The Pirate Bride

by Shannon Drake

  “And he’s looking for someone,” she said softly, indicating Blair with a quick nod.

  He was on deck, his spyglass in hand, staring at the island. He had not gotten into the first tender.

  He was probably waiting to make sure the first boatload of crewmen was not murdered by some native tribe—or whoever had been marooned there.

  Even to go ashore, he was dressed impeccably. His white shirt was pristine, his vest richly embroidered, and his hat sported an impressive feather. He might have been dressed for dinner at the governor’s mansion.

  “He’s looking for Red Robert. And Logan,” her father said with a sigh.

  “Father,” she said quickly, “Logan would have died before causing you anguish.”

  “I know that, daughter,” he said, and squeezed her hand. “I have never blamed a decent man for the evil in others. I blame myself for stupidity. I have attended social functions with the monster now labeling me traitor.”

  “Stay calm, Father, I beg of you. Where there is life, there is hope,” she whispered.

  He attempted a smile. “Where there is life, there is hope,” he agreed.

  “Lord Bethany, Lady Cassandra, if you will?” Blair Colm said. “I am ever so sorry to trouble you, but my prisoners remain within my reach at all times.”

  “Down the rope ladder,” Nathan commanded.

  Maybe he thought he was smiling pleasantly, Cassandra thought. Perhaps the man was simply incapable of a smile that did not look like a leer.

  Her father went first, reaching up to help her once he reached the boat, but she needed no assistance. She was far more worried about her father than herself.

  Horatio Bethany was no coward and no weakling. He rode his own estates, and he was not adverse to helping out when necessary. Cassandra was so proud of him. He would help a servant staggering under a heavy load, he would read to the children, and he had seen to it that those in his household learned about books and writing.

  She hoped he would not do aught else to draw Blair Colm’s wrath.

  She took a seat as properly as she could. Her cotton gown was stained with blood and dirt, and wrinkled from her confinement. Her hair was falling down in snarled tendrils.

  Four of Blair’s men were in the boat with them, another six already on the island, and as they moved away from the ship, she saw he was following them in a third tender. She had tried to assess the total number of men under his command. Twenty-five, she thought, and that count might have been a bit high. But certainly no more than that.

  And were they all refuse, as he was himself? Killers who did not care who they killed, especially since it seemed their commander had the right to murder under the law?

  She smiled as she stared at her father, but her thoughts were running in far less pleasant directions. They must all be monsters. They had taken no prisoners other than her father and herself. Because they had some value? Or because he needed a legal excuse—her father’s supposedly traitorous activities—to justify taking and sinking the ship?

  “I wish you had a parasol,” her father said.

  What a ridiculous comment, she thought.

  But he was smiling at her, so she kept smiling in return. We must bend but not break, she thought. No matter what happens, we must remember who we are, and that we are decent, compassionate human beings.

  They reached the beach. One strong fellow leapt out and dragged the boat high up on the sand, so it would not slip back out to sea.

  He turned to give her a hand, but she was already ashore.

  To one side, Blair Colm’s boat was being run up on the beach, as well.

  From the direction of the shelter she had seen earlier, she heard a cry. “Captain! Captain Colm! You must see this!”

  Blair strode rapidly forward, while one of his men prodded Cassandra and her father to follow—at sword’s point.

  As they neared the crude shelter, Cassandra, who was in the lead, heard the buzzing of flies, and just as she realized what that meant, the odor of decay hit her.

  And then she saw the couple.

  Her stomach lurched as she fought to keep from being sick. She felt faint, and it was only the support of her father’s arm that kept her from keeling over.

  It wasn’t so much that the couple was dead. It wasn’t even the fact that they had apparently died in one another’s arms.

  It was the cruelty of what came after death.

  The birds had fed upon the faces.

  And the crabs had wrecked havoc on their flesh.

  The odor, the flies, the birds, the crabs…

  It was suddenly too much. She pitched forward onto her knees and started to scream, but it didn’t help. She could still hear the flies droning….

  And then she dropped unconscious to the ground.

  RED AND LOGAN had watched the pirates arrive from the safety of a tall sea grape, midway between the shelter and the spring, one that afforded the cover of thick branches and fat green leaves, but still allowed them to see most of what was happening on the beach.

  Red had seen his face when the boat carrying the young woman and the older man had come ashore. She had known she was seeing Cassandra and Lord Bethany even before he muttered the woman’s name beneath his breath.

  Time stood still.

  Logan’s original plan had entailed waiting until most of the crew was ashore, hopefully drunk on the barrel of rum he had left in an obvious spot by the shelter, then stealing one tender after destroying the others, and making their way out to the ship. Foolhardy? Maybe. But possible. A skeleton crew would have remained on board. A crew that might be taken stealthily by night.

  But when she studied his face now, she knew everything had changed.

  It had changed when Lord Bethany and Lady Cassandra had stepped ashore.

  She knew they had only been in these waters because they were attempting Logan’s rescue.

  And if she knew it, then he had to be thinking the same thing. The woman he loved—even if she was not his fiancée—was in this horrible predicament because of him.

