Mardon (Pirate Lords Series Book 2)

by Elizabeth Rose

  Aaron rolled his eyes. “Mardon, you’re starting to sound like Tristan, the way he liked his naps.”

  “You can have the hammock tonight, Brother,” he said, opening the door and going inside.

  “Nice of you to offer me what is rightfully mine. Too bad it took the women being gone to do it. I’m going up to the lookout to keep an eye on the Poseidon.” Aaron left the room.

  Mardon kicked off his shoes and hopped up into the swinging hammock by the window that used to be his brother, Tristan’s. Laying back, he rested his arms behind his head. Why the hell did he feel so empty without Emmaline? Part of him missed her so much that he couldn’t think of anything else but her. “I’m doing the right thing,” he said, talking softly to himself. “If her husband is still alive, then she is still married. We couldn’t be together anyway. Unless I killed him. Again. And made damned sure he was dead this time. Nay, she doesn’t want me. She’s a lady. I’m a pirate.”

  The door opened and Ramble stuck his head inside. “Cap’n?” said the boy. “I thought I heard ye talkin’ to someone.” He looked around the room. “Is there someone in here with ye?

  “Do you like Emmaline, Ramble?”

  “Sister Emmaline?” he asked, looking confused. “Aye, she was nice. Why?”

  “She wasn’t a nun.”

  “Oh, good,” said the boy, wiping his brow. “The entire crew thought ye took to beddin’ nuns now. Some of the men even thought ye were goin’ mad. Well, now that she’s gone, I’m sure things will get back to normal.”

  “She was the girl in the painting.”

  “What?” His eyebrows arched. “The naked lady?” His head jerked around to see the painting but, of course, it wasn’t there. “What happened to the paintin’, Cap’n?”

  “She took it.”

  “The men won’t be happy.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have let any of the crew look at it again because if anyone did, I’d gouge out their eyes.”

  “Oh.” Ramble’s hand went to his eyes and he swallowed forcefully.

  A breeze drifted in the window causing a rope from the hammock to flap around. The ship rocked back and forth. The rope hit the iron sconce on the wall, making the sound of a whip. Mardon’s eyes closed and he pictured the welt on Emmaline’s bottom. He couldn’t help thinking of the way she’d jerked in his arms when he’d touched it. He’d witnessed so much pain in her eyes. Such horrible memories. He knew she hated the Frenchman and would never go back to him of her own accord. And she sent the priest to tell him she was in trouble. Emmaline reached out for him, but Mardon turned his back on her.

  “I can’t do it,” he said, hopping out of the hammock.

  “Cap’n?” Ramble cocked his head. “Ye can’t get back to normal?”

  “Nay. Things are going to change around here and it’s going to start right now.” He headed across the room, tearing open the door and hurrying across the main deck.

  “Cap’n, where are ye off to in such a hurry?”

  “There is something I have to do.”

  “I know. Find the treasure. We all have to do that.”

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the sterncastle. “Nay, there is something more important than the treasure,” he told the boy without turning around. Taking the steps two at a time, he made his way to the helm. “I’ll take over now, Stitch.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” said Stitch, handing over the helm.

  Mardon steered the ship off course, shouting to his crew. “We’re changing course.”

  Aaron ran up the stairs, looking very confused. “Mardon, what the hell are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m setting a new course,” he told him.

  “For where? I thought we were following the Poseidon and going after the treasure.”

  “Not anymore. I’ve got a new plan. If we hurry, we’ll be able to board their ship before they get too close to the shore.”

  “Their ship? Whose ship?” Aaron threw his palms in the air and shrugged. “What are we after? You make no sense.”

  “We’re going after Emmaline,” he told him. “We need to find that French ship, and fast.”

  “Nay!” Aaron’s face grew red in anger. He turned and smashed his hand down on the wooden rail. “I knew you were besotted with the wench. We can’t go, Mardon. I am quartermaster and I make the decisions as to which ships we raid. We’ll keep our course south and follow the Poseidon.”

