“That book . . . it’s fascinating. Anyone would feel the same.”
Teach took a step forward, and she immediately retreated, her legs hitting the bedpost, her eyes meeting his.
“That’s not true. My father has refused to look at it, though I’ve offered to lend it to him. Patience could not be bothered to open it, much less read it. Not even William truly paid attention at the picnic, which was why he left it lying out in the field.”
“Perhaps they’re otherwise occupied—”
Teach waved his hand. “No one is more occupied than you, Anne. Not my father. Not Patience, and definitely not William.”
“Then they have no need for escape,” Anne said, before she could stop herself.
Teach’s eyebrows drew together. “Is that what you wish for?”
Anne could not believe she’d been so careless, and her throat tightened on any response she might have given.
“Would it surprise you to know that I’ve sometimes wished the same thing?” Teach asked. “To leave this place and find out what life would be like on one of those islands Dampier describes so beautifully? Admit it, you’ve dreamt about it too.”
It was pointless to deny it. Teach had an uncanny ability to see through any subterfuge with her. “But they’re only dreams. They aren’t real.”
“They could be. I know you don’t wish to live the rest of your life under my father’s roof.”
This conversation was far too dangerous. Anne searched desperately for a way to change its direction. “Every maid wishes for something greater. Take Sara, for instance. I’m sure she’d like nothing more than to stay home and care for her mother, but she has to work. That’s her reality, as well as mine.”
“But that’s what I’m telling you. I realize you have to work. You’re a maid, but you’re also different, Anne. You must know that not many house servants know how to read, yet you do. I’ve also seen you glance at that gold watch in your pocket when you thought I wasn’t looking, so you must be able to tell time. I’ve never met a maid who possessed such a treasure.”
It was true. Most commoners measured time by the morning and evening church bells, the passage of the sun, or the movement of the tides. Anne’s father had bought the watch on one of his trips to London and had given it to her mother. Before she’d passed away, she’d given it to Anne. It was the only thing remaining from Anne’s previous life. That and her memories.
“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Anne snapped, a guilty flush creeping into her cheeks.
“I never suggested you did. I’m simply pointing out that you are unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.”
“I’m sure Miss Patience knows how to tell time.” Anne threw the words, like a pail of cold water to hit him in the face. They had the desired effect, and he stepped back, his expression masked.
“If that’s all, sir,” she said, taking up the linens and candlestick.
“Leave the linens for tomorrow. It’s late.”
“Yes, sir.” Anne closed the door on her way out. Shaken, she headed to the west wing to start making the beds, disregarding Teach’s instructions. As tired as she was, she knew she would not be able to sleep. Her mind replayed the events of the past few days, as well as Teach’s professed interest.
He wasn’t the only observant one in the household, and Anne could see a battle being waged. He was torn between wanting to please his father and wanting to make his own path.
Master Drummond dictated every aspect of everyone’s life in this house, and Miss Patience was his choice for his son’s bride. It didn’t mean she was Teach’s. It was not a stretch to imagine that Teach would look for any opportunity to rebel. What would be more defiant than having a tryst with someone in his father’s own household?
Not liking the direction of her thoughts, Anne hurried through the rooms, making the beds by the light of the single candle, trying hard not to picture the chamber she had just vacated.
She was halfway through the task when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Extinguishing the flame, Anne peered out through the half-open door, and spied Teach, dressed in a heavy riding cloak and boots, striding toward the back stairs, the candle in his own hands flickering with each step.
Curious, she followed him through the darkened house. Where was he off to at such a late hour? Not eight days ago he’d had a high fever. Now here he was, leaving in the middle of the night? Surely nothing good would come of this.
Tiptoeing down the stairs, she felt her way along the dim interior. In the kitchen all was silent. Margery had obviously taken his advice and retired. There was also no sign of Sara or Mary, and the embers in the fireplace cast an eerie glow about the room.
Anne reached the back door and was about to step out, when Teach came barreling out of the barn astride his black stallion. He flew past her, in the direction of town, the hooves echoing down the drive behind them. A dog barked in the distance, and Anne stayed where she was, staring after him until the sound of his departure faded away.
She could not help her small twinge of envy, or the strong desire to follow him. How she longed to ride into the night like that, with nothing holding her back. But it was as if she had a rope secured around her waist, anchoring her to this house. The only time she was ever allowed to leave was to run errands for Margery in the marketplace.
The closest she would come to freedom at the moment was when she slept, for there were no rules while dreaming.
With a heavy heart Anne climbed the stairs to her room up in the garret. With its slanted roof and crooked floor, it wasn’t much compared to her old bedchamber in her father’s house. She missed the soft bed and pale blue walls.
Her present space was a far cry better than the squalid hovel she’d shared with her mother, but it had come at the cost of her independence.
She’d spent far too much time in Teach’s company the past few days, and needed to get to the city to try to sell some of the items she’d stolen. In less than three weeks the Deliverance would set sail. She saw her opportunity for escape as if it were the sand in an hourglass, and it was running out.
