Fire Glow

by Linda Ladd

  Trey smiled down at her, his fingertips reaching to trace the high cheekbones and fine smooth brow. Each caress was infinitely gentle as he tasted her lips, then the hollow of her shoulder. Caitlin reacted to each touch, each kiss, flaming up, settling back, hungry for him, wanting more, wanting him. When Trey spoke again, it took her a moment to absorb what he had said.

  "Promise you will never leave me again," he demanded, his mouth on her breast.

  "I promise, never again," she managed breathlessly, and Trey grinned, disappointing Caitlin as he rolled away from her and sat up.

  He walked to the table, oblivious to his nakedness, and Caitlin admired his lithe muscular body as he poured two goblets of the fine Madeira wine she had opened for them to share. He moved back and sat on the bed beside her, handing one to Caitlin.

  "Tell me about Christian. Meghan knew little ex-cept that she intends to wed him when he is set free."

  Caitlin smiled, but a haunted look came into her eyes.

  "He languishes in El Morro castle in Santiago de Cuba. Our only hope is to intercept the Bella and take Diego Enriquez as a hostage, but we have begun to fear we have missed her."

  "You have not missed her."

  Caitlin looked at him quickly. "Have you news of the Bella, then?"

  "Aye, we had word of her in the Azores. She was beleaguered by storms in the Atlantic and had to return to Spain. But those who had seen her limp home said she would sail again after repairs are made."

  Caitlin laughed with excitement. "But that is wonderful news! We can still take her!"

  Trey looked at her shining eyes and shook his head.

  "Caitlin, Caitlin, what am I going to do with you? Don't you know how dangerous this plan of yours is? The Anna is no match for an armed war galleon the size of the Bella."

  "I have no choice. It is the only way I can free my brother."

  Caitlin placed her glass on the shelf above the bed, then looked at Trey. Her lips curved in a most wicked way as she raised a slender forefinger to trace his straight bottom lip. Trey's breath caught as she moved suddenly, straddling his waist where he sat, her naked thighs close against his hips. She leaned forward, the softness of her breasts sliding like silk over his chest.

  "I thought," she murmured, her lips brushing his mouth as her fingers kneaded the hard muscles of his shoulders, "that perhaps I could persuade a certain captain of a well-armed man-of-war to aid me in my fight with the Bella."

  Trey's eyes closed as her mouth moved teasingly down his neck to his shoulder. "I cannot say for sure, my love, but I would have you try your best in such tender persuasions."

  He had groaned the words, and Caitlin smiled as his arms crossed behind her back, pulling her with him as he lay down. Together they let the magic of their lovemaking ignite into a roaring, rushing torrent of pleasure that allowed neither of them to contemplate guns or hostages or Spanish galleons, but only the white-hot fury of their passion.

  It was much later when Trey stood at the windows, watching the rain run in blurry torrents against the dark panes. He could see Caitlin's reflection in the glass as she lay sleeping in the bed. He turned and walked back to look down at her. Her long lashes formed two thick black crescents against her smooth cheeks, her chin soft and pliant in her slumber. She slept restlessly, however, tossing her head as he watched, causing her hair to slip from the pillows, rippling to the floor beside him in a waterfall of fire.

  He smiled, then knelt and gathered the flaming silk of it in both hands. He inhaled the sweet scent of flowers, and emotion curled around his heart as he realized again just how much he loved her. He had followed her halfway around the world without hesitation, and he knew he would do it again if she ever dared to leave him. She was a part of him, the most important thing in his life, and she always would be. But even though she held him with such silken chains, he did not understand her. She was beautiful but enigmatic and free, like the ocean so beloved to her. She had shown herself to be courageous and brave, yet she had the face of an angel and the body of a goddess.

  Trey sat down, concerned as she began to thrash around and moan in the grips of some terrible dream. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, but at his touch she jerked upright with a strangled scream.

  "Hush, my love, you are only dreaming," he murmured, pulling her to him, and Caitlin laid her head weakly against his broad shoulder. Trey frowned as she began to weep, harsh sobs that racked her slender body. He cradled her in his arms, tenderly smoothing her hair with his palm. He had seen her cry only once before, and he had been the cause of it. But this was pure fear that rendered her trembling and cowering against him.

