He sent the next one down, and the next. James moved from ledge to ledge, pushing crates to their dooms. Some broke open, others stuck fast in the sand or floated on the water before half sinking.
“Stop!” Diana’s voice sounded over the hollow crash of the waves.
The cry came from above him. James looked up.
Diana crouched on a ledge a few up from his, her hair in a single braid over her shoulder, breeches and stout boots covering her legs. She glared at him over the long barrel of a pistol.
James took a step away from his lantern’s light. “Darlin’, you have an uncomfortable fascination with firearms.”
“It is primed this time.”
“I’m sure it is.” James hooked his foot around his lantern and tossed it from the ledge. The tiny spark of candle floated downward, then extinguished as it went, plunging the cave into blackness before the lantern clattered to the rocks below.
No light meant Diana couldn’t see to aim at him. “I’d not move if I were you,” James said. “You might fall in the dark.”
“So might you,” she said clearly.
“What are they for?” James asked. “All these firearms, and all the gunpowder, which is now soaking wet?”
Her voice was tight with anger. “For British troops, of course. For their relief on the Peninsula. We are fighting a war with Napoleon, you know.”
“Is that what your father told you?”
“These will go to Gibraltar, to be taken north through French lines to British infantry.”
James smiled in the dark. “The French have pretty much abandoned southern Spain, did you know that? Your General Wellesley is giving them a good run toward the north. Not long from now, he’ll take France itself. He doesn’t need this little stash of British, French, and Prussian weapons.”
“French? What are you talking about?”
“This isn’t a stockpile, Diana. This is plunder.”
“Good Lord, James, what are you accusing my father of now?”
“Pirate activities. I hunt pirates. I know what plunder looks like.”
“My father is not a pirate.”
“No.” James kept his words steady. “Not by himself. But pirates made this, and I have the feeling pirates will return for it.”
As James spoke, he slowly and carefully lowered himself to the ledge below him. He had to move at a snail’s crawl in the dark, but that was fine.
“He’s not a pirate,” Diana repeated stubbornly.
“Why does the admiral come out to this island? Such a long way from home?”
“Haven is his home. My father is tired of the city, and he’s retired.”
James moved down another ledge. “Admiral Lockwood was lauded for his actions at Trafalgar. He was damned good at captaining a ship. He could be high up in the Admiralty, running the war from the luxury of Whitehall. But he chose to retreat here, a hundred miles from England. Why?”
Diana went was silent. James made it to the bottom of the cave, his boots sloshing in the water. Luminous moonlight flowed through the opening in the rocks, touching the hull of the boat, shining on the metal edge of his fallen lantern.
James retrieved the lantern and set it gently in the gig. Broken crates and muskets littered the floor of the cave. He scooped them up one by one and tossed them into the boat. This would take several trips.
Diana spoke above him, her voice shaking. “My father is no traitor.”
“I didn’t say traitor. I said pirate.”
“Why the devil should my father become a pirate?” James heard the edge of worry, which made her sharp.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Men turn pirate for any number of reasons.” James untied the gig. “I intend to ask him.”
Silence reigned above. James tossed the ropes into the boat. Now came the tricky part. When he rowed into the moonlight, Diana would see him, and she could shoot. He unlashed the oars.
He heard the clatter of rock on rock, heard her grunt and gasp as she climbed down the ledges in his wake. In the pitch darkness, with a loaded pistol.
“Stay still, for God’s sake, Diana.”
“I will not let you make a fool of him.”
James heard rock strike rock, a grunt as her foot slipped. He hurried to her, though Diana probably been climbing through these caves for years. He pictured her scrambling up and down in the dark as a little girl, helping her father hide his stashes of weapons.
James caught Diana as she came off the last ledge. She landed heavily against him, her long legs glorious the length of his.
One twist to her hand, and the pistol fell with a quiet splash at their feet.
Diana struggled to push away from him, but James tightened his grip and pulled her to with him to the boat. Sorry, sweetheart.
He really did feel regret. There was that remorse again.
James lifted Diana over the gunwale, and her protests ringing above the roiling water. He pulled her to face him and kissed her hard on the mouth.
The kiss went on, Diana’s neck bending under his assault. Diana fought back with her own mouth, trying to gain mastery of the kiss, trying to defeat him at James own game.
James ended the battle by breaking the kiss and pushing Diana to sit at the bottom of the boat. She fought, and she was strong, but James was stronger.
He snatched up the ropes that had bound the oars, pulled Diana’s hands around the mast, and lashed the rope about her wrists.
In her bedchamber, she’d writhed against him sweetly, her body hot. James doubted that, after this, she’d have any intention of such intimacy with him again.
James tied the ropes, not tightly enough to hurt her, but enough to make her stay put. He contemplated securing her feet, but decided against it. She could kick all she wanted. By the time he loaded the crates, there wouldn’t be much room for her to move anyway.
Diana told him exactly what she thought of him as he leapt back out of the boat. He hadn’t heard curses so colorful since leaving the Argonaut. She could give Ian O’Malley lessons.
James piled the crates and loose guns into the gig as swiftly as he could, packing them around Diana, while she glared at him, not in the least subdued.
