The Prince's Bride

by Joanne Wadsworth

  Lifting his telescope to his eye for the hundredth time that day, he once again searched for any sign of the ship he chased. Abreast of him where she had clean wind, Adrestia too held her scope to her eye, their two ships slicing through the waves side by side.

  Under a warm blue sky with only a streak of white cloud hazing the horizon, his sister brought her ship closer then handed the wheel to her first mate. In soft rawhide breeches and a white tunic, clothing she always wore while captaining her ship, his sister gripped the rail on the upper deck and called, “How are you?”

  “Angry. Determined. Frustrated.” Tension thrummed through him as he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck and tried to ease some of the stiffness and the strain the past ten days of being without Olivia had caused him. His head hurt with how much he’d been thinking about her, while his heart had become an aching, endless, screaming pit of pain. His need to see her, to hold her, to keep her safe in his embrace was a fierce desire that couldn’t be contained.

  Do you love her? His sister’s words from that fateful night when Bruno had kidnapped Olivia filled his head.

  I’d be a fool to fall in love with any woman.

  A damned fool. Not only did danger lurk for those closest to him, but he feared ever telling her the truth about who he truly was.

  “I need to keep a lookout,” he called to Adrestia and with his scope back at his eye, he narrowed his gaze and—was that a sail in the distance? He turned the wheel a touch and adjusted his course, Adrestia doing the same, his sister clearly spotting the same sail.

  Gritting his teeth, he waited and waited as long hours passed, until finally he’d made enough ground on the ship to uncover more through his scope. A flag flew from the top of the ship’s mizzenmast—the British flag. The Venture was a British ship. A few passengers strolled the deck, ladies with parasols raised and gentleman offering their arm, hats atop their heads. The crew worked the rigging. Definitely a commuter ship. He focused his scope on the solid paneling of the ship’s stern, right between the high curved scrollwork cresting the top and the long run of square-cut windows in the center. In an elegant script blazed the ship’s name—The Venture.

  Fierce emotions roared through him. Olivia was so close.

  He lowered his scope, his entire body shuddering with need, the venomous hiss of the cobra deep within him lifting its head as he prepared to strike.

  Chapter 16

  Grasping the yellow skirts of the gown she’d borrowed from Violet’s traveling trunk at the end of the bed they’d both slept in these past ten days, Olivia paced the confines of their prison. Overhead, the golden glow of the candlelit lamps swayed light into the darkened corners, the hour now close to midnight. Day eleven was about to begin. Violet sat on the corner bench seat under the cabin window with her embroidery in hand and a reel of vibrant turquoise cotton rolling back and forth across the dark yellow squabs, the rocking of the ship as endless as their tortuous time at sea had been.

  When they’d sailed past Gibraltar a few days ago and crossed into the Mediterranean, land had been visible out their port window for a short time. Now, only the endless night-shrouded blue of the sea with its white-tipped waves washed in a silvery hue under the moonlight, spread for as far as the eye could see.

  “Why don’t you come and embroider with me? Your angel tapestry is taking wonderful form. I’m looking forward to seeing it all complete. I’m sure your mama will love it.” Violet held out the embroidery kit which she’d been working on during the long days of their confinement. She’d wanted to recreate a piece of her time with Anteros, so she’d stitched the angel sculpture from Grace Hall and the garden bed surrounding it. She’d told Violet all about her family, Mama and her brothers and sisters, while Violet had shared stories about her late mother and grandparents in return.

  She eased onto the bench seat next to her friend, rested a hand on Violet’s hand as she stitched. “I’m not sure what I would have done without you these past ten days.”

  “You haven’t exactly had a choice but to accept my company.” A teasing twinkle lit Violet’s eyes, her way of lightening the mood. “How does your cheek feel?”

  “It’s healed, and my bruises are beginning to fade.” She’d been covered in them, a motley number spread in various places. Bruno had certainly hurt her while she’d been out of it, but at least she’d retained very little memory of that time, other than for the odd flash of recall in between the time she’d been taken and then meeting Violet. “Once we reach land, which can’t be far away, we must do whatever we can to escape Bruno.”