  It took a long time for Caitlin to calm down, and even when her tears had dwindled into a quiet snif-fling, she still clutched him tightly.

  "What is it, my sweet? What frightened you so?"

  Caitlin did not answer, not wanting to remember the horrible images that tormented her. Trey shifted her slightly until her head lay in the crook of his elbow. He smiled, tenderly brushing tear-dampened tendrils from her cheeks. In all her life, Caitlin had never been able to share the details of her father's execution, not with anyone. The memory had even been avoided between Christian and herself, but now as Trey held her so tenderly, his eyes compassionate, his fingers gentle upon her face, she inexplicably felt the need to tell him. She began in halting, grief-stricken words that had remained locked inside her for years, buried in the darkest holes of her mind.

  "It is always the same. The day Papa died."

  Her voice caught pitifully, and Trey's arm tightened, bringing her close again. Caitlin's lips moved against his bare chest, her words nearly inaudible.

  "It happened at El Morro, that is why I have to get Christian out."

  She shivered all over, wetting dry lips as she be-gan again. "They tied our hands and put us in a donkey cart. I can remember the way the wheels creaked on the long road to the castle, and I can remember the clanking of the chains on Papa's arms and legs. People jeered at us and threw things."

  She stopped abruptly, and Trey rocked her, whispering soothing words into her hair.

  "Ssssh, love, there is no need to relive it like this."

  Caitlin barely heard him, her heart pounding, her chest heaving in shallow breaths.

  "Enriquez took us up to the highest parapet over the sea, where the wind whipped all around us, and there were drums rolling in the courtyard, and I can remember Enriquez's eyes, so dark and glittery like black glass. He stood behind me and held my face so I would have to watch. Another man held Christian."

  Caitlin began to tremble, and Trey's muscles went rigid with rage, wanting to kill the Spaniard for what he had done to her. Tears welled again, blurring Caitlin's eyes before they brimmed over her lashes and rolled down her cheeks.

  "Then Papa knelt and smiled at us." She sobbed, nausea twisting painfully in her stomach. "The executioner was huge and held a curved ax." She buried her face in Trey's shoulder, her words nearly incoherent through her tears. "They put his head on a pike, Trey. They kicked his body off the wall like the carcass of an animal. And now he has my brother, and he will do it to him, too!"

  Trey's heart wrenched with compassion, his whole face locked into grim and hard lines as he held his distraught wife. So many things were clear to him now, why Caitlin and Christian had been so obsessed in their vendetta with Spain, why Caitlin acted like a man with knives and swords. Such a brutal ordeal would twist and embitter anyone, and Pedro de En-riquez was a monster to inflict such horror on mere children. Caitlin suffered still from his cruelty, damn his soul to hell.

  "Hush, my darling," he whispered, his own voice hoarsened with anger. "I will help you get Christian. We will make our plan, and he will be all right, I swear it."

  Caitlin laid her wet cheek wearily against him, taking comfort from his strength. She closed her eyes tightly, the nightmare increasing her determination to save her brother from the fate of her father. Now that Trey was with her, she felt more secure in
her ability to take the Bella. In truth, she felt more secure in every way when she lay in her husband's powerful arms.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After a month of crisscrossing the northern reaches of the Windward Passage from Cabo Maisi to the pirate lair of Tortuga, the Bella sailed into sight without escort. According to plan, Caitlin and Trey dropped sails on their ships, letting the galleon slip by unaware and undisturbed, then loosed their top-sails and gave pursuit.

  Trey stood at the quarterdeck rail, looking across the water to where the Anna skimmed the waves like a hungry barracuda.

  She was at full sail, canvas billowing under a stiff northeasterly, and Trey had no qualms about Caitlin's ability to carry out her part in the coming altercation. In the last weeks, he had been astounded at Caitlin's grasp of tactical strategy. Before, he had never given her an opportunity to display her knowledge of navigation, but his attitude toward her had changed greatly in the past days as he watched her command alongside Roger Swain. Her men admired and respected her leadership, as did his own, and to his surprise, he no longer cared if she dressed like a man. She was his Caitlin beneath such garb, or any other. His only fear in the coming battle was for her safety, and now that the Anna swiftly approached the towering sterncastle of the Bella, he was only relieved that he had convinced Caitlin to stay aft from the boarding parties assembled on her foredecks.

