“We never appreciate someone when that person is with us.” Nathaniel lowered his foot back to the sand and rubbed the stubble on his jaw.
Hope wondered if he thought of his own mother. She didn’t know much about her save she had died when he was young. That they shared the same loss endeared him to her all the more. A memory sparked in her mind—one only the past day of bitter travail could have hidden from her.
“You claimed me as your wife,” she said with incredulity as she took a bold step toward him. Even as the words flew off her lips, the elation, the thrill of that moment came crashing back upon her. Could it be he harbored some small measure of affection for her, after all?
He snorted. “Surely you do not think me so callous as to feed you to the sharks. Not when it was within my power to save you.”
Hope lowered her gaze, her heart shriveling. He’d done for her no more than he would do for any woman. No doubt if Abigail had been there, she would be the one honored with the title. And Hope could tell from the look of aversion burning in his eyes he would have preferred that outcome. “Nevertheless, I owe you my life once again.”
He shifted his shoulders.
Hope inched toward him, longing to memorize every line of his face, every muscle, every inflection, just in case he would be taken from her. “I don’t want you to die.”
He chuckled. “We are of the same mind in that.”
“I’m sorry for putting you in this position. It was not my intent.”
The curve of the sun peered over the horizon, spilling gold and orange ribbons upon the sea. A breeze laden with salt and rain fingered the waves of his hair and flapped his shirt again, revealing his strong chest beneath. He faced her, regarding her intently. As she watched him, she knew. She no longer yearned only for his admiration, his approval. She yearned for his love.
Hope took a step back, her gut wrenching at the realization she would never claim the depth of his affection. And for the first time in her life, her beauty, her charm, and her feminine wiles were not enough to purchase the man she longed to possess.
He rose and rubbed the back of his neck, then let out a deep sigh.
An extreme urge to run into his arms overcame Hope. To feel his strong embrace, to inhale a deep breath of his scent. She took a step closer to him. Her eyes burned, but she would not let them fill with tears. “Nathaniel, I cannot bear to lose you.”
He swallowed, and for a moment the hardness in his eyes softened. For a moment, she thought he might open his arms to receive her. But instead, he grunted and swerved around her. “Dawn has arrived. I have an appointment to keep.”
***
Nathaniel stood, hands fisted at his sides, as Gavin primed and loaded his pistol. The major did the same for Mr. Hendrick, who stood beside him, inspecting his progress. A horde of pirates circled them, including Captain Poole, who had leapt upon a boulder to survey the proceedings like a prince watching a cricket match. Hope, along with Kreggs and Hanson, stood amongst the pirates to his right. He assumed Abigail was with Elise and thanked God the little girl would not have to witness her father engaged in a duel to the death.
The sun hovered over the horizon, flinging its cruel rays upon them, only accentuating the sweat now dripping down Nathaniel’s back. He ran a sleeve over his moist forehead as the pirates’ incessant grumblings transformed into wagers and calculations of odds. He tried to drown them out, not wanting to know how much coin hinged on his demise.
The major, looking impotent without his red coat and white baldric, handed the pistol to Mr. Hendrick and sauntered over to Nathaniel. “I fear you have met your match, Mr. Mason.” He snickered. “Mr. Hendrick informs me he is an expert marksman. Finally there will be an end to your insolent meddling in the affairs of competent gentlemen.” His eyes glided over Hope, and he leaned closer to Nathaniel. “Let me put your fears to rest regarding Miss Hope’s safety. I shall be happy to assume the role of husband in your stead.”
Nathaniel’s blood boiled. The intolerable man would never lay a hand on Hope. Not as long as Nathaniel lived. But that was his point, wasn’t it? “How did your raft fare upon the seas, Major? Competent craftsmanship of a gentleman?”
The major narrowed his eyes and spun around.
Mr. Hendrick, who had settled into a pompous stance reflecting the cocky assurance of his success, chuckled. “Ready to die, Mr. Mason?”
“If God wills it, then yes, I am.” Nathaniel lifted his shoulders and eyed his opponent. “It is your eternal destiny, however, which concerns me.”
Mr. Hendrick snorted and laughed again. This time his laughter carried a twinge of fear.
“Enough chatter. Let’s be on with it,” Captain Poole bellowed, and a cacophony of cheers saturated the air.
