by Hatch, Donna
Elise set down her cup and leaned back in her chair. “Who are you when you aren’t playing a role?”
He froze, his eyes locked with hers while wariness leaped into the depths of his aquamarine gaze. Remembering himself, he continued chewing.
When he made no reply, she added, “When you played the earl’s son, you seemed quite convincing, but there were moments when I could tell it did not come quite as naturally as you attempted to portray. And now, again, you seem to be trying too hard to project an image that isn’t quite who you are. So, who are you really?”
He glanced in the direction Nan had gone and replied in a hushed voice. “I have no idea. I haven’t seen the real me in years.” He leaped to his feet. “I need to see to the ship.” At the door he paused, “For your own safety, stay near the tavern. There are worse reprobates than I who live here. Nan will get you anything you want. I’ll return for you when I can.”
Jared strode out the door in graceful, silent strides, but Elise couldn’t shake the impression that he’d fled scared.
Nan re-entered the room, humming off-key. “Never thought I’d see our good cap’n fall for the charms of a lady.” She snickered. “ ’E’s fallen hard, ’e ’as.”
“I doubt very much he’s fallen for me, Nan.”
“ ’E’s never brought ’nother lady ’ome, I kin tell ye that.”
“The circumstances of my presence here are somewhat unique.”
“Not just that, yer ladyship. It’s the way ’e looks at ye. Oh, ’e don’t want to, but ’e is.”
“He is…?”
“In love wit’ ye.”
Elise looked away.
“And yer in love wit’ ’im just as much, but yer scart. ’E’s not the man ye thought ye wanted. Least, not on the outside. But in ’ere,” she tapped her chest in the proximity of her heart. “In ’ere, ’e’s a right good man. Better ’n most.” She hummed off key as she trimmed the lamps and swept the floor.
After eating her fill, Elise arose. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Nan paused with the broom in her hand. “Yer bath water’s warm. Ye kin bathe in the kitchen, I’ll stand watch out ’ere. Leave yer things to be washed and I’ll see to ’em.”
“You’re very kind.”
Nan shrugged and made a pshaw sound. “Jack gave me the place and don’t never ask for ’is share back. Just wants food and a place to sleep, when ’e come, is all. Least I kin do is take care of ’is lady.”
Elise murmured something appropriate, she hoped, and went into the kitchen. She sank in the heavenly clean, warm water. The soap was rough and unscented, and the tub too small to truly immerse herself, but having clean skin eclipsed any disappointment from the unsophisticated surroundings.
Nan came in humming, scooped up Elise’s discarded clothing, and went outside.
After scrubbing her skin and hair, Elise dried and dressed. Jared had been most thorough. In the bundle he’d brought her, she found all the appropriate undergarments and a gown which fit reasonably well. Simple and unadorned, but clean.
She wondered if Jared had enlisted help, or if he truly knew this much about a woman’s unmentionables. Whatever else he was, the man she knew as Jared certainly had moments of thoughtfulness. A great number of them, truth be told.
If only she could sail away with him forever and be totally free.
CHAPTER 21
Jared glanced down at Elise. She leaned on the bulwark near the prow of the Mistress, smiling as the salt sprayed her face. Several strands of hair had escaped the braid hanging down her back and blew about her riotously. He liked the less-than-immaculately coiffed Elise standing next to him even better than the perfect lady in England.
“Colin would love this,” she mused.
“I’ll have you home within the week,” Jared assured her.
She looked up at him searchingly. “I have to admit, I am beginning to understand why you love the sea. Minus the danger of storms and reefs, of course.”
“Of course.” His smile warmed her.
They’d restocked the ship on the island, made arrangements for Leandro’s former ship to be refitted, and departed for England.
He ached to tell her the truth about himself; that he served his country as a spy for the crown ; that he wasn’t really a pirate. But if the crew learned his plan to turn the ship over to the authorities and that he’d negotiated for the end to their way of life, they’d shoot him immediately. Or worse. Sailors had any number of horrible and painful ways to administer death. They would not hesitate to use one of those methods upon him.