  Since the night that Caitlin had wept out the story of James Alexander's death, Trey had craved the opportunity to strike against Enriquez. The Spaniard had much to answer for and he would answer now to Trey.

  Trey looked around the decks. All hands prepared for battle; below, on the gundeck, the cannon primed and loaded with heavy black balls. All decks were clear, his men ready with loaded muskets and sharpened knives and cutlasses, be they necessary. A great sense of elation filled him, the excitement of an impending fight in the air.

  Both frigate and sloop were swifter than the heavy galleon lumbering awkwardly through the swells, but even so, upon sight of her pursuers, the Bella hoisted all sail to outrun them.

  "Starboard guns for firing!" he yelled, his priority to stop any possibility of her escape. The Glory canted slightly as gunsights were set. to broadside the fleeing ship as Caitlin closed in at its stern beyond harm of the Bella's gundecks.

  "Fire!"

  His order was repeated by Richard to the gunners below, and several cannon fired at once, rocking the frigate to port. Shots whistled in flight and smoke drifted from the gunports as a fiery explosion mushroomed on the Spanish forecastle deck. But the others fell harmlessly into the sea, and Trey frowned.

  "Fire," he ordered again, and the second volley echoed out over the water, the seamen of the Glory cheering as the shots proved true, bringing down the mainmast and tangles of rigging with it.

  Return fire from the Bella fell short as Trey tacked into the wind and out of range, and he smiled with triumph. He raised his glass to scan the decks of the galleon, where men scurried about amid smoking wreckage and confusion, then swiveled his focus to the Anna, now nearly close enough to the disabled Spanish ship to discharge her boarders, armed to the teeth with cutlass and pistol. He could barely see Caitlin on the quarterdeck, but was relieved that she was being true to her word by staying aft of the fighting. He lowered his glass, intent now on keeping the Spaniard's mind on him instead of Caitlin.

  "Prepare to fire," he bellowed, and moments later, more shots bombarded the crippled galleon.

  The Anna had closed in by now, and he could see the men swinging grappling hooks to the stern of the Spanish vessel, then scrambling over the bulwarks. Once aboard, they would fight their way to the gundecks and immobilize her cannon so the Glory could come in and finish the kill.

  A distant thunder of cannon from starboard stern ended Trey's complacent satisfaction, and he ran to the railing, watching with horror as a second galleon appeared out of nowhere and let loose a second barrage upon the Anna.

  On board the Anna, Caitlin whirled as the cannon ripped through the riggings and shrouds above her with a great crack followed by a hissing sound as the shot landed in the sea around them.

  "Man the swivel guns at starboard," she cried desperately as another roar of cannon drifted across the water. A spar was snapped on the mainmast, dragging most of the sail down with it to drag in the water, and panic ensued as many of her men were trapped beneath the debris near the main hatch.

  Caitlin ran to the stern, then staggered back as the Anna was hit by a broadside; she covered her head as splinters of wood and metal rained down upon the decks. Frantically, she searched through the haze of smoke for the Glory's position, relieved to see it canting about to loose its guns on the interloper. Trey's first shot was a direct hit, bringing down the foresails and destroying the bowsprit, but Caitlin watched no longer, running to where Roger yelled orders from midships.

  "There's fire in the hold, spreading fast," he yelled at her. "Man the buckets, damn the scurvy bastards!"

  Caitlin made her way to the men, who were desperately trying to put out the flames springing up around the decks. Her eyes burned from the black smoke, her lungs aching and making her cough and choke, but she grabbed a bucket, thinking only to stop the fire before it reached their powder store on the orlop deck. If the gunpowder went, the ship and all aboard her were doomed, and Caitlin thought of nothing else as she carried pail after pail to the fires licking the wooden ship.