  “We will both kick and scream until we can get away from him.” A firm nod from Violet. “Then we flee to my late father’s palazzo, my palazzo now. I have the address, and coin tucked away in my pocket.”

  They’d both agreed they must be ready to run with only the clothing they had on them, which meant sleeping fully clothed at night, slippers on their feet too.

  A knock rattled the door then the scrape of the key turned in the lock. Bruno ducked his head under the low doorframe as he entered. Twice a day, he allowed the young Portuguese maid on board—who unfortunately spoke not a word of English—to bring them their morning and evening meals. Never did he remain with them for long though, other than to gloat and smirk at his ingeniousness. Since he’d visited twice already today, this third visit was most unusual.

  She rose to her feet, her hands fisted at her sides. “Why are you gracing us with your despicable presence once again this day?”

  “It appears your dour mood never lifts.” His gaze dropped to the low neckline of her gown, a greediness flickering in his beady black eyes which made her skin crawl.

  “If you touch me again...” He’d tried the second day they’d been out at sea, but Violet had tossed the basin of water on him, then picked up a chair to swing next. Bruno had backed away, but not without sending her a perverted look which made her itch with revulsion.

  “We have two more days at sea, possibly less if the winds continue to remain favorable. Palermo first, then we’ll hire a sailboat to cross the short distance to Paradiso.” He leaned against the closed door, removed a flask hooked to his belt, uncorked it and swigged a mouthful of whatever foul brew he kept in it.

  “How long have you served your liege?” Whenever she could, she tried to glean more information about King Ferdinand from him, not that Bruno was very forthcoming with information. All she’d gotten so far was uncommitted grunts here and there. Even when she’d asked outright if Anteros was in fact the king’s son, he’d not answered her. That didn’t matter. She and Violet both firmly believed Anteros was after they’d pieced together all the information. Anteros had clearly kept his identity a secret, for years and years, those around him keeping it too.

  “I know your opinion of me.” Bruno held her gaze. “You believe I have a rotten black soul for having torn you away from your loved ones.”

  “No, I don’t believe you have a soul at all.”

  “Anteros will soon be speaking vows with another lady.” He curled one corner of his lips up. “You’d best accept that.”

  “The other lady is but a girl of sixteen,” Violet stated as she made a move from the squabs.

  “You two are in league, I see.” He glared from Violet to her.

  She raised a hand to halt her friend from venturing any closer to Bruno. Ensuring she continued the ruse Anteros had asked of her was all-important, so she added, “Anteros never breaks his word. He and I will soon speak vows and I will be his wife. He holds no affection for the archduchess.”

  “Captain Bourbon will submit to his father’s will, otherwise he’ll be forcing you to suffer the consequences of his actions. Above all else, the captain is a man who protects the innocent. I left him a letter before carting you away, ensuring he knew your life was at stake.”

  “You are an insufferable beast.”

  “When we reach Paradiso, I intend on teaching you a better way of using your swift tongue.” He grippe
d his crotch and gave it a yank.

  “Get out of here.” She jabbed a finger at the door.

  Boom!

  The door shattered into pieces, the vessel tilting sharply.

  She got thrown and hit the floor, Bruno slamming down on top of her.

  “Go Violet. Get out of here,” she wheezed from underneath Bruno’s heavy weight.

  “No, I’m not leaving without you.” Violet stumbled across, yanked at Bruno’s legs and tried to drag him off her. “Help me push.”

  The ship listed further. Passengers screamed from the companionway. A hole now lay where the door had been. Olivia heaved and Bruno rolled off and thumped onto the floor. Blood oozed from a spear of wood sticking out of his side. He moaned, and she scrambled clear, grasped Violet’s hand and staggered into the smoking mess along the passageway.

  Bruno’s bellow echoed from behind them.

  An officer herded them and other passengers toward the stairs. “We’re under attack from corsairs. Everyone to starboard. Passengers will be loaded onto the boats.”

