The Pirate's Debt (The Regent's Revenge Book 2) (6 page)

Their gazes clung. Was it possible to fool someone who claimed to love you enough to sail to the farthest reaches of England to find you?

He had to try. He tore his stare away from her then inspected the young woman standing closely beside Chloe. She looked familiar.
Jane, is it?

He cleared his throat. “We will transfer the women first.” But he had to do something about Chloe’s appearance before he did. Without another thought, he loosened the laces on his shirt and pulled the linen fabric over his head, stepping forward to drape the garment over Chloe’s shoulders.

Her defiant, intelligent, seductive, wide, violet eyes bore into him. “It’s you,” she whispered. “I knew you’d come. Thank you.” Her warm breath came out in a rush, heating his skin with a fiery urgency he tamped back before he stepped away.

Of course. The pirate had always been the hero of her dreams, not
him
. And yet, for one moment, he’d wanted her to recognize him somehow. He craved for her to know it was
he
who had come to save her.

Quinn, a brawny man with wide muscular shoulders, sauntered forward, following suit. He offered Jane the use of his shirt.

Jane’s eyes widened, but she nodded her thanks. The poor maid was clearly terrified.

Chloe took hold of Jane’s hand. “I told you God would send us an angel and he has. Look, it’s—”

“Come.” Markwick had no idea whose name Chloe was going to use but he couldn’t take the chance she’d expose him. “We’ve no time to waste.”

“Now, see here,” Captain Teague said, his face straining under pressure, “light as life, I have standards. I have heard of the Black Regent. Aye, your name precedes you, sir. I must have your promise that you will not put these women in jeopardy.”

Markwick turned to the captain. Blocks squealed in protest as canvas rippled and popped with ear-piercing thwacks above them. The hull shook beneath their feet, forcing them all to straddle the deck. Men looked to him in awe and fear.

“You have no choice but to trust us.” He sensed, more than saw, several of the
Fury’s
men land on the deck behind him.

“I do!” Chloe’s impassioned plea kept Markwick from turning to his men. “Captain Teague, we have no reason to fear these men, I assure you.”

“A young woman like you cannot possibly know what these men are capable of,” Teague argued.

“We’re offering these women and the rest of your crew a chance to live, Captain.” Without another thought, Markwick motioned to Jane. “Quinn, take Jane down to the cutter.”

Quinn nodded. Then McHugh, a portly man with surprisingly good balance, stepped up to take Chloe’s hand.

“Not this one,” Markwick told him. He snagged Chloe’s arm, overcome by a possessive urge to keep her close. “I will see to the lady’s safety myself.” He glanced around the deck to the unhappy faces of the
Mohegan’s
crew. “How many more are left?”

“Women? None.” Teague inspected the faces of his crew. “This is all that remains of us. The rest of my men met their deaths on the rocks or while trying to swim ashore.”

“Nasty business.” Markwick spat. “We don’t abide wreckers.” He did a fast count, keeping his mind on the task they faced. Fourteen. “How many numbered your crew?”

“When we left Torquay? Fifty hands.”

Fifty? That meant those damned scavengers had murdered thirty-six men!

“Very well. We cannot change what has passed, but perhaps we can turn this to our advantage. I’ll take Lady Chloe first. Send your men over the bridge after me. One at a time. Understood? We have no idea how sturdy our bridge will prove to be or how long the
Mohegan
will remain afloat.”

Captain Teague organized his men. “We’ll rig the mast and hold it steady while the transfer is done.” Determination glinted in his eyes.

“Thank you, Captain.” But Markwick understood the man’s intent. He’d been trained well. He wouldn’t leave the bridge until the last man had gone across. Could Markwick blame him?
The Bible verse,
He who is first must be last,
came to mind
.

Teague nodded as if a silent communication sparked between them. He did not intend to leave his ship. “Owens, Tindle, take hold of the line there.”

