The Pirate Bride (2 page)

And some protests from Logan’s own.

Red Robert lifted a hand. The muttering went silent. “We shall fight until first blood,” he called out gruffly.

“Are you afraid of Lord Haggerty’s prowess?” Jamie shouted out.

Logan wished the man silent. They were hardly in a position to aggravate their opponents.

“I don’t intend to sacrifice a fine ransom or ready muscles for the oars,” Red returned, unruffled.

“Well?” demanded one of Red’s fellows. “Do we get on with this or not?”

Logan leapt nimbly upon the ship’s rail to make his way to the other ship’s deck. Alone among the ruffians and sea robbers, he stood his ground. He stared at the slender and oddly aesthetic pirate, then dipped a deep and sweeping bow. “At your convenience, Captain.”

“Clear the deck,” Red Robert said, and it wasn’t a resounding, thunderous shout, but a quiet command, still instantly obeyed.

“He needs a second!” Jamie McDougall called, and leapt across to stand, white-faced, fists clenched, at Logan’s side.

Jamie McDougall was a good and loyal friend, Logan thought. They had a long history together. Jamie would not, apparently
could
not, leave him now.

Red Robert pulled his sword from the handsome scabbard belted about his hip. He swept a courtly bow to Logan. “At your convenience, m’lord.”

“Nay, sir, at yours,” Logan said softly.

It might have been a casual meeting on the street. At first they circled one another carefully, each trying to assess the measure and mettle of the other man. Neither of them appeared the least concerned. Logan saw a smile twitch at the pirate’s lips. This close, he saw that the captain was indeed very young.

He wondered that the pirate captain, however youthful and—perhaps?—inexperienced he might be, had not shed the crimson coat. He was clad in shirt and breeches himself, allowing a far greater freedom of movement.

But his opponent seemed perfectly comfortable in his coat.

He certainly wasn’t about to suggest his opponent remove it. Why offer his foe any advantage?

“Get ’im, Red!” cried gray-haired Hagar, and a chant went up among the pirates.

Not to be outdone, Logan’s own crew called encouragement to him.

“Take the sea robber, m’lord! Take him!” Jamie shouted.

“Red, watch his footwork,” warned the man named Brendan.

“He’s a scurvy sea rat, m’lord!” cried someone from his own deck. Richard Darnley, Logan thought, a good young sailor, and a man intent on making his way in the world.

Young and stalwart. A man who deserved a long life and the fulfillment of his dreams.

Red Robert continued to assess him.

And then they met.

Slowly, almost politely. A touching of the swords. A meeting of the eyes.

Then they began in earnest.

Logan felt the clash of steel vibrate all along his arm. A quick return, another, then another.

For a moment he felt he had the advantage, but he quickly realized he had thought too soon.

His opponent leapt nimbly against the starboard hull, then pushed off and nearly caught him dead in the chest. Logan managed a jump to the side, instinct-driven, and he was certain that saved his life. But it had been close. Far too close. They were fighting only until first blood was drawn. But had the pirate made good on that last lunge…

It wasn’t to be a gentlemanly duel, Logan realized.

“M’lord, watch the wretched sea robber,” Jamie warned him.

Logan came on hard with a series of quick thrusts and slashes, forcing his opponent back again. Just when he thought he had the pirate nearly cornered against the master’s cabin, Red Robert once again made a sudden sweeping leap that sent him bouncing off a storage bin. This time when he came about, it was to nearly sever Logan’s head from his body.

Instinct had driven him to duck, keeping life and skull intact. Barely. His opponent was as adept with a sword as he’d claimed, and clearly not at all afraid of shedding blood or lopping off limbs.

Logan caught a glimpse of the pirate’s eyes.

They were narrowed and deadly.

The chanting, the jests, the encouragement, the hoots of derision, all seemed to be getting louder and louder, like a growing storm.

The pirate’s face was flushed. Red Robert wore his name well at that moment, Logan reflected, hoping he was seeing a sign of weakness. Perhaps the pirate had been a bit too impressed with his own skill. A more than respectable skill, certainly, but no man was assured of victory.

He had to take the advantage now, Logan knew. A very large part of excellence in swordsmanship lay in the mind, in creating a strategy for using a man’s talents most effectively. A heavy man used his weight and strength, a nimble man his agility. To best this pirate, he had to assess each leap and slide the man might take beforehand, then be somewhere else when the strike came.

Once again the pirate took to the air, this time landing atop a rum barrel. And in that split second, Logan anticipated the man’s next move, a rapid leap that would bring the pirate behind him.

