Suddenly, the cart came to an abrupt stop and the men argued. Thuds and grunts reached her ears, the unmistakable sounds of fighting. She strained to hear, hoping for a familiar voice. If the new arrivals were there to rescue her, they didn’t acknowledge it. Nor did they seem to know she was even there.
Perhaps, it was that she was being sold and the transaction did not go well. If she was to be sent to a faraway land, it gave her hope of finding a way to return home. Gailyn gasped when someone fell against her crate, the sounds of a man’s heavy breathing too close for comfort.
Finally, it was silent. Someone jumped onto the back of the wagon and it began moving again. Whoever drove it began talking and laughing. Gailyn could tell from their voices that these men were not the original ones who kidnapped her. However, she decided to be silent. Obviously, they were not aware she was in the crate.
She listened to their conversation to try to gauge if they were friend or foe before attempting to make any sounds. If she kicked at the crate, the man on the back of the wagon would definitely hear it. However, if they were ruthless killers, she could be in trouble all over again.
These men had fought for the wagon and whatever cargo it held. That, in her estimation, meant they’d not throw the crates into the ocean. They’d probably get somewhere and open them to inspect the contents. She racked her brain trying to come up with a plan, but it seemed there was little she could do in that moment. It was either make noise and be found out, or take a chance they’d leave the crate somewhere so she could escape from it without being seen.
What seemed like hours later, her crate was lifted. Gailyn held her breath and, once again, strained to hear.
“What is that?” a gruff voice asked.
“Loads of goods for the Moira,” another replied.
The men chuckled and continued on, discussing plans to leave and head out the following day. They seemed excited about the voyage ahead of them. But by the fact that they’d stolen the cargo she was a part of, it was possible they were ruthless sorts. Pirates even. A shiver of fear raced down her spine.
Gailyn squeezed her eyes shut and considered what she should do. Between the confounded restraints and the need for physical relief, it was becoming more and more impossible to not make it known she was there. She’d tried to loosen her ties, but it was hard to make progress in the cramped space.
Once her crate was left alone, she’d escape and make it ashore before the ship left. It was her only hope for freedom.
Chapter Two
Upon entering the Brighton mansion, Kevin MacAlpin, also named Lord Kevin Chatterton, a pirate and occasional spy for the crown, was immediately transported to the days when he’d been welcome to such places openly.
It had been twelve years since he’d lived the life of a society lord. Every week there were balls, soirees, and musicales. Attire and evening events had been on the forefront of things that took importance in his life. At only fifteen, he had often accompanied his older brother and mother to such events, learning early how to comport himself at the most elite homes in society.
Now, he’d been asked to come in an unmarked coach under the cover of darkness. Upon reaching the front door, it had been opened immediately and he’d been escorted inside briskly by silent servants who barely deemed it necessary to offer him any sort of respite before leaving the room. Standing in the center of the dim library of sorts, he studied the interior, noting first two large windows, a second set of doors and finally two overstuffed chairs flanking a huge hearth.
By the open book on a table and cup and saucer on another, it seemed the room was often used by the family.
That he was asked to come had not surprised him. He knew Lord Brighton, a well-regarded member of parliament. The austere man was well known for his stance on matters pertaining to the poor, which Kevin admired. The man was also one of the wealthiest men in England, which garnered a great deal of influence.
“Captain MacAlpin,” Lord Brighton said, rushing into the room and motioning for Kevin to join him at a sideboard. The lord poured brandy into two glasses and offered the captain one before drinking the entire contents of the other at once.
There was worry in Brighton’s expression when meeting Kevin’s gaze. “I must ask for your help. It is of the utmost urgency that you agree and go at once.”
Kevin considered how best to decline without acquiring another enemy in parliament. He’d maintained a certain rapport with the institute, mostly due to the fact he was rarely in England. Most of his time was spent at sea or faraway harbors where he acquired goods by a wide variety of means. Some legal and some not.
In his opinion, it was best to keep away from his homeland. His ability to move about freely was a fragile thing when in London. If ever his existence was to be called out, it would not matter how many influential people he knew. His reputation as a ruthless pirate guaranteed that he’d be hanged without any recourse or ability to appeal. No person, other than the king, had the ability to forgive his transgressions.
The brandy was sweet and cloying, the thick liquid coating his throat as he followed suit and drank the contents of his own glass.
“What is it you require?” Kevin asked without preamble. It was never in his nature to be anything other than blunt, both when asking a question and when replying to one. With the type of men he dealt with on a regular basis, it was the best way to be. However, most diplomats usually required a more gentile manner. He’d not acquired the ability to do so and personally didn’t give a damn if his way of being was considered rudimentary.
“I require you to rescue my daughter. She’s missing and been taken… kidnapped.” The man’s voice wavered just enough to disclose how affected he was by what had happened. He’d no doubt be furious when Kevin turned him down. However, a strange sensation, as if someone was watching him, made him hesitate before replying.
The man motioned to a portrait, one Kevin had absently noticed upon entering the room. It was of a young woman standing next to a regal hound. With her hand outstretched, palm up to the animal and her lips curved into a soft smile, the girl was quite beautiful. The dog looked up at her with the sort of look reserved for a human truly adored.
