by Pamela Clare
And in the courtroom … She’d stood up to the governor, bravely taking the stand and declaring her faith in Alec in no uncertain terms. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his passion for her had deepened, though he hadn’t held her in his arms in more than two months.
“What think you of being a father?” The sound of Alec’s voice startled the silence.
“So that’s what you’re thinking about,” Carter said with a chuckle, which quickly became a deep cough. “It’s a great thing, though I must say I didn’t think much of it at first. All that crying, those foul smells. But I came to enjoy it. I’ve been a better father to my children by Betty than I was to those Judith bore me. As with most things, one improves with practice.”
Alec had gleaned that Judith was Carter’s first wife and Betty his second. Only seventeen when she’d married him, Betty had died at age thirty-six, weakened by the birth of their sixth child, leaving her husband a widower for the second time—and the father of ten. And for the first time all day, Alec tasted fear. What if Cassie, too, were taken ill? What if she died in childbed? It was something he’d not considered until now, and the thought that she might perish to birth his child sickened him. He remembered well what Rebecca had endured. Would Cassie die? No, that could not happen. He would not let it. Cassie was strong and healthy, braver and more stubborn than any woman he had ever known. She’d survive. He’d do everything in his power to make sure she survived. He’d hire the best physician. Hell, he’d hire a team of physicians. Best not to think of such things now, Alec told himself, determined to brush the worry from his mind. His first task was to make sure Cassie had a husband, their baby a father.
“God forbid you have daughters,” Carter said.
“Why do you say that?”
“If they’re anything like their mother, you’ll have to keep them under lock and key.”
Alec couldn’t help laughing.
The two men rode onward, the silence interrupted only by occasional fits of coughing. Alec began to worry that Carter was truly ill, though the man had yet to complain. Perhaps Takotah could brew one of her frightful potions and ease his breathing. Ahead in the dark, the trees thinned, and beneath the horses hooves, mud gave way to sand. A shape moved in the darkness—a man holding a musket.
“We’re here.”
* * *
Matthew peered through the darkness, watching the young woman who would soon become his sister-in-law. Easily the best rider among them, she sat a horse as if she’d been born to it, her motions blending effortlessly with those of the mare beneath her. Riding slightly ahead of them all, her relentless pace challenging them to keep up, she seemed certain of her direction despite the darkness. If she was tired or cold, she certainly didn’t show it.
“I should like to wait until dawn,” Governor Gooch said.
“If we do, we’ll lose him,” she called back over her shoulder. “He’ll have left by first light.”
“But surely we’ll lose our way in the dark.”
“Not if you stick with me.”
Matthew admired Miss Blakewell’s spirit and had grown surprisingly fond of her already. He should have known Alec would fall in love with such a woman. Brave and determined, she was also quite pretty in her own way, and intelligent, too. She was precisely the breath of fresh air Alec needed, not at all the type of grasping, shallow creature he’d met far too often in the ballrooms of London. Though Matthew had not yet had time to hear the entire story of how she and Alec had come together, he knew from his conversation with Governor Gooch that Cassie had braved dishonor and worse by testifying at Alec’s trial. As far as Matthew was concerned, her devotion to Alec made her a jewel beyond price.
She had insisted they leave Williamsburg last night as soon as she’d regained her breath, ignoring those who’d wanted to wait until morning before setting out. Men with dogs were still tracking Alec, she argued, and, until they found him, both his life and Robert Carter’s were in danger. Her logic had prevailed. Their small party had sailed north to her father’s estate, where, after a brief reunion with servants who obviously adored their mistress, they’d set out on horseback.
Their little company was as odd a mixture of people as Matthew had ever seen. Beside him rode the governor and two sheriffs, one called Hollingsworth, who was as big around as a tree, and one called Connelly, who, though young and energetic, was none too bright. Behind them followed the two young Carter lads, Charles and Landon, both full of restlessness and vigor. Beside them rode two men with fresh black eyes, a bondsman Miss Blakewell called Zach and a big slave named Luke. Matthew was grateful for the presence of the latter two, as they’d made it abundantly clear they did not trust anyone with the safekeeping of their mistress and would keep a close eye on them all. There were the governor’s hired hands as well, each armed, bringing their number to just over a dozen.
It was not yet dawn. Hardly a star shone in the cold, dark sky. Already they’d followed Miss Blakewell over fields and through a forest, and now she was leading them into what seemed to be a thickly wooded marsh. Towering conifers stretched into the darkness above their heads, their roots a tangle in the muddy, knee-deep water below. Slick mud, dead branches, and vegetation tangled to slow the horses as they fought for footing. But the terrain hadn’t hindered her progress. Matthew realized she had ridden this way many times before and knew every tree trunk and branch by heart. Twice now she’d had to stop to allow the rest of them to catch up with her.
“Where on earth is she taking us?” muttered the governor.
“To hell, I’d warrant,” grumbled Sheriff Hollingsworth.
“It’s not far now,” Miss Blakewell assured them, circling back from the darkness to rejoin them.
