by Unknown
“M’lady? Sir Brody?” a small voice cut through the door and through her curse. “I have your meal.”
Dory shut her sweet lips but continued the cutting glare. She pointed at each one of them as if she held a broadsword. “Do not scare Tilly,” she whispered. “Coming,” she yelled without turning her head. “Thank the good Lord, we’ve made it to breakfast and no one’s dead yet.”
Captain Bart lowered his dagger and Will apparently thought it safe enough to go stand by his leader.
Tilly brought in a large tray with several covered dishes. She stopped suddenly at the sight of the two pirates. Will smiled at her and she blushed. Bloody hell! Was that a giggle? The man didn’t need any more encouragement to cajole a lass. Ewan walked over and took the tray so she could leave.
“Thank ye,” he said and slid a coin into her hand.
Will tore off a chunk of bread and grabbed a drumstick. He tossed a small apple to Captain Bart, who caught it in the air and bit into it without hesitation. How long had it been since they’d eaten?
Dory stood in the middle of the room. “Good, your mouths will be too full to get you into more trouble.” Then she looked at Ewan. “And you, not a word.”
Ewan crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t used to being ordered by a female and wasn’t promising anything. Dory took his silence as acceptance. She began to pace between them all.
“Now what to do,” she mumbled.
“Easy, girl,” Captain Bart said between swallows. “We’ll leave at dark. The Queen Siren can’t be far off. They knew you were coming for us.” He gave her a stern look. “Though you shouldn’t have.”
She glanced toward Ewan but then back at her father. “I couldn’t leave you in the Tower, not when you were there because of me.” Her voice had dropped to an almost whisper.
Captain Bart walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. He looked her straight in the eyes. “I’ve saved so many little girls in my lifetime, of course I was going to save my own.”
Ewan couldn’t see her face, but from the relaxing of her shoulders, he’d bet her eyes glistened. Saving little girls? Did pirates usually save little girls? The captain grinned and wiped her cheek. Hell, had there been a tear?
“I’ve lived a good life, Panda. If my last days were spent in the Tower to save you, so be it. Things have worked out, but I’m mad as a poked shark that you almost made my surrender be in vain with your stunt in the jailhouse.”
“I had to get you out,” she said.
“Like I said, I’ll be meeting Davy Jones soon enough.”
“Not with me helping you.”
“O’Neil will get me someday. He’s getting smarter and I’m getting slower.”
“But Will—” she started.
“Is a half-wit,” Captain Bart finished.
“Amen,” Ewan said, and Will cursed.
Captain Bart ignored them. “He wasn’t supposed to jump into the fight with me.”
“I was helping Dory get away,” he said indignantly.
“I was handling it,” Captain Bart said. “And I didn’t have a young life to throw away.”
“I knew she’d save us if we got in trouble,” Will said.
Ewan turned on him. “You wanted Dory to put her life in danger to come save yer foolish arse?”
“No!” He thought for a moment and grinned at Dory. “I just knew she would.”
Ewan ran one hand down his face. The intrigue was so thick around them that they could choke on it, yet the arse could grin and banter about Dory putting her life at risk. Ewan’s hands fisted. They needed a clear cut plan.
“We will eat our fill,” Captain Bart said as if issuing orders on deck. “Change into decent clothes, borrow some horses, and escape after midnight.” He took Dory’s arm and strode in a circle about the room as if surveying the waters that kept his ship afloat, then kissed her knuckles. “We will be back on the Queen Siren within the fortnight, England far behind us.”
Escape? Dory would go with them? Bloody hell! Och, if she wanted to go… hell, she should go. Then she’d be safe from Henry’s wrath for losing the pirates without finding a traitor. Aye, she should go.
“Good,” Dory said and Ewan’s stomach clenched. “I need the box, my box, from your cabin.”
She’d mentioned a box before when he’d discovered her name, but he hadn’t thought to question her about it. “Och,” Ewan broke his silence. “Pandora’s Box?”