Logan whirled around. In that brief moment, he prayed he hadn’t anticipated in error and that the pirate would not come down behind his current position.

He didn’t.

Too late, Red Robert saw that his move had been predicted.

He landed facing Logan.

And Logan set the point of his blade against the pirate’s throat.

Blue eyes gazed at him with fury, and yet he was certain the pirate was not so much angry with him as he was with himself for being outmaneuvered.

“Good calculation,” Robert said, barely managing to unclench his teeth.

Logan withdrew the point of his sword and bowed.

As he stood, he found the pirate’s blade at his throat.

It was his turn for anger.

“You, Captain, are not a man of your word. I have bested you.”

The pirate gloated. “First blood. You did not draw blood.”

“Only because I chose not to cause injury. But an agreement has been made, and I am an honest man.”

“But I am a pirate.”

“A pirate’s honor is said to be greater than the average man’s.”

“And what do you know of a pirate’s honor?” Red Robert demanded.

“I have sailed these seas for many years.”

Red Robert’s sword began to drop.

Still angry, Logan reacted, slashing hard against his opponent’s blade and all but sending it flying. He quickly nicked the fellow’s cheek; a tiny dot of blood appeared.

“First blood,” he said icily.

Red Robert didn’t even blink. Nor did he touch the drop of blood upon his cheek.

He merely turned away, striding toward the door to the master’s cabin, where he paused, looking back and speaking to his men. “The cargo of our Lord Captain’s ship shall be evenly divided. His men may proceed upon their path when our split of the goods has been taken.”

“What of the captain himself?” Brendan asked.

“Take him below to the brig, of course,” Red Robert said. Those icy blue eyes met Logan’s across the deck. “He is an honorable man. He will go without skirmish, as he has sworn, I am certain.”

“And if I were not a gentleman? If I were to protest now?” Logan inquired.

“You drew first blood, but I’m quite certain you realize I do not exaggerate my ability at swordsmanship,” Red Robert said tightly. “I am equally adept with a cat-o’-nine-tails. But that’s really no matter, is it? You gave your word. And you are a man of honor.”

The pirate captain turned to enter the cabin.

“Wait!” Logan demanded.

Red Robert turned back.

“I would request a moment with my first mate. To give instructions.”

“As you wish.”

“You’re not afraid it’s a trick?” he could not help but ask.

“Why would I be afraid? I repeat, you have assured me that you are a man of your word.”

Red Robert stepped through the cabin door.

Logan stood tall and straight, watching the door close. He felt as if he were trembling inside, but he could not—would not—let it show. He had achieved his aim; his men would live. They would sail on to South Carolina.

“My lad, my fine lord,” Jamie said, and it sounded as if he were choking. He did not stand on ceremony. He gripped Logan’s shoulders tightly, staring into his eyes with misery.

“Jamie, my good fellow. I’m quite all right. You will sail on with the others and see to my release. I believe our patrons will be glad half their treasure has survived, and you must ensure that we receive the promised cut. Forty percent. Don’t take less.”

“Aye, captain.”

Logan saw that Brendan was leading a ten-man crew across to his ship.

Even from this distance, he could tell that his own men were tight-lipped and stiff, barely moving.

“Help with the divide,” he called out, his voice strong. “We have made a deal, and it will be kept. Hinder no man of the pirate ship in his effort to take what is his.”

“Ye heard the captain!” Jamie roared.

“Go, my friend. See to it,” Logan told him.

Jamie nodded, deep sorrow in his eyes. The old salt actually looked as if he were about to cry.

“I have survived thus far,” Logan assured him softly. He forced a cocky smile. “I guarantee you, I shall continue to do so.”

“I will find a way to kill these blasted brigands,” Jamie swore. “I’ll not rest ’til I’ve met whatever ransom this pirate requires and seen you freed.”

“You are a good man, Jamie. We will meet again.”

“M’lord…”

“Tell Cassandra…” Logan began.

“Aye?”

“Tell her that I am deeply sorry. But that…that I pray—no, I demand!—that she choose whatever path now lies open to her for happiness.”

“Nay, my lord!”

“You will tell her so, Jamie. Swear it to me.”

“I cannot—”

“You can. You must. Swear it, Jamie.”

Jamie hung his head. “Aye, Logan. As you wish.”

“Go with God, Jamie.”

Jamie, a fierce and bitter look upon his face, glanced toward the captain’s cabin.

“I pray that God will be with you, for surely he has abandoned all other men here.”

“He helps those who help themselves, so it is said, and I am quite capable of helping myself, as you know, my friend.”