  Red wasn’t close enough to see the details of Lady Cassandra’s features, and she knew that in such dire circumstances, she shouldn’t be wasting time reflecting on the young woman’s stature and beauty.

  But her heart sank nonetheless.

  He had not lied. Cassandra was beautiful. Her posture was regal, and despite the circumstances, her head was held high atop a neck that was long and slim.

  Then she watched as Cassandra stopped walking, stared in horror at what Red knew waited inside the shelter, fell to her knees and screamed.

  That scream tore through the air, and even Red, who knew its cause, winced at the sound.

  Lord Bethany was quick to catch his daughter as she fell. Down on his knees himself, he cradled her body, putting his own bulk between her and the sight of the dead couple, despite the fact that Cassandra seemed to be unconscious.

  A knife seemed to tear into Red’s heart.

  My father would have loved me like that, I know he would have, she thought, then stiffened. The world was what it was. Her father was long dead at the hands of the man who had now taken these two people prisoner. God only knew what Blair Colm had done to those with whom Lord Bethany and Lady Cassandra had sailed.

  No.

  She knew.

  She had seen the man in action.

  And she could see him now.

  Everything in her cried out that she needed to jump from the tree and race forward and plunge her knife through his heart. If she were quick enough, perhaps she wouldn’t be stopped, and once he was dead…

  She started, feeling Logan’s hand on her arm. His eyes carried both understanding and a warning.

  “No,” he whispered.

  She indicated Cassandra.

  “I know,” he returned softly. “And I will find a way.”

  “But…”

  “We watch,” he said, his whisper soft.

  And so Red turned her eyes back to the sce
ne at the shelter. Blair was watching Cassandra, laughing softly. “Ah, the lady shows such sweet delicacy,” he said.

  “There’s no sign of Red Robert’s ship,” a short, stocky man announced. “There was a wreck, whatever ship this man and his wife sailed. But there is no sign of any other.”

  “Is there salvage?” Blair asked.

  “Some.”

  “Take the food, and then we’ll see to water.”

  “What of those poor folk?” Lord Bethany demanded.

  “What of them?” Blair asked. “They are dead.”

  “They must be buried.”

  “Must they?”

  “I see a shovel. I will dig, if you’ve not the crew to manage such a simple task,” Lord Bethany said.

  Blair Colm shrugged. “My dear Lord Bethany, I’m afraid you might have a heart attack, attempting such labor. Billy, you and Victor dig. Nathan, take the others out to search through the salvage.”

  “I need water for my daughter,” Lord Bethany said.

  “You two,” Blair said, nodding toward several crewmen. “Look for fresh water.”

  Logan’s hand was still on Red’s arm. Now he gave her a slight nod, indicating that he considered them well concealed, so they could continue to watch what was taking place from their perch.

  Several of the pirates disappeared beneath the canopy of the trees as they started inland. They reappeared almost directly beneath Red and Logan as they headed toward the spring. One turned back a few moments later to report on the fresh water.

  Red looked at Logan, who shook his head. She didn’t know if he was opposed to killing the men because it would be murder in his eyes or only because he felt the time wasn’t right.

  Either way, he had judged correctly, for in minutes there were ten pirates at the spring, drinking and splashing, heedless of their clothing and even their boots.

  Red began to wish they had left their vantage point when more and more of the ugly fellows began stripping off their clothes to bathe, but she knew they were there for the duration, so she listened and waited, barely breathing. She had mocked Logan for not seeking vengeance with enough passion, but she knew now that she had been wrong to doubt the strength of his intentions. There was something in his eyes today, something she hadn’t seen before. And though it was obvious he was horrified that Lord Bethany and Cassandra were Colm’s captives, she knew in her heart that his feelings went deeper.

  He had learned patience, and he was calculating every possible strategy for taking down Blair Colm.

  But whatever his previous thoughts might have been, the game had changed.

  She knew he would die before harm came to Lord Bethany and Cassandra.

  “First time I’ve really seen your ugly mug of a face, Nathan,” one of the younger men said.

  “And first time anyone could be downwind of ye, Billy Bones,” the one called Nathan responded. Red looked at him more closely and realized that what he was washing off was blood. There was little doubt now as to what had happened to the crew of Lord Bethany’s ship.

  “It’s a fine island,” another man said.

  “Not fine enough,” Billy said. “The captain was hoping to find that Red Robert had gone down in the storm. Maybe even that the ship had broken up and his treasure had washed ashore. Instead, we have the finery of an old merchantman.”

  “We should stay on here a bit, explore the place,” Nathan said, looking around. “It’s a fine place for a hideout, eh?”

  “Except we’re not the only ones that know of her, eh?” Billy said.

  “Aye, so they say. Some other bastard would be digging up what we buried,” a man with one glass eye said.

  “But we won’t be stayin’ anywhere,” Billy said. “Cap’n knows Red Robert is after him, and he can’t stand it. He wants to know who the fellow is and why he’s after ’im. Become a bit of an obsession, it has. He wants Red Robert dead, so he does. Offered a fortune in New Providence to have the fellow killed.”

  “But the fools failed,” the glass-eyed man said.

