Markwick cautioned himself against the measured sense of pride overriding his senses as the boatswain Owens appeared.
“Your orders have been followed to the letter, sir,” the man said.
“Very good, Owens.” He dreaded telling Chloe that he meant to send her ashore. He knew she would not like it one bit. “Prepare to shove off.”
“Shove off?” Chloe asked, bewildered, her mouth agape. “Is that the correct term for sailing into battle?”
A heavy, suffocating weight engulfed his chest. “No.”
She turned to Owens. “Teach me. I cannot wait to—”
Markwick twirled her around to face him and kissed her into silence. Good God, she was incorrigible, delectable, undefeatable! No wonder Walsingham kept a tight rein on her. Her adeptness, the fluidity of her character thrilled him, making him want—no, need—to feel her lips on his one last time before destroying her spirit and burning it to embers.
“Chloe—” He broke off, sighing against her cheek. “This is no place for a woman. I must send you and Jane away.”
She pushed back against him, distancing herself to arm’s length. “I know why you are doing this. You think I am weak. But I’m not. Let me stay. I can help you.”
She’d dressed like a man, prepared to take on a pirate’s yoke, a masterfully cunning and daring choice that had filled him with dread. Nothing, no amount of bravado or skill, could prevent her from getting killed by debris if Carnage or Walsingham fired on the Fury. And if they were overcome and boarded, what then?
He couldn’t bear to picture it. “I cannot risk you. Not when we’ve just found each other.”
“I’ve always been here. And I always will be.”
Bitter laughter erupted from his chest. If only that were true.
“What is so funny?”
He stroked her hair. “I adore your spirit, my love. And I will not see it broken.”
“But . . . I love you.” She reached for his mask, but he intercepted her hand. “I refuse to be parted from you now or ever.”
It was a bold move, appealing to his heart and manhood. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t work. A battle at sea was no place for a woman. And he couldn’t subject Chloe to another round of bloodshed, not when her declarations of love and her searching violet eyes promised life. Not when he hungered for everything about her—her touch, her kiss, a blissful future in her arms. Not when he found himself falling in love with her.
Upon his soul, he wasn’t merely falling in love with her. He loved her. He knew now that he’d always desired to love her, which made it more imperative that he got her off his ship and to solid ground as quickly as possible.
“You must go.” Knots coiled inside him as he broke off their embrace. “Now,” he added, urgency surging inside him.
“Go?” He stiffened at her shrill tone. “I cannot. I will not go. I want to help!”
He took her by the arm. “This is the only way to keep you safe.”
Her gaze followed his down the side of the hull to the boat hooked at the fore-chains below. “You cannot truly mean to send me away.”
“You cannot be on board this ship when I sail into that.” He pointed at the two sets of sails in the distance, growing ever closer. “I offer no guarantees, but I will do everything within my power to return to you.”
Her lips pursed. “But I want to help. I must help you save my brother.”
“You can help us by sailing to safety.” He took Chloe into his arms, threading his hands through her radiant, unbound hair. “I will not gamble with your life, Chloe. Your brother would never forgive me if I did. And I would never forgive myself.”
“I am safer with you. Give me a task, anything . . .”
“You promised me you would do anything to help your brother,” he reminded her.
“Yes, I did but—”
“Anything.” He took her into his arms, gripping her tightly against his chest.
Behind Chloe, Jane backed away. “Not again. Please no!”
Quinn slowly took Jane by the hand so as not to scare her. “’Twill be just like before, lass, only easier in the daylight. Keep your eyes on me. I won’t let you come to harm.”
Chloe lifted her cheek away from his chest. “Where are you sending us?”
Markwick refused to let her go, needing a moment longer to absorb the strength she gave him. He held her close, memorizing her scent and the feeling of completeness of having her at his side.
“The Marauder’s Roost. You’ll be safe there.”
She craned her neck to stare at him, shaken, amazed. “I won’t go,” she cried, clutching him tightly. “You left me once. I won’t let you do it again!”
