Edward's Law

by Brandon, Felicity

  Edward watched as Carlisle strode away, already directing the group of men assembled at the docks. He trusted his crew and knew they would follow orders. The ship would be ready to begin her maiden voyage by ten o’clock, and that meant he had to be as well. He leapt onto the plank of wood separating the Dexterity from the jetty and walked casually across before landing onboard his ship.

  His ship.

  Those words echoed around his head as he glanced around. Yes, the Dexterity was his now, and the thought made him happier than any of the plunder he had obtained from his years of piracy. She may have been the first thing he had ever bought legitimately, but it made her no less special. In fact, it made her unique. Running a finger over her bow, Edward recalled the moment news of the demise of Mr. Jaggers had reached him. The Dexterity had been Jaggers’ dream, and the man had helped design her for His Majesty’s new fleet, but fate had intervened—as she so often did—and ensured that was not to be the destiny of this ship. The Dexterity did not belong to the King. She had been Jaggers’ pride and joy, but she did not belong to him either. She had fallen into an ungainly state of disrepair after the old man had died, and apparently, the King’s purse was no longer prepared to finance her, so that created an opportunity.

  An opportunity for a man like Law to do the right thing for once. The Dexterity was the first ship he had not taken by force, but her acquisition was all the more satisfying. Taking what had once been Jaggers’ dream and setting her to work for his ill-gotten gains was truly something special indeed, and as Edward’s gaze took in the breadth of the ship, he grinned again.

  “The crew is coming on board, Captain.”

  He turned to see Wiley smiling as he offered Edward an enthusiastic salute.

  “Good,” Edward replied. “See that they do. We set sail in just over three hours.”

  Edward turned, striding toward the stern and his secluded quarters. The captain’s quarters were, of course, the largest and most indulgent space on the entire ship, and as he marched up the small wooden stairwell that led to his personal privacy, Edward was once again reminded of the genius of Jaggers’ mind. The gentleman may have been the bane of Law’s life—the reason why he had spent years rotting behind bars in gaol—and his harshest critic, but his head for engineering was unsurpassed. In all his many years at sea, Edward had never surveyed a ship like The Dexterity. She was colossal in stature and would look mighty impressive as she cut through the water, but it was the tiny features that made his pulse quicken. The attention to detail of the fittings and fixtures, and no place on the whole vessel exemplified that more than his quarters.

  Throwing back the door with gusto, Edward gazed around the room in triumph, his focus landing on the sumptuous chair positioned at one side of the space, sitting beyond the exquisite teak desk. Those pieces alone must have been worth a fortune, and now, he got to enjoy them day in and day out while he directed the Dexterity back in the direction of the Caribbean. Experience had taught him those waters were profitable, and in a ship as agile and impressive as this one, there would be few vessels on the oceans that could halt his pursuit.

  He grinned, marching toward the desk to assess his maps. Edward had analysed them so many times, he should know every inch of them by heart, yet somehow, he never tired of looking. There was just something about the scene—the whole world splayed out like a maiden desperate for him, and Law intended to take her, over and over again until they were both utterly spent. Falling into the impressive seat, his boots propped up on the edge of the ornate desk, he regarded the rest of the room. Sitting there, Edward felt less like the pirate he was, more like a king on his throne. He smiled at the analogy, pleased with how well his plans were turning out. Soon, The Dexterity would leave port, and once he put some serious water between him and English shores again, he could really start to relax.

  “Time for a drink,” he announced theatrically, waving the dirty cuffs of his shirt as his arms shifted. “Yes, I think I will.”

  Edward’s feet landed on the sleek wooden floor with a thud, and unthinkingly, he made his way toward the decanter, sitting on a silver tray on the ledge by the window, its fine crystal catching the light in tens of simultaneous directions. He had stolen the tray from His Majesty’s flagship, the Invader, and it was only onboard, he had also discovered the priceless decanter. Naturally, he had seized it for himself, and the thing now had pride of place in the sunlight, its position solitary, save for the small tumbler which sat beside it. Pouring himself rum, Edward raised the glass and swirled the liquor around. Yes, it was early in the day, but that had never stopped him before, and anyhow, this was not just any day. This was the day he took the Dexterity and degraded her in the best way possible—taking a craft designed for royalty and making her a vessel for his piracy.

  It was damn near perfect.

  Striding the short distance to the place the looking glass hung on the wall, Edward paused, staring at his reflection, his lips curling at what he saw. He may not have had the best start to life, not privy to a gentlemen’s wealth and education, but he’d done alright. He was a man made good, and if his eyes did not deceive him, he was a man who could still capture the attention of a woman when he wanted to. His dark locks were pulled back into an unruly braid, and it was true, his shirt and jacket had seen better days, but those things were superficial. He could find new attire, and he would, that was not a problem, but what he could not steal from any bounty was the sharp cheekbones and dark glinting eyes that met his gaze. Those were irreplaceable and the features ladies found difficult to resist.

  Edward grinned as he lifted the tumbler again.

  “To your good health, Captain Law,” he called out. “And to the virgin mission of the Dexterity.”

