The Pirate and the Puritan (23 page)

She pushed away the plate of
food, her appetite evaporated with the sting of reality. “I can’t eat. I’m
worried about my father. I need to return to Barbados immediately.”

Solomon relaxed his stance,
rattling the dishes on the tray. “We’ll see to getting you back as soon as
possible. I’ll talk to the captain.” He turned to go.

She stopped him before he reached
the door. “You’re anxious to be rid of me. Aren’t you, Solomon?”

Solomon shook his head. “It’s not
for myself that I’m concerned. I am grateful for your interest in educating
Hugh. My fear is for the crew—and that the captain is too anxious to keep you.”

Before Felicity could recover
from his remark or question him further, Solomon left the room. She recognized
compassion in the man’s eyes when she’d mentioned her father. He’d even offered
to speak to Drew on her behalf. But was he friend or foe?

Hugh tugged on her arm. “Can I
draw?”

Felicity tried to shake off her
troubled thoughts so she could focus on the child. “First I want you to recite
the letters we learned yesterday.”

After the letter C, Hugh’s
recitation fell on deaf ears despite Felicity’s best efforts to pay attention.
She glanced out the window and guessed it to be close to noon. Drew would come
soon. She would not listen to the dark voice warning her that he was just like
Erik, was only using her for his own ends. The way Drew had made love to her
should be proof enough of the two men’s vast differences. Drew had asked for
her trust and she willingly gave it, and so much more. He would not promise to
help her father, ravish her, then forget about the whole thing. Would he?

***

A moan slipped from Avery Sneed’s
slack lips. Drew stilled his careful ministrations until the unconscious man
relaxed. Again, Drew started to pull the blood-soaked bandages from the wound,
wincing himself when the cloth stuck unmercifully.

“How is he?” asked a deep,
melodic voice somewhere behind him.

Solomon’s silent approach
startled Drew, but years of living by nothing but his wits had trained him not
to show any outward reaction. He continued with his task, as if Solomon had not
just appeared out of nowhere. “I didn’t think our lanky Mr. Sneed could look
any more gaunt, but I was wrong.”

In the faint glimmer of sunlight
seeping from the deck above, Avery Sneed resembled a corpse. With the added
glow of a lantern, Drew could see that Avery struggled to take shallow breaths.
Each slight shudder of his thin chest gave Drew hope. Most captains would have
resigned themselves to his death. A gut wound was almost always fatal.

Their lack of a qualified surgeon
lessened the man’s chances even more.

Solomon silently stood over Drew
as he worked. The quartermaster had a way of tempering Drew’s streak of
stubbornness with common sense. He knew by Solomon’s patient stance what the
man wished to say—tending Avery Sneed was a futile endeavor. In this case, Drew
didn’t think he would appreciate his friend’s dependable rationality.

“Shouldn’t you be instructing the
navigator on our next course, Captain?”

“I came to check on Avery after I
questioned the prisoners. The boy you assigned to take the surgeon’s place
didn’t know what the hell he was doing.”

“And you do?” Solomon moved
closer, examining the wound himself.

In the small airless room, the
quartermaster’s unyielding presence suffocated Drew. The cabin used to store
supplies was hardly suitable as a sickroom, but it was all they had for
privacy, and at least it was quiet. Drew would have used his own cabin, but
Felicity occupied it. Surely, Solomon had something to say about that too. Drew
forced his thoughts away from Felicity and what had happened yesterday. He’d
already badly neglected his obligations as captain because of his weakness for
her. Felicity and the change in their relationship would have to wait.

Drew glanced at Solomon. “If you
insist on hovering over me, you can put yourself to use. Hand me the brandy on
the crate beside you.”

Solomon passed Drew the bottle.
“Has Miss Kendall driven you to drink before noon?”

Drew ignored him and poured the
amber liquid over Avery’s wound. The wounded man no longer had the strength to
even whimper.

“Drew—,” began Solomon.

“Don’t say it. I know his chances
aren’t good and we’ve lost plenty of crewmen before, but Avery’s been with us
longer than most. If he isn’t going to get the benefit of a bloody surgeon,
then I’m going to try to keep him alive as long as possible.”