  “We’ll be finding him eventually,” Nathan said with assurance. “And it will be a slow and painful end for Red Robert. Cap’n Colm says he’ll cut the bastard’s tongue out first, shoot him in the kneecaps and then the balls, and then watch him die.”

  Red felt ill. On the one hand, she longed to point out that there would be no shooting her in the balls.

  On the other, she was suddenly afraid.

  What if they found the Eagle and captured her?

  What if they thought Brendan was Red Robert?

  There was only one thing for it.

  Blair Colm had to die before he could leave this island.

  She didn’t look at Logan, because she didn’t want him reading her mind. She would let him think she was party to any plan he came up with, but if it didn’t include the death of the man who had massacred so many, she would resort to her own strategy.

  If nothing else, she would have the element of surprise in her favor. True, she would die on the spot if she killed him, with so many of his men about.

  Even so, it would be worth it.

  And such an attack could be carried out. She would have to bide her time. And wait.

  “Do you believe Cap’n Colm will really see to it that old Lord Bethany hangs?” Billy Bones mused.

  “Ye’ve seen the captain at work,” Nathan said, then chuckled with pure pleasure and anticipation. “And as to the daughter…”

  “She’s worth a good fortune—he’ll have that in mind,” Billy warned.

  “Perhaps. Then again, perhaps no one will know if she’s not so pure on her return,” Nathan said. “She’d be unlikely to say anything, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Red glanced at Logan and could see the pulse ticking at his throat. But he had the strength to remain dead still.

  “Ah, well, it’s a fine enough beach, offering fine enough beds,” Nathan said.

  “We’ll be staying here?” another man asked.

  “Oh, aye. Despite what Billy thinks, Cap’n said if Red didn’t go down, he’d be looking for a place to careen his ship,” Nathan said. “Might even give it a few nights to see if he shows.”

  Eventually Blair Colm’s crew tired of their conversation, dressed and left the area.

  Even then, Logan waited until he was certain no one was lurking beneath the trees before he slipped down, then reached up to help her follow.

  “Back to the caves,” he said. “We need to plan.”

  THE BODIES WERE GONE.

  Blessed mercy.

  Still, Cassandra didn’t think she would be able to bear seeing a crab ever again.

  She realized she was alone with her father in the small shelter and wished she could be somewhere—anywhere—else.

  This was where the corpses of the couple had been. She kept envisioning the flies and the crabs. But if she intended to survive, and for her father’s sake, she had to accept the comfort of the shade. She and her father had apparently been left to their own devices.

  Why not? Where was there for them to go?

  After reassuring her father that she was fine, she looked outside and saw that Blair Colm and several of his men were busying themselves with the barrels and trunks that lay strewn about the beach, having already laid claim to the booty that had been dragged up near the shelter. They had found porcelain, silver, pots and pans, ceramic pieces, dresses, breeches, fine shirts and jackets, lace undergarments, and even a few jewels, not to mention a carpenter’s toolbox and a surgeon’s kit. Not a bounty in gold, but the finery of a once substantial couple was not to be sneered at.

  The men were clearly more interested, however, in the booty provided by some of the barrels.

  Rum. Definitely rum.

  But there was also salted meat, biscuit, sugar, salt and pepper, though it was clearly the rum that interested them most.

  Though Cassandra’s temptation was to scorn anything offered her by these men, she knew that she and her father needed to ea
t, so she accepted the horrible, tasteless rations one of them gave her when he saw her watching, and, later, the much more appealing coconut meat one of them brought.

  As she watched the men throughout the day, she noticed that Blair Colm had a democratic manner with his men. Military men sailed under strict rules of discipline for set pay, but Colm’s pirates—for however legal their charter, their behavior marked them as the worst pirates she’d ever heard of—had a certain degree of autonomy and clearly shared fully in whatever spoils they found.

  How else did a man get others to commit murder and other atrocities, she wondered, if not for a rich reward?

  The day seemed endless.

  Yet did she want it to end? As long as they were all busy, she and her father were left alone.

  She realized how much she loved him, and how sheltered her life had been, how she had been guarded and cared for, because he loved her so much in return. She had always known there was hardship in the world, and danger. She knew he was very worried for her now, and she wished he would believe her when she assured him that she was stronger than anyone might think.

  She would live with courage.

  And die the same, though she prayed it would not come to that.

  And she could even believe it…so long as the sun rode high in the sky.

  LOGAN PACED WHILE he ate, one eye on the entrance to their cave, so he could make sure no one was nearby and likely to discover them. He had feared his ruse might not work, that Colm and his men might search the island for further signs of habitation. But apparently Colm had been content to believe that the only tenants were dead.

  “The plan is still good,” he told Red. “I believe the men will drink themselves senseless as darkness comes. I believe Cassandra will be safe, as he feels she is a valuable asset. I fear for Lord Bethany if she is threatened, but I know how Blair’s mind works, and he will not allow the urges of his drunken crew to ruin a fine profit.” He paused and looked at Red, clearly worried as to how she would react to his words, for she knew far more than he did himself about the value placed on a woman’s virtue.

  But she was looking back at him, shoulders set, head high.