She craned her neck and allowed her eyes to run ever higher, along the rigging to the crow’s nest. It seemed to almost touch the sky.

  “It is quite impressive, is it not?” Mr. Kingston, Clarissa’s uncle, asked with a chuckle. “I do remember the first time in my life that I saw such a ship.” Heaving a deep sigh, he shook his head, a small smile playing over his face at the memory. “It was a magnificent moment; one I shall never forget.”

  Juliet smiled at him. “I only ever heard them described, but I never once saw one in person.” She once again allowed her gaze to sweep over the tall masts. “I never imagined they could be this big.” It was another testimony to the sheltered life she had led, and it sent a pang of fear through her heart. What was she doing here? This was madness!

  “Ah!” Mr. Kingston exclaimed, as his gaze moved past her to something beyond her shoulder. “Here comes Miss Smith.” He waved a hand, then looked down at Juliet.
“I’ve hired her to see to you during our voyage.”

  Juliet sighed in relief. Of course, she had wondered about daily life on a ship without a lady’s maid around to assist her. Yet, she had not dared bring her own, uncertain if Martha would have even agreed. After all, who would leave England behind, her entire family, and venture out into the world to an unknown place, far, far away?

  Only a fool would, was that not so?

  Or someone desperate.

  The thought of her own family threatened to bring tears to Juliet’s eyes. She thought of her mother and her little brother Jacob, and she quickly turned around to greet Miss Smith, hoping to distract herself and prevent her thoughts from dwelling on the significance of what she was about to do.

  Miss Smith had a pleasant face, her blue eyes wide as they drifted to the tall-masted ship again and again. She gave a small curtesy the moment she stopped in front of them, a kind smile coming to her face. “Good day, my lady. Mr. Kingston.”

  “Good day, Miss Smith,” Mr. Kingston greeted the young woman before he gestured toward Juliet. “May I introduce the Lady Juliet Edwards? My lady, this is Miss Elizabeth Smith.”

  Juliet smiled at her, and Miss Smith curtsied again. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Smith.”

  “Oh, please call me Elizabeth, my lady. Or Betsy, if you prefer.” A shy smile lingered upon her face.

  Juliet nodded, relieved to find a kindred spirit in the young woman. “Very well then, Elizabeth.”

  “Shall we?” Mr. Kingston asked, looking from Elizabeth to Juliet before his gaze moved to his brother’s vessel once more. “As this is a cargo ship, we will be the only passengers on board. There will be ample space on deck, however, not much company for a young lady such as yourself.” He grinned at her kindly as they moved toward the gangway to board the ship. “I do hope you’ll find a good companion in Miss Smith.”

  Juliet was fairly certain that she would, for she had liked the young woman instantly. However, the moment her feet stepped on deck of the large ship, her thoughts once more turned to the daring endeavor she was about to undertake.