He left out the part about his
guilt over Avery’s injury. He’d been so concerned with not hurting the men of
the
Carolina
, he hadn’t ensured the safety of his own crew. If Felicity
wasn’t on the ship, he would have acted differently. Why, was something he was
not ready to think about right now.

Solomon picked up the bundle of
clean bandages sitting next to the brandy and gave them to Drew one by one. “I
still need to know the course you wish to take. Did the prisoners give any
clues to
El Diablo’s
location?”

“Well, that’s bloody unlikely
since I’m
El Diablo
and they know it,” snapped Drew. As soon as he
placed the clean strip of cloth over Avery’s wound, red devoured white.

“I meant the impostor, the man
responsible for Marley’s death.”

“No. They thought I was insane,
asking where they saw me last. It seems the bloody bastard has disappeared.”
Drew thought to apologize for his outburst, but he was already doing too many
things out of character—like apologizing and snapping at Solomon. “I haven’t
slept much,” he added, a concession to his conscience.

“I didn’t think you’d slept at
all.”

Drew waited for the rest.
Thankfully, it didn’t come. “You can tell the navigator to plot a course for
the Bahamas. If the bastard isn’t hiding out there, someone else will know
about him.”

Solomon angled Avery so Drew
could wrap the dressing around his thin chest. “The Bahamas are overrun with
other pirates. Do you really think it’s one of the Brethren who’s impersonating
you?”

A member of the Brethren—the name
by which the loosely knit brotherhood of pirates referred to themselves—was a
definite possibility for the source of his troubles. Of course, a more logical
source came to mind, but Drew refused to consider it. His noble father might be
a lot of things, but not a murderer of old men and women. “Who else? Nobody
becomes a pirate for the fraternity.”

While Drew added a second
bandage, Solomon held Avery in a sitting position. “But why kill Marley?”

“Why not? Marley was advertising
his windfall loud enough. He was an easy target. And with flotillas of His
Majesty’s warships scouring the trade routes, new sources of revenue have to be
found.”

Solomon gently guided Avery back
to the table. “No. Marley’s murder was personal. They wanted to point the
finger at you. Someone knows about your connection with the New England Trading
Company. I know it seems extreme and complicated but your father—”

“No.” Leave it to Solomon to read
the fears Drew wouldn’t even admit to himself. “He’s a bloody duke. They don’t
have to murder people. They can just snub them out of existence.”

Drew tied the ends of the bandage
and continued. “Perhaps Marley spoke of Lord Christian’s connection to
El
Diablo
to someone besides my father. I suspect Marley was killed for either
money or revenge. Spreading rumors that
El Diablo
committed the murders was
a logical solution to hide the crimes. And I think our culprit has to be a
pirate—or at least have the heart of one.”

Drew had long ago eliminated any
of the pampered planters on Barbados from his list of suspects. Philip Linley
might be put out with Drew for bedding his wife, but the man wasn’t a killer of
innocent women.

Drew immersed his bloodstained
hands in a bucket of salt water. “Maybe I’m wrong and the impostor’s not a
pirate. But whoever he is, he needed a pirate crew to carry out the deeds he wanted
done, and the Bahamas would be the best place to find one. I’ll see to the
navigation myself.”

Solomon blocked Drew’s exit.
“Have you considered the culprit may be a certain Spaniard after revenge? They
don’t like it when you escape from their prisons or seduce their daughters.”

Drew grinned for the first time
since leaving Felicity’s arms late last night. “I’m well aware of that
possibility, Mr. Quartermaster. That’s why I’ll do the navigation. And I’m
steering us as far away from the Spanish Main as possible.”

Solomon finally stepped aside to
let Drew brush by. “What of the men we took from the
Carolina
? We can’t
keep them in the hold indefinitely.”

“We’ll drop them off in Nassau.
There’s a semblance of civilization in New Providence since Woodes Rogers
became governor. From there, they can find a ship back to Barbados. The longer
it takes them to spread word of our acquaintance, the better it will be for
Ben.”

Solomon stopped him before he
slipped through the door. “And Miss Kendall? Are you going to drop her off in
Nassau as well?”

“I can’t leave her there. It’s
still overrun with the worst dregs of humanity. It will take Rogers more than a
few hangings to clean that place up entirely.”