When the men had done his bidding, Markwick gave Quinn a nod.

Quinn grabbed Jane by the hand. “No.” She pulled away. “I cannot leave m’lady.
She
must go first.”

“Crazy wench,” Quinn fussed, grappling at her resistant form. “You’re going to get killed.”

“Jane is
not
crazy.” Chloe tried to jerk out of Markwick’s reach, but he held her fast. She turned to him, her pleading stare knifing into his heart. “She cannot swim. She’s afraid. Please. I
know
you care. Take Jane first. Get her to safety.” Her attention settled back on Jane. “Once I know
you
are safe, I shall follow.”

Jane nodded, albeit slowly, as if Chloe had settled her fears somewhat. She raised her gaze to meet Quinn’s. “I’m f-frightened.”

Quinn’s demeanor instantly softened. “Why, it’s no different than steppin’ out on a bright sunny day, lass. Follow me,” he said, stepping onto the beam, then lifting her up to follow. “That’s it. Don’t look down. I won’t let go. I promise.”

“Quinn, is it?” At Quinn’s nod, Chloe smiled and called out. “He’s almost as big as a tree! Quite capable of protecting you, Jane. I assure you.”

Instinctively, Markwick put his arm around Chloe’s shoulders. How good of her to insist a servant in her care should be led to safety first. Chloe’s concern for her maid surprised Markwick, but it shouldn’t have. He recalled how she always thought of others before considering her own needs. Hadn’t she been the one to encourage the Duchess of Blackmoor to move on with her life, to allow Markwick to help her manage her unentailed estate, and then, after a year of mourning, accept his marriage proposal at the expense of Chloe’s own apparent feelings for him? Wasn’t that the truest form of unconditional love? She’d valued his and her friend’s happiness over her own.

A knot rose in his throat.

Quinn descended to the cutter with Jane, who twice found herself wrapped in her colossal protector’s arms upon unfortunate missteps. With each one, Chloe tightened her grip on Markwick’s arm and sucked in a breath. The action burned Markwick, traveling to his extremities and his very core, making him ache to know what her touch would feel like elsewhere on his body. If the merest contact coursed through and through him with unexplainable fiery heat, a heat he’d never experienced before, what would a kiss bring?

He dropped her hand as if he’d been stung and sought distance between them as Quinn and Jane found purchase in the waiting boat.

“Are you ready?” he asked Chloe.

“Yes . . . I-I am ready.” Her voice shook only slightly, proving she did trust him no matter who she thought he was.

He couldn’t afford to lose her, not after Blackmoor had charged him with bringing her home safely, not when his best friend depended on his aid whether he knew it or not.

He reached for the bundle she held in her arms. “This will only hinder your safety.”

She yanked the satchel back. “Books are my life!”

“Nothing is as important as
living
.” When her stubborn arms refused to comply, he released a ragged breath. “All right. Hand it to me. I’ll make sure it gets aboard.”

The ship rocked and a loud thunderclap of sound echoed around them, followed by a loud, menacing wail.

Her fingers dug into his arm. “Promise me you won’t drop it.”

Markwick pulled Chloe closer. “I promise.” He escorted her to the beam. There was no time to lose. “Hold the mast secure.” He bowed to the captain. “Once we’re down, send someone else.”

“Aye,” Captain Teague agreed. “You heard him, men. Control the lines! Cinch those knots tight!”

Markwick saluted the captain, then took Chloe by the hand. Together they moved down the mast, using beams to aid their progress. The way was steep, and broken equipment dangled in their path.

“Help me,” Chloe cried out when her foot got tangled in the yardarm ropes and her shoulder spun out over the frothy waves.

His gaze darted to the heaving sea beneath them as he instinctively moved to free her and keep her from falling. He clutched her closer, keeping her no farther from him than mere inches as they made their way to the tethered boats.

Quinn reached out and pulled Chloe aboard as Markwick secured his arms in the ropes and waited to be assured she’d found a steady foothold.

