The Restitution

by M. L. Tyndall

  “You care not for my son! You don’t even know him.”

  “’Tis true, I don’t know him, but he is my son too. And I can see how much he means to you. Let me help you find him.”

  Isabel scratched her arms.

  Kent shifted his stance. “Come with me on my ship.”

  Terror darted across her eyes. She shook her head. “Never.”

  “As my guest this time.”

  She stared at him as if he’d asked her to walk the plank.

  He took a step toward her. She flinched.

  “Alas, milady. I will not force you to accompany me. I will not force myself on you in any way.” The thought of endless nights knowing she was but a few feet away from him wrenched at his resolve. ’Twould be a hard promise to keep. Perhaps too hard for the likes of him. “You have my word.”

  “Your word means nothing to me. You are a liar and a thief—a pirate.” She raised her tiny red nose in the air.

  “Perhaps.” He bowed. “But if you wish to see your son again, this pirate is all you have.”

  Chapter Four

  On Board the Restitution

  Isabel emerged from the mesh of soggy green vines. Her boots sank into the sand of the secluded shore—hidden far away from the busy docks of Kingston Bay where the prying eyes of both the Royal Navy and the pirate hordes would recognize the infamous Captain Kent Carlton. In her haste, she’d been able to write only a short note for the Reverend, telling him where she went and to please pray. She drew a deep breath. The scent of moist earth and lush forest gave way to the sting of salt and rain.

  The Caribbean.

  With gaping mouth, it loomed before her, showering her with hot spicy breath, luring her into its depths. Waves sloshed gently upon the sand. But Isabel knew their caress was only a facade. She knew all too well the true nature of this vicious sea.

  The sun winked at her as it peered over the horizon, firing flames of ruby, lemon, and coral over the indigo water. Wiping a strand of moist hair from her forehead, she studied Kent’s dark form marching in front of her. Despicable though he might be, he was truly her only hope of finding Frederick. He flung a glance at her over his shoulder, but his expression was lost in the shadows.

  Her gaze took in the gloomy outline of a ship floating offshore. With the sun rising behind it, the three-masted frigate emerged like a fearless leviathan from the deep. Isabel’s empty stomach churned, and her head swam. Raising her hand, she rubbed her temples and tried to steady herself against a sudden rush of blood.

  A cockboat clung to the shore surrounded by three men, who upon seeing their captain, scrambled to their feet.

  “You brung her, I see.” A man tipped his hat at Isabel. “Milady.”

  Smithy. She recognized him from the last time she’d been on Kent’s ship.

  “Let’s be off, then,” Kent ordered, and the men pushed the boat off shore until only the tip of it remained on dry ground. He turned and offered Isabel his hand.

  Ignoring him, she stepped into the tottering craft and nearly fell. Heat flushed her face as she stooped and clung to the sides, making her way to the back. Snickers rose behind her.

  Kent leapt into the boat with ease, followed by his men. “Did you spot anyone while I was gone?”

  ”No, Cap’n,” Smithy answered. “We’ve no’ seen a soul since ye left us.”

  Nodding, Kent sat across from Isabel. She eyed him as the men gave the boat a shove and jumped in. A morning breeze toyed with the umber hair flowing from under his head scarf. He glanced toward his ship, shifting his broad shoulders—shoulders which carried the weight of command well. A few days stubble shadowed his firm jaw. He moved his dark eyes to hers, and a hungry regard shone in them. He neither smiled nor spoke, just absorbed her as if she were the last woman alive.

  Isabel averted her eyes. A strange tingle warmed her belly. Then the massive frigate filled her vision, and the warmth gave way to a chill that threatened to freeze her heart.

  Oh God, what am I doing?

  Was she such a fool as to allow herself to be taken aboard this horrid ship again? Gruesome memories rose like bile slinking up her throat. She held her stomach and feared she would lose her dignity in front of these men.

