Within A Captain's Power

by Lisa Olech

  “Bloody hell.” The smoke still clung to the decks, as did the pools of bright blood running between the deck boards. James watched as the last body was carried away. “The bastards were intent on killing Samantha.”

  “They didn’t succeed.” Ducky indicated the blood smears on James’s uniform. “You can be thankful none of that is hers.”

  “Did you have any notion this was coming?”

  “No.” Ducky shook his head. “Must have been a last desperate attempt to escape now that we’re so close to land. A slow anger has been building for weeks. I thought it had settled down. Things had been quiet for days. I thought they’d finally resigned themselves to their fate.”

  Men swirled around them, clearing away any evidence of the skirmish. James again marveled at the rate of efficiency among his men. “We obviously gave them more freedom than prudent. When the tower officials arrive, unload them one at a time. Shackle them below. Two guards on each.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Ducky nodded. “And what about Mistress Christian?”

  “I’m taking a dispatch to the office of the admiral now. I’m asking that she be remanded into my custody. She knows she’ll be unloaded from the Lion with the rest, but she’ll be placed into my care before they can sail through Traitor’s Gate.”

  “And Captain Quinn?”

  “She’s stubborn as a mule, but you saw her. Her spirit is broken. Maybe she’ll listen to reason now. While I’m with the admiral, I’ll suggest the possibility of a reduced sentence. Once I’m back with Samantha, I’ll ride to Weatherington.”

  Ducky cocked his head. “I seem to remember a promise made to the stubborn Captain Quinn. You weren’t to mention finding her to your mother.”

  “Aye, and I won’t.” He gave Ducky a small grin. “When have you ever known me to go back on a promise? I did pledge not to speak to my mother about Alice Tupper Quinn. However, I made no such oath regarding my father.”

  * * * *

  James boarded the small transfer skiff with four other men who made quick work of getting him to shore. His time was short. He had to get Admiral Marcus to agree to waive Samantha’s imprisonment in the Tower of London before the prisoners were transferred into the hands of the tower guards.

  James rushed into Marcus’s quarters. He removed his hat and tucked it beneath his arm. A large hank of hair had pulled from the cue and fell across his face. He pushed it back. With blood still staining his uniform, he was far from his orderly self, but there was no time for either pleasantries nor polish.

  “Captain James Steele, HMS Lion. I need to see the Admiral on a matter of the highest urgency.” He headed toward the wide, ornate doors behind the greeting officer.

  A spindly lieutenant manning the admiral’s outer office stood to block James’s entrance. “I’m sorry, Captain, but the adm—”

  “Will see me.” He stared down at the man. “That is what you were about to say. Am I correct, lieutenant?”

  “No, sir. I was about to say the admiral is preparing to leave momentarily for a pressing social engagement. I can make an appointment for you to meet with him first thing tomorrow morning.”

  James straightened his jacket and stood to his full height. “Does it look like I can wait until first thing tomorrow morning? If the admiral is preparing to leave, then he has not already left. Which means he is right behind those doors.” James moved to skirt past the infuriating man.

  “But, Captain….” He stepped in front of James once more.

  James clenched his jaw so tightly, his back teeth were in danger of being ground into powder. He took a step back from the man and drew his sword from its scabbard. “Step aside, lieutenant. That is an order.”

  The soldier’s face went a lighter shade of pale before he did as he was bid.

  James pushed into the inner office.

  “What the bloody hell?”

  “I tried to stop him, Admir—” James turned back and slammed the door in the lieutenant’s face.

  “Just who the hell are you, Captain? What is the meaning of this?” Admiral Jonathan Marcus finished donning his bedecked and beribboned coat. His valet draped it over his shoulders and adjusted the tails of the admiral’s wig. “Put away your weapon, sir, unless you’ve come to run me through. In which case, could you take down my valet after he’s finished dressing me?” The valet peered over the aging admiral’s shoulder with wide, panicked eyes.

  “I beg your pardon, Admiral.” James sheathed his sword. “Captain Steele, James Steele, HMS Lion, sir. I need a moment of your time.”

