He forced himself to focus back on the situation. “Douse the ship’s lights. Don’t let him see our approach,” he called. “Be on deck in a minute.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” said Everett.
“I must go,” he whispered to Emma. “I do apologize for losing my control. I…I cannot explain my reaction to you.”
“I cannot explain mine to you either.” She gave him a bashful smile with heightened color. “Most unlike me.”
“I should hope so.”
She was so beautiful, and the image of her glorious body was etched so indelibly in his mind, it was all he could do to continue to get dressed.
She smiled at him and he paused a moment, actually debating whether or not he wanted to go after Harcourt. But they would never be safe if the demon was allowed to get away. This opportunity may never come again.
“I must go,” he whispered.
“I know. I will be praying for you.”
“I should pray for forgiveness,” he muttered.
“Fortunately, we have a merciful and gracious God.”
“Emma, if God brought you to me, which I concede might be the case, then you are correct: God is more gracious than I can ever deserve.”
She gave him a brilliant smile. The ship tilted, and he had to brace himself to keep his balance.
“Weather’s coming up,” he noted. “Stay here. Stay safe.”
“Will you return tonight?”
Dare shook his head. “The chase is on.”
“You need to rest.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Here with you, I would not sleep.”
Her color heightened again. “I suppose you are right.”
“That is one thing of which I am certain.” He kissed her cheek. He paused, trying to find the words to tell her what she meant to him. She gazed at him expectantly. What did he need to say? His mind went blank.
“I… Lock the door after I leave.” He turned to go.
It wasn’t until he was on the quarterdeck, scanning the dark horizon for a pinprick of light that might be Harcourt’s ship, that he remembered what he meant to say.
He had forgotten to tell her he loved her.
* * *
Emma stared at the cabin door long after he had left.
Despite the fact that things had become more heated than she had anticipated, she could not regret any of what had transpired. She only hoped they would both live to find a life together.
She had no illusions about the danger they faced. If they were right and Harcourt was also the feared Esqueleto, he was more than dangerous; he was deadly. The odds of going after him and surviving were not high.
The ship groaned and pitched as rain began to pelt the roof of her cabin in a constant drumbeat. Going after Harcourt was dangerous enough, let alone doing it in a storm.
She should have been terrified. She should have been miserable. And yet…all she could think about was how Dare kissed her. And every time she thought about his kisses, she smiled. His emotions had not been declared, but his kiss said everything he could not say.
He liked her. A lot. And that was good enough for her.
Despite being in the midst of a desperate situation, she hummed to herself in a slightly giddy manner. She was glad no one could see her, for she was heading into danger grinning like a madwoman.
Death might come, but she would face it with a smile on her face.
* * *
Dare searched the dark night for any sign of light. He found it and leaned against the railing, trying to identify the ship. Suddenly, lightning flashed and he saw it—the dark outline of a frigate matching the lines of the Kestrel.
“We will be at quarters,” called Dare.
The ship’s bell chimed to rouse the crew as Everett came to his side.
“Is it the Kestrel?”
“I believe so. More than that, I fear Harcourt may also be our pirate Esqueleto.”
“Esqueleto?” Everett’s eyes widened.
“Aye, and with the lightning, if we saw him…”
“Then he saw us.” Everett shook his head. “That’s not good.”
Orange lights flashed in the distance.
“Get down,” cried Dare as cannon fire ripped through the night. They were at a considerable distance and nothing struck the ship. Perhaps it was a warning shot. Dare hoped Harcourt did not know who it was coming up behind him.
Dare listened carefully to the cannon fire and the repeat, counting as they fired. He hoped Harcourt had also sailed with a light crew; otherwise, they were horribly outgunned. Dare cursed under his breath as he counted volleys. Harcourt had a full crew and could blast at him repeatedly.
“Hold back,” commanded Dare, letting the Kestrel pull away. “We are no match for her firepower.”
Cannon fire rang again through the storm, matching the thunder and lightning for flash and roar.
“I don’t think they are going to let us go,” shouted Everett, pointing at the Kestrel, which was coming about.
“Hard to larboard,” called Dare. “We’ll lose them in the storm.”
“We’ll have to go back to Portsmouth and get a proper crew.” Everett held on to the railing as a freezing wave crashed over the side, drenching them.
“No, we’ll lose Harcourt forever. We must take him now.”
“But how?”
“We know where he’s going. We can use that.”
Everett frowned as rain pelted him in the face. “Terrible risk.”
“It is all I have.”
They sailed through the night, losing the Kestrel in the storm. Dare plotted a course around the east side of Ilhas Desertas, which was within sight of Madeira. He reasoned that Harcourt would avoid announcing his presence to the British-controlled Madeira, so he would want to approach from the west side of the island. This would allow Dare the opportunity to sneak up from the opposite direction, as Harcourt searched for the sunken gig. Hopefully, they would be able to surprise Harcourt and take the ship before he had time to respond.
At least, that was the plan.
Forty-one
“Fire!” commanded Darington.