  She and Violet rushed upstairs, jostling to get there faster. They coughed and spluttered as they reached the deck. Acrid smoke clouded everywhere. Rubble littered the foredeck. Sailors scurried about as they fed the cannons. The captain bellowed orders from the helm. Sheer mayhem ensued as she held tight to Violet’s hand.

  “Incoming,” one of the crew yelled from the crow’s nest.

  “Get down.” The officer close behind them pushed her and Violet to the deck and covered them.

  A ball hit near the mizzenmast and blasted boards everywhere, a hole opening up in the deck to the floor below.

  A seventy-gun warship slammed into their side and corsairs wearing strips of leather knotted through their hair tossed grappling hooks onto the masts and swung on board with a thunderous battle cry. Leery grins, blackened teeth, curved swords, thick beards, dirks flying.

  The officer heaved to his feet, brandished his saber and launched at the corsair bearing down on them. The pirate ducked low and swung hard at the officer. Blood splattered, their protector hitting the ground with a sickening thud, his gut sliced open.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  This had to be a nightmare.

  Surely she’d awaken any moment and—

  The corsair’s dark shadow fell over her and Violet, his leather vest shredded at the hem, a gold tooth gleaming and spittle flying from his mouth. “You two will fetch a pretty penny at the souk in Algiers.”

  Another officer bounded toward them with his saber raised and the pirate heaved his curved blade high. The two men fought, steel clanging loud against steel. A fire blazed, a mast crashing to the deck and the crow’s nest toppling with a shuddering crash. More shouts.

  The battle filled the air. So too did screams from the passengers. Many jumped over the side. She clutched Violet closer, hugging her, her friend’s face streaked with soot. “We have to get off this ship. Can you swim, Violet?”

  The ship tilted farther and seawater gushed in.

  “Yes, but not in this gown,” Violet yelled over the howling wind and the violence of the battle.

  “Then we strip to our undergarments.” She tore at the front fastenings of her gown, while Violet did the same, seawater now up to their knees.

  In naught but her shift, she scrambled onto the top rail of the sinking ship, seized Violet’s hand and jumped over the side. They hit the icy water with a scream, then went down, down and down. Turbulent waters surged all around. Kicking, they both pushed back to the surface. Crashing waves tossed them about, shoving them farther from the burning vessel.

  A cry from Violet as she jabbed a finger to the west. “Look, two more vessels approach.”

  Two ninety-gun warships cut through the moonlit dark, both firing upon the corsairs’ seventy-gun frigate. From the mizzenmasts of both vessels flew flags with a hissing snake. “Anteros and Adrestia are here,” she screamed to Violet.

  “Oh my word.” Violet’s face went pale under the streaky soot.

  Armed men from both Anteros and Adrestia’s warships swung across to the sinking ship, Giovani and Anteros leading the raid.

  “Anteros!” She yelled his name, but her cry got lost in the whistling wind rushing all about.

  On the foredeck, Anteros and Giovani fought side by side, both clashing with the corsairs intent on attacking and raiding.

  Another fierce battle cry. Bruno charged through the smoke and chaos, one hand clutching his bleeding side and the other his saber. Anteros met him head-on, swung and caught Bruno’s blade dead center. A blur of movement, the two of them battling hard. Anteros lunged and parried, blocking each of Bruno’s strikes, then one jarring hit from Bruno had Anteros falling back. He splashed into the water on deck, shoved to his feet and bounded forward.

  Anteros ducked another of Bruno’s blows then slammed into Bruno and shoved him toward the blazing inferno. Bruno went down with a roar. Anteros stared down at him, said something, then swung. Bruno’s head flew from his shoulders and she gagged. Such a violent death.

  Anteros bellowed her name, his shouts echoing across the waves as he searched the deck for her. Again she yelled, and this time he jerked a look toward her and—

  He sheathed his blade and dove over the rail, Giovani diving right into the swell after him. The water swallowed both men whole, then her captain emerged and cut through the waves. He swam and grabbed her around the waist, worry and fear slashing his face. “Are you all right?”

