The Siren's Song (21 page)

Her heart was breaking, splintering into a million pieces. Why couldn’t he see what he was doing to her, to himself? Why did he have to be so pigheaded?

She rolled over to look into his breathtaking face, rubbing her hand along the stubble of his cheek. “Thayer, I’ll do whatever you ask. Please. I’ll help Henri with the cooking. I’ll mend the sails. I’ll scrub every inch of your ship. Just please don’t send me away.”

“You must understand, I’ve no choice. I won’t put you in danger.”

“When you abandon me in some seaside town, what will you have me do? I’ll be forced to find work in a tavern. Wasn’t it you who said working at a tavern was not safe? Wasn’t it you who condemned Hyde for being reckless with me?” Was she being unfair? Perhaps, but she didn’t care. She would meet his repartees tit for tat if it could mean changing his mind. ’Twas obvious she wasn’t above groveling. So she certainly could strike him low.

He blew out a frustrated sigh. “The brethren are a fierce bunch strewn throughout the Caribbean and Atlantic. We are oath bound to protect what belongs to us. Should you decide to sing at a tavern, you will be watched over by those loyal to us. You will never be in need, I’ll see to that personally, and you will be safe.”

The insufferable rake had an answer to everything. Damn him. She should feel relieved that her future would be managed. It was what Hyde had done for her. Instead, a clump of anger coiled in her gut. She didn’t want someone else deciding what was best for her any longer. Starting now, she would take control of her life and she was determined more than ever not to give up. Gilly McCoy would tame Captain Thayer Drake. Somehow or another.

“If it will make you happy, then I will do as you wish,” she said.

The muscles in his arm wrapped around her relaxed ever so slightly. “Thank you.” He planted a kiss upon her forehead. “’Tis unfathomable why you would want to lie here with me. Nonetheless, I will cherish the gift you shared with me always. My nights will be filled with dreams of you, my sweet.”

“And I will lay siege to your defenses.” She smiled, hoping to bring back the lightness to their conversations.

“Will you bring rum?” A mischievous tug pulled at his lips. How she adored that wily glint in his eye.

“Oh I’ll bring rum
and
rope.”

“You naughty little siren.”

* * *

A knock at the door disrupted their cozy sanctum. Thayer rose from the bed and snapped his pistol off the table. “Announce yourself.”

Gilly didn’t wait for the reply. She’d already stepped into her shift when Valeryn answered.

“Give us a minute,” Thayer said.

“Give ’im a minute? Why the devil does he need a minute? He’s gonna leave us out in the hall?”

Thayer quietly cursed at Henri’s grouching.

“Tut! You ol’ bard slab,” Valeryn barked.

“I will not. Me leg is killing me and I want to sit. Open this door, Drake!”

“It’d be impolite to witness Drake without a stitch.”

“I’ve seen ’im bare-arsed ’fore.”

“Aw, criminy, Henri. Miss McCoy is in there.”

Gilly dropped her jaw whilst Thayer stifled a laugh.

“What’s Miss McCoy doing in there while Drake’s nak—Why, fetch me up a preacher man. An’ stop shushin’ me, Sam. Doncha give me that look, ya giant mollusk.”

Oh dear. Sam was out in the hall, too? Would she be able to brook her embarrassment?

Thayer gave her a quick glance over. “Now?”

Not by any means. But she nodded anyway.

Heat flushed her cheeks as the men paraded in. She looked to each man. Valeryn wore an expression of approval, though she couldn’t imagine why. He patted Thayer on the shoulder and was received by a near inconspicuous nod from his captain. Sam spared her embarrassment by not making eye contact, granted amusement cracked his usually stoic features. Henri, however, he vacillated between her and Thayer as if he were a chaperone prepared to give them a tongue lashing for being caught behind closed doors alone. Instead, he smacked his jowls in a manner that she could only assume was his approval.

Suddenly, her positively scandalous circumstance vanished. These men accepted her. Not as Drake’s charge, but as Drake’s woman. A new revelation sprang to mind. They could be allies in her quest.

“Brandy,” Henri said, rather excitedly.

“’Tis quite watered down.” She poured him a cup. “I told Thayer ’Twas an inexcusable sin to dilute fine brandy with water, wouldn’t you agree? ’Tis terrible isn’t it? I see you replaced your bows. They look very nice. They’re a lovely shade of green.”

