The Redemption (Legacy of the King's Pirates Book 1)

by Marylu Tyndall

  Trembling all over, she knelt on the dirty floor and prayed.

  ♥♥♥

  Footsteps approached and Merrick looked up. The familiar form of Reverend Thomas appeared out of the darkness, followed closely by a guard. Dashing to the bars, Merrick strained for a glimpse of Charlisse in the dim lighting, but the look on Thomas’s face told him she was not with him.

  Extending his arms beyond the iron rods, he clasped his friend’s hand in greeting, but he sensed something was wrong. “Where is she?”

  The reverend looked at him, sadness emanating from his usually cheerful eyes.

  “Where is she?” Merrick demanded.

  “She went out last night after I fell asleep,” the reverend said, looking down. “I have not seen her since.”

  Merrick’s insides crumbled. He tried to speak but terror constricted his throat.

  “Sloane is out looking for her,” Thomas added.

  Shoving a hand through his hair, Merrick turned aside. “She’s been gone all night and all day?” He’d heard the words, but his mind wouldn’t believe them. Or was it his heart that wouldn’t believe them? He clenched his fists.

  “It’s possible she went in search of her father—to try to negotiate your release.”

  “Edward the Terror?” Merrick clutched the bars, his knuckles turning white. “She went to see Edward the Terror? I ordered her not to!” He pushed from the bars and took up a pace. “Why didn’t you stop her? Why didn’t you protect her?” He cast an accusing glance at the reverend.

  Thomas sighed, a grimace marring his features. “I’m sorry, Merrick. I was asleep. I thought she was too.” He stared at the dirty stone floor again and shifted his hat in his hands. “I should have been more careful.”

  Merrick regretted his harsh accusations, but he was too mad right now to care about anyone but Charlisse. “Where is Edward now? Tell Sloane to find him. Perhaps he took Charlisse captive.” With his mind swirling with plans to rescue her, he spat orders to Thomas as if he were one of his crew.

  “Unfortunately, Edward weighed anchor and left Port Royal early this morning.” The reverend’s eyes grew moist. “Since we have been unable to locate Charlisse, I have to believe he took her with him.”

  Merrick slammed his fists against the stone wall, leaving blood to mark the spot of his fury. “No!” He tried to collect his thoughts as well as his rage. “Do you realize what he’ll do to her?”

  “We don’t know how Edward will take the revelation that Charlisse is his daughter. Let us not assume the worst.”

  “Assume the worst! How can I not? The scoundrel himself told me what he would do with a beautiful daughter.” He stormed toward the reverend. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  Thomas stared at him.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Merrick swung away. “If I had killed him, Charlisse would be safe now.”

  “But she would hate you for it. And you would end up hating yourself.”

  Seizing the bars, Merrick shook them with a fury that sent the reverend back a step. “Get me out of here, Thomas.”

  The guard approached, and Thomas raised his hand.

  “I’m losing my mind,” Merrick whispered when the reverend returned his gaze.

  “There’s still a chance you won’t hang,” the reverend said, his eyes reflecting Merrick’s suffering.

  “Do you think that’s what concerns me? I have no fear of death. At least I will be free from this cage.” He sighed and hung his head. “Charlisse depended on me to protect her and I have let her down. Now her purity and her life are in grave danger.” He rubbed his eyes. “How can I help her locked up in here, Thomas? Why has God taken my freedom? Why has He forsaken me?”

  “Trust him, Merrick. He is still in control.”

  “But I’m not anymore.”

  “Were you ever?”

  Merrick grunted.

  “Give the control to him, Merrick,” the reverend said.

  “I don’t know if I can.” Merrick felt as though he were at sea being pummeled by a hurricane, unable to stop the monstrous waves from tearing his ship to shreds.

  The guard cleared his throat and stepped forward.

  Merrick leaned into the bars and pushed his hand through. He knew the reverend was doing his best to comfort him—to help him in the only way he knew. But Merrick didn’t need a man of God right now. What he needed was a pirate, a rogue—a man who wasn’t afraid to use his sword for a worthy cause.