“Very well.” Gavin handed the pistol to Nathaniel with a wink of assurance, bolstering Nathaniel’s weakening confidence. “Mr. Hendrick, Mr. Mason, back to back, if you please.”
Turning, Nathaniel stared past the horde of pirates onto the green maze of trees lining the beach. He heard Mr. Hendrick shuffle in the sand and felt the heat from his body compress between their backs.
“On the count of six, gentlemen,” Gavin continued.
Nathaniel dared one last glance at Hope. Fear bristled in her eyes, along with the same yearning and admiration he’d seen on the beach earlier. The yearning that had nearly broken down his resolve to keep her at a distance. Did she care for him, or was it another alluring tactic she had perfected over the years? It mattered not. He tore his eyes from her and focused on the task at hand and the sound of Gavin’s thundering shout. “One!”
Nathaniel took a step. He should be angry at Hope for the precarious situation in which he now found himself. Nevertheless, how could he blame her for her outburst? Mr. Hendrick’s cold disregard toward his family and his insufferable arrogance were not to be borne.
“Two!”
Nathaniel took another step. The muscles in his fingers twitched over the gun’s trigger.
“Three!”
The pirates cheered and thrust their weapons into the air. “Thar be some blood spilt today, says I,” one man shouted with glee.
“Put a ball betwixt ’is eyes,” another chortled.
“Four!”
The grumbling mob parted as Nathaniel continued. Sweat slid over his palms, and he tightened the grip on the handle of his pistol. Being raised by a reverend had not afforded him the opportunity to master pistols. Swords, yes, for Reverend Halloway enjoyed swordplay as sport, but the man abhorred guns. Oh, why did he have to hate guns, Lord? Nathaniel clenched his teeth, wondering what a bullet would feel like penetrating his flesh. Nevertheless, Lord, have Your will in this today. Protect me. But if I should die, please protect the ladies.
“Five!” Gavin yelled.
Nathaniel’s heart took on a frenzied beat. The cock of a pistol snapped behind him. He gripped his own weapon with both hands.
A white egret flew overhead, squawking a protest.
“Six!” Gavin shouted.
Hope gasped.
“Fire at will!” Gavin and the major roared together.
Nathaniel spun around, pressed his finger over the trigger, and aimed at Mr. Hendrick’s leg. But before he could fire, the crack of Mr. Hendrick’s gun reverberated through the air.
Nathaniel waited for the pain to start. He glanced down at his shirt, his breeches, but no red spot appeared.
“I shot him. I know I shot him!” Mr. Hendrick’s face twisted in unbelief as he pointed his pistol toward Nathaniel. He glanced across the crowd. “You saw me. I shot him!”
The major stared agape at Nathaniel as if he were a ghost and shook his head. “Egad, the man’s luck.”
A huge smile spread upon Gavin’s lips. “Your shot, Mr. Mason.”
“Finish him off!” Captain Poole gave a wave of permission to Nathaniel and then glanced aloft as if he were bored.
“Kill ’im, kill ’im, kill ’im,” the pirates chanted.
An expression of terror contorted Mr. Hendrick’s features. He tossed his gun to the sand. “I demand we begin again. There’s something amiss with my pistol.”
“You missed him, Mr. Hendrick.” Captain Poole hopped down from the rock, and the crowd parted to allow him passage. Planting both boots firmly in the sand, he fisted his hands upon his waist. “Now take your stand like a man.”
Mr. Hendrick’s gaze skittered past the captain over the crowd, as if looking for a miraculous escape. His chest heaved. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Then he turned and bolted to his left. A snap of Captain Poole’s fingers brought the tips of ten swords leveled upon his chest. Sniveling, Mr. Hendrick faced Nathaniel. “I beg you, sir. By all that is decent and holy.”
Disgust soured in Nathaniel’s belly. This man had wealth, a successful merchant business, a good name—all the things Nathaniel had worked so hard to attain. Yet beyond all the achievements, beyond the respect he received, he possessed not only the heart of a blackguard, but the heart of a coward.
Still, Nathaniel could not kill him. Would not kill him. He glanced at Captain Poole, who stood urging him with a lift of his brow to complete the task. How to end this without appearing a coward to these pirates?
