The woman wore sailor’s clothing. No petticoats, but the breeches that she’d worn under her skirts. Tall boots hugged her shapely legs up past her knees. She wore a longish coat of wool and leather with an intricate braid trim, a white tunic, and a floppy hat over her hair. A crossbow swung by her side. She charged across the deck, Alice, who was also dressed in trews, hurrying behind her with a lantern.
“Holy Lord,” Rabbie said next to him.
“Beck,” Drostan yelled, pointing at Eliza. As if he hadn’t seen her. Half his men had stopped to stare at the lass as she leaped up onto the forecastle at the bow of the ship.
“Eliza,” he called. He caught up to her and Alice where Eliza was climbing onto the rail, wrapping one of her legs in the line to steady herself. “What are ye doing?”
Alice pulled a long dagger from her belted scabbard, holding it before Beck so he couldn’t advance on Eliza.
Eliza swung around, pointing her nocked arrow directly at his chest. “Taking over your bloody ship, Macquarie, so I can save it.”
Mo chreach! He had a crew of twenty armed men, and she thought she could just take over his ship? “First of all, I rescued ye from starving on that isle.”
“And I am showing my appreciation,” she said, “by preventing your certain death. Now give me space to do it, Macquarie.” She met his gaze with a hard one of her own. In it, he saw fury and fear. What had she been through at Jandeau’s hands? “I will shoot you if I must,” she said.
“Beck,” Drostan yelled, pointing to the pirate ship surging through the water with the wind.
Jandeau’s ship was gliding close enough that he could see the bastard standing along the rail, his beard regrown from when he’d shaved it as part of his disguise two years ago. Men, young and old, stood ready along the rails, each with a blade or a gun. Two cages were suspended over them, one with a skeleton tied upright inside, bits of sinew dried to the poor bastard’s bones. The other cage held a more intact corpse, his body slumped over. The tangy whiff of death tinged the breeze as Jandeau maneuvered the Bourreau into a position of attack, aiming his cannons along his gunwale at the Calypso.
Beck leaped past Alice to stand next to Eliza. The rail pressed against his shins to keep him from falling into the narrowing space between the ships.
“You almost tipped the lantern,” Alice yelled. “Burn the whole bloody ship down.”
“Ye plan to take on the Bourreau with one crossbow?” Beck asked.
“One lit with fire,” Alice said, raising the lantern.
“It will do little damage on its own,” he said, trying to remain calm. The woman thought she could take over his ship! The ship he’d spent a full year building. The ship he loved more than everything other than his family.
“’Tis a warning shot,” Eliza said. Granite-hard determination in the set of her mouth showed no room for negotiation. “I plan to frighten him away.”
Beck stared into her intense blue-gray eyes. “First off, Jandeau is not a coward.” Especially when faced with twenty fewer guns. “Second, I want to capture him, not frighten him away.” Beck reached toward her and felt the sting of a blade along the back of his hand.
He looked down to see that she’d slid a dagger across it. Not deep, but blood swelled from it. Her warning shot to him.
Crossbow along her side, she held the bloodied dagger pointed at his throat. “We are on the leeward side,” she said, “going against the wind in an attack. Whatever that ship is out there will not get here before Jandeau’s heathens board to steal your ship, kill all the men, and take my children to sell or rape. Those swinging ropes along his side…” Beck knew they were there. “They are for sending at least half his fifty crewmen over here as soon as he’s close enough. The swine will overrun us within minutes.”
Her eyes snapped with fury. Teeth clenched, she leaned slightly closer to him. “I will not let that happen. You will have to kill me to get me down from here, because I would rather die than end up in the hands of that crew.”
He could grab her and lock her in his cabin, although he’d likely suffer more bloodletting. Dammit. She was right about Jandeau stealing the children if he won against the Calypso. As much as Beck wanted to capture the French pirate, he wouldn’t sacrifice children in the attempt.
Beck inhaled through his nose. “What is your plan?” he said and watched the slight lowering of her shoulders. Eliza turned outward.
