James gripped the railing but ducked as another cannon volley hurled toward the ship, crashing into the railing further down, splinters flying in the air. The decking rumbled at the impact as the vessel rolled on the sea. A scream ignited along with men wailing and yelling, the crew and captain working to keep Olympus from sinking.
Clearwater stumbled beside him. “Quite a show, hey ole man!”
James grimaced. His friend’s sense of humor was ill-placed. “Show isn’t the phrase I’d use. More like hell, to be exact.”
“Aye, true.” Another volley had Clearwater latching onto the capstan next to them to keep from falling. A yelp caught their attention as another sailor fell to the decking, blood surging from the open wound in the man’s leg, one that left a trail as his fellow mate pulled him to the side. “But you’d have to admit, it is colorful.”
“Poor choice of words.” James yelled to be heard above the battle.
Despite Captain Sebastian’s claim that Olympus did not have the guns to repulse a pirate ship, they were standing their own at the moment against such odds. One that was ill-fated as the other ship loomed closer.
“Can you tell who it is we’re trying to stop?” Clearwater pushed.
With the other ship firing the first volley before it got close enough, the smoke filled the air, making it more difficult to find who it was. If he could only make out the pirate ship’s name…James grunted, frustration equal to the battle. He shook his head before maneuvering toward the aft, which was closer to the ship’s stern. There he’d find the ship’s name. If only it was…
There was a lull in the battle as the attacking ship was within range for a spokesman to yell across the expanse, demanding surrender. In that moment of steady decking, James with Clearwater in tow, moved to the end. Withdrawing the scope he’d borrowed, James peered down its tube and barely made out the letters. Equuleus. His heart skipped a beat. Eleanor…
“So,” his friend muttered as he positioned the scope. “We’ve found the ship.” He turned toward James as another cease fire came, along with the demands. “Not the best of ways, to be sure, as I fear the ever brave Captain Sebastian is giving us up to this pirate who stole Lady Windhaven.”
James gritted his teeth. “Sebastian is a puss,” he hissed. But a necessary one if this was the ship that Eleanor escaped to.
The slam of wood on wood reverberated the decking as the walking plank hit The Olympus’s railing. A boarding party, armed to the teeth, crossed. Being at the aft did a lot him prime seat in the spectacle. The few brave sailors threw down their swords as the first of the pirates arrived. They were a scurrilous lot. Barefoot and in clothes that were an allotment of tattered silk and ruffles, their hair far from fashionable and many wearing rings and earrings along with other pieces that James knew the cost far exceeded what any sailor made. With ample ease, they leapt onto the deck, swords at the ready only to be greeted with surrender.
The whole scene rubbed James wrong but he willed himself to remain still.
A tall man, flourished in a faded black frock coat, gray pants, and high-top boots joined the rest. He wore a feathered hat and the brim on it shielded most of his face from James’s view, but he could see the man’s long brown hair queued with a black silk tie and the gemstone rings adorned his fingers, fingers that were wrapped around the cutlass that gleamed in the sunlight. He strode up to Sebastian.
“Word comes to me that you are the captain.”
Sebastian gulped, though his shoulders remained locked. “Aye, I command Olympus.”
Even under the shade of his hat’s brim, the man smiled. “Excellent.”
The conversation faded from James’s ears. Not that he cared. He was too busy scanning the other ship for any sign of her. Eleanor, where are you?
“Do you see her?” Clearwater’s whispered.
James shook his head.
They stood to the side, near the rear of the ship. James tried to place himself not too close to the passage way to the lower decks and hold. No point standing in the way of these vermin, who crossed the distance between the two ships, wielding weapons and smarting looks of victory.
“They’re nothing more than pick-pockets,” Clearwater added, the disdain in his low tones easily detected.
