“We can’t let them get their hands on the woman, Captain.”
Thorn looked long and hard at his first mate. “How do the other men feel about this?”
“They think it’s a matter of pride, Captain. We didn’t run from them before, and we won’t run now. They hope the Turks will give us another chance to fight.”
Thorn chuckled. “What kind of bloodthirsty crew have I here?”
“The best damned crew that ever sailed, Captain,” Cappy announced with pride.
“Aye, Cappy, that they are.” Thorn glanced at the sky and saw the high, fleecy clouds. “Go below and get some sleep, Cappy. I’ll take the first watch. I don’t anticipate any trouble tonight.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The view of the Canary Islands was shrouded by the morning mist that had closed in around the Victorious just before sunrise.
But by noon, a strong trade wind had blown the mist away and the tall mountainous peaks and volcanic cliffs of the island of La Palma appeared to rise up from the ocean floor like dark phantoms.
A fresh breeze touched Thorn’s cheek as he brought the Victorious windward. It was a bright afternoon without a cloud in the sky as Thorn rounded a wide cove and the village of Santa Cruz de la Palma came into view.
Thorn called his crew together and informed them that they would be on the island for a week since the ship needed several repairs. Here they would also unload crates of dates, almonds, and olives, then take on a cargo of bananas, oranges, and coffee to transport to America.
Thorn skillfully manuevered the Victorious with the tide and anchored her in four fathoms of water so his crew could easily perform the needed repairs.
His eyes ran up the tall mast, where he observed that new canvas would have to be stretched; that would keep the sailmaster occupied for several days. One of the masts had splintered, and the railing and part of the deck on the lee side needed to be replaced.
The clinking of the anchor sliding into place blended with the cry of noisy sea gulls that hovered above the ship. Thorn tied off the wheel, and the Victorious danced on the surface like a cork bobbing in water.
Thorn glanced down at the main deck to see Achmed lumbering up the steps toward him. In a strange way, Thorn had begun to admire the big eunuch. He had certainly never seen anyone with the black man’s capacity for devotion to such an unworthy individual as the Grand Vizier’s woman. Thorn could only imagine what hell Achmed must live through, trying to cater to the demands and whims of that spoiled female he served.
“Captain Stoddard,” Achmed said, smiling, “will it be possible for my mistress and myself to go ashore today? I believe it would be good for her.”
Thorn sighed. The woman’s demands had already started.
Against his will, Thorn was beginning to be intrigued by the mystery that clung to the woman. He resented the fact that she was often on his mind.
Thorn quickly nodded in agreement. Perhaps the woman could use a respite from her cramped quarters, he thought, and, besides, it would be good to be rid of her for a while.
“The Victorious will be under repair for several days. Perhaps the noise will disturb your mistress, and she might find it more pleasant staying in the village. I can recommend the Casa del Oro, an inn where I have stayed on occasion.”
“I am certain my mistress will agree to this. She will not want to be a burden to you and your crew while the vessel is being repaired.”
Thorn gave the man a doubtful glance. “Tell your mistress to make ready at once. I will be going ashore in exactly twenty minutes, and I do not intend to wait for her.”
“She will be ready, Captain Stoddard, you have my word on this.”
“Very well, but I want it understood that I will not be responsible for the woman’s safety while she is off my ship. And when I am ready to sail, she had better be back on board, for I will not be delayed because of her.”
“You will not have to worry about her, Captain. She will do what is expected of her.”
Thorn’s deep-blue eyes clouded with skepticism. “Just keep her close to you, and see that she doesn’t come to any harm. I have enough to worry about without indulging your temperamental mistress.”
“You will have no trouble from her, Captain.” Achmed knew that Thorn Stoddard had completely misjudged Brittany, but there was no reason to enlighten him. Perhaps it would be best that no one knew how young and unspoiled Brittany was—especially not the handsome young captain.
Brittany was seated in the longboat, her veil in place, making her anonymous, or so she thought until she caught the four men who were rowing the longboat casting inquisitive glances her way. They apparently thought her something of an oddity. However, their captain, who was seated directly across from her, did not even look in her direction.
She studied Thorn Stoddard’s profile. She liked the clean sweep of his brow, and the manner in which his dark hair fell across his forehead. She was not certain if she approved of the arrogant tilt of his chin that suggested impatience and a ready temper—but of course she already knew that about him. He was insufferable, yet intriguing.
Suddenly Thorn raised his eyes to her, and her heart skipped a beat. Brittany found it was hard to breathe, for it felt as if his piercing gaze could see past the thick gauze of her veil—but she knew that was impossible.
When she could bear his scrutiny no longer, she turned away and refused to look in the captain’s direction, although she could still feel his glance on her.
Thorn watched the delicate hand that pulled the veil into place, and cursed his growing fascination with this woman. She was mysterious, and he found himself wanting to rip the veil from her head and look upon the face that made the sultan want to possess her and had driven the Grand Vizier to desperate means to keep her from him.
The rising tide propelled the longboat forward on swift frothy waves, and with the help of the four able seamen who plied the oars, the boat soon reached shore. One of the men leaped onto the pier and secured the boat.