Captain Bart stopped in his pacing and looked at Ewan with a grin. “When the name her mama chose didn’t suit her at all, I renamed her.” He shrugged. “It fit.”
“What’s in the box?” Ewan asked.
“A ring and a letter,” Captain Bart said.
“Another ring?” Ewan looked at Dory.
“I haven’t seen it, either,” Dory said as if it was a contention between the two. “But there might be some information gained to help us find the king’s traitor.”
“What’s in the letter?” Ewan asked.
Captain Bart shook his head. “I’m not the best reader anyway, and I figured it was private. I never unlocked the box after Katharine locked it.”
“But you saw the ring. What does it look like?” Ewan asked. If Katharine had taken the ring from the third traitor, it could look like Boswell’s ring. Perhaps the letter said who it belonged to.
The man scratched his forehead. “A rose etched into it. Gold, I think. I didn’t get a good look at it. She had it hidden and only brought it out to lock up.”
Ewan’s stomach tightened and he caught Dory’s eye. “Is the rose white?” Could Katharine have been a secret Yorkist, one half of the feuding Plantagenet families who caused civil war in the time of Henry’s father? Even though the years of Tudor rule had lessened the threat, Henry was still very suspicious of any whisper of threat to his throne.
Captain Bart shook his head. “Just gold from what I remember.”
“We need to get it,” Dory said, her gaze lingering on Ewan. He hated to see her look so worried, but any other emotion would have been a mask, of which she had plenty.
“You will have it when we return to the Queen Siren,” Captain Bart said and patted her arm. “You are plenty old enough now to protect yourself from your past. That was your mother’s demand, that you not get the box until you were grown. You have survival skills now.”
Will snorted around a bite of bread. “I’d say.”
“I need you to send the box to me,” Dory said slowly, “here.”
“Here?” Captain Bart asked. Ewan watched Dory try to slide her arm out of the man’s grasp, but he held fast.
She shook her head. “I will be here, helping Ewan find the traitor and clearing my mother’s name.”
Will strode over to her. “You’ll be going with us.”
“I won’t leave Ewan,” she said and blushed. “I mean, he’s basically condemned himself if we leave and he can’t produce the traitor for Henry’s wrath. He agreed to it to get you released.”
Will shrugged. “He can leave, too.”
“Then English troops will attack Druim,” Ewan said evenly, his arms crossed. “I represent the Macbains so the Macbains will be considered traitors. I will find the true traitor or take his place on Tower Hill. It will end here.”
“So be it,” Will said.
Dory punched his shoulder. “Not ‘so be it,’” she imitated. “If we don’t find the traitor, Henry could be killed, causing civil war.”
“He’s just a man,” Captain Bart said. “If he dies, he dies. War will decide the next leader of this country.”
“Children will be killed in a war,” Dory said and watched her father closely, but the man gave nothing away. “And if Henry decides to attack Ewan’s home, children there will be killed, too, because I decided to run away.”
Her father stood for a long moment in thought, his strong features tired, drained. Finally he shook his head. “I’m sorry, girl, but I won’t have you dying here because you came to get me
out.” He glanced at Ewan. “I don’t think you’d have her die here, either, would you?”
“It’s not up to him,” Dory blurted out. “I gave Henry my oath that I’d find the traitor. To free you two, I promised.” Her eyebrows rose and she threw her hands wide, palms up. “My oath, on my honor.”
“Now why the damnation would you swear on your honor, you bird-brained dim-wit?” Will yelled.
Ewan watched the drama unfold before him. She was lying. She’d brought up the idea, but he’d been the one to make deals with Henry, not her.
“The king had to know I was serious,” Dory defended though she turned a scarlet shade.
“And you let her do this?” Captain Bart asked Ewan.
Ewan blinked, not sure what to say. Dory seemed to hold her breath. He was playing this game blind. “Have ye ever tried to stop her from doing something she’s bent on doing?”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t an answer, either.
Captain Bart grunted as if it was answer enough for him. “Well the king doesn’t know what it means for us to swear on our honor, Panda,” Captain Bart said. “You’ll come back with us and no one will know.”