“Keep her safe,” he ordered, swinging upward and onto the mast.

“Where are you going?” Chloe shouted.

He ignored her frantic cry. Too many men had died already. He didn’t intend to leave anyone on the
Mohegan
, including the officer in charge who was determined to die a hero.

After a jerky climb, Markwick landed on the deck and felt it shift beneath his feet. “Send your men down, one by one.”

“You heard him. Move!” Captain Teague glared back at him as his men lined up and began to climb down to the boats. “Why did you come back?”

“To keep you from making a terrible mistake, Captain. I know what you plan to do and I cannot allow you to perish with your ship. We are at war, sir. England needs more men like you.”

“It’s my duty to go down with my ship.”

“You can do your men more good by staying alive.”

Seamen disappeared one after the other over the makeshift bridge, the process repeating itself until all fourteen had gone across and only Markwick and the captain were left.

The sea slapped against the jet-black rocks, hissing, spitting, and fashioning high plumes of spray that rained down on them before slowly evaporating, leaving a rinsed surface beneath their feet.

“After you,” Markwick said, carefully navigating the slick deck.

“That isn’t how this game is played and you know it, pirate.”

Markwick had wanted to die after discovering his father had betrayed him and left him with a scandal that would follow him for the rest of his life. But hearing that Chloe had chased after him, knowing that she might be in danger, and seeing her now had somehow given him hope. Surely there was something Captain Teague had to live for, too. There was no game more valuable than life.

Markwick narrowed his eyes. “I will not leave without you, sir.”

“Then you will die. Where would that leave your crew, those women?”

“We can all survive this.” Upon his soul, Markwick couldn’t allow the captain to turn the situation back around on him. How could Teague expect him to leave anyone alive behind? That went against every code he valued. He gestured toward the broken mast. “Now, say good-bye to your ladylove. She’s done for.”

Captain Teague searched the
Mohegan’s
disappearing lines one last time, defeat weighting his shoulders and anguish marring his face.

Nausea swirled inside Markwick. He knew how this would play out. The frustrating man had already resigned himself to die.

Still, he had to try to convince the man not to give up. It was his humanitarian duty. “Give her timber and cargo over to the heartless folk who wrecked her, so you can sail another day.”

“Good folk? Easy for you to say, pirate!” Teague’s rage was palpable. “Aye, if I wasn’t so desperate to save my crew, I’d suggest your timing is downright impeccable.”

How wrong he was.

“My timing? Why, if it had been any later, no one on board this ship would survive.” Markwick took a step forward. “Trust me.”

“I cannot. I will not.”

The
Mohegan
listed in high-pitched agony, groaning, creaking, as her ribs began to crack. A carronade broke free of its bonds, the large brass twelve-pounder rolling back and practically taking Markwick down the deck with it. He slipped, and Captain Teague grabbed his wrist before he fell to into the abyss.

“Go! Now!” Teague’s wide-eyed stare knifed through Markwick as the captain helped him to his feet.

How could he leave the man here to die? It wasn’t right.

“Captain!” their crews shouted together. “Hurry!”

Markwick clapped his hand over their joined fists, then nodded, overcome by how wretched fate could be. He disengaged, bowed, and took a step toward the mast.

Timber shifted beneath Markwick’s feet, and the deck buckled, beginning to separate under the strain. If the cutters didn’t make it out of reach, the
Mohegan’s
mast would pull it down when the ship cracked like a nut.

Chloe screamed, the sound seizing his heart, as the mast crashed into the sea.

“Go!” Teague shouted again. He hollered to the boats. “Cut away before you go down with her!” He peered at the ratlines, then cut a length of dangling rope, tugging on it for stability. He swung the lifeline to Markwick.

Markwick caught the rope and retrieved his sword. Without a thought to his own safety, he raised the steel and hacked the ropes holding the mast in place, releasing it.