As Anne lay down, she attempted to wipe her mind clean. She was successful for the most part, but when she eventually drifted off to sleep, her last conscious thoughts were of black stallions and sparkling green eyes.
CHAPTER 11
Teach
The sky overhead was an inky black, lit by a sliver of the moon and a thousand sparkling stars. Adjusting the rough plank of wood, Teach slid it across the short gap stretching between the dock and the Deliverance.
She was broad in the beam and powerfully built, and Teach could picture her graceful bow cutting through the choppy waves on the open sea. As he boarded, a chill wind whipped his face, and he took a deep breath of the briny air, unable to prevent the smile on his lips. The boat swayed gently beneath his feet, and Teach stopped to close his eyes, his chest expanding in a moment of pure joy.
The ride through the empty city streets had energized him, for he hadn’t slowed down, as if the very hounds of hell had been at his back. His father often called him reckless, but Teach liked to think he took calculated risks. This life was too short not to approach everything with zeal. His mother’s untimely death had taught him that.
“Don’t move, or you’ll find yourself flat on your arse and my knife in your gut,” someone growled from behind.
The smile on Teach’s lips increased. “Is that any way to talk to a friend, John? Especially since I went to so much trouble to get you this post in the first place,” he said, turning and extending his arm in greeting.
John let out a long breath and clasped Teach’s hand in a crushing grip. John was built like any number of farmers or sailors walking the streets of Bristol, with a broad back and stout legs. And he was the best fighter Teach had ever seen, which was why Teach had written his father and told him about his fr
iend. John had proven to be an excellent night watchman.
“Curse your eyes, Teach, you gave me a start. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” John asked. His light brown hair was long and unruly, just like him. “Is Mary all right?”
“Yes. She’s fine. This has nothing to do with her.” Teach felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if he should tell his friend about the cheating maid. But he wasn’t sure how to do it.
“I was thinking of coming by the house sometime to visit her, but whenever I send word, she says she’s too busy to see me. You’re not working her too hard, are you now?”
“Hardly. Instead of sending word, why not simply stop by and surprise her?” Teach knew it was a terrible suggestion, but perhaps John would then see for himself what kind of girl he was marrying.
John smiled, transforming his formidable face. “I think I will, if I can find the time this week. I’ve missed her something fierce. Now, mind telling me why you’re here?”
Teach walked to the mast and ran his hands along the smooth wood and ropes. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to pay you a visit.”
“You didn’t come to see me.”
“Of course I did. Why do you think I’m here?”
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” John asked, laughing.
“What?” Teach’s head snapped up at John’s words.
“You’re in love with the Deliverance already. Don’t bother denying it. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Teach murmured, his heartbeat returning to normal. He continued along the deck, his footsteps echoing through the night air. “How have you been? Have you had any trouble?”
“Nah, it’s right quiet around here. A bit boring, if you ask me. But down the dock a ways, every once in a while, they get a bit of excitement.”
“Really? How so?”
“Several men show up and empty the belly of a ship.”
“That’s nothing unusual,” Teach said. “These are the docks, after all.”
“Right, but why wait till the middle of the night to unload your cargo?”
Teach shrugged. “Maybe their laborers were delayed. The harbor master still has to inspect the ship.”
“Aye, but it might be easier to hide things in the dark.”
“Do you think they’re hiding something?”
“I think they’re unloading something they don’t want nobody else to notice.”
Intrigued, Teach took a few steps in the direction John had indicated, searching for any sign of movement in the distance. “Have you seen anything tonight?”
“No, nothing. I never know when they’ll come.”
“Do they ever bother you?” Teach asked.
John grinned, his teeth flashing in the dark. “I’d like to see ’em try.”
“Well, let me know if they do. Or if you’d like more help,” Teach said.
“I’ll be fine, but you’re more than welcome to stay for a bit.”
Teach had left the confines of the house hoping to find a distraction from his home life and his impending marriage, as well as a particularly disturbing maid under his father’s roof. Since he’d arrived home, the walls of the estate had seemed to be closing in on him for more than one reason, and he was searching for a way to let loose some of his pent-up frustration.
But since the Deliverance was simply another point of contention with his father, Teach wondered about his decision to come here. Perhaps a tavern would have been a better choice.
“Care to share a pint?” Teach asked. John was a simple, hardworking type, and Teach enjoyed his company. In the past year he and John had become fast friends, much like Teach and William had been at Eton. Both William and John knew of Teach’s struggle to please his father, while at the same time trying to assert himself and make his own decisions, and they were sympathetic to his plight.
But unlike with William, there was nothing about John that annoyed Teach.
“And have your father sack me? No thanks, mate. But drink one for me, will you?”
“Anything for a friend,” Teach said, giving a mock salute and turning to leave.
