The Road to Ruin

by Bronwyn Stuart

  “I’m rescuing you from your kidnapper.”

  “You’re kidnapping me from my kidnapper.”

  “Every man has to make a living, Little One.”

  “Would you cease with all the little one talk, please? It’s humiliating.”

  “More humiliating than being purchased by a nobleman? Or less?”

  “How did you hear about that?”

  “I hear everything, Daniella, and the stories worried even me.”

  “Did my father send you to collect me?” she asked hopefully, trying hard to stretch her body around to see his face. Perhaps they’d made amends and then gone separate ways to get her back?

  “Your father doesn’t know I have you. Not yet. I did have an interesting visit with your brother, though.”

  “Does Anthony know where I am? Is that how you found me?”

  “My crew intercepted an intriguing letter of ransom but when I presented it to your brother, he didn’t seem particularly surprised or worried, more…disappointed.”

  “You’re making a mistake getting involved in this, Darius.”

  “I can’t see how. I’m going to sell a rich man back to his family along with his servants. Sounds like a financially rewarding situation to me.”

  “He’ll kill you for this.”

  “Who? Your brother? Your father? Or perhaps your titled man?”

  “He is not my man. He kidnapped me and held me hostage and then dragged me halfway across the country. I was terrified for my life.” Embellishing the truth certainly couldn’t hurt her cause.

  “You didn’t appear terrified when my men knocked him out.”

  “I was shocked is all.”

  “Being an English lady has softened you, has it?”

  Daniella snorted. She was never at risk of turning into an English lady nor was there any danger of her softening. Darius’s men had caught James off guard when they’d knocked him unconscious. She didn’t like seeing him injured. By her hand or anyone else’s. As much as she shouldn’t have a real care to his well-being, he was inching his way beneath her devil-may-care act.

  “Tell me about the nabob.”

  Darius was not a trustworthy man. Six years earlier he’d led a mutiny on the decks of The Aurora, splitting the crew and their loyalties in half. She herself had disarmed him and sent him overboard with the other dogs. She’d heard talk of his adventures since then, mostly mischief with the occasional ransom run or looting of a navy vessel, but she’d also heard of his death at the hands of the navy.

  The years had been kind to him; indeed if anyone had softened, it was Darius. No longer did his sharp cheekbones and aristocratic features appear so harsh and angular. No longer did he resemble the son of the manor house. Fresh air and years in the sun lent him the means to look like a very healthy, very successful pirate. Hopefully the man she had once called big brother was still inside him somewhere.

  “My father has something that belongs to him. He got it into his head that he could swap me for his stolen items.”

  “And those items are?”

  “How should I know? Do you think he would trust me with that kind of information? He thinks I am lower than pond scum. He thinks all pirates are the same.”

  “He said that to you?”

  “He didn’t have to. It was there in his eyes.”

  “Should we just kill him now and be done with it? I don’t need the ransom that badly.”

  He was fishing. He goaded her to try to get a more direct reaction like when she’d screamed James’s name as he’d fallen. She shrugged as though James’s life meant absolutely nothing to her.

  The action hurt.

  “Did he give you those bruises around your throat as well?”

  “We fought.”

  “He must be some adversary if he is still standing.”

  “Last time I saw him, he wasn’t standing.”

  “Yes, well, an unconscious man is easier to transport than one able to fight back.”

  “What stake do you have in this? Do you mean to taunt my father? Kill me? I don’t understand your involvement.”

  “If I wanted you dead, Lamb, you would be. I was bored, no ships to annoy, no treasure to steal, only one kidnapped daughter to save.”

  “So you’re an angel now? Is that it?”

  Darius laughed so loudly his horse shied to the left, the reins pulling tight over her back while he got the beast under control. “I would never go that far. I always have my reasons.”

  Daniella humphed and relaxed as much as she could with her feet and hands tied. She would get no more answers from him and she wouldn’t push. Not yet. Not until she figured out what his part was.

  When the inn came into view, Daniella thought about screaming for help from the occupants, but discarded the idea. The sea was the quickest way back to her father’s hamlet.

  The riders fanned out and dismounted one by one, and finally she saw James’s prone form over the saddle of a horse being led by another pirate. Hobson and Patrick were trussed up so they couldn’t move an inch. Each had murder in his eyes.

  Daniella knew how they felt.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When James finally came to, all was silent but for the creaking of the ship and the sloshing of the waves against the hull. Even though his mind was sluggish and slow to catch up he knew they’d been taken aboard the very ship they had fought to outrun.

  It was all over. Amelia and his mother would be at the mercy of a vengeful pirate until the end of their days. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, but went over and over in his mind where he’d stepped wrong. What had been his biggest undoing? Was it Daniella? Was it his military pride misleading him into thinking he was in control? She was the single biggest distraction he’d ever encountered—had he simply not seen that she was utter destruction barrelling his way?

