My Runaway Heart (33 page)

"
Señorita
—excuse, excuse,
señora
?"

"My husband told me to wait for him here."
Without even looking back, Lindsay proceeded right to the stairs. "
El
Capitán
. He
will return soon."

She heard no response; hoping she'd been believed, she
raced up the steps and didn't stop until she had entered their former room,
relieved to see that it wasn't occupied, though the rumpled bed had been made.
Her face hot as flame, she drew the bolt quietly and then raced to the window,
her heart battering against her breast as she spied Jared's ship among a dozen
still anchored in the sparkling bay.

She could see men working busily on deck, the shattered
topmast being replaced while sailors climbed the rigging to get at the torn
sails needing repair and patching. Dear Lord, how was she ever going to find a
way . .
.

It was then she spied him,
Cooky
with two other sailors—his kitchen assistants, she realized, her heart racing
faster—and they were rowing a galley back to shore.

***

"
Cap'n's
going to have
my hide."

"
Shhh
,
Cooky
, he'll have mine first," Lindsay admonished him
for what seemed the hundredth time since she'd been lugged in a burlap bag to
the galley, hoping desperately she appeared nothing more than a lumpy sack of
potatoes. "Are we almost to the ship?"

"So we are, and there'll be no word out of you
two, either, do you hear me? Or our hides will be patching the sails!"

Lindsay bit her lower lip, praying that
Cooky's
assistants might not panic and give her away. She
had never seen men look so startled as when she had dashed from the tavern and
drawn all three with her into a shadowy alley—pleading for them to help her,
declaring passionately that she didn't want to be anywhere but at Jared's
side—although from the look of admiration in
Cooky's
squinty eyes, she had sensed his acquiescence at once.

Yet that had obviously become anxiety as they neared
the
Vengeance
, and Lindsay couldn't
say she wasn't nervous, too. She hugged her knees and chewed her lip as Cowan's
Irish brogue rang out, ordering the galley to be hoisted aboard. Then, as the
ropes and winches began to creak and groan, reminding her so much of the first
time she'd sneaked aboard, she truly began to pray.

"Aye, good thing you came back when you did,
Cooky
.
Cap'n's
ready to sail. And
he's in a black mood, just as a warning. Ever since that Swedish ship left the
bay, so you'd better unload fast."

Oh, Lord. The news filling her with equal parts dread
and incredible elation, Lindsay grimaced as she felt herself being lifted, her
breath gone from her body. To think if
Cooky
and his
men hadn't come back to shore for more supplies, her only recourse to wait
until dark and then try to find a way aboard. She would have missed . . .

Shoving the dreadful thought away, Lindsay resumed
praying, hard, as she was carried toward the hold. Everything had been
carefully planned. All they needed to do was get her safely below to the ship's
kitchen, where
Cooky
had promised to hide her until
the
Vengeance
was well under sail
again, and then she would carefully make her presence known to Jared.

"Blast it to hell,
Cooky
,
haven't
we enough potatoes to last us a year? We've
eaten so many of
them,
I'd sooner see the damned
things tossed overboard to the fish—"

"A needless waste that would be, too,
Cap'n
."
Cooky's
surprisingly
calm voice did little to soothe Lindsay's trembling as she realized Jared must
be standing very close to them. So close, she feared she might have to reveal
herself then and there or risk drowning inside the sack. But when the light
seemed to fade around her, she knew
Cooky's
assistants were descending with her into the hold. Only then did she dare allow
herself a swamping sense of relief.

"All right, men, put her—put the potatoes over
there under the table. Gently, now."

Settled on her side upon the floor, Lindsay smiled
gratefully at
Cooky
as the sack was loosened at the
top to allow her some air. She longed for nothing more than to stretch her
cramped legs, but that would have to wait.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, miss?
It might be a while, maybe not until morning, before we're far enough out to
sea that
Cap'n
wouldn't be tempted to come right back
once he knows. . ."

