by Kim Bowman
“I’ve no time for your banter,” he spat.
“That would be a first. You seem to have enjoyed our banter the last time we quarreled.”
“Where is she?” Percy bellowed, tired of Burton’s games. Noise above drew Burton’s gaze momentarily.
“I simply cannot abide impatience, Blendingham. It quite takes all the joy out of a good plan. To be sure… you do appear the worse for wear. No cravat, I see. Your attire is socially reprehensible—”
“You are mad if you think you can keep me away from my wife.”
“I can and I will,” Burton said, his eyes gleaming murderously. “You see, you’ve slaughtered my men. An unregretable happenstance, I assure you, but one the port authorities will not understand.”
Percy’s brow furrowed. He didn’t intend for this situation to make it to his superiors. If it did, Simon and Nelson’s Tea would find a way to sort things out. That was what they did best. It was what he could count on.
“Who are you working with?”
Burton laughed wickedly. “Can’t you oblige me a moment to bask in the success I deserve for organizing this little assembly?”
He ignored the madman. “Where is Constance? What did you promise Guffald in order to gain his loyalty?”
“Come now. Guffald is not a child. He needed no coaxing from me to kidnap your wife.” Burton’s brows drew together. “Do you honestly believe that Guffald has been ill-used? Ah!” he said, eyes rounding, glimmering with glee. “I see that you do.” His girth expanded as he sucked in a satisfied breath. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that Guffald was never working alone?”
Percy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Guffald has never worked alone.”
“Surely you must have figured it out by now.” A wide grin transformed Burton’s face as he took his seat. “Mayhap not.” The man laughed wickedly. “Perhaps you have to see it with your own eyes in order to believe.”
“I want to see my wife.”
Burton coughed and then clapped his hands. A door hidden behind an enclosed bookcase creaked slowly open, revealing a mop-headed tar, followed by his rumpled friend — Guffald.
Percy lunged forward to ring the captain’s neck. “Where—”
“Hold,” Burton exclaimed. “Don’t come any closer.”
“I’d like to see you stop me,” Percy threatened.
A chilling threat illuminated from Guffald. His movements were slow and unsteady as he shuffled into the room. Constance followed, terror apparent in her eyes. A dark figure trailed behind her, riding close to her skirts. A flash of silver gleamed in the lantern light. Constance whimpered. Percy zeroed in on his wife’s neck where a knife wedged perilously close to her jugular. Her delicate flesh had been slightly nicked. Droplets of blood cascaded in rivulets down her neck and plopped onto her bosom in stark contrast to her almond gown. He took a menacing step forward but stopped short as the face of her assailant came into view.
“Frink!”
“Good of you to remember me,” the pirate captain teased. “Aye, it appears we are back where we started, Sexton.” He leaned his mouth close to Constance’s ear. “Or is it, Your Grace?”
Constance winced as Frink blew his fetid breath into her face.
“Come, come now, Frink,” Burton insisted. “Save your vengeance for later. Yes. Yes. Resist the urge to do what comes naturally. I want Constance to witness her husband’s death, not beat him to the grave. It will serve her well to know who her true master will be.”
Percy lost control. “You son of a—”
Frink applied more pressure to Constance’s throat and another sliver of blood dripped down her neck.
“Rush me again. I killed her mother and spared her. Now I can finish what I started.” Frink’s eyes gleamed mischievously.
Constance squirmed and cried out. Tears streamed down her face. The air went out of Percy’s lungs. What had Frink done to her as a child?
Guffald spoke. “Lady Danbury was killed on the Caddock?”
“Aye,” Frink admitted, thoroughly amused.
Burton laughed wickedly. “And who do you think arranged her disappearance?”
“You?” Percy asked. Bloody hell. Constance had risked everything to sail again rather than marry the devil and look where it had gotten her. His heart constricted. How far back did the man’s demented schemes go?
Guffald stepped forward, placing himself between Frink and Burton with an ease Percy would have never thought possible. “This was not part of our bargain.”
Frink laughed wickedly. “What did Burton promise you? Your own ship? The Stockton, perhaps? A safe getaway with the woman you love?”
