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

by Marylu Tyndall

  “If it don’t be Cap’n Merrick,” a squeaky voice said. Merrick turned to see a former shipmate of his.

  “I don’t have time for this right now, Hank.” He pushed the cutlass away with one finger.

  “Oh, I think ye do, ole friend.” Hank turned his quid and spat, then grinned through blackened teeth. “I’ve a score to settle with ye.”

  Drawing his cutlass, Merrick met the traitor’s challenge. Hilt to hilt, he forced him backward through the bloody fray. Wide eyed, the man struggled to stay afoot, meeting each blow with quivering sword. Finally, Merrick backed him against the railing, knocked the cutlass from his grasp, and shoved him over the side. Panting, he watched the man plunge into the sea, then rise to the surface, gasping for air. “Now we’re settled.”

  Merrick rushed to Charlisse. Wrenching the man’s arms from her throat, he slugged him across his jaw. The pirate folded to the deck as Charlisse, wheezing and coughing, also started to fall. Merrick caught her in his arms, shielding her with his body, and examined her for wounds.

  “You’re alive.” She croaked, still struggling for air.

  “Of course. How could I die without rescuing my fair maiden?” Finally she relaxed and her breathing settled. He kissed her forehead, then stroked her face. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No.” She smiled, her eyes shimmering with so much love, it set his heart aflame.

  “Now get below,” he ordered, guiding her toward the ladder. Immediately a cutlass came at him. He lifted his own to ward off the blow and pushed the assailant back, away from Charlisse. Two more men advanced upon him. There was no time to see if she had obeyed his command.

  In a flash of red hair, Rusty swung to his captain’s aid. Within minutes, the two men prevailed against the attacking pirates, sending them unconscious to the deck. Merrick clapped Rusty on the back, nodding in approval of his new friend’s skill with a sword before he spun and fought off another pirate. Gray hair drew his gaze to Edward on the quarterdeck. Rage suffocated his thoughts as he barreled toward his nemesis, flying up the ladder, cutlass in hand.

  The captain had just killed two of Merrick’s men, their bodies strewn at his feet. Sweat dripped from his face as he leaned over to catch his breath. He looked up as Merrick approached. Fear—or perhaps remorse—flickered across his gaze.

  “So it’s come down to this, has it, Merrick?” he said, panting.

  “By your choice.” Merrick clutched his cutlass, waiting for Edward’s first blow.

  Instead, Edward poked his sword into the deck and leaned on the hilt. Something was different about the man. His blue eyes were no longer covered with a glaze of hatred and defiance.

  “So you’re to kill me then?” Edward asked. “Captain Merrick, the great avenger of all evil.”

  “Not all evil,” Merrick said. “Only the murder of innocent people.”

  “Ah.” A crooked grin spread across Edward’s mouth. “’Tis the Indian village you speak of.”

  Merrick lifted his cutlass, his heart aflame with rage. Yet Edward made no move. “Fight me!”

  The derisive grin remained on Edward’s lips as he stood staunchly in place, though his gaze was full of sorrow. Confusion wrestled with Merrick’s anger. He could slice Edward in half with one swing. Why didn’t the man defend himself? Visions of the mutilated bodies of Merrick’s friends flashed through his mind. He blinked, trying to push them away. He wanted to kill Edward. God help him, he knew it was wrong, but the urge consumed him.

  Edward rolled his eyes and sighed. “What are ye waitin’ for? Ye always were a yellow-bellied coward.”

  Merrick gripped his cutlass, tightening his muscles. A flash of blond hair obscured his vision as Charlisse rushed in front of her father. “No, please don’t!” she pleaded, holding up her hand to stay Merrick’s advance. “Please don’t kill him.” Her eyes swelled with tears.

  Fearing for her safety, Merrick dropped his sword and pulled her away from Edward. But Charlisse yanked her arm from his grasp and returned to stand between the two men, glaring at them. “Hasn’t there been enough killing?”

  Edward’s eyes widened and his mouth opened as he stared at his daughter. Thunder rumbled in the distance as wind tossed both father’s and daughter’s wavy hair. Pulling his sword from the deck, Edward returned it to its scabbard and sighed. “Perhaps she’s right.” He looked at Merrick.