Elizabeth would adore her, Matthew thought with satisfaction. Lord, how he missed his wife and children. It had been more than six weeks since he’d last seen them. He hadn’t explained to Elizabeth his reason for coming here, not wanting to raise her hopes. He’d told her only that it had to do with bringing Alec’s killers to justice, though he himself had been all but certain that he’d find Alec alive. The letter that the magistrate at Newgate had shown him, together with the mysterious letter that Philip had intercepted and burned, had convinced Matthew that Alec had been spirited to the colonies against his will, and that Philip was somehow behind it.
When Matthew confronted Philip in private, he had at first denied knowing anything about the letters. But when faced with the signed missive he’d sent to Newgate, Philip had reacted like a cornered man, confessing nothing, but vowing to kill Matthew. Fortunately, he hadn’t had time to make good on his threats, as the justice of the peace arrived shortly thereafter to arrest him on the grim charge of conspiracy. When he finally did confess, sick and trembling for lack of drink, the horror of what he’d said had left Matthew shaken. He’d never intended for Alec to be kidnapped, he’d said, laughing. He’d meant him to die. That was what he’d paid the men to do. But they had double-crossed him—and doubled their profits—by selling Alec to a sea captain who’d found himself with a useless corpse instead of a full cargo. They’d paid the ultimate price for their betrayal, for as soon as Philip had discovered their treachery, he’d ordered them killed, as well.
How would Matthew tell Alec about Philip? Telling him he had been betrayed was the one part of this trip that Matthew had been dreading. Elizabeth hadn’t taken the news well. As far as she knew, she’d already lost one brother. Losing the other had been devastating for her.
Matthew put his worries aside and looked ahead through the trees to where the sky had begun to lighten. The forest thinned. He felt his horse’s step grow steadier. They were now riding on more solid ground. Peering through the ghostly half-light, Matthew thought he saw some kind of clearing.
“The sun is almost up,” said Miss Blakewell. “We must hurry.”
* * *
Alec slipped on his boots, eager to get under way. As promised, Takotah had awakened them before first light, l
eaving steaming mugs of tea and breakfasts of cornmeal mush on the roughened table. Nearby, Carter lapsed into another fit of coughing. It had been a restless night for all of them, but especially for Carter, who to his credit, had not complained. Takotah had given him one her concoctions to help his breathing and relieve the ache in his stiff limbs, and Alec knew he had gotten at least some sleep. As if on cue, Takotah appeared through the door of the little cabin with another steaming mug, which Carter accepted with grateful nod, wrinkling his nose at the smell.
“This just might cure me if it doesn’t kill me first.”
“You think that’s bad.” Alec grinned. “You should taste what she gave me.”
Accustomed to being teased about her potions, Takotah smiled back, the tattoos on her weathered face seeming to come alive. “It is good to have you home.”
Home. Alec liked the sound of that. But he wasn’t home yet. Home was still a month-long voyage away—if he managed to survive the next few days.
He poured water from a pitcher into the washbasin and splashed it over his face, grateful for its bracing chill. How strange it had been to arrive here in the dark of night. Micah had emerged like a ghost from the shadows and had seen to their horses. Takotah had ushered them indoors by the fire, where a warm meal awaited them. Never had a simple stew tasted so good, nor a bed felt so soft. Having spent many long weeks sleeping in straw on a dirty, wooden floor, Alec was sure he could have slept on stone.
Best of all had been seeing Jamie again. The boy had been kept away until the meal was finished so as not to disturb them. But as soon as the empty bowls had been cleared, he’d come bounding through the door, Pirate at his heels. The pup had almost reached its full size, and Alec had found himself juggling a lapful of wiggling boy and overgrown puppy.
“Tell me how you saved Cassie from the bad man,” Jamie had demanded, throwing his arms around Alec’s neck and giving him a big hug.
“That’s a long story, Jamie.”
“Where is she? When do I get to see her?”
Alec had seen that these weeks away from his sister had been hard on the child. How he’d wished he’d been able to walk through the door with Cassie in hand, and end this nightmare for all of them. But he hadn’t. She was little better than a prisoner in Williamsburg, and the only way he could help her was by leaving her far behind and returning to England. How could he explain that to a child?
“Cassie is safe in Williamsburg now,” Alec had told him. “She’s staying at Master Carter’s home. Do you remember him?”
Jamie had glanced over at Carter and nodded. “She isn’t coming here?”
“Not yet, tadpole. But I hope to bring her to you before spring comes.”
That would seem an eternity to a child.
“There’s no reason for the boy to remain out here, now, is there?” Carter had asked. “Under my roof he’d be in no danger. When you set sail he can come home with me—his father, too, for that matter. Would you like that, boy?”
“Would I get to be with Cassie, and can Pirate come, too?”
Carter eyed the dog with suspicion. “I’m sure you can all find lots of ways to cause trouble and disrupt my household, heaven forbid.”
“Can I?” Jamie had looked at Alec pleadingly.
“Aye, tadpole, I don’t see why not,” Alec had shared a smile with Takotah.
That had been enough to bring the light back into the child’s eyes.
“Does he know we’re here?” Carter had finally asked, looking at Abraham Blakewell, who sat silently rocking in the corner, staring at nothing.
