The Restitution

by M. L. Tyndall

  She spun on her heels, desperation gripping every nerve. Kent wrestled in the grasp of two pirates. The tip of a sword held Cutter in place, and Lord Sawkins strutted toward her, a malicious grin dripping on his lips.

  The thump of a plank drew Isabel’s attention, and she turned to see a pathway of wood had been lain between the two ships—a pathway to her son. Lifting her skirts, she raced toward it just as Sawkins seized her by the waist and yanked her aside. “No you don’t, my love.”

  Isabel struggled to pry his thick fingers from her gown. “Let me go, you beast.”

  “Is that any way to speak to your betrothed?”

  “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the King of England.”

  “Let her go!” Kent shouted. Wrenching from the two pirates’ grips, he knocked them to the deck and charged toward Sawkins. With hands still tied behind his back, he struck his brother with the full impact of his muscular chest. Sawkins’s clasp on Isabel snapped, and he toppled backward.

  Captain Morris jumped onto the plank, his heavy boots pounding on the wood. “Is this the way you control your men, Captain Sawkins?”

  Regaining his footing, Sawkins muttered under his breath, his face aflame, and snarled at Morris. “Mr. Carlton was just on his way to the hold.” He gestured toward Smithy.

  “Nay, not yet. I have something for him to see.” Morris stomped over the plank and jumped onto the deck, followed by five of his crew.

  Isabel raised her gaze to a pair of icy blue eyes. Her stomach lurched. The same beady eyes of the pirate who’d approached her on the streets of Port Royal—the one who’d had an obsessive interest in her son. His salt-and-pepper hair coiled around his broad face like the snakes on Medusa. Beneath a rich damask waistcoat, his budging stomach swelled.

  “Lady Ashton.” He donned his hat and swept it before him, the feathers fluttering in the breeze. “A pleasure to see you again.”

  “You,” Isabel stammered. “You took my son.”

  “That I did. And I must say he’s been quite the brat.”

  Isabel rushed toward him, the instinct to protect her baby overpowering her fear. “Where is he?”

  One of Morris’s men grabbed her, and she winced. “I demand you return my son at once!”

  “You do? Why I admire your pluck, milady.” He turned to Sawkins. “I can see why you are fond of her.”

  Throwing his shoulders back, Sawkins came and stood beside Morris. “Yes, you and I share the same fine taste in—”

  “Such soft skin.” Morris ignored him and slid the back of a finger over Isabel’s cheek.

  Flinching, she turned her face away.

  “And such exquisite eyes and hair.” He reached up to stroke a lock of her hair.

  Kent threw himself between them. “Take what you came for, Morris, but leave the lady alone.”

  The pirate released Isabel. Brushing past Kent, she whisked tears from her face. “I want my son.”

  The mob on Morris’s ship parted for a dark-skinned woman holding a bundle to her chest. She halted before the plank.

  “Ask and ye shall receive.” Morris grinned with a gesture toward his ship.

  Isabel’s heart burst. “Frederick!” She dashed toward the woman, nearly tripping over her skirts.

  Frederick let out a sniveling wail as if he recognized his mother’s voice.

  “Ah-ah-ah, miss,” Morris said as two of his men stepped in her way. She charged into them, the moisture from their sweaty shirts greasing her palms. The stench of dried urine and fish assailed her. Shifting to the side, she tried to dart around them, but one caught her by the wrist and yanked her back.

  Kent lunged toward Morris.

  In a flash of glimmering steel, Morris drew his sword and staved him off with the tip. He swaggered toward Kent. “Captain, I see you’ve grown quite fond of Lady Ashton. If I’d known, I would have kidnapped her as well. Nonetheless, this grand event has been staged solely for your benefit.” He waved a hand over the scene. “Aren’t you pleased? For this is all your doing.”

  Frederick bawled, and Kent’s gaze traveled from the dark-skinned woman to Isabel.

  “Ah, but you have yet to meet your son, am I right?” Morris glanced over his shoulder. “Darla, bring him here.” He motioned with two jeweled fingers. “’Tis only fitting you should see him—at least once before you die.”