  “You have less than a moment, Captain. I’m late for an appointment.”

  “Then I’ll make it brief. I have captured and returned with the ship known as the Scarlet Night and her crew.”

  “The Scarlet Night? Good show. Well done. You’ll receive a fine bonus for such a catch.”

  “Thank you, sir, but there is a far more important issue with one of the crew.” James showed Samantha’s signed petition to the admiral and quickly explained the situation. “The woman is clearly innocent of these charges, admiral. I see no reason why she should be imprisoned in the tower. Samantha Christian is no threat. She is no pirate. I’m asking she be placed in my custody for the period of time it takes to clear up this unfortunate matter.”

  “She signed the petition of charges?”

  “Yes, but only because her name appeared on the Ship’s Articles, and by order, the charges had to be read and agreed.”

  “Indeed.”

  James’s hand swept the documents laid before the admiral. “As you can see, procedure has been followed to the letter, but in this case, an exception must be made.”

  Admiral Marcus rolled the parchment and handed it back to James. “And procedure will continue to be followed, Captain. I’m afraid the wheels are already turning. I believe you think this Mistress Christian is innocent. Quite a compelling story…if it is true. And when she stands before the magistrate and pleads her innocence, she will be heard accordingly.” The valet continued to add sashes and baldrics to the paunchy admiral. “However, until that time, our hands are tied. The moment she leaves your ship, Captain, she is a prisoner of the courts. It’s procedure.”

  “But surely—”

  “You have done your duty well, Captain Steele. With honor. You and your crew should be proud. This will all play out as it should, in an orderly time and manner. The best I can do is see to it Mistress Christian gets a cell to herself.”

  “But, Admiral—”

  Marcus shook a finger at James. “I advise you, strongly, to continue following proper protocol in this manner, unless you truly dislike your new commission. I’ve heard only glowing reports about you, Captain, but I’m beginning to cast doubt upon them. I warn you, if your performance and roughshod appearance here today is any indication of your true character, heed me well. Any interference of any kind with Mistress Christian’s handling will find you in a cell not too far from hers.” Admiral Marcus pushed a perfumed, lace-trimmed handkerchief into the end of his sleeve.

  “There is also the matter of Captain Tupper Quinn. She is another issue entirely, but I was hoping to plead upon your honor to find a way to reduce the full measure of charges against her.”

  “Fear not,” the Admiral scoffed. “I highly doubt the courts would see a woman hang, in either case.”

  “But there is a strong chance, and I—”

  “I wouldn’t test my patience any further, Captain Steele. We are done. You’re dismissed.”

  * * * *

  When James raced back to the Lion, he was too late. The prisoners were already being led away from the ship. Ducky rushed to join him. “Cutting it close, don’t you think?”

  James could do nothing but stand there and watch. Blood pulsed in his ears. Frustration, fear, and impatience threatened to tear him apart. “The admiral denied my request.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  James explained the scene
with the admiral. “I’m to do nothing to interfere. I can’t even talk to her to explain what’s happening.” He saw Samantha then, marched in a line with the others. Every fiber of his being wanted to go to her, tell her to stay strong, give her hope, and try to calm her fears. Instead he had to stand there, hands in fists by his side, unable to even call out to her. He prayed that somehow she would come to understand and forgive him.

  He met her panicked gaze. It broke his heart. “Oh, God, I have to—”

  Ducky grabbed tight to his arm and held him back. “Steady, man. You’ll do her no good from your own prison cell. Let her go. They won’t even allow you in to see her today. Tomorrow, go to her and explain everything.”

  The sight of her tore at him. “Can you see the way she’s looking at me?”

  “I can see. Stay strong. All will be well.”

  Across the crowded dock, all James could do was watch the horrendous scene unfold. Samantha tried to take a step away from the proceedings and was yanked back into line. Two guards struggled to move her forward. When they lowered Samantha into the waiting barge, she looked back once more and cried out his name. Over the din, he couldn’t hear her cry, but he saw it. Felt it reach into his chest and tear at his heart.

