“Perhaps so, but ’tis still a tavern and no place for a lady,” Faith snapped, angrier with herself than with Hope. She must keep a closer watch upon her sister. “I suppose Anne Cormac was there as well?”
“Anne is a dear friend of mine. We share the same passions.”
“What passions might those be? Defying your fathers? Associating with gamblers and rogues through all hours of the night like common trollops?”
Hope swallowed hard.
“And what do we know of Lord Falkland?” Faith tried to lower her rising voice. “Nothing, save his reputation as a philanderer and a swindler.”
Hope sprang to her feet, her eyes welling with tears. “He is neither of those things. You do not know him. He is a gentleman. Full of passion and life.” She swiped at a tear trickling down her cheek. “He tells me I am special.”
Faith regarded her sister. Of course he does, dear one. ’Tis what swindlers do. Her heart wilted. Sweet Hope. Always the dreamer, always the romantic. Was it her past that forced her into such dangerous liaisons? Fear bristled over Faith. She might be able to protect her sister from these scoundrels, but how was she to protect Hope from herself?
Molly cleared her throat. “Would you like some tea, Miss Faith? Since you up and all.”
“No thank you, Molly.” Faith sighed. “I’m sorry you have missed your sleep. You should have awakened me when you discovered Miss Hope gone.”
“I couldn’a slept anyways.” Molly shrugged. “No sense in worryin’ the both of us. I was about to alert Mr. Waite—it being his job and all—when Miss Hope come home.”
The side door creaked open, and Lucas’s tall frame filled the tiny entrance. His questioning dark eyes met Faith’s then drifted to Molly and down to her bare ankles. He shifted his gaze. “Morning, Miss Molly, Miss Hope.”
Flustered, Molly yanked her skirts from her waistband and allowed them to drop over her legs. Faith had never seen a Negro blush, but she was sure she detected a red hue upon Molly’s otherwise flawless cinnamon-colored skin.
“Why, we might as well throw a party seein’ as so many of us can’t sleep tonight.” Molly turned and began stacking a set of wooden bowls on the baking table.
“You’re lookin’ fine this mornin’, Miss Molly.” Lucas gazed at Molly’s back as he twisted his hat in his massive hands.
Molly veered around and gave Lucas a snort. “Why, I’ll thank you not to be lookin’, Mr. Corwin.” Her voice was caustic, but a hint of a smile danced on her mouth.
The grin slipped from Lucas’s face as he ran a hand through the coils of his shoulder-length black hair.
Hope raised a brow. “You and Lucas are venturing out again?” Her words sent a jolt of surprise through Faith. “Yes, I have eyes,” she continued. “I have seen you two run off in the middle of the night many a time. What I fail to understand is why ’tis so appalling when I do the same.”
Faith balled her hands into fists. “First of all, Lucas is my escort. Secondly. . .’tis none of your concern. I am the eldest, and you will listen to me.”
Pain etched across Hope’s gaze, igniting into anger. “If I must do as you say, dear sister, then I must also do as you do. Therefore, I shall go out at night whenever I please.”
Faith ground her teeth together. How could she make her sister understand that what she did, she did for Hope? “There is a big difference between what I am doing and what you are doing.” Faith averted her eyes as guilt showered over her. With their mother gone, her sisters looked to her to model how a proper, moral lady behaved. She had not realized until now just how closely they watched her.
And how deeply she was failing them.
“I am securing your future,” she said simply.
“By running off in the thick of night to make soap, no doubt?” Hope smirked. “You must think me as dull witted as Father does.”
“On the contrary, I find you to be quite smart. Perhaps a bit foolish at times.” Faith exchanged a knowing glance with Lucas. “All I ask is that you trust me.”
“And we best be gettin’ to it, mistress.” Lucas nodded, his eyes alight with urgency. “Time’s a wastin’.”
Wringing her hands, Faith glanced out the window, where the square shape of the stables across the yard emerged from the darkness. She had spent far too much time arguing with her sister.
Hope shot her tear-filled gaze to Molly. “Why do you not scold my sister as you do me, Molly?” Wrapping her arms about herself, she hung her head. “Why is everyone in this family against me?”