He and Quinn exchanged a look. Quinn frowned and then nodded at two men who were stationed nearby as he directed Jane over the rail.
Markwick’s mind was made up, though. “There’s no other way.”
She jerked free, her attention darting from the Windraker to the rail, then back at him, daggers shooting from her eyes. “I can’t leave! No, I won’t go!”
“Aye, ye will,” Jenkins said, distracting her.
Chloe lifted her chin, flicking him a haughty frown, refusing to budge as another one of his boatswains grabbed her from behind. “What are you doing?” she shouted, kicking violently.
Jenkins quickly secured her hands, tying them in front of her.
“How dare you!” she lashed out at Jenkins, who wrapped a rope around her legs. “This is wrong! Please! Tell them to let me go!”
Impaled by her anger, Markwick moved behind the boatswains who were carrying her to the side of the ship. “There are times a man must make a difficult choice. This is one of them.”
“You’ll regret this, I—”
“Already do.” He far preferred to taste her sweet ambrosia than be fed curses. “Remember,” he reminded his men, “she’s a lady. Treat her like one.”
“Aye, sir.”
The two men worked as a team. One carried Chloe over his shoulders, carefully maneuvering the battens to climb down to the cutter below, while the other stepped lively below them to prevent a slip of foot or a fall.
Markwick gripped the gunwale, tensing like a bowstring. Regret lanced through him. He inhaled sharply, failing to catch a ragged breath.
He measured his next words. “I. Will. Come. For. You.”
Chloe lifted her head, her mesmerizing, incredulous gaze locking onto his, her eyes glistening like the white caps swirling below her. Her stare bled him dry, but it also willed him to be strong, to fight like a demon possessed to bring both himself and her brother home alive.
His boatswains stepped into the boat, perching her next to Jane. “I will come for you,” he repeated softly. “You have my word as a gentleman.”
He knew he shouldn’t have made the vow the moment it left his lips. How could he guarantee a miracle when he wasn’t even sure he could pull one off?
Chapter 9
Where is The BLACK REGENT? Where are our EXCISEMEN while Captain CARNAGE of the VIPER bathes the sea in BLOOD?
~ Sherborne Mercury, 6 August 1809
Chloe trembled with rage as she sat next to Jane in the cutter’s bow. How dare Markwick forcibly remove her from his ship! She wanted to pummel him with her fists, to make him understand that she could help, but nothing could reverse her current misfortune.
Unless . . .
She tugged angrily on the ropes adjoining her wrists, peering into the distance at Pierce’s ship. The Windraker cut through the swells, the sea pluming about its bow in a spectacular V-shaped spray. Its white sails glistened like armor in the sunlight, flags billowing majestically.
A quaking shiver gripped her. Her entire body rebelled as she envisioned her brother’s ship blown to pieces. Bodies of the dead and dying floating among the debris . . . Pierce’s sightless eyes . . .
Her heart hammered against her ribs. What if her resistance had cost Markwick valuable time?
Nausea welled within her. A lump ro
se to her throat, preventing her from swallowing back the bile that was threatening to escape. She fought for breath, gasping as she trained her gaze on the Fury’s impressive, monstrous hull, examining the battens and then scaling its mammoth height until she located Markwick at the rail, exactly where she’d last seen him. Everything about him—his bearing, his wickedly daring and dashing appearance—made her heart hitch as she watched him strap on the Black Regent’s mask.
He tricked me . . . I should hate him for it, but I cannot. He has my brother’s best interests at heart.
She frowned, adjusting her bottom on the thwart. How could she hate a man who’d sworn to sail to her brother’s aid, even at the risk of his own life? A man who’d put her safety before his own?
“I adore your spirit, my love,” he’d said. “I will not see it broken.”
His love. I am his love!
She raised her face to Markwick again. Tears escaped her eyes and she allowed them to roll down her cheeks freely. He’d finally opened his heart to her and now it could be too late for them. She began to shake and swallowed back a sob.
