by Tamara Gill
Please God, look past the black parts of my soul and find a speck of goodness. If not for me, for her. Even if I don’t deserve a blessing, she does.
Sarah was his salvation. If she was gone…
In the lowest deck, he lit a lantern and handed it to Brax and then did the same for himself. Crazy shadows jumped on the walls as the anemic wash of golden light illuminated the area. “Brax, search that section toward the hell. I’ll take the powder and bread storage. We’ll meet in the main hold. She has to be down here. We’ve searched everywhere else.” Unless she’d gone overboard. The knots in his stomach tightened. He refused to think of the possibility.
I cannot have lost her to such a fickle fate.
Immediately, Brax set off. The wink of his lantern disappeared down the narrow passage. Adrian conducted his search with the same methodical precision he’d done the previous decks. She’d not come this way. No clue waited for him. No scrap of fabric from her hem. No loose strands of her hair clung to the cargo. No lingering scent of lavender brightened the air. Where the hell was she? As he passed the prison cell where he’d first instructed Sarah into the ways of living aboard his ship, his veneer of control slipped. His heart squeezed. Perhaps now was the time to declare defeat, but how could he go on without knowing her fate? His stomach clenched. His shoulders drooped.
“I’m so sorry, Sarah. After all my safeguards, after all my carefully laid plans, I failed you.” The shadows ate his whisper and pressed in on him as if they wished to devour him as well. He bowed his head and rested his forehead against one of the bars. If he hadn’t insisted she stay onboard, if he hadn’t selfishly wanted her to remain…
He couldn’t bear the torment. There had to be an explanation. He stared into the shadows that clung to the corners of the cell. Had Little Jim questioned the men they suspected of wanting to call mutiny? Had Sarah somehow run afoul of those men?
Damnation, I’ve been so blind. And now his loyal crewmembers might be in danger. Caring for Sarah had relaxed his guard. He should have stayed abreast of every rumor instead of spending his free time in her arms.
“Cap’n, ye need to see this.” Brax’s intrusion into the private moment caused Adrian to flinch.
His heartbeat thundered through his veins. “Is it Sarah? Is she alive?” He didn’t allow himself the anticipation in the event Brax’s news wasn’t favorable.
“Come wit’ me. Ye’ll need yer weapon, and a good dose of Dutch courage, my friend.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes. The courage of Dutchmen was legendary, especially in maritime tales. Rarely did they falter or turn away from battle first. “Lead on.” He drew his pistol and followed the big man through the dimly-illuminated passageways. There would be no mercy if she was dead.
They trailed through the main storage compartments of the hold and passed the sail room as well as the cable locker. The most unsavory of all compartments in the hold loomed ahead—the hell. In the belly of the ship, the constant breaking waves against the hull resonated much louder than in other parts. Roiling motion was also exaggerated here, and only a man very used to a sea-faring life could keep his balance. Even then, too many days would make that man insane. It was a very lonely place, and it had never occurred to him to check this area.
Damn it all.
Brax pulled him behind piles of spare rope and rigging. Broken and torn sails were also stored in the area. “There.” He pointed a stubby finger past the golden circle of lantern light.
“Where is she?” Adrian didn’t bother to whisper. The drumming waves drowned everything else out.
“‘e’s got ‘er in the hell, but I ‘ear ‘er. She be alive, and she be plenty angry.”
When Adrian would have rushed in without a thought, Brax held him back. The burly man shook his head. “Listen. Plan. Anticipate. If ye startle ‘im, ye might get shot. Ye won’t do her no good dead, Cap’n. Or ‘e might shoot yer woman. Ye don’t want that either.”
“You’re right.” Adrian paused. He strained to hear what they said over the general noise.
Voices, barely audible, drifted between crashing waves. “Ever since the cap’n hauled yer sweet arse onboard, ‘e ain’t been the same. Ye turned ‘im, ye did.” The conversation became garbled beneath the echoing sound only to return a few seconds later. “…soft in the head, and me and me mates ain’t standin’ fer that no more. Ye have to go.”