“Then they’re fancy ones at that, carrying those swords the way they do.” James also noticed the pistols that were jammed into their waistbands. Resolute in case any of the crew or passengers resisted. A chill raced down his spine to think his beautiful wife was caught up with these villains…
As the pirates scurried about the ship, throwing sneers at the ship’s crew as they collected what few weapons the first officer and other high ranking sailors had. Some went below to pillage through the cabins for riches, while others searched those on deck. One wretched scoundrel stalked to James and Clearwater.
The man didn’t say a word as he rummaged through Clearwater’s frock.
“I dare say!” his friend hissed.
The pirate stopped and gave Clearwater an evil grin. “Aye, ’tis hard fer ye, but bett’r ta let me take while you still be breathin’.”
Clearwater’s eyes widened and he shut his mouth right as the pirate yanked the ring off his finger. He turned to James, who shot him a hard glare. The pirate righted himself and gave him a quick glance over.
“For dressin’ like a nabob, you ain’t carrin’ much.” He spat, taking the only fancy piece James had on him—a lace handkerchief.
James growled, watching the thief head to the next victim. It was the linen Eleanor had given him on their wedding night. Bastard!
Suddenly, there was a high-pitched scream from one of the cabins. James and Clearwater spun toward the cause and James inwardly laughed.
“Poor sot,” Clearwater murmured, still rubbing his naked fingers. “Only Lydia would argue with a pirate.”
It made James smile but it lasted only a second. Behind him, light footsteps on the crossing plank caught his attention. He shut his eyes and prayed for a moment then turned. The answer to his chase stood on the plank, tall as she could be. Eleanor. His heart skipped a beat and a smile came to his lips but the sight that it was her abruptly distorted by how she appeared. This was his wife?
“In all that is holy, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Clearwater’s surprise laced on each word, words that equaled the same thoughts as James. “She’s a bloody pirate?”
Standing tall and proud, Eleanor, the Lady of Windhaven, scanned the deck. The moment of her just there took James breath away. She was dressed in brown trousers that were shoved into the tops of black boots which were way too big for her. The white linen shirt, opened at the neck in, peeked out of the large faded black frock she wore. The straw hat that perched on her head wasn’t as large as the pirate captain’s but it had a brim to keep the sun off her face. He could see her sparkling blue eyes and sun-kissed cheeks that rose a bit as she smiled that devastatingly adorable grin he loved. And her hair, those long light brown curls he had run his fingers through was chopped to her shoulders and all disarrayed from the wind. In her hands, she too held a short sword. It made her look wild and exotic. A look he devoured like a trifle and demanded more. He was at a loss of words but what he couldn’t say, his body did.
Trying to take the vision before him in, of his lady, the woman of his dreams, James breathing stopped. Her eyes had glanced his way and for a moment, however short it was, he hoped she’d see him but she didn’t. Instead, her look stopped in the direction right of him, close to the mast where Sebastian stood. He and that leader of the pirates. The scene that unfolded cloudy his thoughts.
His wife, Eleanor, dressed like a pirate, turned her head toward the pirate captain. James was crushed because it was a deliberate search and when she gave the pirate her lop-sided grin with a wink to her eye, he moved to devastated. James knew that look. It was what she gave him, this coy smile and blink.
James stood, locked in place, his blood boiling, his mind fighting through the conf
usion and disbelief at what he saw.
“Ah, guess the Lady found another protector.” Clearwater shook his head. “Did she see you?”
He really didn’t hear him, nor anyone else. The pounding in his ears drowned out most of the surroundings. Why didn’t she see him?
His torture ended as the pirate ordered her back to the other ship and she jumped onto the plank and shot him a look over her shoulder, a wink of her eye, and she sauntered back across like a lady…dressed in pirate clothes, sword in hand. He watched, agonized, a knife twisting in his gut.
She’d forgotten him. She’d betrayed him by being with another man. Standing on the deck, feeling as if he were stark naked and vulnerable, he clenched his fists at this side. He needed control. What the hell had happened?
