The Reckoning (Legacy of the King's Pirates)

by Marylu Tyndall

  Her brow wrinkled as she glanced over Gabrielle, Charlisse, and Merrick with more affection than he thought possible for having known them for so short a time. His heart started to crumble.

  But then she turned to him with that sassy look of hers. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, pirate."

  He found his smile again.

  The boat thudded against the hull, and one of Merrick's men tossed a rope ladder over the side.

  "We will miss you." Charlisse and Gabrielle took Morgan's hands.

  She leaned toward them and whispered, "Rowan needs me." But the wind carried her words to him. Instead of stabbing his pride, as they would have done to most men who bragged of needing no woman's help, they nestled deep into his heart.

  Charlisse gave her an understanding look and leaned to whisper something in her ear that made Morgan laugh. Then she clutched Morgan's shoulders. "Remember what God has done for you."

  God? Lud. Had these people befuddled Morgan's brain with their pious nonsense?

  "How could I ever forget? Thank you for everything." Morgan hugged the lady.

  "We will meet again. I know it." Tears moistened all three ladies' eyes while Merrick assisted Rowan onto the railing.

  "Back to pirating?" he asked.

  "If I say yes, will you clap me in irons?"

  Merrick helped Morgan step up beside him. "You heard what I said to Bloodmoon."

  A bunch of gibberish about God and love and forgiveness? Aye, he'd heard. "I did." He clutched Morgan's waist. "Thank you for saving my life." He glanced over all of them. "Thank you for risking your lives for me."

  "Make us proud we have done so." Merrick stepped back and crossed arms over his chest.

  Rowan was not a man to cower before another, but the honesty and concern in the man's eyes flooded him with a rare conviction. The sooner he got away from these people the better. The next thing he knew, Rowan would be heralding the same God gibberish--or worse, joining a monastery. Gripping Morgan's waist, he assisted her down the ladder, shaking off the odd, annoying feeling that he would never be the same after his encounter with Lady Hyde and Captain Edmund Merrick.

  Chapter 25

  Morgan settled into a chair in Rowan's cabin, petting Blackbeard while battling extreme emotions of joy that Rowan was alive and terror that his injuries were too severe. God only knew what sort of barbaric surgery they performed in this time. If there was internal bleeding or any of Rowan's organs were damaged ... well, she didn't want to think about what they would do.

  The ship had long since set sail as evidenced by the rush of water against the hull and teetertottering of the deck. Lanterns flickered from various positions about the room as Edith assisted Farley, handing him archaic-looking instruments while he hovered over Rowan's bare chest, poking and prodding.

  Morgan had opted to stay during the examination--as long as Rowan kept his pants on, a request to which he'd winked and made no promises. Yet despite her horror at the sight of the deep lacerations covering his back and the dark bruises and cuts marring his magnificent chest, she was glad she had remained. Despite his pain, Rowan's gaze kept searching her out as if she were his only anchor in the storm of agony he suffered.

  Every time his blue eyes met hers--exhausted eyes, searing in pain--something passed between them. Some unknown band of affection, of understanding, that invisible bond that ties people together who have experienced the same tragedy, the same fears and heartache. She really couldn't explain it except to say it moved her, made her want to run to him and promise to be by his side forever.

  Farley dabbed some foul-smelling elixir on Rowan's back, and he groaned and grabbed his knees. "Lud, man, are you trying to kill me?"

  "Not today." Farley chuckled.

  Edith took a rag and dipped it in a basin of water. "Now, yous stay still, Captain. This salve will keep out infection."

  "It will keep out the devil himself," Rowan growled, glancing up at Morgan.

  "Good." Morgan replied curtly. "We don't need him here anymore anyway."

  To which he growled again.

  After applying the salve, Farley bandaged his back and then did the same to the wounds on his chest and arms. Next, he poured rum on the cut angling across Rowan's cheek to the side of his head, but Rowan snatched the bottle before he could finish and took a heavy swig.

  "This one'll need stichin', Cap'n," the portly man announced, digging through his satchel for the necessary tools, while Edith dabbed Rowan's swollen eye with the rag.