Sarah’s haughty scoff blended with the crashing waves. “I would venture to guess Captain Westerbrooke’s mental state is none of your concern, with or without my presence. Let me out, or at the very least, defend yourself in a fight, or are you too much of a coward?”
Adrian couldn’t help his grin at Sarah’s defense and demand. A rush of relief welled in his chest. She was alive. He clapped a hand on Brax’s shoulder. “It’s not as bad as I’d feared.” The echoing crash of waves drowned out anything else she said.
“Aye, Cap’n, ‘cept we gots a mutiny plot afoot.”
So the rumors were true. “What is the name of the man who holds her?” Death would surely be his fate.
“That be Mack’s voice. Drunk half the time ‘e is. ‘im and five others been grousin’ for weeks. I been keepin’ ‘im under extra watch since we talked about them the other night. One straight shot and I can ‘ave ‘im dead fer ye.”
“No, that shot is mine. He betrayed my goodwill and dared to take what belongs to me. I’ll have his life, and if she’s hurt or injured, I’ll make sure it’s a slow death.” Bile rose in his throat at the thought of Sarah being defiled.
“And ‘is mates?” Brax’s eyes glittered in the shadows.
“Can you identify who Mack runs with?”
“Aye, sir. They be the laziest of the lot. Been wonderin’ wot to do wit’ ‘em fer a while now. No friend to authority are they. No respect among ‘em.” He shook his big head. “Ain’t no part of our crew anymore.”
“I agree. If the men have no loyalty to me, they’re off the ship. Round them up and tie the troublemakers to the masts. You and Little Jim have my orders to give them each fifty lashes with the knotted cat.”
“That be all, Cap’n?”
Adrian set his jaw. Swift death by sword or pistol would be too kind. “No. Throw them in the sea afterward. If their injuries don’t kill them, the sharks surely will. Make very clear that this is the fate of anyone who conspired with them. Traitors and betrayers against the captain will not be tolerated. If there are more than those, I want them ferreted out and dealt with. Understand?”
“Aye. Sorry I failed ye by not tellin’ ye aforehand.”
“I’ll join you in the blame.” He clapped a hand on the other man’s broad shoulder. “And Brax? Do you agree with Mack? Have I gone soft since bringing Miss Covington aboard?” He’d wondered himself, but no matter that she’d protested his handling of the crew, he still carried out his orders. Nothing had changed, yet if the crew noticed a difference…
“No, Cap’n. I be thinkin’ yer finally feelin’ yerself after too many years of tryin’ to be somebody else’s ideal.” His grin flashed a mouthful of uneven teeth, a gruesome affair in the weak light and shifting shadows. “She did it, and that be a good thing. Don’t be doubtin’ yerself.”
“Thanks.” The absolution was small comfort in light of their current situation.
“Ye want me to hold back the flogging fer yer witness?”
“Execute the order on your whim. I have other punishment to deal out.” Adrian sent Brax back to the main decks. Then he slipped from his hiding place, pistol leading the way while holding the lantern with his free hand. “Mack, I advise you to release Miss Covington.”
The man jerked his head up. He stood outside the cell with a pistol aimed inside. “Cap’n, I—”
Adrian grunted. This was the same man he’d ordered whipped with the cat days ago for defying authority. Obviously, he hadn’t gained insight from the punishment. “I don’t care for excuses or lies. If you don’t have the truth, you don’t have much.”
Adrian looped the handle of the lantern over a hook in the wall. “If you abscond with something that doesn’t belong to you, chances are high the owner will take it personally.” He cocked the pistol. “Open the cell, Mack.”
Sarah’s pale face appeared at the bars. “He drugged us and stuck us in here. When we protested, he killed Tommy.” A hiccupping sob obscured her words before she composed herself. “He shot the boy in the head without warning, at point blank range. Tommy… never saw it coming.”
Any second chance Adrian might have given Mack evaporated in the heat of his anger. He focused his attention on the defiant man. “You have betrayed my trust as well as my command. For this I won’t show mercy.” Only then did he glance at Sarah. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” He could barely squeeze the question from his tight throat.
“A few bruises, nothing serious. He said he’d throw me over the side and then come for you. They want your ship.”