“I will know,” Dory said. “Will and you will know.” She shook her head. “I must fulfill my oath to find this traitor to the English crown.”
“Fine,” Will said, “we’ll cut your foolish ears and then you can heal them back.”
Dory’s fingers fiddled with her little ear lobe. Ears? Finally some explanation. Ewan studied the long-haired pirate. He could barely make out the man’s ears hidden in the dirty hair. They looked misshapen. Captain Bart had deep groves in his one ear as if it had been sliced and made to heal apart.
“It would be cheating if I healed them,” she whispered. “You won’t let me heal the rest of the crew when they bleed out their dishonor.”
“What the bloody hell are you all talking about?”
“’Tis ship’s business,” Will said. “None of yours.”
“Dory is my business, every little bit of her. And none of her will be bleeding.”
Everyone stared at him. What? It was bloody true! There would be no bleeding of Dory.
“Since when is—” Will stopped when Captain Bart held up a hand. Bloody amazing! The fool could be trained.
“When someone on board the Queen Siren breaks their oath, they must pay with their blood,” Captain Bart explained slowly. “Their oaths keep my crew honorable and focused on our mission. But when they break one, they lose part of their ear.”
Och! Dory had been raised by men who’d been baking in the sun too long.
“It doesn’t matter,” Dory huffed, “because I am staying here with…” She seemed to have lost her words. “To find this traitor because I gave the king my oath that I would. I need my box because I think my mother left me something in it that might lead us to whomever she was working with besides my father by blood.”
“Did you meet the man?” Captain Bart asked with a surly frown.
“He’s dead and stinking up the stables,” she said.
“Is that what that smell is?” Will asked. “I thought it was where the Scots go to shite.”
The man really needed another broken nose.
Captain Bart studied her. “I’m sorry, girl, that he’s dead.”
If the man had known Rowland Boswell, he wouldn’t be sorry. But since the devil was dead there was no sense in making Dory feel worse about being his offspring. Ewan had a lifetime of embarrassment over his own family.
Dory nodded and Captain Bart scratched his face. “I suppose it is important to you to prove your mama was not a traitor, too. I’ll get your box and send it back.”
Dory smiled widely and gave him a huge hug.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Your baths,” Dory said and nearly skipped to the door, relief evident in her smooth features. Two wooden tubs were carried in, along with several buckets of water, two of which were in iron pots and placed over the fire to heat.
“You’re going to love this warm bath, Captain,” Dory said with a smile.
Will ripped Ewan’s shirt off over his head.
“Dory and I have… plans to make,” Ewan said and caught her arm. “And if she’s found in here with two naked men, the whole court will gossip.” He led her to the door to follow the men out who had brought the water.
Captain Bart strode after them. “Don’t get into trouble, Panda,” he said as she went out in front of Ewan. Just before he could follow her into the corridor, her father slapped a solid hand on the door, shutting Ewan in.
Chapter Nine
27 February of the Year our Lord God, 1518
Dearest Kat,
I write every month. Are you not receiving my letters? I’ve said over and over that I love you and don’t care that you were wed to another. I, too, am in a tiresome marriage. One day we will be free to love and rule together in the open.
Forever yours,
Rowland
Ewan turned to the commandeering pirate leader as the man started to talk.
“My Pandora is smart.” Captain Bart was so close Ewan could see his nostrils flaring. He wouldn’t be surprised to feel the man’s blade in his kidney. Captain Bart’s breath spit out on a whispered growl. “She wouldn’t give her oath to the king, especially when he’d have no idea what it meant.”
The man’s gaze searched Ewan’s, but Ewan didn’t say a thing. In the hall Dory banged on the door.
“So either my daughter has suddenly lost her sense or she’s lied to me in order to stay here.”
“The lass wants to clear her mother’s name,” Ewan replied.
“Open up!” Dory yelled.