Nathaniel raised his pistol again, closed one eye, and aimed it upon the trembling Mr. Hendrick.
He pressed the trigger.
CHAPTER 25
Crack!
A plume of smoke rose from the barrel of Nathaniel’s pistol, and he coughed at the acrid cloud that blew back in his face.
Mr. Hendrick shrieked, patted his chest for wounds, then allowed his gaze to follow the direction in which Nathaniel’s pistol was pointed. “You fired into the air.” His incredulous tone was edged with relief.
Nathaniel shrugged and tossed the vile weapon to the sand. “You’re not worth having a man’s death on my conscience.”
Grunts and curses flooded over him. Captain Poole belched and shook his head, glaring at Nathaniel.
But Nathaniel cared not. No one had been killed, especially not him. Thank You, Lord. The pirates were not so pleased. They cursed and spat onto the sand, then shot glances at Nathaniel as if he had deprived them of their only entertainment for a month.
“Aw, what kind o’ duel be that? No one be dead!”
“I say we make ’em do it over,” another pirate with a silver ring in one ear and one eye sewn shut shouted toward Nathaniel.
“Be gone with ye!” Captain Poole waved the crowd aside as he marched into the center. “Nothing more to see here.” His men dispersed and ambled away, calling in bets and exchanging coins with clanks and chinks as they went, one of them grumbling, “Perish and plague me, I knew he wouldn’t kill ’im.”
Major Paine took a wide swath around the pirate captain, casting him a dubious look, and stood beside his still-trembling friend.
Gavin gave Nathaniel a disapproving glance. “Sink me, man. Why didn’t you kill him?” He scratched his whiskers. “He would not have hesitated to kill you if he’d possessed a better aim.”
“There is no need to take the man’s life.” Nathaniel released a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.
Gavin stared at Nathaniel as if he had just walked on water. “Of course there is. Especially when the man is a blubbering, pompous toad.”
Captain Poole chuckled. “A truer word as e’er were spoke.”
“The pistol was faulty,” Mr. Hendrick whined.
Nathaniel’s gaze locked upon Hope, a few yards behind him. Elise stood at her side, clutching her skirts. Even from a distance, he could see the relief and joy beaming from Hope’s expression.
Gavin thrust his face toward Mr. Hendrick. “Instead of complaining, sir, you should thank Mr. Mason for his charity. I daresay you would not have received such grace from me.”
“Nor from me,” Captain Poole added with a grunt. He picked up Mr. Hendrick’s pistol from the sand and studied it for a moment. “Ye were beat fair, Hendrick. And as I sees it, ye owe this man yer life.”
Mr. Hendrick winced, but the firm line of his jaw and the hard glint to his eyes spoke of his obstinate dissent.
Dismissing him with a wave, Captain Poole took a turn about Nathaniel, examining his back and chest. “Split me sides, but I saw the man’s aim. ’Twas dead on. At six paces an’ even wit’ the unsure accuracy of these metallic beasts, he should o’ clipped ye at least.” Turning, he glared at the major. “Ye there. Give me some powder and shot.”
“What is your intent, Captain?” The major’s eyes flitted across the group, and he took a step back.
“None of yer business, ye half-masted cockerel. Now give them to me, or I’ll put a shot betwixt yer ears.”
The major’s sunburned face blanched. He fished in his pocket, pulled out the powder container and a ball, and hurried over to hand them to the pirate.
After loading and priming the pistol, Captain Poole took a few steps away from the group, cast a glance over his shoulder toward where Hope, Elise, and Abigail stood, then cocked and aimed the weapon at a palm tree a few feet down shore. “See them coconuts?” Without awaiting a response, he closed one eye and pulled the trigger. A resounding crack whipped through the air, and a coconut thudded to the sand. He eyed the weapon, batting away the smoke. “Nothing wrong with this pistol, Hendrick.” He stuffed it into his breeches. “Either you are a horrible shot and a worse liar, or this man should have a hole in him.”
“’Twas God’s doing.” Abigail’s voice shot over them. Captain Poole spun on his heels, his face lighting up as he watched the lady approach.
Abigail reached Nathaniel’s side, then shifted her eyes to Captain Poole. Nathaniel tensed, praying she knew what she was doing. Behind her, Hope and Elise inched their way toward the group.