Guffald inched closer by agonizing degrees while he kept Frink talking. “What do you know about love?”
“At least a woman will never get under my skin,” Frink spat.
Burton rose from his seat, grimacing. He pointed a crooked finger at Frink and then re-aimed his overlong cutlass at Guffald. “Hold where you are!”
Percy’s fists clenched tighter and his teeth ground until he thought they would crack. A deep-seated hatred surged inside him as he stared into Frink’s unrelenting, empty eyes. Nothing was more dangerous than a man bent on vengeance. Burton was all bluster, but in Frink, he would find no weakness. The man had a reputation for gutting close friends. And the captain had an axe to grind where he was concerned. Percy had tried to kill him and had taken command of his ship. An affront Frink would do anything to avenge. His ego had been bruised, his authority questioned. Unfortunately, Constance would satisfy the man’s need for vengeance because Frink now knew she was Percy’s Achilles’ heel.
“Release the girl,” Burton ordered.
Frink glared menacingly. “I’m tired of you orderin’ me about, Burton.”
“Lord Burton to you, Captain!” Ah! Burton’s vanity would get the better of him.
“I thought you never took orders, Frink,” Percy taunted, determined to ruin the relationship between the two men, because in doing so he stood a better chance of getting their attention away from Constance and getting her out alive. “You appear to have been taking them for eleven years.”
“No one need ever know,” he said, addressing Percy. “If it weren’t for Whistler and Burton here, I’d have gained all I wanted and more, and the Octavia would have easily been another Caddock.”
“Whistler.” Percy’s voice came out in a rush.
Burton’s gaze settled accusingly on Guffald.
Percy’s gut tightened as the depth of Guffald’s treachery became absolutely clear. He turned toward his friend. “You?”
Guffald blinked nervously. “I had my reasons.”
“What reasons outweigh the needs of your country?” Percy asked.
“It was the only way I could have her,” Guffald admitted. “Her father made it clear he would never accept me.”
“Simon trusted you, Henry. I trusted you.”
“You can’t possibly understand. You’ve never been deprived of anything. You, heir to a dukedom and now a duke, have always been fancied by fathers as a choice pick. While I worked my way up the ranks, you were never denied anything.”
Percy shouted, “Do you think I chose to be what I am?”
Guffald’s tone hardened. “Except in this one instance, I’ve never been able to choose.”
Burton scoffed “Tsk. Tsk. This debacle makes my stomach turn.”
Guffald continued, drawing attention to himself. “You have no idea what hurdles I’ve had to jump in order to maintain my position.”
“You earned your place on merit,” Percy validated. “You’ve abandoned your country for this?” he asked incredulous, shaking his finger at the man holding his wife hostage.
Guffald gazed at Constance. “A fact that does not grant me permission to marry the woman I love.”
Burton coughed. “I hate to interrupt your performance, Guffald, but we sail within the hour.”
Guffald held both his hands up and backe
d away from Frink. He headed for the door. Was that it? Was he going to walk away and abandon them? Percy growled low, desiring to wring the man’s neck. He stepped in front of Guffald, refusing to allow the captain to leave.
“Move aside,” Guffald ordered.
“You’re not leaving my wife with them.”
“Don’t force me to hurt you,” Guffald pleaded, his eyes darted from Percy to the two other men then back. He blinked — twice. A signal.
Percy caught on quickly. It was a warning sign they’d used many times before. Two blinks meant it was time to strike. Percy had no problem playing the game, but this time his family’s life was in jeopardy. “She’s pregnant, Henry,” he whispered.
“Get on with it,” Burton grunted.
“Percy!” Constance screamed.
His attention went to her as she elbowed Frink in the side. With a mad dash, she rushed toward Percy. Frink’s reflexes were lightning quick. He reached out and put a restraining hand on Constance’s arm, pulling her back against him. He laughed as she squirmed, then he cast Percy a victorious smirk.
Percy watched in horror.
