“Rory, let me explain—”
“No, Guillermo, you can’t.”
He put out his hand to her quivering shoulder but drew back before he touched her. Rising to his feet, he said, “As you wish, Rory. Just remember that I hope for you all the happiness you deserve, mi querida.” When she did not look up, he walked away.
Rory peered into the jungle, hoping for any sign to show her that Nathan and Ernest were still alive. She knew her hopes were becoming more futile with the passage of each hour. Somewhere, they were left uncovered in the sun. She knew what would happen if she asked Yellow Hal to order his men to give them a proper burial. He would laugh.
As if her thoughts could take form, Yellow Hal crossed the clearing and drew her to her feet. “’Tis a grand morning, Rory, my girl, for you are going to lead me to Powell’s gold.” The laugh she despised filled her ears.
She smiled, and he frowned. Let the gold’s curse destroy him as it had her heart. “Yes, Captain Warwick. I will lead you to the gold. Take me to the headwaters of the creek, and I will show you where it is.”
Untying the rope from the tree, he tugged on it. “Come along, wench, and make us wealthy men.” He laughed when she tripped on her torn chemise.
The men fell in line behind them as they went to the creek. Her hands were lashed together, so Guillermo walked beside her, pushing aside branches and cutting vines to let her slip through the underbrush.
She listened to Yellow Hal’s men brag about what they would buy with their share of the gold. Biting her lip, she tried to ignore the waves of pain. This gold should have been her father’s. Her father’s and her mother’s and hers as they shared the life they should have had. It should have been shared with the Blindman. And Nathan.… It should have bought him the respect he yearned for in Maryland. Now, it would buy these pirates rum and women and more ships to steal more gold.
As the sun rose higher, the heat became unbearable. Rory fought her nausea, for she could not become ill as she had in Havana. Yellow Hal would have no compassion for her. With every step, he increased their pace.
Rory dropped to the ground when they paused by the creek, which bubbled out from the rocks to splash down to the sea. Her chest heaved with fatigue. Food was pressed into her bound hands, and she stared at the meat, which smelled of brine.
“Eat, Rory, mi querida, “urged Guillermo as he sat next to her. “You must eat.”
If she did, she would throw up. She tossed the meat on the ground. Drawing up her knees, she rested her cheek on them. She should have gone with Nathan when he first told her about the Raven. Then, Yellow Hal would never have guessed that the key to her father’s poem had been working in his tavern. She had been a fool to gamble on going back into Port Royal, and now she had to pay.
“Get away from her, Herrera y Fallas!” Yellow Hal kicked at him. “I don’t want you near her again.”
“Captain—”
“Stay away from her, or I will let you watch while I bruise her pretty face again.” He pulled on the rope. She came to her feet with a gasp of pain. That brought a smile as he drew her toward him. Bending down, he thrust his face in front of hers, his eyes on fire with gold lust. “Now, Rory, my girl, tell me where Powell hid his treasure. We will find it, then you share your own treasures with me on the Scourge.” He crowed as he twisted his fingers into her hair. “All Powell held most dear will be mine.”
She wondered if her father could have imagined this would happen. Maybe he, too, had begun to suspect the gold was cursed, and he would be happy to have his murderer possess it. She had to believe that.
Looking past him, she smiled. “There,” she said, pointing across the creek. “My father said it would be in a cave over there on the left side of the hill.”
“Come with me, my girl, and help me look.”
“No!”
“Why not? Powell wanted his blackbird of the dawn to have his gold.” He herded her across the creek.
She could not tell him the truth, that she wanted to stay far from the gold. He would use her own fear to break her will.
Yellow Hal led the way but ordered his men to fan out along the hillside to search for the cave, which might be well hidden after so many years. Knives clanged against the rocks as his men looked for the opening.
After an hour, Yellow Hal’s impatience became a monstrous roar. He cursed when one of his men offered him a drink of rum to ease his thirst. Slapping the flask from the man’s hand, he ignored it shattering on the stones.
“Have you told us a lie, wench?”
