by Tina Donahue
Heath’s pulse pumped wildly. They’d nearly reached the beach and he’d yet to formulate a coherent plan.
An islander stood on the point, a glass to his eye, hand on the pistol stuck in his waistband.
Canela jabbed her weapon into Heath’s lower back. “Lift your arm in greeting. Smile.”
He did both though his grin felt more like a grimace.
The islander waved in return. He pivoted and ran into the forest.
Heath’s heart paused then raced.
If the islander told the others Heath had returned, Aimee and Netta might come down and risk a bullet striking them.
Canela dug her pistol into his back. “Where is he going?”
“I don’t—”
He returned and hurried down the path to the beach, his glass gone.
The longboat hit sand, the others not far behind.
Heath piled out with everyone else.
Xavierre smiled widely. “Bonjour. Avez-vous en un—” He stared at Canela.
She lifted her pistol.
Heath rammed into her.
She staggered into Goodwin, both of them knocked to the beach. Heath grabbed their guns and shot the pirates guarding Rollan, Etienne, and Michel. “Courir!” Run!
Michel led them up the newest path. Xavierre followed.
The other longboats arrived.
Heath dove to the sand and grabbed the slain pirates’ pistols. His aim was wild and missed his targets. He hurled rocks, the only weapon he had.
His crew fought the men.
Guns fired.
A pirate fell overboard. Several bolted across the beach to the brush and another path that would eventually take them to the courtyard. Women. Children.
Netta. Aimee.
Heath turned too fast and lost his balance.
Canela, Vincent, and Goodwin were gone.
Heath tore up the path. Canela and the others weren’t in the woods or ahead at the wall. He ran past the opening. Women and children stared. Heath shouted in French. “Pirates, Yellow Scarf, and Canela are here. Get Tristan and the men.”
Follie raced from the courtyard toward the stables.
Heath ran inside the mansion, Canela and Vincent’s target with Goodwin possibly following.
It was too quiet. He crept quietly down the hall.
All the doors remained closed except the last that stood slightly ajar.
Heath hurried to it.
Diana backed toward a bed, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “You vile pig.”
Vincent chuckled. “Hello to you too. Looks like you’re glad to see me. For once, you’re going in the right direction.” He lifted a pistol. “Strip then lie down and spread your lovely legs for me.”
“Never.” She edged back and bumped into the mattress.
“What say I threaten to kill your brat? Think that will change your—”
Heath kicked the door in. It crashed against the wall.
Diana fell on the bed.
Vincent whirled and lifted his pistol before Heath could attack. “Guess I’ll have to shoot you first then take my pleasure with her.”
“Only in your hellish dreams.” Diana pulled a firearm from beneath the pillow and fired.
Blood blossomed on Vincent’s chest. He clutched it and dropped to the floor.
A wail sounded in the next room.
“Oh my God. Merry.” Diana pushed past Heath.
In the bedchamber, Aimee knelt next to Netta, food spilled on the floor.
Netta clutched her head. Blood trickled down her cheek.
Heath crouched next to her. “Are you all right?”
Diana screamed. “Where is my daughter?” She knocked the empty crib over.
Netta sobbed. “Canela hit me with a pistol. I fell. Before I could get up, she took Merry and went out the window.”
Heath left the same way and ran in one direction then another and another. She’d disappeared.
He returned to Netta and Aimee’s room.
Tristan ran inside.
Diana grabbed him. “Merry’s gone. Canela took her.”
“I’ll find her.”
“Canela’s not outside.” Heath caught his breath. “I checked.”
“Then she must have climbed in another window and is back in here.”
They searched the mansion. Nothing. Islanders checked their homes. Not there. The longboats were still on the beach, Adamo and the men guarding them so the escaped pirates couldn’t return to the ship.
Canela hadn’t tried.
* * * *
Heath entered the forest, Tristan, James, and Royce on his left. Adamo and Peter on his right.
None spoke. They treaded carefully around twigs and branches, fearful of making any noise that would mask Merry’s cries or alert Canela to their approach.
Heath longed to kill her for the ruin she’d caused.
That privilege belonged to Tristan. He’d aged years in the last minutes. Nothing he said or promised consoled Diana.
Tristan tapped Heath’s arm and pointed to a side path not often used. He gestured the others in the opposite direction and took this one.
Heath followed.
Sun winked through leaves. Animals and the breeze rustled them. Waves splashed.
Merry didn’t cry.
Heath’s belly clenched. She had to be alive. If anything had happened to her, he wouldn’t forgive himself. He couldn’t live knowing he’d brought her killer there.
Tristan slowed and pointed.
White flashed within the trees close to a cliff. The one Heath had nearly run off the day Tristan warned him against wanting any woman on the isle.
Heath would have given his remaining life to go back in time and begin anew. Fix things. Avoid this.
Canela stood at the edge, her back to them. Wind tugged her hair, shirt, and breeches.
Merry wasn’t on the ground. There were no infant cries.
Heath pushed forward.
