Zoe’s gaze locked on the broadsword again, then shifted to the window. Open, letting in the briny smell of the sea, the window seemed the perfect escape. Perhaps a bit less than perfect when Zoe actually looked down toward the street. Still, how far could it be, especially if she hung from the sill and dropped down slowly.
And truthfully, what choice did she have?
Gathering her courage as well as her skirts, Zoe climbed through the opening. Hanging onto the rough sill, her feet dangling far above the dirt road, Zoe had a fleeting wish that the Scot would awaken. She even considered screaming for him, but instead shut her eyes, held her breath and let loose her grip.
She landed on her feet, then fell back onto her bottom.
“Oh, no,” she whimpered. “I’ve broken my ankles.” She sat in the dirt, almost expecting Miss Phelps to come bustling out of the shadows with a helping hand. But of course that was foolish. There was no one to help her but herself. So after several moments and two attempts to rise, Zoe managed to stand. Her ankles were sore but they did support her weight and after a few steps, truly weren’t that painful.
Not that she wouldn’t have preferred resting them on a soft pillow to limping down the deserted street toward the Hungry Rook, but these were desperate times.
Despite the late hour, the tavern was teeming with life, most of it quite disreputable. But Zoe held her head high as she entered the establishment. The din of noise subsided as first one, then another, patron nudged his companion and nodded toward Zoe. She had another, irrational, but none the less real, desire to race back to the Scot for protection.
That thought vanished as she saw Captain Holt making his way toward her across the crowded room. She smiled and he returned the gesture, though his seemed a bit wobbly. From drink she imagined. Oh well, she wasn’t after a saint, only someone to return her to Fox.
“Mistress Zoe, I must say I’m surprised to see you here. Surprised but pleased.” He accompanied his words with a lift of her hand to his lips. Zoe caught the unmistakable odor of rum on his breath.
“Actually,” she began, then glanced about at the myriad faces turned her way, “do you suppose there is somewhere we might speak in private?”
Nodding, he led her toward a table in the corner. Three men, one with only a stump for his right leg, grumbled their objections but clattered out of their seats when the captain gave the order.
With a bow he offered a chair to Zoe. The captain was shorter than she had earlier thought, a bit coarser, but his dark eyes were friendly and she really had nowhere else to turn. When they’d both settled into seats, Zoe began again.
“First of all I think you should know, I’m Lady Zoe Morgan.” She watched, as his brows lifted. “I know you must think it strange that I’ve come here, but let me assure you it was not by choice.”
“I don’t understand. Your husband...”
“He’s not my husband but my kidnapper. Please!” Zoe covered his hand with her own. “You must take me to my brother. He will reward you handsomely.”
The captain’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I imagine he will.”
~ ~ ~
He came awake with an abruptness begun during his months at New Gaol. As on so many of those mornings, it took Keegan a moment to realize where he was. Free was the first thought that came to mind. Alone was the second.
“Damnation!” Keegan jumped to his feet, stomping on his boots in almost the same motion. Where in the hell could she be? He grabbed up the broadsword and pistol before striding toward the door. Finding it locked was a surprise, but then how would she have gotten the key without waking him? How in the hell did she get away without waking him? Keegan cursed the softhearted impulse that had kept him from tying her the night before as he strode to the window.
He didn’t know how she did it, but she must have used the window to escape. He half expected to see her broken body lying in the dirt when he looked down. Instead he found nothing but dusty road.
So she was gone, Keegan took a deep breath and leaned against the window’s sash. He didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved. The more he thought on it, the more relief won out. Without her he could travel faster. And if Fox Morgan was in Scotland, he’d find him—with or without his sister.
Yes, Keegan decided as he fished the key from his pocket, this was all for the best. He’d get something to eat, and then be on his way. Keegan was still trying to count his blessings when he went belowstairs. But there were a few things that bothered him. Like where did she go? And with whom? Keegan had an idea he might know the answer to that one. What would she do for money? And how in the hell was she going to stay alive?