She laughed. “No, I haven’t lied to you. It is here on the hillside, but you are looking in the wrong place.” She pointed to a clump of briars at the base of the hill. “That is where it will be.”
“You knew? Why didn’t you tell us?” Astonishment took the rage from his voice.
“No one asked me. I think if you look there, Captain, you will find what you have murdered and tortured to find.”
His quick orders sent two men to cut back the thick bushes. In the shadows beyond was an opening in the stone, the height of Rory’s shoulders but twice as wide.
Shouts rang along the creek. Torches were lit. Yellow Hal grabbed the first one. Again, Guillermo dropped into line directly behind Rory. He put his hand on her shoulder as they ducked under the low stones.
Cool air evaporated the sweat sliding down her back. The aroma of damp earth filled each breath as she walked along a short tunnel. In a dozen paces, she reached a large cavern. A cheer echoed eerily as the glitter of the gold appeared in the light of Yellow Hal’s torch.
In spite of herself, she stared. Scores of chests were stacked in the cave. Gold spilled from one to glisten like an earthbound star. Never had she imagined this much gold had been waiting for her.
Yellow Hal handed the torch to one of his men and walked to the closest chest. Because he did not release her, Rory went with him. Using the butt of his long knife, he broke the rusted lock. He flipped back the top on leather hinges, which cracked and broke. A murmur of awe rippled through the cavern as he lifted up a gold cup encrusted with jewels.
He seized a gold breastplate from the open chest. With a laugh, he turned toward Rory.
She backed away. “No!” If the gold touched her, she might be cursed, too.
Grabbing her at the waist, he hooked it around her neck. “There, Rory, my girl. The gold Keller, Powell, and Lawler died to keep me from having is mine. I told Powell it would be mine, and it is! It is mine! Can you hear me, Powell? I have it and your daughter, and I intend to enjoy both!” His deranged laugh reverberated off the cave walls. He pulled out other pieces and draped them over her.
Rory cringed as each piece of gold touched her. Its weight and rough edges cut into her skin. When Yellow Hal turned to order his men to carry the chests out of the cave, she pulled off the gold and threw it on the ground.
Looking at her, he laughed. “No taste for gold, Rory, my girl?” He hooked a golden sash around her. Abruptly, he brought her to him and forced her mouth under his.
When he pushed her back onto the gold-covered floor, she screamed. His men laughed as they carried the chests out of the cave. She rolled to her feet and ran. He let her go until the rope grew taut. Then, with a tug, he jerked her back to him.
“What’s wrong, Rory? Have you never dreamed of lying in a bed of gold?” He stretched out and grasped a crown. He put it on her head. “I could make you the queen of Port Royal when I’m its king.”
She lifted the crown off and threw it away. With a curse, he grabbed the back of her dress.
“No!” Guillermo held his sword out and advanced on Yellow Hal.
Rory realized they were the only ones in the cavern. The others had taken out the first load of gold.
“I won’t let you rape her, Warwick,” Guillermo said quietly. “I’ve discovered she deserves better than that.” His lips twisted in a superior smile. “Better than you.”
“You?” sneered the pirate.
/> “What do you care? You have the gold. Let her go.”
Rory did not understand what Yellow Hal snarled in Spanish, but Guillermo’s lip curled with fury. His motion with the sword was clear in any language. “Release her, Warwick.”
She was astounded when Yellow Hal obeyed. She took one step toward her most unexpected ally, then Yellow Hal shoved her away. His other hand whipped out.
The sword fell from Guillermo’s hand as he gaped at the long knife sunk in his stomach. He whispered, “Forgive me, mi querida.” He crumbled to the ground.
Yellow Hal withdrew his knife and wiped the blood on Guillermo’s sleeve.
She pressed her hands to her mouth and backed away. Yellow Hal snatched the rope around her hands. His sharp pull spun her back to him. With a smile, he twisted his hand in her hair again.
“Cap’n!” came the shout from outside. “The chests are rotten. They keep breaking open. We need help.”