Henri’s lopsided grin tickled her. “Glad to see ya unharmed, lassie.”

Thayer hemmed and rolled his eyes. “Set the chest down there, Sam,” he said.

The box’s girth would have been cumbersome to maneuver for a man of average build, but Sam, the behemoth, handled it with ease.

“How’s Quint?” Thayer asked Valeryn.

“You know her, hard to understand what’s going on in her head. Sancho obviously meant something to her.” Valeryn folded his arms. Gilly wondered if he’d been bothered by Joelle’s relationship with her crewman. “She wants us to send for her when we go after Machete.”

“You lads know we’re going after the diamonds,” Thayer said. “But I can’t have Quint seeking retaliation. Best we let her mourn her first mate.”

“Are you planning to use the chandelier to lure Machete out of his fortress?” Valeryn asked.

“Not exactly. The chandelier is what’s going to get us
in.
” Thayer donned his bandolier. “Word of the
Rowena
’s shipwreck and Machete’s furnishings are at least another day out. Sam will gain entrance posing as a dock worker delivering the crate.” He checked his pistols, slipping each one into place. “I’ve been paying a trusted man on the inside of Machete’s garrison for some years, now.” He sent Gilly a knowing wink. “I’ll find out the best time to gain entry with the least resistance, probably during the guard’s shift change, and reconnoiter the castle. Once in, we’ll dispatch any lackeys we come across.”

“You don’t think he’ll want to trade the diamonds for the chandelier, do you?” Gilly did not like Thayer’s plan thus far. It seemed too vague and foolhardy.

“Nay. But knowing I have his fine French ornaments and trappings, he’ll be ill and unmannered with anger. He’ll likely go into a rage. Won’t that be a grand sight?”

The men chuckled, but Gilly didn’t find the humor. Uneasiness lingered around her good judgment like a thick fog. “I don’t like this, not at all.”

“Mistakes are born from anger, love. Machete will make an error, sure and certain.”

“Mistakes are made out of arrogance, too.” An image of Hyde flashed in her mind and fear of Thayer meeting the same fate wedged in her gut.

Thayer strapped the last firearm to his chest. “Arrogance duly earned.”

So it had been said, and Gilly believed true. Though the pirates chuckled in concurrence, Thayer remained unsmiling and serious. She couldn’t shake the baneful feeling something would go horribly wrong. “It’s too dangerous,” she said.

“Few things get a man’s heart pounding than danger.” He gave her a heated, slow smile. She swallowed, hard. “We live for danger. The pirate’s way is a short life and we accept it.” He shot a look to crusty, stale Henri wiping brandy from his hoary beard. “But there are some jack tars who live forever.”

“If I am to understand, you four plan to storm Machete’s fortress, provoke him and just take the diamonds?”

“Aye.”

“And kill him,” she added.

“Henri, with your leg, you’ll have to keep watch.”

Thayer was quick to avoid her statement. No matter. She knew he’d take the opportunity to vindicate his family’s deaths. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t do the same if she were in his position.

“Don’t try to argue,” Thayer added.

Henri argued just the same. “I can shoot.”

“I can shoot, too,” Gilly blurted.

All eyes fell upon her. None of the men believed her. “My papa taught me.”

Perhaps she fibbed a tiny bit. Gilly had only shot a gun once in her life. She aimed the gun just as Papa showed her. The sound startled her, smoke had gotten into her eyes, and the darn snake still slithered away. When Papa had returned to the house and saw the gaping hole in the floor, he’d been beside himself.

“You’re not coming with us,” Thayer said.

“Of course I am.”

“You’ll stay.”

“I shall go and you cannot stop me.”

Thayer raked his hand through his hair. “Gilly—”

“Those diamonds are rightfully mine. If you leave me here, I’ll only do something stupid.”

“She makes a proper argument,” Valeryn said.

“You boys sure know how ta pick the willful lasses,” Henri added.

The lines of Thayer’s jaw worked furiously. He looked to his men one by one. Valeryn raised his brow with amusement, Sam nodded, and Henri raised his cup.

“Christ. All right, Gilly. You can come. Only if you follow my orders. If you don’t, I’ll tie you to a tree. Do you understand?”

“Aye, Captain Drake.”

’Twas a small victory. The war was yet to come, and she was not as confident of the outcome as Thayer. But as long as she was by his side, she could live with that. Assuming they survived.

