The Last Broken Promise

by Grace Walton

  Jess loved this part of sailing. There was a wild freedom to it that appealed to her soul. The beauty made tears well in her eyes and made her throat tighten. Surely, seeing this, even the most hardened heart must acknowledge God in all His power and majesty. Who else could make the sea and set the stars in the night sky?

  She knew this was why her brothers never stayed long on land. Even now, she wondered why Dylan had given up his own ship to run the shipping business out of their new Savannah office. What could have made him leave the water and stay in Georgia, a place he despised for its hypocrisy, slavery, and old-money aristocracy? Something far beyond riches and position, she’d wager, for none of that seemed to matter to her urbane oldest brother. Even now, as the Duke of MacAllister, he cared little for wealth and status. His had been a restless roaming existence. He’d never seemed at peace. Until he’d met his sweet wife, Rory.

  Dylan was nothing like Connor. Connor was the laughing, reckless one who was forever falling into scrapes and then extricating himself by any means, fair or foul. He was like a cat that always landed on its feet. But it was Griffin who truly had her heart. They were close in age and had both been raised by Aunt Dorcas and Uncle Josiah.

  Connor and Dylan were raised as fine gentlemen by their exalted uncle in England. They had only come back to Virginia once their schooling was completed. But the former Duke of MacAllister, nasty old man, hadn’t wanted the two younger children at all. So she and Griffin were forced to stay in Virginia. Griffin, she fondly thought of him as she drew the heavy cloak closer to her throat. He would appreciate this night, so clear and cold and tremendously lovely. No one knew why he’d taken those letters of marque the President’s Secretary of War had offered him. Now, her wonderful tormented brother was a pirate. Griffin was a legal one, it’s true. But he was a pirate all the same. She’d not seen or heard from him in more than two years. Perhaps that was a blessing, she pondered as she trailed a falling star through its course across the black sky. Though she loved them all fiercely, he was the only one of her brothers who could have kept her from the convent and its monastic life.

  The seductive sway of the ship and the lullaby of its creaking sails quieted her spirit. The air was heavy and salty. It seemed to purify everything around it with its scent. In the solitary serenity of this place, she knew she could fulfill the task Mother Marguerite Marie had set before her. Somehow, some way, God would help her do this thing. This frightening thing. She had to keep her word or people all over the American frontier would die. People who had no interest in politics. Who only wanted to make a decent life for their families. Innocent people who didn’t know or care that foreign powers were striving for possession of territories in their adolescent land. Because of them, she would find Arthur Bassett. She would give him all the information that had been entrusted to her. Because of them, she’d left her own dreams behind in Virginia. She’d decided to hold fast to the Mother Superior’s letter for Finn. What he didn’t know, he’d not be held liable for.

  She felt, rather than heard, the slow steps coming up behind her. Preparing herself to flee, she turned. It was like her awful nightmare. A man was stalking her. He wore a cloak with the hood covering his face. And she could tell by his small stature, he wasn’t McLeod. At this point, she wished it was the captain. He, at least, wouldn’t hurt her. She knew this without a shadow of a doubt. McLeod would never hurt her. He might infuriate her. But he’d never physically hurt her. All those dire warnings he’d given her about the sailors. And what they might do to her, if they got the chance, came flooding back to her mind. So, she anticipated that this man might attack her. He might just be her seeking solitude. But he might harm her because he wasn’t McLeod.

  The man edged his way along the railing was also not a true sailor. He was hard pressed to keep his balance on the rolling deck. He moved cautiously, but with no call of welcome. Perhaps he was afraid to speak. So Jess spoke first.

  “Good evening, sir,” she offered in a quiet polite voice.

  The man didn’t answer. He just kept moving ominously forward. Jess felt a skitter of fear. This sailor was not out to stroll and take the air. “Excuse me, sir,” she murmured as she hurried to pass by him.

  A punishing hand shot out. It grabbed her arm as she got near him. Jess was frightened. But she didn’t lose her head. First, she would try all the tricks her brothers had taught her. She tried to slam the heel of her free hand into his nose. The man just laughed at her efforts and captured her fingers. Now he had both of her hands trapped.