  “Nay. I’m taking back my position of quartermaster, and I’m making the decision this time. We’re going after the French vessel,” said Mardon.

  “What?” asked Aaron. “You can’t do that! You already gave the position to me.”

  “Well, I just did.”

  “Fine, then!” Aaron’s face grew red. “Step aside, because I will assume the position of captain now.” He tried to push his brother away from the helm, but Mardon wouldn’t budge.

  “Stop it, little brother,” Mardon warned him.

  “I told you –” Aaron punched Mardon in the face, knocking him to the ground. “I don’t like it when you call me little brother.”

  Mardon’s hand shot up to feel his bleeding lip. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  The sound of shouts and commotion from the men grew louder as they all pushed their way up the stairs to watch Mardon and Aaron fight. Mardon jumped to his feet and pushed Aaron hard. Aaron went flying into several men who set him back on his feet.

  The brothers threw a few more punches, and when the crowd grew louder, Nairnie’s voice could be heard above them all.

  “Move the hell out of the way!” She pushed her way up the stairs, approaching Mardon and Aaron with her long cooking knife in one hand and her cast iron skillet in the other. “Stop it, ye two, or I swear I’ll use these on both of ye.” When they continued to fight, she swiped the knife at them and swung the pan, just missing them. Both Mardon and Aaron jumped out of the way.

  “Nairnie, what the hell is the matter with you? You almost hit us,” said Mardon.

  “Really, Grandmother. I can’t believe you just did that,” said Aaron. “You could have at least used your ladle instead.”

  “My ladle is bent and I’m still waitin’ for one of ye fools to fix it. I canna believe that two brothers are squabblin’ like children. What is this all about?”

  “Mardon’s changing course,” said Aaron. “We’re going after the girl now instead of chasing after the treasure.”

  That didn’t set right with the crew and they started mumbling their protests.

  “What do ye have to say about this, Mardon?” asked Nairnie.

  “I say I’m captain and quartermaster, too. Therefore, we’re going after the French ship.”

  “I thought Aaron was quartermaster,” said Nairnie.

  “Not anymore. Now, everyone get back to your posts. We’ve got a ship to catch and goods to plunder.”

  “Ye mean we’re not only goin’ after the girl, but we’ll get booty as well?” asked Goldtooth, seeming to like the idea.

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” answered Mardon. “You were all ready to raid the French ship before and I stopped you. Well, now you’ll get your chance. Just be careful not to harm Emmaline. I want her back on this ship unscathed.”

  “What about the others on that ship?” asked Coop, raring for a good fight.

  “We’ll take what we want, and only kill those who are trying to kill us,” Mardon explained. “If even one of them comes after you with a weapon . . . kill him.”

  “That’ll be all of them,” shouted one of the crew, sending them all into a happy frenzy.

  “Mayhap we should claim the ship as well,” said someone else.

  “Nay. Not this time. The Falcon is bigger and faster. We don’t need their ship, just the plunder,” said Mardon.

  “Well, why didn’t you say all this in the first place?” asked Aaron. “If you had, I wouldn’t have had to hit you at all.”

  “Mmph,” grunt
ed Mardon, steering the ship, looking out to sea.

  “Does this mean I can have the position of quartermaster back?”

  “Do you want it?”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s yours.” The men shook on it, and just as fast as the fight started, it ended between the brothers.

  “Men, prepare the grappling hooks and ropes,” called out Aaron. “We’ve got a ship to board and booty that’s waiting.” The men cheered again and started to rush around the ship doing as ordered.

  “Wait,” Mardon called out. “There is one man on that ship named Jean Philippe. He carries a whip. No one touches him, because that bastard is all mine!”

  Chapter 12

  Emmaline watched her husband kissing and pawing his mistresses on the other side of the ship, and felt as if she were going to retch. Jean Philippe was a horrible man and she didn’t want to be married to him, let alone ever see him again.

