"Aye. No balls for muskets. They went overboard in that storm months back, but plenty of swords."
Hunt reached for his sword belt that hung on a peg on the wall. "And can they use them?"
The officer dropped a hand to the dagger on his hip. "We'll see about that, won't we, sir?"
"Have your men all on deck, ready to fight. I imagine Wax ton intends to board us."
"Aye, sir. I'll tell the captain, sir."
Hunt strapped the sword belt around his waist and adjusted its weight. "Tell him I want no survivors. I know hand-to-hand was not part of the original agreement, but tell him I'll pay . . . and handsomely. If the captain loses his ship but bests the colonials, I'll replace the ship as well."
The young man glanced up at Hunt, but when he saw the look on the albino's face, he knew better than to question him. He only nodded his head and beat a hasty retreat back down the narrow corridor.
Taking a pistol from a drawer, Hunt stuffed it into the waistband of his breeches beneath the cover of his coat. Ellen shrank back, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her across the room and out of the cabin. "I want him to see you," he growled. "I want Waxton to see what he's lost and what I've gained."
Ellen dragged her feet. "We've bested you this far. You'll not win. Not now!"
Hunt spun around in fury, slapping her face hard with a pale hand. "That's for insolence . . . and a taste of what's to come. You want to be spirited, puss? Wait until this task is completed. Wait until I can give you my full attention, and then we'll see where your spirit is!"
He grabbed her by the torn bodice of her gown. "Now come along!" He started down the corridor toward the ladder that led topside. "You aggravate me too sorely, and I'll let the crew each have a piece of you while your man watches!" He shoved her ahead of him, and Ellen found the rungs of the ladder and raced upward toward the sunlight.
Once topside, Hunt led Ellen to where the captain stood on the quarterdeck of the square-rigger. Not too far in the distance was a single-masted sailing sloop cutting through the water at breakneck speed.
"She's much smaller than we are," the captain told Hunt. "Built for these colonial waters. There's no way I can outrace her."
"How many on board?" Hunt snatched the spyglass from the captain's hands to have a look for himself.
"A dozen men, maybe fifteen, no more."
"And your crew?"
"Counting myself and my first officer, twice that."
Hunt slapped him in the chest with the spyglass. "Kill them all and I'll double your payment when we reach London." He held up one finger. "Kill them all but for the leader. He's mine. Your men will have no trouble recognizing him. He'll be the cocky one."
Ellen stood beside Hunt, watching Gavin's sloop rapidly gain on the square-rigger. The men on deck became visible to the naked eye, and it only took a moment for Ellen to spot Gavin. He was standing on the bow of the boat, a spyglass in his hand, the wind whipping at his hair that was pulled back in his savage's braid. Ellen couldn't resist the barest of a smile.
"By the king's cod, what are you gaping at!" Hunt roared, cuffing her. "You relish the thought of watching him die?"
Ellen made no reply, which seemed to even further infuriate the duke. "Stand back!" he shouted at her, pushing her behind him. "And don't you move, else you'll live long to regret it!"
Ellen stumbled back under the force of his fist, but she caught herself before she went down. At least he wasn't going to tie her up. That would make her escape even easier once Gavin boarded the vessel.
"We'll tie lines to two empty rain barrels and heave them aft as the sloop comes alongside," the captain told Hunt. "That should bring us up short and she'll sail right by us. If the sloop's a bit slow tacking back, we'll cut her in half and let the crabs feast on colonial meat."
Hunt nodded approvingly as the sloop rapidly gained on them, approaching by the starboard side.
A moment later, the captain shouted, "Toss the barrels, lads!"
Ellen watched as the sailors threw the huge rain barrels over the stern of the ship. As the lines attached to the barrels snapped, the entire vessel shuddered, wood creaked, and the sails went slack, only to fill with wind again, creating a horrendous booming.
Ellen craned her neck to catch sight of Gavin as he ran aft of the sloop and shoved the tiller to his starboard side, turning the sloop directly into the path of the square-rigger.
The air was filled with the sound of splintering wood, and a sheet of water shot into the air as the sloop sliced into the larger vessel.
