Love's Guardian

by Dawn Ireland

  Alex rolled her tongue around the inside of her mouth, attempting to moisten it. She wrinkled her nose. Had she slept with her mouth open?

  The smell of salt air combined with the soft lapping of water made her think of The Merry Elizabeth. Paddy must have found her. Everything would be all right now. She was safe.

  She opened her eyes and counted the number of rough-hewn planks that comprised the overhead. There should be forty-seven. She lost count around the center where some of the boards had warped. Odd, the little game used to be simple when she was a child, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate. What was wrong with her?

  “You’re awake. I thought perhaps Spider gave you too much laudanum.” Luther’s voice didn’t carry any concern.

  She sat straight up. Her head began to pound, and pain radiated through her ribs, causing tears to well up in her eyes. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying out, but barely felt the self-inflicted injury. The drug must be dulling some of the pain. Her mouth was going to hurt like hell when it wore off. Holding as still as possible, she stared at her cousin who sat at the captain’s table, the remnants of a meal scattered before him.

  He wore a white waistcoat and jacket of brocade with white embroidery adding a flourish to the edges. His breeches, hose, and shoes were of white silk. Even his blond hair had been powdered white. It hurt her eyes to look at him in the dimness of the cabin.

  What did he remind her of? She chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to dredge up the memory. Of course. She had to bite back a giggle. He looked like a cut diamond she’d seen once when a jeweler called on her grandfather. The large gem had glittered on its black background, just as Luther now shone in his plain surroundings.

  She shook her head slightly. Even diamonds had flaws, and Luther was more flawed than most. His faults weren’t reflected on the outside. She was sailing too near the wind with someone as unpredictable as her cousin. She’d best remember that.

  “Nothing to say?” Luther raised an eyebrow. “What happened to my sharp-tongued cousin?”

  “Where’s Paddy?” To the right of the bunk she could hear breathing, but didn’t dare turn to see who was there.

  “In a safe place,” Luther said. “He didn’t seem inclined to let us use The Merry Elizabeth, so my colleagues did a little convincing.”

  “If you hurt him, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?”

  In spite of the pain, she reached for the blade in her boot. It was gone.

  Luther gave her an arrogant smile. “I remembered your weapon from our last meeting and took the liberty of removing it.”

  Did he know about the neck sheath? She rotated her shoulders until she felt the rough leather rub against her back. It was still there. Thank God. The movement helped to clear her head so she continued rolling her shoulders and taking deep breaths. She needed her wits about her.

  “As my wife, you won’t have need of your toy.”

  Repugnance washed over her. “I’ll never marry you.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Luther’s unfocused gazed caused a shiver to run down her spine. He was mad if he thought she’d agree to his scheme.

  “Oakleigh Manor is mine.” Luther’s hand clenched the stem of his goblet. “I intend to have it with or without your help. As soon as King George signs my petition to set aside Queen Elizabeth’s dispensation, I’ll have everything.”

  Her momentary panic eliminated the last of the cobwebs from her brain. Could he do that? But if he was sure of the petition, why kidnap her? No, he must still need her. At least for the moment.

  “I wish Mother could see me now.” He picked up his napkin and dabbed it at the corner of his mouth. “She used to tell me I would be Oakleigh’s lord one day.”

  “Oakleigh doesn’t belong to you. Lord Worthington will never allow it.”

  “Ah yes, the guardian. I’m afraid he won’t find you until it’s too late. We’ll set sail before he realizes the carriage he’s chasing to Scotland is merely a decoy. After our marriage, he’ll no longer be involved.” He stood, circled the table, and pulled out a chair. “Come here.”

  She stayed where she was.

  Luther gave a lingering sigh and nodded to whomever stood near the bunk. Spider appeared in her line of vision and yanked her to her feet. The sudden movement took her breath away.

  Before she could steady herself, Spider backhanded her. The blow sent her sprawling on the bunk. Her mouth stung. The taste of blood made her want to gag.

