The tension between the two men was like a loaded dueling pistol with a hair trigger temper. Finally, Keldon couldn’t take it anymore. "Why did ye come into my life and ruin all I have ever wanted?” Keldon’s words were sudden, raw and angry. He glared at his adversary, his eyes blazing with unresolved loathing. “Do ye make it a habit to have a man trusts ye? Then go aboot seducin’ his wife?"
“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but at the time I thought I was justified. And no, I don't make it a habit of shagging other men’s wives, but your wife was all too willing.”
Keldon flinched at Nicholas’ words. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but Nicholas wouldn’t let him off so easily.
“Annabelle and I had a goal. I thought we both wanted it. She seemed to abhor you as much as I did and we fed off that hatred. We would have destroyed you, too. We were so bloody close, but something changed. It was almost like Annabelle become another person. You even called her by another name—Arianna. It seemed fitting, I suppose.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Arianna forced me to see you as you really were. As much as I didn’t want to, I couldn’t refute what I witnessed. You weren’t what I expected. You were a man of honor and not the fiend I had conjured up in my mind. I had set out to destroy you, but in the end it was I who had lost."
Keldon’s anger wavered as he tried to comprehend what Sherborn confessed. "Why would ye think ill of me?” He needed to know, wanted to understand.
"Because you stole my security. You took away the only person who meant anything to me, who had cared for me when my parents died. I believed you had blatantly murdered, Captain Richard Hawkins.”
The shock of this discovery hit him full force. "Hawkins was kin to ye?” He shook his head and stared at him in astonishment. "I never meant to kill the man."
"I know and isn’t this the irony of the whole mess.”
Keldon grasped what had driven Nicholas to do the things he did. Maybe he even deserved Nicholas’ hatred, but it didn’t mean he had to forgive him. Nicholas had taken too much. He had taken the woman he loved, destroyed his trust and stripped him of his pride. "Do ye know she is with child?" Keldon asked.
"I know.”
"Is that why ye ran away, then? Ye knew it was yers?” There was a sudden thin chill hanging on the edge of his words.
"Bullocks! I didn't run. I left and there is a bloody big difference between the two. As for the child being mine...” He shrugged. “It doesn't matter. I will not claim it. Arianna wouldn't want me to."
"She doesnae want ye to claim yer own bairn?” Keldon raised his voice at the ridiculous logic Nicholas seemed to possess. "If the bairn is yers that is how it is. Ye cannae be changin’ the fact."
"I bloody well can do as I please. You’re a real wanker aren’t you? You already decided the baby is mine, when in all probability the child she carries is of your blood."
Frustrated, Keldon ran his fingers through his hair and took another swig from the flask. The effect of the alcohol deadened the throbbing pain in his back, but it was failing miserably to dull the pain he felt in his heart. "Tell me this, Sherborn, would ye be able to raise another man's bairn? Would ye be able to hold yer wife, knowin’ she'd betrayed ye with another?"
"I don’t know if I can answer you truthfully, for a man can easily say what he would do when he hasn’t endured the situation himself.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll give you an answer though, if you wish.”
Keldon grudgingly nodded.
“If I loved her enough, I believe I could.”
He was surprised by Nicholas’ answer. Was he being so shallow that he couldn't put the past to rest and move forward? He wasn’t sure. Though he did know, life without Arianna would be like floundering in an agonizing maelstrom of despair. Was his love strong enough to forgive her? Could he learn to trust her again and care for a child who possibly wasn’t his?
He never had the time to answer his own questions. Four men burst through the clearing, their weapons drawn.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
"On your feet," the leader, a man with a thick French accent and long black hair, ordered. Seeing they were surrounded, Nicholas and Keldon had no other choice other than to obey. The men weren’t from The Waterfront. They didn't know if they should be happy over this fact, or if they should be silently saying their prayers. Keldon decided he had no desire to fall prey to another man’s wishes. He didn’t come this far to fail now.
"I can take the two beside me," Keldon whispered. "If ye can handle the other two."