“How do you know she’s been kidnapped and not absconded with a lover?”
Lord Brighton didn’t bother to hide a wince at his words, but the man didn’t look to him with the reproach Kevin expected. “Because I received a ransom note earlier today. Her maid returned alone and quite shaken, reporting they were chased by miscreants near the docks.”
The docks. Of all places, it was certainly not the type of environment a woman of good breeding should be exposed to. Why would the pampered daughter of a wealthy member of parliament go there unless there was a man involved?
“Sir, I am truly sorry for what you are going through. However, I cannot help you. I am not in the business of rescuing people.”
The air stilled as neither lord nor pirate spoke. Finally Lord Brighton let out a long breath. “I am prepared to pay and will appeal to the king for banishment of any of warrants against your person.”
The amount mentioned was more than Kevin would have ever expected. It took a moment to absorb the enormity of it. The man had to be about as rich as the king himself to be able to pay such a large sum. His crew would not grumble in the least at going on a rescue mission once he told them how much it would pay.
And yet, a part of him was more tempted by the second half of the payment offered. To be pardoned would mean he could finally return to live in England. After so many years away, he yearned for the ability to move about freely. To seek out a certain family and confront them.
Through the years, he’d replayed over and again how the reunion would happen. Different scenarios always ended with the family asking for forgiveness, which he would deny. Vindication would be so satisfying. Just the thought of it at that moment made his lips curve.
“I’ll do it.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, the man
seemed to shrink inches. “Thank you. I have all hope in you and your resources. I care not how you do it as long as my daughter is returned to me safe. Her mother, you see, is overwrought by grief. I fear this alarming situation will be her death. She’s refusing to drink or eat. The only things she does are pray and cry. I know my beautiful wife will not accept any nourishment until Gailyn is returned.”
Lord Brighton cleared his throat. “My son, he is older than Gailyn, is away serving the king as a captain. He currently is far from England. I have sent word to him.”
“Do your son and daughter get along well?”
If the lord was astounded by the question, he didn’t show it. “Yes, Gilbert dotes on his sister. Spoils her with gifts, trinkets and such. My younger daughter lives here with us. She is almost as distraught as her mother.”
“Is there another portrait that shows her features more clearly?” Kevin asked, peering up at the young girl’s portrait again. “How old is she now?”
“Twenty-eight,” Lord Brighton said, motioning to the door. “There is another portrait of Gailyn in the main parlor.”
The lord hurried into the parlor, obviously not caring for formality in that moment. When a servant walked up, he waved him away. The parlor was larger than the room they’d been in and lighter. The floral wallpaper displayed shades of yellows and greens. The draperies, which puddled on the floor, were a buttery color that added a certain airiness.
The furniture in the room, mostly tables and chairs, was also a lighter wood and the cushions covered in shades of creamy off-white.
Above a long table with a large floral arrangement in the center was the portrait. Kevin neared and looked up at it, his pulse racing for an inexplicable reason. Heavily-lashed, blue-green eyes caught his attention before his gaze slid down the perfect nose to the pouty lips. Gailyn had an oval face with slightly curved eyebrows that framed her eyes perfectly. Her hair was light brown with reddish highlights, where the sun hit her head, at least according to the artist.
She wore a billowing, pale blue gown in this portrait and, at the slight curves at the edges of her mouth, she seemed to be in a happy mood.
By her expressions in this portrait and the other, Gailyn Brighton did not seem to be quiet or austere like her father, but had more of a playful nature.
“Why did she go to the docks?”
“Her personal maid, Maddie, says a note was delivered to our house. Supposedly sent by her childhood friend, Harold Cullen, requesting she come there straightaway due to an urgent matter. The matter was not disclosed, but she was instructed to come alone.”
“You say supposedly.”
The lord nodded. “I summoned Harold. He should be arriving shortly. After speaking with Maddie, I questioned the footman who received the note and he informed me that he had not recognized the messenger. My staff knows every member of the Cullen household.”
“Why would she go?”
“You will understand once you speak to Harold. He is prone to… melodrama.”
As if conjured by being mentioned, a young man dressed in pastel clothing entered the room. The young man rushed in a circle, his hands cupping his face. “How could this happen?” he cried out, tears welling in his eyes.
“My poor girl is taken. We must summon the guard. We must send an army to the docks to find her. Hire a large ship of ruthless man to kill whoever took her and bring her back at once. This is most unacceptable.” He finished by halting in front of Gailyn’s portrait and swaying just enough to give the illusion he could fall. When neither Kevin nor the lord moved, with an outstretched hand, Harold held on to the edge of the mantel. With his other hand, he grabbed Kevin’s forearm.
“And you are?” Harold gaze swept over him. Seeming to find him worthy, Harold’s lips curved just a bit. “Are you a constable?”
Before Kevin could answer, Harold hurried to Lord Brighton. “I believe she was taken by that upstart, Lord Everly. He’s had his eye on her. It was overheard he planned to woo my beautiful friend out into the gardens. The only reason he was prevented from it was because of that annoying Natilda.”