Tristan caught his arm and put his mouth to Heath’s ear. “Go to the right. I’ll take the left. We’ll circle around her and hide within the trees. Once we’re in position, I’ll approach her carefully. With her distracted, make your move. Grab her around her waist. I’ll get Merry.”
“You see her?”
“In Canela’s arms. They’re close to her body, her shoulders strained.”
As they’d be when she held something in front. “I won’t fail you.”
Tristan nodded. They separated, circled quietly through dense foliage, and stopped.
Heath could scarcely breathe. Canela held Merry oddly, around her neck in back and on her bottom.
The child blinked.
Relief poured through him. She was alive. For now. Jagged rocks and the roiling sea waited below.
Tristan left the trees.
Canela stiffened. She stepped to the edge and turned to him. “Stay where you are or watch me throw your daughter over the side.”
Tristan halted and held up his hands. “Tell me what you want. Whatever it is, it’s yours. The stone house? The gold? Jewels? You can have it all. Just give me Merry.”
“No.” She edged back.
Heath inched forward.
“Please.” Tristan’s voice cracked. Tears filled his eyes. “I’ll give you everything here.”
“Everything?” She tossed her hair as a woman would when seducing a man, as if she hadn’t just threatened to murder Merry. “I want more.”
“What?”
Heath advanced another step.
Tristan pleaded. “Tell me.”
“To rule here with you. To have Diana dead. Her body left for the birds to feast on.”
Tristan’s color rose. Rage and fear flared in his eyes.
A few fe
et separated Heath from her.
Canela laughed. “I expect you to kill her for me. Only you, no one else. I want you to bring her here and slice her open from her womb to her throat. Do so or Merry dies.” She held her over the cliff.
“No. Don’t.” Tristan gestured imploringly.
“I warn you, stay where you are.” Canela edged back. Pebbles fell beneath her foot to the crashing waves. Another step and she’d lose her balance.
Panicked, Heath rushed forward, swung his arm around Canela’s waist, and pulled them to the ground.
Before they hit, Tristan snatched Merry. She wailed.
Canela punched, bit, and clawed Heath like one gone mad.
“Damn you.” He struggled to control her. “Stop.”
She wouldn’t.
He let go.
She rolled over the side.
Heath scrambled forward and grabbed her ankle.
She waved her arms frantically. “Help me!”
“Stop thrashing.” She kicked her free leg. Her ankle slipped farther from his grip. “Damnation, keep still.”
“Help!”
Tristan put Merry to the side and grasped Canela’s calf. “Don’t move. If you fight us we can’t pull you up.”
“You want me dead. You always wanted me gone.” She bared her teeth and kicked his hand.
“Have you lost your bloody mind? I’m trying to help.”
“I hate you. I—”
She slipped from their hold and plummeted, arms and legs flung out, flailing wildly. Her scream pierced the air then stopped. She’d smacked the rocks below. Blood pooled beneath her and stained the surf.
James, Peter, and Royce rushed through the trees.
“We heard screams.” James looked at Merry. “What happened?”
Royce peered over the side. “Canela’s dead.”
Tristan cradled Merry to his chest. “Vincent’s old crew is still out there. We have to find every bloody one.”
Peter stroked Merry’s cheek. “When we do?”
“We kill them.”
Chapter 17
Heath returned to the mansion for weapons.
Tristan grabbed his arm. “Stay here. You’ve done enough.”
“Indeed, I have.” He pulled away and put on a brace of pistols. “I brought the problem to this shore.”
“You invited Canela and Vincent to ambush you and take over the sloop?”
“I failed in the one matter you trusted me with.” Heath shoved two additional pistols in his waistband. “I won’t rest until everyone’s safe.”
“You can see to that by staying in the mansion and helping me and the other men protect the women and children should the pirates find their way here.”
“They won’t, as I intend to cut them down before they get that far.”
“You can’t promise or predict that.”
It was the only solution Heath had. If not for him, no one would have had to fight for their lives again. The pirates’ fates belonged to him. “Promise to watch over Netta and Aimee.”
Tristan stood in his way. “No. I’ll not have their pain on my head. So you best take care out there and return unscathed. You’ve proven your worth repeatedly. If you can’t see that, you’re a bloody fool.”
“I like you too.”
They laughed softly to avoid disturbing Merry. She sucked Tristan’s shoulder. “I must go to Diana then take my station here with the others. Don’t do anything foolish. Your life matters as much as anyone else’s.”
That wouldn’t be true until the last pirate died and the other men returned unharmed.
By Heath’s count, nine fugitives remained.
James insisted Peter accompany him. “No arguments or heroics. If anything happens to you, Diana will shoot me.”
Heath followed them outside. “She did a fine job with Vincent. Is it her habit to keep pistols beneath pillows?”
“Only since the last time Vincent attacked in the bedchamber.” Peter walked backward as he talked. “Perhaps she and Tristan should move to another room.”
Heath exchanged a glance with Royce. “Or we eliminate the problem for good.”
Armed islanders joined them in the courtyard, empty now. Women and children sheltered inside the mansion. More mothers and their offspring arrived from the surrounding areas and joined the others.