He struggled to grasp some semblance of calm even though the urge to pummel the man into pulp raged strong. “Give me the damn keys.” With steady, even steps he advanced, his pistol trained on Mack’s heart.
“Ye’ll have to kill me first.” Sullen and defiant, shadows clung to the wrinkles and whiskers on his face. “Ye fucked the girl and lost yer edge, Cap’n. That’s the curse o’ the females. Ye ain’t the best fit fer the Lady Catherine any longer.”
“So then it’s mutiny you’re after? If you’re that stupid, I encourage you to challenge me. The winner gets the ship, how’s that?”
“It ain’t jest me who wishes the challenge.”
“I’m well aware of your cronies, and they’re being rounded up as we speak.” Adrian peered at Sarah. She leaned against a wall with her eyes closed, her lips moving as if she silently prayed. Beyond her in a back corner, the slight body of Tommy lay crumpled. Dark blood stained the straw beneath him. Sarah’s strength bolstered Adrian’s. “Forget the challenge, Mack. I’m not interested in your opinions on my command. I make the rules. You follow them. The end. If you cannot live under my orders, then you shall die by my hand. That is my right as well as yours. I have never made any bones about this. You know the consequences.”
“I ain’t goin’ without a fight.” Mack glared. “I’ll kill her afore I let you get me.”
Adrian stared at the man he’d interacted with a handful of times. He dismissed the threat. “Brax is even now doling out appropriate punishment for attempting to invoke a mutiny. You’re welcome to join them, but death here will be much swifter when coupled with the fact you’ve committed a more egregious crime—daring to lay a hand on Miss Covington without her permission or mine. Not to mention the murder of an innocent boy.”
Mack closed his fingers tight around the key ring. “I stand firm in me decision.”
“Such a shame, as do I. Let me leave you with this.” Adrian looked again at Sarah. She hadn’t moved. “No one touches, or even talks to, her without my leave. She is goodness and light, but harbors a fury the likes of which I have never seen. If I don’t kill you, she surely will, and she will invoke the wrath of the sea itself. Plus, I’ll give her the blade to do it.” His stomach clenched. Perhaps he would spread that rumor around the crew in order to ensure her continued safety. “I won’t recall her if she goes after you.”
“She be a female only, with no power or intelligence.” Defiance lined every crease on Mack’s face.
“In that you are most assuredly wrong.” Adrian bit back his rage. He had the upper hand regardless. Since Mack hadn’t yet brandished his pistol, Adrian wagered he was more swagger than action. He wasn’t the mastermind of the operation. “Will you surrender?”
“Never. I ain’t under yer control no more, Cap’n.”
Adrian nodded. “Very well. I will have your life for this crime.” It could be classified as cold-blooded murder, but then he’d needed little more than this to end a man’s life before. This was how justice was dispensed on his ship. “May God have mercy on you, Mack.” He squeezed the trigger.
The man crumpled like a sack of flour with surprise reflected in his dead, glassy eyes. Blood oozed from the gaping hole in his chest. Smoke from the gun’s discharge clouded the air and swirled around the lantern, like a soul looking for its next plane of existence. Sarah’s sobs echoed over the sound of the waves crashing against the hull. As Adrian tucked his pistol into its holster, he calmly bent and then yanked the key ring from Mack’s lifeless hand. His pulse raged in his temples. His head pounded. Yet, he refused to show his fear as he straightened. Every man on his crew knew the rules as well as the punishment. There was precious little room for excuses. He fit the appropriate key into the rusty lock and turned. The cell door swung outward. Sarah remained motionless. He stood still as well, drenched with the shock of what he’d almost lost.
Her cheeks wet with tears, her hair mussed and tangled, and her skin pale, Adrian thought her beautiful, ethereal. Mine. He left the keys in the lock and, with limbs that had all the strength of jelly, entered the cell. His jaw clenched. Every beat of his heart whispered her name, yet the words he wanted—needed—to say lodged stubbornly in his throat. Instead, he did the next best thing. He closed the distance, crushed her into his arms, and claimed her mouth as if he was drowning and she had the last breath of life.
