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

by Marylu Tyndall

  Kent chuckled. “My father would never so blatantly display his wickedness. No, he prefers an outward pretense of social grace and reserves his depraved demeanor for his family.”

  His gaze landed on her again, and she perceived a battle raging behind his eyes. She had opened a deep wound, and the more his thoughts dwelt on it, the less they would focus on her. She knew she played a precarious game, but at the moment it was the only game that might save her. “Was he cruel to you?”

  “Cruel, ha!” Kent pulled his sword a few inches out of its scabbard and then thrust it back. He glanced toward the window where rain and wind still pummeled the glass. His focus was distant, in another time and place. A place that brought him pain and made him seem somehow vulnerable. “It was his purpose to prove his supremacy over me in all things. I grew to believe he sired me only for his cruel pleasure.” A shudder crossed his shoulders before he regained his haughty mien. “But I will prove myself to him yet.” His gaze swerved back to her, anger smoldering in his eyes. “For I shall soon become the most notorious pirate in these waters. My name will invoke terror wherever it is spoken, and I will have whichever lady I desire.”

  Thunder exploded outside the window as if roaring its agreement with his declaration.

  Charlisse trembled.

  With a frustrated snort and a shake of his head, Kent turned to the door and left. Despite the objections of her stomach, Charlisse ate the meat and drank the water, hoping it would settle her nerves. It did not. In fact, as the storm outside the ship subsided, the storm within her only increased.

  By the time Kent returned, the torrent had passed, and the ship was in no further danger, but by the smile on his face, Charlisse realized she was not to be as fortunate. He was sober, and apparently, for the time being, unfettered in his obligations. He tossed his weaponry aside with ease and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  Charlisse backed onto the cot, fighting a wave of nausea. Bare-chested and determined, Kent approached, and in a split second, he was on her, pinning her down. She screamed and thrashed beneath him. His thick hand muffled her cries for help as he tore at her gown. She bit his palm and bolted upright, clutching her stomach.

  “Please, I’m going to be sick.” She tried to push past him.

  Kent shook his stinging hand. “No you’re not, wench, lay back down.” He began ripping the buttons from her bodice.

  Charlisse’s stomach lurched. She held her hand over her mouth.

  Kent stopped. He must have finally believed her, for he started to back away.

  Too late. Charlisse opened her mouth and vomited all over him.

  He froze, staring at the slimy liquid sliding down his bare chest onto his breeches. The angry determination of a few moments ago vanished, replaced by repulsion and a squeamish pallor.

  “You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Charlisse said curtly, suddenly feeling much better.

  With a violent backhand, Kent sent her reeling to the cot. “You impertinent shrew!” Purple veins pulsed to near bursting in his forehead. He turned away, holding his hand to his mouth. Grabbing his shirt and weapons, he backed out the door, gagging.

  Charlisse rubbed her stinging cheek. Despite her situation, she couldn’t help but smile. The look on his face had been … well, indescribable.

  Chapter 37: To Catch a Pirate

  Merrick once again stood at the helm of the Redemption. Bathed and clean-shaven, he wore a fresh suit of clothes, complete with his full array of weapons. Though he loathed the violence they sometimes brought, he had to admit he felt more in control with cutlass, knives, and pistols within easy reach. Did that mean he didn’t trust God? He hoped not. For certainly today the Lord had proven his awesome power toward him. And Merrick had no intention of entering another battle for control with the God of the Universe—one he was sure to lose.

  He stretched his shoulder and winced. Miraculously, the pistol shot had gone clean through him, and Brighton had been able to patch up the wound before infection could set in. Another miracle from God. And still the Almighty performed yet another as the Redemption glided undetected away from the coastline of Jamaica, where she had been hidden just outside Kingston Harbor. After seven days of maddening confinement, Merrick had thought he would never again feel the wind of freedom blowing across his face—that he would never again guide his mighty ship across the vast, unpredictable sea. Yet here he was. Thank you, Father God. He looked up toward the darkening sky, where innumerable stars were beginning to peek out from behind the curtain of dusk, and smiled at a loving God who had rescued him from certain death.