Chapter Nineteen

“What took you boys?”

Drake groaned as Captain Joelle Quint stepped from behind the obscurity of trees on the edge of Machete’s garrison. That brought his little hunting party to six, five more than he wanted. He’d rather carry out the rest of the evening’s affairs alone. He told himself the reason was because he’d be more efficient taking life and gems without the distractions of his mates and the harm they could face. But in the back of his mind another thought niggled.
You’ll become a monster again. Just as you had when you snuck into Governor de Barca’s bedchamber those years ago and choked the life from the bastard. Do you want them to watch you lose control? Will you be able to conduct yourself?

He couldn’t be sure and that was what worried him. However the night ended, he’d be damn sure it ended with Machete dead.

“If you’re joining us, Quint, you’ll follow my command.”

“It’s not only your fight, Drake,” she said.

“All the same, I’d hate to be forced to turn on you as an enemy.”

Quint blew out her frustration. “Very well. Keep it within reason, Drake. You are aware of my limitations.”

Drake understood. The redhead was known as a hellcat among the brethren. She was, after all, one of only a handful of women pirates who could bring down the burliest of men.

“What is your plan?” she asked.

He looked to the stronghold Machete called home.

Palacio de la Espada, ridiculously called so for Machete was of no royal birthright, sat perched midharbor. There was no way to enter the fortress from the water and most of the land perimeter would be impossible to scale due to the high stone walls. It had been said the palace had underground tunnels leading to secret exits throughout the port. Some of those tunnels were flooded or could be flooded. Tales had it that many of Machete’s victims lost their lives in those tunnels, washed out into the bay.

A single bridge wide enough for a carriage to pass led to the only entrance of the garrison. Pools of light from torch lamps spilled over the bridge onto the still black canal below. A breeze swirled the stagnant smell of foul water and the slime coating the pillars. A soldier in full uniform patrolled the large doors and another kept watch from the curtain wall. After their nasty fight earlier, Drake was sure Machete had more men on the ready.

“Sam will use the chandelier to gain entrance. From there, you’ll follow my lead.”

Quint chuckled. “Come what may. A fool’s plan, indeed.”

“You see, Thayer,” Gilly said. “Even Joelle finds this dangerous.”

“Aye, for a girl,” Quint said. “Why are you allowing your poppet along, Drake?”

“She’s not unlike you. Stubborn as an ass.”
What an adorable pout on that ass, too.

“A woman outsmarted the notorious Captain Drake, convincing him to fight alongside him? ’Tis unheard of.” Quint laughed, hooking her arm with Gilly’s. “Well, I think we might become good friends, darling. Yes, very good friends.”

Gilly giggled at her new consort and pitched him a smug smile.

Drake hated when Quint was right. He hated it more that he was about to lead Gilly into the heart of danger. But it had to be better to keep an eye on her than to have her strike out on her own. He’d never be able to live with himself if something happened to her. Hell, he could hardly live with himself now.

His songbird still glowed from their lovemaking. A knot tugged in his chest as they locked gazes. She looked upon him with love in her eyes. No woman ever looked at him that way. Nay, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a doxy or two who would give him their home and heart if he’d take it. The difference was he didn’t see them the same way he did Gilly.
Blazes! What did that mean?

“Enough words,” he said. “Sam, fetch ahead. Valeryn, wait for my mark and distract the soldier on the wall. Lively, now.”

Valeryn trotted off through the tree-lined walkway and Sam lumbered toward the palace entrance with the crate. Shadows moved with Sam even as he passed under the torches along the bridge. The giant, not breaking his stride even as the soldier tensed and leveled his rifle, announced himself. As he did so, the flames of the torches dimmed in a gust of wind. Drake wondered for a brief second if Sam had commanded the elements. Sam was one scary beast. Who knew what mumbo jumbo he could conjure?

“This is insane,” Gilly whispered.

Doubt knitted her brow. Thayer wished he could kiss the worry lines away. He wished he could guarantee her safety. He wished he didn’t have to let her go tomorrow. Bah! Wishes were for the weak.

“We don’ know nothin’ else, lassie,” Henri muttered. The little man retrieved a flask from inside his vest pocket big enough to serve an entire fleet of sailormen.

“How’d you get that in your, oh, never mind. Hand it over.” Drake plucked the flask from his stubby hand.