  The woman inched past Isabel, pain clouding her expression. Sobbing, Isabel struggled for just one glance of her son, but all she could see was a lock of curly brown hair—enough to assure her, however, that it was indeed Frederick. Desperate to touch him, she wrenched against the fierce clamp on her arms until pain shot down to her fingers. “My baby,” she sobbed, nausea choking in her throat.

  The woman stopped before Kent and held back the blanket. Kent gazed down upon the baby. A quick flutter of his eyelids was the only indication the sight of his son affected him. When Kent lifted his face, his expression remained stoic, although moisture gleamed in his eyes.

  “Why should I care about this child?” Kent shrugged his shoulders. “Why, I’ve fathered an army of brats across the Caribbean. This one is nothing special.”

  His declaration pierced Isabel’s heart. How could he say such a thing? A heaviness settled on her, tugging her down. Had she been such a fool as to fall for both Sawkins’s and Kent’s trickery?

  Morris cocked his head and eyed Kent with suspicion.

  “Give him to his mother.” Kent gestured toward Isabel. “He means nothing to me.”

  Morris’s eyes began to sparkle. “Egad man, you had me going for a moment.” He chuckled. “But I don’t believe you. Otherwise why would you have taken the lady and come after me?”

  “I came after you”—Kent narrowed his eyes upon Morris—“because I heard you had a fair amount of treasure aboard, and I took the lady because she pleases me in bed.”

  Well, at least Isabel knew that much wasn’t true. Heat sizzled up her neck as the pirates’ chortles filled the air. Even Morris turned around to leer at her. Beyond him, Kent’s face came into view. He winked at Isabel.

  “We shall see,” Morris said.

  Sawkins marched up to Morris, one hand on his waist. “Captain Morris. I’ve done what you asked. What of our bargain?”

  “Our accord remains,” Morris said with annoyance. “The ship is yours. At least you were able to do that successfully.”

  “This ship will never be his!” Kent spat.

  “I daresay?” Morris glanced across the deck, sarcasm dripping in his voice. “Why it appears you are mistaken, Captain.”

  Sawkins took a step closer, a nervous gulp gliding down his throat. “And you’ll introduce me to Captain Morgan as we agreed?”

  “Do you doubt my word?” Morris snapped. “I assure you, I’ve arranged for you to meet Morgan very soon.” A hint of a smile lifted his curled mustache.

  “Why you spineless snake.” Kent rushed toward Sawkins. “You think joining Morgan will make you a man. He’ll not put up with the likes of you for long.” Morris threw out an arm to block Kent’s path, halting him before he reached Sawkins.

  “Sorry Brother, but I fear you are mistaken this time. I do, however, apologize for the way things turned out. I needed a ship.” He raised his cultured brows. “Yours seemed the easiest to come by. All I had to do was inform Captain Morris of your son’s whereabouts and convince you to bring me aboard. ’Twas much easier than I thought.” He ran a hand through his golden hair, his eyes glinting with humor.

  “Well, let’s get on with it, then, shall we?” Morris rubbed his hands together and faced Darla, who slowly backed away from him. She bumped into a wall of pirates, and Morris snatched the bundle from her.

  Gasping, Isabel freed one arm and reached for her son. The blanket fell from his body. Arms and legs flailing, he let out a tiny yelp. “Frederick!” she screamed, struggling to free herself from the pirate. Despite his soiled nightdress, her son looked well and in one piece.

  Frederick’s tear-st
reaked face darted to hers. His eyes widened and he reached out both chubby arms toward her. His moist pink lips drew into a tight knot before he let out a shriek that tore her heart in two.

  “I told you he was a brat,” Morris yelled over the screeching. “Does nothing but cry all the time. Rather annoying on a ship.” Clutching Frederick by his nightdress, he held him at arm’s length as if the boy had a disease, then ambled over to the plank, and leapt upon it.

  In a burst of strength, Isabel turned to the pirate holding her and kicked him in the shin. Releasing her with a curse, he bent to rub his leg. She raced toward Frederick, knocking men out of the way as she went.

  Although still bound, Kent joined her in a mad dash to rescue their son, but one word from Morris sent a swarm of his men to block their path.

  “Grab them both. And bring them to the railing. I want them to see every minute of this.” Fury seethed in Morris’s eyes.

  Balancing himself with the swaying of the ships, Morris stepped to the center of the plank and held Frederick over the side. “Now we shall see how much you care for your son, Captain.”

