by Suzie Grant
cringed. Angel held fast until the wagon righted itself, and she prayed the poor man hadn’t been injured.
She made another turn onto High Street, and from the corner of her eye, she spotted Blac on a horse
a little ways behind her. Mounted, he would be able to catch her quickly.
Angel sat forward and slapped the reins harder. She had to get more distance between them. Her
heart picked up speed along with the clatter of the hooves on the ground. Adrenaline rushed through her
veins and a thrill shimmied through her as the silly realization that for once, Blac was chasing her. She
giggled at the irony.
Thunder crashed and rumbled the ground beneath the wagon. Within a matter of minutes, the storm
turned into a full-force gale. The sheer power of the wind tore tears from her eyes and blasted the heavy
mass of her hair over one shoulder.
Angel stood and balanced her feet with the sway of the wagon floor. Her bound hands made her
hesitate, but she refused to give up so easily. Perhaps I can jump to the horse and un-harness him. She’d
have a better chance of getting away on a horse than in this wagon.
But with her hands tied it would make the jump more difficult. Could she make it? She bit her lip.
All right, Angel, take a deep breath and jump!
~*~
Blac’s heart slammed against his ribs and stuck there. The damn fool woman was going to jump.
Leaning low over the horse’s neck, he urged it faster. He came abreast of the wagon, grabbed hold, and
heaved himself over the side.
As he struggled to climb inside, his sword slid from the scabbard and skimmed across the planks
toward the front of the wagon. Angel glanced back and reached over the seat for his sword.
He lumbered to his feet unsteadily as the cart weaved heavily to the left. He dove for her hand,
trusting that she wouldn’t stick him. Surely not. They’d known each other far too long.
Clasping the sword just under her hand, she held fast and wouldn’t let go. They struggled, each
straining to wrench the sword from the other.
“Don’t be a little fool, Angel. Give me the sword.”
“No,” she screamed over the fury of the storm. “I won’t be taken prisoner.”
With no one controlling the horses, they raced hell-bent down the cobbled lane. The reins had long
since fallen over the side of the wagon, and dangled uselessly. The clatter of hooves on stone mirrored the
thunder of the storm.
Wind hurtled objects like musket balls. They pinged against the side of the buildings and the wagon.
Something flew past Blac’s head and he ducked. “Angel, cease!” he tried to yell over the howl of the
wind. With the storm getting increasingly more dangerous, they had to get inside, and quickly.
The wagon hit a bump in the road, launched them into the air, and they landed hard with a grunt.
Blac collapsed against the planks. He gripped the slats and held tight, his legs sliding to and fro. Angel
held firm to the back of the seat. She tried to stand once again while holding the sword but lost her
balance, falling with her face between his legs. The situation would have made him chuckle had she not
suddenly begun to slide headlong off the back of the wagon. She dropped the weapon to reach for some
kind of handhold. His legs clamped hard on her and one hand shot out to secure an ankle. She screamed in
fear and his heart leaped in response.
Her upper body hung off the edge of the wagon. Her arms flailed uselessly. “Blac!”
“I’ve got you,” he said, even while his hand around her ankle slipped. She screamed again and his
legs clasped her harder. “I’m not letting you go, Angel. Just hang on!”
He pulled and released quickly enough to grab the fabric of her trousers, and then repeated until
he’d scooted her completely back into the wagon. She fastened her hands to his legs and crawled up his
body into his arms with a sigh of relief in his ear.
For one second, he closed his eyes. That had been too close. He would have never forgiven himself
had something happened to Logan’s daughter, but he didn’t want to examine too closely what he’d felt.
Grey clouds released and rain pelted them like tiny needle pricks. The entire sky grew black and the
downpour came in sheets, obliterating any visibility. He squinted against the onslaught but they had to get
out of this weather, and soon.
Wind ripped a palm tree from its perch and toppled it directly across the lane. His heart stammered
to a stop. They would crash right into it. Blac glanced past Angel’s head to the felled palm in the road.
She must’ve noticed his hesitation, for she too turned to look ahead of them. Angel gasped and
screamed. The horses barreled toward it, leaving them little time to react. Blac let go of the side and
covered her with his body just before impact.
The horses swerved to the right to avoid the tree, but the wagon careened to the left. Shards of
wood exploded, and the collision hurtled both Blac and Angel into the air.
The force broke his hold on Angel and he crashed into several barrels of liquid, which burst upon
contact. He rolled over and cracked his head against the side of a brick building. His vision swam in and
out. Blac raised his hands to his head and closed his eyes. The scent of strong rum drifted to him. What a
waste of good liquor.
Soaked, sore, and irritated as hell, he struggled to his feet. His eyes swept the area for Angel’s
blonde head, but he couldn’t find her. He frowned. Where was she?
