“It doesn’t prove anything,” Gabriel said. “Van Neuk is blowhard. If he said he saw a dozen ships, it was likely closer to three or four.” He looked hard at Varian. “And if we have reason to doubt him, why should we believe you?”
“Because I have nothing to gain—or lose—by lying to you.”
“Except your life, of course,” Gabriel pointed out.
Juliet waved a hand at her brother to hush him. “I am still at a loss as to why you think this would persuade us not to attack the plate fleet. If anything, your information would draw the brethren to the fleet like sharks in a feeding frenzy.”
“I am telling you, because along with the extra merchantmen, they are also adding several squads of warships to the guardia. According to our sources, they are withdrawing more than half the ships of the India Guards to supplement the normal escort fleet back across the Atlantic. That would add roughly another thirty warships to the guardia, none less than four hundred tons. They will be filled to the gunwales with cannons and soldiers, and their only intent will be to kill.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“You forget, I am not a duke by nature, only by the laws of primogeniture. I have been in the military for nine years, including three as Captain of the King’s Royal Guard. What you may not know, and what could very easily get me killed if it were to become common knowledge, is that when I inherited the title and all the trappings that went with it, I did not resign my post in the army. I may have traded the uniform and gold braid for lavender velvet and silver lace, but only because it made it that much easier to travel freely around Europe.”
“You were a spy?”
“I prefer to say that I was in Seville to study the fencing techniques of Alejandro de Caranca, one of the most renowned masters in Seville. Among his other devotees were several high ranking officials in the government, including the admiralty. They are a boastful lot when they face a supposedly foppish Englishman in the circle.”
“And that is why the king thought you were so well suited to come here? Because you had a measure of success loosening the tongues of a few duelling Spaniards?”
“Actually... I volunteered for the task. In a further search for truth, were you to press the point of a blade to my throat, I might even admit that I wanted to embark on one last adventure before my life became cluttered with rents and politics, though if you repeat that in front of Beacom, I shall deny it to my last breath.”
Juliet smiled crookedly. “It would seem you got more adventure than you bargained for.”
“More indeed,” Gabriel murmured dryly. “He can return home now and brag that he has fucked the daughter of the pirate wolf.”
Varian’s patience was already on the edge and the sneer in Gabriel’s voice gave it the final push. His fist came forward with the power and speed of an iron hammer, the punch catching Dante under the chin, cracking his head back and lifting him off his feet with the force. He followed immediately with a second blow to the midsection, then a third that landed just below the breastbone and knocked Dante back toward the edge of the pool. The younger man staggered upright and his hand went immediately to his sword. The sound of steel sliding out of the sheath sent Varian stepping back, but only to lean over and snatch Juliet’s blade off the moss.
“You don’t want to do this,” he warned.
“You don’t know what I want to do,” Gabriel replied, wiping a smear of blood off his lip.
The sound of the two blades slashing together shivered off the damp walls and sent Juliet leaping prudently to one side. She knew her brother’s skill, suspected the duke’s, and although she kept a hand close to the hilt of her dagger, she backed away and watched the two circle each other like cocks in a ring.
Gabriel moved cautiously away from the soft edge of the pool, his sword arm extended full and unwavering. Varian had a slight advantage in height and build, but Gabriel was solid muscle and sinew beneath the elegant clothing, and his skill far exceeded that of his burly brother. There was genuine pleasure in his smile, as he brought the fight to Varian St. Clare in several blindingly swift parries, his blade cutting through the air in a series of silver flashes.
The stone walls rang with each echo as the swords crossed, touched, slid, and slivered together. The two men clashed without a break in stride or rhythm, each forward step brusque and efficient, each paced retreat calculated to draw the opponent here or there by intent. The ground was soft in places, the moss slippery underfoot, and once, when a lunge was overextended, the sword bit into rock and sprayed chipped fragments onto the ground.
They came together, swords high and crossed, both men grimacing with the exertion and the knowledge that they were more evenly matched than either had suspected. Steel slid in a shrill scraping protest, then parted when Varian caught Dante’s blade and whirled it with a stirring motion, nearly wrenching it from his grasp. Startled, Gabriel recovered quickly and spun nimbly to the left, reversing into a counterattack that sent the duke splashing into knee deep water. There was also a fresh cut on his cheek, barely more than a nick, but when his hand came away, it was slick with blood.
He stood there staring down at his fingers so long, Gabriel glanced at Juliet and grinned. He heard the hiss of steel beside his ear and realized his mistake, too late to prevent a thick lock of dark hair from being sliced away from his temple. Outraged, Gabriel vaulted into another attack to avenge the insult. It was answered by a blur of blur of slashing metal, the thrusts coming so fast and furious, he was driven well back into the darkest shadows of the cave.
Juliet tracked their movements by the sound of grunting and slashing. At one point Gabriel made a gazelle-like leap from one stalagmite to another and balanced a moment on one booted foot while he parried and thrusted and engaged Varian in a breathless exchange of ripostes before vaulting onto level ground again.