She never would be subdued. James had found a hellcat, and the trouble with hellcats was that there was never a safe way to let them go.
The waves came faster, swirling around James’s boots as he worked. Only about half the stash he’d thrown down would fit. James knew how to balance loads, and he balanced this one, giving himself room to get into the gig and take up the oars.
He pushed off, leaping up onto the crates at the last minute, and climbed over them to the bench. Diana sat directly behind him, hugging the bare mast. James took up the oars, bending his back to get the boat out of the cave.
Diana was quiet as they shot out into the sea. Moonlight spilled over the boat and the water, giving the foam a strange luminescence.
The wind had bite to it, sweeping from the spent storm and down the rocks of the island, kicking up cold spray. Diana had no coat, only the thin man’s shirt she’d donned.
James shipped the oars, slid his coat from his back and wrapped it around Diana’s shivering torso. Did she thank him for this kindness? No. Diana growled at him then fell silent again.
James continued rowing, his labors keeping him plenty warm. Once they were about a mile from the island, where Lieutenant Jack had told him the deep water began, James lifted the oars again. Climbing back over the crates, he loosened the anchor and dropped it over the side.
He followed that with the first crate. The box broke open as he dropped it, and all those guns fell to the bottom of the deep blue sea.
“What are you doing?” Diana shouted.
“What I’m best at,” James answered. “Confounding pirates.”
“Confounding my father. You have no idea what you’re about.”
“I have some idea. Keep your head down, I don’t want to hit you.”
James tossed over c
rate after crate, plus the guns that had fallen loose, followed by the smattering of bullets. He worked hard and quickly, sweat accumulating faster than the sharp wind could dry it. At long last, he tossed in the final crate and turned the boat back toward the cave.
*** *** ***
Diana worked at her bonds, hot with fury, as James bent and strained to row them back to the cave. But the knots James had tied were too sturdy, and she couldn’t get free.
He plane of his hard back was right above her, his backside firm on the seat. James was a hard and strong man, as evidenced by the way he worked the oars, despite his healing wound, without betraying any pain. He didn’t seem to feel the cold, either, his body sweating, while the heat from his coat filtered into Diana’s bones.
They reached the cave. James filled up the boat a second time, and a second time rowed them out to where the water became deep.
Crate after crate went into the sea as Diana called James every colorful name she knew. She’d grown up with naval men, and knew quite a few.
To think she’d softened tonight when James had agreed not to take their fierce flirtation to its logical conclusion. Edward would have raged and either forced Diana to obey or bathed her in scorn so cutting she bled. James had simply drawn her into his arms and told her to choose her pleasure.
Diana hadn’t known it could feel like that. James had played her as a skilled musician played a fine instrument. He’d known exactly how to coax her passion from her, exactly how to soothe her. Of course he did.
They ought to have put James in chains and locked him in the root cellar as soon as he’d landed. The admiral and Lieutenant Jack were far too compassionate.
James made a third run to fling a final cache of weapons into the sea. Then he turned the gig and headed, not to the cave, but to the sandy cove where her father usually moored the boat.
Diana sat still on the gig’s damp bottom, tired of struggling. James tied up the gig on the little landing, furled the sail, and stowed the oars, doing everything correctly to put the boat away.
Not until he was finished did James come for Diana. He slide a knife blade under her ropes, and in one slice, had them open.
James lifted her, his hold on her practiced enough that she couldn’t kick her way free. He dragged her from the boat and dumped her on her feet on the beach.
As soon as her boots touched the sand, Diana tore herself from him. “You pox-rotted liar! Did you think that if you seduced me, I’d stand aside and let you rob my father?”
“Scream a little louder, Diana,” James said, calmly sheathing his knife. “I think a few peasants in France didn’t hear you.”
“I want them to hear me. I want my father to hear exactly what you have done to him. He will arrest you. He will — ”
James put strong hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. What your father’s doing is dangerous. If you let me, I can put that right. I’ve been wanting to put it right for years.”
Diana jerked away. “What are you talking about?”
“The admiral didn’t get these goods here by himself, did he? He had help. I’ll ask him whose help, and then I’ll hunt down the pirate he names. Simple as that.”
“Simple? And what will you do to my father?”
“What do you want me to do to him?”
“I want you to leave him alone.”
James’s expression hardened. “I can’t do that, darlin’.”
“Stop calling me that. Why should he answer to you?”
His green eyes were as cold as Arctic ice. “Pirates are murderers. If they’re threatening the admiral, I’ll get him free. If he’s collaborating, I’ll stop him. No matter what.”
“Or you could leave him alone,” Diana said, her throat tight. “Why does a cache of used bits threaten you?”
Moonlight made James’s gaze, if anything, still more icy. “Because I know which pirate made that cache. I’ve suspected for a long time. That’s the reason I wanted to know so much about Haven. I want this pirate, and I’ll do anything to get him.”
Awful realization flooded her. “Dear God, my husband, of all people, was right. You did come to Admiral Burgess’s to kidnap me.”