The innkeeper greeted him with a smile that quickly vanished when Keegan grabbed the man’s tunic and hauled him closer.
“What do ye know of a Captain Holt?”
“Why sir, I don’t understand your question. If you’d just let me down.”
“Tell me man, is he a smuggler? A pirate?”
“Oh that and more,” the innkeeper’s wife said coming up behind her husband. “But you’ve no need to worry on him. He’s sailing off this day. Heading to Scotland I hear.”
“Hell and damnation!” Keegan growled before letting the innkeeper loose.
Seven
Keegan agreed with the gulls laughing at him as they swooped and glided on currents of air. He was a fool. There was no denying it in his mind. Zoe Morgan was out of his life. No more listening to her complain. To her questions. To her constant stream of illnesses. He should be thanking the Fates. Hell, he should be riding off across the downs toward Scotland.
Instead he picked his way along a crooked path that led to the foam-covered black rocks below. This wasn’t the main road from the village to the sea. But then Keegan didn’t feel he should announce his arrival at the harbor. Not for what he had planned.
Which was not to say he actually had a plan. More like a general idea. Which was to rescue Zoe... whether she wished it or not.
The Sea Maiden was still docked and it didn’t appear it would be sailing anytime soon. Keegan couldn’t see anyone on deck. Keegan grabbed onto a bunch of pale broom grass as his feet slipped on the lichen-covered rocks. Damnation. One would think for a Highlander he’d be better able to traverse this type of terrain. This was what living in London had done to him.
He could feel the spray now, salt-tinged and shooting up from the boulders below. He paused, surveying the harbor. No one seemed to have noticed him yet. And he wished to keep it that way—which eliminated walking up the gangplank. The only other way aboard was the rope ladder—which of course meant a swim he wasn’t anxious to take.
With a disgruntled curse, Keegan slipped the pistol from his pocket, hid it behind an outcrop of rocks and walked into the buffeting surf.
The sea was choppy, churned by the underwater rocks, and hard as hell to swim. By the time Keegan reached the Sea Maiden most of his energy was spent. But he managed to cling to the rope ladder until he caught his breath. Then slowly he began to climb.
He wished he could unsheath his broadsword, but decided the weapon would do him little good against a boatload of pirates, which is what he might find at the top. Instead he found the deck still empty. Deciding not to question his good fortune, Keegan leaped over the rail. He made it to the hatch without being detected, and hurried down the ladder.
From the inquiries he had made in the village, he figured Zoe was on board. Which meant she could be anywhere. Keegan let his eyes adjust to the feeble flickers of light thrown off by a taper dripping wax over its wrought-iron holder. If he was holding someone hostage he’d either put them in the hold, or lock them in a cabin.
Keegan just couldn’t imagine Zoe amid the bilge-water and rats of the hold so he made his way aft, toward Captain Holt’s cabin. Despite his attempts to be quiet, his sea-soaked boots squished with each step. Outside the closed door, Keegan unsheathed his broadsword, then tapped on the door with the hilt.
There was no response. He tapped a
gain. “Zoe.”
This was met by a muffled noise he couldn’t decipher through the rough-planed boards. His attempt to lift the latch met with no success. The damn thing was locked. Keegan sucked in air and glanced around. Then with as much strength as he had he slammed his shoulder into the door. Once, twice. Till his body ached and the wood splintered. The third time he went sailing into the cabin.
“Zoe?”
She was alone in the room, sitting in a chair. Actually tied to a chair, her hands twisted behind her back, her eyes as big as saucers above the scarf gagging her.
“What the hell?”
Keegan strode toward her, not liking the way she shifted herself as far away as she could. She let out a muffled squeal when he lifted his sword, but sank back in relief when he used it to slice through the ropes. Her wrists were red and welted, and Keegan noticed her staring at them with concern as he jerked off the gag. She swallowed, then worked her jaw from side to side.
“Are ye all right? He did not hurt ye any did he?”
“No.” Her voice was rusty with disuse. “Well yes. Look at my arms.”
“They’ll heal.”