* * *
He couldn’t decide if he was mad at her for disobeying his command to not cross to the captured ship and be thrown in with him and the crew as pirates or if he’d follow her back. Her sashaying hips and that seductive smile she threw at him, looking over her shoulders as she climbed the plank, called to the animal in him. He so wanted to bury himself inside her – damn! It took him a minute to calm the beast within and to cool the flames of anger and lust to be able to return to the business before him. As he watched her reach his ship, he turned his attention back to this spineless captain and the treasure to be found.
What he hadn’t expected was the man to the side who gazed at him with hatred written plainly for all to see. Inwardly, he shrugged it off. Wasn’t he the one he heard dressed like a nabob but held no riches? He’d picked up the man’s scent, as it was, when Elle crossed and jumped into his arms. Not the ideal picture to give to a ship that was captured—he taught his crew well, to never show emotions outside elation of the capture and to never give attention to anyone, for fear the captives could find a use of that to needle a way into their bonds and get free.
But Elle wasn’t truly a pirate, despite her appearance and growing mannerism. Nor was she a thief. He’d plan to find her a drop point, though she tugged at his heart more and more each day, which was exactly why he needed to find that point now. Before more damage could be done. Irritated and frustrated, he wheeled on his heel toward his captive and hoped the man could squat miracles.
“The books you seek are in the captain’s quarters,” Sebastian grounded out. The captain gripped at his side, applying pressure to where he had been wounded.
“The manifest as well?”
At Sebastian’s nod, Trent pushed past him to the quarters and within minutes, found the books he needed. A quick perusal gave him the information he wanted and with a grin, closed one of the books, tucked it under his arm and left. On his way topside, he ran into Fitzgibbons.
“Find what your lookin’ for?” the first mate asked.
“Twin-fold.” He tapped the book in his grasp. “The men?”
“Aye, the hold is about clean’d, the ship’s treasures included. Though there is a lady, mos’ insistent we be leavin’ her bags.”
Trent laughed. “Nay.”
“Aye, that’s what I’d tole to the boy. Ladies can be such wick’d creatures.” He spat overboard in the waters below.
“And what of those two over there?” Trent tipped his head toward the back of the ship. “They give all the marks of nobility.”
“Aye. Possible ransom?”
Kidnapping added to the rest of his crimes. In the end, it all justified the means, he decided. Because they could be a link to the vile lord who took Rachel…or not, in which case, they’d be cash. He nodded. With his head slightly cocked, he strode casually to them, even letting his boots scuff on the decking. In taking his time, he assessed the two and made a couple quick decisions. He stopped before them and turned to the one on the right, the one who’s shoulders tightened and the man gritted his teeth.
“Lord?” he inquired.
The man’s gaze narrowed but didn’t answer.
Trent raised an eyebrow. “Refusal will do you no good. I have the manifests and your name will be listed.”
“Earl of Windhaven.”
“Aye, see? Did that truly hurt?” He waited but there was no comment. “Let me extend the hospitality of my ship, the Equuleus .” He gave a slight bow as he motioned the ship next to this one.
“What if we decline?”
The man next to him stared, his jaw dropping open with a state of shock on his face. “James,” he hissed. He didn’t look please, Trent noticed. In fact, this one paled as he studied them.
“My lord?”
“Viscount of Clearwater,” Windhaven spat.
“Certainly, Lord Clearwater, perhaps you can persuade your fellow lord to accept this invitation.” He glared at James as he yelled over his shoulder to Fitzgibbons. “Clear the decks! Put those not taking the opportunity into the dingy and burn her!”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n!”
* * *
“You’ll burn the ship? You can’t! This is — Ouch!” Clearwater winced as the other elbowed him with a hiss. He shot James a glare but James narrowed his gaze and gave a shake to his head, warning him to be quiet.
James knew this pirate captain concentrated on him, trying to decipher the message. Well, he could take that to hell! Instead, he turned the tables on him. “And who might you be to destroy property that isn’t yours?”