“By God, you’ve a worthy arm, man!” he cried. “I would not have guessed it of a lace-necked nobleman.”
Varian bared his teeth. “I’m glad you approve. And now will you listen to me when I say I am not here with your sister to earn the right to brag? It was never my intention to do so; it was never a thought in my mind.”
“Never? Not once?” Gabriel scoffed openly. “Your intentions were noble, virtuous, and honorable? And you were not the smallest part relieved just then when she refused to marry you?”
Varian’s guard dropped, just for an instant, but it was long enough for Gabriel to launch himself across the bank. It was his fist, not his sword, that smacked into Varian’s jaw, spinning him around, sending him out over the ledge and into the iridescent water.
Gabriel watched him sink to the bottom, then turned to Juliet with a triumphant grin—a grin that ended in a yelp as his ankles were hooked and he found himself hauled off balance and dragged backwards into the pool.
Juliet saw the horrendous splash and the huge cloud of white silt that was churned up as they touched the bottom together.
In God’s name, she thought as she moved closer to the edge, but they were still fighting. The pull and drag of the water was slowing their movements, but the blades were flashing, fists were striking at one another in a graceful underwater ballet before they both ran out of air and were forced to the surface.
The two dark heads rose in a font of bubbles and glittering droplets. Varian hung there for a few treads but Gabriel turned and swam for shallower water. He emerged, dripping and laughing, then stood doubled over at the waist while he fought to catch his breath.
Varian slogged into knee deep water behind him, the sword still clenched warily in his fist.
“A draw,” Gabriel gasped. “It must be declared a draw, sir, for I would hate to have to run you through after such a fine display.”
“Only if you will concede my motives were not what you thought.”
Gabriel prodded gingerly at his jawline, moving his chin to and fro to ensure it still functioned properly. “I will concede you have a sweet fist. I damn near bit off
my tongue. As for the other, proof of your motives is not owed to me.”
Both men glanced into the shadows where they had last seen Juliet, but she was gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Varian slapped the side of his neck, killing one of the tiny buzzards that was gnawing at his flesh. As irksome as the insects had been on the climb up to the summit, the sun was well down in the western sky and they were like cannibals now, swarming around his head and shoulders in a dark cloud.
Juliet had not waited for them and the path Gabriel took back led around the eastern slope, taking them past several batteries of black, long-snouted cannon. There were two men posted at each emplacement but that, Dante casually explained, could increase within minutes to half a hundred at the ringing of the alarm bell.
Once they were past the guns and making their way along the ledge that ran parallel to the channel, the vegetation thickened considerably. Through the palms and tangled vines of oleander Varian caught glimpses of the water, noting that they were still fairly high up the side of the sheer wall. Here, the view and the perspective were much different than from the deck of a ship passing through, for he could see where the path widened frequently into terraces where men with muskets could stand in the camouflaged gallery and shoot down on any vessel that made it past the cannon emplacements. Looking down into water that was clear as gin, he could also see where thick cables had been woven into nets and rested flat on the bottom. On a signal, they could be drawn up and fixed tight to stanchions on either side of the passage, trapping any intruders in the middle.
Varian slapped again and spared a scowl at Gabriel’s broad back. The younger Dante did not seem to be bothered by the fog of gnats; he kept to a fast pace and only slowed when he knew they were approaching a sentry post. His clothes were as wet as the dark curls of his hair, and his boots squeaked with moisture at every step. Despite the ready wit he displayed in the cave, he did not appear to have too much to say while they walked, and only spoke if asked a specific question.
“Your ship,” Varian ventured at one point. “It is ... the Tribute?”
“The Valor.”
“A regal name.”
Gabriel stopped so suddenly, Varian almost walked up his heels. “Near the end, just before we went for a soaking, you did something with your wrist. An imbrocade that followed through with a quarter twist. A pinch more pressure and you could easily have broken the tension in my wrist and sent the blade spinning out of my hand. You had the advantage, sir, but did not press it.”
Varian would have answered but for the bug that flew into his mouth the moment he opened it.
“If you thought to win me as an ally to your cause, you were mistaken. Had you followed through, disarmed me honestly, then put the blade to my throat and held it there until I conceded the point, you would have scored higher.”
“I will know better the next time,” Varian said evenly. “I merely thought to—”
“Save me the embarrassment in front of my sister? Believe me, she probably saw what you did and it saved me nothing but endless entendres from her tongue. She is a clever girl, our Jolly. And if I might offer a word of caution, should you ever find yourself locking blades with her, you had best give it your all or she’ll sliver you just for the insult.” He paused and smiled faintly. “She’s rather prickly in that respect.”
“So I have noticed.”
“Will you show it to me again? The imbrocade? It is a move I have not seen before.”
Varian inclined his head. “Certainly. Though I could not find too many faults in your attack. You had me on my guard more than I would care to admit.”
Dante grinned. “The devil you say. And were you speaking the truth? Did you honestly study under Alejandro de Caranca?”
“If you knew me better,” Varian said evenly, “you would know that my word is my bond and men have died for doubting it.”
