Beautiful Tempest

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Wait up, Captain. You don’t get this pleasure.”

  Damon turned to see that James was close behind him and not wielding any sort of weapon . . . well, other than his fists, which he was using liberally. But barely any pirates were left standing, so Damon cautioned, “This might not be all of Pierre’s men.”

  “I do hope not.”

  They entered the clearing beyond the trees cautiously. But there were only one long building with the door standing open and several smaller ones, which some of James’s men were heading toward to search now.

  Damon glanced around the clearing. “He hasn’t gotten much built since he moved here.”

  “Pirates don’t make good carpenters,” James replied, and sent his brother and a handful of men to check the back of the larger building.

  Damon poked his head through the doorway for a glance inside before they entered. An upper floor hadn’t yet been built, and the ground floor was open space that hadn’t yet been divided into rooms, so there were no other doors behind which men might be waiting to ambush them. They walked to the kitchen area in the back, which hadn’t yet been enclosed. Lacross was sitting alone at the end of a long table that was filled with half-empty plates. He appeared oddly unconcerned by their arrival. Damon wondered if the pirate had really sent all of his men down to the beach to make one single effort without providing for any contingencies.

  Pierre said calmly, “I see you’re not in chains, Hawke.” And then with an accusing glare at Damon: “Why is that?”

  “You should have kept your vendetta between men,” Damon replied. “Involving women was an inexcusable mistake on your part. We already apprehended your daughter. Catherine succeeded in stealing more baubles for you, which will be used as evidence to convict her.”

  Pierre merely shrugged. “It’s a shame about the jewels. I was looking forward to the money they would bring. Building a proper base is costly.”

  Damon was disgusted by the man’s utter disregard for the daughter who’d tried so hard to please him that she was going to prison for it.

  Anthony came in from the rear of the building and stopped behind the pirate to stick a pistol in his back. “Drop your weapons.”

  “I’m not armed,” Pierre insisted, though he didn’t raise his hands to prove it. “There was no point.”

  “You have one second to drop—”

  Metal hit the floorboards under the table with two distinct thuds. Anthony yanked Pierre to his feet and pushed him away from the table. Damon quickly removed two more pistols from the pirate’s belt. No wonder he’d sat there so damn calmly.

  James shook his head as he came forward. “Dying just so you can take me with you, Pierre? Was that your final escape plan?”

  “I’m not going back to prison!”

  Two of the Anderson brothers had come in, and Drew suggested, “Kill him and get it over with.”

  “What the devil, Drew?” Boyd said. “I thought you agreed with your father-in-law that Lacross won’t pay enough for his crimes with a quick death.”

  “Who said anything about quick?” Drew shot back.

  Boyd snorted. “The man wants death rather than prison again. We didn’t come here to give him what he wants.”

  “Point made, Yank,” James said, right before he delivered his first punch. “But he needs a few things broken to remember me by.”

  That ended up being a jaw, some ribs, one arm, and a collarbone before Pierre lost consciousness. Damon winced a few times, not for the pirate, but because he’d escaped a similar beating and still wasn’t sure why. Malory’s children’s brief alliance with him must have carried more weight than he’d thought.

  When they went outside, the third Anderson brother approached James. “There are nearly thirty more of Lacross’s people who tried to hide in the jungle—servants, doxies, and the men who weren’t willing to die for Lacross. They surrendered without a fight.”

  Damon looked behind Warren and didn’t see anyone else. “Where are they?”

  Warren turned around. “Give it a moment. There were a damned lot of bushes to navigate through.”

  But the captured bunch started appearing through the trees, sailors pushing them forward, and Damon’s eyes suddenly flared. “Father?”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  IT WAS NEARING DUSK by the time the three ships docked on the island of Anguilla. One was going to give Damon and his men passage to Jamaica after they were done here, since he would no longer have the use of the warden’s ship. He was surprised Malory had arranged that after his earlier parting remark: “All for nothing, eh?” Damon had tried to get Malory to go about his business, assuring him that Damon could see to Lacross’s delivery to the prison, but Malory had just ignored him. But he had to try again. If James ended up arrested for old charges against Captain Hawke, Jack would never forgive him.

  “Still no bloody coaches to be had on this island,” James complained when the wagon arrived to take them to the prison.

  As Pierre, who had been slipping in and out of consciousness, was being laid in the back of the wagon, Damon tried again to dissuade Malory from going to the prison. “You needn’t inconvenience yourself. I’m capable of delivering him—”

  “Enough, Captain. I intend to see to this personally.”

  “There’s a reason you shouldn’t,” Damon finally said. “I told you I had warrants for other pirates I was supposed to bring in. Hawke was one of them.”

  “I appreciate the warning, but I’d already gathered as much.” James climbed up onto the driver’s perch. “I intend to get that warrant off the books. Now come aboard and tell me what your father had to say for himself.”

  Damon was too relieved not to oblige. “He found out in prison that he and Lacross had one thing in common, getting revenge against you, so Pierre offered to take him with him when he found a way to escape. I’ve already told him he was wrong about you—we both were—that you didn’t seduce my mother into leaving. But now he has no idea why she left, so that is a mystery that may never be solved.”