With a curse, he bellowed, “How can chests break open by themselves?”
Rory did not dare to breathe. Was it possible? Could Nathan or Ernest still be alive, foiling Yellow Hal’s plan to take the gold?
He growled another oath. “Come on, my girl. Those incompetent fools can’t do anything. Come on. You can wait for me on the Scourge.” He pressed her to his sweaty body. “Do you understand what I mean?”
She smiled as he bent to put his abominable lips on her—then her knee jerked up. She might have missed her target the first night Nathan held her on the Vengeance, but she did not now.
Yellow Hal howled in agony. Picking up the crown, she broke it over his head.
When he fell to the cave floor, she said, “I’ve always understood you.”
She ran awkwardly out of the cave, trying to free her hands. His men were scrambling to gather up the gold scattered across the hill and into the creek. She raced away from the creek and the men and the treasure.
Suddenly, her arm was grasped. She whirled and cried, “Nathan! You’re alive!”
“Barely.” He lifted her wrists and sliced through her bonds. When she threw her arms around him, he kissed her with swift longing. Then he drew back and stared at the gold belt around her waist. “That’s quite a collection of gold, Rory.”
“There’s a lot more back there. All over the ground.” She laughed, unable to control her joy. “I knew it must be you or Ernest causing trouble for Yellow Hal’s men.” She framed his face with her hands. “Guillermo told me you were dead.”
“He probably thought I was.” He grinned, but she saw the lines of pain ground into his face. “I thought I was.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” she said softly, glancing back at the cave. She recalled how Guillermo had wished her happiness. Had he known Nathan was still alive? She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You are alive!”
“So is Ernest. He’s been busy breaking holes into those chests. Warwick’s fools are so blinded by that gilt that they haven’t noticed him.” He drew her closer and kissed her with a desire he could not disguise. “Come on, sweetheart. We have to meet Ernest.”
Rory heard Yellow Hal’s roar as she put her hand in Nathan’s. She did not look back as she hurried with Nathan through the jungle. She doubted if he would search for her. He could not know when or if the Vengeance would return. He needed to get the gold loaded on the Scourge.
The bushes parted in front of them. Nathan pushed Rory behind him and drew his pistol. He chuckled when Ernest peeked out.
“You’re going to get yourself killed if you pop out of bushes like that.”
Ernest smiled weakly. His shirt had been wrapped around his shoulder. Blood had stained it a deep burgundy. “I assume you heard Warwick’s displeasure at Miss Rory’s escape.”
Nathan laughed. “It was hard to miss. Thanks for freeing her.”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?” He turned to look at Rory, who sparkled with the gold she was wearing. When her chin rose and she patted her knee, he had to laugh. “I take it your aim has improved.”
“Vastly.” She smiled and crossed her arms in front of her, and he saw the impudent lad she had pretended to be.
But there was nothing boyish about the curves so enticingly revealed beneath the ripped coat that must have been Herrera y Fallas’s, for the pirates would not wear something so garish. He thought of how he had held her before he woke from Warwick’s sleeping powder to find his arms empty. His fingers lifted one strand of her hair; it was matted and dirty but beneath as glorious as the gold.
Ernest wore a perplexed frown. “Cap’n, we can’t stay here. Warwick was leaving with the gold when I slipped away, but he’ll be back for the rest in about two or three hours.”
“The rest?” He glanced back at the now-empty creek. “There’s more?”
She sighed. “That was only about half of what was in the cave. If you want, I will take you there.”
He looked down into her haunted eyes. He wondered what she had endured since Herrera y Fallas had knocked him senseless yesterday. Although he and Ernest had skulked after Warwick’s men, he had not been able to see into the cave. His teeth clenched when he thought of how close Warwick must have been to Rory for her to drive her knee into him.
“The three of us,” he said, as he drew her to him, “are in no condition to confront Warwick’s men. Do you know where they are bound?”
“Port Royal.”