Alec had looked to Takotah for an answer.
“No.”
“Poor fellow. He was a good man.”
Alec had tucked Jamie into bed after supper, recounting once again the story of Blackbeard, until the boy had drifted off to sleep.
He would have liked to bid Jamie farewell this morning, but it was far too early to wake him, and it was essential that nothing slow them down. Supplies had been stowed on board the vessel waiting for them at the river. Its crew was awake and ready to cast off.
Alec drank his tea in several gulps, its warmth spreading into his limbs, and quickly ate his cornmeal mush. Flavored with bits of bacon instead of weevils, it was a far sight better than the mush he’d been served in gaol.
Carter was moving slowly, and Alec began to worry that he would delay their journey.
“Don’t worry about me,” the older man said as if reading his thoughts. “By the time you’re ready, I’ll be one step ahead of you.”
The land baron was true to his word. By the time Alec had finished saddling the horses, Carter was standing outside the cabin, ready for the second day of his grand adventure. From the smile on his round face, it looked as if he were heading off for a day of hunting. “I’ve never felt better,” he said with a robust grin.
The two were about to mount for their ride to the river when Micah dashed toward them, musket in hand.
“At least seven men,” he said, worry heavy on his dark brow. “I couldn’t see them all, but old Master Crichton is with them, and they’re armed.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Alec felt a surge of energy. How in the hell had they found them this quickly?
“Can we outrun them?” He checked the loaded pistol he’d tucked into his belt.
Micah shook his head.
“Take Takotah and Jamie and hide in the marsh. Don’t come out until it’s over, no matter what happens.”
Micah nodded and was gone.
Alec heard voices, the dull thud of horse hooves on loam as the riders came out of the marsh and onto dry land. They must have traveled north by river and then tracked him all night. It was as if they had known just where he was headed. He’d vastly underestimated the governor’s determination to see him hanged.
“Here’s where the excitement begins,” he whispered.
“Things were beginning to grow a bit dull,” Carter muttered.
Reaching down to remove a knife from his boot, Alec slipped the blade into the waistband of his breeches.
From the sound of things, the riders had dismounted and were walking stealthily toward the cabin. It was now or never. “Are you ready?”
“Aye.”
Alec wrapped his arm around Carter’s throat and pressed the pistol to his temple. His senses heightened, he stepped out into the clearing.
“Back off, or Carter dies!”
“Don’t shoot!” Carter choked out. “Do as he says!”
Seven men, including the senior Master Crichton and the old Scot, Henry, stopped in their tracks, visibly startled.
The elder Crichton glared at them, his hatred palpable. “I knew I’d find you here, convict. When he heard you’d escaped, Henry told me about the time he’d followed you here. He said he’d been trying for weeks to find this place for my fool of a son. If Geoffrey had told me what he was doing, you’d be dead already. I visited this island several times with Blakewell long ago when he was still sane. Took me a while to find it again, but find it I did. And just in time.”
“Congratulations. But now that you’ve found me, you’re going to turn right back around and ride out of here, or Carter will be only the first to die.”
“Listen to him!” Carter pleaded, acting every bit as though he were terrified.
“I see your generosity has come back to haunt you, Robert.”
Crichton motioned to one of his men, who handed him a musket. “You thought you could humiliate me by defending the man who murdered my son, but you’re going to pay for that now. Which of you should I aim for first?”
“You bastard! How dare you?” Carter’s mock fear was transformed into genuine fury. “That’s murder!”
Alec suddenly found himself struggling to hold Carter back, one arm still wrapped around the land baron’s throat.
“Aye, but who’s to say that the convict didn’t kill you before we killed him?”
As Crichton lifted the musket and began to
take aim, Alec pressed the pistol into Carter’s surprised hands and used both arms to thrust him to the side, where he fell to the ground in a cursing heap. At least now Carter would be able to defend himself.
“There’s no need for you to kill him. It’s really me you want, Crichton.”
“There’s no need to kill anyone!” The boom of Governor Gooch’s voice filled the clearing as the governor himself rode into view beside …
“Cassie?”
“Alec!”
“What’s this?” Crichton’s musket still pointed at Alec’s chest.
The governor dismounted, strode over to Crichton, and yanked the firearm from his hands. “There’ll be no killing here this morning. This man was telling the truth.”
Alec scarcely heard the bitter cursing that gushed from Crichton’s mouth. What had the governor said?
This man was telling the truth.
Cassie had dismounted and was running toward him, calling his name, her arms outstretched.
He swept her into his embrace, crushing her against him, overwhelmed by a rush of fierce emotion. “Cassie!”
“Don’t I even get a handshake?”
“Matthew?” Blood rushed to Alec’s head. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Surely this was a dream.
“Alec, it’s over,” he heard Cassie say.
Cassie watched as recognition dawned on Alec’s face.
For a moment he neither spoke nor moved. “My God, is it really you?”
“Aye. It’s good to see you, too, Alec.”
Hot tears coursing down her cheeks, she watched as the two men grasped one another in a fierce embrace.
“Thank God you’re alive!” the lieutenant whispered, his voice strained. “We thought we’d lost you.”