  Three bare masts jutted into the sky, their spires fisted toward heaven in defiance of God and all that was humane. Shrouds and ratlines climbed up the poles, creating a tangled web from which no victim escaped. Twenty covered gun ports lined the hull in deep slumber, but Isabel knew they could be flung open within minutes and their cannons thrust forth to belch a deadly blast upon their enemies. She could still hear the thunderous boom of those charred beasts and feel the tremor course through her bones. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

  The water gurgled against the boat with each slap of the paddles. The soothing sounds of the jungle birds gave way to the creak and groan of the encroaching monster.

  Frederick. Oh, Frederick. If she kept her son in the forefront of her thoughts, she could do this. She had to do this—for him. Lord, please be with me.

  “You have nothing to fear, milady.”

  Isabel snapped her eyes open to meet Kent’s. His voice carried a sincerity that matched the warmth in his eyes. Yet she knew she could not trust him.

  The cockboat slammed against the moist hull of the frigate with a jarring thud, and two ropes dropped from above. While the pirates tied them to the boat, Kent stood and tugged upon a rope ladder. Turning, he held out his hand for Isabel. “Ladies first.”

  Raising her chin, she stood, refusing his hand but quickly lost her balance again in the teetering vessel. Kent grabbed her elbow to steady her, a faint smirk on his mouth.

  With a sigh, she gathered her skirts and clambered up the ropes. She’d forgotten how cumbersome they could be and nearly lost her footing, but one glance below told her Kent was quick on her heels, ready to catch her should she fall. Her skirts swished as she swung her leg over the bulwarks and braced her shoes on the oak planks of the main deck.

  Dozens of gaping eyes were there to greet her. Their salacious gazes sent her heart thundering. A waft of rum and sweat assailed her. Her legs numbed. She turned away and gripped the railing, breathing heavily. I can’t do this.

  Kent jumped onto the deck and braced his hands on his hips. “What are you looking at, ye numb-brained apes? Get back to work.” He glared at one stout fellow standing nearby. “Gibbons, weigh anchor. Smithy, hoist in the boat and have the men unfurl main- and topsails!”

  “Ye ’eard the cap’n,” Smithy bellowed across the deck. “Be about it or pay the price.” The deck swarmed with men as the pirates scurried to their tasks. Some flung themselves into the shrouds and scrambled aloft. Others circled the capstan and shoved it to hoist the iron anchor from the seabed.

  The sun peeked over the port side railing, shooting its fiery rays over Kent. Like arrows of truth, they illuminated the uneasy sincerity in his eyes—so unlike the man she knew. He raised a brow. A tiny red scar etched a crooked line beneath it. She didn’t remember it from before. “May I escort you to your cabin?”

  After one last glance at the shores of Jamaica, Isabel forced her trembling legs to follow him below. Each step down the companionway stairs brought back harrowing memories of her imprisonment aboard this floating hell.

  “I hope it does not distress you, but I must place you in the same cabin as before.” He swung the oak door open with a grating squeal and entered just as the ship lurched forward. “I fear we are short on space.”

  Clutching the door frame to keep from falling, Isabel peered inside. Atop the oak-framed bed lay a lacy white quilt and beside the bed, a vase bursting with exotic flowers graced a table. Gowns and petticoats spilled from a teakwood trunk. Dread sank its fangs into her soul. Had he expected her to come with him or did he lock other women in here as well?

  “Is this where you keep all your mistresses?”

  “No, only you, milady.” He offered her a mischievous grin, then huffed and crossed his
arms over his chest. “This is the master’s cabin—normally shared by Smithy and one other of my officers.”

  “Are your officers prone to wearing gowns?” she shot back.

  Kent’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Only when the occasion calls for it.”

  Disturbed by the affection she saw in his eyes, Isabel scanned the cabin again. She had spent months in this very room—months of anguish, months of fear—waiting to be summoned to Kent’s cabin, waiting to be ravished. After the first night, he had not touched her, but how was she to know each time he sent for her, he’d wanted only to talk? Now this baffling pirate stood before her, drawing her back into the same prison with his gallant talk and handsome smile. I must be the daftest woman on earth.

  Kent’s gaze drifted over her. “I daresay, I don’t bite anymore. You may come in.”