“If you change your mind and try to pull her down,” Alice said from below, holding a six-inch dagger, “I have no problem plunging this into your ballocks.” He realized she was right at that height where he balanced on the forecastle rail.
“Understood,” he replied. He whipped out a rag tied to his belt and wrapped it around his hand, pulling the knot tight with his teeth.
“Hold this,” Eliza said, passing him her crossbow, the thick arrow tipped with pitch. What bloody else was in that trunk of hers?
As the Bourreau slid through the waves to cross their path and Jandeau ordered the sails to be dropped, Eliza cupped her hands around her mouth. “You dare show up in these waters, you frigging weak-witted cur, Jandeau,” she called across. “See that ship closing in on you? ’Tis Captain John on the Devil’s Blood.”
Jandeau smiled, tipping his head. “Every time I see you, Mademoiselle Eliza, you turn more beautiful. Quelle beauté. Has Captain John made you his whore yet?”
Jandeau knew Eliza well. Beck’s gut tightened, and he imagined the cocky French captain struggling under the heel of his boot.
“Captain John will be beyond vengeful if you mar his new ship,” she said, ignoring his taunt. “Do not dare to step one of your filthy boots on this deck.”
“And fair lady Alice I see there,” Jandeau said, casting his eyes to her. “Getting plumper by the year. With you having gained your sea stomach, my men will find un peu de paradis between your thighs.”
Alice cursed softly from her determined position on the deck.
“Hold your foking tongue,” Beck yelled across.
Jandeau’s dark-eyed gaze drifted to Beck. “A Macquarie pup?” His smile grew until his white teeth showed. “You let a woman speak for you?”
“A woman who will shoot ye right through your cold heart,” Beck said, handing her the crossbow.
Jandeau chuckled. “Ahhh, c’est l’amour. Perhaps she is your whore, Macquarie. If I wasn’t going to kill you today, I would ask you to send my regards to your sister-in-law, Lark.” He kissed the tips of his fingers.
“Ye bloody bastard,” Beck cursed low. Jandeau’s men held their swords at the ready, glaring from the facing gunwale. Some growled, some spit, others yelled lengthy profane threats. They were lined up at the ropes meant to swing across.
Without hesitation, Eliza lowered the tip of her arrow to the flame Alice held, turned, aimed in less than a second, and fired. The arrow pierced one of the thick ropes, making the man holding it drop it onto the deck, the fire licking up the thick strand. Another man threw a bucket of water on it from a rain barrel strapped to the mast.
Jandeau chuckled. “Feisty wench.” He rattled off something in French that made his men laugh, their leers raking down Eliza. A slight coloring in her cheeks told Beck that she’d understood whatever foulness the man was spouting. For a certainty, Beck knew he’d rather be a dead man than a live woman in Jandeau’s clutches.
“We will blow holes in you,” Eliza called. “And John will finish you off.” She tipped her head, shrugging. “You cannot beat John. He has already proven that, Jandeau, numerous times.” She held another flaming arrow nocked, aimed straight at him. His tunic, under his long seaman’s coat, was open halfway, showing hair on a tan chest. A long scar marred his cheek.
One of the pirate’s crew ran over to him. Whatever he said made Jandeau glance over the far rail at the ship closing in. Beck was almost certain it was Cullen Duffie. Culle
n was twice his age and had taught Beck all about sailing since Beck had decided that the Macquaries, being a clan on an island, must have a ship and the ability to sail. Rowing a boat after Jandeau when he’d abducted Lark had proven that.
Eliza shot at another rope, higher this time, so the men had to climb to put out the greedy flames. Would she warn him away or just incite him? Beck looked to his ready crew. Any pirate trying to board would have a hole in him.
Eliza nocked another flaming arrow. “We will blow some holes in you and your men, and when John arrives, he will cut your black heart from your foking chest so you can watch it thump and bleed out while you die on your burning deck.”
The lass had a way with words.
Rabbie held the end of a musket up to Beck. It was already primed, and he took it, holding it ready next to Eliza and her flaming crossbow.