Except possibly Dubois. The man had been a good friend from the beginning, but Jared could not predict with any confidence what Dubois would do when faced with the truth about his captain. Would he cheerfully agree to the terms of the pardon, thanking his fortune that he was being spared the noose? Or would he give Jared a cold stare and condemn him as a traitor to their brotherhood? Either way, his friendship with the Frenchman would soon come to an end. The knowledge filled him with a hollow pain.
And Elise, how would she react when he told her? Women were unpredictable. Would she be relived he was a loyal Englishman or angry he’d kept such a big secret from her? She appeared to have affection for him, even though she believed him to be a pirate. If that were true, her love would be boundless.
Soon, they’d be in England and he’d tell her everything. Once she knew the truth, his heart would be completely at her mercy. He would be asking her to marry his very flawed self, which might be difficult for her to accept in a husband.
“You’re looking very serious, Captain.” Elise’s soft voice washed over him.
“Sail ho!” the lookout called.
“Where away?” Jared shouted up.
“Fine on the larboard bow.”
Jared grabbed his spyglass. He focused the glass on the sails and waited for them to come near enough to reveal their ship’s identity. If she were a merchant ship, his crew would demand they take her but Jared could not condone the act. Not now.
The other ship approached. It wasn’t a merchant ship, but something far worse. His stomach gave a lurch.
Dubois appeared at his side. “Is that what I think it is?”
Jared swore under his breath. “British Navy.”
“All hands on deck!” Dubois ordered.
With pounding heart, Jared thrust the glass back and ran to the captain’s quarters, swearing all the way.
The arrival of the navy could not have come at a worse time. In a few days, this ship would be sold, refitted, and employed in honest work, and he would return to being Jared Amesbury the gentleman. His crew would be pardoned and given enough money to find legitimate employment.
The Secret Service had made no promises for intervention if he were apprehended and tried for piracy. He fit into the category of a non-uniformed spy, which meant no aid would come if he were in danger. Moreover, his mission technically ended the moment he and Greymore exposed Von Barondy as O Ladrão. Everything he’d done since then had been without orders from the Secret Service. They’d view him as a renegade. A pirate.
If he couldn’t outrun the frigate, he’d be forced to stand and fight his own countrymen. Otherwise, they would be captured and executed. He would die with his crew.
He unlocked his trunk and fished through the different flags he stowed there. He chose a Portuguese flag. To his knowledge, the British Navy had no particular quarrel with Portugal at the moment, nor would there be much chance anyone on board the naval ship could speak the language. He ran back up and handed it off, shouting for it to be hoisted immediately.
“Gutierrez, make yourself visible. You, too, Anakoni!” Anakoni’s Hawaiian features would help him pass for a Portuguese man Jared hoped. “Pray they see our Portuguese flag and nothing else,” he added to no one in particular.
“Why?” Elise asked.
“Because we don’t look like a merchant ship.”
“What do we look like?”
&
nbsp; “A ship built for speed and modified to carry more guns. A pirate ship. We’re a lot bigger than the normal pirate sloop, but if they take a good look, they’ll figure it out.”
“Why not just raise a British flag?”
“Because they might come over to socialize. Or exchange mail. And we do not want to get friendly with them.”
He’d rather draw a knife across his own wrist than fight the British Navy. He couldn’t bear the thought of firing upon his own countrymen, nor did he wish to risk injury and death to his crew.
And Elise. Between shot, flying debris, gunfire, and the risk of fire or sinking, she could be harmed. The thought left him cold and shaking.
He’d been forced to fire on the Venture while Leandro held Elise prisoner, and had ordered the gunners keep their fire away from the proximity of the foremast where she’d been tied.
The navy had no reason to have a care with their aim.
He whirled to face Elise, noting she wore the clothing he’d gotten for her on the island. “Go change into your gown. You need to be dressed as a lady. O’Brian!”
“Sir?”