  The reverend clasped Merrick’s outstretched hand. “I will pray for you. Don’t lose your faith, son.”

  Merrick drew him close. “Tell Sloane to proceed,” he whispered.

  “With what?”

  “He’ll know what I mean.” Merrick dropped the reverend’s hand, then turned and sought the shadows of his cell.

  Chapter 33: Circle of Light

  Well into the night, the lantern guttered, leaving Charlisse in a darkness so thick she could feel it. The ship moved gracefully beneath her, sending a rush of water against the hull. If not for the hard wood under her feet, she could easily imagine herself floating endlessly through an empty void—a plane of existence halfway between death and eternity.

  But God was with her. She felt his presence in the cell. And in her heart. After what had happened with the two pirates, she knew he had not given up on her yet—that he was still keeping a watchful eye upon her. Was God the father she’d been searching for? She supposed time would tell whether he could be trusted, and whether he considered her worthy enough to be his daughter. The latter she highly doubted. If he truly was the awesome God she was beginning to realize he was, why would he want someone like her—someone who would only bring dishonor to his name?

  She had finally found her earthly father. Not only was he not kind and loving, but he had denied her birth and tossed her into a filthy prison with no regard for her safety. Though she could not ignore the pain from his rejection, she no longer hoped for his acceptance—or his love. He seemed nothing more than an angry, miserable man, whose only pleasure in life was invoking terror in everyone around him—especially those weaker than he. Her dreams of a father had extinguished just like the lantern light, leaving her in darkness.

  Edward was not at all as her mother had described him. Had the years of hardship and bitter disappointment changed him so drastically? And what was her uncle’s part in all this? How many lives had he ruined in his lust for control over everyone who crossed his path? Charlisse cringed at the remembrance of him and thanked the Lord she was no longer in his wicked grasp.

  Sometime during the night the gruesome moaning of the bulkheads grew louder as the tossing of the ship intensified. Charlisse grew queasy. The scampering of tiny feet tapped a frightening cadence in the darkness. Rats, perhaps startled from their slumber by the rising swells. Or worse—hunger. She stood, backing against the iron bars, afraid to breathe lest they find her. Soon, she felt their whiskers on her legs. With a shriek, she kicked them away.

  Clinging to the rusty bars, hungry and tired, suffocated by a stench that would cause most women to swoon, and surrounded by rats and other slimy vermin, her resolve faltered.

  “Where are you, God?” she cried, her voice echoing against the moldy hull. Was he still there? Or in her desperation, had she only imagined his presence? Voices in her head kept telling her she was a fool to believe in a loving God, that he was but a figment of her deluded imagination, created to escape the horrors of her reality.

  Yet as she continued to cry out, renewed warmth flowed through her. A feeling—more like a knowing—of power and peace bubbled inside her. Closing her eyes, she basked in it, refusing to give in to the voices of the enemy.

  Some time later, the heat intensified, and Charlisse assumed that day had broken once again over the Caribbean, bringing its usual sweltering temperatures. Droplets formed on her face and neck, and her gown seemed permanently glued to her skin.

  She heard footsteps on the stairs, and a faint l
ight appeared to her right. Unsure whether to be relieved or frightened, she was seized by the latter as Kent appeared with lantern in hand. Approaching the cell, he held the light up to her face and offered her a malicious grin.

  “Ah, did they leave you here all alone in the dark?” His voice dripped with lecherous sarcasm. He glanced around. “Not a very charming place, either … and the smell, how awful for you.” He pressed one hand to his nose.

  Charlisse glared at him from the back of the cage. If she didn’t know him, she would find him a handsome man—tall, muscular, impeccably dressed in satin and silver lace, dark curly hair, and enticing brown eyes. But that was only the outside of him. Inside he was pure evil. He alone was responsible for her predicament. And Merrick’s. He had placed the false evidence aboard Merrick’s ship and alerted the authorities. He had allied with her father to have Merrick arrested, and finally, he had assisted in her kidnapping and imprisonment aboard this vile ship.

