Isabel snorted. Yet he was right. It was his kiss—or rather her reaction to it—that had stolen her sleep. Why, when she was betrothed to Sawkins, did Kent fill her thoughts day and night? Though she had searched the pages of the Bible and sought God in prayer, she had found neither answers nor comfort. “You assume too much, Captain.” She faced the sea again, amazed at his audacity but unable to stop the grin forming on her mouth.
Apparently, he noticed her smile as well, for he cupped his warm hand over hers on the railing. “I need not assume when I have the memory of your ardor burning upon my lips.”
“You forget,” Isabel said, jerking her hand from under his. “I am betrothed.”
“Rest assured, I have not forgotten.” He raised his right brow, his tiny scar reddening in the sunlight.
Sorrow darkened his eyes, and Isabel longed to brighten them again. Was this a trick of Satan to keep her from God’s will? She rubbed her temples, weary of her tormenting thoughts. She’d finally decided last night that she must keep her mind and heart entirely on Frederick—on finding him, and securing his future. Surely they were nearing the end of their journey and soon her son would be back in her arms. When he was, marrying Sawkins would be the best thing for Frederick.
Yet when she stared into Kent’s eyes and felt her heartbeat quicken and her body warm, all sense of reason vanished like mist before the sun’s hot rays. Last night, in her anger and confusion she had told him he was without honor. Yet he’d displayed naught but honor these past weeks. How deep that insult must have sliced into his heart. Yet here he was, behaving the gentleman.
“You are rather solicitous this morning after the cruel things I said to you.”
“I am learning forgiveness these days. In fact, I find it quite freeing.”
“You?” Isabel snapped. Something new flickered within his eyes. Confusion dove into the already chaotic stew of her mind. “You surprise me, Captain.”
“That I can still do so, pleases me.” He grinned and shifted his gaze to the sea. “You were thinking of Frederick when I approached you?”
“Yes.” Just the sound of his name awakened the ache in Isabel’s chest. “Not a minute passes in which I do not think of him.”
Nodding, Kent rubbed the back of his neck. “He has been on my mind as well. I wish to know my son.”
Wrinkling her brow, Isabel searched his eyes, expecting to see sarcasm or insincerity lurking in their depths, but instead a sheen of moisture covered them.
“I prayed for him last night.” He offered her a guarded smile.
“You? Prayed?”
Boots thundered across the deck behind them. “Ah, there you are, my love.” Sawkins approached. “Trying to steal my fiancé, Captain?”
Kent turned to face him. “Nay, I believe that is your specialty.”
The ship dipped over a wave, and Kent flung a possessive hand to Isabel’s back to steady her.
Pushing Kent’s arm aside, Sawkins squeezed in between them and grabbed Isabel’s hand. “Word has come to me that you were attacked last night.” He placed a wet kiss upon her cheek. “Tell me you are unharmed.”
Isabel took a step back. “I am fine, thank you.” The scent of cedar washed over her, pricking her memory. “Where were you last night?”
“I am ashamed to say that I felt a bit under the weather and retired early, my love.” His shoulders drooped. “And I am horrified that I was not there to save you, although I’m told the captain did a reasonable job as my second.” Sawkins’s eyes glinted with amusement.
Kent returned his stare with a fiery gaze and fingered the hilt of his cutlass.
Isabel felt a sudden desire to defend the man who had saved her. “The captain was quite gallant.”
“Ah, pish,” Sawkins stammered. “’Twould be a first, to be sure. But Captain, where is this Murdock? I trust you have dealt with the scoundrel?” Sawkins’s eyelid twitched.
Kent narrowed his eyes. “He has found a new home, locked in the hold for now. I have questioned him, but he was not forthcoming with information.”
“He should be hung at once from the yardarm.” Sawkins waved his hand in the air. “What kind of pirate captain are you?”
“There is a bigger player in this, your lordship. ’Tis the shark we want, not the minnows who swim beneath his shadow.”
A trickle of sweat slid down Sawkins’s cheek as he lowered his hand beside his cutlass, stretched his fingers, and glowered at the captain.