Jamie nodded tightly, then turned quickly and moved on.

Logan remained.

Feeling the breeze.

The sea…the air…the sweet cry of the wind. They all meant freedom to him. He had never realized just how much until this moment. Amazing how he had never before realized how much he had loved freedom.

But then…

It was a long time since he had been a prisoner.

That had been another lifetime. But he hadn’t forgotten.

After all, that memory was half the reason for the fool trip that had brought him to this fate.

“M’lord Captain?”

There was just a hint of mockery in the words.

Brendan stood at his side, watching him. The fellow neither smiled nor goaded him as he continued. “I’m afraid your presence is required. In the brig.”

Logan nodded.

The man carried shackles, he noticed.

“There is no need for those,” he said. “Merely show me the way.”

The man did so, first looking toward his captain’s cabin, then sweeping an arm toward the steps that led down to the hold.

With one last glance at the brilliant blue sky, Logan headed for the steps.

They seemed to lead to blackness, to an abyss.

But one no darker than his heart.

To take risks was one thing.

To lose all…

Quite another.

His men had lived. And he thanked God that in all his years, even through his bouts of rage-inspired madness, he had never forced others to perish on any quest of his making.

He had never meant to sell his soul.

But as he descended into the darkness, he wondered if he had lost it anyway.

T
HE SOUND WAS
haunting, would always be haunting…

There were hoofbeats coming like thunder. A slow rumble at first, like a tremor pulsing beneath the earth. With the first vibration, it seemed as if the birds screamed, followed by the rushing of the wind. The sound of the hoofbeats grew louder, the quivering of the earth, deeper. Then, a mere heartbeat later, the pounding hooves came ripping through grass and dirt, striking sparks off rock, shaking the world.

By the time the horses raced into view, there was screaming everywhere. People were running, desperate.

The thunder was upon them. As loud as if a bolt of lightning had struck the ground and blasted a hole through the globe.

Then…

A sword, glittering in the sun.

The blood, a cascade of it, gushing, flying…turning the blue day to red.

And the bodies…

Red awoke gasping, stunned and frightened, but aware that someone was there, someone with strong hands, and a frantic and yet somehow reassuring whisper.

“Stop. Don’t scream.”

Red let out a shaky sigh, gulping for air, but remained silent.

“You haven’t had the nightmare in a long time.”

Red nodded.

“It was the fight,” Brendan said.

“I don’t know what it was,” Red said curtly.

“I do,” Brendan said. “It was the duel.”

Red was silent.

“Do you think he knows?” Brendan asked anxiously.

Red straightened and rose, escaping Brendan’s touch, to pace the confines of the master’s cabin.

“I don’t know.”

“You scared me to death, you know,” Brendan said, getting to his feet, as well. He caught Red by the shoulders and looked into those striking blue eyes. “You could have been killed.”

“I could have been killed a dozen times over the past few years,” Red said.

That was true enough.

Brendan released Red and began pacing himself. “The fellow is clever, too clever. I mean, what fool transporting such treasure would dare such a brazen ploy? God knows, most pirates would not have bowed to such a bargain.”

Red sank down on the elaborate sofa that flanked the handsome mahogany desk. “No?” The reply was dry. “I seem to recall successfully using a similar ploy against the great Blackbeard himself.”

Brendan paused and stared at Red. “Blackbeard told me he was amazed when he met you, fascinated, and that he thought you such a
pretty
boy it amused him not to kill you. He seemed quite baffled by his own response.”

“I beat even the great Edward Teach fairly,” Red told him indignantly.

Brendan shook his head. “Only because at first he was laughing so hard that he underestimated you. He knew you were a woman, Bobbie. He admired you tremendously.”

“A good thing, since he is still a friend and has kept my secret,” she said sharply. “And that is the thing, Brendan. Most the fellows we run into are vermin-ridden and desperate men, keen on making their fortunes—yet easily swayed by a bottle of rum and a whore. But even those filthy, rotten-toothed knaves usually have a certain honor. Honor among thieves, if you will. But they have shown more honor than most of the supposedly respectable noblemen with whom we’ve come in contact. They adhere to the pirate’s code of ethics. We did nothing less today.”

“I fear he knows,” Brendan said darkly.

“So what? Our whole crew knows,” she pointed out.

“The whole crew worships you. You saved them from certain death,” he reminded her. “An act you might have found yourself hanged for, by
law.
”

She shrugged. At the time, there had been nothing else to do. That had been her first act as a pirate. She had done exceptionally well, taking everything into consideration. “We might have died, as well. There was no guarantee for the future when we began. We were already impersonating others, even then.”