  Chapter Three

  Alice

  Huddled in her small hiding space, Alice heard every word. She had been dozing when the door to the room crashed open, the noise so loud, it caused her heart to pound out of control as she wriggled onto her hands and knees. Edging forward, Alice crawled toward the tiny gap in the wood that permitted her to see something of what was going on in the captain’s quarters. Of course, logically, there was only one reason the door should have been forced open so abruptly, and Alice knew it only too well, yet as she stared into the room, holding her breath out of instinct, she needed to clarify the thought for herself.

  Her gaze fell over the man who had marched into the space—at least, as much of him as she could see from this vantage—and swore her heart stopped altogether as her brain registered his identity. As expected, it was the man from the auction, the one who had snatched The Dexterity right from underneath Alice.

  He must be the captain. He must be Law.

  She gulped as that realization washed over her like cold water.

  He was the captain—surely, she had guessed as much—yet seeing him there in the flesh took Alice by surprise.

  Alice watched as best she could as he collapsed into the fine seat and promptly proceeded to rest his filthy looking boots on the corner of the grand teak desk.

  “Heathen!” she mouthed, biting her lip as she regarded him.

  What kind of captain would sully such fine furniture? But then, what kind of captain dressed that way? It was certainly not the dress of any naval officer she ever witnessed, and Alice had seen a fair few uniformed captains meet with her father over the years. No, the attire this gentleman was wearing was far less noble. It was dirtier for sure, but more than that—it was less kept and more rugged. A spike of awareness rose in her hunched body at that. It was more rugged. Twisting her neck to take in the look of his face again, Alice decided the clothing suited him. In another world, the gentleman might have had a handsome complexion. His features were striking, his lips parted as he apparently considered something of importance. Alice could not see all of him from this awkward position, but there was no doubt, his profile was fine indeed, and she recalled the intensity of his gaze at the auction with disconcerting ease. He was smiling now, p
ositively grinning as though he had remembered something which amused him.

  “Time for a drink.”

  Alice jumped at his words, the sound of his voice quickening her pulse even further. She eyed him with fascination as he threw his arms out in either direction.

  “Yes, I think I will.”

  He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, slamming those dirty boots against the fine finish of the quarter’s floor as he headed across the room. Alice had to shuffle right to maintain a good view of him and watched, completely captivated by his performance, as he reached a decanter of what she assumed to be liquor.

  Alice shook her head in disgust. She could not confirm what time it was, but it had to be early, based on the position of the light and the fact it felt like she had barely had any rest at all. Who would seek alcohol at this hour? Surely, not a man in charge of a vessel like the Dexterity?

  She could not see his face as he poured the drink, but her gaze scanned over his back. For some reason, Alice was mesmerized by the look of his dark trousers and worn coat tails. In all her twenty years, she had never once laid eyes on a man like him—no gentleman anyway—and at that moment, a potent combination of terror and excitement surged within her body.

  Maybe this Law wasn’t a gentleman, after all?

  In her determination to take back what was rightfully hers, Alice had not checked about the caliber of the man who had bought the ship. Why would she? She had watched with rising indignation as he had paid for the vessel outright, and knowing what little she did of the world, Alice had assumed the wealth must mean he was a gentleman, but as she regarded him now, she truly began to wonder. Law did not look like any gentleman she had seen before and did not appear to act like one.

  Her heart raced as the inevitable question rose to her lips, though Alice pressed her mouth into a hard line, resisting the urge to say it out loud.

  If he wasn’t a gentleman, what in God’s name was he?

  Law lifted the glass aloft in his left hand, his face turning temporarily toward the sun.

  “To your good health, Captain Law,” he cried out as though he was addressing an imaginary assembled group. “And to the virgin mission of the Dexterity.”

  He spun on his heel, shifting his body in her direction as he poured the liquor past his lips. Inhaling, she surveyed his tall, lithe figure as he stripped his jacket away and threw it to the floor. His shirt was parted at the chest, a patch of dark hair visible between the sullied white fabric.

  Alice gasped, raising one hand to her lips to try to stifle the sound. She had never seen a man’s chest before! In fact, she had never once seen a gentleman without his jacket, except her father on a few occasions, and somehow, the look of Law took her breath away. His brow furrowed as though a part of his brain had heard and registered the sound of her shock and he took a step toward the place she was hiding. The last Alice saw of his expression was a look of obvious curiosity, and her heart hammered in response, watching as his legs, then his feet grew closer. By this point, it was impossible for her to make out any more of the man, but it hardly mattered anymore. It was evident, Alice’s foolish behavior had landed her in serious trouble.

  Oh, Lord! Why had she reacted with such haste to his appearance, and why had she gasped aloud? She had given herself away. That one small act was all it had taken, and even though her lips were pressed tightly together now, in an attempt to enforce her silence, Alice knew it was already too late. Law was only a few inches from where she was huddled, his attention no doubt fixed on what he had heard, and if there was anything about the man, he would be able to conclude there must be a concealed area to the room—a part where someone was hiding.

  Alice’s anxiety was a palpable living thing as the seconds passed by. All she could see now from the gap in the wood was the expanse of one trouser-clad leg. She was too scared to shift in either direction—too afraid to make another sound and confirm what Law so clearly already suspected.