“I thought Captain John was your protector, mademoiselle. Yet he leaves you out here alone with only this Highlander to protect you.”
“The lass obviously doesn’t need protection,” Beck called. “And Captain John is closing in behind ye, Jandeau. Ye are caught between us.”
Jandeau glanced over his shoulder at his crew and then back to her. “I have an offer for you, mademoiselle.”
“I am not interested in your offers,” she yelled, venom in her voice.
“A trade.” Jandeau tipped his head, his eyes narrowing as his grin grew. “For some valuable treasure.”
“I would never be interested in any treasure fouled by a hedge-pig like you.”
“Ah, but this treasure you may want with all your lovely heart, mon cheri.”
Eliza stared at the pirate captain, ignoring his bait. “Leave now as a live man or die with a flaming arrow in your heart or your head on Captain John’s pike.”
The man’s smile faded to a look of annoyance. “Tell John he would earn more gold working with me than with these Highland sots, who are barely able to catch a breeze in their pristine white sails.” His nose wrinkled like he smelled bilgewater. He turned away, issuing some orders in French that sent his men moving to raise their sails.
Daingead. Beck was actually letting Jandeau slip through his fingers. If he didn’t have Eliza and her children onboard, he would have attacked, keeping Jandeau there until Cullen could catch up to them. The Calypso could have survived it. She was strong and buoyant and ready to earn some scars.
“Farewell for now, mademoiselle,” Jandeau yelled over as the wind filled the sails on the four-masted ship. “If I had known you would grow into such a tasty morsel, I would have fought harder to keep you.” His hand went down to his cod as he leered at her. “Perhaps you will be interested in that trade I mentioned. Tell Captain John. I heard he was interested, and I will not remain in these waters for long. A week or two at most.”
Eliza held her one hand up in a gesture that Beck had never seen a lass use before. She jumped down from the rail, her boots clomping hard onto the boards. She strode back through his men as they stood dumbstruck by her courage, Alice following in her wake, her chin held high.
“Keep moving us into the wind to meet up with Cullen,” Beck yelled to Drostan, and his well-trained men began to hustle around the deck once more. “Watch the Bourreau,” he said to Rabbie as he passed him. “Alert me if he seems to have changed his mind. And mark his course.”
“Ye plan to go after him with Cullen?” Rabbie asked.
Beck exhaled, his fist clenching. “Once I get the children off the ship.”
He followed behind Eliza and Alice as they strode toward his cabin. Anders came running up to her, along with Pip holding wee Hester, who was tied to an empty barrel. Good Lord. Eliza must have told them to prepare to jump. Drowning, freezing in the North Atlantic, or being eaten by sea creatures was apparently better than being taken by Jandeau. Beck had to agree.
“Eliza, wait,” he called as she reached the door to his cabin.
She nodded to Alice and the children to enter and turned to meet his gaze. Her face was flushed, the confident fury bled away so that she looked…a bit lost. The door shut, and she leaned back against the wall next to it, waiting without a word.
He could seize her for taking over his ship, demand she answer his questions. What happened to her before? Who was Captain John Pritchert, and why was Jandeau willing to let go his prize to escape the possibility of meeting him in battle? What was in her trunk? Where had she gotten the clothes? Was she a pirate? There were so many questions. And he needed to stress that he was the only captain of the Calypso.
“Eliza,” he said, stepping closer. Her breath came fast and shallow. Hands resting on her shoulders, Beck felt tremors rolling through her, so much so that it was a wonder she was standing. All his urgent questions slid into one as he pulled her to him. “Are ye unwell?”
Chapter Four
Of course she was unwell.
Eliza’s stomach was a tangle of tight knots, like a wretched fishing net that should be abandoned. That was obviously why she couldn’t make herself pull out of the Scotsman’s arms. The warmth he gave off penetrated her open coat through her tunic. She had not felt cold or afraid while baiting and bluffing with Jandeau, not until she had walked away and the realization of the nightmare they’d narrowly escaped had overtaken her.