His heart tripped. Was she hurt ? “Angel!” he shouted. He crossed to the cart wreckage and
rummaged through the pieces of wood. Rain impaired his vision and he couldn’t see a damn thing. Where
was she? He shouted her name again, and the wind tore it from his mouth.
Fear slithered down his spine. Was she hurt? Dead?
He frantically searched for her; his heart thundered inside his chest. What the damned impulsive
woman needed, once he found her, was a damn good paddling, which Logan should have done years ago.
A moan sounded and he strode toward it.
Heaving a large piece of the wagon siding aside, he found her. Relief exploded from him in a
whoosh. The wind died down to a soft whine. Her eyes were closed, and raindrops trickled across her
smooth skin. She was beautiful. He kneeled next her. Lifting her, he whispered, “Angel. Wake up,
sweetheart. Are you all right?”
Past images of Angel flashed through his mind and he realized how much he’d missed her smile.
Angel and Logan had both become such a large part of his life over the years that he wasn’t certain what
he would do if he lost them both. “Are you injured?” he whispered.
Before he had her hauled to her feet, the tip of his own sword pricked him just beneath his chin. Her
reflexes had improved much over the last two years. “You should be advised, Captain Barclay, I am no
longer a child.”
Blac tilted his chin higher at the deliberate point she managed to include with her words. He’d yet
to drop his hands. “I expected no less, Angel. You were far from childhood the last time we met, if I
remember correctly.”
“Yes I was, but you don’t have to be a child to be naïve, and for that I should thank you. It was
obviously a lesson I needed to learn, and learn it I did.”
He shook his head. “You speak of things you know little about.”
“Do not think for a second that I
will listen to your excuses now.” The tip of the sword drew blood,
which trickled down his neck. “My only hope is that my father never learns of your duplicity. But do not
ever think that I will forget.”
He chuckled and peered down his nose at her, defying the pressure of the sword. “I find that ironic,
Angel. You assume you know your father so much when in fact, you know so little. This was your father’s
idea.”
Her eyes rounded and then narrowed. “Liar!”
“Am I?”
She expelled a breath, the sound harsh in the silence of the rain. “I don’t believe you. You lie to get
your way.” The downpour bathed them and dripped from her chin, and a low rattle of thunder
accompanied her words.
“If only that were the case.”
He stared her down. Rain flushed the cut above her eye, the blood running red down the side of her
temple. Minutes passed with no movement or sound before her eyes dropped to his mouth. “There was
once a time when I craved even a simple word from you. But now, my only wish is to wash myself of
your touch.”
Surprise widened his gaze. “I am so revolting to you now?”
“Yes,” she hissed. But her eyes filled with tears, contradicting her words.
“And here I had hope we could pick up right where we left off.” He lifted the corner of his lip to
belie his words.
“And if I remember correctly, I warned you to remove your hands from me,” she said.
A single brow arched over his eye. He did not remove his hands. Instead, he squeezed tighter.
“Before you issue threats, madam, you should make damn certain you are able to back them up.” One of
his hands seized the sword hilt and dragged it away from his neck to the left. “I am neither a young lad,
nor a weak old pirate. You will learn soon enough that it takes more than the tip of your sword to sway
me.”
She leapt backward and lifted the sword in a defensive stance once again. But he kept coming. Her
green-blue eyes widened just enough to reveal her fear. “Yes, be afraid, little one. When you wake the
Serpent, you can expect to be greeted by his fangs.”
She lifted her chin. “I am not afraid of you.”
“You will be.”
She swung at his mid-section and he leapt backward. He rolled then sprang to his feet directly
before her so quickly, she gasped. His vise-like hands clasped the sword, yanked it from her, and tossed
it to the ground in a single move. The weapon clattered to the cobblestones and slid under the broken
debris of the wagon.
He reached for her, but she ducked at the last minute and ran down the street. He chased her, her
speed no match for his longer stride. One of his hands clasped a handful of her hair and he yanked her
back until she fell into him. She came around with a hard right to his jaw. He shook his head, surprised at
her strength. Releasing her hair, his arms apprehended her lithe body. She couldn’t move her upper body
at all but she kicked his shins, managing to get several solid hits in. He winced. But he didn’t let her go.
“Now you can go with me quietly, Angel. Or we can do it your way, fighting the entire way.” He
sighed when she did not cease her struggle. “Either way, I will win,” he whispered into her ear.
She screamed in frustration and gritted her teeth at him. “I hate you, you back-stabbing bastard!”
The slightest stab of pain rippled through him, but he ignored it. His impulsive package would learn
soon enough that he refused to play her games any longer. He’s chased her for two years and now it was
time to pay the piper. Angel may have been able to get away with stealing from the English, but she would
pay dearly for commandeering his ship.
Blac set his jaw, released her long enough to swoop down and lift her onto a shoulder. “So be it.
The hard way it is.” His arms clamped down on her kicking feet and her hands found a solid purchase in
his kidneys. A grunt escaped him.
