Abandoned Memories

by Marylu Tyndall

  “And leave your son to die, you gruesome beast!” Magnolia started to rise, but Eliza forced her down.

  “There is nothing I can do about that, map or no.” Patrick brushed sand from his shoulder. “In battle there are sacrifices to be made.”

  Shoving past Blake, James slugged the man across the jaw.

  Patrick’s head swerved, blood squirting from his nose. Firelight reflected flames of hell in his eyes as he righted himself and charged James. But it was Dodd, this time, who blocked the assault. “We will give you the maps. I could not bear it should the lady die.” Thrusting his hand down one leg of his trousers, he plucked a wrinkled but carefully folded paper from inside what must be a secret pocket, and handed it to James. He jerked his head toward Patrick. “His are sewn into the back of his waistcoat.”

  Blake and James tore off the man’s embroidered vest before he could protest.

  “Of all the—! You have no right!” Patrick wailed. “This is thievery!”

  Ripping the silk fabric, Blake pulled out two pieces of paper. Patrick, face erupting in rage, started for the colonel. James shoved him aside. He caught his balance and yanked his ruined vest from Blake’s hands. “Thieves! The lot of you!”

  Ignoring him, Blake nodded at James. “Let’s go rescue Hayden and Angeline.”

  Captain Ricu shoved Angeline onto the bed and then plopped in a chair to remove his boots. It was the fourth time he’d entered the cabin since he’d locked her inside. His cabin, the captain’s cabin, she deduced from the size and lavish furnishings. Each time he’d returned, the stink of alcohol was stronger, his eyes more glazed, his threats more insidious. Yet each time she thought he would ravish her, each time he pinned her to the bed and started to rip her bodice, he’d shoved away and stormed out in a groan of frustration.

  She didn’t know how much more terror she could stand. Hours of pacing, fearing the worst, followed by minutes of horror when it seemed he would attack her, only to have the cycle start all over again. He was either completely mad, incapable of performing, or perhaps he actually had a heart beneath all that glittery bravado. She opted for the first one. Part of her wished he’d get it over with and then toss her to the sharks. What was one whore worth, after all?

  Not much, according to Miss Lucia, who, when Angeline had begged for a few nights off a week, had responded with, “Honey, you’re comely of face and figure to be sure, but I can find a dozen girls just as pretty to replace you if you’d rather go back on the street again and starve.”

  The woman’s voice had been so casual and amiable as she sauntered about the upstairs parlor, long cheroot in hand, that Angeline hadn’t felt the true impact of her words for several seconds. When she did, her heart crumbled in her chest. The woman Angeline had come to care for as a mother had just told her she was replaceable.

  Replaceable and expendable.

  Ricu tugged off one boot and tossed it aside. Darkness coated the stern windows and squeezed the last of Angeline’s hope from her heart. This time, the pirate would follow through with his threats. He removed his other boot and stood. Chest heaving, she braced herself against the ratty mattress. Lantern light oscillated over the fiend and shimmered off the jeweled pins scattered across the vest he now removed and pitched onto his desk.

  She swallowed and wondered how Hayden fared. Once they had stepped on board, he’d been quickly dragged below. He’d cast one last glance at her over his shoulder, an attempt, no doubt, to reassure her, but all she saw was fear in his eyes. Though the thought of hanging terrified her, she envied Hayden his quick release from this earth. Her fate at the hands of this lecherous swine would be far worse.

  That swine now wobbled before her, a lustful gleam in his eyes. Hair as black as night curled around his face and hung past his shoulders. Mighty shoulders. Thick shoulders that could subdue her without effort—that had no doubt subdued many women before her.

  “Ah, you and me, we have good time, eh?” he muttered.

  The ship rolled over a wave. He stumbled to the left. Took his eyes off her for a moment. Angeline flew from the bed to the other side of the cabin, avoiding the urge to open the door and run. Better to deal with one pirate than dozens. Dear God, if You’re there… she began but then realized God would not be concerned with a prostitute getting ravished.

  Ricu whirled about and grinned. “You wish to play chase?” He rubbed his hands together and took a step toward her.