  "Once I met a man wit' wounds equal if not worse than yers, Cap'n." Farley retrieved a needle and twine. "Tortured fer days by the King's men at Marshallsea fer not disclosin' the whereabouts o' what he stole. When he was near death, they--"

  "Acquit me, woman." Rowan gently nudged Edith away, while effectively silencing Farley. "Such bedeviled fretting makes me wish for the privacy of my cell on Bloodmoon's ship."

  "Don't listen to him." Morgan rose and set the cat on her chair, sashaying towards him. "He's being a grouch. I know he's grateful for your help, aren't you Rowan?"

  "I have no idea what is this grouch." He winced as Farley drove in the first stitch. "But I'll admit to being thankful."

  Edith set down the cloth and approached Morgan. "I missed you, child. It's so good to see you."

  "Aye," Farley added, not looking up from his work. "She was crazed wit' worry durin' the battle."

  "You?" Morgan smiled at Edith. "Worry? I can't picture it."

  "Let's jist say I did a lot of praying, child." She stuffed an ebony curl into her bun and then leaned closer to peer in Morgan's eyes. "There's something different 'bout you. I dunno. A lightness, a sparkle ..."

  "I have much to tell you, Edith." Morgan glanced at Rowan, then whispered, "Later."

  "No doubt those blasted missionaries have filled her brain with mush." Rowan seethed out in a painful groan.

  "Oh, I do hope so!" Edith clapped her hands together, her face bright with joy. "But lemme tell you, Farley was worried for you too, an' Mr. Doran. We's all prayed hard."

  Rowan shifted in his seat. "Faith now, was anyone worried about me?"

  Morgan suppressed a giggle as Edith waved a hand in the air. "We's always praying for your sorry soul, Cap'n." She chuckled. "Well, I best go git you some tea an' something to eat." And off she went.

  Minutes passed as Farley stitched the side of Rowan's head. Every time he slid the needle through Rowan's skin, Morgan could swear she felt the pain herself. Even Blackbeard strolled over to Rowan and circled his feet as if sensing he was in need of comfort.

  Finally, Farley stepped way, washed his hands in the basin, and grabbed a towel.

  Rowan sat back in his chair, looking more pale than she'd ever seen him. Sweat glistened over his bloodied and bruised chest as he struggled to breathe. With his free hand, he reached down and scooped Blackbeard into his lap and began stroking the kitty.

  Now she knew he was sick.

  "Ye've got a broken rib, a skull fracture, lots of cuts and bruisin' but nothin' too serious from what I kin tell. O' course I can't see inside ye, so we'll have t' wait."

  Rowan took a gulp of rum. "Thank you, Farley. I'm quite all right. Just tired."

  "Aye, ye need yer rest, Cap'n. Infection could set in on yer wounds, 'specially on yer back, so's we needs t' keep an eye on 'em."

  Edith entered, tray in hand, and set it on the desk. Nick followed behind her and smiled at Morgan, before he addressed his captain. "Och, now, ye look as if ye'd been keelhauled."

  Rowan huffed and reached for a biscuit off the tray, the action causing him to wince. "I feel like I've been keelhauled. But, thanks to you, my friend. And you, Morgan"--he glanced her way--"I would have been on the morrow."

  "My pleasure." Nick scratched the red whiskers on his chin. "Though I canna say I'll always be there when ye act like a fish-brained fool."

  Rowan cocked a grin. "In good sooth, I hope so, for my past dictates there'll be more fish-brained foolery in the future."


  Nick chuckled. "I canna argue with that."

  Farley gathered his things and gestured for his wife to follow him out. "We leave ye t' yer rest, Cap'n."

  "I will as well," Nick said. "Jist tell me where t' point the Reckoning."

  "Need you ask? Toward the island where Brasiliano buried his treasure." Rowan pressed a hand on his side.

  "You can't be serious?" Morgan snapped. "You're still going after the treasure? After all this?"

  "Why wouldn't I, Lady Minx? Have I not suffered enough to keep its location secret?"

  Nick snorted. "So old Bloodmoon didna make ye talk?"

  "What do you think?" Rowan attempted a pompous grin, but it fell flat beneath a cringe of pain.