“If they come after us, we’ll try to outrun them. If they engage us in battle, take Mrs. Berkley on the longboat and head away from us. When it’s over, come back. If we lose, flag down the frigate and get her on board. Tell them you helped her escape during the battle.”
“You’re asking me to desert you?” O’Brian said, aghast.
“I’m asking you to protect the lady.”
“I am not abandoning you,” Elise said with a determined glare.
Both men ignored her.
“I could take her to the island we passed an hour ago.” O’Brian gestured over his shoulder.
Jared shook his head. “It’s uninhabited and it may be weeks or months before a ship passes by and can pick her up.”
Elise folded her arms. “I am not jumping ship.”
Jared looked steadily at her. “Tell the navy captain you were my prisoner and O’Brian helped you.” To O’Brian, he said, “If you’re charged with piracy, you can become the king’s witness and testify against us.”
O’Brian paled. “You want me to betray my own shipmates?”
Elise grabbed Jared’s arm, her eyes narrowed in indignation. “I am not—”
“Elise!” Tension made him speak more harshly than he’d intended. He took her hand and softened his voice. “We may not have to resort to that. I’m just trying to think of the worst possible situation. If we have to fight, you cannot stand with us.”
“I can help. I can shoot a gun, you know I can.”
“And fire upon your own countrymen? Your friends’ brothers? Their husbands? Their sons?”
She froze. The determined glint in her eye faded. “I…I don’t want to leave you.”
“Are you willing to die here with us? Or later at the gibbet?”
She paled.
“Think of Colin. You must get home. He needs his mother.”
Her features crumpled in agony.
“She’s changed her heading, sir,” reported the lookout. “Intercept course.”
Dubois, who’d been silent throughout the exchange, glanced at Jared. “Retreat?”
“Run!”
The Frenchman shouted orders. A cacophony of voices and running feet erupted as they adjusted the lines, changing the sails until the ship heeled. Jared called out the coordinates and they laid in a course for the island they’d just passed. He hoped to hide there among the many inlets and outlets, if they could get there in time.
With all sails unfurled, and her superior sleek design built to outrun an enemy, the Sea Mistress pulled ahead.
The navy frigate gave chase, but fell behind. The tightness in Jared’s chest did not ease.
Dubois watched him narrowly. “It appears we’ve lost them.”
“It does appear so.”
“But?”
Jared shook his head, uneasiness tying in knots in his gut. Grimly, Dubois drummed his fingers on the bulwark.
Less than an hour later, the island they’d passed that morning came into view. Careful of the shallows and an offshore reef, they headed around the end of the island toward one of the many inlets; a perfect hiding place they’d often used in the past. They rounded the tip of the island.
And sailed right into the waiting guns of another navy frigate.
Jared’s heart dropped. This would not end well.
In minutes, the first frigate would catch up to them, and they’d be hopelessly outgunned with nowhere to run.
He glanced back at Elise. Wearing her afternoon gown and slippers, Elise sat under a sail rigged as shade on the quarterdeck. She pulled her eyes from the frigate and met Jared’s gaze, her face ashen.
“O’Brian! Now!” Jared shouted.
“Aye, sir.” The boy moved toward Elise.
The frigate guns fired, and a spread of shot landed a few feet from the bowsprit, sending a spray of water upward like a geyser.
Jared shouted orders he’d hoped, only hours ago, he would never again have to say. “Clear the deck and spread the sand. Douse the galley—” He stopped mid-sentence.
All hands stilled. Every head turned to him, waiting.
He drew a breath and looked each one of them in the eye while a second volley from the frigate fell into the ocean.
“Gentlemen. We face two British Naval frigates. We are outnumbered and outgunned. We could surrender and throw ourselves upon the mercy of the law.”
A few nervous chuckles came in reply.
“We can fight, most certainly to the death. Or you can take the longboats and jump ship. You might make it to the island.”
Another volley hurled toward them. One landed at the bow, tearing into the bulwark of the forecastle. The Mistress pitched slightly. No one moved. The faces of the men revealed their indecision and fear.