Adrian slid his hands into her hair. He cradled her head as he reacquainted himself with her lips, her tongue, her very being. She responded in kind, kissing him back, matching his every move, her tears wetting his cheeks. He stroked his tongue along the silky heat of hers, thrusting into her mouth in an effort to stave off the frantic urge to claim her, to quiet his own fears that he wasn’t good enough, to reassure himself their relationship hadn’t changed.
But it had, in hundreds of small ways even beyond how frantic he’d felt while she’d been threatened. For good, bad, and the gray areas in between, acceptance encompassed them all.
Sarah’s fingers dug into his shoulders and brought him back to the moment. “I’m so sorry I let this happen. I thought he was merely in the sick bay for a hangnail.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“If it wasn’t for me Tommy would still be alive and you wouldn’t have needed to kill your crewmember…” She glanced at Mack’s body and shuddered.
“You cannot think that way. Sarah, I—”
An explosion rocked the ship and echoed tenfold through the hell. Adrian stumbled and fought for footing. He wrapped his arms around her and shielded her from crashing into the wall.
“Cap’n Westerbrooke?” Brax’s concerned shout filtered into the hold. “Sir?”
“I’m here. What was that?” He cradled Sarah to him while he steeled himself for the news. What else would fate throw his way?
“Cap’n, we be under attack.”
“Acknowledged. Begin preparations to defend and engage, Brax.”
“Aye.”
When Brax’s bootsteps faded, Adrian released Sarah enough to hold her gaze in the dim light. “I suppose it would be a useless endeavor to ask that you remain in your cabin?”
She wiped at the moisture on her cheeks, but a tiny smile curved her lips. “You know me well, Captain.” Her gaze shifted to the body in the corner. A soft sob escaped her. “Am I not part of this crew?”
“You are.”
“Good. Then we will fight back-to-back if necessary. I do this for Tommy’s memory.” Her voice wobbled once before evening out. “I think he would have been pleased to see a woman fighting for him.”
“Aye, he would.” Adrian caught a fresh tear with the pad of his thumb. “Good luck, Sarah. Stay safe. I’m unwilling to give you up to Davy Jones just yet.” Too many things remained unsaid between them; too many thoughts would remain buried if the fight went against them. His chest tight, he leaned in and brushed a fleeting kiss to her lips. “God help us both.”
She nodded. “See you on the other side.”
Chapter Ten
From his observation post behind the mast on the up
per deck, Adrian watched his crew scramble into positions. White puffs of smoke from the cannons on the starboard side wafted into the darkened skies, temporarily obscuring the stars. The constable had fired a couple of warning shots, standard procedure for his ship. Approaching vessels received one warning of intent. Sarah stood nearby, quietly talking to Doctor Anderson about their strategy to deal with the seriously wounded. The dead would, of course, be rolled overboard. It was the only option.
Gleaning small comfort from her presence, Adrian turned to Elmwood, who’d tucked in his shirt as he arrived on deck. “Report my good man.”
“Spotters in the crow’s nest say it’s a Spanish frigate named the Isabella. One of the men we took on a few months ago told me she hails from Santiago de los Caballeros on the Dominican island. It’s why she intercepted us so quickly.”
“Damn that Ortiz.” Adrian struck a fist to the railing in front of him. “I had a feeling he’d double cross me.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “He must have known the ship was docked out here. He would have anticipated our passage through these waters.”
“Well, we do plan to double cross him as well, Captain.” A trace of humor wove through Elmwood’s voice.
A wry grin curled Adrian’s mouth. “Indeed we do, and still will, once we dispose of this problem.” He transferred his gaze to the approaching ship. White sails billowed full as the wind increased, the flag of Spain flying proud from the main mast. In the far distance, lightning flickered blue against the darkness. The storm would be upon them in less than a half hour.
Adrian frowned. The weather could complicate an already volatile situation, yet storms upon the sea came up with nary a warning. “I refuse to lose our hard-won cargo to the Spaniards or Mother Nature. Hold the course, Elmwood. Sail with the wind. Let’s attempt to outrun them first and use the storm to our advantage.”
“Aye, Captain.” Elmwood ran toward the stairs.
“Raise the colors, boys! Let’s show Spain we mean business.”