The cutter listed to and fro as the last man joined their landing party and boarded the boat.
“Will they be all right, m’lady?” Jane asked, clutching Otranto to her breast with one hand and the rim of the boat with the other.
“Who?” Markwick and his crew, her brother and his men, or all of them? She suspected the former because she’d noticed the particular attention Quinn had given Jane.
Jane blushed. “Markwick and ’is men, of course.”
“Pray, Jane. That is all we can do now. Pray.”
She lowered her bound hands, staring at them dejectedly. She wanted to rip off the ropes and clobber Jenkins on her way to scale the hull. But she couldn’t. How was she going to get out of this fix?
With little to no ceremony, two of Markwick’s men braced their oars against the hull, then they pushed off and guided the small vessel away into the swells.
“Out oars! Get your oars to pass!” Owens, Captain Teague’s surviving boatswain, was dressed in tan breeches, calico shirt, navy coat, and a sailor’s hat as he ordered the men stationed amidships.
“Stroke!” he called.
Oars clunked in succession, flat ends descending over the gunwale into the water’s pitchy, frothy surface.
“Give way together!”
The Fury closely hauled her sails. Markwick stood wraithlike, his black attire contrasting his calico-clad crew. His shoulder-length hair lifted and the tails of his black mask fluttered in the wind. Alive with activity, the Fury’s sheets inhaled and the vessel took a starboard tack toward the two approaching ships, intent on safeguarding the Windraker from destruction.
Would Markwick, acting as the Black Regent, Pierce’s greatest foe, reach her brother in time? Would Pierce even accept Markwick’s help if given the chance, or would he—as she feared—suspect an imminent attack on both sides?
If Pierce thought, even for one moment, that the Black Regent meant to help Captain Carnage destroy the Windraker . . .
A crippling shudder snaked down Chloe’s spine, and a pain unlike any other she’d ever known lanced her chest. She huddled next to Jane, suddenly overcome by a chill that threatened to delay the beating of her heart.
Tight-lipped, Jane leaned close, stiff-arming the gunwale as the cutter dipped and plunged in and out of the swells. “The Regent will save your brother, m’lady.” She pursed her lips, then added thoughtfully, “You’ll see.”
“Aye. She’ll outlast this fight,” Jenkins assured her.
Chloe narrowed her gaze on Jenkins. If the man thought she’d ever forget how he’d helped to ruin her plans, he was sadly mistaken. Besides, she wasn’t a tavern wench or a hog to be tied and carried to market.
Five crew members had been assigned to escort Chloe and Jane to land: Owens, Fiske, Jenkins, and two Irishmen named Kelly and Madden. The men, a collection of able-bodied crewmen from the Fury and Mohegan combined, toiled before her, necks straining and muscles flexing with each rhythmic rowing motion in response to Owens’s orders.
Positioned as they were, facing away from shore, Chloe and Jane had no choice but to sit helplessly and observe the Fury as it moved out to sea.
“They’ll make quick work of Carnage. Mark my words,” Owens said, manning the tiller astern.
“How can you be certain? How many times has the Mohegan encountered a vengeful pirate?”
Owens adjusted his hat on his head to keep it from blowing off. “There is one thing I do know: never underestimate a man with a promise to keep, my lady.”
She suppressed an ominous shudder. Markwick had already proven how resourceful he could be. She believed he’d come back for her. But what if Carnage took that choice away from him?
Madden looked over his shoulder, peering at Chloe curiously. “What would Theodore do?” He turned back to his duties, spitting a plume of tobacco over the gunwale.
Humph! She tightened her lips, unable to forgive the man for trussing her up like a pig. Did he honestly believe that she’d fall for his trick to get her mind off of Markwick and on to her beloved books?
She smiled hesitantly. If Madden or any of the other men thought they could get in her good graces by talking about Otranto, they’d underestimated her. “Why, Theodore—on his quest to reclaim Alfonso’s throne—would rescue his friend.”