With everyone’s section agreed upon, the men fanned out.
It wasn’t like Heath to hunt humans as he would animals. Some pirates might be unarmed. Most weakened by ill treatment. All would prove desperate to save their own lives. His would mean nothing to them.
If Canela had succeeded, they would have done unthinkable things to the women and children. Aimee and Netta. Given Netta’s disfigurement, she wouldn’t have brought in enough gold from a slaver. They would have simply raped and killed her.
He stalked his prey through the heavy forest. Every rustle and snap heightened his caution. He concentrated on beige and brown colors that matched the pirates’ breeches and sun-darkened flesh. Rays broke through intermittently, showing how much time had passed.
Despite the long search, he felt no thirst, hunger, fatigue.
A shot rang out to the west, followed quickly by another.
With any luck, one pirate was down. Eight to go.
They had to eliminate the last before dusk. The slender moon would prove useless tonight. In the dark, a desperate man might work his way to the mansion, hoping for a chance to crawl through a window. Armed with a pistol, branch, or rock, the pirate could kill anyone in his path.
Michel, who stood guard. Or Aimee, Netta, and Ourson inside.
If a pirate dared harmed them or anyone else here, Heath would tear the bastard apart.
A shot cracked from the east. Another from the north.
Additional ones followed, though not enough. More vermin remained.
Sun dipped below the trees. Animals grew restless and noisy. The sounds competed with those a man might make. Heath sniffed the air, hoping to catch a scent that told him a human hid nearby.
Nothing.
He stepped around a fallen tree and worked his way toward the point, the darkest spot. Trees blocked the remaining rays. A good place to find countless shadows for shelter. Close enough to the longboats to chance escape.
Islanders guarded the boats. However, the prisoners wouldn’t know that until they reached them.
A new shot rang in the distance. Heath couldn’t detect the direction.
Twigs snapped.
He halted and held his breath. The noise came from the left. Couldn’t be on the right. Nothing was there except the path leading to the beach.
Leaves scattered, with no wind to drive them.
Breathing sounded from behind.
He turned, crouched, and aimed.
Goodwin held a rock above his head, prepared to hurl.
Heath fired.
* * * *
Islanders poured from the mansion and streamed toward their homes.
Heath found Tristan and Diana at the dining table, arms around each other, Merry asleep between them.
Peter strolled inside. “James is off with Gavra. Royce with Simone. As Laure awaits me in our chamber, I must say good night.”
Heath couldn’t wait to see Netta and Aimee, but he had to know the truth first. “Any injuries?”
Peter grinned. “Only the pirates. We got every one. It’s finished.” He strode from the room.
“It’s not entirely done.” Heath spoke to Tristan. “In the turmoil, I forgot. Julian died on Falcon.”
“Michel told us. He and Esme are consoling Julian’s brother.”
“There are also children on board the Lady Lark.”
Diana kissed Merry’s ear. “Adamo brought them inside earlier. Netta and Aimee
agreed to care for them. They’ve been fed, washed, and are sleeping in the twins’ room. Canela murdered every islander on Faucon?”
“The priest too. Poisoned them with a sleeping potion. Aimee and Netta weren’t simply helping with Merry today? They live here now?”
“Only until you returned.” Tristan pointed. “You asked us to see to their welfare. We did. How did you repay us for that kindness? You took off after the pirates here and were the last one to return. Netta and Aimee have been asking endlessly about you. Whether you’re hurt. What you’re doing. We told them you’d been helping the other men, assured them you’d come to no harm, and left it at that. You’re bloody lucky you came back in one piece. I would have had your head if you hadn’t. Shouldn’t you be racing to their side?”
Heath laughed. “I will, but I must tell you this first.” His good humor faded. “There are still Englishmen on Faucon. Pirates and those from Bishop’s crew who refused to give you their loyalty. They’re shackled and held in a pen. Canela left them like that. I feared arguing with her. They can’t possibly survive.”
Tristan frowned. “I hope you’re not suggesting we go back and rescue them.”
“Please, no.” Diana looked from Tristan to Heath and back. “No one on this isle should do that.” She lowered her face. “I realize this isn’t the Christian thing to do but we can’t expose anyone here to harm. The islanders have already been through too much. If we brought those men back, we’d never be able to trust them unless we imprisoned each for life. This isle would become no different from England. Soon, we’d be hanging people. Tristan, you promised we’d never do that here.”
“We shan’t. I gave Bishop’s crew a chance to redeem themselves. They didn’t take it. They chose their fate.” He spoke to Heath. “Yours awaits you with Aimee and Netta. Why are you still here?”
“I won’t be any longer.” Heath rushed to the room.
The door was open. Children slept on the bed and mattresses spread across the floor. Many held hands or nestled against each other. All orphans now thanks to Canela’s lunacy.
Aimee spotted him first and ran into his arms. Netta followed.
Heath closed the door gently and held them close. Their warmth and scents restored him as food and drink never could. He kept his voice low to avoid disturbing the little ones. “Are you all right?”
“Are you?” They’d asked as one.