  She lay on her back, the pain in her chest forcing her to take small, quick breaths. With great effort, she turned her head and glared at Luther.

  “I’m afraid my companion is still rather upset.” Luther smiled and shook his head. “The last time you met, you left without saying goodbye. He’s not nearly as patient as I am.” Luther held out his hand. “Join me?”

  By sheer willpower, she managed to sit up and wipe the blood from her mouth.

  Spider loomed over her, his putrid breath mingling with the smells emanating from his unwashed body. His small, wiry form and bulging eyes hinted at his name.

  “Not so high an’ mighty now, are ya? Here, let me ‘elp ya.” He extended a dirt-encrusted hand.

  She slapped it away and dragged her aching body to a standing position. Luther held all the cards. He wouldn’t kill her, yet, but he’d have no reservations about seeing her beaten. If she couldn’t walk, she couldn’t escape.

  “I knew you’d see it my way.” Luther stood by and watched her struggle, a small smile playing on his lips.

  She crossed the short distance and fell into the chair. The pain in her chest wasn’t as bad now that she had started to move.

  If Spider was here, then the man who’d practically squeezed her to death was probably onboard as well. She scanned the room, trying to minimize her movements.

  Spider stood in the corner, smirking, but aside from Luther, there was no one else in the cabin. Only two? The rest were probably up top. Once Luther and his henchman left, she could retrieve her knife. And then what?

  Luther moved in front of her. All she could see were the crystal buttons on his waistcoat. He grabbed her chin, tilting her head up. His gaze bored into hers for a long moment. Melancholy gave his perfect features an almost poetic aura.

  “Why couldn’t you have loved me? It would have been so much easier.” He reached down and brushed a curl off her cheek with his other hand. “I had cleared the way for us, just as Mother suggested.”

  She had to keep him talking until she could figure out what he was planning. “What do you mean ‘cleared the way’?”

  He dropped his hands, stepped away from her and gave a slight shrug. “Your father and grandfather had to go. You understand that, don’t you?”

  A core of cold fury formed inside of her. Could Luther have had something to do with their deaths? Half of her wanted to ask him, the other half wanted to get as far away from this moment as possible. Her voice came out in a whisper. “What have you done?”

  “You already know. Thieves were hired to kill your father, but by me. Spider almost didn’t make it back.” Luther raised an eyebrow in his companion’s direction. “Worthington gave him the scar on his forehead as a reminder not to be careless.”

  Rage filled Alex. A good, clean rage that kept her from falling apart at the knowledge she’d lost all she’d held dear because of this one man and his minion.

  She wanted them both dead.

  The strength of the compulsion surprised her. She’d never before wanted to kill another human being. The knife sheath was now a weight between her shoulders. She clenched her hands to keep from reaching for it. At this distance, she could kill one, but not both. Spider would be on her before she had the chance to retrieve her blade.

  “And how did you kill my grandfather?” Her voice was as raw as the emotions rasping over her soul.

  “Lord Lochsdale’s death was his own fault.” Luther gave a slight shrug. “I tried to convince him of the
advantages of a match between us.” He shot her a reproving look and shook out the lace at his cuff. “You didn’t help. If you’d shown some interest, he never would have had his accident.”

  “Why did his horse throw him?” She didn’t really want to know, but she needed something to focus on other than the compelling urge to stick a knife in the man.

  “Snakes. It’s amazing how skittish horses seem to be around them. I find reptiles fascinating. Have you ever considered the sensuality in their languid movement?” He pulled out his snuffbox, inhaled a pinch, then dabbed at his nose.

  “But I digress. You’ll be glad to know your grandfather didn’t die right away. He asked about you.” Luther’s dry laugh filled the tiny cabin. “For some reason he was concerned for your welfare. I tried to assure him I’d take care of you, but...he got excited. I’m afraid I had to put a stop to his ravings.”

  Luther’s matter-of-fact tone made it clear that killing held no horror for him. Unless she found some means of escape, he’d have no regrets about seeing her dead. Of course, he didn’t dare hurt her yet. She had time. But could she endure days and nights with her family’s killer? Her mind refused to accept the possibility.