“That’s what I love. A warm, unwilling woman,” Frink bragged, twisting Constance around in his arms until she was face to face with him, leaning sideways to overt the man’s mouth.
“Now, now,” Burton insisted. “Don’t manhandle our prize, Frink.”
“Who are you to be spouting orders? You want her for yourself. Don’t deny it. I know where I stand, and she does too. I’ll have my fun before ye spoil her like the others.”
Burton began to squirm and his rounded eyes beamed white. “Nonsense! Quit playing games.”
“Others?” Guffald asked.
Frink’s buoyant laughter filled the cabin. “Our lovely beauty won’t be pretty for long if Burton gets her.”
“What is he talking about?” Guffald shouted.
“Don’t listen to him, Captain,” Burton spat. “He’s only trying to ruin our well-laid plans.”
Percy’s attention was riveted on Constance. Their eyes met, locked, and clung as he silently urged her to stay strong, to trust him. She appeared ready to collapse and that made him fear for the baby. She’d grown pale, her face streaked with trailing tears. Even still, even now, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Percy’s throat constricted. He hated Frink, hated Burton, and wanted to kill them. Flexing his fists, he waited for a chance to make his move. The timing was critical. It had to be right. For Constance’s sake. For the baby’s sake.
“I remember a certain filly, young and primed to please a man when the occasion allowed,” Frink taunted. “I recollect she had auburn hair, eyes like a calm sea—”
Percy’s eyes widened and his heart missed a beat. He sucked in a breath.
“She welcomed the driving thrusts of a rutting man and begged for more like a starving harlot.” Frink cackled as he moved to stroke Constance’s breast. Had the man finally snapped?
Percy knew better. Every muscle in his body grew rigid. He flexed his fingers, hungry for the truth, hating himself for it, deliberately biding his time.
“What girl?” he asked. Constance’s mother?
“Burton,” Frink confessed, “is not a pirate. He doesn’t live by a code. I’m thinking you know what I’m talking about, Sexton. But not Burton. He has certain desires that cannot be quenched until he’s destroyed whatever treasure he’s found.”
“What girl?” Percy shouted.
“Enough!” Burton screeched. “You’re ruining everything!”
“I hold the cards now — or should I say treasure? I’ll decide when enough is enough.” Frink turned his bloodthirsty stare on Percy. “You infiltrated my ship, ate and slept with my crew, Sexton. Killed and murdered with the best of us. Worked your way into my trust. You’re a black-hearted wretch. This girl,” he said, eyeing Percy, notching her neck with his blade, “means something to you, and because of your attachment to her, I’m going to enjoy watching you watch her suffer.”
“This wasn’t part of our plan. You talk too much, Frink. Bring me the girl,” Burton said.
Guffald stepped slowly toward the captain, his face stern, voice even. “Give her to me, Frink.”
Frink’s eyes narrowed as the men approached him. His lips tightened until they resembled reptilian slits. “I’ve never seen a man scour the earth for answers the way you did, Sexton. Funny — the answers were never far from home.”
“Frink!” Burton howled, stamping his foot.
“Makes no difference now, does it, Burton? Sexton’s a dead man. As a matter of fact, we’re all dead,” he said, looking at every man standing in the room. “Burton will make sure of it.” Frink centered his attention on Percy.
“I wanted you to know that Burton’s the man you’ve been searching for. He had me kill Throckmorton’s wife to prime the duke for an alliance with the lady here. When he tired of waiting for her, he took your sister because he wanted her dowry. The only problem was, you stood in the way. When he couldn’t get past your father, he made certain the man was badly maimed for his trouble. Sly one, he is.”
Percy’s heart thumped wildly. Burton had orchestrated Lady Throckmorton’s death? His father’s accident? What kind of monster was he? His murderous eyes turned to Burton and he waited — waited for Frink to finish, waited for the final words that would unleash his white-hot rage. His gut clenched, every muscle in his extremities primed to kill.