  The second question trying to bombard his consciousness was had she planned it? At the back his mind from the very beginning had niggled the notion that this was all one bigger trap to land him in front of Captain Germaine and answer for his actions. Daniella had said her father wasn’t a vengeful man, but then why had he taken Amelia and his mother in the first place? And perhaps she was vengeful on his behalf, or trying to earn a place back at his side.

  He guessed he would soon find out. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this other pirate had turned up that morning. Either Daniella had set him up or he was working for Captain Germaine. Either way, James knew if he didn’t do something, anything, he was a dead man.

  Opening his eyes as far as he could to the predawn glow, he took in his surroundings. Thank God the swelling to his face wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would get. Expecting to be cooling his heels in a rat-infested hull with the bilge, he was surprised to find himself in a clean, fresh stateroom, furnished with bunks, a desk and two chairs.

  His head snapped up and he tried to rise but then the room began to spin and with a groan he was forced to lie back.

  Turning his head and willing his limited vision to clear, he saw her. Curled up in the chair, her bare toes hanging from the edge and her hands cradling her cheek, Daniella slept. She looked so innocent, so young and trusting. But looks were deceiving and only a willing pawn slept this deeply once captured. “Daniella?” he whispered, wanting to be careful not to alert a guard if there was one outside the door. Not yet.

  No answer. Now that his vertigo had levelled out, he checked the other corners of the room to make sure they weren’t being watched.

  Satisfied they were alone, he called a little louder, “Daniella?”

  This time she stirred, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and mumbled something in her sleep, but didn’t wake.

  James swung his legs over the edge of the cot, biting down on his tongue when the room began to spin again. He closed his eyes and waited for it to level out. When he tried to rake his hands through his hair and rub the sleep from his face, he discovered one wrist was manacled to a length of thick chain lo
oped through the post of the bunk: he could only move a short distance in any direction.

  He decided to forget subtlety. Forget the element of surprise. Forget truces and partnerships. She’d betrayed him. He had the heavy manacle to prove it and she slept like an untroubled angel.

  Slowly and quietly, without taking his eyes from her slumbering form, James slipped one of his boots off, repositioned it in his hand and then threw it at her. Hard.

  Within a heartbeat Daniella was on her backside on the floor; she gave one breathless shriek before regaining her wits.

  “Good morning,” James drawled, his elbows on his knees as he took her in. “Sleep well?”

  Storm clouds gathered in her eyes. “I always sleep well until someone tries to kill me!”

  “I hardly think one little boot has the ability to take your life, Daniella. You’re rather dramatic this morning.”

  “You could have done the gentlemanly thing and taken the chair.”

  He raised a brow. “Forgive me. I didn’t know I had a choice, considering the fact I was not conscious.”

  She grimaced again and a look that truly resembled sadness—not guilt—swept across her gaze. But then it was gone. “That was not my fault.”

  “No?”

  “I had no idea Darius would knock you out.”

  “Next you’ll tell me you had no clue he was coming after us?”

  “I didn’t.” She got up from the floor, dusted her breeches off and turned back to face him, hands on her hips. “I’m as much a captive as you.”

  James lifted his arm. “And yet I am the one in manacles?”

  Finally real emotion showed and the sides of her mouth dropped slightly. “That wasn’t Darius. That was me. I am unarmed this time.”

  “I see.” He was outwardly contemplative for a moment as shame burned him from the inside. She thought he would hurt her again? “What will you do with me?”

  “Darius plans to sell you back to your family in London.”

  “Did you tell him my family isn’t in London?”

  “I told him nothing about Amelia or your mother.”

  James laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “What are you doing, Daniella? Turning up your acting skills so I’ll believe you’re on my side?”

  “Your side? Please tell me you don’t think I organized all of this?”

  “I don’t think you did. I know you did. Coincidences of this magnitude are not very likely.”

  She sputtered but she didn’t deny it.

  “Answer me this, Daniella. With the exception of last night—” he indicated her throat where the bruises sat “—what makes you think you are safer with Darius than with me? At least you knew my agenda was quite transparent. What about his? Is he a friend? A lover?”

  “I have been with you for days. Not once have I been out of your sight. How would I have got a message through?”

  “Perhaps at the dressmaker’s? Perhaps…” He trailed off. Surely not! “Patrick?”

  “What about Patrick?”

  “The way he turned up that night and joined our traveling party? Two nights past when the two of you met by the beach? He was sending the signal, wasn’t he?” How could he have been so blind? So stupid? How could he have let this corrupted girl ruin everything? “I bet right now he is swinging in a hammock, free as a bird.”

  “You’re talking nonsense now. Patrick isn’t one of my father’s men. He isn’t involved in any of this between you and me. He and Hobson are being held deeper in the ship but I have been assured they will come to no harm.”

  “Excuse me if I don’t believe you or him.”

  “I am a hostage here as well, damn it.”

  “Where do you know him from?”

  “Darius? Or Patrick?”

  “Darius.” He was beginning to lose his tightly held temper. Through clenched teeth he asked again, enunciating each word, “How. Do. You. Know. Darius?”