A quick smile curled Brendan’s lips. “You did go from being Lady Cuthbert to Red Robert with amazing speed. You could have done remarkably well on the stage.”

Red had been smiling, as well, but now her smile faded. “Aye, and what good would a life on the stage do me? I’d be considered no more than a harlot at that, either.”

“You would live to a grand old age, perhaps,” Brendan said.

“That wouldn’t be living. Brendan, I cannot forget…”

“That’s evident. Your screams are terrible. I thank God I was able to transform that closet around the corner into a first-mate’s chamber. If you scream so and I cannot stop you before you are heard, we will be in serious trouble.”

“The nightmare hasn’t come in almost a year,” she said.

Brendan went to his knees at her feet, touching her cheek tenderly. “We are living a dangerous lie. A very dangerous lie.”

She touched his face in return. “I’m all right. I swear it. I will not dream again.”

“You can’t know that! We need to—”

“Turn back?”

“Aye, Bobbie, we must turn back.”

Roberta stood again. “I will never turn back.”

“But, Bobbie…”

She stared at him, minus the dark wig, minus the boots and knives and pistols, the coat and the plumed hat. Her real hair was red, and it streamed down her back in soft glistening curls in the glow of the lamplight. She knew that, minus her trappings, she appeared almost frail and ethereal. She knew and loved her own crew, especially Hagar, who had been their friend before. They would never harm her, and they would die before they saw her harmed. But her facade was a strong one, because it was necessary. And no matter how she appeared in the dead of night, in truth, the ruthlessness she showed in pursuit of her cause, the strength and determination, were now the reality of who she was.

“There are no buts, Brendan. Now, beloved cousin, we both need to get some sleep.”

“I still fear he knows,” Brendan said dourly.

She smiled at him sweetly. “Then he’ll have to die.”

“I
STILL SAY YOU
take too many risks.”

Logan was startled, in his prison below the deck, by the words he heard so clearly. He’d spent the last two days in a small hold, walled away from the cargo. At some point it might have been private quarters for a ship’s officer, but now it was barren of anything—anything at all. It was a ten-by-ten wooden space, but there were two small horizontal windows, perhaps ten inches long and three inches high, and he had listened at them constantly, hearing whatever he could of the crew’s conversations.

They hadn’t said much. But after two days of solitude broken only by the arrival of a tray of food three times a day, along with fresh water and a small portion of rum, any conversation was, if not elucidating, at least momentarily entertaining.

He’d wondered frequently just how long his imprisonment would last. It was certainly not the worst punishment he might have received. No whips had been brought against his back, he hadn’t been starved, or threatened with death or mutilation…but the monotony, after only two days, was numbing. He’d spent his first hours seeking a means of escape, then sought for one again, even when he realized there was but one door and it was kept closed by a massive lock. The crew were diligent and took no chances. Several armed men came to the door each time food was delivered.

He spent hours mock-dueling with himself with no sword, hours pacing the small confines, and hours thinking. The thinking he tried to stop. It led him nowhere.

This time, though, it was very late in the night, and the ship had been quiet for hours. And the voices he heard now belonged to Red Robert and his first mate, Brendan.

Red let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, but what is life
but
risk?”

“Yes, but up until now you’ve had a plan, and now…now you’re risking your life.”

“Brendan, stop this obsession. We risk our lives every morning when we awake and take a breath.”

Brendan let out a sigh of aggravation.

“You shouldn’t have kept the prisoner.”

“I should have killed them all?”

“No.” There was a silence. “Damned good ship, though, and you let it sail away.”

“We don’t need another ship.”

“We didn’t need a prisoner.”

“What difference does his presence make? We may find someone willing to pay for his release.”

“Right. He was out on the seas stealing from the ancients when we came upon him,” Brendan said dryly.

“A man has to make his own fortune, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there willing to pay for his release.”

Brendan grunted. “He’ll go mad by the time you let him out.”

“No harm has been done to him.”

“Imprisonment can destroy the mind. You’ve left him with nothing. Not a book…not a thing. He can’t even practice tying knots.”

“Give a man a rope, he may hang himself,” the captain pointed out.

“He’s able-bodied.”

“Too able-bodied,” Red snapped.

“He could work.”

“And he could escape.
Kill
someone and escape.”

“He wouldn’t,” Brendan said.

I wouldn’t?

“Oh?” Red asked.

“He’s a man of his word.”

“And he’s given his word not to escape?”

“You haven’t asked him for it.”

“He isn’t being tortured,” Red said impatiently.