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” She stared into his piercing sapphire eyes. “How did you—”

  “I’ve been searching for you since Bruno stole you away.” He firmed his hold on her, the current twisting and turning them all around.

  She gulped in great drafts of air. “Please, tell me I’m not dreaming. You are a sight to behold.”

  “You’re not dreaming, Amore. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten to you far sooner.” He cupped the back of her head and drew her closer against him, his dark hair floating around his neck as he treaded water for them both.

  “You truly are real.” His body was solid, his flesh warm, and his hold gloriously tight. She snatched his shirtfront as over his shoulder, the ship she’d been held hostage on for the past week and a half sank below the water, a wave washing out and the corsairs who’d attacked now swimming back to their pirate ship.

  “Let’s get these ladies on board,” Anteros commanded Giovani who had clasped Violet’s waist and currently aided her in staying afloat.

  Giovani held Violet tight as he kicked them both toward Anteros’s ship, Anteros keeping one firm arm around her waist as he cut a fast path directly behind the others.

  They made the ship and Giovani and Violet got hauled on board. Cheers erupted from Anteros’s men, while Adrestia sobbed as she tried to reach over the side for her. “Reach for my hand, Olivia.”

  “You’re next.” Anteros boosted her upward and Adrestia and Giovani both caught her hands and tugged her on board. She got swamped in Adrestia’s hold, her friend squeezing the life out of her, Wills suddenly appearing in between them and hugging her too. She hugged Wills back, tears blurring her own eyes. Anteros climbed the rope and swung over the railing behind her, his booted feet thumping on the deck. He pulled her from Wills and Adrestia, swept her hair back from her brow and touched a spot that throbbed. “There’s a small gash. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” In her drenched shift which clung to her, she clutched Violet’s hand and dragged her friend back to her side. “Let me introduce you all to Miss Violet Russo. She and I have become rather close during our joint imprisonment at Bruno’s hands. She got caught up in the whole mess. Violet, this is Captain Anteros Bourbon, Giovani, and Miss Adrestia Bourbon.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Russo.” Anteros dipped his head.

  “Well, it’s a delight to finally meet you, Captain Bourbon. An absolute delight.” Violet wrapped her arms around her
self as she shivered. “You have excellent timing by the way. Olivia and I were just in need of your rescue. It was good of you to arrive when you did.”

  “My apologies for not arriving sooner. You’re cold. Let me see to that.” Anteros grasped Wills’ shoulder. “Show Miss Russo to a cabin. Ensure she has all she needs, warm clothes and food, do you understand?”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” Violet squeezed her hand then disappeared with Wills below deck.

  More passengers got pulled onto The Cobra and The Decadence, all who’d need care this night. Anteros slapped Giovani on the back. “Fish everyone from the sea, raise the sails and set course for Paradiso. Also make certain the corsairs don’t follow us. I need to go and look after my angel.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Giovani jogged up the stairs to the wheel.

  “We will speak after Anteros has seen to your needs.” Adrestia kissed her cheek then swung back on board The Decadence, orders flying to her crew to aid the survivors on board.

  “You certainly do have excellent timing.” She cupped Anteros’s cheeks in her hands, uncaring of who saw her or the rip in her shift, the hem dragging on the deck. She rubbed her thumbs under the dark circles shadowing his eyes. “Take me to your cabin, Captain.”

  “If that’s an order, then I’m at your command.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her across the deck, jogged down the stairs and walked along the companionway.

  “I feared never seeing you again.” She snuggled her head against his shoulder as he stepped into a well-appointed cabin with black lacquered cabinets lining two of the four walls, a monstrous bed pressed against one wall and a chunky oak desk in the far corner. Papers and rolled maps were heaped on top of the desk, an elegant settee and armchair forming a sitting area in front of it, this cabin far larger than any she’d ever seen before. Oil burned in an iron wall sconce and cast a gentle glow about his private quarters.