by ML Guida
“No,” she cried and sank to her knees.
Kane stepped out of the sugarcane field. Hannah had tried to save the poor man. Her strength never failed to please Kane. Her shoulders shook and she hung her head. He wanted to run down there and pull her into his arms, erase the new terror haunting her. Damn D’Aubigne.
Michael hurried next to him. “What the hell are you going to do?” He grabbed his arm. “You’ve got to stay here.”
“I’ve had enough.” Kane raised his pistol.
“Aye,” Sean agreed. “Kill the man.”
Hannah would not see a man slowly burn alive. The slave howled and run around the dirt courtyard like a headless chicken. Burnt flesh assailed Kane’s nostrils, his eyes water. He aimed at the shrieking man, following him as he ran. Children’s cries and women’s sobs turned his stomach. What the hell was wrong with Jacques? And William accused Kane of being a monster.
The slave stopped running and swayed. Kane fired. Blood sprayed the stark ground.
“Mon Dieu,” Jacques yelled.
“Over there,” a man pointed. “’Tis three men.”
Hannah whirled around. “Kane!”
“O’Brien,” Jacques snarled. “Get him, you fools.”
Jacques’ men sprinted towards them, drew out their pistols and fired. Smoke and pellets whizzed past Kane. Sean and Michael pulled out their pistols and returned fire. Billowing smoke filled the courtyard. More men, firing pistols and waving swords, rushed down from the house like angry wasps.
Hannah stood. Jacques reached for her, but she jerked away from him and stumbled. She grabbed her skirt, hitched it to her knees, and raced towards Kane.
“Come back here,” Jacques yelled.
“Hannah, no,” her father cried.
Biting her lip and eagerness in her eyes, Hannah rushed towards Kane.
Kane’s heart pounded. What was the lassie doing? She could be killed.
Jacques ran after Hannah. His men fired again, hitting Kane in the shoulder. He gritted his teeth, against the pain gripping him.
“No,” she cried. “Stop.”
Jacques gained on her and raised his fist.
“Hannah!” Kane sucked in his breath. Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he aimed his pistol at Jacques, but Hannah blocked his shot. “Move, lass!”
Jacques seized Hannah’s hair and his fist slammed into her temple. She crumbled to the ground.
Kane roared and rushed towards her. Michael and Sean each grabbed his arm. His right shoulder screamed with pain.
“Capt’n,” Michael yelled. “We’ve got to go now.”
“Hannah, she’s hurt.” Kane struggled to break free. ’Twas his fault she was hurt. He should have kidnapped her, her father be damned. “Let me go. That’s an order.”
“Sorry, Capt’n. We can’t help her. Now isn’t the time,” Sean said. He and Michael tightened their grip and dragged him into the sugarcane field. The stalks towered over them. Long cane leaves whipped his face and blocked his view of Hannah, Jacques and his men.
Angry voices got closer.
“Burn the field,” Jacques ordered.
“Jacques, you fool,” Hannah’s father said.
“No one takes what’s mine,” Jacques snapped.
His? Hannah would never be Jacques’.
Heat broke out around him and smoke clouded Kane’s eyes. Each time, he took a step, his heart pumped hard, pain thumping into his shoulder. Sean and Michael led him through the field, the fire chasing them. His men waited for them on the other side. If Jacques’ men followed, they’d discover an ugly surprise.
Jacques had one more coming. A vampire would visit him, repaying the same kindness he’d done to Hannah.
Chapter Twenty
Hannah woke to the sun shining down in her bedroom and a pounding headache. Her shift stuck to her body. She moved and a splitting pain shot through the back of her head.
“You’ve got a nasty bump on da back of your head,” Bertha said.
Hannah peered at her. “What happened?”
Bertha frowned. “Da masta. He hit you, knocking you out.”
“Which master?”
“Masta Jacques.”
Hannah edged up to sit, gritting her teeth as pain throbbed in the back of her head. The bastard. Next time she saw Jacques, she’d hit him over the head with an anchor. “How did I get here?”
“Your father brought you back. Masta D’Aubigne came with him, too. He carried you to your room. Gawd, was he angry about da man who killed Simone. Simone was to be an example.”
