Capture My Heart

by Bobbi Smith

  The indomitable Miss Jones, ever concerned about the state of her delicate complexion, had her umbrella up to protect her from the harshness of the late-morning sun, as she had each day since their departure from India. The voyage had been long and tiring, but now that they had passed the equator and the temperatures were moderating, they knew it wouldn't last too much longer. Every day was bringing them closer and closer to England, and their excitement about returning to their native land was growing.

  "It won't be long now, Miss Victoria," Miss Jones said with confidence as they paused by the railing to gaze out across the blue waters.

  "I know, Jonesey. Isn't it wonderful?!" Victoria said with a bright smile, her emerald eyes alive with pure pleasure as she imagined what the future held for her.

  "It most certainly is," she agreed wholeheartedly. There was no one alive who would appreciate returning to England more than she. "I must confess to you now that, even as devoted as I am to you and your parents, I almost refused their offer to accompany you to India. England has been and always will be my home, and it was a trauma for me to leave her."

  "It seems like a long time since we sailed from London . . ."

  "It was a long time ago, my dear. It was three very long years ago," Miss Jones pointed out; then she smiled to soften the sharpness of her words. "You changed a lot while we were away, you know."

  "I've grown up," Victoria said with pride. When they had sailed from England she'd been a young miss, just shy of sixteen. She was returning now. a young woman in full bloom. Victoria was thrilled to think that she could now partake of all the activities that had been forbidden her before they'd gone—the balls and the parties and the dancing. She could hardly wait until they made landfall. It would be good to see her grandfather, the Marquess of Ravensley, again. She adored him and had missed him greatly.

  "And you'd better remember that, too. This isn't going to be India, you know. There will be no more riding astride, no more shooting, and no more wild hunting adventures," her companion dictated. "You're about to become the future Duchess of Huntington. You'll have to behave like royalty."

  Victoria pulled a face, then broke into delighted laughter. She was innocently unaware of the members of the crew who turned to look at her. She was so lovely and her laughter so light and gay that she was a balm to their travel-weary souls.

  "You're right, of course, Jonesey, but it was fun while it lasted. Especially tiger hunting!"

  "Well, maybe someday after you're married you can go back, but for now, I think you'd be best served if you pretended that you'd never done such things."

  "Do you think Grandfather might object?"

  "As far as your grandfather is concerned, I'm quite sure he believes you can do no wrong. What I'm thinking is, your new fiancé might not want to know that his wife can probably ride better than he can and shoot straighter, too."

  In a moment of sweet camaraderie, Jonesey let her strict demeanor slip and shared an impish look with her.

  "The ego of a man my dear, is a fragile thing. You must learn how to handle them."

  "I have to know the man before I can handle him, and I know so little about Alexander. I wish I'd had the chance to meet him before the engagement was announced. What if . . .?"

  "You don't have a thing to worry about where your new fiancé is concerned," Miss Jones said.

  "You're sure about that?" Victoria asked, knowing she could count on Jonesey to tell her the absolute truth. The elderly woman always voiced her opinions, solicited or not, if she thought they might prove helpful to her in any way.

  "I'm positive. Your grandfather loves you so much that I'm certain he would never have taken any chances with your future. He must think highly of young Wakefield or he wouldn't have kept to the contract. He could have broken it, you know, if he'd thought there might be a problem."

  Victoria sighed. "You're right. I trust Grandfather . . . and Alexander is quite handsome . . ." She lifted the locket she wore on a gold chain around her neck and opened it to stare down at the miniature portrait her fiancé had sent to her.

  "He's very handsome," Jonesey emphasized, "and devilishly wealthy to boot. It's a wonderful match. Why, think about it. Do you know how many women would trade places with you in a second? One day, you'll be a duchess!"

  Victoria laughed at the older woman's enthusiasm. "I most certainly will be, won't I? It rather boggles the mind, don't you think?"

