The Pirate Bride (23 page)

“Of course. I would expect you to do no less.”

She rose and started to leave. “I’ll see to my father. And we will be here when you return.” She paused, frowning. “Logan?”

“Aye?”

“Just who is she?”

He smiled awkwardly. “She is Red Robert.”

R
ED WAS DIMLY
aware of a familiar rocking sensation and knew she was aboard a ship.

More specifically, she was on a bed, in a ship’s cabin.

She heard an explosion.

There were shouts, followed by another explosion, this one farther away.

Ships…

Ships at sea, exchanging cannon fire.

She struggled up, hope in her heart that somehow a miracle had occurred and she was in her own cabin, safe, and far from the reaches of Blair Colm.

But she knew immediately that it was not so.

She was in enemy territory. Stretched on the length of what must be Blair Colm’s bunk, judging by the size and opulence of the cabin. She caught her head between her hands, still dizzy. When it seemed the cabin was at last standing still, she got to her feet. At first she staggered, but she managed to make her way to the captain’s table, where she steadied herself. The remnants of a dice game and mugs half-filled with grog were sitting there. Even pieces of gold had been left behind.

She must have been unceremoniously dumped here, she decided, because the fight for survival took precedence. She might well have a chance to escape.

She moved to the door. If she could slip out, if she could find a weapon…she wouldn’t hesitate this time. She would kill Blair Colm without hesitation.

She breathed deeply, gathering her strength, making certain she had her balance. Then she tried the door.

And found she had been bolted in from the outside.

She cursed, slamming her fist against the wood. There had to be a way out!

Again she heard the boom of a cannon, and an explosion very close by, then felt the repercussion as Colm’s ship fired in turn. She moved to the window and saw so much black powder filling the air that she wondered whether either of them could even see the other as they continued to fire.

Had Cassandra and her father made good their escape?

She prayed that they had, because no matter what Logan said, Cassandra was a fitting match for him.

As she herself would never be.

She had to stop feeling sorry for herself and forget the pain that was swamping her heart. She had much more to worry about now.

Like killing Blair Colm, for starters.

She looked around the deck and saw that it was slick with blood. Men were sliding in it as they rushed around to protect rigging and move barrels. Several men were working on the mainsail, and they were having tremendous difficulty finding their footing.

And there were bodies, men who had been killed not by cannon shot but by the sword and the knife, which could only mean that…

Logan had been here.

But where was he now?

Again, it seemed her heart sank.

Had he been killed as he fought and his body tossed overboard to become food for the fish?

The sails were rising high against the morning sky. She watched as they began to billow, and she felt the breeze quicken as the ship began to move.

It occurred to her that she could break a window and escape. But the panes were small and set in broad wooden frames. She would have to break several to manage her escape.

She went to the captain’s chair behind the desk, attempted to lift it and realized she would never be able to swing it hard enough to break anything. She hurriedly looked around the room and settled on a stool. She was on her way toward the window when the door burst open with a resounding bang.

She froze.

Blair Colm was back.

“I’
LL ENGAGE HER
in battle until I’ve given you fair time.” Brendan lowered his voice. “This is…well, suicide, you know,” he said, and swallowed painfully.

Logan shook his head. “I learned a little bit about her. I know several places where I can hide.” He smiled. “And I’m well-armed.” He lifted the satchel Hagar had given him. “Grenades. Four pistols. Lots of shot. Six knives…And a flare. When I’ve got Red and we’ve jumped ship, I’ll set off the flare.”

“And we’ll blow her out of the water, I swear it,” Brendan vowed.

“Follow closely, as closely as you dare,” Logan said.

“Aye, Captain Laird Haggerty. That I will,” Brendan promised.

“If we’re going, we’ve got to go,” Silent Sam said.

Logan didn’t look around. He simply hoisted himself to the rail, then followed Silent Sam down the slide rope to the waiting longboat, the one that had been sent to rescue Cassandra and Horatio.

Once in the boat, they might have been in the midst of hell. So much fire had raged between the two ships that the air itself had turned black.

Silent Sam rowed strongly.

Silently.

The powder began to disperse. “She’s just ahead,” Sam said.

“Aye, thank you Sam.”

“God go with you, Logan.”

“And with you, Sam.”

“Logan? Bring her back, both of ye alive.”

“Aye, Sam. I intend to.”

He left his boots in the bottom of the boat, then dove into the water. The heavy, waterproof bag dragged him down, and the saltwater stung his wounds.

Good. The pain gave him strength.

He swam hard, squinting against the salt and the acrid powder in the air.