“Not my place to scold either of you. . .not my place.” Molly tossed a rag onto the table and patted the knot of ebony hair at the nape of her neck. “I’m just worryin’ for your safety, is all. But there’s not much I can do if the both of you keep runnin’ off at night.” She shook her head.
“I haven’t the time to discuss this now.” Faith approached the door and turned to face Hope. “We shall talk more when I return.”
“Forgive me, sister, if I do not believe you, for you rarely have time to visit with me anymore.” The lines on Hope’s face deepened, her eyes pleading pools that tugged upon Faith’s heart.
“I must go.” Faith forced out the words she knew would hurt her sister, but she had no choice. If she delayed even another minute, they would be too late.
Hope’s eyes sharpened. “Perhaps I should discuss this with Mr. Waite? I am sure he has time to converse with me.”
Lucas cleared his throat and gestured toward the door.
Faith tightened her lips to keep the anger she felt from firing out from them. “I wish you would not do that.” But the pain on her sister’s face melted her anger away. She held out a hand toward Hope. “Someday you shall see that all I want is what is best for you.”
“You do not know what is best for me.” Hope sniffed then took a step toward the door. “If you will excuse me, I am rather tired.”
Faith laid a gentle hand on Hope’s arm as she passed. “Promise me you will stay home until I return.”
Hope nodded, her blue eyes rising to meet Faith’s. Despite the tears, they held a sweet innocence tainted by a deep sorrow.
Faith placed a kiss upon Hope’s cheek. “Sleep well.”
Lucas held open the door as Hope edged by him and disappeared toward the house.
After she left, Molly pointed an accusing finger toward Faith. “You spoil that child.”
“She has suffered more than either you or I could imagine.” Faith swallowed the burning agony that had risen in her throat and turned to leave.
“She looks up to you, Miss Faith.” Molly’s sharp tone yanked Faith around again. “If you want to do right by her, be a good example.”
“I am doing right by her. You will see, Molly.” Faith glanced over her shoulder at Lucas, who was still holding the door ajar. They were late. “We must be—”
“I don’t want to know where you two are off to.” Molly shook her head. “Your family treats me well, pays me fair when most of my people ain’t nothin’ but slaves in this province. I thank you for that. And for the first time in my life, I feels like I’m a part of a family. So it’s not my place to be tattling on you or Miss Hope. I don’t want to risk being let go by the admiral. So alls I can do is pray for the good Lord to watch over you.”
“I’ll take proper care of her, Miss Molly. Don’t ye be worryin’ none,” Lucas said.
“Don’t be worryin’, you say?” Molly smirked and planted her hands on her waist. “Why, you’s just as bad an influence on Miss Faith as she is on Miss Hope. And a grown man, too. Shame on you.”
“Let’s away, Lucas.” Faith nudged him, but his gaze was fixed on Molly, a devilish grin alighting his face.
“Now what’s got you grinnin’ like the cat that ate the mouse?” Molly asked.
“Only that ye noticed I’m a grown man.”
“Any fool can see that.” Molly flung a hand in the air with a huff. “Now be gone with you.”
Lucas slapped his oversize
hat on his head, tipped it at Molly, and disappeared out the door.
“If Edwin or the captain inquires as to our whereabouts when they arise,” Faith said, “please tell them we have gone into town for supplies.”
“Now you know I can’t be lyin’ for you. What would the good Lord think of that?” Molly grabbed a rag and tossed it over her shoulder with a disapproving glance.
Faith sighed. “Very well, then. Tell them whatever you wish.” She turned and followed Lucas into the darkness.
Before Faith made it back into the house, a sweet hymn swirled over her from the kitchen. Each word of praise to a God Faith no longer spoke to jabbed at her heart.
Out the front door, Lucas disappeared into the shadows and soon returned leading two horses.
Faith whistled, and Morgan flew to her outstretched hand. She set the bird on the horse’s back, then clutching her skirts, she mounted her steed, Seaspray, with ease and placed the parrot on the saddle horn. He screeched and flapped his wings, causing the horse to jerk. Grabbing the reins, she steadied the anxious beast until Lucas settled upon his.