He carried her all the way to the docks and dropped her unceremoniously into the dinghy, hopping
in behind her. She hadn’t even managed to sit up before he placed a large booted foot over her back and
pushed her down, face first. She cursed.
His crew arrived with her four companions and the commander. “Leave the crew and stow the good
commander in the hold, Mr. Santiago,” he said to Rigo. “I have a message to be delivered to the rest of
Angel’s crew.”
~*~
The sound of church bells seemed almost sacrilegious as they boarded the refitted three-masted
Brig. Eighty feet long and at least twenty-four feet wide, she was long and narrow, with a draught of
thirteen feet. A beauty, to say the least.
Built not only for speed, but the twenty eight-pounders meant if it was caught broadside, it would
stand a better chance than any other small-classed ship.
Angel silently smirked at the ship’s name, “Serpent’s Revenge.” She’d really irked him when she’d
renamed his ship, the Serpent’s Lady. Good, she hoped he’d choked on it. The swine.
Blac ordered her deposited in the captain’s cabin and ordered it to stay locked. The room was
small by any standards. It was cramped but neat. There were few furnishings. She moved across the left
corner of the room and sat upon the double bunk bed laden with multiple brightly colored pillows from
the Indies. She’d always believed she could tell a lot about people by their personal rooms. Her eyes
gazed at her surroundings to see exactly what it said about one Blac Barclay.
At the foot of the bunk, lay a heavy trunk, and she waltzed over to test the lock. It was, of course,
locked. Damned paranoid man. She whipped around and opened the armoire. Everything was arranged
by color and there weren’t many colors to choose from: Black, white, grey and browns.
Blac isn’t one for variety. But he definitely has a knack for organization.
She banged shut the doors and sat on the edge of the ornate claw-footed table surrounded by six
matching chairs in the middle of the floor. The room didn’t tell her much about the man, other than he
preferred order and cleanliness. The only other decorations, save for the pillows, were the heavy damask
velvet curtains at the windows and the bright colored Persian rug on the floor.
If this room said anything about him, it said he was bland and boring. Or perhaps he tried to
suppress a passionate nature with order. Excitement chased her spine every time he neared, so how could
he be bland or boring?
She strode to the far end of the cabin and sat in one of chairs. Maps and charts littered the end of the
table in neat little stacks. Angel fingered the stiff parchment. Blac had been tracking her for months now.
Each red mark indicated where she’d been seen last. She removed the quill and closed the lid of the ink
jar. She found it interesting to think he’d been so doggedly pursuing her all this time. Was it simply guilt?
Or could there possibly be a more interesting reason why he was so intent on catching her?
Her heart twittered in her chest, and she found the idea exhilarating. Half her life she’d followed
this man with love struck eyes. Everyone in the world had known of her infatuation except the man
himself. He’d been clueless. There had been a time when she would have done anything just to get an
ounce of attention from him, and now...those days were over. She’d grown up. He’d f
orced her to see life
as it really was. She and Blac would never have a future. He’d made sure of that the day he’d betrayed
her and her father.
Her gaze rose to the gallery of windows. The sun had just crept over the last hurdle and was well
on its way toward its zenith. She jolted when the ship first moved. They were underway. Where were they
going?
The door swung open and Blac stood there, a triumphant grin on his handsome face.
She gritted her teeth. His arrogance repelled her while at the same time, her childish fantasies
resurfaced, making her want to throw herself into his arms.
“My crew will follow,” she said, determined to conceal her attraction to him.
“I’m counting on it.” He shut the door and crossed the room to the mahogany table secured to the
floor. “So I would make myself comfortable for now and enjoy the...ride.”
Her eyes widened at the remembrance of those words. His dark gaze focused on her, so he
remembered those very same words that day so long ago. She pursed her lips and turned away. “Words
spoken by a girl,” she murmured. “A naïve girl who didn’t understand their meaning.”
“And do you know their meaning now?” His whisper came from directly behind her.
She stiffened. Did he know the effect he still had on her? She had to pretend she didn’t feel the
shock at his nearness, or the heat. Her heart thundered in rhythm to the waves crashing against the hull of
the ship. Why, after his betrayal did he still have this kind of power over her?
She peered at him over her shoulder. “I know their meaning.” She closed her eyes. And never had
those words been truer than now. Never had she wanted that ride he spoke of, more than at this moment.
She’d missed him. More than she cared to admit. Had he missed her at all? She wouldn’t ask. He
would know just how much she’d come to care for him over the years. When she had imagined her future,
it had always been with Blac. And now...he was here, but he wasn’t at her side as she’d hoped he would
be.
She ducked her head, took a deep breath, and then turned to face him. “I had a little girl’s fantasy,
and it’s over,” she lied.
His chin lifted. A bruised ego? Oh, she hoped so. Those grey eyes like hammered metal, pinned her