So far, his plan was working. He had sailed along the coastline of Ilhas Desertas in the early dawn. With break of day, the clouds parted and the sun began to shine. He hoped it was a good omen.
His guns were primed, his men ready. Emma was well and hidden. They sailed around one of the rocky cliffs that formed the desolate island and found the Kestrel, just as he had suspected. Now he just needed to blast the traitor from the earth.
Cannon blasted through the peaceful morning, sending huge flocks of birds into the air, basking seals jumping for the ocean, and the men on the Kestrel scrambling. The attack shot through their rigging, made a mess of the quarterdeck, and blasted holes through their sails, but did not cripple their ship.
“Over again! Fire!” Dare commanded.
This time, only three of his cannons responded amid the shouts and curses of the men below. The Kestrel was not long caught unawares, and a volley blasted from the enemy ship, ripping into their hull and across their deck.
“Fire again!” shouted Dare, running to the gun deck. Men and guns and power were in chaos. The Kestrel had aimed true, blasting into their gun deck and causing havoc. The men struggled to move the debris and reset the guns. Even Tobias Stalk pushed a cannon back into place with his one good hand.
Another volley blasted from the Kestrel and Dare ran back to the main deck. With a sickening sound, the main mast was struck, violently shooting splinters across the deck.
Dare watched in horror as the main mast of his beloved Lady Kate splintered, cracked, and collapsed, taking the sheets with it as it crashed over the side, into the ocean. Dare’s stomach sank with it. They were dead. They were all dead. He had failed. He had cos
t Emma her life.
They had drifted just beyond the range of the Kestrel and he watched helplessly as the wind filled the sails of the enemy ship and she slowly began to approach. There was nothing he could do. He was dead in the water. He had been in many battles, but never had he felt such a clawing desperation. Never had he had more to live for or more to lose.
The initial yelling and shouting of the crew had given way to silence, and everyone watched as the Kestrel charged toward them, slicing through the breakers like death’s own scythe. All eyes were on him now. What would he do? He was the undefeatable Captain Darington. Yet he had been defeated. Would he call the men to the guns for another pointless volley?
“Strike the colors. Raise the white flag.” Dare did not raise his voice; he did not have to. Everyone heard him in the silence. There was an awful pause, a moment for the awful truth to become reality as his crew registered the meaning of his words.
With a heavy sigh, Everett struck the flag. “Do we even have a white flag?” he grumbled. Dare had never used one. In truth, he had never thought to use it. He would fight until he won or he was dead. It was simple. But now, he had Emma to protect. Nothing else mattered.
Lord, please, help me keep her safe. He needed help and he trusted her faith to save them both.
The Kestrel leveled her guns and slid closer. They would soon be in range for a broadside, the enemy ship ready to strike the final blow.
“Captain Harcourt, a word with you if I may,” called Dare with an air of false calm. “Or perhaps I should call you Esqueleto.”
“So you finally know my name.” A weathered man in an ornate coat called back to him. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”
“You are responsible for my father’s death.” Dare’s voice rang out across the water.
The Kestrel sailed so close he could see the smirk on Harcourt’s face. “I was. And now I will be responsible for yours.”
“You killed him with poison,” observed Dare. “A woman’s weapon.” Crew on both ships gasped and Captain Harcourt’s smirk vanished. “For the murder of my father, I challenge you to a duel.” Dare was generally calm in battle, but this time, his heart was pounding.
“You have no right to challenge me to a duel. I’ve got you dead to rights. I can give the command and blow you into the surf!” shouted Harcourt.
“I should have known you would not have the courage to face me in combat,” Dare yelled in return. “That is why you snuck into my home and killed my injured father with poison—because you feared him as you fear me. Go ahead and give the command. But everyone will know the truth of what you are: a sniveling coward who is afraid to face me man to man.”
Dare’s crew shouted in agreement. Harcourt’s crew stared at their captain. If he did not meet Dare in combat, he would lose face. Dare only hoped he had baited him enough to accept the challenge, but not enough to blast him on the spot.
Harcourt’s face flushed red, his eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Cast the hooks! Bring her in!”
Dare held a hand to still his crew as the Kestrel slacked their sails and threw their grappling hooks, lashing onto the Lady Kate and bringing her in with a crunch. Dare tried to ignore the splintering sound of his ship as the two collided.
He stared at the man who had killed his father, robbed his inheritance, caused his sister no end of misery, and now threatened to kill him…and Emma.
Captain Harcourt leapt over the railings and was suddenly before him, seething with fury, breathing through his teeth. Dare was sobered by the muscular build of the man before him. The man was broad shouldered and thick necked. His presence oozed power, strength, and cold malice. “You will die today.”
“A duel to the death.” Dare knew this was how it must be. “Let us set terms.”
“Let us fight!”
“Since I have challenged you, you have the right to choose the weapon.” By convention, seconds would take up the negotiations of terms and attempt to dissuade the fight. No such civility would occur here.
“Swords, as we are gentlemen.” Harcourt smiled something malicious. Esqueleto’s skill with the sword was infamous.