The excitement of the coming adventure began to cloud out the disturbing altercation with her sister—for now. But Faith knew she had to address Hope’s wayward ways soon, before the girl got herself into trouble.
“Let’s be about that treasure, shall we?” She winked at Lucas and kicked her horse, and the two of them sped out the gate and down the lane.
They had not a moment to lose. Faith could not afford to trade broadsides with a British warship, especially one commanded by a highly decorated officer. Such a confrontation not only would result in her ship being sunk to the bottom of the sea but would no doubt leave both her and her crew dead.
Chapter 10
Planting her boots on the beakhead of the Red Siren, Faith crossed her arms over her chest and braced herself against the oncoming white-tipped swell. The turbulent seas reflected the raging of her heart as the ship bolted then careened over a huge wave. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memories of the morning. She must concentrate on the task at hand.
After a twenty-minute gallop, she and Lucas had arrived at the bayou, where the Red Siren hid in an estuary, anchored safely amid fern and foliage. Her crew had already prepared the vessel with anticipation and welcomed her with greed-infested grins. In less than an hour, Faith had changed into breeches and waistcoat, navigated the ship through the narrow channel, and sent it spewing from the tiny inlet like venom from a snake upon the mighty sea.
A sinister grin played upon her lips. Mr. Waite expected to rendezvous with the treasure ship off Hilton Head in the afternoon, but Faith would meet up with the vessel long before then. By her calculations, the merchant ship would pass Tybee Island—nigh fifteen miles south of St. Helena—near midday, and the Red Siren would be there to give her a proper pirate greeting.
A gray haze broke the grip of darkness on the horizon and drove the black shroud back into the sky. Soon splashes of coral, saffron, and crimson dazzled the morning like jewels strewed above the indigo sea.
Closing her eyes, Faith relished the whip of the wind in her hair and the sting of the sea in her nostrils, but thoughts of her sisters intruded upon her peace. Terror drew her muscles taut. After all of Faith’s hard work, after all the risks she had taken to protect her sisters from marriages to unsavory men, Hope threw herself at the most unsavory of them all. Word about town was that Lord Falkland acquired and consumed women as frivolously as he did his wealth and in equally as shady a manner. And Lady Cormac—an ill-tempered woman of extreme impertinence—was rumored to be no lady at all but the illegitimate daughter of a local lawyer. What could Hope possibly find so alluring in such disagreeable company?
An arc of bright gold peeked over the horizon, sending a blanket of warmth and light over Faith, lifting her spirits. Depending on her success today, she might finally acquire enough fortune to meet, nay, exceed her father’s condition for her and her sisters’ independence. Not to mention free her from marrying Sir Wilhelm. How she would answer the admiral when he inquired as to the source of her sudden wealth, she had no idea, but her father never reneged on a promise. At last Faith would be able to stay home and keep a better watch on Hope—and on Grace as well, for truth be told, Faith’s youngest sister put herself in no less danger than Hope when she ventured to the shady outskirts of town on her missions to feed the poor and the Indians. Only by the grace of God—no, purely by luck alone—she had not been kidnapped or murdered. Why, oh, why couldn’t her sisters stay home and behave like proper young ladies?
The sails above Faith snapped as a gust struck them. She tugged her black velvet waistcoat tighter about her neck against the chill breeze.
Lucas appeared beside her. “All sails be unfurled, and we’ve caught a weather breeze, mistress. I reckon we’ll be at Tybee afore noon.”
“Thank you, Lucas.”
The ship bucked again, sending a spray of bubbling foam over the bow. Salt stung Faith’s eyes, and she examined her first mate.
She wouldn’t be a pirate captain if not for him. When she’d rescued him from the streets of Portsmouth, starving and beaten, and convinced her father to hire him as their groomsman, she had no idea he had sailed on a pirate ship for four years under the dread pirate captain Samuel Burgess. When Captain Burgess was brought to Britain and convicted of piracy, Lucas and several of the crew managed to escape, but they faced a fate nearly as horrifying as the noose as they fought for scraps of food on the streets of London.