  James gave him a doubting look, but since Damon wasn’t satisfied by the brief talk he’d had with Cyril, he wasn’t going to argue about it with Malory.

  “My father is not a pirate, nor even a fighter. But he’s capable of captaining a ship and was given the one Pierre stole when they escaped to hire men for Lacross’s crew, which is why I never saw him with the pirates before today. He admitted they ran out of money, so Catherine was given use of that ship to get more. If not for that, I still might not have known he wasn’t in prison any longer.”

  “Bennett is going to answer for that today and admit that he lied to you when we bring him Lacross. That gives you leverage to demand that Cyril’s name be stricken from the prison records.”

  A while later, entering Peter Bennett’s office without waiting to be announced—James did that, simply opened the door and walked in—they caught the warden by surprise, and he apparently didn’t like surprises. He stood up, his expression furious.

  Damon forestalled whatever outrage Bennett was about to spew by saying, “Allow me, Warden Bennett, to introduce James Malory, Viscount Ryding.”

  Bennett’s expression changed instantly. “A lord? On Anguilla? You do me great honor, m’lord! What brings you—?”

  “You are ultimately responsible for setting a series of nasty events in motion, Mr. Bennett. I’m here to put an end to them.”

  “I don’t under—”

  James interrupted again. “You will remove Cyril Ross from your inmate ledger.”

  “About that . . . ,” the warden began uncomfortably.

  Wanting to leave the dreary prison as quickly as possible, Damon said, “Yes, I already know you don’t have him. You will still clear his charges in full since I’ve fulfilled your demands for his release. Pierre Lacross is outside and will need to be carried in, and your ship is returned in good condition.”

  “And the infamous Captain Hawke?”

  “Hawke died
nearly twenty years ago in England, where his death was recorded,” James said.

  “But we should have received word if that is so. Are you sure?”

  “The proof is that I killed him, or will you discount my word?”

  “Certainly not, m’lord. And I will see to it personally that this news spreads throughout the Caribbean.”

  Of course Bennett would, since he wanted the accolades for it, Damon thought in disgust. But the man had opened the ledger on his desk and made notations to it. Damon peered at it to see what was written and was satisfied.

  Damon turned to leave, but James wasn’t quite done. He glowered at the warden and said in one of his less pleasant tones, “You, sir, have too many other things on your mind to properly attend to this prison. You will transfer Pierre Lacross to a more secure containment from which he will never escape again, or you will resign the position so someone who actually wants it can be installed. If Lacross ever leaves this prison again, other than to go to his grave, it will be your head I will come after. I trust we understand each other?” At Bennett’s profuse agreement, James added, “Then I bid you good day.”

  “He doesn’t deserve the governorship,” Damon grumbled on their way back to the harbor.

  “A simple matter to assure his name is never put on the appointment list,” James replied. “That’s not a favor I’m doing for you, Captain, but what I already intended to do. My obligation to you has ended.”

  Damon stiffened. That could mean any number of things, including that Malory might now give him the beating he felt Damon was owed. Before that happened, or didn’t, at least before they parted, he had one more boon to ask of James Malory. Damon was just having a damned hard time forming the words that were so important to him. And they’d reached the harbor! The wagon had stopped between Malory’s two ships. He was already getting down from it.

  “Lord Malory, wait. I will regret it to the end of my days if I, that is, I wish leave to—I want to marry your daughter!”

  “Are you utterly insane?” was all James said before he walked away and boarded The Maiden George.

  Damon sighed and headed to the other ship. Yes, he was insane to think Malory would have answered any other way. And Jack would likely tell him the same thing. She might want him and was bold enough not to deny that, but she’d thought he was joking when he’d mentioned marriage to her and had even gotten annoyed at him.

  Mortimer was waiting for him on the other ship, and the captain immediately gave the order to cast off. If Damon were in command, he might have tried to race Malory to St. Kitts before Jack was taken out of his reach. But he wasn’t, and while he would risk James’s fury for her, it would be pointless because she didn’t want to marry him.

  “You haven’t said yet whether you intend to stay in Jamaica,” Mortimer said.

  “I haven’t decided, though I doubt I will now that I have that bloody big estate in England to deal with. I’d rather Father return there with me. And I’m still hoping my grandmother will have a good day and be lucid long enough to answer my questions about my mother. For that to happen, I will need to live there, not just visit.”

  “You really think you can still find your mother after all these years? You know now that she wanted you with her, and yet she never came back for you. I hate to say it—”

  “Don’t. I—I have to know in either case. This wondering about what became of her is hell. But you’re welcome to join me, you know. You’ll always have a home with me if you want it.”

  Mortimer chuckled. “I took that for granted. But you know my family had money. I probably should decide if I want to do something with that education we labored over, or maybe find myself a pretty wife.”

  “Good luck with that. The pretty ones seem to come with too many bloody in-laws.”