Hannah gritted her teeth. She’d make Jacques an example. He was a barbarian. She’d rather be thrown in the stockade than marry him.
Heart pounding, she grabbed the quilt and flicked it over to the side. She had to find Kane. Hannah stood. “Bertha, the man who shot Simone, where’s he? What happened to him?”
Hannah swayed on her feet and put her hand on her sweating forehead. Bertha grabbed Hannah’s arm, her hands trembling, and maneuvered her back on to the bed. “No, miss, you must stay in bed. Da doctor came and said you must rest. He said you’d be fine in a couple of days. Please, miss. Your pa said you had to stay here.”
Hannah studied her. “Did my father hurt you?”
“No,” Bertha shook her head. “But Masta Jacques he says I’s supposed to watch over you.”
Hannah grabbed Bertha’s trembling arm. “What happened to Kane?”
“I don’t know. Masta says they can’t find him. They’re hunting him.”
Hannah dropped her hand. “He got away?”
“Yes, miss. Do you know him?”
She smiled. “Yes, I do.” Kane had followed her to Jacques’ plantation. It must mean something. She ached to feel his lips on hers again, to feel his kisses along her skin to have his arms wrapped around her, calming her fears. Where was he? Was the Soaring Phoenix hunting the Fiery Damsel?
Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall. “Hannah, are you awake?”
She grimaced. Just what she wanted.
The door whipped open. Bertha scurried from the room.
Her father swept in and put his hands on his hips. “You freed Simone, didn’t you?”
She tilted her chin. “Yes, I did. Someone had to.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “You better not be in an alliance with that pirate.” His scowl promising he was about to tie her to the stakes for a harsh lesson.
“How could I be? I’ve not seen him since I have come to this island.”
“People are asking questions.” His eyebrows drawn together, he paced back and forth. “You’ve got to be careful.”
“What people?”
He ran his shaking hand through his hair. “Jacques for one. He can’t figure out how this happened. He’s so damn angry.”
“Then you should not be forcing me to marry him.”
He shook her. “’Tis too late for that.”
Pain shot through the back of her head. She whispered, “Father, please.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He slowly released her, his hands slid down her arms.
He sank into the bedside chair and put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. “Jacques is obsessed, Hannah. I fear I can’t control him. He accuses me of betraying him, suspects you of plotting to run away with O’Brien and insists the engagement be moved up.”
“What do you mean, move up the engagement?”
He sighed and lifted his head. “To show our good faith, we’ll be hosting a ball tomorrow night where we’ll announce your engagement.”
“No!”
He glanced at her. “You don’t have a choice nor do I.”
“What do you mean you don’t have a choice?”
He patted her leg and bit his lip. “Hannah, if you don’t marry him, he’ll seize the Emerald Sea.”
“And you’ll be handed over to your debtors?”
“Yes. The Emerald Sea is what’s been supporting us. Without it, I’ll be forced to sell ou
r assets and we’ll end up in a debtor’s prison. Do you want this?”
Hannah gripped her fists. “Either way, I’m being forced to pay for your sin.”
“I’m sorry, daughter, but with Jacques, you’ll want for nothing.”
She scoffed. “You keep saying this.”
He reached over and she flinched, waiting for him to hurt her. Instead, he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “If there was another way, Hannah, I’d save you from this.”
“Father, Kane could help us.”
He dropped his hand. “Hannah, he’s a wanted man. A pirate. Even if you left with him, Jacques would pursue you. Do you want to send the Soaring Phoenix to a watery grave and her crew hanging from the gallows?”
“You’re assuming Kane would lose.”
He snatched her hand and squeezed. “Jacques is a deadly opponent. His ally is the Fiery Damsel.”
Hannah sucked in her breath. “You mean?”
“Kane would have to face two opponents. Do you think he could survive this?”
Hannah swallowed. The Fiery Damsel had almost sunk the Soaring Phoenix in Tortuga. Could Kane defeat two ships?
Her father gave her hand one more squeeze. “I am sorry, Hannah.”
A single tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry, too.”