“You, sir, are a traitor and no gentleman.”
Harcourt’s smile faded into a glare. “Duel to the death. Winner takes the ship, the cargo, and the crew.”
“And whatever it was that you wanted from the gig of the Mercedes.”
Harcourt’s nostrils flared and his eyebrows rose before he schooled his expression once more. “As you wish.”
Dare’s guess was right. The gig was from the Mercedes and Harcourt wanted it badly.
Dare had learned to size up any enemy and determine his best course for victory. He had hoped to find Harcourt past his prime, but this was not the case. The man was tall, strong, and vigorous, a worthy opponent. If Dare should fall to him, what would become of Emma hiding in his cabin?
“I have one request before we begin, if you would consent to indulge me,” said Dare in a calm, neutral tone.
“I have little care for your desires. What do you want?”
“I would ask that you preside over my wedding.”
Harcourt’s eyebrows soared up, his wide eyes a contrast to his usual squint. Harcourt stared at him. The crew on both ships gaped at him.
“Your wedding?”
Forty-two
“Mr. Stalk, please ask Miss St. James to join us on deck.” Dare hoped he was not committing the biggest mistake of his life.
Complete silence fell over the two crews, broken only by the occasional creaking of the ships as, lashed together, they rode the waves. Everyone stared at the open hatch, wondering what might emerge. Slowly, a bonnet appeared, and with no apparent distress or hurry, the figure of a woman became visible.
Emma kept the brim of her bonnet low, looking down to ensure her steps on the steep, narrow hatch stairs. She was dressed all in white, as if emerging for her coming-out ball, beautiful and unsullied by the ugliness of life around her. She paused a moment once she was standing on deck before lifting her chin, revealing her face to all assembled.
An audible gasp came from the crews of both ships. Dare had seen her every day for the past week and still his breath caught at her beauty. Her rosy cheeks, pure-blue eyes, and primrose mouth were a vision to behold. Blond curls escaped the bonnet and framed her face to charming effect.
She surveyed the assembled men and gave the company a gracious nod of her head. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
“But that’s the chit from the—” Whatever the sailor was going to say was instantly silenced by Tobias, who slammed his good fist into the man’s head, knocking him to the deck. Tobias bowed low to Emma and stood behind her with a menacing glare at all who faced her, her self-proclaimed protector.
The indomitable Miss St. James gave the crowd a warm smile and more than one sailor stood up straighter and tipped his cap. She looked as if she had walked into the hallowed halls of Almack’s itself. The men knew how to act at war. The men generally knew how to act in the presence of a lady. Put the two together and everyone was off balance.
“If you think trotting your trollop out on deck will make me spare your life, you are sadly mistaken.” Harcourt had overcome his initial surprise and narrowed his eyes once more into a penetrating leer.
“I do not require your leniency, for I will grant you none of my own. My request is simple—to witness my wedding. Then, we may proceed.” It occurred to Dare, belatedly, that perhaps he should have asked Emma to marry him before announcing this to all the ship. If she should refuse him now, it would make him look the fool and put her in grave danger. The first was of no consequence, but the latter was untenable.
He sought her eyes and held them. Please, please understand, he tried to send her the silent message. He was going into mortal combat with Harcourt, a dangerous man and formidable opponent. If Dare should fal
l, Harcourt would take the ship and find Emma. Harcourt would think her a common doxy, even Dare’s own crew would think the same, and she would be subjected to the worst treatment imaginable and either dumped at some port as a common whore or simply thrown overboard when the crew was done with her.
“Considering my current situation,” said Dare, too far into it to back down now, “I will write in the presence of these witnesses, my last will and testament.” He nodded at Everett, who scrambled below, returning with paper and quill.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” muttered Everett, turning around so Dare could use his back to write on.
“I hope so too,” murmured Dare in an undertone. “If I should fail…”
“Don’t fail,” said Everett in an urgent hiss.
Dare scratched out several lines, containing the most important aspects of his will. He hoped to live, but if he did not, he had to protect Emma even in death. Harcourt glared but made no attempt to stop him, waiting to see if the terms he had written were to his liking.
“There. I have completed my will, in which I leave all my worldly possessions to my future wife, Miss Emma St. James,” said Dare in a loud voice. “Mr. Everett, if you would sign as a witness.” Dare turned and Everett put the paper to Dare’s back to sign his name.
Emma’s only chance, should Dare fail, would be to have some value in the eyes of Captain Harcourt. As the widowed Countess of Darington, Emma would inherit everything. Harcourt would certainly not let the opportunity slip by to take advantage of the situation. It was still bad for Emma, but at least it brought her back to London in order for Harcourt to use her to get at Dare’s fortune currently held within the Bank of London. If nothing else, it kept her alive and gave her time to escape.
Dare took the will from Everett and slowly waved it in the air, drying the ink. He hoped Emma would understand. But would she accept such a backhanded, unconventional marriage proposal?
Earl Interrupted Page 26