He hadn’t been fast enough to
escape Solomon’s probing questions about Felicity. Drew leaned against the door
jamb, bracing himself for an argument on a subject he wasn’t entirely clear on
himself.

Solomon didn’t disappoint him.
“We’re still close to Antigua. You could leave her there. It’s a British
colony. She’ll have no trouble finding her way to Barbados with coin enough to
get her there. We could also find her a trustworthy companion.”

“And lose two days? I don’t have
time to waste. I have to find a pirate for the British to hang before they
decide Ben will do.”

There it was. Drew didn’t want to
think about it, much less admit it out loud, but there it was. He wasn’t going
to let Felicity go. She’d worked her way under his skin, and the joining of
their bodies only made his desire for her stronger. He didn’t know if the same
unnavigable current pulled her to him as it had him to her, but there could be
no other explanation for the change in her, or his desire to keep her close and
safe—even against his better judgment.

Solomon shook his head. “I think
you’re making a mistake. Miss Kendall seemed eager to return to Barbados.”

“Of course she wants to go back
to Barbados. She thinks she can help Ben. But we both know she’d only end up
causing trouble. It’s better for everyone involved if we keep her with us until
this is over.”

By the frown hardening Solomon’s
face, Drew expected him to comment on the trouble Felicity was likely to cause
onboard, but the man said nothing. Drew had thought of it himself. But the only
reasonable thing was to hold on to her.

His justifications eased the
tension in his gut when he thought of sending Felicity away, either back to
Barbados or Boston. He owed it to Ben to keep her safe, and knowing her
propensity for rash action, that would best be accomplished by keeping careful
watch over her. Ben might not be overwhelmed with gratitude regarding Drew’s
seduction of his daughter, but Drew couldn’t think of that part right now.

He turned to leave, weary of a
subject that had plagued him since his blood had cooled and he’d realized what
he’d done. His lack of regret for bedding Felicity worried him almost as much
as his urgent desire to do so again.

Solomon followed him out into the
companionway. “When I spoke to Miss Kendall this morning, she seemed distressed
to learn we weren’t returning to Barbados. She tried to hide it, but she was
momentarily at a loss for words. I’m sure that doesn’t happen often.”

Drew swung around to face
Solomon, hoping he could hide his distress better than Felicity. “You talked to
her this morning? What did you tell her?”

Solomon shrugged. “Nothing,
really. I certainly didn’t reveal you’re the infamous
El Diablo
whose
name is a curse on every God-fearing man’s lips.”

Drew rubbed his forehead. “Just
try not to say much to her. She has a way of getting information you don’t
intend to give her.”

“I’ll manage. And you?”

Drew reached for the ladder. “I
told you I can handle Felicity, and I will.”

“I can see that.”

“Try to force some water down
Avery. I’ll check on his dressing again this afternoon, then I need to get some
sleep.”

“Aye, Captain,” Solomon said.

As Drew climbed up the steps
leading to the main deck, the quartermaster called one last piece of advice.
“If you plan on getting any sleep at all today, I would avoid using your
cabin.”

Ah, sweet , sweet Felicity, Drew
thought. No, he couldn’t think about her right now.

In the dim passage leading to his
cabin, a shadow moved. Drew blinked, unsure of what he saw. The sun’s last
rays, dancing brilliantly against the water before sinking into the sea, had left
his vision spotty. Stepping into the darkness temporarily blinded him. Still,
he swore someone watched him from the shadows. Solomon had been with him on the
upper deck only moments before. Hugh was supposed to be splicing rope with
another crewman. No one else should have been in this companionway.

Drew shook off the premonition of
danger, a reaction to too many years of being an outlaw. On his ship, he was
safe.

The fading sun spilled a shaft of
muted light through the open hatch. It struck metal. A figure emerged from the
shadows, pointing a pistol at his chest.

A flash of instinct urged Drew to
lunge at his assailant. Grabbing just beyond the glimmer of metal rewarded him
with the feel of bones and skin. His opponent appeared too stunned to react. Drew
yanked the man’s arm above his head, forcing the weapon out of range. In the
same instant, Drew used his body to slam his attacker against the ship’s inner
hull, pinning him with his weight. Full contact revealed his mistake. A soft
feminine grunt escaped with an exhalation of breath.