Just as Jane would rescue her. That was it!
Chloe positioned herself behind Jenkins, where Owens couldn’t see her arms, and silently motioned to Jane. She pointed to the pistol stuffed in the sash tied around Jenkins’s waist, and then motioned to Madden’s back where his gun was stored. She raised her hands and nodded to Jane, silently mouthing the words, “Untie me.” Once free, they would be able to grab the guns before the men could stop them and force the boat to return to the Fury.
A brilliant plan!
Except Jane shook her head almost imperceptibly, refusing to comply. If Jane didn’t help her, who would?
We have no choice, she silently willed to Jane.
“Go on, m’lady,” Madden said impatiently, prompting Chloe to realize the men waited for her to continue.
“Then . . .” Chloe pinched her lips together and gestured to her hands, imploring Jane with her eyes. “Theodore’s loyalty . . .”
Jane rolled her eyes, then let go of the gunwale, inching closer.
“. . . cannot be compared.” Chloe grinned, sighing with relief.
Cautiously, so as not to be noticed, Jane worked the knot loose around Chloe’s wrists.
“He’d return,” she continued, “to win the hand of his ladylove.” She left out the part about Matilda’s death.
Kelly, who was rowing beside Fiske, flashed Chloe a jovial wink over his shoulder, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “That be more like it. Keep talkin’. T’ain’t no reason to worry about the Regent.”
“What do you know about the Regent?” Jenkins snapped.
“Only what I read in the Post,” Kelly said.
“You can read?” Jenkins barked.
Kelly’s throaty laughter mingled with the caw of a seagull making a sweeping run behind the cutter. “Can’t you?”
Chloe slipped the ropes off her wrists and lifted her feet carefully to help Jane work on the knot there. “Reading is very easy once you’ve learned the letters and sounds.”
“And quite freeing,” Jane supplied as the ropes dropped off Chloe’s ankles.
Chloe rubbed her wrists and nodded to Jane. They were going to take back their freedom and turn this boat around.
The men appeared oblivious to her plan as she timed her movements while they rowed forward and back, forward and back.
Chloe squeezed Jane’s hand as the boat cut swiftly through the swells, and apprehension filled her breast. Pierce had taught her how to take care of herself, but now it was up to her to apply what she’d learned. Her heartbeat nearly raced out of control as she reached for Jenkins’s back.
“I’d be happy to teach you to read if you . . .” She reached forward and then eased back, coiling her fingers around the butt of Jenkins’s pistol. Quickly enough that he couldn’t let go of the oar and defend himself, she pulled the blunderbuss out of his trousers and scooted back until the thwart became a barrier between them. She stood, bracing her legs to stabilize her footing on the moving vessel. “Take me back to your ship!”
Jenkins’s oar grated against the hull, plunking through its oarlock as he groped for his stolen weapon.
“Your oar, Jenkins!” Owens shouted.
The tar complied, reaching out to stabilize his oar, angling it inward, then whipped around to strip his gun from her.
Unbeknownst to him, Jane had already retrieved Madden’s weapon. She aimed it at the overbearing man. “Stay back!”
Chloe allowed a smile but worried about the way Jane’s hands shook. “I don’t want to kill anyone, especially men that are vital to the Regent’s success, but I am desperate.” She shook the barrel of her pistol at Owens. “Turn the boat around!”
The crew stared back at her, mouths agape. Laughter burst forth from their surprised faces, filling her with righteous indignation.
“What is so funny?” she asked.
Madden shifted positions, turning himself closer to Jane.
“Don’t move,” Jane warned him.
His brows furrowed. “You seem to have forgotten one important thing, m’lady.” He assessed Chloe, then Jane. “Lass.”
“What, pray tell, would that be?” Chloe prepared herself, imagining the man would say something about the inferiority of her sex. After all, they were pirates, uneducated, presumptuous men who thought only of themselves.
“There are five of us and only two of you.”
When a Rogue Falls Page 40