  “I wish for you to leave me alone.”

  “But I am Captain Ricu!” he bellowed, brows dipped as if he could not fathom such a thing. “I take what I want when I want.” He staggered toward her.

  Angeline darted behind the oak desk. Her eyes grazed over the silk handkerchief she’d seen there earlier, so delicate and out of place among the stained maps and rusty nautical instruments, and so different from the stack of common white handkerchiefs sitting beside it. An idea formed. Picking up the cloth, she waved it in the air. Ricu halted and stared at it as if an angel appeared before him. Sorrow melted the glee from his features.

  Angeline forced calm into her voice. “Who gave this to you, Captain? A lady friend, perhaps?” She drew it to her nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance of gardenias and lilac, then ran her fingers over the silk embroidered initials, AMV. There could be only two reasons a pirate would have such a thing. One, he’d stolen it from a woman he’d assaulted, or two, a woman he loved gave it to him as a remembrance. Angeline prayed it was the latter. And from the look on his face, she was right.

  He snagged it from her grip, his angry scowl softening with its touch.

  “Who is she?” Angeline dared to ask.

  He ran his thick jeweled thumb over the initials. “Abelena Martinez y Vicario,” he replied, still staring at the cloth as if he could materialize the woman from its fabric. “From Santa Domingo.”

  Angeline allowed a tiny smile. Inconceivable as it was, this beast, this pirate was in love! Completely mad but definitely in love. She thought of James. Perhaps insanity and love went hand in hand.

  “She must love you very much to have given you such a personal gift.”

  Growling, Ricu marched to shelves built into the bulkhead. He grabbed a bottle, uncorked it, and tipped it to his lips. Angeline inched to the other side of the desk, as far away from this volatile man as she could get.

  “Where is she now?” she asked, trying to settle her thrashing heart, desperate to say the right words to keep this man at bay.

  He took another swig. “Home. Her father say I not have enough wealth to marry her.”

  “So that is why you need the gold?”

  Without warning, he tossed the bottle across the room. It struck the door and shattered on the deck in a dozen glassy shards. Brandy dripped down the wood as the pungent smell filled the room. Angeline’s heart crashed into her ribs. She swallowed and dared to glance his way, fearing he intended to toss her next. But his face had softened again.

  “I get gold. Be very rich.” He flung hair over his shoulder and swaggered toward her, his glazed eyes scanning her like a lion would its prey.

  Angeline must think fast. “Would she want you to ravish women?” she blurted out.

  He halted. “She will not know.”

  “She will know—deep down.” Angeline placed a hand on her heart. “If she’s a proper lady, she’ll perceive the goodness of your heart. You cannot hide that from her. If she’s a good, decent lady, the gold won’t matter. It’s your character, your heart that will please her most.”

  He cocked his head and gave her a quizzical look as if the thought had never occurred to him.

  “She won’t want to marry a murderer. She won’t want to marry a man who hurts women.”

  He let out a loud belch and fisted his hands at his waist, studying her as if she were some freakish animal he’d never seen before.

  Angeline lifted her chin, trying her best not to behave as frightened as she felt. “That is why you couldn’t touch me all night. You love her, and you
know she would be displeased.”

  “You not know her.”

  “But you do. Would she want your gold if she knew how you came by it?”

  He fingered the dark whiskers crowning his chin. “But I am a pirate. It is what I do.”

  “Perhaps it’s time to find another profession.”

  Turning, he gripped the edges of his desk and stared out the stern windows. Water purled against the hull. The deck tilted. Wood creaked and the lantern squeaked on its hinge as seconds counted down to her fate.

  “Then I let my men have you.” He pushed from his desk and started for the door.

  Angeline’s breath fled her lungs. “That would be the same thing as ravishing me yourself!”

  He spun around, his brow wrinkled. “Not same. I get no pleasure from it!”

  “But you would be allowing it, don’t you see?” She took a step toward him. “It’s the heart that must change first, proven by your actions.”

  He shook his head and kicked a broken piece of glass aside. “My crew will not understand.”

  “But you are their captain. They listen to you. They obey you. Unless of course”—she shrugged—“they do not respect your authority.”