  Where was Declan? Was he truly on his way to Scotland?

  She reached for her bracelet. It, too, was missing. She glanced down, loss and anger blending. Luther met her gaze when she looked up, a triumphant smirk on his face. Raising her chin, she squared her shoulders and refused to drop his gaze.

  A calm settled over her. Declan wouldn’t be fooled by Luther’s ploy. He’d come for her. He had to.

  Luther bent down and took her chin between his thumb and index finger, his face inches from hers. “So you see, I’ve gone to a great deal of trouble for us to be together.”

  She gathered what moisture she could and spit. The thin saliva sprayed across the side of his face.

  He stiffened, his light blue eyes reminding her of pieces of steel. With very deliberate movements, he straightened and jerked a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the spittle from his cheek. “Tie her arms behind her back.”

  Spider grabbed her from behind, yanked her from the chair, and dragged her to the bed. She tried to break his hold by kicking backward, but he dodged her blows. He was quick, but not very strong. If her body hadn’t taken such a beating earlier, she probably could have broken free.

  He wrenched her arms behind her back and tied her tightly, then bent to whisper in her ear. “Yer in fer it now, miss high an’ mighty. Mind, if yer real good, he might let you live.” He fondled her backside out of view of Luther. “Did you know he lets me hav’ his entertainments after he’s broke ‘em in proper?”

  She shuddered.

  “That’s enough, Spider.” Luther removed his coat and retrieved a knife from the chest.

  She recognized her blade.

  Luther joined them. “Leave us. It’s time my cousin and I became better acquainted.”

  Spider gave one last knowing smile and scurried from the room.

  After the door closed, she turned to Luther. His hand shot out and knocked her to the bunk. She lay on her back, arms beneath her, looking up at him. It was best not to move. She guessed he wanted a struggle. If she could just free her hands, she could get at her knife.

  He positioned himself between her legs where they dangled over the side of the bed. Running his finger up and down the knife’s edge, he gave a slight nod.

  “Sharp. I approve.” He stilled his movements and studied her, his face pensive. Very slowly he started to tap the tip of the knife to his chin, as if debating some deep mystery. “Now we come to an interesting dilemma.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, his speech matter-of-fact. “I intended to teach you some respect, then rid myself of you. Permanently. But what if King George doesn’t sign my petition?”

  He reached down, sliced the cord holding her shirt together at the neck, then ran the tip of the blade between her breasts. The cut stung and a red trail welled up, but the scratch wasn’t enough to cause serious injury. He was toying with her. Testing the limits of her pain.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  If he wanted a reaction, he wouldn’t get one. She wouldn’t be his amusement. Nothing felt real. It was as if she wasn’t a participant in this bizarre scene, merely an observer.

  Luther reached down and cupped her breast, twisting her nipple through the thin silk. The pain forced her to draw away from him, but he shoved her down with the other hand, and placed the knife under her chin.

  After a squeeze of her breast that made her grit her teeth, he let go, then leaned over and cupped her cheek with his hand. The cold blue of his eyes, so close, sent tendrils of apprehension through her. His voice was soft, melodic and warm where it played on her face.

  “My proud cousin. Everyone has a gift.” He ran his fingertips along her cheekbone. “Mine is instilling fear. You’ll never know whether our time together will bring pain or pleasure.”

  He traced the tip of the knife just under her chin. She tried to turn her head, but he pressed the weapon into her skin, cutting a path to her jawbone. Warm blood oozed along her neck.

  “Shall we get started?”

  Chapter 23

  “Is it sure you are this is the only way?” Morgan gazed at the mooring cable closest to them and craned his neck to find the spot where it disappeared into The Merry Elizabeth. He cast Declan a worried look. “I’d not be wanting to fish your broken body out of the water.”

  “There’s no other option.” Declan gave his friend a smile he hoped appeared more assuring than he felt. Damn, he hated heights. “You just make sure the men are ready to cross the gangplank when I’ve taken care of the watch.”