He smiled. “Then that’s where the Vengeance will be bound. We’ll let Warwick do all the work loading the gold and delivering it there. Then, after we have delivered him to the authorities, the gold will be ours.”
Seventeen
Ernest stared up at the sails and swore. They were limp. Not a breath of air lifted them to send the Vengeance dancing across the waves. It had been like this for almost a fortnight as they struggled on the sea halfway between Raven Isle and Jamaica. They had fought for every inch of water they had gained, seeking any hint of wind.
If the Scourge had not ruined the foremast, they might have been able to tack, using what breeze there was to the best advantage. The mast had been sawed away, for even the shrouds could not keep it from dipping into the waves, slowing them even more.
He frowned when he saw a slender form on the deck by the remains of the mast. What was Miss Rory doing so close to the rails? They were not too steady there, where another ball from the Scourge had grazed the starboard bow. No major damage, but even she should be aware that one strong wave might finish what the attack on the ship had begun.
Striding across the deck that rose and fell with the slow motion of the waves under it, he pulled his hat off. The cap’n would be furious to see her out here without something to protect her from the sun. If she sickened as she had in Cuba, they might not be able to get to Jamaica in time to find a doctor to help her.
His steps faltered when she turned from the rail and folded up to sit on the deck. Her shoulders sagged, and her face had become the gray-green of the waves. Her hands were pressed to her middle as she let her head fall back. With her eyes closed, she could not see him.
He had seen enough, however. Turning on his heel, he strode to where Nathan was coming out of his quarters.
“Cap’n!” he called.
He was waved to silence, and he saw Nathan was scanning the sails as he had. No amount of scowling would bring forth the wind that had abandoned them. He knew because he had tried. When Nathan shaded his eyes and peered toward the horizon, he swore.
Ernest smiled. “Doesn’t help, Cap’n.”
“Makes me feel better.”
“Then maybe you can help Miss Rory feel better.”
Nathan pulled his gaze from where the waves vanished into the sky. “What’s wrong with Rory?”
“She’s at the bow, looking like a new sailor in the middle of his first storm.”
Clapping his first mate on the shoulder, Nathan walked forward. This calm was a warning that the Lawler luck had not changed. By this time, the Scourge, w
hose greater expanse of sails could capture even the faintest breeze, must be moored in Port Royal harbor. Warwick would be wasting no time telling everyone who would listen—and that would be most of Port Royal, for he had intimidated everyone in the city—that he had trounced Nathan Lawler and found the Raven’s gold.
He smiled wryly. He did not care what Warwick said. For too many years, he had been sailing these waters, eager to prove to everyone that he could find the legendary treasure. With Rory’s help, he had. As soon as they reached Jamaica, he would see it was returned to its rightful owner—Aurora Raven Mullins. Her father had died to see that she had it, and Yellow Hal would not halt her from claiming her birthright. He owed Rory that much for trying to give him his dreams.
Then … he was not sure what he would do then. Not that it would matter if the winds did not return before they died of starvation or thirst here in the middle of the sea.
When he saw Rory huddled on the deck, he rushed to her side. He knelt and brushed her hair back from her face, which was drenched with cool sweat. “Rory, what are you doing out here without a hat?”
She pulled a battered hat from underneath her and put it on her head with quivering fingers. It suited the rest of her mismatched clothes, for she wore one of his shirts over a pair of Ernest’s breeches that she had shortened. Her legs were bare, and she had pieces of canvas lashed around her feet because they had no shoes on board to fit her.
“Go away, Nathan,” she groaned as she sagged back against the mast.
“Are you sick?”
“I was.” One corner of her mouth tilted. “I think I got rid of whatever was making my stomach ache.” She grimaced as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Or maybe not.”
Slipping his arm behind her shoulders, he leaned her against him. Shudders raced through her, then slowed as she began to breathe more easily. Her golden hair drifted along his arm, but there was not even enough wind to tease it.
“I must have eaten a bad piece of fruit,” she whispered.
“Fruit? I thought what we gathered before we left Raven Isle was all gone.”
Raven Quest Page 16