  Jess’s mind wanted to spin out of control, but she took a deep breath and fought to stay calm. She knew she was lost if she didn’t stay calm. She twisted her body to prepare to jam her knee up between his legs. The man somehow knew what she was planning. He threw his weight violently to one side. She was thrown down to the deck.

  A searing pain shot through her arm as she tumbled to the rough boards. Jess was trembling and thinking, furiously thinking, of what to do next. What could she do to save her life? And why was this madman trying to kill her? Then she remembered some advice Griffin had given her two years ago. He’d said, sometimes all you could do was scream. So she tried to scream with all her might.

  But the man sensed her intent. He gripped her throat with both hands. He was going to choke her to death. The only sounds she could produce were wheezings and pitiful whimpers. And the worst part was, she couldn’t see his face. It was hidden by the hood of his cloak. Some madman was killing her and she didn’t know why or who he was. Jess tried struggling and kicking. After a few seconds with no breath, she couldn’t seem to fight anymore.

  And then it didn’t seem to matter. She was dying. Nothing seemed to matter. Jess felt as if she was watching her own murder from a long distance away. She felt detached, almost peaceful. And as her lungs stopped burning and her vision turned completely dark, she realized she only had a few regrets about leaving this world. One of them was that she’d never kissed Finn McLeod. But oddly enough, she didn’t regret not becoming a nun. No, she didn’t regret that at all. Then she knew nothingness. Beautiful, peaceful nothingness.

  “Jess!” Dorcas called.

  He was about to finish the girl, when he heard the old woman shouting. His hands loosened their hold in reaction. The girl gasped involuntarily. The attacker had to make a decision and quickly. Should he stay and kill her or should he run before the old hag raised the entire ship? His employer liked jobs done well. No witnesses, no one to tell tales. But even though the man feared the one who paid him, he was also a pragmatist. There would be other chances to kill the girl. She’d proven herself to be an easy target. Better to wait. He grinned in anticipation. Perhaps next time he’d have the opportunity to play with her. He did love to see the terror in a victim’s face right before he finished them off.

  The chit was gulping air and seemed to be rousing. As her eyes fluttered open, he decided to give her something to worry about. He leaned close and hissed in her ear.

  “Maitland sends his regards,” He shoved her roughly under a mended sail that had been left on deck. Then he was gone.

  “Jess?” Dorcas was getting frantic. Where could the lass be? There were only so many places to hide on a ship. Unfortunately, she was sure her rebellious niece knew them all. “Jess?”

  “Where is she?” Now there was another voice in the night. “Adams!” It was a command that brooked no argument.

  “Aye sir!” the boy on watch answered smartly.

  “Did you see Miss St. John come up on deck tonight?” There was a harsh edge to the captain’s question.

  The boy was suddenly frightened. If something terrible happened to the woman, it might end up being his fault. But, even so, with this man, you always told the truth. No matter how awful the consequences might be. Better to tell the hard truth than to be caught in a lie. McLeod didn’t tolerate liars. “I didn’t see her, Captain.”

  “Where could she be, Captain McLeod?” The old lady’s voice was both worried an
d exasperated. “She’s probably tucked away watching us right now.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself and not him.

  “Start searching the ship. Find her.” Finn’s voice was clipped and hard as he gave the order. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity all over the deck. Men scurried to do his bidding.

  “Saul,” Finn called.

  “Aye, sir?” He was there immediately.

  “Take Mrs. Moore to her cabin.”

  “No Captain, I have to stay here. Jess might need me.” Dorcas wrung her hands. Her voice caught in a tiny sob.

  “I’ll bring her to you, as soon as we find her,” he said. “Go, you need to go below.”

  Dorcas must have heard something in his unemotional words that sent her away quickly. Something that made her obedient without questioning. She bustled back down to the cabin, looking over her shoulder every few feet until she was out of sight.

  Finn wasted not a second. He turned away toward the sailors milling about the dark deck. He promptly forgot Dorcas Moore existed.