“Yes, but...” Zoe stifled a sob. “Oh Keegan, you were so right about him. He’s a monster. He took me hostage and...” Zoe let her hands slip off the Scot’s wet arms where she’d grasped him. “What am I telling you this for? You kidnapped me first. You threatened to tie me up.” She jerked away from him. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Rescuing you,” hardly seemed the appropriate thing to say in light of her accusations... her true accusations. Keegan opened his mouth, then shut it, finally blurting out a mixture of fact and fiction. “Ye were my hostage first, and I keep what is mine. Now come on with ye.” He paused, cupping her cheek with his hand. “What is it? Ye’re as white as the ghosts hauntin’ Castle MacLeod.”
“I imagine it’s because she sees me.”
Keegan didn’t have to turn to know who that voice belonged to. He took a deep breath, set Zoe aside, and whirled about, broadsword raised. He’d cut the bastard to shreds. However, much of his bravado evaporated when he saw the pistol in Holt’s hand. Not to mention the ones held by two other crew members. They were all pointed his way. Hazarding a glance over his shoulder toward Zoe, Keegan let the broadsword clatter to the deck.
It was immediately scooped up by one of the smugglers, an odd-looking little man with ears that stuck out like mushrooms and hair the color of carrots. He spit on the blade, rubbed the spot clean with the arm of his jacket and grinned so wide his cheeks protruded.
“Nice weapon, this.”
“Pleased I am that ye approve,” Keegan said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Now if ye’ll be givin’ it back to me, my wife and I’ll be on our way.”
“Your wife, eh?” Holt chortled. “Now that’s strange. Lady Zoe gave a completely different tale, didn’t you my dear?”
Lady Zoe? The look she gave him was contrite, when his gaze met hers.
“Yes, she was very talkative.” The captain strode into the cabin, after first shaking his head at the splintered door. “And the person she spoke of most was you.”
“She’s a bit touched.” Keegan started to lift his finger to his temple, stopping when a pistol was cocked.
“She said you’d say that, didn’t you, sweetness?”
“I am not your sweetness.”
“That’s right. You’re Lady Zoe Morgan, sister of Lord Foxworth Morgan, and worth a pretty ransom unless I miss my guess.” Holt’s teeth gleamed in his swarthy face.
“She’s worth nothing to you. Let her go.”
“Ah, such chivalrous words, and from one who’s worth a tidy sum himself. Isn’t that right Lady Zoe?” When Zoe said nothing the captain continued. “As it is, Keegan MacLeod, you’ve saved me and my men a bit of trouble. We were coming to get you before we sailed. Weren’t we, men?”
“Aye, we were at that,” answered the tar holding Keegan’s broadsword. The other sailor seemed content to let their captain do the talking.
“We thought it only fitting that we return such a savage Jacobite as yourself to the proper authorities in Scotland.”
“The truth of it is,” the sailor said as he jabbed at Keegan with his own sword, “they don’t much care if you’re dead or alive.”
“My brother wants him alive.” Zoe stepped forward, positioning herself between Keegan and his tormentor, ignoring the blade suddenly pointed her way. “There’s a feud between the two, and not one that Lord Foxworth wants settled by some pirate... or the courts.”
“What you’re saying Lady Zoe is—”
“Is that your best chance of receiving the most money is to take us both to my brother. Unharmed.” Zoe stood as straight and tall as she could, ignoring the crick in her back and shoulders from being subjected to such barbaric treatment as being tied to a chair. Her wrists hurt too, and her jaw was sore. Yes, she certainly had her share of complaints... quite legitimate complaints. But they seemed to pale in comparison to the idea of the pirates killing the Scot.
Which was not exactly rational on her part. The man had kidnapped her, threatened her brother, made her life miserable. Still, she couldn’t erase from her mind the moment he came exploding through the door, nor the expression on his face when he saw her.
Zoe counted the seconds by the pounding of her pulse as Captain Holt stared, first at her, then Keegan. She could almost hear his mind calculating, weighing his desire to kill Keegan against his lust for money. Greed won... at least for the moment.