“Hey now.”

Drake ignored Henri’s protests and took a healthy drink. So much better than that weak brandy at the hotel. He handed the flask to Gilly. “To calm your nerves, love. Hold up there, not too much, Gilly. I can’t have you mauled by the rum. You need your wits about you.”

Gilly nodded and passed the flask to Quint.

“That ain’t no community drink.” Henri bristled. “Give it back.”

Thayer pumped his hand for everyone to be quiet. Sam now stood before the guard. They exchanged words and Sam nodded. He sat down the crate, unlatched the lock and flipped back the lid. The crystals of the chandelier must have sparkled brilliantly in the firelight for the guard bent over to get a closer inspection. In uncanny speed for man his size, Sam snapped the neck of the soldier. Before the unfortunate lad hit the ground, Drake pointed into the darkness and Valeryn, from a position unseen, threw a rock into a storefront window on the north side to the fortress. The only guard on the curtain wall rushed from view to investigate the noise.

Drake led his group across the bridge. Henri and Quint shoved open the heavy doors. Sam closed the crate, heaving it up on his shoulder, and Drake dragged the guard’s body inside. Valeryn slipped through the doors just as they closed. It all went so smoothly and quietly.

He glanced around for Gilly. She stood, with her back to them, ramrod stiff in the middle of the small courtyard. What the hell was she looking at? Movement caught his eye behind the columns of the arcade surrounding the gardens.

“Shit.” They were surrounded by a dozen armed men, probably soldiers on Machete’s payroll.

A figure moved from the shadows. Drake’s inside man. Had they been betrayed? A bodiless hand shot out, gripping the man’s hair and yanking his head back, exposing his neck. Light glinted from the edge of a knife cleanly cutting across the man’s throat. Eyes wide with terror, the man collapsed, gurgling on his dying breaths.

“A man flashing pouches of gold stinks of a traitor, Captain Drake. Throw down your weapons.” The brute Drake had confronted at the Trovador stepped from the columned porch. The nasty red knot on his forehead was as big as a four-pound cannon shot. “Go on, or we’ll slaughter ya.”

They had little choice. Caught so quickly, their situation was bleak. Drake needed to rethink how they would proceed. “Do as he says,” he commanded to his companions. Pistols and swords thudded to the ground. Soldiers swarmed in, scooping up the weapons.

Drake cut his stare to Gilly. She wrung at her gown and gnawed her bottom lip. Her eyes pleaded with him to get them out of there. All he could do was offer her a reassuring acknowledgment. She nodded. Gilly put her trust in him. He wouldn’t fail her. He hadn’t lost control of the situation yet.

“I should have killed you,” he said to the crony.

“Aye, you should have.”

“I might get the chance…yet.”

The man laughed. “Machete has been waiting. He’s got big plans for you.” He spoke to the fellow beside him. “Take the other men to the
sepultura.
”

“What’s that?” Gilly asked.

“A tomb,” Valeryn said. “Likely where we’ll be tortured.”

Quint struck his arm for his blunt response.

“Don’ ya listen ta ’im, lassie,” Henri said. “They only do that to those Machete wants ta get rid of.”

Gilly whimpered.

Five men corralled and marched the group away.

“Not you two.” He nodded at Gilly and Quint. “Machete expected you, as well. He got something special in mind for ya lasses.” The knothead turned to his men. “Take them to Machete’s bedchamber and place them in the triangle shackles.”

Gilly looked at once relieved not to be going to the
sepultura
but terrified that she might be in for something worse. ’Twas a coin toss on which situation she would fare better.

“Come, Captain Drake. Machete waits.”

“What about this crate, Galo?” a swarthy fellow asked.

“Bring it.”

They separated under the arcade. Quint and his Gilly were led in the same direction as his crew, and he was prodded the other way. The men jostled her forward as she peered over her shoulder. “Thayer!”

He struggled against the powerful urge to fight the men driving him on with their bayonets, run to her side and kill the men handling her so roughly. No, he must allay his emotions. Machete wouldn’t get the chance to hurt her. Tonight had been a long time coming.

“Galo, is it?” Drake called to Machete’s crony. “Do you pray?”

“Shut up, pirate.”

“Make your peace with your God. You are going to die tonight. All of you.”

Galo snorted and continued to lead them through a grand door. “Pompous arsehole, you are.”