  "Not at all," Miss Jones answered, turning serious. "In spite of your best efforts to avoid it, you have been raised and educated to become a great lady, and you will be, my dear. I'm sure of it." She patted her hand with assurance.

  They exchanged a fond look just as they heard one of the sailors call out to the captain that he'd spotted another ship on the horizon. Both women looked in the direction the crew member had indicated and were able to make out a vague expanse of white sail in the distance. They thought it quite exciting, for they hadn't seen another vessel for days, and they decided to stay up on deck and watch a little longer.

  "Serad Reis! There! To the north!" the lookout's voice rang out across the deck of the Scimitar.

  Serad abruptly broke off conversation with his second-in-command, Tariq, and swung around to see what it was the man had sighted. When he saw the French merchantman, he smiled, the white of his teeth flashing against the blackness of his beard. At twenty-seven, Serad had grown into a fine, handsome specimen of a man. He was tall, well over six feet, and powerfully built. His shoulders were wide and corded with thick muscle from the years of vigorous sailing. His waist was trim, and his legs were long and straight. While at sea, he wore only a white turban and a pair of loose-fitting pants cut off at the knees for freedom of movement, and so he had tanned to a dark bronze. He looked the part of the fierce corsair that he was, and he reveled in the glory of his adventurous life aboard the Scimitar. There was nothing he enjoyed more than captaining his ship and claiming booty from a slow-moving merchantman.

  "Let's intercept her, men! Run up the French flag, and ready the guns! As low as she's sitting in the water, she must be carrying a full cargo. There's no way she can outrun us." He would take this oncoming ship as his own, for he knew how pleased Malik would be when he returned to Algiers with another full load of fine tribute.

  On board La Mouette, the captain and crew were growing suspicious as they noted the way the other ship, French flag or not, kept angling toward them.

  "I don't like this, Jacques. I don't like this one bit," Capitaine Duval growled half under his breath as he kept an eye on the Scimitar. "I haven't been able to read her name yet, but I've got a feeling . . ."

  "Shall I change course and see what she does?"

  "Yes, steer hard aport. Let's see what happens . . . " Capitaine Duval lifted his telescope to scan the other vessel once more. He wasn't quite sure what he was hoping to find, but the safety of his own ship, crew, and passengers were paramount. He couldn't put them at risk. The odds were with him that this was just another merchant ship heading home, but there was always the chance that it wasn't, and he wanted to be prepared.

  The crew watched and waited for an answering response from the coming ship, and when it altered its course to intercept with theirs, they knew they were in for trouble. Capitaine Duval kept his glass trained on the other, faster vessel, and when he saw the name Scimitar painted on its side, he knew real terror.

  "Full sail! Jacques! It's the Scimitar! We're going to have to make a run for it! Get us out of here now!"

  "Oui, mon capitaine!"

  At the news that this was the infamous Scimitar, of the Barbary States closing on them, the crew of La Mouette was jarred into action. The pirate ship's reputation had preceded it, and the men of the merchantman grew afraid. They'd heard how wild Barbary pirates were, and they were certain of what their fate would be if they were caught. If they fought, they'd be killed, and if they surrendered, they'd be transported back to North Africa and sold into slavery. The horror of either situation w
as enough to drive them to extraordinary lengths to save their ship and themselves.

  On board the Scimitar, Serad watched as the other ship made every effort to escape him.

  "They've obviously heard of our reputation," Tariq observed as he stood at his reis's side.

  "I wanted our fearsome reputation to make them so afraid that they'd surrender without a fight, not run and force a battle."

  "Maybe they're carrying something of great value," his second-in-command suggested with a smile.

  "Then why risk our firing on them and all being lost?" Serad countered. "The captain is a fool." He turned and called out to his men, "Fire now, a single shot across the port bow. Maybe a warning will be enough to stop them."

  One of the Scimitar's twenty-four cannons let loose a round that skimmed through the air just ahead of the fleeing La Mouette.