James had the nerve to smile, the infuriating man. “No, I was there to rescue Kinnaird, but when I spied the daughter of Admiral Lockwood, I saw a good opportunity. I’d have snatched you out of your bedchamber if you hadn’t walked into O’Malley and made the task easy for me.”
Diana’s heart beat swiftly, sickeningly. “So all along you . . . I played right into your hands, damn you!”
“I wouldn’t say you played into my hands,” James said dryly. “You wouldn’t tell me a blessed thing. I didn’t particularly want the entire British fleet chasing me to retrieve you, so all I could do was throw you back.”
Diana stared at him for a stunned moment, then she launched herself at him. “You . . .” She pummeled his chest. “You used me. I let you . . .” She stopped, forcing away the memory of the hot tightness inside her a few hours ago, of his hands stroking and teasing, of his lips, so warm and gentle. “You are the worst blackguard I have ever known. And I am a bloody fool.”
James’s large hands closed over hers, stilling them. “You’re a beautiful woman, Diana. Exasperating too.”
“Stop trying to flatter me. I’ve done with your flattery.” Diana wrenched herself from him, tears wetting her cheeks. “I will tell my father all you have done tonight. Will you try to stop me?”
“No,” James said mildly, his eyes cool. “In fact, I’ll go with you. We’ll tell him together.”
Diana hoped her glare made his insides churn like fury, just as hers did, but his gaze betrayed nothing. “Very well,” she said, trying to sound frosty and failing miserably.
She turned from him and strode toward the house. She heard James follow, not speaking, his footsteps quiet. The fact that he refused to argue back infuriated her most of all.
Chapter Fourteen
James was very aware of Diana glaring at him across the room, even though he avoided looking at her. They were in Admiral Lockwood’s study, windows overlooking the sea, where the admiral had interrogated James the other night.
Diana sat bolt upright in a chair near the fireplace. Her father leaned against his desk, dignified even in a dressing gown, and watched James.
James could not make himself sit down. His legs simply wouldn’t bend. But he didn’t feel as though standing gave him an advantage. Diana could kill him with her glance no matter what position he was in.
Go ahead and hate me, Diana. I’m used to it.
Diana had roused her father as soon as she’d reached the house. Lockwood had come out of his room, alarmed, and yet at the same time calm, as though he’d been expecting this. They’d convened in the study at the admiral’s suggestion.
“Well, Ardmore,” Lockwood said quietly. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me the name of the pirate who has you working for him,” James said.
Lockwood’s face hardened. For an instant, James saw where Diana came by her wonderful scorn. Many a lieutenant must have quavered under the admiral’s stare.
“I work for no one,” Lockwood said.
“You plunder ships and steal booty by yourself?” James was in no mood to be gentle. “In that little one-master with your daughter and granddaughter working the sail?”
“Leave this alone,” Lockwood said in a cold voice. “It hardly concerns you.”
“It does concern me,” James said. “I’m a pirate hunter. Do you have a name to give me? Or do you want me to tell you one?”
“For the sake of my daughter, please leave it alone.”
James didn’t answer right away. Diana, arms folded, still glared, but her expression now betrayed uncertainty. She clearly knew nothing of this beyond what her father had told her, and she did not like what she was learning.
James realized that if he hadn’t been so abrupt and stupid last year, he might have found an
ally in Diana. When he’d abducted her, James had made the mistake of thinking her an empty-headed officer’s wife, basking in the backwash of her husband’s fame. He’d intended to frighten her into answering questions about Haven and then let her go. That plan had gone awry faster than a greased pig at a county fair.
Diana had intrigued and infuriated him, and James had wanted to subdue her. After that, he’d just wanted her. James, a man famous for his cool ruthlessness, had let his emotions run high. He’d even begged Diana to come with him on his voyages. He must have been severely crazed to do that.
But she’d found and read Paul’s diary, and she’d looked at James in sorrow and understanding. James hated that diary, but he’d never been able to throw it away. There was too much of Paul in it, and James did not want to lose even that piece of his brother.
Lockwood sighed, looking suddenly old. “I cannot help you, James. I’m sorry. I ask you, as one gentleman to another, to let things be.”
James halted his restless pacing. Diana watched him, daring him to make a move against her father.
“I really want to get some sleep tonight,” James said, his patience at an end. “So I’ll say a name, and you tell me if it’s right.”
“Very well,” Lockwood said. “In the interest of sleep.”
James did not want to do this. But the memory of Paul drove him on. After Paul’s wife had been raped and killed by pirates, Paul had never been quite sane again. James had not been there for him during that tragic time, but he’d promised Paul he’d catch their killer.
“Black Jack Mallory,” James said.
Lockwood’s face didn’t move, but the slightest flicker of eyes told James he was right.
“Did I hear my name?”
Lieutenant Jack stood in the half-open door, in breeches, shirt, and boots. Diana’s eyes widened, as though she believed the innocent lieutenant to be the pirate in question.
“Come in,” Lockwood said tiredly. “James is speaking about another man called Jack.”
“If my true name is even Jack.” The blond lieutenant closed the door. “Would you mind telling me what you are discussing? It sounds important.”
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