  “What if they’re ready for you?”

  “If Catrina’s information is correct, they won’t be.”

  “Don’t go picking a fight without me. I’m not happy to be depending on the word of that banshee.”

  “Neither am I, but we don’t have a choice. Judging by the loose rigging and tilting yards, I’d say someone other than Paddy is in control of the ship.” He studied the brooding wooden vessel overhead. “Alex is here. I can feel it.”

  The early morning mist concealed them as they huddled behind crates and barrels on the dew-slicked dock. The predawn stillness, broken only by the rhythmic sound of water slapping against the hull, contrasted with his rapid heartbeat.

  He waved to his cousin a short distance away. Bradford, flanked by two others, turned and walked into the swirling white fog. He gave them a couple of minutes to position themselves at the head of the dock. Addington might try to slip by them, but he’d find no escape by land.

  “It’s time.” With a last glance at Morgan, he crept to the edge of the wharf, attempting to stay in the shadows. He scanned the ship for any sign of movement, but aside from the men at the entry port, all was quiet.

  The mooring cable felt rough as he yanked it to verify how securely it had been lashed to the pier. He worked quickly, taking shallow breaths, as the stench of fish, garbage, and God knew what else drifted up to him.

  His rapier banged against his thigh as he drew himself, hand over hand, up the heavy rope. Raw patches developed on his palms as the hemp fibers dug into his flesh. He wished for the calluses he’d developed eight years ago and cursed silently as the wounds came into contact with the salt-encrusted cable.

  At any moment one of the watch might look toward the stern of the ship. Caution warred with the need for speed. If he fell now, he’d either drop the thirty feet to the water or break his fall on one of the fenders holding the ship from the dock. He didn’t relish either option.

  His hands cramped. He needed to finish this. Now. With a final burst of energy, he crossed the last five feet and hauled himself over the rail. He lay there for a moment, attempting to get his bearings in the dim light. A small boat nestled against the railing to his left with the bulk of the quarterdeck in front of him.

  With soundless movements, he gave the dingy a
wide berth. Livestock were often kept in crates aboard the small boats. It wouldn’t do to alarm the animals.

  Clad in a black shirt, breeches, and heel-less leather boots, he blended into the shadows. Working his way around the horse block, he came to the wheel. The companionway blocked his path and beyond that, the ladders were partially obscured in the early morning mist. Masts and ropes stuck out of the swirling white like trees long dead in a swamp.

  He fought the impulse to rush down one of the ladders. Alex was most likely being held in the captain’s cabin below him. The need to see her, alive and well, overcame him.

  His brave Alex might push Addington too far. The man wasn’t sane. He might decide to kill her without confirmation of his success with the petition.

  What would he do if Addington harmed her? He swallowed. Even the possibility she might be dead tore at him, like a crow with its prey.

  So this was the kind of emotional torture his father had endured. For the first time, he understood what his father had gone through. He could almost forgive the man. Almost.

  In the last few minutes, the mist had become less substantial. Urgency propelled him forward. Keeping low, he scooted around coils of rope, eyebolts, and barrels, then positioned himself next to the mainmast fife rail and peered down to the main deck. Three men stood at the entry port. A hulking giant, a short, stocky man with a cap pulled low over his forehead and, a small, wiry individual with a whiny voice that carried up to Declan.

  “I just left ‘im. I tell ya, she’s in fore it. Ain’t never seen old cold-eyes riled.” The glee in the man’s voice made him want to climb down and shake the bastard, the way a dog would a rat.

  The man with the cap shrugged. “Right sorry to hear that. She’s a purty little thing, but I finds it best not to mix in the doin’s of the nobility. Ye might want to remember that.”

  “Yer just afeared of him. Me an’ Lord Addington hav’ an understandin’.” The wiry man puffed out his chest and jerked his head at the quiet giant. “Com’ on, Pete. We don’ need no lecture by the likes o’ him.”