  He’d taken the rolled-up painting from her earlier and she’d seen him put it in his cabin. All that mattered to Emmaline was that no one ever looked at that naked painting of her again. She had to get it and destroy it, even if it ruined her chances of clearing her name in England and marrying in her homeland. With her husband still alive, that dream came to an end either way.

  Sneaking off to the cabin, she slipped inside, seeing the painting on the table. Now that her father was dead, there would be no one to help her clear her name. It no longer mattered if she showed proof that this painting would never surface again or not. She had no way to get the painting to King Edward. Emmaline’s life was doomed. She figured she’d try to escape Jean Philippe once they reached France. She would do anything in her power to disappear before he thought to touch her again.

  With tears in her eyes, she picked up the painting, unrolling it to take one last look at the deed that had ruined her life. Tears dripped down her cheeks. How did things ever get so out of hand?

  “No one will ever lay eyes on this again,” she vowed, walking over to a lit candle and setting it on fire. Just as she did, the door to the cabin burst open and there stood Jean Philippe.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he screamed. “Give me that!” He hurried into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

  “Nay!” she cried, holding the burning painting like a torch. “You will never show this to anyone again, and I refuse to be treated so horribly by you.” As he came toward her, he pulled his whip from his belt.

  “I guess it’s time I teach you a lesson, Wife. But first, I’ll take that painting.” His whip lashed out, hitting her on the hand.

  “Ow!” she screamed, dropping the burning painting. It fell atop a pile of papers and the whole thing shot up in flames.

  “You fool! You’re going to burn down my ship!”

  “I’m not the one who did that. It was your fault.”

  He tried to stomp out the flames but they only got higher, catching everything in the cabin on fire.

  “You’ll pay for this.” He flicked his whip at her and it caught her on the leg, ripping her clothes.

  She screamed again, running out the door with the madman chasing her. Emmaline heard the sound of the whip cracking the air right next to her head.

  “Stop her!” shouted Jean Philippe. “Stop that bitch, because I am going to kill her.”

  Several men ran toward her while her husband’s mistresses screamed.

  “Fire!” shouted someone else, and everyone ran around in a frenzy.

  Jean Philippe no longer seemed to care that his ship was on fire. The fire blazing in his eyes was hotter than the flames of hell. He came closer, clutching his whip as Emmaline found herself trapped, pushed up against the sidewall of the ship.

  “You will die now, and I will enjoy doing it,” he snarled, raising his whip.

  The sails flapped in the breeze. Emmaline realized the only place she could go to escape this maniac was up. So up to the lookout basket she would go, hoping to hide for now. She grabbed hold of the ratlines and started to climb. The sting of his whip hit her ankles, hurting so bad that she almost lost her grip.

  His hands were on the lines as he prepared to come after her, when she heard more shouts from his crew that stopped him in motion.

  “The fire is spreading fast,” someone yelled.

  “There is a pirate ship approaching,” called out the captain. “Nay, make that two.”

  “Jean Philippe,” cried one of his mistresses from below. “What should we do?”

  “Hurry to the shuttle boats and get off the ship, or the pirates will take you,” he called out. “All women off the ship. All men, prepare to defend yourselves or die.”

  Thankfully, Jean Philip stopped chasing her and started to retreat. So did Emmaline, wanting to get into a shuttle boat and off the ship. Then the man noticed.

  “Not you!” he shouted. “If you so much as step foot on deck, I will whip you until your skin peels off. Stay up there for now. I will deal with you after I stop this fire and save my ship from pirates.”

  Not wanting to be trapped atop the mast in a fire, Emmaline thought about jumping into the water. But then she looked out and saw the sails of Mardon’s ship. “Mardon,” she whispered, knowing now that he would save her. However, there were the sails of another pirate ship approaching fast as well. That made her frightened that she might be killed or captured by pirates that were not from the Falcon.

  With nowhere to hide and nowhere to go, all she could do was get out of the way and hope Mardon could save her before she died. Holding tightly to the lines, she looked upward and climbed.

  “We’re gaining on the French ship,” Mardon called out from the helm. “Men, take your positions and prepare for boarding.”