The ball arrived too soon and the hours ticked by too quickly. Madame Blanc delivered a burgundy gown with a straight neckline, puffy sleeves, and a tight bodice that hugged Hannah’s trim figure. She tried to smile. “You’re truly talented, Madame.”
“Thank you, Mademoiselle. Oh by the way, your fiancé ordered your wedding gown. I should have it ready for you by the end of next week. Could you come by to be fitted?”
Hannah answered in a sweet voice, hiding the volcano brewing inside her. “Yes, that will be fine.”
She wanted to run away and find Kane. But if she did, Jacques would have her father thrown in jail. How could she do this? True, he deserved to be punished, but she couldn’t live with herself for sending him there.
Soldiers reported to her uncle about their progress in hunting for Kane. Thankfully, they’d been unsuccessful. Had Kane retreated to the cove and left? Cowardice wasn’t one of his characteristics. What was he up to? He’d have ordered his men to stay aboard his ship out of harms away.
He needed to get away from here and forget about her. He’d need all of his skill to defeat the Fiery Damsel. But how could he if Jacques was in league with them? Jacques swore he wasn’t a vampire. What if he lied?
After Madame Blanc left, servants hauled in a large copper tub and filled it with hot steaming water and lavender. Bertha burst into the room and shooed the servants away. She held a velvet box in her hand. “Mistress, this was sent from Masta Jacques.”
Hannah bristled. She didn’t want any gifts from the man, but what choice did she have? She opened it. A ruby pendant and matching earrings glittered in the light.
“Masta be taken with you to send these over to you,” Bertha said.
“Yes, they’re beautiful,” Hannah answered. So, did he think this made up for what he did to Simone? Or was he buying her?
If she wore the rubies, was she giving in? Being another one of those women who put up with men as long as they bought them pretty trinkets? Not the life she wanted. But maybe, along with the emeralds, the rubies would come in handy.
Within minutes, Hannah finished her bath. Bertha picked out a corset and handed it to her. Hannah shook her head. “I’m not wearing that.”
Bertha held a corset in her hand. “Mistress, you need to wear a corset.”
Hannah tilted her chin. “No, means no.”
Bertha clicked her tongue, but put the corset away. She helped Hannah slip into the burgundy gown and pulled her hair into a coiffure. Hannah would rather wear it loose since Kane preferred it loose, but in this too she gave in. Kane was gone and she needed to focus on surviving this without him.
Bertha clasped the ruby necklace around her neck and Hannah stared at her preened reflection. She was the image of any woman of society, a society she didn’t want. She’d be mistress of Jacques’ plantation, expected to run it the way he wanted it and be forced to endure the man’s touch. Her freedom slipped away and a noose tightened around her neck.
“Oh, Mistress, you look beautiful,” Bertha said.
Hannah feigned a smile. “Thank you, Bertha. I appreciate it.”
Bertha curtsied. “You welcome, Mistress.”
Someone rapped at the door. Hannah cringed. Time’s up. Bertha opened the door and Mary entered. “Your fiancé is here, Mistress. He’s waitin’ for you below.”
Hannah nodded. “I’ll be down in a minute. Bertha, would you excuse me for a minute?”
“Yasum, Mistress.” Bertha shut the door quietly.
Hannah retrieved the dagger from underneath the mattress, stuck it in her garter and patted her thigh. She might be forced to marry Jacques, but she’d be damned if she’d play the part of a battered wife. He’d get more than he bargained.
At the foot of the stairs, Jacques stood dressed in the latest male fashions—a black waistcoat with pearl buttons, a silk white ruffled shirt and snug black breeches. She wasn’t impressed. His pretty package masked the devil within.
She forced a tight smile on her lips. When he extended his hand, she reluctantly clasped it. He kissed her wrist and her stomach revolted. How was she going to get through this?
He took a step back and his eyes flashed over her. “Ma chere, tu es très jolie!”
“Merci, Monsieur,” she murmured. She clutched the folds of her dress to keep from slapping him. Did he think he was buying her? Was she worth his precious coin?
