“You’ll go either way, ’tis no matter to me whether you’re quiet.” Morris scratched his chin and gave her a curt smile. “But never you fear, I’ll let Kent live. And ’tis a long life I’ll be wishing for him, a life filled with the agony of what he’s done to you and his son.”
Murato yanked on her arm again. He shouted something to his companions and turned to start down the path.
“Isabel!” Kent yelled and one of Morris’s men slammed a boot onto his head, forcing it into the dirt. The last thing Isabel saw was Kent’s distraught gaze as he raised his head from the ground to watch her leave.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Restitution
Wait,” Kent shouted. “Tell him to wait!” He threw a demanding look at Morris, who crossed his brawny arms over his chest and smirked.
“Take me,” Kent said.
“What did you say?” Morris cupped a hand around his injured ear. “I don’t think I heard you.”
“Myself instead of her and the babe,” Kent panted, writhing in the pirates’ clutches. He’d uttered the words without thinking but knew no amount of thought or time would alter his decision.
Morris bent over in a loud chortle that shook his belly. “Why I’ll be a half-masted monkey. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Jerking himself free from one pirate, Kent kicked the next one, sending the man tumbling to the ground several feet away, and then slugged the third pirate with his free hand. The forth man lunged on top of Kent, grinding his face into the dirt.
“Blast! Can’t the four of you hold down one man? Let him up.” Morris said, shaking his head. “He’s not going anywhere.”
The pirate on top of Kent hastily complied. Another pirate dabbed at the blood spilling from his mouth.
Morris shouted and Murato stopped and turned around, pulling Isabel with him. Tears streamed down her face.
“’Tis me you want,” Kent said, rising to his feet. “I’ll suffer for Johnny’s death. They’ve done naught to deserve such a fate.” He glanced at Isabel. A flicker of surprise, then fear crossed her gaze. Frederick, still crying, grabbed one of her auburn curls and brought it to his mouth.
“At last some sense to be had.” Sawkins chimed in.
“No, Cap’n,” Sparks said, adjusting his eye patch.
“Am I to be understanding that the great Captain Carlton is giving up his ship, his treasure, and his very life for a mere woman and a babe?” Morris scratched his coarse hair. “And what’s to stop me from selling you both?”
Cutter took a step forward, eyes wide with alarm, yet he said nothing.
Hann stormed toward Morris. “You wouldn’t, Father!”
Yet Kent wondered. He didn’t doubt the depth this father would sink to ease the pain of his son’s death. Yet Kent had known Captain Morris before the accident. He had been a good man. “I appeal to your honor, sir.” Kent prayed his words sped to any decent part of Morris that still remained.
“Me honor, is it? Egad. I’m afraid what little I had sunk to the depths along with my son.” Morris planted his fists on his hips. “Tis a noble sacrifice, I’ll admit.” He narrowed his eyes upon Kent. “And one which I never thought to hear from the likes of you. But now I know how much you care for the wench and her son. And though ’twould certainly be a more fitting punishment for you to know they are suffering in your stead, I’m not a man without some shred of compassion. I’ll see if Murato would consider taking you instead—that is as long as you’ll go willingly?”
Kent swallowed. His glance swept over Cutter, Hann, Hoornes, and Sparks. The looks in their eyes told him not to go through with it. Could he give up everything he’d worked so hard to achieve, even for Isabel? Even for their son? His stomach churned.
He turned to Murato, who stood waiting, still holding Isabel’s arm, his features like stone. Could he submit to this savage’s authority and become a slave the rest of his life, stripped of all his power, weak just like his father had always told him he was?
Kent’s gaze landed on Isabel. Was she crying for him or out of fear for herself and Frederick? Yet, hadn’t she allowed him to kiss her? Hadn’t he seen affection in her eyes? It didn’t matter. He would give up everything to save her whether she returned his love or not. He sighed, longing to hear from God. Suddenly the futility of all the things he’d valued flashed before him—the power, the wealth, the success. He raised a determined gaze to Morris. “I give my word I will offer him no resistance. I will do as he commands the rest of my days.”
“No!” Isabel struggled in Murato’s grip, sobbing. “No, Kent. You mustn’t.”