The ship was ahead, and it was moving. Picking up speed. He gritted his teeth and swam harder. He had to catch it. And yet, despite his determination, he began to fear his strength would fail.

He would drown.

And Red would die.

Die as his mother had died all those years ago.

Die fighting…

He strained harder, harder. He thought of letting his weapons go but knew that would be folly.

He tasted salt as a wave poured into his mouth. He coughed hard, but kept swimming. The ship was ahead, just ahead….

He grasped for a bracket on the hull. It eluded him.

He kicked with all his strength and reached, and that time he caught the bracket, though his arm felt almost ripped from the socket.

But he held. He held fast and breathed. Then he adjusted the weight of the bag over his shoulder and began to climb.

It was slow and tedious. He inched his way up, and all the while the ship picked up speed and the wind tore at him.

He was climbing up the stern, and now he strained and pulled himself up the railing just far enough to see what was happening on board, seeking the proper moment to pull himself over the rail on board and head for a place to hide. The crew were center ship, working to repair the sails and rigging that had been damaged by cannon fire.

At the first opportunity he crawled over the rail and leapt down silently to the deck.

Burnt and ruined canvas and rigging lay in a pile near the hoist of a longboat. Logan hurried over and ducked below the canvas, where he began to slide his knives into sheaths fastened about his arms and ankles. He buckled on a brace of pistols, then tucked the last two knives beneath the gun belt. He drew out the flare and hooked it to the belt, then stuffed a waist bag with the grenades.

He took a deep breath and waited. So long as the crew was going about the business of securing the sails and setting their desperate pace, there was no way he could hope to slip silently past and find Red, held captive either in Blair Colm’s cabin or somewhere in the lower decks.

One way or the other, he
would
find her, but he had to bide his time….

So he waited.

And it was by far the most difficult thing he had ever done.

B
RENDAN STOOD AT
the helm, his eyes hard on the ship they followed, taking care to keep the vessel in sight, taking equal care to make sure she didn’t suddenly veer and bring her guns back around in an attempt to knock them out of the water.

His ship had more guns, but it was also more vulnerable, being built for speed. His guns were not as efficient against the thick hull of the merchantman as Colm’s guns would be against his lighter ship.

It was a careful cat-and-mouse game. He didn’t intend to lose sight of the ship carrying Red, but he would be no good to her if he let Colm sink the
Eagle.

A tap on his shoulder startled him, he had been holding so hard to the wheel with such great concentration.

“Lad, you’ve got to give yourself a rest. I can take her.”

It was Hagar, and Brendan stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Trust me, lad. I’ve never let you down.”

Brendan inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. He looked at his own fingers, which were white with tension as he clasped the wheel, and nodded. “Crow’s nest?” he asked.

“Silent Sam is keeping the best watch any man can.”

“He’ll save her,” Brendan muttered. “If he made it aboard.”

Hagar smiled. “He made it.”

Brendan frowned at him. He had sounded so certain.

“Sam saw him with a glass from the crow’s nest. He made it. Take a rest now, Brendan. If you break the wheel, we’ll all be doomed, you know.”

Brendan nodded in grim acknowledgment and gave up the helm to the other man. “Is there coffee?” he asked.

“I’ll see some is sent to you. Rest. I know you won’t sleep, but get off your feet. There’s bound to be a battle soon enough, and you need to be ready for it,” Hagar advised.

Brendan nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Aye, mate.”

Brendan headed into the captain’s cabin, rubbing his eyes as he walked straight for the bunk and sat down on the edge of the thin mattress.

A scream startled him, and he vaulted to his feet and stared down at the bed in confusion.

Cassandra, Lady Bethany, was peering at him in terror that turned quickly to embarrassment. Apparently the crew had seen to her comfort while he had been at the helm. Her torn and damaged clothing was gone, and she was dressed from Red’s supply of shirts and breeches. She sat up, and he saw that she was barefoot, with her hair streaming down her back in a glorious tangle. The clothing clung to her body in provocative ways, and he quickly raised his gaze to meet her eyes, which were wide and now registered her own confusion.

“I am ever so sorry,” he apologized hurriedly. “I had no idea you were here. Forgive me. I’ll leave you.”

“No, no…” she said quickly. “I never intended to fall asleep.
How
did I fall asleep when…Oh, God, Logan…How could I? I must be the most horrible person.”

“No, you’re not horrible,” Brendan protested. She was so distressed that he quickly went down on his knees in front of her, taking her hands. “You were a prisoner. You endured days of hell with that bas—That scourge of sea and land. If you found some rest, you mustn’t condemn yourself in any way. Instinct is helping you to survive, even though your heart and mind are fighting it.”