“I was assessing the men myself. I have no wish to be a prisoner.” Letting out a horrendous shout, Nicholas launched his attack.
Keldon didn’t waste any time, either. He threw his punch into the man nearest him, sending him sailing through the air. He immediately connected his fist with the other man’s chin, knocking him unconscious with the first blow. Satisfied he concentrated on the first man he attacked for he was already on his feet, lunging toward him.
In a matter of minutes, the four intruders were lying unconscious at Keldon and Nicholas' feet. Breathing heavily, Keldon collapsed to the ground and Nicholas immediately went over to him. "Brilliant! Your back is bleeding, again."
"Then that accounts for the frightful pain that I be feelin’. Do ye see the flask? I could use a drink aboot now.”
Nicholas searched the ground. Recovering the flask, he handed it to him.
"Are ye hurt?" Keldon said as he glanced at him.
"No, but I could use a drink myself. My nerves are in a jumble.” Keldon passed the flask and Nicholas took a long swallow. "I wondered where these men came from?” Nicholas commented. “Highly unlikely they were out for a late night stroll."
"No. They were not," a deep voice, answered from behind them. Keldon stood and Nicholas closed his hands into a fist, both men were ready to fight again if the need arose. When they faced the new comer, they faced not only one man, but twenty or more emerged behind him.
"Bloody hell!” Nicholas exclaimed.
Keldon’s heart sank. They weren't going to fight their way out of this situation, unless they planned to die in the process.
The tall dark-haired man who held the presence of authority took a step forward. "Do you mind telling me what you two are doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"Just having a quiet drink among friends," Keldon replied. From their dress, he knew the men were pirates. He only hoped that from one pirate to another, he could talk his way into having these men help them, rather than kill them.
The dark-haired man’s eyes narrowed. “My men are in top condition and yet they lay unconscious. How is this possible when you look like you’re on the verge of collapse?” He waved his hand at Keldon.
“They didn’t give us a chance to explain.” Keldon shrugged.
“And I should? You’re wearing British uniforms and I am not fond of them these days.” He turned to the young man standing next to him. “Check the prisoners for weapons.”
The young man stepped forward. He didn’t look old enough to be away from his mother’s apron strings. He searched Nicholas first. When he didn’t find a weapon on him, he approached Keldon. “This one has somethin’ in his shirt.”
“Well see what it is,” the man in charge demanded.
Keldon let the boy remove the kilt from beneath its confinement. “It’s a dress of sorts.” The young man curiously looked at the item he held in his hand.
“It be a kilt, lad,” Keldon corrected.
“Kilt?” The man in charge walked closer to see for himself. He eyed Keldon. “How did you come by this?”
“It is mine, as it was my father’s and his father’s before that. The clothes we wear now were… borrowed.” Keldon swayed, feeling a bit lightheaded.
"Are you ill?” The one in charge gave him a scrutinizing once over.
"Nay ill, but damaged,” Keldon told him. “I have suffered from the hands of the British.” Keldon turned slightly so the man saw that the back of his shir
t was blood soaked from his injuries.
The man understood immediately what had transpired. "Why would they have treated you so unkindly?"
Keldon shrugged. "Mayhap, they dinnae like me plunderin’ their ship."
The dark haired man didn’t say anything at first, but then his handsome face broke into a grin. "The British are quite funny about such acts."
Keldon relaxed. He’d been right to trust his instincts. The man was a pirate.
The dark-haired man became sobered as he glanced at Nicholas. "What of him? He sounded British to me."
Nicholas tensed his eyes glancing uneasily toward Keldon. Keldon looked at him and saw the fear in his eyes. He knew Nicholas thought he was going to betray him. It was tempting, but instead he slapped Nicholas on the back nearly toppling him over.
"Him?" Keldon replied, jovially to the stranger. "Nicholas cannae help who fathered him, but ye have my word—he can be trusted."
"My friend here,” Nicholas flashed him a look of gratitude, "He would never say as much, but he is in dire need of some medical attention."