“God, you say?” Captain Poole cocked his head and studied Abigail with interest.
“You have proven, Captain, that the pistol is not faulty,” she began, her tone a paragon of confident tranquility. “We have Mr. Hendrick’s testimony that he is an expert marksman, and why would he lie under these circumstances? And we have Mr. Mason here without a mark on him. What other explanation would you give?”
Captain Poole circled Abigail, fingering the stubble on his chin. A sly grin slithered over his lips. Abigail stood tall, her chestnut hair dancing idly down her back in the breeze. She brushed a few strands from her forehead with the back of her hand and commanded his gaze.
“A wise conclusion, miss,” Captain Poole said. “I’ve forgotten yer name.”
“Sheldon. Abigail Sheldon.”
“Ah, Miss Sheldon. I should like to discuss this further with ye, if ye don’t mind.” He proffered his arm as though he would escort her to a ball.
Abigail froze; her jaw quivered. Nathaniel took her arm and eased her away from the pirate.
“Have ye two wives now, Mr. Mason?” Captain Poole snapped. He dropped his arm to his side. “I wish only to speak with the lady. Ye shall be rid of me soon enough. We set sail on the morrow and shall be no more of your concern.”
Gavin moved to stand beside Hope in a protective gesture that grated over Nathaniel. Ignoring it, he fixed his gaze upon the captain, both pleased and alarmed at the man’s declaration to leave. “So soon?”
“Ye’ll miss me, eh?” Captain Poole eyes sparkled with mischief. “Seems ye’ve picked this island clean of fruit. And we’ve loaded up all the water we need. There be naught left for us here.”
“Will you take us to Kingstown, then?” Nathaniel crossed his arms over his chest and risked pricking the capricious pirate’s ire. He had no choice. He had no idea when another ship would arrive.
The captain inhaled a deep breath as if he were trying to calm his temper, then nodded toward his ship. “Does that look like a passenger ship to ye, Mr. Mason?” He ground the words out through his teeth, but then he gazed at his ship, and his face softened with pride. “Nay, that be the Enchantress—named for me last wife. And with that beauty, me and me crew have taken thre
e merchantmen, two East Indiamen, one Spanish argosy, a Dutch fluyt, and a German barque.” He seemed to grow taller with the mention of each conquest, then leaned toward Nathaniel and raised one brow. “Now if ye and yer friend here and those two”—he motioned toward Hanson and Kreggs—“wish to join me crew, then we have somethin’ to discuss.”
“I can’t speak for these others, but I am no pirate, Captain Poole,” Nathaniel said without hesitation.
“Too good for the trade, eh?”
“Mr. Mason is a godly man, Captain.” Abigail raised her chin a notch. “Pirating would go against everything he believes in.”
“Saints’ blood.” Captain Poole waved his hands through the air, the lace at his cuffs fluttering in the breeze. “This island’s crawlin’ with godly people. Where have I landed, Christ’s Church, London?”
Gavin chuckled and then coughed into his hand beneath Abigail’s stern glance.
“What of ye, sir?” Captain Poole directed his gaze at Gavin. “Be there pirate blood in ye?”
“I have yet to discover that, Captain.” Gavin winked. “But one never knows.”
“I thought so. I can see the fire of the brethren in yer eyes.” The captain clapped him on the back, the compliment molding over Gavin like the perfect fit of a garment.
“And ye two.” The captain swung about and faced Kreggs and Hanson. Fear skittered across Hanson’s face, but Kreggs shifted his stance and furrowed his brow. “We stick with Mr. Mason. He’s not led us astray thus far.”
Captain Poole turned a curious eye to Nathaniel. “Your men revere you. Such loyalty be hard to come by.” He studied Nathaniel as if searching for the reason, then shrugged. “Well, so be it. Ye can all stay on this bloomin’ island for all I care.”
“We are both able seamen.” Nathaniel gestured toward Gavin. “We will work your ship to pay for our passage as long as you don’t engage in any pillaging along the way.”
Captain Poole’s wicked, menacing laugh bristled the hair on Nathaniel’s arms. Instantly, his face turned to stone. “I don’t bargain with the likes of you.” He spat. But when he glanced at Abigail, the tight lines on his face softened. “I tell ye what. Allow me a moment with Miss Sheldon, and I’ll think on yer offer.”
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