  Still gripping his cutlass, Merrick tried to smother the fury that tore at his soul. “Will there ever be enough killing to suit you?”

  Edward shifted his stance, his eyes squinting. “I believe I’ve had my fill.” A glimmer of a smile lifted his cracked lips. Charlisse turned to face him, and Merrick saw warmth in Edward’s gaze as he looked at his daughter. Yet Merrick could not quell the grisly images of his butchered friends. Rage burned his fingertips as they clenched the hilt of his cutlass.

  Charlisse swung around, her glistening eyes pleading with him. “People change. Forgive him as you have been forgiven.”

  The words chimed like a sacred gong inside of him. Moments passed. She was right, of course. This angel before him—this woman who had disowned God—knew the Almighty better than Merrick in the end. His hatred melting, he sheathed his cutlass. A hint of moisture appeared in Edward’s eyes. He turned aside just as three pirates plunged onto the deck from the ratlines above. Merrick drew his cutlass again and engaged one of them while the other two attacked Edward.

  “Go below!” Merrick ordered Charlisse. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her blond curls descending the quarterdeck stairs.

  ♥♥♥

  The battle raged above as Charlisse fell onto the bed. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. But no reaction came except the constant trembling that spread from her heart to each limb. She knelt to pray.

  Boots scuffed the floorboards behind her. No doubt Merrick had come to ensure her safety. Swerving, she smiled, ready to rush into his arms.

  Her eyes locked upon Kent’s.

  “Hello, my wayward blossom,” he said with a sneer.

  His dark curly hair was slicked back with a grease that reminded Charlisse of the oil of deceit that dripped from his lips every time he spoke.

  “It seems our time together is always interrupted, my love.” He shook his head, sauntering toward her. “And now it appears that, as you had hoped, your beloved Merrick has come to rescue you.” His gaze steady, he pulled a knife from his baldric.

  “Too bad it will be such a short-lived hope for the both of you.”

  Glancing to her left, she grabbed the lantern from the table and threw it at him. He ducked. It crashed to the floor behind him, sending slivers of glass over the floorboards.

  A wicked grin spread across his lips.

  She overturned a chair in front of him. He pushed it aside without effort and gave a humorless laugh. “Come now, my sweet. Quit playing games. You know how this upsets me.”

  She bolted for the door, skirting the table to avoid him, but he flung himself in her path, grabbed her arm, and twisted her around.

  Holding the blade to her throat, Kent dragged her out the door and up the stairs. When he reached the deck, he strode defiantly through the skirmish to the leeward rail and backed against it. Charlisse struggled as the sharp knife bit into her skin.

  Chapter 41: Kent’s Last Stand

  A familiar voice slithered over Merrick’s ears—a voice he had hoped never to hear again, a voice that now sent a chill through his heart. He looked up. Kent emerged from below, holding a knife to Charlisse’s throat. Edward glanced up too. Both men abandoned their opponents. Merrick jumped over the quarterdeck railing and landed with a thud on the main deck while Edward rushed down the ladder, sword in hand.

  “Hold up there, boys.” Kent leaned over Charlisse, pressing the blade against her creamy skin. “I’ve got a bargain to make with you.” His eyes flickered with excitement. Merrick and Edward halted, brandishing their swords before them.

  “What are ye up to, boy?” Edward stormed. />
  But Merrick could focus on nothing save the tiny stream of blood that slid down Charlisse’s neck. How could he have forgotten about Kent? He cursed himself as each nerve in his body lit like a fuse. The fighting faded around them, drawing the pirates’ gazes to this new challenge.

  “Ah, I see I’ve gotten your attention.” Kent’s dark brows lifted. “Captain darling,” he spoke to Edward, “you are in my debt, sir, for if I had not stopped this embarrassing display, I fear you and your men would soon be dead.” He sighed, feigning disappointment. “A tragedy for such a famed pirate as yourself.”

  Edward lunged toward Kent.

  “Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t be doing that.”

  “Let her go, Kent,” Merrick ordered. “This is between you and me. Quit hiding behind the skirt of a lady.” His eyes met Charlisse’s. Fear and desperation clouded their usual blue clarity. He clenched his fist on the hilt of his cutlass, resisting the urge to slice the young cockerel in two.