  Charlisse sensed his blackened heart as he stood there leering at her, one side of his thin mustache lifting in a smirk. And to think he was her cousin.

  “What is it you want, cousin?” Her voice quivered, but her gaze was direct.

  “Ah, so you do believe you’re Edward’s daughter, eh?” He turned and hung the lantern on the hook between the cells. The tip of his rapier clanged against the iron bars. “It seems he believes it also, for the poor old fool has kept himself stupefied with rum since his encounter with you last night.” He raised his brows. “Nothing notable happened between you, I presume? No father-daughter reunion?”

  “You uncivilized cad.”

  He offered her a mocking bow. “At your service, cousin.” With one hand on the hilt of his rapier and the other on his hip, he perused her for several minutes. “That makes it much more interesting, don’t you think?”

  Charlisse averted her eyes from his wicked gaze.

  “Being related, I mean—makes the fruit even more forbidden, even more desirable.” He paused, cocking his head. “Yes, I think we shall become the closest of relations.”

  Charlisse glared at him.

  “Come, come, my sweet. What have you got to lose? Surely you aren’t waiting to be rescued by the debonair Captain Merrick?” Kent paced in front of her cell. “Why, last I heard, he has an appointment at the gallows come Friday.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think the illustrious captain will be able to get himself out of this one.”

  “And ’tis you who put him there with your lies and deceit,” Charlisse spat, fury rising within her. God help her, she hated him. Even though she knew she shouldn’t. She must love her enemies, the Lord said. Yet she felt nothing but loathing for this man. Holding her head high, her eyes burning with emotion, she added, “You’ll never be half the man Merrick is.”

  Kent leaned into the bars, his brown eyes smoldering. “Why don’t you try me and find out?”

  Charlisse swerved away in disgust. A rat darted across the cell floor.

  “I see you have company.” Kent’s tone turned lighthearted. Then with a curt wave he said, “Enough of this, I did not come to cause you further anguish, cousin, nor to discuss the past.”

  “No? Well, you have accomplished both. So now you may leave.”

  “Not before you hear my proposition.”

  “There is nothing I could possibly want from you.” Charlisse hugged herself, feeling a wicked chill in Kent’s presence despite the excruciating heat.

  “Perhaps you’ll find me not quite the villainous scoundrel you believe I am, dearest Charlisse. I do, after all, know how to treat a lady.”

  “Indeed. I had a taste of your chivalry on board the Redemption.”

  Kent gave a half-hearted sigh. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for that. I fear I don’t hold my rum very well.”

  Charlisse examined him. Could he truly be sorry for what he had done? When he looked up, sarcasm played in his eyes. She turned away, disgusted.

  “It’s terribly hot down here, don’t you think?” he finally said with cool disdain, “and I tell you from experience, it grows worse as the day progresses. He folded his hands across his chest and sighed. “This is no place for a lady.”

  Charlisse’s gaze veered to his, wondering what he was scheming.

  “I could come in there and take you right now,” he said, “but I won’t. I’m going to wait until you’ve had enough. Until the rat bites and the heat and the smell and the hunger become too much for you, and you beg me to rescue you.” He smirked. “I have a comfortable room above where I assure you I will care for you properly—if you behave.”

  Bile rose in Charlisse’s throat. She stepped from the shadows, her voice raising. “I would rather die a thousand deaths down here in the bilge and filth and be eaten alive by rats than spend one second alone with you.”

  The smile fell from Kent’s face. His upper lip twitched. “We shall see, you haughty wench.” He turned and retrieved a set of keys from a hook on the wall. “I’ll return in a few days. Perhaps you will have a change of heart.” He grinned maliciously and left.

  Charlisse shuddered. The lantern swung on the hook where he’d left it. At least there would be light for a little while.

  The day progressed, and with it, the torturous heat. Hunger clawed at her stomach, haunting her with memories of her time alone on the island. Did they intend to starve her to death? Or was this just another form of pirate torture? Her legs burned in the effort to remain standing on the canting deck, but she didn’t dare rest them and give the rats more flesh to chew. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she prayed for strength.