  Ignored in the midst of the chaotic activity, Victoria and Miss Jones watched all that was happening around them in fascination, not quite sure what it meant. Only when the other ship fired their gun did it finally dawn on them what was about to happen.

  "My God, Jonesey, they must be pirates!" Victoria exclaimed as she strained to get a better look at the ship.

  "We must go below, Miss Victoria. Right now!" the elderly woman insisted. In a quick motion, she lowered her umbrella and grabbed Victoria by the arm.

  Capitaine Duval looked up just then to see them on the deck. "Ladies! Get belowdecks to your cabins and stay there until I come for you!"

  Recognizing the command in his voice, Victoria gave up her quest to catch a glimpse of the pirates and acceded to Jonesey's pressure to go below to their connecting staterooms.

  "What do you suppose the captain's going to do?" Victoria asked when they were finally locked safe inside her cabin. Her eyes were wide and questioning, and her heart was pounding from the excitement of it all.

  "Captain Duval will fight them off, of course!" Miss Jones insisted, rapping her umbrella on the cabin floor to make her point. In her eyes, to do less would be cowardly, and no ship's captain would ever be a coward. They were brave and hardy souls.

  Just as she finished speaking, though, they heard the boom of another round being fired. They hurried to the single porthole to look out.

  "It's so close!" Victoria said, stunned to see that the approaching ship had greatly narrowed the gap between the two vessels. She could make out its multitude of cannons now, and she went cold inside. She would have liked to believe that Captain Duval would be able to resist, but to the best of her knowledge, the merchantman was carrying only four guns.

  "The French ship refuses to yield, Serad Reis!" one of his men informed him.

  "Aim for the riggings" came Serad's solemn order. He did not want to damage the vessel so severely that it couldn't make the voyage back to Algiers.

  Several of the cannons roared to life once again, and the men of the Scimitar let out a loud cheer as the shot shredded the sails and tore out the main mast.

  "Prepare to board!" Serad ordered.

  On La Mouette, the men were frantic. Though no one had been killed when the sails and the mast destroyed, the ship itself was now dead in the water. The crew knew they were helpless to do more than wait for the inevitable.

  Capitaine Duval, however, was furious. He turned to his men and directed, "Bring our guns to bear. We'll not go down to these cutthroats without a fight! Let's give them something to remember us by!"

  Though they had only four small cannons, two on either side of the ship, the men were thrilled to have at least this one chance to wreak vengeance on their attackers. They were not experienced at battling at sea, but they tried their best nonetheless and managed to get off two shots at the pirates. One dropped uselessly in the ocean just short of the Scimitar, but the other scored a hit. Crashing into the ship above the waterline near the stern, the shot only caused some superficial damage.

  Serad had not wanted to damage the other ship, but he could not allow anyone to fire on his vessel without answering back. "Silence those guns before they cause us any real trouble and aim a shot at the helm!" he ordered in disgust.

  Several of the Scimitar's cannons flamed to life with a vengeance, raking La Mouette's two guns with deadly fire, rendering them useless and taking out all of the ship's controls. Knowing the merchantman would be firing no more, the pirate ship boldly maneuvered in close alongside.

  The pirate crew was ready with their grappling hooks, guns, and scimitars as the boats came together. As always, Serad led his men in the boarding. Throwing his hook with precision, he swung across to land lightly on his feet on the deck, his scimitar held tightly in hand and a loaded pistol stuck in the waistband of his pants. Looking equally savage, his crew followed him. They screamed at the top of their lungs at an ear-splitting pitch to strike terror in the hearts of those they were about to face in triumph.

  Capitaine Duval stood on the deck of his ship. Hatred coursed through him as he watched the pirates boarding. Though his men had been willing to fight on, he'd given strict orders that not one hand was to be raised, not one weapon fired. Duval realized now that as outgunned as they were, it had been foolhardy to fire on their attackers. Several of his men had been killed during the exchange of volleys, and he wanted to risk no more carnage.