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. “If you knew my sister better, you would know she is not easily swayed by a pretty face and a strong pair of arms. Whatever words you whispered in her ear while you had her beneath you will carry no weight if it ever came to a choice between you and the lowliest seaman on her crew. Speaking for myself, if I thought you intended to hurt the smallest hair on her head, I would slit you open stem to stern, tie you down in the sun and watch the sea birds peck away your flesh until you screamed yourself into madness. Jonas would be even more creative, I’m sure, and Father... well... suffice it to say madness and death would be a blessing. Be wise and keep that in mind the next time you open your breeches.”
Varian was accorded another flash of the handsome grin before Dante ducked back under the veil of greenery and began walking again. They went the rest of the way in silence, and by the time they arrived at the bottom of the slope, the air was purple with dusk and there were lights blazing in windows on both storeys of the sprawling white house, more twinkling below in the harbor.
~~~
Juliet had not lingered outside the cave. When she was fairly certain the two fools would not kill each other, she had left and returned down the path, too furious to trust herself not to take her sword to both men.
Some of her anger had been vented with savage glee on the palm fronds that had gotten in her way on the trek down. Some continued to burn in her cheeks when she arrived at the house and started pacing to and fro, still wishing she had a pair of heads to break between her bare hands—Gabriel’s for defending her when she needed no defending, and Varian St. Clare’s because... because he was clever and deceitful and because she should have been able to leave his bed this morning with nothing more than a stretch and a yawn of satisfaction.
He admitted he was a spy. He admitted he had come to the Indies to experience one last adventure before retiring to his castle and the virtues of wedded bliss. Was Gabriel right? Was she just part of the adventure?
Even if she was, where was the harm in confessing it? She was more than happy to admit on her part that it was lust, pure and simple. Why complicate it further by seeking hidden motives? Why offer marriage like it was some kind of panacea? And why, by the Devil’s wrath, was it perfectly fine for men to act on their feelings of lust, but when a woman ventured into those waters, she had to be redeemed instantly from the depths of the perceived sin and cloaked in respectability, regardless if she wanted to be or not? He’d looked like he had a bone stuck in his gullet when he tried to spit the words out; had she said yes, would he have spun into a swoon like his wretched little manservant?
Juliet cursed and kicked an offensive pot of flowers out of the way. Her toes took the worst of the blow and she hopped over to the veranda to sit on the edge.
She heard footsteps and looked up. They were just emerging from the path at the far end of the garden, Gabriel in front, St. Clare lagging a few steps behind. They seemed to be walking easily enough in each other’s company, with no further evidence of the fight having continued after she left. Their clothes had dried for the most part, but the wind had played havoc with Varian’s hair, leaving it wild and shaggy around his shoulders.
“You may check his shirt for extra holes if you like,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “But you will find him all of one piece. Is Father back yet, do you know?”
“I’ve not gone looking, but I heard horses arrive out front a few minutes ago.”
“Ah. In that case, I will just go along and find myself a tall glass of rum to ease the pain in my jaw. By the way, his grace has generously offered to show me that pretty little twirling fillip he did at the end.” He paused to swish an imaginary blade through the air. “And I have promised to let him feed the seabirds if he is so inclined.”
He offered a polite bow and touched a dark curl before he continued on his way, leaving Juliet frowning up at Varian.
“Feed the birds?”
“With my own entrails,” he explained succinctly, “if I unfasten my breeches again without giving it serious thought.”
Juliet sighed and shook her
head as he took a seat beside her. “There are barely ten months between us in age. I expect that makes him feel the need to play champion.”
“I thought he showed remarkable restraint. Were our positions reversed, and I found him in flagrante with my sister... ” His voice trailed off a moment. “Juliet... I meant what I said back there. My offer was genuine.”
She frowned. “And your mouth is just as stiff with terror saying it now as then. Save your chivalrous gestures, your grace, they are not needed or wanted here. I have enjoyed our trysts, truly I have, but if you keep plaguing me with offers of marriage, I will have at you myself with a blade. Speaking of which—?”
She held out her hand and Varian hesitated a moment before handing back her sword and baldric.
“You realize, of course, my dear mother—who has been trying to get me to propose to someone, anyone for the past few years—would be crushed if she knew that the first time the words actually left my mouth, they were rejected out of hand. Twice.”
“Your dear mother should have raised a more honest son.”
He sighed and took a seat beside her. “I have been more honest with you, Juliet, than with anyone else in my life thus far.”
“When were you thinking of telling me you were a spy?”
He pursed his lips. “Since the role was a small one, played many months ago, I did not think it was relevant. I am not here for any other nefarious purpose other than the one I have already stated. I am not here to write down the names of your father’s fellow privateers; we already know them. I am not here to assess your power or strength, that too is quite well documented. I grant you the exact location of this island comes as somewhat of a revelation, but since the best I can estimate is that we are somewhere within a day’s sail of the Windward Passage, your lair is perfectly safe from exposure by me.”
Pirate Wolf Trilogy Page 54