  Kent howled as he wrestled against the grip of three pirates. “Mark my words, Morris. If you harm a hair on his head, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.” He lunged, the sweaty strands of his hair flinging before him.

  “I thought as much.” Morris smirked, then glanced at Isabel. “Did Captain Carlton tell you what he did to my son?” His eyes flared. “He blew him to pieces aboard Morgan’s flagship. He was only one and twenty.” Dropping his gaze, Morris swallowed then looked down at the choppy water below.

  “No, please,” Isabel begged, her voice screeching in agony. “Please. He’s just a baby. He’s done you no harm.” Tears sped down her cheeks and dripped onto her gown. “I beg you.” She tugged against the pirate’s hold, agony squeezing her heart. She looked at her son. He had stopped crying and was pointing at the gurgling water below. Then his gaze rose and his innocent eyes locked upon Isabel’s. He reached out for her, legs kicking in the wind. His face scrunched, his eyes pooled, and his nose reddened. He began to whimper.

  Isabel’s heart shriveled. “Mother’s here, darling.”

  “Your fight is with me,” Kent said. “Not an innocent babe.” He took in a deep breath. Morris, I know you. You’re not the kind of man to hurt a baby. Give the child back to his mother, and let’s you and I settle this with a duel.”

  Isabel glanced at Kent, his figure blurry through her tears. He was willing to fight Morris to save their child? Or was it only his ship he sought to regain?

  Morris shot Kent a smoldering gaze. “That’s been your error from the beginning. You don’t know what kind of man I am or you wouldn’t have considered me son’s life so frivolous.” He scanned the crowd as if giving a speech. “As I see it, he killed my son, so I will kill his. Johnny had a cruel death at sea, and so will his son.” Clutching Frederick’s gown, he dangled him farther over the murky waters. The nightdress tightened over Frederick’s small chest and pinched beneath his arms, eliciting another gut-wrenching wail.

  “Any last words for the little whelp?” Morris asked with a sneer.

  Terror clamped Isabel as tears blurred her vision. “No! No!” She held out a hand toward Frederick, unable to believe she was about to watch her son plummet to his death. “Please, please don’t.” She writhed against the pirate’s strong clasp. Her body convulsed in agony.

  “I have some words to say, Father.”

  All eyes shot to the source of the high-pitched voice bellowing from behind them. Hann hobbled onto the deck from the companionway stairs, her ardent stare focused upon Captain Morris.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Blood Is Thicker Than the Sea

  Kent watched his young quartermaster shuffle across the deck. He’d thought he heard him call Captain Morris Father, but that was not possible. Morris had only one son, and Kent had watched the boy die. Yet when Kent glanced back at Morris, the old pirate stood, frozen in place, confusion furrowing his brow.

  “What did you call me, lad?” Morris still held Frederick teetering over the water.

  The ships staggered upon a wave, sending one side of the plank tugging on its lashes and floating in midair before it clapped back to the railing. Isabel gasped, and Morris swayed and scuffed his boots against the wood to brace himself.

  Hann snagged his hat from his head and halted before the plank. Tilting his chin, he presented a full view of his face to Morris.

  “Annie?” Morris chuckled and drew Frederick back to his chest.

  Relief assuaged Kent’s rapid heartbeat. He faced Hann, or Anne, as he tried to make sense of the miracle that had momentarily saved his son. Over Hann’s shoulder, Isabel’s reddened eyes darted to his, hope sparkling within them.

  Morris shifted Frederick to his other hand as the boy began to whimper. “Faith, girl, whatever are you doing aboard this scallywag’s vessel? And egad, what have you done with your hair?”

  A volley of stunned gasps crashed over the pirates. “I know’d he was a girl all along,” Wolcott announced proudly.

  “Why, I’ll be a slimy toad,” exclaimed Smithy, scratching his thick sideburns.

  Catcalls flew at Hann from all directions, quickly silenced by a steady glare from Morris.

  Girl? Kent studied the boy who’d been on his ship for nigh six months now. With his hat removed, traces of femininity—his lashes, his lips, the graceful curve of his chin evident in the bright sun—taunted Kent’s stupidity. How could he have been so daft? And the daughter of his enemy? He’d trusted him—her.