  “Of course they respect!” He stretched his neck as if trying to make himself larger. Angeline allowed herself a tiny smile. This man may be a murderous, raping, deranged pirate, but he had an Achilles’ heel. A woman named Abelena Martinez y Vicario. A woman who, even from a distance, could quite possibly save them all.

  “And the man you have on board. You can’t hang him either,” Angeline said pointedly.

  He suddenly looked like a young lad who’d just been told he wouldn’t be receiving gifts at Christmas.

  “Hayden was only protecting his lady when he came on your ship and fought you. Wouldn’t you do the same for your Senorita Vicario?”

  His gaze lowered to the handkerchief still clenched in his hand.

  “If I not kill him, I look weak.”

  “If you do kill him, you will look weak to your lady. If you really want to change, Captain Ricu, you must start now.” Please start now! her thoughts screamed above the blood pounding in her head. “Find your gold. Keep your men focused on that, and leave us be. That will show your lady your true heart.”

  “Humph.” He fingered the handkerchief for several seconds, his thoughts taking him elsewhere. No doubt to his memories of this Spanish lady who dared to love a pirate.

  A knock on the door startled him from his daze. He approached her and before she could stop him, clutched the fringe of her neckline and ripped her bodice down the front. Buttons shot to the ground like scattered seeds. Angeline leapt back, heart in her throat, wondering how she could have misread the man.

  He shoved her onto the bed. She closed her eyes. Boot steps thumped. The door squeaked open. And a blast of salty air swept over her.

  A man addressed the captain and said something in Portuguese. Angeline opened her eyes to see a sailor leering at her from the entrance. The captain replied then slammed the door in his face.

  He turned and grinned. “Your people give me maps.”

  C

  HAPTER 19

  James’s worst fears became reality when, escorted by two rather rank-smelling pirates, he, Blake, Patrick, and Dodd stepped into Captain Ricu’s cabin. Angeline sat trembling on the man’s bed, gripping pieces of her shredded bodice to her throat. Her violet eyes lifted to his, and a hint of a smile graced her lips—which didn’t make any sense at all. He dashed her way and pulled her into his arms. She fell against him with a ragged sigh as unavoidable visions of what the pirate had done to her screamed through his thoughts. Nudging her back, he marched toward Captain Ricu who stood behind his desk, arms crossed over his bejeweled vest and a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. James could get one punch in, maybe two, before the pirates could stop him. After that, he didn’t care.

  “You will pay for—”

  Angeline pulled him back and shook her head, her eyes filled with warning, her expression telling him all was well. But how could that be?

  “Pay for what, little puppy?” Ricu chuckled.

  Blake stepped between James and the pirate. “The woman returns with us.”

  Ricu snorted and waved his hand at her in dismissal. “Take her. I am done.”

  Growling, James tried to shove Blake aside, but once again Angeline’s gentle touch drew him back.

  Still clutching torn fabric to her throat, she leaned toward him and whispered, “He did not touch me, James.”

  He scanned her once more for any cuts or bruises. What remained of her pins could not contain the tumble of russet hair falling past her shoulders. Her skin was flushed, shadows clung to her eyes, but otherwise she appeared unscathed. He removed his shirt and flung it around her shoulders. She thanked him and buttoned it up then sat back down on the bed, refusing to look at him.

  Was she lying? Trying to keep him from getting killed in an altercation with Ricu? He wouldn’t put it past the sweet lady. But at least she was alive. That’s what mattered now. And getting her back to camp.

  Taking a protective stance beside her, James turned his attention to Captain Ricu, who was demanding to see the maps and eyeing Blake, Dodd, and Patrick as if they were cockroaches who dared to crawl into his cabin. At his nod, the chime of metal on metal echoed off the bulkheads as three crusty pirates drew swords and aimed them at the intruders. Ricu opened his palm and gave a grin of victory.