  Sloane approached, carrying a cup of hot tea. The monkey sat calmly on his shoulder and grimaced at Merrick.

  “I see you’ve made a new friend in my absence.” Merrick took the tea.

  “Aye, Cap’n, ’twas a poor substitute fer yer company, to be sure.” Sloane scratched the creature on the head, and the monkey chattered in delight. “But the little thing sort o’ took to me after his master, Flint, got hisself run through by Edward.”

  “He belonged to Captain Flint, you say?” Merrick took a sip of his tea.

  “Aye he did, an’ when I went back to the Dead Reckonin’ to be inquirin’ about Miss Charlisse, I heard Edward done killed Cap’n Flint an’ taken off with her. This poor feller here was still hidin’ in the rafters o’ that vile place. He dropped onto me shoulder as if he’d known me all his life, an’ he’s been there ever since.” Sloane grinned. “Smart littl’ guy too.”

  Merrick nodded. “He was quite useful today.”

  Was it just that morning that he was to be executed? It seemed so long ago now. After evading the soldiers in a chase through the crowded streets of Port Royal, the old beggar, Rusty, Merrick, and his five crewmen—the only ones loyal enough to risk their lives in his rescue—had hidden in the dense jungle until nightfall.

  Merrick faced his friend. “If the good Lord had not used your courage and wits to rescue me, I’d be hanging from the dock right now with birds pecking at my flesh. I owe you my life.”

  The monkey jumped to Sloane’s other shoulder and began picking through his hair. The pirate looked down, shuffling his feet. “’Twas nothin’, really, Cap’n. You’d o’ done the same fer me. I knows that to be true.”

  Merrick nodded as Brighton and Rusty approached. “Cap’n, the old man has been fed and be resting below,” Brighton said, “but he’s anxious to be workin’.”

  “Tell him to regain his strength for now.” Merrick wasn’t sure what he would do with the vagrant, but he couldn’t, in good conscience, have left him behind to hang.

  “An’ this one here.” The doctor pointed to Rusty, who stood by with a gleeful look on his face. “He’s healthy an’ ready fer work.”

  “What is your skill, man?” Merrick asked.

  “On me last ship, Cap’n, I was a helmsman.”

  “Well, it just so happens I’m short a helmsman. I believe he and my ship’s carpenter gave me up for dead and joined another ship while I was in prison. Isn’t that so, Sloane?”

  “Har, that be true, Cap’n.”

  Merrick gestured for Rusty to take his place at the wheel, which the red-haired pirate did with enthusiasm.

  “Why thank ye, Cap’n. Where should I point ’er?”

  Merrick scanned the dark waters and jumped down to the main deck, as an apprehension overshadowed him. Where, in this vast ocean, could Edward be? Memories of his time spent sailing under the blackguard passed through his mind. In particular Edward’s favorite islands, his favorite hunting grounds. “Turn her three points off the bow, south by southeast!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Jackson,” he bellowed, “unfurl topsails and topgallants. I want us at full speed.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Jackson’s eyes lingered a little longer than usual on Merrick’s, and a hint of a smile touched his lips. Merrick nodded. “I’m glad I’m back too, Jackson.”

  Leaping to the foredeck, Merrick stood, hands on his hips, and listened to the familia
r snap of the wind as it caught the sails. The Redemption jolted, then sped off, slicing a trail of white foam through dark waters set aglitter by the light of a half moon. Somewhere out there Charlisse was held captive by one of the most vicious pirates ever to prowl these waters. He was also her father, and Merrick hoped that fact alone would prevent the scoundrel from doing her any real harm. “Oh, Lord, help me to find her. Please protect her until I can,” he whispered into the wind. The sea raged in a swirl of obscure uncertainty, like the emotions within him.

  Sloane came up beside him. “Ye know the gov’nor will prob’ly send a war ship to hunt ye down.”

  Merrick smiled. “I’d be disappointed if he didn’t.”

  Sloane chuckled. “That sounds like a bit o’ fun, Cap’n, bein’ on the run again, jist like the ole days, eh?” His eyes twinkled, and the monkey on his shoulder nodded and grinned.

  Jackson approached. “Beggin’ your pardon, Cap’n, but where might we be goin’?”