  No, no, the Anna cannot be lost, she thought over and over, her heart breaking as the flames in the hold roared up out of control despite their frenzied labors. She stopped, bucket in hand, her eyes filled with tears. Her face was grimy and blackened by smoke, and she stared helplessly at the tangled debris and billowing smoke half obliterating the shapes of men crying out in pain and panic. A terrible grief rose to clog her throat, and the bucket fell from her fingers as a screaming man, clothes aflame, hurled himself over the gunwales into the sea. It is no use, she thought, the Anna is lost.

  Jump, men!" she yelled to those around her. "Save yourselves!"

  The deck was slanted at a precarious angle to starboard now, and she had to pull herself uphill by the downed lines of rigging to reach the port railing, where men were jumping for their lives. For the first time she saw that the Glory had sunk the other galleon and was now nearby, her longboats already launched to pick up the survivors of the Anna. She saw Trey in the nearest one, gesturing frantically for her to jump, and she climbed atop the rail but hesitated there, looking around the sinking ship.

  Trey cursed as Caitlin continued to linger, flames everywhere around her. His eyes riveted on her, he jerked off his vest, intending to dive in if necessary and pull her off himself. He stopped as she suddenly let go of the ropes, poising on the rail for one instant before diving into the turbulent waves below.

  Trey breathed in relief, but only moments later, the Powder stores of the Anna exploded in a deafening roar. Trey ducked, covering his face with his forearm as the sea was showered with bits of burning wreckage. He thrust a flaming piece of sail from his shoulder, his eyes on the water where Caitlin had yet to surface. While he watched, she came up a good distance from the burning ship, and Trey yelled for his oarsmen to pull their way toward where her head bobbed in the rolling swells. He held tightly to the gunwales as they reached her, leaning over to grasp the back of her shirt. He pulled her bodily out of the water and against his chest, shutting his eyes as he realized how very close he had come to losing her.

  Caitlin pulled away and stood, tears streaming down her face as she watched what was left of her beloved Anna sink forever beneath the roiling waters. Trey solemnly watched the gallant ship bow to her ignominious end, aware there were no words to comfort Caitlin, not now. When the last of the bow disappeared into the sea, extinguishing the last fires, Caitlin turned her face against Trey's chest, her fin-gers clutching his shirt, sobbing silently as they were rowed to the Spanish galleon that had been captured, but for a grievous price.

  Darknes
s had descended over the debris-strewn sea when Trey sat at a trestle table in the large Great Cabin of the conquered Bella. Roger Swain and Richard Hale sat across from him, the hanging lamp over the table casting moving shadows on their faces as it swung in slow tempo with the sway of the anchored galleon.

  Trey glanced to where Caitlin sat wrapped tightly in a blanket in the corner of the bunk. Her face was hidden in deep shadow, and he frowned in worry. She had said nothing to him or to anyone else since the Anna had gone to the bottom. Even the shattering disappointment that Diego de Enriquez had not sailed aboard the Bella had failed to bring a reaction from her. According to the Spanish captain, young Enriquez had been detained in Spain when they had returned for repairs and would return to Santiago later in the year. It had been a double blow against them, for they had captured the Bella without real purpose, and had lost the Anna in vain. They had no hostage with which to bargain with Pedro de Enriquez, and Christian's fate now looked grimmer than before.

  Trey picked up a stiff roll of parchment from among the packet of official letters they had seized. He laid it on the table before him.

  "This bears the Royal seal. Can you translate it, Roger?"

  "Aye," the bearded man answered, drawing the paper across the table. He slid a fingernail beneath the wax seal and unfolded the parchment, then skimmed its contents briefly. He shook his head as he looked back at them.

  "It says Christian is to be returned to Spain for public execution, and it names Doña Marta Torrez as the emissary for the King."

  "She was taken to the Glory with the other prisoners," Richard said, and Trey leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck as he contemplated their options.

  "Perhaps Doña Marta could be held in exchange for Christian. And did you not say, Richard, that we have a Frenchman, as well?"

  "Jacques LeConte is his name. His papers identify him as the newly appointed ambassador to Havana. He was apparently en route there now."