  The truth was, he didn’t want to waste precious time dealing with the old woman. She may have thought she could do some good in the search, but Finn knew she would most probably get in the way. And at the moment, he could think of nothing but finding Jess. He had to find her. She was somewhere on the ship. Let her be somewhere on the ship- it was a litany that flooded his every conscious thought. Let me find her somewhere on the ship. He had no idea who he was pleading with, but he couldn’t stop. Visions of a woman’s limp body being tossed over the railing haunted him. Let her be alive, just let her be alive and unhurt, the litany pounded through his brain.

  If someone had harmed her, he knew he would lose whatever thin veneer of humanity covered his raging instinct to kill. If she was dead. He shook his head to clear the overwhelming temptation to spill someone’s blood. Anyone’s blood. If Jess was dead, it wouldn’t matter who else perished.

  Tracking the perimeter of the railing, he searched the blackness with hard eyes. Sailors were shouting all around him. Holding lanterns and scurrying below deck and even up into the rigging, they searched. But Finn didn’t hear a sound. He only continued to single-mindedly search.

  “Hellwise!” Finn’s voice thundered as he lifted the lid on a trunk that usually held folded sails. There was nothing inside. “Hellwise!”

  “Aye Captain?” the man answered as he slowly strolled up to his superior officer. There was a troublesome, knowing smirk on the first mate’s face.

  “Step lively, man,” Finn ordered. He liked neither the sailor’s tarrying nor his attitude. “I want you to organize a thorough search of the ship. Every trunk, box, and corner are to be inspected.”

  “Aye Captain,” Hellwise answered. His voice was slurred.

  Finn frowned. “Have you been drinking?”

  The reluctant first mate shook his head. He lied, “No, sir. I know well the penalty for such disobedience.”

  “Then what’s amiss with you, man?” Finn demanded.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Is that blood on your face?”

  Hellwise quickly wiped a grimy paw over his chin. He looked at the bright red smear now covering his palm. “I must have hurt myself when I was in the rigging, Captain McLeod. I’ll get it seen to straight away. Cook can put a plaster on it for me.”

  “What were you doing up in the rigging? That’s not a job for the ship’s officers.” Finn’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Aye, I know. But the lad who was supposed to be up there keeping watch, was distracted. So I chose to do it myself.

  “Distracted, you say?”

  “Aye sir, you see. The young lady was down here on deck sashaying about, tempting the men to ignore their duties.”

  Finn disregarded the less than complimentary implication concerning Jess’s intentions. He honed in on the fact that his officer had actually seen the woman. “Where, exactly where, was she? Did any of the crew accost her?”

  Hellwise shook his head. “No one was bothering her when I started up the mast. But by the time I got to the crow’s nest, she wasn’t on the deck anymore. Why? Has she gone missing?”

  “She has,” Finn growled through clenched teeth. “And I’ll rip the hide off any man who’s so much as touched her.”

  “You can’t hold the sailors accountable. If the wench wants to set up a little flirt,” Hellwise maliciously commented.

  Finn grabbed a fistful of the man’s stained shirt. He dragged him over the side of the ship. He shoved his first mate up and over the railing.

  “Take a good look at the sea, Hellwise. Any man on this vessel, no matter the provocation, will not give Miss St. John any reason to take offense. Is that clear? If anyone should be so foolish as to try, they will be given an introduction to the sting of salt water by way of a keelhauling under the bottom of the ship. You can pass that information to all who will listen. I’ll not have any woman, especially Miss St. John, suffer slight while she travels on my vessel.”

  The dirty first mate turned his head to look down at the churning sea below. It was not a calm night upon the ocean. The water was dangerous. Waves slapped the sides of the ship with immense force. Even the sea birds who’d attended their progress, had disappeared with the sun and taken refuge on the nearby coast.

  “It will be as you say, Captain. I will make your wishes known to the crew. The women will be off limits to all save you,” he sneered.

  Clearly the man had no idea in what peril he placed himself. By poking at McLeod’s reputation with the ladies, he was taking his very life into his own hands.