“Lock them both in the hold while I give this more thought.”
~ ~ ~
“Would you please stop pacing? You’re making my head hurt”
Keegan didn’t miss a step, though he did shoot a look over his shoulder toward the woman perched on a coil of rope. A look meant to quell any further comment. He should have known it wouldn’t work.
“I should think we’re better off now than we were before. Though goodness knows, it is damp in here. And the noxious fumes in this air...” Zoe gave a delicate sniff, “can’t be good for one’s health.”
“But then these friends of yours aren’t concerned about our health, are they?”
“You needn’t be so sarcastic. They aren’t my—”
At that moment the Scot acquiesced to her wish. He stopped pacing. Right in front of her. With an intensity that made Zoe lean back against the oozing bulkhead, Keegan stared at her.
“I should be on me way to Scotland.” Keegan plowed fingers through his wet hair, then repeated the words, his voice lower, almost as if he were talking to himself.
“Well, I should be ensconced in bed, plumped by goose-down pillows, snuggled beneath a comforter.”
“ ’Tis not night,” Keegan commented absently. He was now, single stubbed candle in hand, examining the boundaries of their prison.
“I know that. My health as it was... is... I spent a good deal of time in bed.”
“Alone? Nay, forget that, of course ye were alone,” Keegan said with a wave of his hand. Keegan stopped studying the lock and straightened. “Did not ye get bored with being abed all the time.”
“Well yes, I suppose.” Zoe drew her knees up, circling them with her arms. “But Miss Phelps said it was for my own good.”
“Ah, Miss Phelps.”
“Don’t say her name that way.”
“What way?” Keegan gave the door a hearty kick, regretting it as pain shot through his toes.
“You know what way. Miss Phelps is a dear woman who did her very best to keep me well. You simply don’t understand how sick I was... am.”
“And that’s a wonder, since ye’ve been tellin’ me from the moment we met.”
“You mean the moment you dragged me from my home.” Zoe’s hands dropped to grasp the coiled rope, her feet hit the planked deck.
“Aye.” Keegan sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “That probably wasn’t the most rational thing I’ve ever done... or the kindest.�
�
Or the kindest? The very idea that he would consider that, surprised Zoe. Taken aback, she was at a loss for words.
Which meant Keegan went back to testing each board in relative quiet, with only the swish slap of the water against the hull for company. He’d about given up, the area certainly seemed to be secure, when the toe of his boot found a soft spot in the wood.
“Come here, Zoe.” When she did, Keegan handed her the candle, positioning her so he had the full benefit of its light. He glanced about, his gaze catching on the iron hoop of a broken keg.
“What is it?” Zoe leaned closer.
“I’m not sure yet, but the wood’s a wee bit rotted, and I think... Aye.” Keegan scraped through the board. “We can make ourselves a hole.”
“But where does it lead? Do you think we can get off this ship? Hurry, dig faster.”
“Hold the light steady, for God’s sake. And I don’t know where it leads. Most likely another section of the hold.”
“So what good will it do us to get there?” Zoe leaned down to better see, then jerked back suddenly. “Ouch!”
“What in the hell is troublin’ ye now?”
“Nothing. I’m all right,” Zoe said, her voice tight.
“Then move the candle so I can see. And it may help us t’ break out of this hold because the next one may not be locked, Lady— All right, tell me what’s wrong with ye.” Keegan hadn’t missed the soft, whimpering sound. Elbows on knees he twisted toward her on the balls of his feet. But though he tried to appear concerned about her well-being—she was obviously in some sort of pain—she just kept shaking her head and insisting she was fine.
Finally with a shrug of his shoulders Keegan decided to take her at her word. He angled the pointed end of the barrel hoop toward the bulkhead and shoved forward. Just as she let out a wounded cry.
“Ach, ye’re drivin’ me mad is what ye’re doin’.” Keegan pushed to his feet, covering the two paces between them quickly. “Now tell me what’s troublin’ ye? Did Holt hurt ye, the bastard?”
The Renegade (The Renegade, Rebel and Rogue) Page 8
