whispered, disbelief paralyzing her.
“Not any longer.”
There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other.
Then: “Sir Griffin Barry at your service. —Your husband,” he added, when she didn’t say a single word.
She couldn’t.
SIX
Griffin was in the grip of a feeling so overwhelming that he didn’t have a name for it. He was looking at his wife.
The word hadn’t meant anything to him for years. Nor had it meant anything to her, apparently, given that he had just met his heir.
Anger burned in his chest at the idea that another man had touched his wife. Still, during all those long years abroad, he hadn’t sired any children because he knew the ins and outs of a French letter. Poppy almost certainly didn’t. And he couldn’t say that he left her satisfied. So . . .
“Colin’s father,” he began, and despite himself his voice emerged from his chest like the slam of a hammer on metal. “Where is he?”
For the last decade men had jumped when he’d raised his voice. But the lovely woman seated before him? She didn’t even twitch. “He is dead,” she said, after a moment had stretched to an eternity.
“Do you have other children?” He could have choked on the question. He’d been so careful with his seed, and all the time his wife was . . . well.
“Two,” she replied, her eyes direct and unafraid.
Damn, but she was a pirate’s bride. There wasn’t even the smallest flare of shame in her eyes. Not even a twinge.
“You must have thought that I was never coming back.”
“You gave me no reason to believe otherwise. In the first decade of our marriage I asked your Mr. Pettigrew on occasion, but I must admit that I stopped asking.”
That was fair. Logical.
“You were gone. And I gather you were engaged in piracy, a pursuit from which I believe few men return. It appears you were successful, given the large amounts that Mr. Pettigrew deposited into the household account.”
There wasn’t a shade of blame in her tone. His wife was outrageously pretty, with hair like bright butter. But she had a backbone of steel.
“I’ve been a privateer for the past seven years,” he said. “My ship flew the flag of the Kingdom of Sicily, and we attacked pirate ships rather than the other way around.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the difference.”
“Privateers are sanctioned by a government to attack pirates, thereby keeping the shipping lanes safe. We also made it a practice to attack slave ships and free the captives.”
“So you didn’t walk people down the plank?”
He shook his head. “Never. Even my first ship, after I was kidnapped, never—”
“You were kidnapped?” He’d finally said something that shook her from that unsettlingly calm demeanor. “Stolen? Forced onto a ship?”
“You didn’t think that I meant to leave England?”
She had. It was hard to believe that porcelain skin could grow paler, but hers did. A flash of sorrow crossed her eyes. For him?
“I was seventeen,” he said. “Short, as you said, and not very good at handling myself. And I was drunk for the first time in my life. I was an easy target for a press gang. We sailed for the West Indies just before dawn on the morning after you and I wed.”
“Drunk? You mean, after you left . . .”
Damned if it wasn’t still embarrassing all these years later. “After the failure of our wedding night,” he said, his voice wry, “I went to a public house and proceeded to drink myself into a stupor. From which I awoke to find myself at sea.”
“We never knew that,” she whispered. “I thought you deserted me.”
He considered accepting her implicit apology, but he had decided long ago that the only way to thrive was by ruthless honesty. “I might have run away if I had thought of it. I got too drunk for anything so coherent.”
“We never imagined that you’d been kidnapped, or we surely would have searched further. My father . . . we thought you couldn’t bear the shame of marriage to a commoner.”
“Is your father still alive?”
She shook her head. “He died seven years ago.”
That made sense; she had waited until her father died to take a lover. For some reason, he found that detail gut-wrenching. Perhaps he should have come home sooner.
“Where are the other children?” he asked, forcing the words out.
“Are you angry?” she asked, ignoring his question. “Many men would be furious to come home after a long absence to find three new additions to the family.”
“I