Hann moved beside her father. “This has gone far enough!”
“I think it’s a fine idea,” Sawkins interjected.
“No one asked you, you ignorant carp.” Hann shot him a fierce look.
Sawkins raised his chin, his sweaty face swelling. He stood beside Akers, who leaned against a tree, eyes half closed in boredom.
Morris spoke to Murato. The Indian turned and conversed with his friends, then answered him.
Abruptly, Morris cocked his head toward Kent. “He says he’ll take you instead of the woman. He has too many wives anyway.”
Murato released Isabel, and she dashed toward Kent. “I won’t let you do this.”
“You have no choice, milady.” Kent gazed into her eyes, thrilled by the love pouring from them. He brushed a finger over her cheek, and she leaned her face into his hand. Frederick looked up at him, and Kent kissed the top of his head, drawing in the scent of him—his son. He felt as though his heart would burst. Wrapping an arm around Isabel, he drew her near. ’Tis so unfair, God. Just when I have her heart, I must lose her.
Morris’s face wrinkled in confusion as he watched Kent and Isabel. He turned and spit onto the dirt with a grunt. “If you try anything, Carlton, I’ll change me mind, and she and the babe will join you in your slavery.”
Kent nodded. “Tell Murato he has my word.”
Before Morris could relay the message, the Indian glanced at Sawkins and uttered a string of choppy words, sending Morris into a loud chortle. “He says he’ll take the pretty man too,” he said between guffaws. The pirates joined in his laughter.
Sawkins lengthened his stance, a look of horror mangling his features. “Of all the…I will not go with that savage!”
“Well, I say ’tis a fitting end for a coward like you.” Morris sputtered. “Faith, why didn’t I think of it before—a very fitting end, indeed.”
Hann nodded her approval. “Aye, give him Sawkins instead of the Captain.”
Sawkins scowled at Hann, then shifted his alarmed gaze over the camp, and then to Morris. “You are the coward, sir. A man who does not honor his word.” He grimaced. “I will have my revenge.”
“And yet.” Morris grinned. “I don’t see how.”
Kent flexed his jaw. The fate that awaited him was bad enough, but to have Sawkins join him would be a living hell. He caressed Isabel’s arm, already missing the soft feel of her skin. Her intoxicating scent of vanilla and coconut swirled around his nose. These were the last moments he would ever spend with her and Frederick. Agony weighed heavy upon him.
Morris turned and spoke to Murato, who then relayed orders to his men. Two of them started toward Sawkins.
In a flash, Sawkins yanked a cutlass and pistol from Akers, and then thrust his boot into the pirate’s stomach, knocking him into a thicket of greenery. The other pirates fumbled to retrieve their weapons as Sawkins rushed toward Morris, screaming, “I demand you release me at once!”
The natives grabbed spears and started toward Sawkins, but one gesture from their chief froze them in their tracks.
Kent eased Isabel and Frederick behind him.
Caught off guard, Morris stumbled backward, recoiling from the advance, and frantically searched for his weapons. Sawkins’s charge came too fast. He aimed for Morris’s heart. But the captain shifted at the last moment, and Sawkins’s blade thrust into Morris’s shoulder.
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He withdrew it in a spurt of blood. Hann screamed. Cutter grabbed her as she started toward her father.
Morris’s men drew pistols and leveled them upon Sawkins.
Kent grabbed Isabel’s hand, keeping his eyes on the Indians around them. The chief shot up from his seat and glared at Sawkins. At any minute, he could order his warriors down upon them all. Kent’s thoughts sped through a myriad of outcomes and how he could best protect Isabel and Frederick. It all depended on how Sawkins’s foolhardy attack played out. Hope surged within him. Perhaps this was God’s way of getting rid of both Sawkins and Morris.
Morris stumbled to the dirt, clutching his shoulder. Blood oozed between his fingers. “I’ll have your innards for breakfast! Kill him, men.”
Lowering his bloody sword, Sawkins cocked his pistol, pointed it at Morris’s head, and glanced over the pirates and natives now heading his way. “I’ll shoot him if you dare come any closer.” He glared at Morris. “Tell your savages that I will shoot you if they so much as move a muscle,” he ordered, sweat beading on his brow.