  Merrick directed his gaze to the dark void of the sea. “To catch a pirate.”

  Chapter 38: Paternal Instinct

  The thudding of boots and clamor of voices startled Charlisse from her sleep. The door flew open, crashing against the wall, and in walked her father, followed by another pirate—a boy of no more than thirteen years. When Edward saw Charlisse, a rush of scarlet suffused his already ruddy face. He grabbed her arm and dragged her from the cabin. At first, she thought he was taking her back to her cell in the hold, but instead of going down the ladder, he hauled her up on deck, his tight grip squeezing the blood from her arm.

  Sunlight and a blast of wind slapped her face as a thousand terrifying thoughts invaded her mind. Why was her father so angry? What did he intend to do with her? Maybe he was going to make her walk the plank with a cannonball tied to her feet, plunging her to the dark void of Davy Jones’ locker.

  He dragged her across the deck and yanked her up the ladder to the foredeck, halting behind his nephew. Kent stood with his back to them, staring off the bow of the ship. His shoulders flinched, but he remained anchored in place.

  “What be the meanin’ o’ this, Kent?” Edward bellowed.

  Kent slowly turned around, glanced at Charlisse, and then faced Edward with a look of innocence. “Whatever do you mean, Captain?”

  Edward growled. “Ye know very well what I mean, ye insubordinate knave, and don’t be thinkin’ ye can play me fer a fool like ye did Merrick. I’ll have none o’ that aboard me ship, by thunder, or I’ll have yer innards strung up on the yardarm!”

  At that moment, Edward the Terror more than lived up to his nickname. He stood at least a head taller than Kent, his shadow swallowing him up as if he were naught but a pup. The long gray hair that blew behind him spoke of a wisdom that came from experience rather than the feebleness of old age. He wore a captain’s hat with a large ostrich plume that teased Kent as it fluttered in the breeze. His growing anger flowed down through his fingers to Charlisse’s arm. She winced in pain.

  “You did not have me permission to take her to yer quarters.”

  Kent lifted his chin, but the slight twitch of his upper lip betrayed his fear. “When you left her below to die, I assumed—”

  “Well, ye assumed incorrectly!” Edward roared.

  Kent cocked a brow. “I fail to understand why I cannot have her when it’s obvious you want nothing to do with her … Captain.”

  “Because she’s me daughter and that’s the end of it.” Edward glanced at Charlisse. His features softened, and he released his grasp.

  She rubbed her arm. Did he just call me his daughter?

  Edward swung his gaze back to Kent. “You’re to keep yer hands off her, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Tense silence stretched between the two men. Arrows of challenge shot from both their gazes. A sail snapped in the wind. Saltwater sprayed over the bow, showering them as the ship plunged through the sea. Neither man budged.

  The pirates congregated on the main deck in anticipation of a fight. A strand of Kent’s hair came loose from his tie and blew across his cheek. He inched his hand to the hilt of his cutlass. Edward remained calm, undaunted by the impertinence of his nephew.

  “Do not defy me, boy. Ye’ll not live to regret it.” Her father’s gruff voice sent a shiver through Charlisse.

  She took a tentative step back from the ensuing quarrel, her emotions awhirl. Days ago, her father had spewed insults about her mother and then left Charlisse imprisoned in the hold to die. Now he stood ready to risk his life to defend her honor. Was it possible there was more to this man? Could he actually care for her—or was this but some prideful defense of his territory? Regardless, Edward’s surge of parental protection brought her hope. She only prayed to God it sprang from fatherly love.

  A brief wave of contrition flickered across Kent’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something sinister as if he’d been taken over by a demonic presence. He stretched his frame into an unyielding stance. “I grow weary of everyone and everything keeping me from this woman!”

  “Sail Ho!” a voice yelled from the crosstrees.

  Edward shielded his eyes and scanned the horizon. “Where away, Perkins?” he called to the man aloft.

  “Two points off the starboard bow!”

  Edward glared back at his nephew. “Will ye be drawin’ yer sword on me now? If so, be quick about it. I’ve got other business to attend to.”