  Please, let him give up and leave, she prayed silently as the time protracted. Please, Lord, just let him leave. I promise I won’t be so reckless again. I swear it.

  Yet the small noises coming from overhead suggested Law was far from giving up. Alice heard taps against the wooden partition that separated her from Law’s looming threat and imagined him raising his knuckles and knocking against the wall. The sounds moved from her left to her right, well above the place she crouched to the floor below and concluded directly above the point where Alice’s head was hidden—she realized she was in real peril.

  There was a difference in the noise of the taps. The ones that knocked directly against the standard wall had a deeper quality about them while those that echoed around the small space her father had designed sounded hollow. That would have given her away. It must have. As she held her breath, her heart racing and her muscles beginning to cramp, Alice knew her fate was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Four

  Edward

  Turning, Edward absorbed the dark wood of his quarters as the sweet liquor hit the spot, the warm burn of rum sliding intoxicatingly down his throat.

  It was then it happened—a noise.

  Just a small sound, barely audible, yet Edward had heard it, and it sent his heart racing, his senses heightening at the development. Striding in the direction of the noise, Edward paused, listening hard for a moment.

  What was it he had heard?

  It had sounded like an inhalation of air—a gasp. His mind whirred while that thought resonated. Yes, that was it. It had been a gasp, a gasp from a person, but there was no one else here. Was there?

  Surveying the wood panels, his free hand rose to run a finger along the polished surface by his face. Could there be someone else in the captain’s quarters? Edward had heard tales of enemies hiding onboard ships or desperate folk stowing away, but to do so on a vessel like the Dexterity was nothing short of audacious. And to do so in the captain’s quarters, no less—insanity. His pulse sped up as he contemplated the notion, and all the while, he heard nothing further, no other noises to suggest movement or life, nothing except the pounding of his own heart.

  Yet Edward had heard something.

  He knew he had.

  Lifting his hand, he tapped gently against the sleek wood, tuning into the sound that echoed around him. Edward shifted his arm left, tapping again before knocking gently at the right side. The noises were all similar—there was nothing to query about them. Slowly, he drew his hand down toward the center of the space and once again, tapped the panels of wood. A shot of excitement rushed through Edward—this sound was different, and there was only one word that described it to Edward’s ears.

  The last tap had been hollow, suggesting there was something behind that space. Something different from the other spots he had tapped—a hollow, open area, a place someone could indeed be concealed.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Edward wandered back to his desk and placed the empty tumbler down against the teak. The whole time, his heart hammered as both exhilaration and anxiety rose in his chest. So, he had a stowaway on board, a fool with enough temerity to take refuge in his quarters. Reaching around the other side of the desk, Edward slid the top drawer open to reveal his pistol. He grabbed the weapon, sliding his fingers over the well-used trigger. Edward did not know who was hiding behind those wooden panels, but it was time to find out…

  He took a small step in the direction of the wall, ensuring he kept a safe distance. Anyone could be back there—an old foe, someone he’d stolen from in the past, or someone he’d injured. That could be dangerous. Edward’s reputation had a tendency to precede him these days, a fact which usually made him smile, but now, facing the unknown threat, he did not feel so certain. Naturally, there was also the possibility whoever was hiding behind there could be an even greater menace—they could represent the Crown or the East India Trading Company—and that would almost certainly mean the gallows for Edward Law. With an experienced hand, he drew back the trigger and took aim.
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  “I know you’re in there.” His voice did not portray any of the emotions that ricocheted around his body, but then, that was Law. He had seen enough action in the past to be able to hold his nerve.

  “Do yourself a favor and come out now.”

  Silence filled the room, louder than any other noise, apart from the deafening sound of Edward’s heart.

  “I know you can hear me,” he continued, inching ever closer to the place where he’d heard the gasp. “Out you come.”

  A small scratching clatter met his ears, the sound of movement, and instinctively, he inhaled. Whoever was behind there was shifting, and that meant one thing—this impromptu meeting was about to come to a climax.

  “I’m guessing you can see me as well,” he went on, unable to resist the smile which sprung to his lips. Edward was enjoying this now, relishing the spike of energy that whipped around his body, and while he knew he might be in danger, that dark side of him was starting to take over. It did not care about the peril. It relished the risk and fed on the sense of jeopardy.

  “So, you’ll know there’s a pistol directed at your head, a weapon I’m more than happy to discharge if you do not appear.” He paused, eyeing the wooden panels intently. “Boarding this vessel without the captain’s permission is an act of hostility, friend, so unless you want a bullet lodged in your skull, I suggest you take my advice and move.”

  A tiny whimper rose from behind the wood, a sound so small, Edward might have missed it had his senses not been so finely attuned in that direction—a mewl of fear, but more significantly, the mewl of either a woman or child.

  There was no way that noise had derived from a man.

  He inched forward again, though he kept the weapon pointed in the direction of the whimper. “If you come out now, perhaps I will be merciful. Edward Law can be merciful, whatever you’ve heard, but I am not a patient man…”