  “He used to a part of The Aurora’s crew. I have not seen him in six years. Not since he staged a mutiny and lost. I should have killed him then.”

  “We all have those moments of regret,” James said with a healthy amount of sarcasm. If he’d driven that knife into Germaine’s chest instead of his leg, things would be so different. “I would have the truth from you, Daniella. Did you know Patrick before we set off on the road?”

  “Of course not. He really did find me out walking that night.”

  “Did you or Patrick signal Darius so he could come to get you?”

  “I didn’t! You are insufferable. I wasn’t even gone long enough!”

  “I have underestimated you a couple of times now, Daniella; I won’t do it again.” Each time she wrested the upper hand from him, or he gave her an inch, he wound up with the injuries of a fool.

  “And nor should you but none of this was my doing. I was happy for you to take me to my father and then leave. Your plan was good enough and would have more than likely worked.”

  “And now our lives are in the hands of Darius the pirate.”

  “Your life is not in any danger. Neither is mine.”

  “Do you trust Darius?”

  She thought about it for a moment, her bottom lip squeezed between her teeth until she let it go with a sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I trust him about as much as I trust you.”

  James chuckled but there was no humour in it. They were in real trouble.

  *

  Daniella did not want to look at those of her actions that had led them there. Perhaps she should have put her head down in London and accepted her lot. Though of course even if she had, James might well still have taken her as a hostage, so they—Oh, never mind. She needed to keep him calm.

  “I promise you will make it home in one piece. Your purse will be a hell of a lot lighter but you will make it home.”

  “Ladies do not curse, Daniella.”

  Ah, there was the James she had been getting used to. Mr Proper. Another one of his many personas. As he shifted in the growing light, Daniella looked down and said, “James, you’re bleeding.”

  “You ought to know. You sliced me when you attempted to stage your own mutiny.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything? I could have tended this.”

  “Should I have told you when we were shouting at each other or when we were being taken captive? Perhaps when I was unconscious I might have found a way to communicate my discomfort? You could have removed my boots before attaching your chains.”

  “You are very surly this morning.”

  He sighed but didn’t smile as she’d hoped. She went to kneel in front of him and inspected the damage to his shin. It wasn’t deep but it needed cleaning. “We do seem to always hurt one another, don’t we?”

  “In all my years in the army I don’t think I shed this much blood.”

  “You are lying but thank you for trying to make me feel worse about it. I appreciate that.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, can you release me from these manacles or do I present a danger to you?”

  “I was protecting myself last night. I know now about your night-time violence but I wasn’t sure what would happen while you were so deeply unconscious. They wouldn’t let me ask Hobson.”

  “You didn’t tell Darius about it, did you?”

  “Of course not. I told him we injured one another when I tried to escape. I told him we fought.” She didn’t tell him she’d had to talk her old friend out of killing James for putting his hands on her. The purpling around her throat was so vivid now that no one was going to miss it and everyone was going to assume the worst. She couldn’t even swallow without pain reminding her of all her follies.

  He hadn’t fared any better. Around James’s eyes the skin was swollen and bruised and his nose looked a fright. Any other injuries sustained were hidden beneath the dark growth of a thickening beard. Long gone was the handsome, clean aristocrat. In his place sat the Butcher, or perhaps a professional pugilist. She only hoped her father asked some questions
before he jumped to conclusions when the time came.

  Two days.

  In two days she would face her father and possibly his wrath. That’s why she hadn’t told Darius the truth about her kidnapping. That she’d basically gone willingly with a man she didn’t know and continued in his company when her chaperone fell ill. She’d actually not hated the journey. There were times when she’d almost enjoyed herself. Not that she’d tell James, Darius or her father that.

  The slice to James’s leg wasn’t as bad as it looked and had already stopped bleeding, but his hose were beyond ruined so she gently peeled the frail fabric back and off.

  “I can do that myself,” he muttered, making no move to take over.

  “I know,” Daniella said. “But it will give me something to do.”

  She got back to her feet and banged on the door a few times. She ignored James’s raised brows and merely arched her own in reply. The door was barred from the outside but, if she knew Darius, a man would be standing by.

  Within a tap of her foot against floor, the heavy timbers flew open and a sailor peered in. “What?”

  “We need warm water and linens to bind a wound and food and drink for two.”

  “You what?” Shock met her request but she ignored that too.

  “Water, linens, food and something to drink. Hostages are allowed to be reasonably comfortable are they not?”

  “I s’pose so,” the man finally, reluctantly, agreed. But then he shut the door and locked it again without a yes or no.

  “Not a clever lot, those ones,” she murmured more to herself than to James.

  “Daniella, can you please untie me now?”

  “I don’t have the key.”

  A smooth, unmarred spot by James’s temple began to tick and she watched his face grow red. Before he could explode, she explained, “Darius took the key. I couldn’t very well ask him not to.”

  “For the love of God, woman, you make the worst captive ever! You don’t fight at all for the things you should and go meekly at the times you could be fighting. If I’m chained to this bed, then I can’t protect you. I can’t even protect myself.”