  “Mardon!” Aaron called from up in the lookout basket. “Mardon, wait.” He grabbed on to a line and swung down, landing with his bare feet on the sterncastle next to Mardon.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Stitch, come hold the ship steady as I prepare to board,”

  “Nereus’ ship is following us,” Aaron reported.

  “What?” Mardon swung around and looked behind him to see that it was true. He was so focused on getting to the French ship and saving Emmaline that he hadn’t been looking behind him.

  “They’re coming up fast on starboard,” reported Aaron. “They must have been following us, thinking we know where to find the treasure.”

  “Mayhap. But my guess is that they’re going to raid the French ship as well.”

  “Damn it,” said Aaron. “I’ll go report to the crew.”

  He rushed away as Stitch came up the stairs, followed by Nairnie.

  “Cap’n, I spotted the Poseidon on our tail,” said Stitch, taking the helm.

  “Aye, I know.”

  “Nereus is followin’ us?” Nairnie craned her neck to see. “Do ye think he’s plannin’ on boardin’ the Falcon?” she asked.

  “I don’t think he’s that stupid,” spat Mardon, grabbing a skein of rope and tying it on his weapon belt. “But just in case, I’m going to leave half our men here to protect the Falcon. The other half will come with me.”

  “Och, the crew isna goin’ to like that,” whined Nairnie. “They’re excited about the booty.”

  “Well, they might change their minds when they see that.” He nodded with his head to the French ship. Smoke billowed up around it, and Mardon could see that the stern was engulfed in flames.

  “Their ship’s on fire,” said Stitch. “I don’t think it’s safe to get close enough to board.”

  “We have no choice,” said Mardon. “Emmaline’s on there and I’m not going to let her die. Take us in, but stay near the bow of their ship. This is going to be a fast trip. I’ll get her and go. If it looks like the Falcon is in any danger of catching on fire . . . then leave without us.”

  “Leave ye on a burnin’ ship?” cried Nairnie. “Mardon, nay. Ye dinna ken what ye’re sayin’. Mayhap it’s best just to turn the ship around right now and no’ to go there at a
ll.”

  “I’m going to the ship, and no one can stop me,” growled Mardon. “I’m going to save Emmaline if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  Chapter 13

  Emmaline’s entire body shook as she landed in the lookout basket and looked over the side. The ship was on fire, and two pirate ships were moving in closer. Most of the French ship had given up trying to put out the flames. They all ran to the shuttle boats and were lowering them into the water.

  “My God,” she whispered, realizing this was all her fault. If she had never tried burning the painting, the ship would still be secure. Now, Mardon and his men were headed here, and they might die because of her.

  She coughed as the smoke rose, and realized she was going to die if she stayed here much longer. If the main sail caught fire, she would be trapped and be atop a lit torch with no way down but to jump. She had to climb back down before it was too late.

  As she put one foot over the side of the basket, the ship listed and she slipped. She screamed as she began to fall, her arms flailing in all directions, trying to grab on to whatever she could. Her body jerked backward with a hard yank and she dangled by one foot from the top of the mast.

  Emmaline frantically tried to free herself, but between the smoke and the rocking of the ship, she felt herself losing consciousness fast. The last thing she remembered before she passed out was seeing Mardon jumping from the bowsprit of the Falcon, and landing on the bow of the burning ship.

  Mardon landed with a thump on the bow of the French Ship, De la Croix that Jean Philippe had selfishly named after himself. Aaron landed on board next, followed by Goldtooth, Coop, and Ramble. Stitch was holding the ship steady, but had orders to leave if the fire came too close.

  “Get the lass,” shouted Nairnie from the Falcon, waving her hands over her head to gain their attention. “The lass.” She pointed up at the sails.

  “Why the hell is she telling me that?” grumbled Mardon. What in heaven’s name did the old woman think he was trying to do? “Men, this is going to be a fast trip. Stay away from the stern where the fire is the worse. Pillage what you can, and get back to the Falcon in five minutes. If you’re not back in time, we’ll leave without you.”