  Duval stared with open enmity at the first corsair who had come aboard and who was walking straight toward him. The Frenchman's gaze darkened with controlled fury. He considered these North Africans little better than animals, naked to the waist as they were and carrying the fierce barbarian swords that could behead a man with one swing. The pirates looked exactly as he'd heard they would, and he knew if he valued the lives of his passengers and crew that he would have to control his anger.

  "You're the captain?" Serad asked as he approached Duval, Tariq staying close by his side.

  "I'm Capitaine Duval."

  "I am Serad, reis of the Scimitar. It was very foolish of you to try to fight me." He glanced around the deck at the strained faces of the French crew and at the damage his guns had caused. "Some of your crew is dead and your ship is now useless to the both of us."

  "I would rather see it at the bottom of the ocean than in your hands," he declared tersely.

  "If you're not careful, you may get your wish and visit the bottom of the ocean with her," Serad returned, his silver eyes glittering dangerously as he stared his adversary in the face. He saw the other man stiffen at his words, and he was pleased. After a moment of silent intimidation, Serad issued orders to some of his crew to go below and bring up everything they found of value so it could be loaded onto the Scimitar. That done, he remained on deck to supervise the chaining and transfer of the French crew to his ship.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Belowdecks, the excitement that had intrigued Victoria in the beginning had been replaced by pure, unadulterated fear. She and Miss Jones had heard the last round of shots being fired and the shouts of the pirates as they'd boarded. Huddled now on the bunk in Victoria's cabin, they waited, praying that Captain Duval and his men would be able to fight them off.

  "I wish I had my pistol," Victoria whispered to her companion when they heard the sounds of men moving down the companionway.

  "It might be the captain coming for us."

  "It might not be, too. At least, if I had my pistol we'd have some protection."

  "Your pistol would only stop one man, Victoria," Edith Jones cautioned, "and I'm afraid from the sound of things that that really wouldn't do us much good." She felt amazingly calm even in the face of their desperate situation.

  When the heavy footsteps paused right outside their cabin door, they were both silenced. They held their breaths, their hands tightening as they clutched each other. Someone tried the doorknob, and when he found it was locked, he began to batter the closed portal relentlessly with his shoulder until finally the solid wood door gave way in a splintering crash.

  Victoria and Miss Jones cringed as it flew open, and they stared in shock at their fir
st good look at pirates. Big, burly, and nearly naked, the corsairs advanced into the room brandishing wicked-looking scimitars and striking terror in the souls of the two women.

  "Look what we have here," Najib said with a leering smile.

  "Serad Reis will be greatly pleased. The young one alone may make up for his disappointment over the damage to the boat . . ." Hassan agreed.

  "Let's get them up on deck so he can see that all was not lost."

  When the evil Najib made a grab for Victoria, Jonesey flew into action. With no thought to anything but protecting her young ward, she attacked.

  Neither of the pirates had given the old woman more than a passing thought. They'd thought it would be a simple matter to haul the two of them up the companionway and deliver them to Serad. But they were wrong. When Jonesey clobbered Najib over the head with her umbrella, he was caught totally off guard.

  "Get away from here, you filthy monster!!" Jonesey shouted, making a valiant effort. But once she lost the element of surprise, her challenge to their superiority was over.

  Hassan quickly snatched her up and threw her, kicking and screaming, over his shoulder. She gave a squawk of surprise at being so manhandled, but she still managed to keep a tight hold on her precious umbrella.

  When Victoria saw how rough they were being with Miss Jones, she lunged forward trying to go to her companion's aid. "Let her go!" she cried, but it was a pointless effort.

  Najib had recovered from the old woman's unexpected attack, and he grabbed Victoria up and tossed her over his shoulder in the very same manner.

  As the pirate carried her up the companionway and out on deck, Victoria struggled to lift her head and look around. She hoped to see someone who could come to her aid, but to her despair, the entire crew of La Mouette had been lined up against the rail and was under heavy guard by the pirates. Capitaine Duval had been separated from his crew and already transported to the other ship.