  Hugging the wall, she entered and scooted to the window. “I will enter your lair, Captain, but I don’t doubt that your bite carries just as potent a sting as it always did.”

  “I hope to dissuade you from that opinion.”

  “The opinion that you are a black-hearted scoundrel, an insolent knave, and a ravisher of innocent women? Don’t get your hopes up.” Isabel met his gaze sternly.

  Pain flared in Kent’s narrowed eyes.

  The ship lunged again, and the snap of sails filled the air as they caught the wind. A young boy appeared in the doorway. “Ye summoned me.” He scowled at his captain.

  “Yes, I’ll have you attend to Lady Ashton’s needs.”

  The boy stepped toward Isabel and smiled. The smoothness of his face betrayed his youth, which Isabel guessed to be no more than thirteen or fourteen years. He was short and a bit portly, with close-cropped brown hair. His cheerful gaze put her immediately at ease.

  “May I introduce Hann, my quartermaster.”

  “Milady.” Hann bowed.

  Kent waved a hand in the air. “Bring her food, water, empty her chamber pot, whatever she needs. I want her to remain as comfortable as possible while she is forced to endure my heinous company.” Pulling a key from his vest pocket, Kent handed it to Isabel. “I’ve moved the lock to the inside of the door.” He cocked a brow. “To further allay your fears.”

  Shouts from above filtered into the cabin, followed by the thud of bare feet over the deck. “Now, with your permission, my attentions are needed elsewhere.” He headed toward the door.

  “Captain?”

  Kent spun around.

  “May I ask where we are going? What is the plan to find Frederick?” She chided herself for not inquiring sooner—for not at least making sure he had a plan and wasn’t just using their son to lure her back onto his ship. Everything had happened so fast. The hope Kent offered had clouded her judgment. She froze. Maybe he wasn’t going to search for Frederick at all.

  He must have sensed her suspicions for he let out a sigh and gave her a sideways glance. “We make sail for Charles Towne. I have an acquaintance who is gathering information on Frederick’s whereabouts whilst we speak. I assure you my motives are pure.”

  He gave her a half-smile and stomped out.

  Hann’s harsh gaze followed his captain from the room, and Isabel sensed the quartermaster didn’t like Kent anymore than she did. But when Hann faced Isabel, his features lightened. “May I get you anything, milady?”

  Something odd struck her about the young lad, but truth be told, he was the only man, aside from the reverend, that Isabel felt immediately safe with. She glanced across the room. Visions of the nightmare she’d endured here taunted her from every corner. “Do you have a Bible on board?”

  Hann’s features twisted for a moment then his eyes lit up. “There might be one here.” He brushed his finger over the scattered books upon the shelves and plucked one from its spot. “’Tis the captain’s, I believe. A gift from an old enemy of his, he once told me.”

  Isabel thought of Merrick and wondered if he were that old enemy. Grabbing it from Hann, she brushed off the dust and thanked him. “That will be all for now, Hann.”

  The boy turned. “I’ll be checkin’ on ye in a bit.”

  After he closed the door, Isabel took the key and locked the bolt. The clanking of the lock scraped over her nerves, reminding her of all the times Kent had imprisoned her in this tiny cabin, terrified and alone. Now she had the key, but somehow, she felt just as much a prisoner as before.

  Had Kent really changed or would he come for her tonight? She found it hard to believe the lecherous rogue she once knew could possess any concern for a son he’d never met. But what else could she do? He was her only hope. Lord, keep me safe.

  Plopping on the bed, Isabel clutched the Bible to her breast. She’d give anything to have Reverend Thomas here with her. She’d not realized how much she’d come to depend on him, for prayer, for comfort, for reciting the right Scripture to her at the right time. Flipping through the pages of the sacred book, she searched for some words of hope, but had no idea where to find them.

  Charles Towne New Providence. So, it seemed she would be going home after all. Perhaps while she was there, she could beg for her parents’ help one last time. Yet the callous words of her father’s letter still kindled anger in her soul. Frederick was their grandson. How could they harbor so little regard for their own flesh and blood?