  Nick shoved his hat atop his head. "T' the island as ye wish, Captain. Now, get yer rest." He faced Morgan and gestured toward Rowan.

  "I'll look after him, Nick."

  A hint of mischief sparkled in his eyes before he strode from the room and shut the door.

  And just like that, she found herself alone with this stubborn, battered hunk-of-a-pirate who'd been tortured by a madman and barely escaped with his life. The CIA had nothing on these pirates. Waterboarding would have been child's play compared to what Rowan had endured, and still he had not revealed the location of the treasure.

  Unusually nervous in his presence, she folded her hands in front of her and stared out the stern windows, where darkness painted sea and sky with inky black before scattering silver jewels over both. So beautiful, this Caribbean, always changing, always new, so unlike her organized, predictable life.

  She felt his eyes upon her and shifted her gaze to his cluttered desk, then to the stained and knotted deck, then at the wrinkled folds of her skirts, anything but at the man's bare chest with those gorgeous muscles all bandaged and bruised. And Blackbeard nestled in his lap. Was there anything more appealing than a tough, bad boy petting a kitten?

  "I hope you're proud of yourself." She finally broke the silence.

  "I am. But for what great feat do you refer?"

  She finally looked up at him. "The great feat of nearly getting yourself killed on some fool's errand."

  "Ah, that." He grinned and grabbed a piece of fish from the tray, plopping it in his mouth. "But I didn't die."

  "You play so free with your life, Rowan. As if it means nothing to you."

  The ship creaked over a wave, and she stumbled.

  "Why should it?" He shrugged, leaned over to grab the rum and took another gulp.

  "Because you are God's creation."

  His lips slanted. "If so, I imagine he's recast the mold since his error." Setting Blackbeard on the floor, he struggled to rise.

  Morgan darted to his side. "Here, let me help."

  "Lud, woman. I'm not feeble."

  "I know that, you big oaf, but everyone needs help now and then." Positioning her shoulder beneath his arm, she hugged his waist and led him to his cot. He smelled of sweat and stink and blood, but she didn't care as she nudged him to lie back on the pillow.

  He stretched one hand behind his head and gazed at her with that look of his that never failed to melt her insides--desire, longing and admiration all bundled together. "I'm feeling a bit chilled, Lady Minx. Why not join me and keep me warm." He patted the blanket beside him.

  "I'd slap you if you weren't in so much pain."

  He smiled and took her hand. "It's good to see you, Lady Minx. In good sooth, I've never received such an affectionate greeting as when you flew into my arms earlier today."

  "Don't let it go to your head."

  "Alas, but it has already gone to my heart." He caressed her fingers, the cuts and callouses on his hands scratching her skin. "Why did you come back with me?"

  It was a question she kept asking herself. Since she had no idea whether the amulet would work or if Rowan would even let her try to go back to her time, every logical intuition, every rational thought told her that remaining with missionaries was the best choice, the safest choice. But another part of her, a voice deep inside, had urged her to follow this pirate into the unknown, had told her that she was done playing it safe. "Because obviously you need someone to knock some sense into you."

  He moved his hand up to lightly brush her cheek. Her body reacted to his touch, and she hated herself for it. "If you must know, I'm here to take care of you," she added nervously.

  "Indeed? In that case, I fear I'm in great pain, Lady Minx, and in need of your immediate attention. This, for instance"--he lifted his hand where a gash sliced his thumb--"'tis excruciating."

  Smiling, Morgan placed a kiss upon it.

  "And this, I fear." He pointed to a bandage on his arm.

  She kissed it.

  He flattened his lips and sighed. "And here as well." He gestured toward a red mark on his chest.

  Leaning over, she pressed her lips on the spot, gazing up at him playfully.

  "And here." He lifted his jaw where a dark bruise formed, and she placed several kisses across the spot, feeling her blood spin being so close to him.

  He tapped his lips before they curved seductively. "And here."

  "You are a cad, you know," she said before she pressed her lips to his. She tried to be gentle, not wanting to pain him, but she felt his passion rise and his arm circle her, pulling her close. He tasted of blood and rum and desire, and she lost herself in the way he hungrily, yet delicately caressed her mouth, so gentle for a man all roughness and steel. Heat swamped her--pleasurable heat that made her yearn for more. Her thoughts whirled, her body ignited, but a shred of reason forced her back.