  “Dear God…” Ducky strengthened his hold as James pulled against his friend’s restraint. “Let me go.”

  “You can’t help her now.” Ducky jerked him back. “Tomorrow will come.”

  James wanted to scream. Then he saw Tupper and his heart tore once again. Gone was the brash bravado, the cocky swagger the fearless posture. She looked utterly defeated. Beaten. Old.

  He buried his face in his hands. What the hell had he done? Bloody hell! This was a nightmare.

  The barges sailed off, along with the shreds of his heart. James turned to Ducky, a rush of determination firing through him. “Tomorrow. That should give us just enough time.”

  Ducky frowned at him. “To do what?”

  “Get our asses to Weatherington and back.”

  “Weathington?”

  “I need another Captain Steele in the mix. Time to tell my father, I found his ship.”

  Chapter 26

  Two pairs of strong hands grabbed for Samantha and pulled her toward the waiting barge. Pure panic surged through her. Wait, this wasn’t the plan. What was he doing? “James!”

  He stood there. Stone still. Ducky at his side. Were they speaking? From this distance, she couldn’t tell. Her heart started to pound. She pulled against the rough hands tugging on her. Any second James would march forward, part the sea of uniforms between them, and take her away from this madness.

  But he didn’t move, not an inch. The cold truth slapped her across the face. Terror clawed its way up her spine. She pleaded silently with him. Her gaze locked with his across the space. Please, move. Say something. Stop them.

  “Oh, God, he lied….” The cold truth punched the air from her lungs. James had no intention of stopping her transfer to the tower. He was going to stand there and watch it happen. Let it happen. The edges of her vision hazed. “He lied….” A buzz in her ears drowned out the sounds around her. The world went gray.

  Two guards held tight to her upper arms, otherwise, she would have fallen into the feted water of the Thames. Instead, they carried—or dragged— her to one of the waiting barges, shoved her in, then carried her through the arched water gate known to all as Traitor’s Gate before delivering her into the hands of her jailors.

  They led her through a maze of tight stone corridors and narrow curved staircases until finally unshackling her wrists before pushing her into a small cramped cell and slamming the thick wooden door behind her.

  A narrow slit of a window sat high in the far wall, allowing only a weak shaft of light into the dank space. The area in front of the window bore the evidence of the cell’s past inhabitants. Stones removed, in perhaps a vain attempt at escape, had created a makeshift seat in the thick outer wall. Over the years, the seat had been smoothed and worn by prisoners clinging to the faint sliver of light that struggled through the window. It was a fragile hold on the outside world while they awaited their fate.

  Samantha tried to climb the slick stones. She couldn’t breathe. The smell inside the cell was indescribable. Filth crept up the stones of the walls and darkened the corners. She didn’t dare think about what else occupied her cell within the lumps of rotting straw.

  Pulling her knees to her chest, Samantha curled into the window seat. From this vantage point she could see a tiny corner of sky. Trembling with a mixture of shock, and fright, she hung on to that little triangle of cloudless blue in a world gone dark and tried to make sense out of what had happened.

  She’d been betrayed. That was what had happened. James had stood there, staring. He hadn’t moved or spoken. All his promises and endless planning—what had they been for? How many times had he gone over them? Made sure she repeated them to assure she fully understood. Why would he have gone to all the trouble? What was it all for?

  An elaborate ruse to keep her in his bed? Sick entertainment to fill the hours? It made no sense. But there she stood on that accused dock, like some naïve fool believing he would sweep in and rescue her again. How many times did she have to face the cold reality that no one could save her. Not even herself.

  She’d committed the ultimate sin. Wanting and reaching for more than she deserved. Coveting another life. She should have been content to stay in South Oxbridge and marry a farm boy, raise another crop of farm boys, and die old, worn, and empty. No, she had wanted to sail to a new land, to a promise of wealth and privilege. Be the bright star in her family’s lives. Relieve their burden. Pull them back from the brink of poverty. Share her good fortune.