Morris turned and spoke to the chief, then barked something to Murato. Natives and pirates alike froze in place
“Milady.” Sawkins shifted his pleading gaze to Isabel as she stepped out from behind Kent. “I’ve done this for you. Come with me now. My offer still stands.” His gaze flashed to Kent and back to her. “Let the man who ravished you go to the fate he deserves. Do what is best for Frederick.”
Kent eyed Sawkins. Was he jesting? Did he still hope to win Isabel? He glanced at her. A furrow creased her delicate brow. She bit her lip, hesitating. Alarm sent his heart racing as doubt filled him. Perhaps he had misread her feelings toward him. She had, after all, agreed to marry Sawkins once. Why wouldn’t she do it again?
“What life can you possibly hope for now?” Sawkins continued. “The boy will grow up poor and starving, the illegitimate child of a pirate—of a slave. Is that what you want for your son?”
Frederick released his mother’s hair and reached a chubby hand out toward Kent. Kent’s heart melted within him. Truly he wanted the best for his son. But not with Sawkins. Not him, Lord.
Isabel’s moist eyes lowered to Frederick, and fear consumed Kent. What would happen to her now with Kent enslaved and no family left to care for her? How would she survive? How would she provide for Frederick? He knew she must be pondering the same things. Sawkins would be her best choice.
And God forgive him, Kent hated his brother for it.
Isabel wove her free arm through Kent’s and raised her tiny nose in the air. “Your wealth and title no longer hold any attraction for me, milord. Neither—I have come to realize—do they make a man.” She shifted her brimming eyes to Kent. “I would rather raise my son in poverty or slavery with this pirate than”—she glared back at Sawkins—“in riches with you.”
Kent’s heart exploded within him. “You cannot. You would?”
“Aye, Captain.” She smiled, and Kent swallowed a burst of emotion that threatened to moisten his eyes in front of the men.
Sawkins’s lip quivered. His blue eyes turned to ice. “I see. Then you’re as big a fool as my brother is.” He swung the pistol to Kent’s chest, still holding the bloody sword in his other hand. “I would rather see you dead, Brother, than have you best me again.” His regal nostrils flared as his finger twitched on the trigger.
Yanking from Cutter’s grasp, Hann dashed toward Sawkins, cutlass in hand. “Stand down, you fool!”
Cutter jerked into action and sped behind her, Hoornes and Sparks quick on his heels.
Morris, still holding his bloody shoulder, watched with wide eyes as his daughter threw herself in front of Kent, held her palm up to the barrel of Sawkins’s loaded pistol and leveled the tip of her sword at his belly.
Kent grabbed her from behind. “No, Hann.” He tried to shove her aside just as Sawkins drove his cutlass toward her.
Cutter lunged into the path of the blade. He shoved Hann out of Kent’s grasp and grabbed the sword from her hand. He started to wield it, but it was too late. The full force of Sawkins’s cutlass thrust into his side.
Isabel gasped and Frederick broke into a wail. Shooting one glance over his shoulder to ensure Isabel was safe, Kent headed toward his injured friend. But before he could reach him, Cutter twirled around in a fit of rage and sliced Sawkins across the face. Then, coughing, the doctor gripped his side and folded to the ground.
“No!” Hann crawled beside him, grabbing his shoulders.
Screaming, Sawkins dropped the sword and pistol and flung his hands to his face.
“What have you done?” He lowered his fingers and moaned at the blood covering them. A deep gash ran from his forehead down the bridge of his nose, split his mustache, and sliced through his lips. “You’ve scarred me.” He stared aghast at Cutter. “You’ve made me like you.” His chest heaved. Alarm tightened his features. Then he spun around and darted across camp, weaving around pirates and Indians before he plunged into the jungle. Within seconds, the green web swallowed him up.
Clutching his shoulder, Morris labored to his feet, spouted something to Murato, and jerked his head toward the forest.
The Indian gestured toward Kent and replied in an angry tone.
Morris shook his head and again pointed toward where Sawkins had disappeared. He said something else and picked up Sawkins’s pistol laying on the ground, then motioned with it toward the other weapons in his pirates’ hands and baldrics. Hope began to climb back into Kent’s heart.