When Achmed swung Brittany onto the pier, her legs felt as if they had no substance, and he laughed as he aided her up the steep slope. As they moved away, she could hear Captain Stoddard issuing orders to his men, and she urged Achmed to hurry to the carriages that were waiting to transport passengers into Santa Cruz de la Palma.
As Achmed assisted Brittany into the carriage, many of the local inhabitants cast inquisitive glances their way. Apparently they were curious about a woman who covered her face, and was accompanied by a big colorfully dressed eunuch.
Brittany longed to rip the veil away so she could feel the sun on her face. Glancing back over her shoulder, she was glad to see that Captain Stoddard and his men had moved in the direction of the warehouses on the other side of the pier. Although she told herself she was glad to be away from the captain’s searing glance, her eyes followed his movements until he was out of her view.
As the horse-drawn carriage moved forward with a sudden lurch, Brittany soon became interested in her surroundings. This was a land of vibrant colors. The carriage moved past orange groves, where the trees were so ripened with fruit that the branches dipped toward the ground. Banana trees displayed their golden bounty beneath a clear blue sky. The houses were whitewashed, with red tiled roofs. Beautiful multicolored birds sang from treetops, and a gentle breeze brought with it the smell of the sea. Barefoot children played in the narrow streets with joyous laughter. The people were very dark-skinned, and Brittany felt certain that with her darkened skin and hair, she could easily be mistaken for one of them.
Achmed appeared to be taking in the scene with equal interest.
“I have never seen anything so lovely, Achmed,” Brittany told him. “Surely this is a paradise.”
“You say that only because you have seen so little of the world.” He drew himself up with proud dignity. “I once traveled to Paris, France, with Lord Simijin, and that city was indeed wondrous to behold. But this is indeed a lovely village, little mistr
ess. It might be pleasant to live here.”
“One would have to be a Spanish citizen, Achmed, for the Canary Islands belong to Spain.”
“Then it might not be so pleasant after all.” He smiled broadly. “Much better to go to America, where you may have a grandmother to welcome you with love.”
“A woman I do not know. I believe she was never kind to my mother, although my mother has not said so. It is just a feeling I have. Mama once told me she wrote my grandmother and her father in England about my birth, and yet, she heard from neither of them.”
Achmed looked at her gravely. “If your grandmother is not kind to you, do not fear, for I shall take you somewhere else.”
Her eyes clouded with distress. “I wonder what America will be like. I know that it was once at war with England but that the two countries are at peace now.”
“I do not know about such things, although I have heard it said that there is much to admire in America.”
“I hope so, but it sounds like the end of the earth to me, Achmed.”
“It will not be so bad, little mistress, and I will be with you.”
She laid her hand on his. “That is the only thing that makes this all bearable, my dear friend.”
The Turkish man-of-war sailed into a secluded cove. With a satisfied smile, Admiral Kainardji adjusted his spyglass. Yes, there was the Victorious. Her crew was unsuspecting that they were being watched.
He slammed his spyglass down, and laughter filled the air. To capture Thorn Stoddard might prove to be easier than he had hoped. He could not attack the Victorious outright, for they were both in Spanish waters. No, he would wait and find the captain alone at sea.
First, he had to locate the daughter of the English Rose. It was unlikely she was on board the ship since it was under repair. Most probably she had moved into the village—or so he hoped. It would be easy enough to find out.
Kainardji aimed his spyglass at the shore and saw a carriage making its way to the village. Excitement throbbed through his body. Yes, there could be no mistaking the woman draped in veils and accompanied by the eunuch. It must be the woman he had been sent to find.
Satisfaction gleamed in his dark eyes when he saw she was not guarded. He would soon have her in his custody. Captain Stoddard might be harder to capture, but Kainardji would have the advantage of surprise on his side.
The night was dark. Brittany stood at the window of her small bedroom, looking down on the square below, hoping to catch a glimpse of Achmed. He had insisted that she remain in the room while he purchased food for them both.
The air was suddenly filled with music, and the small square across the way was alive with flickering candles. People were beginning to gather, so Brittany leaned out, trying to see what was happening.
Brittany was not aware that dark, hostile eyes watched her from the shadows below. Admiral Kainardji slipped behind a flowering bush and motioned for his four companions to join him there.
“See the woman there at the window? You must bring her to me at once, but do not harm her in any way or the sultan will see you punished. Go now to capture her before her eunuch returns!”
Admiral Kainardji’s men moved swiftly toward the Casa del Oro. Unnoticed, they slipped inside the inn and silently climbed the stairs.
Brittany tapped her foot, keeping time with the music. It appeared the island people were fond of music, for a crowd had gathered in the square to dance and join in the merrymaking.
Unconsciously, she swung her hips in rhythm with the music, for she had been taught by Juanita to dance to Spanish folk songs.
Because of the heat, Brittany had removed her veil and was now dressed in her own pale-pink muslin gown. She hummed to herself and tapped her heels, then whirled around the room with wild abandonment, the tempo filling her senses and her feet tapping out the rhythm.