He stuck her arm through his and escorted her to the ballroom where he introduced her to the dignitaries. Her interests piqued when he introduced her to a gray-haired admiral with a thick mustache and oversized belly. “Admiral Parkington,” she asked, “have you heard from Captain Keats? Any reports?”
Admiral Parkington shook his head. “No, I’ve not.” He slapped one heavy thigh. “I was unable to sail with my men because of this cursed knee. Sometimes I cannot even stand on it in the morning due to an old battle injury. Based here, because the king didn’t think there would be much action or maybe he sent me into exile. One can never tell.”
He turned to a thin blonde girl, dressed in a rose lacey taffeta gown with a very low neckline, and a heavy set blonde woman wearing a green silk gown one size too small. “Hannah, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Emily, and my wife, Mrs. Helen Parkington.”
“’Tis nice to meet you both,” Hannah said.
Jacques bowed. “Hannah, may I have this dance?” Before she could answer, he grabbed her hand and whisked her out onto the dance floor. He crushed her to him and she gasped for air, but only inhaled his noxious perfume. Her stomach swirled. Maybe she’d not have to feign being ill.
“Hannah, you’re exquisite.”
“Jacques, you’re holding me too close.”
“You’re trembling, ma chere,” he said. “Soon you’ll beg for my touch.”
She’d rather be hanged than have him caress her skin.
After the waltz, he returned her to the admiral. She sighed with relief and broke free of Jacques’s firm hands. He scowled, but changed his expression and smiled demurely. “Ladies, would you like some refreshments?”
Both Emily and Mrs. Parkington nodded but Hannah declined. He bowed, “If you’ll excuse me.” He clasped Hannah’s hand, bent and kissed her wrist. She yanked her hand away and wiped her wet wrist on her gown. Her other hand moved over the dagger under her dress. She wanted to fling the dagger into his broad back.
As he walked away, Emily clasped her hands together. “Oh, Hannah, he’s divine! I think he’s so handsome!” She looked around and lowered her voice. “I heard he used to be a pirate!”
“Emily,” her mother scolded. “’Tis not ladylike to spread gossip. I’m sure he was a merchant sailor and not a pirate. I
do apologize, Hannah.”
Emily blushed. Hannah squeezed Emily’s arm. “No apology’s necessary, Mrs. Parkington. I’ve heard similar rumors, as well.”
Emily gave her a grateful smile. A young Navy sailor asked Emily to dance and her eyes sparkled.
Jacques returned with two cups of punch. He leaned over to give her the punch and his gaze fell between her breasts. She wanted to snatch one of the cups and throw it in his face. He handed one to Mrs. Parkington who thanked him. “Hannah?”
“I don’t want anything, thank you.”
He placed the punch on a nearby table. The orchestra began to play and he clasped her hand. “Shall we?” Once again, he refused to give her a chance to answer and whirled her out onto the dance floor. As before, he held her too close. She had to get away from him.
“Um, Jacques, I feel dizzy.”
He gently clasped her chin and peered into her eyes. “Maybe you need something to eat, ma chere.”
“No I think I just need to rest for a minute.”
“Well, I suppose…”
Her father made his way to the orchestra and motioned for them to stop. She tensed as the room fell silent. The noose tightened around her throat, choking her.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” her father said, his voice booming over the crowd. “Welcome to the Governor’s Ball. I’d like to thank our host, my brother, Governor Michael Knight.” The guests clapped as her uncle bowed to them. He nodded towards Hannah and Jacques. “I’d also like to announce the engagement of my daughter, Miss Hannah Knight, to Monsieur Jacques D’Aubigne.”
At the guests’ applause, Hannah curtsied, but she gazed at the double doors leading to the terrace. With a quick dash, she’d be out of here. Like a dutiful daughter, she smiled.
Jacques bowed, smiling triumphantly. She wanted to dump the punch bowl over his head.
As she made her way for an escape, Mrs. Parkington blocked her and patted her arm. “You’re so lucky, my dear. Many of these girls had their sights on him, and he left nothing but broken hearts.”
“Oh, I just find myself so lucky,” she grumbled. Mrs. Parkington gave her a surprised look, but Hannah couldn’t have cared less. Her patience had run out.