“He could be useful on deck.”

“We don’t need a deckhand.”

Brendan sniffed. “We’re not a large group, you know.”

“Nor can we be.”

“So we can use another deckhand.”

Red groaned and fell silent.

“Look, when this began…I understood. But now…what exactly are you looking for?” Brendan’s voice sounded both sad and serious.

There was silence, then a soft reply. “Revenge. It’s what keeps me going. It’s my only reason to stay alive.”

He heard footsteps; then the captain called to one of the men, checking on the ship’s heading. They were going in a southwesterly direction, and Logan couldn’t help wondering why.

He leaned back against the wall thoughtfully. The captain was indeed young. But for one so young, there was something ageless in his outlook. Revenge, not life, was not the most worthy prize. How had one so young come to hate so much?

Maybe it wasn’t all that difficult. Such was the wretchedness of life that many were born to endure. Some rose above it. Some barely survived it.

Some died.

And some became cutthroats, thieves and pirates.

But Red Robert…something about him was different. He was so small and almost…effete, extremely adept of course, but hardly…manly.

Logan leaned back in deeper thought, and in a few minutes he knew he had to be right about the conclusion he had come to.

But…
why?

And just what revenge could drive someone to such desperate measures?

Logan was cuffed when he was taken from his cubicle in the cargo hold. Brendan apologized, as two men took care of the actual shackling. “Sorry, my friend. But we respect your talents, and thus…well, I’m sure you understand.”

Logan nodded gravely. “Thank you,
my friend.
I will take that as a compliment.”

Brendan shrugged. He led the way past the first hold, with its guns, powder, crates of cargo and supplies, and crew hammocks, and then topside. Ah, topside. Fresh air. It was clean and clear, and the breeze was soft and beautiful. No rain was on the horizon, and no storm clouds threatened the heavens. He was glad for a minute just to stand there, to feel the embrace of the sun.

But then a hand was clamped on his shoulder, and he was led toward the aft cabin. Brendan knocked on the door and received a crisp “Aye” from Captain Robert.

Brendan nodded to Logan, indicating that he should enter. As the door closed behind him, Logan found the captain, fully dressed in breeches, shirt, vest, coat, boots and hat, seated at a large mahogany desk and writing with a quill pen. He did not look up at Logan’s entry, nor when he spoke.

“It’s been brought to my attention that although your welfare certainly means little enough, you might be of use on deck, though I confess I do not trust you. That being said, my mate seems to believe you would be willing to give your oath that you would make no foolish attempts at escape, were we to set you to work topside.” The quill was set into the inkpot. The captain looked up at last. “Quite frankly, if you did try to escape, we would have to kill you. Not a great loss to us, I’m afraid, but as you are certainly adept with weapons, I would be loathe to lose a loyal crew member over you. The choice is yours.”

Crisp words, hard spoken, no humor on the face, the facade quite effective.

“I don’t even know where we are. I’m not at all sure where I could escape
to.
The waters of the Caribbean are warm, but vast,” he replied.

“That’s not exactly an oath. Try to escape now, and yes, you would die, one way or the other. And, as I said, it means little to us, since there’s no guarantee we can gain any reward whatsoever for your life.” The pirate was staring at him intently. Those eyes were…

Deep blue. And haunting.

“I give you my word, Captain, that I will not try to escape while working topside,” Logan said, his tone as level and emotionless as the captain’s.

The captain assessed him with a direct and emotionless stare. And then…just the slightest hint of a smile. “Good. It’s laundry day.”

“Laundry?” Logan said incredulously.

“Aye, laundry.”

“But…we’re at sea.”

“Aye, that we are.”

“But you’d be wasting good water!”

“What I waste is my concern. There is a Bible on the edge of my desk. Place your hand upon it and swear you will not try to escape.” Again, a subtle smile upon the captain’s lips. The young face could be gamine-like, delicate…beautiful, beneath the attempt at ruggedness. “
And
that you will do laundry.” Red picked up the quill again and began to write. “And bathe.”

“Bathe?” Logan inquired politely.

“There’s a breeze today, you may have noticed. Otherwise, the Caribbean is quite hot. What many of my associates upon these seas have not noticed is that we seem to avoid the dangers of disease with greater success than others because we make every attempt to keep this vessel free from vermin, such as rats, and the lice that are prone to so enjoy the human scalp and body. When we are at anchor, by the islands, my men are quite fond of swimming. They have discovered that saltwater is excellent for whatever may be plaguing their skin. So, you will serve—and bathe—as one of us. Or you may rot back in the cargo hold.”