Emma Barry (19 page)

Henry turned at the frantic sound of his first mate’s voice. Lucas Winters rushed toward him, sword drawn, an uncharacteristic expression distorting his features. What the deuce was happening now?

Hair rose on Henry’s neck. “Mister Winters! What has gotten you in to such a state?” Winters’s face turned ashen and his eyes lit with feral purpose.

“There’s a problem below, sir,” Winters exclaimed.

“What kind of problem?” Dreading the answer, Henry drew his own sword and limped forward.

“We’ve a breach, sir. Several of the prisoners have escaped.”

“Escaped?” he bellowed. “Out of an iron cage? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I gave strict orders the prisoners were not to be left unguarded.”

Enraged by the incompetence of his men, Henry followed Winters down the gangway to the next deck, hurrying as fast as his laborious gait allowed.
Damn, the useless appendage!

“Where are the guards?” His eyes traveled the length of the deck, finding it empty. “When I said not to let those pirates out of your sight, I meant it.”

“Your orders were carried out to the letter, sir. Still, this development — ”

“What development?” he spat.

“This one,” another voice, strangely knotting his gut, said.

Henry’s body stiffened.

Winters’s eyes darted to Henry’s right. Taking his lead, Henry turned with his sword drawn, prepared for a fight. What he met was a barrier of steel meant to subdue and intimidate him. The two blades chinked together, slicing the distance between captain and foe, creating sparks that fired, faded, and then sparked anew.

His opponent moved with lithe grace, and then retreated, just as he’d gotten a foothold. Lurching forward, he challenged each lunge more aggressively than the last, taking note of his adversary’s skill. Tall and lean, the masked pirate thrust a gleaming weapon close to Henry’s shoulder, then took a step near Henry’s side as he skirted around a wooden cask. Side-stepping another advance, Henry moved forward, dipping low, using his good leg to support his retaliation. Yet again, his efforts were challenged with an agility that surprised him. Changing tactic, he spun on his heel and brought his sword down in a thunderous swoop, carving wood as his quick-footed enemy dodged his thrusts again and again.

There was an odd familiarity about the way his opponent fought, a method he’d practiced with only one other. But that was impossible because that man was in Spain, waiting on the ransom Henry still had to acquire. Yet, the swift turn of his attacker’s wrist, the flexible maneuver of the arm, and the parry behind an arched back illustrated Seaton’s trademark thrust.

Another well-aimed lob ricocheted off of Henry’s blade, redirecting his thoughts, sparking the twilight with brilliant light. Alarmed, Henry doubled back, retreating toward the Dragon’s rails. His enemy marched toward him, a triumphant gleam visibly radiating from cloaked eyes. Lightning flashed, momentarily blinding them. Henry took advantage, quickly taking the upper hand, settling his blade against his opponent’s breast bones.

“Tell your men to stand down,” he ordered.

The pirate moved toward him, baiting him to slide the blade home. Was defeat so horrible a cost that death was a better option? Henry drew back his sword slightly so as not to draw blood. He didn’t want to kill the man, only glean what he could about the Black Belle, who captained it, and where it hailed from, though he already suspected the truth. He also wanted to know how this vermin had escaped his brig.

His attacker moved menacingly forward again. “Stay where you are or I will be forced to drop you where you stand,” he warned.

“Surrender is not an option, Captain.”

Henry’s arm grew lax. He shook his head to clear it, trying to comprehend what he’d just heard. It couldn’t be! But the instant he stopped to look into his foe’s eyes, his blade was thrust to the side and his bad leg knocked out from under him. Hitting the deck hard, Henry tucked his body, rolled sideways, and retrieved his sword. In the amount of time it had taken his enemy to rush him, he rose to land the tip of his steel painstakingly close to his attacker’s throat. Pain crippled him, but Henry wouldn’t underestimate the anomaly standing before him again.

“Not an option for who?” he questioned.

“For me,” the soft voice stated.

Henry narrowed his eyes and glared, incredulously. “Who are you?”

At that moment, swords and pistols came perilously close to his face. He felt more than saw the tall man brandishing the knife that could easily slit his throat.

“Stand down, Captain.”

Surrounded, Henry had no choice but to pull away from his opponent and surrender his sword to the same burly man who’d threatened him with a dirk. That man wasted no time collecting his saber and ushered him toward the center of the ship. Arms held aloft, Henry scrutinized his surroundings, counting twenty men or more brandishing weapons at his crew.

“Don’t be dismayed, sir,” a sultry voice purred.

Henry’s eyes followed the unnatural creature strutting before him. Shoulders confidently lifted, his attacker embraced a blade with finesse unheard of for someone as slight. Looks, however, were deceiving. He knew that better than most.

“Surrender is never pleasant.”

“Especially when forced,” he said.

“Even then.”

This new bane of his existence turned toward him and smiled with even white teeth. Haunting laughter filled his ears as his foe began to remove his disguise. But instead of revealing the bald or scarred head of a rotten-toothed pirate, Henry’s mouth gaped as he observed the sultry release of long red wavy locks. The tendrils caught the wind, flaring out about a narrow set of arrogant shoulders, framing eyes that pinned him where he stood.

“Dismayed?”

Dismayed? That was an understatement. Henry was thunderstruck. The sordid truth was too hard to digest and he hated it with every fiber of his being.
He’d been bested by a woman!

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