"Come back with us and I'll have my surgeon look at you.” The man in charge nodded. He then snapped his fingers and ordered a few of his men to collect their unconscious shipmates who were just now beginning to moan their way to consciousness. He then turned his attention back to Keldon. "What name do you go by when you are plundering ships?"
"The Highland Pirate."
The dark-haired man leaned back his head and laughed. "The phantom, I have heard you called. I am Jean Laffite, my friend.”
"Your reputation precedes you.” Keldon bowed, slightly. "It is an honor to have been captured by you."
"And it is an honor to have done so."
"As a friend of the sea,” Keldon said. “I have to give you fair warnin’, the British Captain we spoke of, willnae have taken kindly to my departure. He most likely willnae give up pursuit so easily."
"Not to worry, my ship is well hidden. I assure you, he will be hard pressed to find it."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Vincent carefully read the note Arianna handed him.
"Weel what does it say?" Leighton was too impatient to wait.
"It seems Jean Laffite would like to have an audience with us. He has Keldon, but because of certain circumstances, he is unable to bring him directly here. He states Keldon isn’t well enough to travel. Laffite will be sending someone in a few days to escort us to him."
"Laffite sent the letter?" Leighton asked.
"Not exactly.”
“What do ye mean, not exactly?”
Vincent cleared his throat. “Nicholas Sherborn sent it."
"What kind of fool trick is this?” Leighton’s curt voice lashed out. “Keldon is surely dead then, for his betrayer wouldnae send for us."
"We must go. How can we not?" Vincent leveled his gaze on Leighton.
"If ye go, ye might as weel dig yerself a hole and put yerself in it because that's where ye'll be soon enough.”
Arianna stood and faced Leighton’s wrath. "I'll go to him."
"Ye'll go?” Then Leighton added sarcastically, "Ye mean, ye’ll go to Sherborn. I ken verra weel now what yer plan be."
She ignored his last remark. "I'm going and if it is a trap, Leighton, you'll be able to celebrate my demise."
"That is weel and good, but how do ye plan on gettin' to the meetin' place with nay crew to man the ship?"
"We'll persuade as many of the men as we can," Vincent offered, ignoring Leighton's disapproving frown.
"Miss Arianna.” Thaddeus drew everyone’s attention. "I will go with you and I know dere be others dat will help. Ef you says de word."
"What spell have ye cast, witch?” Leighton looked at Arianna. His lips thinning with anger, his nostrils flaring. "Ye have all the slaves doin' yer whim, when nay long ago they would have spit on the verra ground ye walk on.” He took a menacing step toward her, but Vincent intervened, blocking his path.
"That is enough from you, my friend," he warned gently, but there was no doubt there was a threat beneath the words. "You are unjustly accusing Arianna and I'll not stand for it."
"Ye doonae understand. Ye dinnae live with the witch. Ye ken?"
"You's wrong," Maeve defended Arianna to Leighton. "Dat evil woman you talk of be dead."
"Ye doonae know what ye’re sayin'.” Leighton waved his hand at Arianna as he ranted. “Ye’re all so willin’ to believe that Annabelle has become this Arianna, but I willnae be fooled.”
"I never said I was another person, Leighton.” Arianna moved around Vincent to face him. "I only want you to give me a chance to prove I’ve changed."
"Aye. Ye proved yerself weel enough when ye spread yer legs for Sherborn. I know that wee bairn is his, for ye wouldnae be carryin' it otherwise."
"What is that suppose to mean?" she demanded to know.
"Years before ye dinnae hesitate to rid yerself of Keldon's bairn."
For a second she froze as self-doubt gnawed at her. “You’re lying,” she choked out the words, her face draining of color as her chest tightened. She teetered on her feet and Vincent grabbed a hold of her, supporting her weight. "I wouldn’t.” She spoke in a broken whisper and shook her head. “I would never do such a thing."
"Ye did. Ye have never cared for Keldon. Ye have proved it over and over again."