She looked at him, her eyes seeming even larger than they had been a moment ago. “Are you…Bobbie’s brother?” she asked.

“Cousin,” he said. “Are we that alike, then?”

“Yes, you are,” she said gravely. “Except that Bobbie is…well, I’m not sure how she convinced the world she was a
male
pirate. Whereas you are so much more…I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I need to stop—”

“You need to rest and nothing more,” he assured her.

“But…I must ask. Are we going to survive?”

“Aye, Lady Cassandra! We will survive. I will not let Red die.”

“And neither will Logan,” she said.

“He, uh, has proven to be a very good man,” Brendan said awkwardly. He didn’t know exactly when it happened, perhaps on that island, but he couldn’t deny the fact that Logan had acquired something more than admiration for Red, despite whatever understanding he might have with Cassandra.

She looked at him curiously, tilting her head at an angle. To his surprise and consternation, she reached out and touched him. “Please do not fear to wound my feelings. Logan is…my best friend, but he is free to love wherever he chooses.”

“But…you and your father. You risked your lives.”

“I know, but…”

“But?”

“Brendan, I know I am supposed to be a lady, that I should be reserved and not speak of such things, but…two people who should be right for one another, who may even think for a while that they
are
right for each other, are not. So it is with Logan and me. I shall always love and admire him, but I am not
in love
with him.” She met his eyes and blushed. “And so I told him before he left to rescue your cousin, for I felt he had to know.”

“You…you are so beautiful and brave and—”

“Thank you,” she interrupted, flushing. “But the point is, whatever it is that must lie between a man and woman for a true lifetime of passion…it doesn’t exist between us, though I hope and pray I shall find such passion one day.”

Brendan didn’t know what to say. He felt awkward and uneasy. They were so close. She was touching him.

She was beyond beautiful, and though he knew she was afraid, she spoke and acted with nothing but courage, courage that was all the more amazing
because
she was afraid.

He stood quickly, almost knocking his head on the low ceiling. “I should leave you to your rest.”

“Wait, please.”

He looked at her quizzically, once again at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

She straightened her shoulders. “I would be eternally grateful if you would teach me something about self-defense. I doubt if I could learn to master a sword in a matter of hours, but perhaps…I don’t even know the mechanism of a pistol.”

“It will be my pleasure,” he assured her, grateful for something useful to do. And it might well prove useful indeed, for as much as he longed to, he could not promise her that she would never need to know the workings of a firearm.

He pulled one of the pistols from his belt. “The sad truth is that pistols must be reloaded—even those with several barrels. This one will allow you five shots, but you must take care and count as you fire, for you don’t want to be wondering how many are left. But here…” He paused and drew a dagger. “Here is a weapon that you should keep upon your person. A pistol is best at a distance. When a man is rushing you, a dagger is what you need. If it comes to a hand-to-hand combat—if a man were to come through that door, for example—you would shoot first, then discard your gun, and be ready with a blade. If a man doesn’t know you’ve got a dagger, you can allow him to come close, pretending fear, and then…strike. You must aim below the rib cage, and be hard, fast and certain.”

Her hand curled around the dagger, and she frowned. “Like…this?”

She demonstrated a hard thrust into the air.

He slipped his hand over hers. “Aye, but see…” He used his body to show her where to strike. “You must bring him down quickly and completely.”

His hand was still on hers when she looked up and nodded. And then he stared down into her eyes and was lost.

R
ED STOOD
face-to-face again with the man who had turned the beauty of life into a sea of death for her, with years of hell to follow. She could throw the stool, but she knew he would barely notice, and it would only serve to make him angrier, which would not bode well for her future health—or life.

She set the stool down.

She needed a better weapon. She desperately needed to get her hands on a knife. She had to play for time so she could find…something.

“Wise move, my dear,” he said, then walked toward his desk, keeping his distance from her, which surprised her. Then, with a small jolt of pleasure, she realized he was wary of her.

There was a half-full rum bottle sitting on the desk; he picked it up, his eyes on her, and took a long swig. She didn’t move.

“You killed one of my men,” he said at last. “Well, you killed several, since I imagine those who drowned can be credited to you, as well.”

“I killed men who should have been hanged. You killed men who only wanted to live in peace.”

“I killed vermin who opposed their rightful king,” he said pleasantly.

“Do you really believe that?” she asked.

He pointed a finger at her. “You have found a way to influence this wretched Red Robert.”

“I have,” she agreed.