  Oh Frederick. His screams still rang in her ears, tearing at her heart. Where was he? Was he being harmed? Was he alone and afraid? Isabel fell onto the bed and clutched one of the pillows to her face to stifle her sobs.

  The day crept along with the tumbling of the ship through the Caribbean. After dozing on and off, Isabel rose, washed as best she could with the water from the basin and searched through the trunk of gowns for one that fit her. After donning it, she combed her tousled hair and pinned it up on top of her head.

  A tap on the door startled her, and she opened it to Hann’s grinning face. “The captain requests your presence for dinner, milady.”

  Alarm spiked through her. I’ll bet he does.

  “He wanted me to tell ye that ye’ll be dining with three of his officers, meself included.”

  Kent knew she would never come to his cabin alone, but did he think inviting other pirates would make his company more bearable or her fears less fervent? Yet she had so many questions that only he could answer—the main at present being what sort of man had taken Frederick. Her stomach churned. Perhaps some food would help settle it.

  “All right then. Shall we?” She followed Hann out the door and down the hallway, and then turned toward the stern of the ship. The lad sauntered in front of her, but Isabel faltered with each step. The moist walls closed in on her, suffocating her as the stench of decaying fish, rotting wood, and the bilge from below saturated her lungs and ignited her nightmares with vivid memories. Periodic lanterns mounted on the walls flickered monstrous shadows, daring her to continue forward. Her legs began to quiver. How many times had she been forced to walk down this hall? “Please tell me this time is different.”

  “Milady?” Hann glanced over his shoulder.

  “Nothing.”

  Stopping, Hann opened the door and motioned for her to enter. A wave of dizziness whirled her vision. Kent stood with his back to her, gazing out the stern window. He turned, drink in one hand, the other behind his back. His eyes lit up as his gaze took in her gown. No hat or scarf sat atop his umber hair which fell to his shoulders in neatly combed strands.

  He straightened his leather jerkin and skirted the table that took up most of the small room. “Hann, summon Cutter and Smithy if you please.”

  Isabel darted a pleading gaze toward Hann before he shut the door.

  Placing a hand on her gurgling stomach, she glared at Kent. His black knee-high boots pounded over the floor as he approached, the hilt of a knife protruding from the right one. How had she ended up alone with him in his cabin?

  Kent halted a few feet from her. “I know you’re afraid of me, and you have good reason. But it would give me great pleasure if yo
u would not look at me as if I were the devil himself.”

  “And why would I desire to give you great pleasure?”

  He grimaced and tipped his glass toward her. “Indeed.” He took a sip.

  Scanning the room, Isabel noted thankfully that the bed had been stowed in favor of the dining table, set with four places. Cluttering the middle were bowls of fruit, biscuits, and blocks of cheese.

  “I take it you find your accommodations suitable?” Kent asked.

  “No more suitable than the last time.”

  “Ah, but things have changed since then.”

  “Have they?”

  Kent stepped toward her. “Perhaps you should look closer.”

  His warm breath drifted over her—wood, spice, and rum. She felt his gaze wander from her face and down her neck, and she stepped aside, fear and confusion raking over her.

  Clearing his throat, Kent took another sip from his glass and turned away. “Truth be told, I have come to loathe myself for what I did.” Was that a crack in his otherwise stern voice?

  Relief swept through her. It would appear at least he had no intention of ravishing her again. She studied him, his wavy hair so much like Frederick’s. “So you don’t care about your son? This whole thing is simple some form of selfish restitution?”

  He swung around and gave her a hard look.

  It only increased her fury. “Do you think you can pay for what you’ve done? Do you know what I’ve been through this past year?” She began to pace, the rustle of her skirts filling the room. “And after you do me this great service of finding my son? What then? What do you hope for then?”

  Kent’s lips curled. “Only that you will find my company somewhat tolerable.”

  “I will not find myself in your company at all,” she spat but instantly regretted her words. Why was she being so deliberately cruel to the only man who could help her?

  Flinching, Kent downed his remaining drink and slammed his glass on the table.

  She opened her mouth, hoping to say something that would soften her harsh outburst, but two men bounded through the door, silencing her. Hann followed behind them.