At
Cooky's
worried frown,
Lindsay shook her head, very much aware of what the old sailor had risked for
her. "I'm fine, truly. Thanks to you,
Cooky
, and
your men, I've everything I want. I'll never forget how you helped me."

"Neither will
Cap'n
, I
fear," the man mumbled, but he gave Lindsay a gruff smile. And he didn't
leave her to begin preparations for the evening meal until he had wadded up a
towel and tucked it gently under her head for a pillow.

***

And Lindsay slept, not realizing the depth of her
fatigue until
Cooky
tried to wake her late that night
to get her to eat something, which she did. But she couldn't have remembered if
she ate the choicest stew or a dried slice of salt pork, she was so tired, the
day's strain and excitement clearly too much for her.

As well as the previous night's.

At one point she awoke, the galley darkened,
Cooky
and his assistants long ago gone to their bunks or
hammocks, the ship eerily quiet but for the creaking of timbers and the distant
flapping of sails. She lay there for long moments staring at the planked
ceiling, the ship rocking beneath her while her flesh burned, her breath
snagged in her throat, dreams and memories of Jared's hands upon her, his mouth
upon her so vivid it seemed as if he were there at her side.

But he wasn't, and she still feared it was too soon to
go to him, although she wanted to so desperately.

She sensed he wasn't sleeping in his cabin at all but
pacing the quarterdeck, restlessly, unceasingly, which only made her ache for
him the stronger. Would he take her in his arms, think her a dream or a phantom
come to haunt him or flesh and blood? Would he rouse the crew and order his
helmsman to head straight back to
Gijón
— No, no, no,
she couldn't bear to think of it!

Somehow Lindsay forced herself to be patient, forced
herself to close her eyes, although the next hours were more a futile tossing
upon the hard floor. Yet she did finally fall asleep, Jared once more filling
her dreams: her husband, her love, her life . . .

***

"Miss, miss, wake up! Wake up! We're attacking,
God help us, the ship barely repaired—"

"Attacking,
Cooky
. . .
what?" Roused so suddenly, Lindsay could only stare at the grizzled sailor
with bleary eyes while he threw aside the burlap sack.

"Climb out of there, miss! It's safer in the stern,
for we're coming at them broadside. Now, miss, now!"

Cooky's
urgency cutting
through the drowsy fog gripping her, it was still the deafening roar of cannon
that got her to move. She gasped, the sound bringing back the horror of the
last time, when Dag and the others . . .

"Oh, God, Jared." Irrational fear overwhelming
her, Lindsay stumbled to her feet, her legs so numb from being confined in the
sack that she fell over, knocking
Cooky
to the floor.

Yet they both scrambled back up when another round of
cannon fire boomed with fierce explosive power, making the entire ship quake.
Although
Cooky
tried to hold fast onto her arm, she
broke free, running frantically toward the hold.

"No, no, miss, the stern,
Cap'n's
quarters! It's too dangerous—great God, he'll never forgive me now! Come back,
miss!"

Lindsay was halfway up the steps when
Cooky
caught her by the ankle, the old sailor's agility as
startling as his grip was so desperate. Yet she was equally desperate, rounding
on him with hoarse pleading in her voice.

"Let me go,
Cooky
! He's
my husband now—we were married in
Gijón
! Please let
me go!"

Cooky
was so stunned that he
released her. Lindsay didn't waste a moment but lunged up the last few steps
and burst onto the deck, the familiar and horrifying smell of gunpowder burning
her nostrils, black smoke choking her, the brilliant morning sunlight blinding
her eyes. She blinked, wildly looking for Jared, but what drew her gaze before
she could find him was the high-pitched screams coming from the stricken brig
lying broadside, the two ships no more than twenty feet apart.

The terrified screams of women and children clambering
from the hold onto the deck—dear God and the British vessel had already struck
its colors, ready to surrender.

Coughing from the smoke, she ran toward the quarterdeck
and stumbled up the companionway, nearly collapsing into Jared's arms. He
hugged her fiercely for a moment,
then
quickly thrust
her away from him, his expression as grim as his eyes behind his fearsome gold
mask, but she couldn't think of that now.