He set the rum bottle down. “The question is, what shall I do with you now?”

“There is no question,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Red Robert’s ship is bearing down upon you even now. One way or the other, his crew will sink you.”

“You haven’t studied ships, my dear. If you had done so, you would know that my hull is thick and can ward off cannon fire.”

“And the sloop following you can sail circles around you.”

His face darkened with anger. “Even as a child, you were ill-tempered and stubborn, and you did not know your place.”

“I knew my place very well. I watched as you murdered my parents, and delighted in killing small babes and wee children. I watched you set fire to my
place.
I watched it burn down. I smelled the roasting of human flesh.”

“’Tis a pity you are such a pleasing package—in shape and from a distance. On the one hand, I think I should deal with you quickly—hang you from the yardarm. On the other hand, I think I should have you hog-tied, and then delight in cutting strip after strip of flesh from your body, adding salt as I slice. Then again…I am a greedy man. And you are worth a great deal alive. I know men—in Morocco, for instance. Men of the most…intriguing tastes. They do manage to get full use out of a young woman before she ages…or dies. So…what shall I do?”

She almost shrank back when he lifted his hand.

“See this scar?” he asked, indicating the angry red marks across his hand. “Do you remember how I got that?”

“No.”

“Your teeth, my dear. I almost bashed your head into a rock then and there. But…revenge was so much sweeter. Selling you to Lady Fotherington as I did, knowing she would extend your indenture over and over again…Then, that dear gentleman in France, with all his diseases, which you certainly would have come to share…He paid me such a handsome sum to see you brought to him. So no doubt you see my dilemma now. Hang you quick—or perhaps not so quickly, I believe I would want to watch you strangle to death—or delight in sentencing you to years of total humiliation and servitude. And where I would sell you now…they don’t endure obstinacy from any woman. You would learn that quickly. Minus a hand, an ear, an eye…oh, when they tire of you, they simply use you as slave labor.”

She tried very hard to keep her eyes fixed on his, trying hard not to betray any weakness. She needed to keep quiet.

She had hope, didn’t she?

What hope? Her heart sank.

Brendan wouldn’t sink the ship with her on it. And surely he knew that if he attempted to board her, Blair Colm would slit her throat before entering the fray himself.

He suddenly started walking toward her. “What I think would be most amusing is to see you so totally humiliated that all pride within you is killed first. Now, this is something you probably don’t know. I can inflict tremendous pain without leaving any evidence. I can hurt you…” He smiled cruelly. “And I think I will.”

She backed away from him.

For so long she had hoped this moment would come—but not like this. In her mind’s eye, she had not been at the mercy of a shipload of murderers. In her fantasies she had simply faced him and killed him—and she hadn’t cared that she would no doubt be killed in the next moment.

Now, though she indeed faced him, it was without weapons.

And now she longed to live.

How had she managed to find such a desperate desire to live after all this time, when now…

She circled around the desk, and her eye was caught by the bottle from which he had just taken that long swig.

Unaware of her intent, he followed her slowly, in no hurry to capture his trapped prey.

She reached for the bottle and smashed it against the edge of the desk, then brandished the jagged edge.

He laughed. “Oh, Roberta. If you draw so much as a drop of my blood, you will be sorry. You will simply increase my rage.”

“I’m not certain anything I can do will increase the horrors of what you intend for me,” she replied.

“Put it down.”

“Are you daft?”

A vein pulsed at his throat.

“I am fond of this coat. You had best take care.”

They could circle each other for a very long time, she thought. He seemed unhurried in his efforts to torment her.

Good. She, too, longed for time.

Then, subtly, he increased his pace, and she knew he was about to lunge.

Time had run out—and long before she was ready. Still, she had no choice.

She made the first move, spinning and swiftly leaping toward him.

Desperation was her ally. Her lunge was true, and she aimed for his throat. She was certain that she hit him, hit him hard, but he was strong and cunning. He wasn’t quick enough to deflect her blow entirely, but he threw up an arm in time to save his jugular and send her flying across the cabin with the speed of a cannonball to smash against the rear wall.

He clasped a hand to his neck, staring at her with pure venom.

“You bitch.” He breathed slowly.

She scrambled up, bracing herself against the wall for strength as he came straight toward her.

His hand shot out, pinning her to the wall, his fingers lacing around her throat. Her air was instantly cut off.

She clawed at him, raking his face, feeling his blood beneath her fingers.

Then, just when she was losing consciousness, something thundered in the night, the ship shuddered with the force of the explosion, and they both went flying across the cabin.

L
OGAN HAD WAITED
. He’d watched.