  Withdrawing the papers from his vest pocket, Blake tossed them on the desk. “No need for that, Captain. We will comply.” Minutes passed as Captain Ricu carefully unfolded each map and laid them side by side on the desk. Out the stern windows, a murky ribbon of gray burst on the horizon as the sun attempted to rise on the macabre scene. Shadows of light and dark from the lantern above swayed over the four aged maps as everyone—even the pirates—inched closer for a better look.

  Finally Ricu pointed a long black fingernail at the maps and declared, “These maps are forestries! They make no sense.” He spat something in Portuguese, which was no doubt a curse.

  “Forgeries,” Dodd corrected.

  Slapping both palms on his desk, the pirate leaned toward Dodd, his black hair dangling in twisted curls over the maps. “You try trick Captain Ricu!” One of his crew pressed the tip of his sword in Dodd’s back.

  Dodd’s face blanched. “No, I was just correcting…repeating—”

  “Captain, if I may,” Patrick intervened. “These maps are genuine, I assure you. In fact”—he straightened his string tie and put on a superior look—“I know the secret to translating them, and if you are willing to bargain—”

  The captain laughed, a disbelieving laugh that ricocheted off the deckhead. “Who are you to know such secrets?”

  Patrick lifted his chin. “Why I—”

  “Our deal was only the maps,” Blake interrupted. “We have delivered them. And now we demand you leave us and our colony be.”

  “Demand!” Ricu gave a hearty chuckle, his pirates joining in. But then with a snap of his finger, his men silenced, and fury overtook his features. “No one demand Captain Ricu.”

  “But there’s gold. I know there’s gold,” Dodd began to whine. “I got my map from a very reliable source. Paid good money for it. And he”—he thumbed toward Patrick—“has figured out how to read them.” He picked up one map and placed it atop the other. “You see, you have to bend—ouch!” Dodd glared at Patrick who settled his foot back onto the rolling deck.

  Ricu slapped Dodd’s hand away. “No touch maps.” Then, opening a drawer, he pulled out a bottle of amber-colored liquid, took a long draught, capped it, and slammed it on the desk before he glared at Patrick. “You tell me secret now.”

  Patrick fingered his goatee, his lips slabs of stone.

  At the snap of Ricu’s jeweled fingers, one of his men leveled a blade at Patrick’s back. The normally composed man’s eyes began to twitch.

  The ship teetered over an inco
ming wave, creaking and groaning. While the rest of them stumbled to keep their balance, the captain stood, arms crossed over the trinkets shining on his waistcoat, like a statue of some Greek god demanding worship.

  “I am Captain Ricu, and I take what I want when I want.” Eyes as dark and hot as coals measured each one of them like a judge deciding a prisoner’s fate. He rubbed the handle of a pistol stuffed in his belt, and James wondered if the captain was trying to decide who to shoot first. He knew they had nothing to bargain with. Pirates were notorious torturers, and James was sure Patrick or Dodd would sing like birds at the mere threat of such measures. He was also sure the captain knew that as well.

  “Captain, we will gladly share our knowledge of these maps as long as you promise not to harm any of us and release Angeline and Hayden,” James put forth.

  For once Patrick didn’t protest. Though it may have had something to do with the blade jabbing his back.

  The creak and moan of timbers marked the unbearable passage of time as the mad pirate considered James’s proposal. Or perhaps he was merely deciding the most painful way to kill them all. Golden sunlight cast an amber halo around Ricu’s dark curls. Plucking a handkerchief from his desk, he wiped his face and neck, his gaze assessing each one of them in turn. Finally, he grinned and waved the cloth through the air. “I agree. You”—he pointed toward Patrick—“tell us how to read maps.” He gestured for his man to lower his blade.

  Patrick released a breath. “And what do I get in return?”

  Ricu gave an incredulous huff. “Your lives.”

  “We accept,” Blake and James said in unison.

  Standing knee deep in water, James extended both arms toward Angeline. “May I?”

  She knew he intended to carry her from the small boat, but just the thought of being held in those powerful arms, nestled beside that powerful chest, sent warning bells off in her heart. It was bad enough James had rescued her once again—along with the others—but then the man had gone and stripped to his bare chest in an effort to preserve her modesty. No man had ever wanted to preserve her modesty. Quite the opposite, in fact.