“One who once sailed with Edward Low.” He smirked at the soldier beside him. “You’ve heard of him, haven’t you, lad? The most evil pirate to sail the seven seas?” The man’s eyes widened. “That’s right. I may have picked up a trick or two from Low.” He leaned in to him. “Best you atone your sins, boy. I’ll not spare you.”

The poor fellow shed his coloring and he snapped his attention forward. Drake chuckled. Anticipation of the blood bath to come quickened his heart rate.

* * *

Gilly’s fear notched upward as she entered Machete’s bedchamber. Opulence overflowed with red fabrics covering every piece of furniture. The ceiling was painted with frolicsome cherubs and woodland creatures. Tassels hung from the tester of a massive four-poster bed and swept down the velvet drapes of the posts. What harnessed Gilly’s attention was the bare wall of huge iron crosses and shackles. The softness of the room clashed in stark contrast with the metal chains.

No windows.
An unearthly chill crept across Gilly’s skin, as if wisps of lost souls circled around her. Evil lurked in the dark crevices and folds leaping away from the flickering candelabras scattered about. What horrific tortures happened there, she cared not to imagine. She had to get out of there. No way was she going to allow these men to chain her up for Machete’s pleasure. She’d rather be shot dead trying to escape.

“Let’s go, pretties,” a guard said. Manacle chains clinked together. “Time ta get ya fitted.”

By God, Joelle appeared far too relaxed for a woman about to be strapped to a wall. Gilly dug her heels into the floor.

Joelle smiled the instant before a guard took her by her arm. What was it about these pirate captains that they enjoyed teetering on the edge of life-ending danger? Joelle whipped her foot around the back of the man’s ankle, causing him to lose balance, and flipped him over onto his back. Her defensive haste happened in a blur, catching them all unaware. Still holding the man’s arm, Joelle kicked him squarely in the back. Gilly cringed under the pop of his shoulder. The man holding the shackles charged Joelle, but she twisted away. Another crack of bone, and the man on the floor howled. Joelle let go of the injured man to grab a chair.

Gilly’s guard seized her. Something instinctual tripped in her mind. She snapped up a taper from a candelabra. No thought went into her action. She formulated no plan as to what she would do next. Only the pounding of the blood rushing in her ears and the cracking of a wooden chair rallied her on. Gilly shoved the lit candle into the man’s eye. He cried out, dropping his musket and slapping both hands over his eye socket. She grabbed the unwieldy gun.

“Best you point it at him, not me,” Joelle said. At her feet lay her attacker amid remnants of the chair.

“Oh sorry.”

Joelle retrieved a weapon from the floor and led Gilly’s guard, cursing and swiping at his eyes, to the shackles. “You’ll make a fine woman for Drake. He’d be proud of how you handled this bastard.”

“Drake! We’ve got to help him.”

“He can handle himself. Come on. Help me get these other worms chained up.”

Hauling a dead whale knee-deep in powdery sand across a beach had to be easier than dragging the men to the shackles. Sweat coated her hairline and she labored to catch her breath. Clamping the last fetter in place, she yanked the chain. Those fellows weren’t going anywhere.

Joelle poked her head out the door. “It’s clear. We’ll need to be quick and quiet if we are to find the men.”

“What about Drake?”

“He’ll be fine. We need to release the others. Here take this and for Christ’s sake don’t point it at anyone unless you mean to shoot them.”

Gilly traded the rifle for the pistol Joelle had pried off one of the guards. “They’re in no immediate danger,” she said. “They’re in a cell.”

“A cell that fills with water. They do not have as much time as Drake. We save them, and then we can find Drake. But we must go now before we are discovered.” Joelle ended the discussion and slipped out of the room.

Cold shadows of the hallway were broken by lit torches. Gilly wished she could linger within each pool of warm light. There was safety in light, wasn’t there? She wasn’t so sure she believed that anymore. She silently followed Joelle. While she quaked in her fancy shoes, a spot of envy for the redhead grew with a steady pace. She was beautiful, strong and undeterred by the unforeseen dangers ahead.

They approached the corridor in which they had gone separate ways from Valeryn, Sam and Henri. Dampness hung in the air, heavy as the tapestries lining the wall. Her nose picked up scents of slimy water and stone. And something else. She couldn’t quite describe it, but it was a smell bloated with death.