Burton’s face reddened. His eyes took on a demonic fire. The bastard confessed, “No matter how much weight I tossed around or how many times I begged your father to grant me permission to court your sister, I was met with disdain. Your father’s dismissal was his final mistake.” He wrung his hands together, deep in thought, unable to stop his guilty purge. “Celeste was foolish. She believed my amorous advances and pledged her loyalty to me, above that of her family, above you, Blendingham.” His laugh held a haunting disquiet. “You cannot imagine how much I’ve coveted that knowledge. But you — oh! You were the perfect brother, always attentive, never at a loss to defend. I vowed to have her no matter the cost. We snuck away to Gretna Green. But midway, Celeste could talk of nothing but you, losing your regard, being disowned for her hasty decision. She practically begged me to take her back home. But once I had her, I wasn’t going to be left empty-handed.”
Constance’s eyes brimmed with tears. His gaze locked with hers, and the buttresses around his heart gave way. The organ thudded thickly, and a sense of urgency rose within him. Every move he made, every word he said meant the difference between life and death. It gutted him to relive Celeste’s pain — to make Constance relive the past. And yet, he had to know what had happened to his sister.
“I solicited an inn,” Burton continued, “and a private room where I took her again and again, hoping to vanquish the ache in my throbbing cock. Days later, after having my fill, I left her to fend for herself, thankful I never had to see the sobbing mass of fluff again.”
“How could you? You killed my mother! You’re not human,” Constance screeched then winced as Frink squeezed her back against his chest, choking off her breath with his square, meaty palm.
Percy’s eyes narrowed as Burton frowned and approached Constance. “Women need to be shown their place, you understand,” he said.
Constance’s fear was evident as Burton drew closer. Her frantic scream pierced the air. In her fright, she must have tried to get free or injure Frink, because the captain toppled backward, leaving Constance facing Burton alone. Burton pulled a pistol from behind his back and aimed.
Percy shifted to the tips of his toes, ready to pounce. He held his breath as Burton’s trigger finger flexed.
“Don’t move!” Burton yelled. “If I cannot have you, no one can.”
Constance’s frightened green eyes flicked to Percy. She held his gaze, blinked, then rested her hand protectively on her abdomen as she froze before the half-crazed baron.
Bloody hell! She was saying goodbye.
>
Percy fumed with disbelief. He hadn’t sacrificed years of his life for Celeste, for England and Nelson’s Tea, for his father and in search of his sister’s killers only to go through the worst kind of hell known to man — witnessing the death of a wife and child. No. This wasn’t a reprieve from hell. He’d fought back from the edge of oblivion and found the will to live again in the form of a young woman who’d faced her demons and trusted him to help her combat them — Burton and Frink. He couldn’t fail now!
Percy wrenched free from Frink’s henchman. No one was going to kill his wife and baby. He’d die before he allowed it. He eyed Burton with increasing annoyance and advanced on the baron, prepared to cut him down before Burton had the chance to fire the gun in his hand. But as he stepped forward with blood in mind, another one of Burton’s men attacked him.
Now he wouldn’t reach her in time. “Constance!” Percy yelled, balling his fists and beating the man senseless to get away.
A sinister smile tugged Burton’s lips. “This is one more thing I shall steal from you, Blendingham.”
Guffald bolted forward. The gun fired and sulphur filled the air.
A primal howl escaped Percy’s lips. Was Constance dead? Had Guffald reached her in time? Blood began to pool on the cabin floor at their feet. Driven mad, Percy flipped his attacker against the wall and leaped toward Burton, knocking the gun out of Burton’s hand. He forced the lord down onto the floor and began to pound the man’s stodgy face with his fists, hitting Burton again and again, animal instincts taking over as he exacted his revenge. He didn’t stop until he heard Burton’s neck snap. Men shuffled through the companionway, shouting Percy’s name. It was Ollie and Jacko with a team of reinforcements. Movement in the corner. A flash of red caught his eye. Captain Frink sought escape through the same hidden compartment Guffald and Constance had entered. Blinded by rage he couldn’t control, Percy gave chase, following Frink to the Stockton’s foredeck.
“Figure on ending what ye started, boy?” Frink goaded, whirling around to face him.
“Yes.” Percy grinned. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