  “But don’t you see, Merrick, this lovely lady has everything to do with it.” Amusement sparked across Kent’s eyes. “She is, after all, the reason for your visit to our fair ship, is she not?” He paused. “This is my proposal. You and your band of worthless ingrates will leave the Hades’ Revenge, scamper back to your little ship and sail far away.”

  “And why would I do that?” Merrick asked.

  “Because, my dear captain, if you don’t, I’ll be forced to slice your fair lady’s neck.” His keen eyes turned hard and cold.

  Growling, Edward leapt toward Kent, but Merrick held him back. Not that he cared if the two of them killed each other, but Charlisse would get hurt in the process. Of that he had no doubt. “If you kill her, what reason do I have not to cut you to pieces?”

  “None, I suppose,” Kent said. “But look around you, Captain—what have I got to lose? If I release her, you will win this battle, and I and this crew will find ourselves either dead or your prisoners. If I kill her, you will still win this battle. The only difference is, in one case she lives, and the other she dies.” His mustache twitched above an insolent grin. He tightened his arm across her chest, and held her in place with the sharp point of his blade. “But if I threaten to kill her and you believe that I shall, then you will retreat. The lady will live—just not with you.” He buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath, smiling. “She will learn to love me in time. And I assure you, I will give her cause to forget all about you.”

  Merrick glared at Kent, contemplating the ultimatum.

  Edward, on the other hand, did not hold his temper so well. His face fumed so red and swollen, it seemed it would burst.

  “Ye’ll be doin’ nothin’ of the kind,” he bellowed, his eyes black slits. “After Merrick and his men leave, I’m still the cap’n of this ship, and ye’ll not be touchin’ me daughter!”

  Merrick started, surprised by Edward’s declaration.

  Kent chuckled. “Oh, I forgot about you, Uncle.” He smiled unpleasantly. “There’ll be no problem there, for you will be on board the Redemption with your good friend here.” He nodded toward Merrick. “And I’ll be the new captain of the Hades’ Revenge.”

  Edward charged Kent, cutlass in hand. “Enough of this foolery, ye young halfwit. Unhand me daughter!”

  Kent stumbled backward. Charlisse gasped and struggled as the knife dug deeper into her skin, releasing a wider stream of blood.

  Merrick lunged forward, but stopped when he saw the deranged look in Kent’s eyes.

  Sheathing his sword, Edward tried to pry the knife from Kent’s grasp. The two men struggled. Charlisse gasped. Edward’s blue eyes widened. Shock claimed his features. Clutching his midsection, he staggered backward, his gaze shifting to Kent with a look of bewilderment. He glanced down, staring at the hilt of a dagger protruding from his stomach. Pulling it from his gut, he examined the bloody blade curiously, as if he could not fathom how it had gotten there. A red splotch blossomed on his waistcoat, expanding in a purple death march across the blue fabric. The dagger fell from his hand and clanked to the deck. Edward stumbled, grabbed his midsection, and toppled, moaning.

  Charlisse cried out, struggling to be free, but the sharp blade at her throat kept her in place. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Edward’s crew shifted restlessly, grumbling. Yet not one made a move on Kent.

  Kent shifted the knife to point at Merrick, tightening his grip on Charlisse with his other hand. A crazed look sparked from his eyes. “Sheath your cutlass. You and your crew will take your leave now.”

  Merrick’s mind raced, searching for his next move—one that would not end in Charlisse’s death. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, but he did not avert his gaze from Kent. The man was volatile, fearful, and clearly outnumbered. Sooner or later he would make a mistake.

  Finally, Merrick decided it was best to concede. “As you wish.” Then with a glance at Sloane, he nodded for his crew to proceed toward the Redemption.

  Kent backed up farther against the railing, his lips twisting in a grin. Merrick’s crew shuffled begrudgingly toward their ship amidst a barrage of insults from Edward’s men.

  Charlisse’s wide eyes locked on Merrick’s. “Don’t leave me here with him,” she squeaked out in a scratchy voice.

  Kent yanked her back, raising the knife under her chin. “Silence, wench!”

  Merrick froze, arresting every urge within him to pounce on Kent and be done with this madness.