  Mortimer snorted. “Only your pretty one does. I still don’t know how you put up with that tempest.”

  Damon tapped his chest. “Let’s hope someday you find out for yourself. Is my father in his cabin?”

  “Yes, and he’s anxious to speak with you. I think he’s worried about what happens next—for him. You gave him no assurances yet?”

  “No, I haven’t. The surprise at finding him with Lacross hadn’t worn off yet. I anguished over the delay in getting him out of prison, and all the while he’d found his own way out. I’ll speak to him now.”

  Damon found his father pacing the floor in the cabin they would share. Cyril looked hale and fit, though his brown hair had turned gray at the temples. If he had suffered deprivation in prison, he had recovered from it these last months.

  But his father looked wary now, which made Damon ask, “Did you think you would be taken back to prison?”

  “You sailed here, where the prison is located.”

  “To clear your name. You are completely free now, Father, so be easy about that. We sail to Jamaica now. Your plantation was sold, but I will find you another before I return to England.”

  “You’re not staying—so you learned the truth?” Cyril said cryptically.

  Damon frowned. “What truth?”

  Cyril wrung his hands. Damon didn’t think Cyril was going to answer, he was silent so long, but then he said, “That—that I gambled too much. And drank too much after you left. The two combined guaranteed I could never win. I understand that now and will never fall into that dual trap again.”

  Damon was still frowning. He did vaguely recall that his father had been drinking before he went off to school, and even before his mother left, but most men drank to some degree, and it had never seemed to affect Cyril’s ability to run the plantation. But there had also been the occasional argument Damon overheard between his parents about money, so maybe Malory had been right about Cyril’s having gambled even back then. And if he fell into that ruinous cycle again?

  “Perhaps you should return to England with me,” Damon suggested. “The Reeves estate is mine now. You’re welcome to live there with me for the rest of your life. You will never have to work again.”

  Cyril smiled wryly. “Idle hands are the devil’s hands, Son, and I am a farmer at heart. Be it my land or another’s, there is great satisfaction in an honest day’s toil. In the islands I’m respected as a planter, in England—no, I’m never going back there.”

  “Give it some thought before you decide.”

  “Do not for a moment think I am ungrateful, Damon. Look at you, Son, what a fine man you’ve become. So well educated, you speak like a fine gentleman now. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you would risk your life, your reputation, and do so much to get me out of prison. I’m so proud of you.”

  Seeing tears forming in Cyril’s eyes, Damon hugged him tightly. “You’ve been a wonderful father.”

  “But after all these years, I much prefer these islands, and I have friends in Jamaica, even a mistress I may marry now that I’m no longer wallowing in anger and self-pity.”

  “My mother isn’t dead.”

  “She is to me,” Cyril said a little too sharply. “I loved you from the day you were born, and loved her, too, for giving you to me. I’ll always love you, Damon, never doubt that. But I understand you have new obligations now and we must live an ocean apart. I won’t make the same mistakes to lose this second chance you’re giving me. I swear it.”

  Father and son embraced, and both had tears in their eyes now.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  JACQUELINE RAISED HER HEAD slightly from her pillow and opened one eye to see who had just burst into her bedroom without knocking, but she should have known. Only her cousin Judith would make such an entrance.

  “Are you actually sick this time?” Judith demanded.

  “No.”

  “A sprained ankle perhaps?”

  Jacqueline put her head back down and dropped a listless hand over her eyes. “Ennui, if you must know. The last trip to the Caribbean was too exciting, which apparently has nasty aftereffects. Now, nothing interests me.”

  “Is that all? Y
ou’re merely suffering from boredom?”

  “What else?”

  Judith plopped down on the bed and pulled Jacqueline up to sit in the middle of it with her. “Oh, I don’t know—maybe you lied when you said you didn’t fall in love with your pirate?”

  “I did nothing of the sort. But I might be experiencing moments of—I don’t even know what to call it. Misery, I suppose.”

  Jacqueline couldn’t bring herself to talk about this yet, that she was worried that Damon didn’t love her, that he’d only used her to get her father’s help. He’d gotten that, and now she might never see him again!

  “And tears?”

  “Don’t be silly, Judy, you know I don’t cry.”

  “And yet boredom does not cause misery—”

  “It does for me!”

  “—while love certainly can cause misery for a number of reasons. When you’re separated from your heart’s desire, is one. When two people have unresolved feelings for each other, is another. When you think he doesn’t feel the same way you feel about him, that’s a hundred times worse than the other two reasons. When you think he’s betrayed you, that’s a thousand—”

  “Judy! We were talking about me, not you, and why haven’t you forgotten the miserable parts of your romance with Nathan? You’re married now and over-the-top happy.”

  “Which is why I can think of that time of doubts now and laugh.”

  “I don’t have doubts, nor am I miserable like that. I’m just so bored!”

  “Well, lying in bed all day for no reason, of course you are. But your mother has a fix for that. She’s going to host a ball.”

  “The devil she is! My mother never has parties of any sort unless they’re for the extended family. She’d never, ever arrange a ball.”