“Did you send a note requesting Miss Brighton meet you at the docks?” Kevin asked, watching the pale man with interest.
“Of course not. Why would anyone go to that dreadful place?” Harold held a hand over his chest for emphasis. “I did not, sir. However, my dear Gailyn would do anything for me, even if it meant going to the docks.”
Harold opened his mouth, no doubt to ask about his identity again, but Kevin interrupted with a second question.
“Do you know of anyone other than Lord Everly who would benefit from Miss Brighton’s disappearance?”
This time, Harold lowered to a seat and tapped a long, manicured finger on his lips. “Hmm. Let me think.”
Lord Brighton motioned with both hands up as if asking for something to be placed in them. “They want money. Ransom. I don’t believe anything else is motivating them.”
Kevin had to agree. They’d used her friend to bait her. Whoever hired the kidnappers knew both Gailyn and Harold well enough to understand their friendship.
“I can’t think of anything, other than that wretched Natilda. She hates Gailyn.” Harold let out a long, drawn out sigh and once again cupped his face. “God, you have to help her.”
Kevin turned to Lord Brighton. “I will go now. Once I have news, I promise to contact you.” He left the way he came, only to stop when hearing a soft voice at the top of the stairs. Someone was speaking, but not to him.
“Lady Brighton, you must eat something.” A maid stood outside a door. “Allow me in, please.”
He didn’t wait to see what occurred next. Instead, he went to the front entrance and straight out into the night. His hired carriage waited just a few feet from where he exited and he hurried to it. Once giving the driver a destination, he climbed inside and settled into the seat.
London society was always full of drama and intrigue. However, this occurrence brought with it memories that he’d prefer to be left forgotten. He looked out into the darkness that was only occasionally broken by lights in windows.
There didn’t seem to be a clear reason to kidnap the woman. The kidnappers had asked for money and not some sort of assistance that would be dealt with through parliament. Additionally, the delivery of the ransom was not made clear. The message only stated that Lord Brighton should remain alert until being notified when and how to produce payment.
Kevin would remain long enough to receive word of payment instructions, but then he’d cast off and go to sea. His instincts told him that the kidnappers were not interested in a ransom. They expected to make much more by selling the girl and gaining favor with an influential person or government.
It if wasn’t for Gailyn Brighton’s beauty, the idea would not have occurred to Kevin. One look at the second portrait and his suspicions from first seeing her in the library portrait were confirmed. Gailyn Brighton was astoundingly lovely. Beauty such as hers was a rare jewel.
Edgar McGregor disliked the dock area, so he always went further into the city. Nothing was better, in his opinion, than the luxury of small shops and eateries that were a nice change from eating on the ship. Soon Captain MacAlpin would order they leave, so it was best to take advantage of the offerings.
Upon spotting his destination, he hurried across the slick cobblestones and opened a door. A bell jingled as he entered The Tattered Page. The familiar scents of paper and herbal tea filled the small bookstore. He went around a table and directly to the slim counter.
A young woman looked up at him, her dark brown eyes taking him in. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Mrs. Patterson,” he replied, a bit annoyed at not seeing his friend he visited at least twice a year. “Where is she?”
The woman looked away. “She is upstairs.” The young woman looked to the stairs and frowned. “Claimed a headache all of a sudden.”
It took him a moment to form a reply. He bit his tongue to
keep from snapping at the woman for not being more forthcoming. In stark contrast to the portly and jovial Mrs. Patterson, this woman was younger, slimmer and quite attractive.
Her hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck in a somewhat careless fashion that allowed for a plentitude of tendrils to escape and surround her face. Whether it was on purpose or not, the hairstyle suited her perfectly.
“Would you please tell her I’m here? I’m a friend of hers.”
The woman, who seemed to expect he’d leave, looked up with obvious surprise at his question. “Oh.”
When she didn’t add anything, he lifted an eyebrow in question.
“My mother is resting upstairs. I suppose I can announce you.”
“Your mother?” he repeated, wondering why Mrs. Patterson had never mentioned a daughter. She’d often mentioned her two sons and their sons, but never a daughter.
“Yes, I’m her daughter, Rachel, and you are?”
He frowned, still wondering how he could she go and retrieve Mrs. Patterson. They’d developed a friendship of sorts and he’d come to rely on the woman’s sage advice when it came to certain situations. It was another reason he always looked forward to being in England. He enjoyed his visits with the bookstore owner.
“I’ll be purchasing a few books and if possible would like to see your mother before leaving. I will be gone for many months.”
“You’re Scottish,” she said, obviously recognizing his accent. “How is it you know my mother?”
“Edgar!” A jubilant Mrs. Patterson made her way down the last of the stairs and came straight to him, taking his hand. “Come. Tell me all about your latest trip. Did you accost any evildoers? Rescue any maidens?”
As had been their custom for the last four years, they settled into two armchairs, which were located near a small stove where a blackened teakettle sat atop it. While keeping her keen eyes on his face, Mrs. Patterson pushed the kettle sideways to heat up water for tea.
The Sea Lord: Devils of the Deep Page 2