Lucas taught Faith everything she knew about sailing, navigation, firing a pistol, firing a cannon, even wielding a sword. Together they had stolen their first boat, a small fishing vessel anchored in the harbor at Portsmouth. With that, they began their pirating career and, with each successive conquest, acquired faster ships, until Faith had finally settled on this sleek brigantine—compliments of Mr. Waite.
When Lucas had refused to assume command of the crew, Faith slid into the role of captain with the ease of one putting on a glove. She seemed to have a natural ability to command, make quick decisions, and inspire the men.
Lucas squinted toward the sunrise, a dreamy grin softening his features. But Faith surmised piracy was not on his mind at the moment.
“Am I mistaken, Lucas, or do you fancy Miss Molly?”
The sun gleamed off his perfect white teeth. “Ye noticed?” He shook his head. “She be. . .she be. . .a rare blossom of a woman, to be sure.” He shrugged. “But she shuns me, as ye saw.”
“Nay, I am not so sure.” Faith offered him a coy smile.
“Don’t be teasin’ me, mistress.”
“Despite present appearances, I am a woman. And I sense that Miss Molly is not as repulsed by you as she pretends. Trust me.”
Lucas scratched his head, his fingers tangling in the black hair that hung in thick wires to his shoulders. “Odds fish that I do find some comfort in that.”
“Is she aware of your heritage?”
“That I be a half-breed? Nay.”
“She may not know you have some Negro in you. The color of your skin could pass for a summer day’s tan.”
“D’ye think it would make a difference?”
“Perhaps. You should tell her about your past.”
He scowled. “How my parents were murdered, how I’s once a slave, how I run away and became a pirate?”
Faith snickered. “Well, perhaps you should omit that last part.”
“Aye, to be sure. She be a godly woman, which is why she don’t want to be hearin’ about me past neither.”
“It might soften her opinion of you.” Faith blinked when she realized that she of all people was playing the matchmaker. Yet an undeniable spark crackled across the room when Lucas and Molly were together.
“What would a proper Christian woman like her want with a half-breed, half-witted, thievin’ barracuda like me?” Lucas rubbed the back of his thick neck.
“Aye, but there is so much more to you than tha
t, and you know it.” Faith flashed him a knowing glance. “Besides, I have never seen you run from anything, Lucas. ’Tis why I’m glad you’re my first mate. Fearless, adventurous. You risk your life every day on this ship, but you fear a woman who stands barely five feet tall?”
“Aye, that be about the way of it.” He crossed his beefy arms over his chest, and they both laughed out loud.
“Sail ho!” Mac’s deep voice bellowed from the crosstrees.
Yanking her spyglass from her belt, Faith raised it and scanned the horizon. Off their starboard beam, the coastline of the New World sped by in sun-kissed shimmers of emerald and honey. Up ahead, nothing but dark blue streaked with foam-crested waves extended to the horizon. “Where lies she?”
“Four points off our larboard bow!”
Shifting the glass to the left, Faith squinted and spotted the tips of two pyramids, dark against the rising sun. But as the ship grew larger, from her size and colors, she appeared to be naught but a French fishing vessel—too small to carry any fortune of note.
“Let her pass, men. She is not the one we want.” She turned to Lucas. “Keep our British colors aloft and alert me when another ship approaches.”
“Aye, aye, mistress.”
Faith marched to the foredeck ladder then swerved about. “Have Kane check all the pistols and muskets and ensure they are working properly. And tell Bates to ready the guns.”
Lucas nodded with a smile.
Three hours later, after catching parcels of sleep in between several ship sightings, Faith emerged from the companionway in a bouffant red-satin skirt, a gold-lace stomacher trimmed with pearls, and a cream-colored bodice that blossomed into double-ruffled sleeves. In one hand she carried a folding fan, in the other a flintlock pistol. A red silk scarf adorned her neck. They had arrived at Tybee Island, and she must dress appropriately for such important guests.
All gazes shot to her, and Morgan squawked a whistle.
With a roll of her eyes, Faith braced one hand on her hip and cleared her throat to allow her most imperious tone. It always seemed harder to command the ship arrayed like a child’s doll.
The Red Siren Page 9