“Will you chain me inside your cabin now?” she asked, trying to sound angry, but her voice seemed too small.
Beck’s arms curved around her. He was a big man, taller than John and stronger if his biceps were evidence. He hadn’t made her seem weak by dragging her down from the rail or striking her for cutting him. There was no way he could have been truly worried for his life at the end of her blade.
“I do not happen to have chains on board,” he answered, while she shook against his chest.
“What type of pirate hunter are you without chains on board?” she murmured. She had not been held since she was a child. Captain John did not acknowledge weakness. Alice had been her only source of comfort, and the children clung to her until they grew too old, like Anders.
Pull away. He will try to touch me. All men are scoundrels.
But she didn’t pull away. Eliza let his arms encircle her, hold her. He did not press his cod into her or slide his hands down to her arse or try to press his lips against her mouth or neck. He just held her, and the oddest thing happened—Beck Macquarie seemed to suck the tremors out of her, as if his own body had taken her fear and dissolved it. He did not shake but stood like a sunbaked rock to which she could cling. Against him, her breathing slowed, her body stilled, her mind moved away from the cruel memories of Jandeau. She inhaled the warm spice that seemed to permeate his skin. What would it be like to have a man like him? Someone who was solid?
The thought jarred her, and she stiffened, pulling back. His arms dropped immediately. She glanced up and saw concern in the lines of his strong features, the hardness of his mouth.
“Whatever Jandeau did to ye…” he said, his voice filled with restrained anger. He paused, and she waited for the end of his question. But he did not ask. He cleared his throat as if trying to swallow down fury.
He glanced away from her and then back. “Ye were bloody splendid out there.”
Her gaze snapped up to his eyes. Splendid? “I stole control of your ship,” she said and glanced down at his hand. “And I bloodied you.”
“A scratch,” he said. “And my men know I am in charge, and that I decided to go along with your bluff. And as long as the Calypso did not burn, and ye and your family are safe, your plan proved sound.”
She tilted her head, feeling much more herself and not the trembling weakling she’d melted into for a few moments. “I could have taken over your vessel,” she said, knowing she’d never have been able to accomplish her boast if he’d decided to have his men surround her, wrestling her to the deck or pushing her overboard.
The corner of Beck
’s mouth turned upward. “With three children and a nursemaid to help ye?”
He thought she was jesting. Maybe she was, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Anders, Alice, Pip, and I could sail this carrack alone if need be, and it only takes three out of a crew of twenty to lead a successful mutiny.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “I am suddenly quite content that we are going back to Wolf Isle and not on a long journey with ye on board.” He leaned closer to her face, which made her still. His teeth were white, his look deadly serious. “Because no one will ever take my Calypso from me. I have worked too hard for her. She is as dear to me as a family member, and those who try to steal or harm her will attend an immediate meeting with God or Satan, depending on the sway of their heart.”
She blinked. Meeting with God or Satan? She would need to work that into her repertoire of curses.
“Noted, Captain Macquarie,” she said and opened the cabin door to slip away with the last word.
“Ask if there is any food onboard,” Anders called before she could shut it.
Eliza exhaled and turned back to Beck. “Could we please get some rations if there are any available?”
“I will have some sent up,” he said and glanced around her into his cabin, nodding to Alice and the children. “Good eve.” He turned and walked away, having won the last word. Damn.
Eliza closed the door and leaned against it, letting air out of her puffed-out cheeks.
“Splendid?” Alice said, her brows raised.
“You were listening at the door?” Eliza asked.
“Of course,” Pip said as she held Hester’s small hands and danced around with her. “We must always strive to know what is going on.” Her voice was deep to imitate Captain John. “Understanding is our best weapon.”
“I agree with Captain Beck,” Anders said, peeking out one of the small glass-paned windows. “You were splendid.” He looked at her. “Captain John would be proud.”
Worry tightened her face. “Where the hell is he?” she said to the room.
The Highlander's Pirate Lass (Brothers of Wolf Isle) Page 3