  Instead, she chose to ignore the wee small voice in the back of her head warning her of Wessler’s lies. She wanted so much to believe them, she had sailed across an entire ocean and into hell itself. It was only by grace her family didn’t lose everything waiting for her to shower them with riches.

  And now, she had done it again. Reached for something beyond her grasp. Fallen in love with a man she had no right to and believed another clever set of lies. Yet another host of empty promises. But even as the thought filtered through her mind, her heart fought against it.

  James loved her. How many times had he pledged himself to her? Taken her into his bed and shown her a tenderness and loving passion that made her love him more as each day passed? Was it all a sick hoax?

  He’d deceived her… used her… lied to her.

  No! Samantha wrapped her arms around herself and held tight. Not James. Not the man who nursed her back from her wound, fed her broth, bathed her skin through a fever. Not the man who loved her, touched her the way he did, kissed her on the decks at night, whispered tender endearments while surrounded by starlight.

  He couldn’t have lied. But here she sat, hanging on to a speck of sky the color of his eyes.

  Samantha covered her mouth as the tears wrenched from her soul began to fall. He couldn’t have…. The image of him standing in the sunlight, coldly watching as she was dragged onto the prison barge, would forever be etched in her mind. A sob wracked though her body.

  Oh, God, he did.

  She pulled the tail of her shirt to wipe at her eyes. His best shirt. Anger and grief welled and crashed over her. Grabbing a fist full of snowy linen sleeve, she ripped it to hang from its shoulder seam. Samantha tugged at the neckline, tearing the ties holding it closed at her throat.

  With her chest pumping like hearth bellows, the paleness of her breasts stopped her from shredding the garment. She covered her face, destined to wear the shirt of her ill-fated love when they ended her ill-fated life.

  * * * *

  “This is not the way to Weatherington.” Ducky raced behind James.

  “Did you think I planned to walk there?”

  “No, but where—”

  James kept up his long strides. Time was wasting. He co
uld almost hear the tick of the clock in his head. “Lillian’s.”

  Ducky grabbed at his sleeve and dragged him to a stop. “Have you lost your mind? You can’t see her now.”

  James pulled away and kept walking. “Why not?”

  Ducky rushed to keep up. “And say what? ‘Oh hello, darling, I’ve been gone for months, but the only reason I’m here is for your carriage. I must rush home to get my parents to help me save the woman I am terribly in love with. You don’t mind, do you?’ She’ll bat those ice-jade eyes of hers and reply, ‘Of course not, my dearest, take my carriage. As that’s surely the last possession of mine you’ll ever touch. Enjoy... kiss kiss.’”

  “Lillian never says, ‘kiss kiss.’” James quickened his pace. “Besides, there’s a good chance we’ll not see Lillian. She’s not much of a homebody. I will leave a note with her maid, and when I return, I’ll speak to her about the rest.”

  “The rest,” Ducky scoffed. “As in, you’ve fallen in love with someone else, the marriage is off, she is going to be a social laughing stock? That rest?”

  James shot him a glance over his shoulder. “You do have the annoying habit of pointing out the obvious.”

  “Someone has to keep their wits about them. I’m still shocked it’s me,” Ducky panted.

  Soon they reached the Waterford’s grand London home. Set back from the street, large ornate iron gates guarded the entrance. James took the wide front stairs two at a time. He’d been there a hundred times and refused to stand on ceremony. He let himself in and came face to face with Lillian’s butler. The man’s eyebrows nearly parted his hair.

  James handed off his hat. “Basil.”

  He’d completely flustered the man, but he had the impeccable training not to show it. However, he couldn’t stop his wide forehead from starting to sweat. “Captain Steele, sir. We were not expecting you until later this week.” He took Ducky’s hat as well.

  James pushed past and peered into the library. It was empty. “Winds were with me. Is Lillian at home?”

  “Yes, however Lady Waterford is with… a… caller at present. If you and your companion will wait here, I will announce—”