  Hann flashed a placating glance at Kent before facing her father again. “Come down here with the child, and I’ll explain everything.”

  “I’m still your father, girl,” Morris bellowed. “I’ll not be taking orders from you.”

  Frederick bunched his fists into tiny red knots. His face swelled like a blowfish, and he let out a screeching wail.

  Isabel moaned, and Captain Morris grabbed the baby and held him away from him with both hands as if the child’s fit were contagious. Frederick continued screaming, stopping only to draw a breath for the next outburst. His glassy eyes landed on his mother, but no sooner did he recognize her than another deafening yowl erupted from his mouth.

  Pride swelled within Kent. His son had a good set of lungs and a fighting spirit. Oh God, let him live.

  Hann crinkled her nose. “Father, please. I beg you to talk to me before you do something you regret.”

  “I rarely do anything I regret,” Morris said, still holding the writhing baby at arm’s length. He gestured toward Kent. “And killing this murderer’s son will not be one of them. Are you forgetting your brother so soon?”

  “’Tis for my brother’s sake that I am here.” Hann cast a glance over her shoulder at Cutter, still held in place by the tip of a sword. His gaze widened upon her, filled more with concern than surprise.

  Kent struggled against the ropes binding his hands. He clamped his teeth as the coarse twine grated against his skin. Had Cutter known Hann was a lady all this time? Humiliated, Kent glared at his crew. How many of them had played him for a fool? He’d expected treachery from Sawkins, but not from Hann or Cutter—or Isabel. He studied her as she looked with yearning upon Frederick. If she’d known about Hann, it would certainly explain why the two of them had appeared so close.

  The sun whipped hot lashes over them from its throne in the sky, sending waves of heat curling up from the deck. A light breeze teased the flaccid sails into a flutter against the masts, drawing Morris’s attention upward.

  “Very well.” He cringed as Frederick, with arms and legs thrashing, let out another wail. “I can delay me plans for a moment. Besides, I must silence this brat or I fear I’ll throw meself into the sea just to gain a moment of peace.” He thundered over the plank and down onto the deck, tossing Frederick into Darla’s waiting arms. “I daresay I’ll enjoy prolonging your agony as well, Captain.” His petulant blue gaze flickered ov
er Kent.

  Gathering the child up in her arms, Darla rubbed his back and peered at Isabel across the deck. Frederick’s howling soon diminished to a whimper. He snuggled his face into Darla’s neck and grabbed a lock of her hair, his body still convulsing.

  Kent inched across the deck, hoping to move closer to his son, but two pirates blocked his way.

  “Explain yourself, girl, before me patience runs out.” Morris’s head twitched, but Kent detected no hostility in his gaze. If anything, he looked at his daughter as a loving parent would an unruly child.

  Sawkins’s red cheeks swelled with annoyance. He blew out a sigh, whipped off his neckerchief, and wiped the sweat from his brow. With chin aloft, he sneered at Hann.

  Isabel continued struggling against Murdock’s fast grip. Wayward locks of hair blew across her face as her pleading eyes shifted to Kent’s. He would do anything to answer the desperate call for help shooting from within them. But how could he, bound, helpless, and outnumbered? Continuing his battle with the ropes on his wrists, he studied his crew. Most appeared no happier than he was with the change in command. If he could just free himself.

  Hann shifted her stance and pressed a hand to her side. “I came aboard Captain Carlton’s ship to kill him”—she bit her lip and glanced at Kent—“to avenge Johnny’s death.”

  The statement sped through Kent, causing both pain and anger. He’d taken the boy—girl—under his wing, protected her, trusted her. If she’d truly sought to kill him, she’d had many opportunities to do so. He glanced toward Isabel. By the shocked look on her face, at least she’d not been privy to the plot—a token that brought Kent a smidgen of comfort amidst the deception rising around him.

  “Ah, finally something sensible from your lips, Hann, or should I say Annie.” Sawkins glowered. “I daresay, I did think you were too effeminate for a boy.”

  “Still your tongue, man,” Morris snapped, jerking his head toward Sawkins. He faced Hann again. “If your intent was to kill him, then why, pray tell, do I see Captain Carlton standing here, unscathed and ever the insidious bore?”