“Captain, pray tell how far are we from Cartagena?” Isabel thrust between them, hoping to arrest the developing skirmish. “Surely we are near our destination by now.”
“Aye, milady, we are but three days out,” Kent answered her without removing his eyes from Sawkins’s. “At which time, your betrothed has promised to enlighten us as to our son’s whereabouts.”
A grin squirmed upon Sawkins’s lips.
“Of course.” Isabel turned and smiled sweetly at Sawkins. “Lord Sawkins will do so, Captain. He is a man of his word, and he cares deeply for my son.”
“That I do, my love.” Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek again, while darting a taunting glance at Kent.
“A sail!” A shout blasted from above.
“I beg your pardon, milady. I must attend to my duties.” Kent bowed. “I will not be far should you need me.” He regarded Sawkins with disdain, then turned and gazed upward. “Where away?”
“Two points off the larboard quarter!”
Marching across the quarterdeck, Kent plucked his spyglass from his belt and held it to his eye.
Sawkins stiffened beside her as he craned his neck for a view of the ship.
Shielding her eyes from the sun, Isabel, too, squinted for a glimpse over Kent’s shoulder but could see naught but a speck on the horizon. Whoever it was, the ship was too far away to be bothered with.
Frowning, Sawkins’s eyes flickered when he spotted Smithy and the other pirates up on the poop deck. Smithy nodded in his direction. Sawkins’s face twisted into a knot. He seemed to have forgotten Isabel.
“Milord?” Isabel peered up at him.
Biting his lip, he returned his gaze to the ship on the horizon.
“Milord? Are you all right?”
He glanced down at her, a sudden smile replacing his scowl. “Ah yes, my love, forgive me. I’m simply concerned for your safety.”
“Not every ship in the Caribbean means us harm,” she said, despite a niggling doubt that his thoughts were truly focused on her protection.
“Yes, never you fear.” He patted her hand nervously between his. “Now, I beg your pardon, milady, but I have some business to attend to.” He scrambled off before Isabel could inquire what possible business could he have on board Captain Carlton’s ship.
She backed against the railing, steering clear of the pirates rushing about in response to Kent’s bellowed orders. The captain lowered his spyglass and marched down to the main deck, Smithy on his heels. Several men flung themselves into the ratlines and scrambled aloft.
Isabel shifted her gaze to the ship on the horizon. Its silhouette had grown larger. Perhaps it was a threat, after all.
Sawkins’s tall frame came into view, huddling with a group of pirates up on the poop deck—Gibbons, Wolcott, and Zeke among them. Whispers hissed among them like snakes, and Isabel took a step in their direction, curious to know what they were discussing. Sawkins slid his hand over the cutlass hanging at his side and uneasiness slithered over Isabel.
Unable to make out their words, she shifted her gaze to the captain as he studied the oncoming ship with Smithy, Caleb, and Sparks by his side. She searched her heart for the bitterness that normally flooded her when she looked at Kent, but could no longer find a trace of it. He was not the same man who had ravished her over a year ago. What had changed him? Forcing down her rising admiration, Isabel tried to pull her gaze from him, but found she could not. Instead, she chided herself, for she could no longer deny the strong feelings burning within her.
Several more pirates sprang up on deck and scrambled to the railings for a view of the pursuing ship. Her sails burst like white clouds against the horizon. Whoever they were, they had set a course directly for the Restitution.
Hann’s vibrant chuckle caught Isabel’s attention. With hand clutching her side, the pirate girl descended the foredeck ladder. At the bottom, Cutter eased beside her, his hand grazing Hann’s in a gentle touch that he quickly snapped away. Isabel glanced over the ship, wondering if anyone else noticed their playful dalliance, but all the pirates’ gazes were glued to the horizon where the frame of the oncoming ship continued to grow.
Dashing down the ladder, Isabel rushed to her friends. “I’m happy to see you are feeling better, Hann.”
“Aye, milady.” Hann winked. “Must be the good doctoring.” She smiled up at Cutter. “I’m still a bit sore, however.”
“I’m taking her down to her cabin to get some rest.” Cutter’s stern gaze drifted over Hann.
“Against my wishes,” Hann snapped.