“Hold on. You can’t go into one of these taverns dressed like that. People might recognize you, and your father would hear about it for sure.” After shrugging out of his jacket and picking up a large, floppy hat from the deck, John walked over and placed the items in Teach’s arms and took Teach’s cloak. Once Teach was back on the dock, John pulled the plank after him, preventing others from surprising him like Teach had.
“Stay out of trouble,” John said with a final wave.
“Always,” Teach replied before striding away.
Walking in the direction John had indicated, Teach scanned the area, but there was no movement at the moment, just the gentle splash of water hitting the stone dock.
Disappointed, Teach followed the unmistakable sound of a rowdy crowd coming from a tavern in the distance. It was several blocks away from the Deliverance but still within sight of the waterfront.
In the gloomy, smoke-filled interior, every corner was packed with lively games of cards, drawing plenty of interest from the raucous crowd, and Teach picked a seat near the back wall, enjoying his anonymity. The fact that nobody could recognize him beneath his disguise was reassuring. The floppy hat pulled down low over his forehead prevented anyone from getting a good look at his face, and the rough jacket John had provided fit in with the rest of the drunken horde.
There was no way Drummond would hear of Teach’s activities, which was another reason Teach had sought out this particular establishment. Drummond would not have been caught dead in a tavern located in this part of town.
Teach, on the other hand, felt quite at home as he sipped an ale, enjoying the atmosphere and the revelry.
“Bring me another pint!” a large blond called out, his bulbous fist waving his mug in the air.
A bolt of recognition shot through Teach, and he looked in the direction of the booming voice. His old nemesis from Eton, Henry Barrett, sat at a table in the far corner. Teach frowned, debating if he should leave or remain where he was. During their years at school, Teach and Henry had come to blows more than once.
A short, ginger-haired companion attempted to wrestle Henry’s bulky arm back down. “Come on, Barrett. You’ve had enough. Concentrate on the game,” he said gruffly, sweat standing out on his brow.
Henry Barrett shook him off, like a giant swatting a fly, and shoved him back so that the small man lost his footing. “I’ll tell you when I’m done,” he bellowed, slamming the mug onto the table.
Someone helped the unlucky fellow to his feet while Henry picked up his cards and the game resumed.
A harassed barmaid struggled through the crowd, a frothy ale in her hands. She was almost to Barrett’s table when she stumbled and fell forward. The drink doused a nearby sailor, who stood up, sputtering. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the spectacle. In that same instant Henry rearranged two cards in the deck, which let Teach know the game was rigged and the cards were textured. Henry had been fingering them, giving the illusion of thorough shuffling, but what he’d really been doing was trying to find the match.
Teach whistled under his breath, not sure if he should be impressed by the boldness of Henry’s actions, for the three other players involved in the game were by no means small. If they discovered Henry’s deceit, Teach was quite sure Henry would leave the premises in a decidedly altered state.
Not that Teach would mind. After all these years Henry still had to resort to deception in order to win a single hand. He was as incompetent as Teach remembered. Teach wasn’t worried about Henry recognizing him, for Henry had already enjoyed his fair share of ale.
If only William were here, Teach thought idly. William would take great pleasure in winning Henry’s ill-gotten gains from him, for William was t
he superior player.
Drawing in a deep breath, Teach pulled John’s coat more closely around his shoulders. After a few more hands were played, the game was over. Barrett reached out his meaty arms and drew the coins toward him. They fell into a drawstring pouch that he shoved into his longcoat.
Pushing back his chair, Henry slipped the cards into his pocket, before staggering toward the door. No one would know that he’d cheated. That didn’t sit well with Teach, so he slipped out the back of the room, through the grease-filled kitchen, ignoring the angry calls of the cook. The stench in the alley nearly choked him. Henry Barrett walked down the middle of the street, his thick legs unsteady beneath his bulk.
Teach longed to settle the score with Barrett, and decided now would be the best time to do it. If fate had led him to the tavern that night, who was he to question it?
Swaying down the dark street, Henry appeared unaware of the stealthy figure following him. Shadows swirled around Teach’s feet, and he clenched his hands, anticipation coursing through him as he thought how to best his opponent.
Luckily for Teach, Henry was the one who presented the opportunity. He approached a park, the outlines of the bushes and shrubbery creating enough cover for Teach to move closer. Henry strolled toward a tree, clearly intent on relieving himself of his countless pints of ale.
While Henry was otherwise engaged, Teach drew forward, picked up a branch lying nearby, and poked the tip into Henry’s back, all in one swift movement.
Turning, Henry scrambled to reach for his weapon.
Teach was too speedy for him. With deft movements he knocked Barrett’s pistol away while at the same time pushing him to the ground.
Teach stood over him, clearly with the advantage. It took considerable effort on his part to refrain from laughing as Barrett looked up at him, fear and shock in his eyes, the smell of urine overpowering the air.
“I will take that purse,” Teach said, flicking the stick in Barrett’s face.
“Bugger off,” Henry snarled. “That’s not even a sword.”
Blackhearts Page 9