The man straightened and then bowed slightly, in a flourish. “Captain Cavendish, at your service.” He swept the hat from his head as his knees bent, then he straightened. “My lords, I invite you to join me and my crew on the Equuleus. This ship will no longer be a good vessel for your journey.”
James heard the small gasp from Clearwater, yet that was all his friend said. Enter the pirate’s domain. The promise of Eleanor was across that wooden beam. Her presence here puzzled him and it was one he’d unravel as soon as he could, if he could stay alive to do so. Pirates….he shook his head. To all the saints, he prayed furiously for help.
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Twenty
Something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her bones. As the pirates returned to the ship, they carried crates and barrels, talking joyfully on the catch. Among their ranks were some of the sailors from the other ship, not many but a few, their uniforms giving her pause for they didn’t act as if captives, more conversing amiably with the pirates. She tilted her head, straining to hear but couldn’t.
Also among the group came two men and a woman and they stood out boldly. Dressed in finer cloth, they moved with an elegance, like royalty. They weren’t talking nor did they look happy. In fact, the woman wore a scowl. When they hit the deck, two pirates escorted them down into the hold, where the treasures were kept.
Elle frowned. It was a mystery and one that rubbed her wrong. There was something about those people going below that struck a nerve deep inside her, one that beckoned her to follow them. She waited until the deck cleared. She padded across the planks, having kicked her boots off the moment she got back to the Equuleus—they pinched the balls of her feet because they were too big. Now she was thankful for bare feet as they helped quiet her approach.
What she discovered sent her heart into her throat. Below the deck, in the cavernous space of the hold, she looked past the hammocks of the crew and at the opposite end, all the treasures stacked away in crates and barrels, to the barred panel. She’d never really went that far in the hold nor cared what was in the back since the area made her queasy with the darkness and vermin that crawled through it. But now she looked and discovered that panel was connected to another to form a cage, one large enough to hold people.
She drowned the gasp that was almost audible when she saw their “guests” inside them, a padded lock on the doors. The woman stood in the corner, arms crossed and anger upon her face. One of the men paced, which was hard to do in the small space. The other one, the dark haired man, sat, almost lounging on the crate in the cell. Her gaze lingered upon him. He was dressed more casually than the other man, with his coat unbuttoned, th
e waistcoat beneath also undone, the ruffled shirt peeping obviously, and he missed a cravat that the other worn. His brown hair was cut short and clean, unlike Trent’s longer locks, and with his square jawline, he had a very masculine, very authoritative look, as if this situation of being held captive, did not phase him. Somehow, her inner soul nodded, as if confirming her assessment of him. Her stomach flipped. Not only did these captives move her, it also struck a nerve. She needed to talk to Trent.
No one seemed to notice her presence, but then again, she hadn’t gone far down the steps. So she slowly backtracked, heading back to the deck where she found him, books in hand, heading toward his cabin.
“Captain,” she called. He didn’t turn. “Trent!”
He dropped the books on the tabletop and snapped. “What?”
“We’ve gone to taking captives?”
He stared at her. “As I recall, my lady, you are a guest here. Therefore, they are not your captives.”
She frowned, confused, deciding to ignore that comment. Bending him around her finger was an option she might be able to use—later. So she chose a different line. “Why are there cages in the hold? Those were not designed for animals.”
He sat back in the straight back chair and glared. “They’re obviously nobility.” He ran fingers through his hair. “Do you recognize them?”
Elle bit her lower lip as she thought hard. “No. Why?”
A moment passed before he answered, in a voice that was colder than she liked. “I had thought that, being a member of that class, you might.” He shrugged and returned to his books.
His apparent lack of emotions to the caged people below made her want to stomp her feet. She knew the hold would quickly be hot and stuffy by her own experience. That and the fact that he was ignoring her, concentrating on the books. What was in them that made him bypass everything else, like the treasures below and their captives. She wanted to scream but instead, she threw out, “And those sailors? Or those left?”
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 16