"Miss Annabelle be de one who done it not Miss Arianna.” Maeve again came to her defense.
Arianna looked at her for confirmation. “Was there another child?"
Maeve hesitated piercing her lips together.
“Maeve, you have to tell me.” She bit her lip until it throbbed like her pulse. She desperately needed Maeve to tell her it wasn’t so, but the spark of hope was quickly extinguished when she witnessed how Maeve’s shoulders sagged.
Maeve nodded. "Yas'm, but it wuz Miss Annabelle's chile not yours.”
Arianna felt like her world was ending as a new anguish seared her heart. How could she have rid herself of her own child? A suffocating sensation tightened her throat. She smothered a sob as she covered her mouth.
Vincent turned to Leighton. "We have heard enough from you, today. If you want to help Keldon, you'll find out how many of the men will go with us."
"Ye plan to go into the trap? After all I’ve told ye.” There was a cynical tone in his voice as he threw up his hands in disgust.
"Oui. I cannot stay here and do nothing. I must go, but that does not mean you have to join us. Thaddeus has already offered his help. We will manage.” Without looking back, Vincent turned his attention to Arianna, ushering her inside the house. He led her to the drawing room and forced her to take a seat. She finally looked up at him. Her eyes pooled and huge tears rolled down her cheeks. "Why are you still here? How can you even want to talk to me after all you’ve heard?"
“You are my friend. No?" he said as he took a seat next to her.
"Yes, but—"
"Shush now. What you have or have not done in the past does not matter to me. I see now a beautiful and kind-hearted woman."
"But all those horrible things I did,” she stammered in bewilderment. “It is no wonder I’ve chosen not to remember them."
"Then keep it that way. Don't cloud your thoughts with what you cannot change."
She lowered her head assaulted by a terrible sense of shame. "What you ask me to do won’t be easy. Everyone hates me and with good reason. I don’t like who I was. How can they forgive me when I don’t think I can forgive myself?"
He gently lifted her chin so she met his gaze. "Often many things we do are not easy to forgive, but you will have to do your best.” He touched his fingertips to the corner of her eyes and wiped away the tears. “Stiff upper lip now, we have to make ready to sail.”
She nodded and swallowed an upsurge of sobs.
****
Bernadette and Vincent waited for Arianna outside in the carriage, but after twenty minutes and she still hadn’t emerged from the house, they began to w
orry.
“I’ll check on her,” Bernadette offered.
“Oui, please do so. I don’t want to rush her, but the day is dwindling.
Already Laffite’s man waits for us.”
Bernadette found Arianna in the study. She was lovely in her light blue dress with darker blue ribbons to match. She wore her hair in a mass of curls over her forehead and ears and the longer tresses drawn up into a loose bun. She sat behind the desk, staring at something in her hand. “Arianna?” Bernadette approached, realizing she was crying again. “Are you all right?”
Arianna looked up, wiping away the tears that were only replaced by others. Arianna knew she needed to pull it together and move on, but what she found in her husband’s desk had devastated her.
She wiped her eyes again, took a deep breath and met Bernadette’s worried gaze. “We better go.” Without explaining, she folded the papers and put them in her dress pocket.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
They set sail for Lafitte’s home in the bayous near New Orleans with forty-nine men, half of which were recruited by Thaddeus. Leighton at the last moment decided to join them, mumbling obscenities under his breath of how he must have lost his mind to join them on the voyage of doom.
The ship needed a new name after its complete overhaul. She was christened for what they all needed right now, Hope.
Weather held and they made good time.
Nicholas Sherborn spotted the ship on the horizon and came to greet them as they docked.
He was shocked Arianna was among the able seamen, though he shouldn’t have been. With her courage and determination, he could see her manning the ship herself if she were forced to do so. Not one person of the former crew gave him a kind glance and he appreciated Arianna greeting him with a wave of her hand.
"You seem to be faring well.” Nicholas addressed Arianna as his gaze lingered for only a moment on her swelling midsection.
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