  She pushed from him, only then remembering the wounds on his chest. But he gave no indication of pain, his look one of complete adoration.

  He eased a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You intrigue me, Lady Minx. You enchant me like no other woman."

  His words sent a thrill through her. She lowered her gaze but did not move from him, did not want to give up this closeness with him yet. "That's just the rum talking."

  "Nay. I've had my share of rum through the years, and it's never spoken thus."

  She smiled. "You are a charmer, Rowan, I'll give you that."

  His blue eyes searched hers, intent, needy, dare she say--vulnerable. "Pray tell, will you be this charmer's lady?"

  It was a question she longed to hear, an admittance of his affection for her--one she never thought to hear from such a man. But it was a question she couldn't answer. At least not yet. Not with the crazy thoughts spinning her mind into confusion. Not the least of which was that she was three hundred years in the past. And this man was a pirate, a thief who lived by violence and dissipation. Besides, what exactly did he mean by being his lady?

  Blackbeard leapt onto the bed and snuggled beside Rowan.

  "At least someone will share my bed." Rowan stroked the cat then studied Morgan, his expression serious. "Tell me you won't leave me and go back to your time."

  "So, you finally believe?" She backed away and moved a chair close to sit down.

  "Aye, but you didn't answer my question." His eyes fluttered closed for a second. He struggled to open them, but they shut again. He mumbled something she couldn't make out, and then drifted off to sleep.

  Thank God, because she didn't know the answer to his question. Something had changed between them, at least for her. She knew that she loved him--that she really loved him. But she had no idea how he felt in return. Something in his eyes told her he felt the same way, but she'd been fooled by a handsome face before--many of them. He could simply be charming her for some reason. Besides, "be his lady" was not exactly a marriage proposal.

  Marriage? What was she thinking? She must still have a spirit of stupidness plaguing her.

  How could she forget this man was a womanizer, a Don Juan of the seas, a man who preferred other men's wives and used them for his own pleasure? And did she mention he was a pirate? One still intent on getting his ill-gotten treasure. How could she ever trust a man like that?


  Still, as she watched him sleep, she could not deny the overwhelming draw he had on her, her intense yearning to make him happy. She dropped her face in her hands. Oh, God ... Father, I have no idea why You brought me to this time--well, in truth, she could guess it might have had something to do with delivering her of those demons and getting her to see God for who He was, which she was extremely thankful for--but why make me fall in love with this man? Please help me know what to do.

  Chapter 26

  Morgan stood at the starboard railing--yes, she had finally learned some of the ship terms--the next morning, face to the wind, feeling better than she had in years. Her energy had returned, as had her appetite, and she was sleeping soundly. The pain in her side was gone, too. Along with most of her worries--at least the things she used to fret over. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, or the day after, and although it did unsettle her a bit, she knew God had a plan.

  In fact, if she remembered correctly from Scripture, God was a lot like her in that He always had a plan. Though she wished He'd share some of it with her at the moment.

  Nick, who had greeted her earlier, leapt down from the quarterdeck and slipped beside her. "Surprised t' see ye here on deck, lass, wi'out benefit of escort." The wind fingered his short red hair as his eyes met hers.

  The ship tilted and Morgan braced her shoes on the deck. "You mean why am I not terrified to be alone with all these pirates?"

  He grinned. "Weel, if ye put it tha' way, aye."

  Behind them, Scratch shouted orders for the crew to adjust sail, sending men clambering up ropes and speeding to the tops.

  Morgan's gaze followed them, still amazed they could leap so fast without fear. "Something happened to me on board the Redemption. Merrick and Charlisse ... well, they showed me how wrong I've been about God."

  Nick's smile couldn't have been brighter. "Pleases me t' hear tha', lass. 'Twas wha' Edith an' I were praying for. If anyone could get ye t' see God, 'tis those two."

  "You? Prayed for me?" The ship lurched over a wave as she studied the man. When Morgan had told Edith what had happened last night, the woman mentioned praying for her. But Morgan hadn't considered that anyone else would care enough to pray. She swallowed a lump of emotion at this pirate's concern.