When the knock fell on her door, Brittany laughingly opened it, expecting to see Achmed standing there. “I have just been dancing, Ac—” She broke off in horror when she saw the four Turkish sailors, and knew they had been sent by the sultan.
Rough hands pulled her into the hallway, and she would have screamed but for the hand that clamped painfully over her mouth.
Brittany kicked and fought against her assailants, but she soon realized she could not win against them. Twisting and turning, a silent whimper caught in her throat, and she felt tears sting her eyes.
“Be still,” a voice warned as one of the men spoke to her in the Turkish language. “You will not be harmed if you come with us without a struggle.”
Dear God, she thought frantically, she would be taken to Sultan Selim. What would become of her then? She had not thought that the sultan would have her followed this far. What was she to do?
She thought of her mother and wondered what she would do if she found herself in these circumstances. Oh, Mama, she cried silently. I am so frightened. I wish you were here to tell me what to do.
The sound of music and dancing in the square drew everyone out of the inn to witness the spectacle. Achmed had stopped to watch for a moment. With a lightness of heart, he entered the Casa del Oro. The little mistress would like the lively music. It would cheer her, for she had known much sadness lately.
The eunuch heard the commotion at the top of the stairs, and he rushed upward, fearing the horrible truth. When he reached the landing, his heart froze with fear for his young mistress, who was struggling with three men. With anger burning in his breast, Achmed removed the knife from his belt and advanced swiftly on her abductors.
Achmed did not know that Admiral Kainardji had followed him up the stairs. He was so intent on rescuing Brittany that he was taken by surprise when Kainardji’s sharp blade slipped between his shoulders. The sudden pain made the big eunuch drop his knife, and it clattered to the floor just out of his reach.
Achmed fought on in a rage; his one thought was to save Brittany. Like a dying stag, he lashed out at everything around him. He lifted one of the men over his head, tossing him over the railing so he landed below with a thud.
Achmed charged the second man, trying to ignore the weakness that washed over him. His hands closed around the man’s neck, and he squeezed with his last bit of strength. But Admiral Kainardji struck again and again, until his knife finally broke off in the big eunuch’s back!
Fighting against the darkness that blurred his sight, Achmed fell to his knees, a sorrowful look in his eyes as he glanced at Brittany. He could not help her. With one last tremendous effort, he struggled to get to his knees but fell forward, face down, to lie in a pool of his own blood.
Brittany frantically reached out to Achmed, but she was forcibly drawn away. A heavy hand came down on her jaw, and her head seemed to be spinning around and around in a dark cloud of unconsciousness.
“Fool,” Admiral Kainardji cried. “If you have bruised the girl—” His voice trailed off in confusion. “I had not thought the English Rose’s daughter would have dark skin. No, it is not possible. I was told her hair was golden and her skin white.”
One of the men touched Brittany’s dark hair. “Perhaps we have the wrong girl?”
Kainardji’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps we have. I cannot take this girl back until I learn if she is the daughter of the English Rose.”
By now there were loud voices coming from below the stairs, so Admiral Kainardji motioned for the men to pick up the girl and follow him as he led them down the back stairway and into the night.
The admiral was troubled as he led the way to the waiting carriage. In his heart he hoped he had not made a mistake in capturing the wrong girl.
“Take her on board the ship until I can determine if she is the one we seek. Secure her below deck, and keep seven men on deck to guard her.”
“Where will you be, Admiral?” one of the men asked.
“I will be searching for the American captain. We cannot leave without him, imbecile. Captain Stoddard will regret the day he challenged me. He will not only lose his life, but his
ship will be put to the torch.”
Chapter Eleven
Thorn heard the sound of music and laughter when he approached the village square. With quick steps, he made his way toward the Casa del Oro feeling somewhat foolish about his misgivings. It was perfectly natural that a Turkish ship had been spotted this afternoon by one of his crew members, since they must frequent these waters.
Still, he could not easily dismiss the danger it might present to the woman. After all, the Turks had fought a battle for her, so perhaps they had not given up. He would just make certain that she was safe in her room before returning to the Victorious.
When he entered the inn, he found the main room empty. The serving girl told him that most of the townspeople had gone to the fiesta in the square. Perhaps the girl and the eunuch had gone there also.
Now that he was here, Thorn reproached himself for being overcautious. The Grand Vizier’s woman had caused him enough trouble already. Why could he not just put her out of his mind? He was not her protector. Thus far she had been more trouble than a dozen females, and she would apparently go on causing him woes as long as he felt responsible for her.
When Thorn moved up the stairs, he saw that several men were gathered in a circle, murmuring excitedly. Pushing his way through the crowd, he saw Achmed sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. He quickly bent over the big man. “Has anyone called a physician?” he demanded.
“Sí, señor, but the man has lost much blood, and it is doubtful that he will live.”
Thorn’s face was grim. “Did anyone see what happened here?”
“I saw it, señor,” one of the men admitted. “I am the proprietor of the Casa del Oro, and I saw this poor man fall. The unfortunate girl fought like a demon, but the Turks took her anyway.”
With a feeling of dread, Thorn grabbed the man by his shirtfront and pulled them forward. “Describe the girl to me. What did she look like?”
Enchantress Page 11