  Sometime after midday, as best she could guess, Charlisse heard someone coming down the steps. A crotchety old sailor emerged from the ladder, the epitome of a pirate from every fable and myth she had ever heard or read. Swarthy and muscular, he wore a white-and-red checkered shirt under an embroidered red waistcoat, baggy black breeches, red silk stockings, and heavy boots. A mop of scraggly hair emerged from under a red scarf. A leather belt strapped over his shoulder held three brace of pistols. A long scar ran from his neck up to his right eye, where a patch hid the damage beneath.

  Scowling at her, he limped to her cell, carrying a plate and cup in his hand, and despite his appearance, Charlisse’s mouth began to water at the sight of food. A colorful parrot on his shoulder squawked when it saw her and began repeating, “Walk the plank. Walk the plank.” She wondered if the creature was somehow foretelling her fate.

  After searching for the keys to her cell—which Charlisse silently thanked Kent for taking—the pirate cursed and pushed the plate underneath the bars. Casting an angry look at her, he turned and limped away. The parrot on his shoulder continued its admonition over and over until she could hear him no longer.

  Charlisse scrambled to the plate and grabbed the cup, downing the liquid in two gulps. The water was warm and had black globs floating in it, but she didn’t care. It slid down her throat like spring water. The food, however, was a different matter. It consisted of brown-colored lumps that smelled as if it had been scraped from the bilge of the ship. She stuck her finger in the cold mass and held it to her mouth, hoping it might taste better than it looked. Before she had even placed it on her lips, she nearly heaved up the water she had just drunk.

  She slid the plate under the bars and into the corner, where she hoped its contents would satisfy the hungry rodents enough to leave her alone.

  The lantern went out. A palpable darkness surrounded her, penetrating her soul with its dismal tidings. The normal moaning and creaking of the ship—at first terrifying sounds in the pitch black, like the weeping and gnashing of teeth one would expect to hear in hell—were now almost comforting, reassuring her that she was still among the living and had not been transported to an eternity of emptiness.

  Exhausted and soaked with perspiration, Charlisse clung to the bars. The hours dragged on, bringing with them cooler evening temperatures, but unfortunately, also the rats. The pattering of tiny feet thrum
med all around her. How long she could hold up against them, she didn’t know. Would she topple to the floor, overcome with fatigue? Would her captors find nothing but a pile of half-eaten flesh come morning?

  Hours went by and tears flowed freely down her cheeks as the hopelessness of her situation struck her like a cannonball. The carnivorous rodents constantly gnawed at her legs, tearing her stockings into shreds and biting her tender flesh. Soon she was unable to feel her feet as numbness began to migrate up her body.

  “Oh God,” she cried out in desperation. “I know I deserve nothing more than this hideous fate for all I’ve done,” she sobbed. “But I also know you have forgiven me and washed me clean with your precious blood.” She glanced upward into the darkness. “Have mercy on your daughter. Protect and deliver me. Give me your strength, for I feel I have none left within me.” She waited, but no answer came save the constant moaning of the ship mocking her for her foolishness.

  Sometime during the long, agonizing night, Charlisse felt her legs give way, and she collapsed in a heap to the damp floor. She could hear the rats gleefully scampering toward her, but she could not find the strength to get up. Her breath came in terrified spurts. She stared into the darkness, and a sudden panic surged through her at the thought that she would soon lose all consciousness and be entirely at their mercy.

  A pinprick of light appeared by her feet. Curiously, she stared as it expanded and began to draw a line. Little beady eyes glowed beyond it, frozen in their advance, watching it with as much fascination as Charlisse. On and on it continued, weaving a luminous trail on the wooden floor. It rounded a curve and continued. She watched in awe as it ended up where it began, enclosing her in a circle.

  The entire cell was illuminated by its radiance, and she could clearly see the rats waiting at its outer edges—dozens of filthy creatures, staring at her with evil eyes and twitching noses. Three scuttled toward her. They halted at the light, sniffing, hesitating. Charlisse thought they would hop over it, but to her surprise, they spun around and rejoined the others. More came scampering over, and each time they stopped abruptly at the light and turned back.