  Charlisse’s head tilted upward to avoid the blade. A tear spilled from her right eye and slid into her hair. “Let him kill me. I’d rather be dead then his mistress.”

  “I said silence!” Kent pressed the blade. It pierced her skin, and she choked out a sob.

  Merrick clenched his fists and glanced at Sloane. The pirate pointed up, then down, then covered his eyes with his hands.

  “What are you doing, you crazy old man?” Kent shouted. “Stop that and be gone with you!”

  Sloane shrugged and fell in line behind his shipmates.

  The crew of the Hades’ Revenge came forward, continuing to sling obscenities at the retreating pirates—willing, it seemed, to forget the attack on their captain and follow a new leader who promised immediate victory. Kent stood defiantly with knife outstretched, eyeing Merrick as he took his place behind Sloane.

  Where there was life in Charlisse’s eyes, there was only death in his. Where there was love and joy and caring in hers, in his there was hate and selfishness—how completely different two members of the same family could be.

  Droplets of sweat beaded on the young pirate’s forehead. His knife quivered in his hand. He searched Merrick’s eyes as if he knew his victory was not yet secure. “Be gone with you! Hurry up!”

  Sloane cleared his throat. With fingers signaling into the wind, he nodded his head toward Kent.

  “Are you daft, you insufferable fool?” Kent pointed his blade at Sloane. “Stop that or I’ll lance you to the keel and let the barnacles leech your bones dry!”

  With a slight chuckle, Sloane turned away.

  Kent shifted the blade toward Merrick. “You too. Move! Or I’ll run you through.”

  A soft chattering filled the air.

  Merrick looked up.

  Kent followed his gaze.

  Sloane’s monkey sprang onto Kent’s shoulders and covered his eyes with two little hands. He stumbled backward. Charlisse shrieked. Without releasing her, Kent jerked back and forth, trying to shake the creature’s hold on his neck. His knife sliced through the air in front of him, daring anyone to come near.

  Chapter 42: Oh, Death, Where is Thy Sting?

  “To battle, men!” Merrick shouted, sending his crew swarming back over the bulwarks. The clank of sword and crack of pistol accompanied the roar of thunder above as Merrick shoved his way toward Kent.

  With one hand, he wrenched the knife from Kent’s grasp while with the other, he struck him in the jaw. Kent toppled to the deck.

  Charlisse rushed into Merri
ck’s arms, sobbing.

  “You’re all right now,” He engulfed her in his embrace, keeping an eye on Kent, who floundered on the deck like a fish out of water.

  Plucking a handkerchief from his pocket, Merrick pressed it on Charlisse’s neck, relieved the wound did not appear too deep. He wiped away her tears with his thumb. Nothing but appreciation and love reflected in her liquid-blue eyes. Drawing her near, he kissed her forehead and waited for her shuddering to cease.

  Instead, she pushed from him with a shriek and ran to her father’s side. “How could I have forgotten?” Kneeling, she took his hand in hers.

  One eye opened from within a face that looked pale against a blood-drenched waistcoat. Edward offered her a feeble smile.

  “Father,” Charlisse cried.

  Turning from the sad scene, Merrick ordered his men to lock Edward’s crew—along with Kent—in the hold. Then with Jackson’s assistance, he carried Edward to his cabin and summoned Brighton.

  Leaning in the doorway, Merrick watched Charlisse as she sat by her father’s side. He could not deny some surprise at the sentiment that seemed to exist between them. It was hard to imagine Edward the Terror capable of any depth of feeling toward anyone—even his own daughter. Yet Merrick had witnessed his defense of Charlisse at the risk of his own life, an action that could only have sprung from a father’s love.

  The sweet treasure of a girl who now held her father’s hand so affectionately acted as though Edward had been a doting father all his life. Truly, she possessed a heart of gold—capable of melting the hard shell of corruption from every scoundrel who crossed her path. If it hadn’t been for her intervention, Merrick feared he would have given in to his fury and killed Edward. Now he realized how wrong that would have been, for only God had the right to take a life. Once again, Merrick had tried to take control back from God—had tried to take matters into his own hands, as if the good Lord couldn’t handle things himself. From now on he determined to trust God, no matter what happened.