Kent glanced in their direction, then faced his first mate. “Signal for a show of colors, Mr. Smithy.”
“See? I am needed here.” Hann scanned her comrades scattering across the ship and adjusted her waistcoat. “I must have my weapons.”
“You’ll have no such thing,” Cutter stormed. “You will be of no use in your condition. I insist you go below.”
“You insist, do you?” Hann crossed her arms over her chest and winced.
Chuckling, Cutter shook his head. “And it is not because you are a woman,” he whispered. “An adorable one at that, I might add, but because you are my patient. And as my patient, you must do what I say until you are well.”
Hann stared at him for a minute, then grinned. “Very well.” She turned to Isabel. “I’m glad to see you are safe, milady. I warned you not to go below.”
Isabel nodded and gestured toward Cutter. “I have the doctor here to thank for that.”
“My pleasure.” Cutter’s gnarled lips curved in a smile. “But I hear ’twas the captain who saved you.” His sandy hair flopped in the breeze as he glanced nervously toward the other ship. “Now you’d best get below too, miss. Looks as though we’re to have company soon.”
Isabel studied the ship. The tip of her bowsprit charged toward them like a sword amidst the spray of white foam. “Yes, but we don’t know whether they are hostile.”
“Not to alarm you.” Cutter’s brow wrinkled. “But rarely have I seen a ship take a course directly toward another out of friendly intentions.”
Isabel’s gaze landed on Kent, who leveled the spyglass to his eye once again. His calm demeanor had previously sufficed to belay all her fears, yet now she sensed a tension in his stance. She offered Hann and Cutter a weak smile. “I’ll be all right.”
With an anxious nod, Cutter led Hann away, and Isabel watched them disappear down the companionway, envying their happiness. At one time, they had both possessed title and wealth. Now they had neither. Yet what they had now was far more precious than all the treasure in the world.
Tension buzzed over the ship as pirates scrambled up from below, their arms filled with pistols, knives and boarding axes. Dread weighed on Isabel. Were they to engage in another sea battle?
Lifting her skirts, she marched toward Kent. “Who is it, Captain?”
As he lowered his glass, his brown eyes narrowed. “Morris.”
Elation claimed Isabel’s heart. She raised a hand to her chest to steady its beating. Frederick. They had found Morris. But why was he heading toward them. What did it matter? With every wave he passed, with every swell he crested, Morris brought Frederick back into her arms.
She darted to the railing for a closer look, straining her eyes for a glimpse of anyone on the deck. If she could just see Frederick—just to know he was all right. Hope brought tears of joy to her eyes.
A plume of gray smoke erupted from the bow of Morris’s ship. Instantly, strong arms forced her to the deck. Kent’s warm body covered her as the air exploded around them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brotherly Love
The Restitution shook from bow to stern, sending a shudder through Isabel that rattled her bones along with her nerves. The snap of taut cords and the splitting of wood filled the air, followed by a barrage of angry curses spewing from the pirates’ lips.
Kent’s weight lifted from her. “Osborn, damage report, if you please.” His commanding tone held no hint of panic.
“Minor, Captain, just a crack in the foretop,” came the quick reply.
Isabel staggered to her feet, the blast still ringing in her ears. Terror sent her heart into her throat.
Frederick was on that ship.
Her son was now in the middle of a sea battle. She glanced at the angry vessel still charging straight for them. The smoke curled around the black muzzle of a swivel gun perched on her bow.
Isabel spun back around to see Kent stomping across the deck amidst an agitated sea of pirates rushing to their stations.
“Bring her to the wind, Mr. Hoornes,” he yelled, then turned to Smithy. “Have Logan run out the starboard battery.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Smithy’s shaggy hair disappeared below.
Hordes of pirates poured from the hatches. Dressed in flashy waistcoats adorned with sashes, and bright scarves tied around their heads, they strapped on knifes, axes, and swords. Pistols tied to ribbons draped over their shoulders bounced against their chests as they darted across the deck.