“Or my Panda wants to stay with you,” Captain Bart continued, watching every part of Ewan’s face as if he could detect a lie. “If you stole my Panda’s heart, I’ll be cutting off more than your damned ears.”
“If you’re gutting Ewan, there will be hell to pay and I won’t be helping you afterward,” she said through the door.
“Do you understand?” Captain Bart asked.
“I believe, sir, that I do,” Ewan answered and the man’s weathered hand slid from the door. Dory fell inward, landing against Ewan. She righted herself, though her wild curls still swam around her face. She stared at Ewan for a brief second and nodded. Apparently she’d ascertained that he had not been gutted.
She turned her frown on her father. “What did you say to him?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Just making sure he’s respecting my Panda.”
Dory’s sharp gaze moved between them and she gave a little snort. “Whatever threats you give him, you can do in front of me.”
Captain Bart nodded, but from her frown it was clear she suspected that his nod was to placate her instead of offering agreement.
After a long pause she turned. “Well then, we’ll leave you two to your baths. Ewan and I,” she said looping her arm through his, “were about to take a walk in the gardens.” She pulled him along with her out the door this time and he let her.
Ewan kept up with her brisk pace, letting her calm down. He didn’t say anything until they reached the door that led to one of the gardens. “Captain Bart. He loves ye a lot.” What would his life have been like with a father like that?
“He doesn’t trust anyone around me.”
“Sounds like a doting father.”
“I suppose so, but most doting fathers don’t carry daggers and cutlasses.”
Ewan shrugged. “Actually, in the Highlands they carry daggers and broadswords.”
A gentle grin turned up the corners of her soft, pink lips. “Perhaps Highlanders are a bit like pirates.”
“I’m starting to see the similarity.”
Voices down the corridor prompted Ewan to lead her out the arched doorway into a sunken garden. The rain had left, and the sun caught the brilliance of the drops on the roses and tulips. The breeze was cool and tousled her hair so that she caught it in one h
and to tame it.
“Ye don’t have a wrap.”
“I’ll make do. I need some air.”
They walked along the gravel path that twined through hedges and under trellises with climbing purple flowers.
“They’re beautiful.” She stopped to lean into a fragrant rose bush. The reddish hue of the petals matched her lips perfectly, and she brushed the top to her nose. Only the rise of her chest against the fabric of her bodice showed her deep inhale. “Aren’t they?”
He realized that she was looking up at him, expecting him to answer, though he had no idea what she was asking.
“The roses,” she prompted, “are lovely.”
“Aye.” He held her gaze. “Beautiful beyond any I’ve ever met before.”
She hastened along the path to a bench under an arched canopy of those purple flowers and tucked at a tie on one of her sleeves. Was he making her nervous? The woman could trick her way past guards at the Tower of London yet a simple compliment sent her running.
Herbs grew in raised beds, adding to the fragrant air. She sat and fooled with her skirts. He picked a flower from the vine and tucked it into her hair near her ear. She almost flinched away, but let him. He sat next to her, his thigh riding alongside hers on the narrow bench. The winds rustled the tulip heads, bending them about like synchronized dancers. Was he making her that nervous? The thought was…tantalizing.
“Dory.”
“What?” she answered quickly. The way she nibbled on her bottom lip seemed so anxious. Now this he knew how to deal with, an anxious lass who needed coaxing. The kisses they’d shared before sparked many possibilities. His blood heated as he considered some of the more adventurous ones.
He wrapped his large hand around her small one, letting the weight of it rest in the folds of her skirt. Her gaze darted from his like a frightened doe in the woods.
“Ye lass, are utterly beautiful.” And he meant it, watching her there with the sun streaking between leaves climbing the trellis. Her breathing quickened like he knew it would. Did she know she was being stalked by a skilled hunter?
He’d learned the art of wooing and coaxing at a very early age, after he learned that laughter and smiles stopped people from asking him how he was faring. He’d perfected the dance to win a kiss. Some said he used battle tactics. True, the lunge and deflect dance of battle could be viewed as similar to the dance of love, but a lass required more finesse.