Finally Murato nodded, hefted his spear, and sped into the jungle, his men following.
“Hand me a cloth, you fool,” Morris yelled at Akers, who sheepishly grabbed a rag from his pack and approached. “’Tis your lazy fault all of this happened.” Pursing his lips, Akers handed his captain the brown cloth.
Morris pressed it on his wound, then glanced down at Cutter. “You saved me daughter’s life,” he stated as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d seen.
“I love her.” Cutter faced Hann sitting beside him. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Never fear.” He pressed the bloody gash on his side. “I’ve survived worse wounds than this.” He grinned. Hann grabbed his face and brought his gnarled lips to hers.
The pirates whistled, and Morris grunted and looked away.
“What did you tell Murato?” Kent asked Morris as he squeezed Isabel’s hand and brought her beside him. Her quivering, moist palm gripped his in a tight embrace. Whatever it was, it had sent the savage away, and that, coupled with Morris’s jovial attitude, further bolstered Kent’s hope.
Morris pushed his saturated hair from his forehead and sighed. “I told him he could have Sawkins if he could catch him—which I’m sure he will—and all our weapons when he returns. It seemed a fair exchange to him instead of the likes of you.” He spit to the side and winced. “I believe he thinks you’ll give him more trouble than you’re worth. And speaking for meself, I’ve found that to be true.”
Releasing Kent’s hand, Isabel rushed to Morris’s side. “Thank you, Captain. I knew you were an honorable man.” She laid a hand on his arm. Frederick smiled up at him, revealing three baby teeth.
A red hue rose upon Morris’s cheeks, and he swatted her away. “Enough of that, girl.”
Kent could hardly believe the scene unfolding before him. They no longer were being sold as slaves? A moment ago, he would have thought that impossible. God truly was almighty.
Beaming, Isabel moved beside him and handed Frederick to him. Clutching his son, he pressed him against his chest and gave Morris a perplexed look.
Sorrow spilled from the old captain’s eyes, but a look of understanding passed between them.
“Johnny is dead,” Morris said matter-of-factly. “No matter whether you had a part in his death, I cannot change that, nor—I have come to realize—could I have prevented it, just as I cannot have stopped me daughter here from falling for some mangled doctor.” He laughed, and Hann looked at him with pla
yful scorn.
“Then are we free to go?” Kent asked, uneasy at the sudden turn of events.
“Aye.” Morris tilted his head toward the jungle. “And ye best be goin’ before I change me mind.” His pained gaze landed on Hann. “Take me daughter too. She done well on your ship, and I don’t want her sailin’ under me debased influence.”
Hann sprang to her feet and clutched Morris’s good arm. “Father, surely you aren’t staying here. Let us help you get back to your ship.”
“Quit your fussing, girl. I’ll be all right.” He tugged from her grasp, annoyance twisting his features. But then his face softened and a slow smile formed on his lips. “But I wouldn’t be mindin’ your company along the way.”
Hann cast a worried look toward Cutter.
Following her gaze, Morris snorted. “Patch ‘im up. You can bring him along, if you must.”
The warm Caribbean sun spilled over Isabel as she sat on the shore, its rays kissing the sea and setting the water aglow like sparkling diamonds. Frederick sat beside her, playfully swatting at the turquoise waves that teased his chubby bare legs. His giggle was music to her ears. She plunged her feet into the golden sand and closed her eyes as the grains folded around them like a warm blanket. A bird squawked above her as the breeze danced through the palm fronds, setting them aflutter.
Kent’s strong arms wrapped around her from behind. His warm breath caressed her ear. “I love you, Isabel.”
A tingle ran through her, igniting sensations she’d never felt before, and she leaned back onto his firm, broad chest. Turning her head, she met his lips. Hot and strong, they devoured her like a man deprived of food for months. Her breath came heavy, and she pulled away and stared into his brown eyes. Tiny flecks of gold shone from within them. No longer did bitterness, lust, or pride rage in their depths. “What a miracle the Lord has wrought in you.”
“So does that mean you forgive me?” One side of his mouth curled upward.
Smirking, Isabel faced the sea. “I haven’t quite decided yet.” She grinned mischievously.
The Restitution Page 36