The Restitution swung about, and Isabel clung to the railing to keep from falling. Sails cracked like whips as the mighty frigate listed heavily to starboard. A surge of wind crashed over her, loosening strands of hair from her combs. Shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, she watched Morris’s relentless pursuit. Men skittered across her decks, but there was no sign of Frederick. Panic clamped her heart. Why had Morris attacked them? Did he still have her son?
She scanned the chaotic mob of pirates speeding across the deck of the Restitution and spotted Kent handing out weapons to a cluster of ex-slaves. Taking a deep breath, she weaved her way though the crowd toward him. Men bumped into her from all sides in their frenzy to prepare for battle. Rubbing her arm from one such encounter, she approached the captain.
“Surely you don’t intend to fire upon the ship with Frederick on board,” she shouted over the din.
Kent handed out the last pistol, then nodded at the slaves before his gaze snapped to hers. “I assure you, milady. I shall take every precaution.” His eyes were ablaze with the fervor of battle as he glanced over her shoulder.
“Take precautions?” Isabel clutched his arm, drawing his attention back to her. “You must not harm him!”
His jaw flexed. “He is my son too.” The anger in his voice startled Isabel.
With a sigh, Kent pulled her hand from his arm and squeezed it between his. “Trust me.” He nodded, raising his brows. “Will you trust me for once?”
Isabel didn’t have time to answer before a clamor of obscenities erupted behind her.
“He’s running out ’is guns, Cap’n,” Mac shouted from the crosstrees.
“Please go below.” Kent gave her hand a final squeeze and stormed up to Sawkins, who stood with unusual repose by the capstan. “You said Captain Morris was in Cartagena.”
Sawkins shrugged. “Perhaps he was delayed.” He eased a finger over his mustache. “’Tis not my fault he happened upon you when he did.”
A thunderous boom pounded the sky like a hammer. Covering her head, Isabel dropped to the deck. The zoom of a cannon shot split the air above her, sending a crackle down her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to be struck and torn asunder at any moment. The crunch of wood, followed by an ominous splash, told her she’d been spared. Thank you, Lord.
That second brazen attack ignited a fire beneath the pirates. They swarmed upon the railings and into the shrouds like a horde of wasps, slashing their swords out before them and pour
ing out a string of curses that inflamed Isabel’s ears.
“Sparks, musketeers to the tops,” Kent bellowed as he made his way to the quarterdeck. Men brandishing muskets nearly as tall as themselves clambered into the ratlines.
Isabel backed into the main deck railing. Biting her lip, she allowed her gaze to wander over the scene of impending battle. Sunlight flashed off swords and knifes hefted about by pirates who growled and cursed and spat onto the deck. Smoke lingered in the air from Morris’s cannon fire. Off the starboard side, his ship plummeted toward them, rising and plunging through the sea. Suddenly, the vessel veered sharply and brought all her guns to bear. Isabel cringed in horror. How far had she fallen from the privileged comforts of her parents’ estate at Hertfordshire?
Captain Carlton, hands planted on his waist, stared resolutely at their oncoming enemy. She’d seen him fight many battles. If nothing else, he was a good pirate captain, and her confidence in his abilities gave her some solace. But her comfort quickly dissolved as she remembered his predicament. How could he subdue Morris without harming the pirate’s ship and the precious child inside?
Sawkins cast a curious look at her over his shoulder. His eyes twinkled as if he held some grand secret. She wondered at his sudden brave demeanor.
The Restitution thrust boldly into a rolling swell. Her crowded sails snapped in the wind. The vessel dipped to starboard, and Isabel clung to the railing as seawater flooded the deck. The ship righted, and the salty water slid back through the scuppers to the ocean below. In a burst of speed, the Restitution swept athwart Morris’s larboard beam.
Thumps and clanks off their starboard side reached Isabel’s ears. She dashed toward the railing, and leaned over the side. Below, all twenty of the Restitution’s gun ports flew open. Blackened muzzles poked their heads through the gaping holes.
“No!” Isabel shouted. Lifting her skirts, she raced across the deck, took the quarterdeck ladder in two leaps, and barreled into the captain.
“No! Frederick might be hurt.” Isabel jerked his arm.
“Stand fast, gentlemen.” Kent swung an arm around her shoulder and held her in place. “Steady now.”
The Restitution Page 24