  Kent rubbed the hilt of his cutlass and returned Edward’s challenging stare. He snapped a wayward strand of hair behind him. The sun’s searing rays pelted over the ship, bouncing off the deck in sizzling waves. Sweat trickled down his neck. He dipped his head. “I would never harm my own uncle.”

  Grunting, Edward dismissed him with a wave, and stomped down the ladder to the main deck.

  Kent’s face flared to the color of ripe plums as he studied Edward’s retreating form. And for a minute, Charlisse thought he would charge him. But then he whipped around and stared over the sea.

  Charlisse backed against the foremast and followed the direction of the men’s gazes. White sails appeared on the horizon.

  When her father lowered the scope, he growled something unintelligible and spat to the side. Marching closer to the railing, he held the glass to his eye again. Finally, he handed it back to the pirate who had brought it, and sighed.

  “Who is it, Cap’n?” the pirate asked.

  “It’s the Redemption.”

  Chapter 39: To the Rescue

  The Redemption. Charlisse’s heart jumped at the sound of that mighty ship’s name. She dashed to the railing to get a closer look, but saw only a white blur on the horizon. Oh, Lord, could it be Merrick? Afraid to hope, she tried to quell the frantic beating of her heart.

  Edward stomped across the deck, cursing and barking orders to his crew.

  Kent turned to Charlisse. “Rest assured, miss, it is not him. Your precious Merrick is long dead, and his rancid remains are hanging in the town square at Port Royal for the mockery of the crowd and the feasting of the fowls.” He grinned, gazing toward the ship. “I doubt you would find him so attractive now.”

  “I assure you, sir, I would prefer the company of his decaying corpse to you in your finest attire.” She lifted her chin and moved farther down the railing.

  “Brenton, take the lady to my cabin,” Edward shouted.

  Charlisse turned to look at her father, who had already leapt to the foredeck and was bellowing orders to the pirates climbing the ratlines. “Fa … Captain, please don’t send me below.”

  Edward swerved to face her.

  “What if we are fired upon and the blast hits me?”

  “No one dares fire on Edward the Terror!” He bellowed, sending her back a step, then softened his tone. “Besides, I don’t want ye in me way.”

  “I won’t be in your way.” Charlisse offered him a pleading look as a stocky pirate grabbed her arm. “Please.”

  Edward stared at her; an odd expression melted the ange
r from his face. Just for a second. Then it was gone. “Take ’er below, I’ve no time for her girlish whining,” he ordered, turning away.

  The pirate yanked her down the companionway, then thrust her into Edward’s cabin and slammed the door.

  Charlisse flew to the oval window. Oh, Lord, have you indeed saved Merrick and sent him to my rescue? It was far more than she could have hoped. But why not? Was anything impossible for God? Hadn’t he protected her time and time again? Still she doubted. Hanging her head, she asked forgiveness for her lack of faith and prayed that Merrick was indeed the one pursuing them.

  ♥♥♥

  Edward the Terror stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the errant intruder. It was rare that another pirate ship dared to approach the Hades’ Revenge, yet alone bear down on her at full speed. Could some cruel twist of fate have allowed Merrick to escape the hangman’s noose? The thought set Edward’s nerves on edge. Merrick was the only man who had ever bested him—both at sea and on land. For one brief moment, he considered fleeing from the fast-approaching ship—hoisting all sails and hoping his newly careened schooner could outrun the Redemption. But he had never run from a fight in his life, and he wasn’t going to start now.

  Kent approached and stood by Edward’s side, animosity igniting the air between them. Ignoring it, Edward lifted the glass to his eye, trying to identify the commander of the ship. The bowsprit of the Redemption nodded at him in recognition above cascades of white foam that spread out over the ship’s bow. Captain Merrick’s colors could plainly be seen flying in the wind above the head of the mainmast.

  Edward turned to Kent. “Turn ’er hard about. Beat to quarters.”

  Kent strode away, repeating the orders to the crew.

  With straining cordage and creaking blocks, the ship swung around. “Furl topsails and gallants,” Edward ordered, sending men scrambling into the shrouds.

  The Redemption had the weather gauge. Edward must steer the Hades’ Revenge on a southwesterly course in order to circle around her and end up on her windward quarter, where the advantage would be his.