Jared swallowed against a dry throat. “Know this. No matter what you each decide, it’s been a pleasure to know you.” He turned. “Raise our true colors!”
Someone hoisted Black Jack’s colors, a blood-red dagger on a black field. An unreasonable surge of pride swelled at the sight of his ensign waving defiantly in the wind.
Three hands jumped ship and rowed toward the island. The rest prepared for battle. For death. They understood no quarter would be given.
Jared seized Elise and crushed her to him, molding her body to his and taking her mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss. When he released her, she stood stunned and shaken.
He cupped her face. “Tell Greymore what’s happened. He’ll notify my family.”
She nodded while tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Go home to your son, Mrs. Berkley.” He thrust her into O’Brian’s arms. “I’m counting on you, lad.”
“I won’t fail you, sir.”
“Do not, under any circumstances, board any ship during the battle.”
Gravely, O’Brian shook his head.
A longboat cast in the water near a naval battle would be a perilous place, but on board any ship while being fired upon by another, would be worse. Jared turned away and gave the order to prepare the guns.
The master gunner called, “Cut loose the guns and remove the tampions!” After the gun crews ran to remove the plugs protecting the muzzles, the gunner ordered, “Run out your guns!”
Jared glanced over his shoulder to ensure O’Brian was guiding Elise to a longboat. “Fire at will,” he ordered.
“Fire as your guns bear!” shouted the gunner.
Jared braced himself for the concussion as the gun crews on the port side of the Sea Mistress lit the fuses and sent their projectiles toward the frigate. Before the shot reached their target, tongues of flame flashed from the guns of the frigate and a volley sailed toward the Sea Mistress.
The boom of the guns firing reached his ears a moment later. He held onto the bulwark, anticipating the impact. It blasted with teeth-jarring force, tearing into the hull, overturning two guns, killing and
maiming their crews. Screams of the wounded and dying filled the air. Gunpowder and smoke burned eyes and nostrils.
“Right the guns and reload!” Jared ordered.
The gunner shouted at the port gun crews to reload and fire again. Several hands ran to right the upset guns while others either pulled bodies toward the center of the ship out of the way or threw them overboard. The guns sent out another round. Their shots hit the target, but the frigate answered with its own. Wood splintered and rained down upon them. The Sea Mistress shivered under the onslaught. Sailors fell wounded and bleeding. Some stared sightless into the blue sky. A boy lay in pieces at his feet.
Jared refused to number the dead, or even name them. He could grieve later, should he live that long.
The Sea Mistress continued to fire, inflicting her own devastation on the naval ship, but the damage paled in comparison to that exacted by His Majesty’s finest. Another round blasted his ship, killing the lucky ones, maiming the unlucky. The dead and wounded outnumbered the living. Throughout it all, he shouted orders and encouragement to his men. The crew struggled admirably to obey. Dubois rushed in to assist manning a gun.
When the master gunner fell during the next round, Jared leaped to take his place and kept all hands moving in a smooth rhythm of cooling, loading, and firing the guns. The Mistress sent out a volley that ripped a gaping hole in the broadside of the frigate and blew apart the main topmast.
The first frigate they’d been outrunning caught up to them and fired her forward guns.
Pinned between the two vessels, the Mistress shivered under the dual onslaught. Her mizzenmast exploded, raining wood, rigging, blocking, and torn sails upon the deck.
Then the first frigate circled, heeled sharply, and presented her broadside to the Sea Mistress’s bow.
His heart sank. “No. Please no,” Jared whispered.
She open-fired with all her starboard guns. A volley sizzled through the air and raked the Mistress from stem to stern.
Jared slammed into the deck. Another round from the other frigate blasted into their port broadside, destroying guns and crews. One ripped through the mainmast, sending a shower of splintering wood. The mast twisted, hovered, and fell like a great tree. It smashed what little remained of the starboard bulwark and slid slowly across the deck. The whole ship listed dangerously.