"No more firing, Jared! Tell your men to stop!
There are innocent women and children aboard—"

"Damnation, Lindsay, the order to cease fire has
already been given! What are you doing here? How—"

He didn't get to finish, a deafening blast roaring from
the lower gun deck making his face go white. In horror, Lindsay saw the ominous
damage to the brig's hull as the thick smoke gradually cleared, three gaping
holes at the waterline. Like a great bird winged by a hunter's bow, the
crippled ship before her very eyes began to list and settle.

"Walker, get down there! Tell them to cease fire!"

Incredulous, Lindsay met Jared's stricken eyes. "You
said you had ordered . . ."

"I did, woman! I sent Cowan. . ."

Lindsay scarcely heard him, looking back to the sinking
vessel, her gaze drawn to the name emblazoned in white upon the prow.

Industry
.

Oh, God, no. Breaking free of Jared's arms, she ran to
the starboard railing, her heart in her throat as she searched the passengers
frantically thronging the tilted deck. Desperate shouts went up to load the
longboats with women and children and lower them to the water at once, before
it was too late, which only set off more screaming and weeping and frenzied
cries of terror.

Yet one man's commanding voice rose above the din like
a strange calm amidst a storm. Lindsay's breath caught, her eyes widening in
disbelief when she recognized Lord Donovan Trent at the ship's prow, his dark
head towering above the rest as he helped passenger after passenger onto a
crowded galley.

And standing at his side, stubbornly refusing to leave
him even as he lifted her bodily onto the boat, was an auburn-haired young
woman holding a sobbing child in her arms, the poignant scene making Lindsay's
throat grow tight.

"
Corie
!"

Chapter 30

Jared heard Lindsay's hoarse outcry at the same moment
one of his men shouted to him from high in the mainmast rigging, the sailor
waving wildly at the horizon.

"
Cap'n
, man-of-war
approaching from the south, seventy-four-gunner!"

Cursing, Jared wrenched the spyglass from his belt; his
gut clenched at the sight of not one warship cruising at full sail toward them,
but three—the vessels abandoning the convoy of seven merchantmen stretching
behind them that, he realized too late, must have included his latest quarry as
well. Now there was no time to help the people aboard the foundering ship, not
if the
Vengeance
was to escape—

"
Cap'n
, look, she's
going over the side!"

Jared spun around, his heart lurching as Lindsay
grabbed a fistful of rigging from her precarious perch atop the railing and
swung over to the sinking vessel. A powerfully built man with hair as jet-black
as Walker's caught her and hauled her safely aboard. A man Jared knew he had
seen before . . .

Terrified shrieks rent the air as the brig suddenly
listed further to port and he knew, too, with a certainty as sure as that he
breathed, that he couldn't leave Lindsay behind.

Damn Cowan, why hadn't he repeated the order not to
fire? The
Industry
was sinking; there
was no choice even to be made. God help him, if they left now, Lindsay and
those innocent people could drown before help ever arrived. And what if those
bloody cruisers chose not to stop at all just so they might chase him?

"Walker, send our men over to help! She's settling
too fast for us to lower the boats—helmsman, bring her closer in!"

As the deck exploded in commotion, sailors who'd served
Jared so loyally for years leaving their cannon to grab rigging and swing over
to the other ship, Jared caught a rope, too, and lunged into the air, to land
squarely on the listing deck. Already the stricken vessel's passengers and crew
were scrambling from the longboats, now useless, a host of frightened faces
looking to the
Vengeance
for
deliverance as the schooner scraped alongside the brig, heavy planks dropped at
once atop the railings.

"Over the side! All of you, now!" Jared
roared, searching for Lindsay, who was nowhere to be seen. Then he spied her
ducking into the ship's hold and he knew she'd gone to see if anyone below
needed help. His gut clenched all the tighter. Damn the woman, must she think
of everyone but herself? The sea would claim this vessel in a few moments, no
more!