  Finn’s fist on the throat of the first mate’s shirt tightened. The smaller man began choking as his airway was constricted by the worn fabric. “I’m thinking you still don’t fully comprehend my meaning, Hellwise. Perhaps you should demonstrate the effects of a keelhauling for the rest of the men?”

  “No, Captain McLeod. That will not be necessary. I will gladly inform the crew of your orders as they relate to the ladies.” His attitude changed as soon as Finn challenged him. Suddenly, the officer was almost obsequious in his prodigious bowing and scraping. “I will personally do all that is within my power to make sure Miss St. John and her aunt have a pleasant journey with us,” he whined.

  “Good,” Finn said with an amazing amount of sangfroid. “Now, go aid the search of the vessel. I want the woman found. And I want her found safe and unharmed.”

  Finn dismissed the sailor. The captain wiped his hands on a handkerchief he’d retrieved from his coat pocket. He made sure Hellwise saw his utter disgust.

  “If I find you have lied, in any way, about Miss St. John, I will see you dead, Mr. Smithe.” Finn was not making an idle threat. He was making a promise.

  “I’ve told the truth, Captain. I vow she was on the deck.”

  “Then she should be there still. Go find her.”

  “Aye, sir,” the shaking man mumbled as he made his way past the towering lord.

  A hard hand caught him. “Don’t cross me, Hellwise,” Finn snarled. He was not at all sure the sailor was to be trusted.

  “Never, Milord. I mean Captain, sir. I vow on my mother’s grave, I would never cross you,” sputtered the man.

  Finn turned away. He renewed his efforts to find Jess. As he shoved at a pile of neatly coiled rope, he heard a tiny moan. Scrambling over the line, Finn saw Jess curled tight into a small, pitiful heap. Her hands covered her head, as if to ward off a blow. Her hair tumbled down her back in reckless disarray. It looked as if someone had ruthlessly tore it from its confining pins. She was hidden under the lip of a span of solid railing. Almost as if someone had stashed her into a place they knew would never be easily searched.

  Finn crouched low. He reached a hand towards her. “Jess?”

  The girl whimpered and cowered away from him.

  He cursed under his breath. He edged closer to her. “Jess? Can I draw you away from the railing, love?” He had no awareness of using the endearment. It
sprang naturally from his lips.

  The girl did not speak. But she raised her head to look at him.

  The man hissed when he saw the amount of damage done to her face. Her lip was torn. A thin, steady trickle of blood trailed down over her quivering chin. The beginnings of a set of finger-shaped bruises were blossoming around her delicate throat.

  “Who did this to you?” Finn demanded, fury riding him hard.

  Jess tried to speak. All that came from her lips was a thin croaking sound. She rubbed her throat and tried again. “I don’t know,” she managed to gasp out. Her words were a thready whisper.

  “You didn’t see him?” Finn pressed. He wanted to kill somebody. For the hurt done to this precious, fragile woman, he wanted to resort to the slaughter and anarchy he was often falsely accused of committing.

  Jess nodded. “He came up behind me. I fought him. But he was too strong.”

  “Did he… did he hurt you in any other way, love?” Finn didn’t want to hear the answer to that pointed question. But he must know the full extent of her injuries.

  “No,” she said as quickly as she could. Even the thought of discussing such intimacies with this man was humiliating.

  Finn took his first full breath in several minutes. “Let me help you back to the cabin. I’m sure your aunt will want to see to your wounds.”

  He easily lifted her up into his arms. He hid her battered face against his chest. There was no reason for anyone else to see how shamefully she’d been treated. He carried her to the set of short steps leading down to the cabin.

  Dorcas yelped in dismay, when she saw her niece. “Whatever has happened to you?” she shrieked. Rushing over to them, the old lady laid a comforting hand to the pale girl’s brow. “Did you fall? Was there a rogue wave that tossed you to the deck?”

  Jess shook her head. “No.”

  She said nothing else. For how was she to explain to her aunt that, in the process of trying to lure Finn McLeod, she’d inadvertently caught the eye of a madman. A ruffian who’d tried to kill her. One who’d taken great pleasure in her struggles. One who’d threatened her with the Maitland name.