"Christ, he's mad! He'll drown us all," the captain cried as he drew his sword. "Repel boarders!"
"Tell them there'll be a gold piece for every colonial's head they bring me," Hunt boomed.
"You heard him, lads!" the captain shouted above the sounds of confusion. "Draw your weapons!"
Ellen grabbed a hemp rope to steady herself, watching in fascination as grappling hooks flew up off the deck of the sinking sloop to catch the rigging.
Ellen spotted Gavin, but then she lost sight of him as his men swung onto the square-rigger's main deck by way of the grappling lines, their swords drawn.
It was the bondmen from Heaven's Fate whom Gavin had brought with him. Ellen recognized several of them as they lashed out at the sailors with their heavy blades. The clang of metal and the shouts of men below her on the lower deck filled the air. Then came the screams . . . screams of pain so frightening that they made Ellen's heart trip in her breast.
As she saw the first man go down, a sailor, she clamped her hands over her mouth. She could smell the sweet scent of his blood on the wind as it poured onto the deck in a puddle beneath him.
But where was Gavin? Surely he had boarded. She must have missed him in the mayhem! Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Duke of Hunt draw his sword and turn. Gavin appeared out of nowhere, flying through the air on a line attached to rigging far above the deck.
As his feet hit the quarterdeck and he released the line, Ellen lunged forward at the duke. Hunt swung his free hand, hitting Ellen so hard across the chest that she fell backward off the quarterdeck to the main deck six feet below. For a moment she lay on the hard wood, stunned. But as her head cleared and she realized she wasn't injured, she had no thought but to get back up to Gavin.
Just as she picked herself up off the deck, she thought she heard her name on the wind.
"Mistress Ellen!"
Ellen whipped around but saw no one who could possibly be calling her. The deck was wet with blood and men still fought everywhere.
"Mistress!"
Confused, Ellen scanned the deck. Suddenly, she realized that the voice was coming from the livestock crates only a few feet from her.
"Mistress! It's me! It's Rob."
"Rob?"
Ellen raced to the crates and dropped to her knees. The boy was locked inside a barred crate meant for hogs. "Rob, are you all right?" She gripped a filthy wooden bar, staring inside. The boy was crouched on his hands and knees, his face beaten black and blue, his clothing torn in shreds.
"I'm s . . . so sorry they got you, mistress," he cried, pressing his face to the bars. "I tried to hold 'em off at H . . . Heaven's Fate, I swear by the Holy Christ I did!"
"I know you did," she soothed as she tugged at the knots that bound the door of the crate shut. "I know you did your best. And look, I'm fine."
"Loosen me and I'll fight by Lord Waxton's side. I can lift a sword, I can!"
Frustrated, Ellen clawed at the knots. They were wet and tight. She couldn't free him!
She touched the boy's arm through the bars. "Listen to me, Rob. I'll have to get a knife to cut you free. I can't untie the door. The knots are too tight!"
"No! Don't leave me, please don't leave me," he sobbed, tears running down his face. He had tried to be a man as long as he could, but suddenly he was just a frightened boy again.
Ellen put up her hand to soothe him. "I'll get a knife and come right back for you. I swear, I will."
<
br /> His lower lip trembling, he nodded. "You'll come right back?"
"I'll come right back." She smoothed his bruised cheek tenderly. "I swear it."
Raising up off her knees, Ellen glanced frantically for a knife or a sword lying on the bloody deck. She had to free the boy! Surely one of the men had dropped a knife!
Though outnumbered, the bondmen seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Sailors' bodies lay in pools of blood at her feet. Another time and perhaps she'd have been sick from the carnage, but all that mattered now was rescuing young Rob.
Suddenly, Ellen spotted a small dagger only a few feet from where she stood. She dove for it, ignoring the bloodstains on the handle. Whirling around, she ran back toward Rob, her skirts bunched in her fists.
Just as she reached the livestock crate where the boy was imprisoned, Ellen spotted Gavin and Hunt above her on the quarterdeck. Hunt had Gavin backed up against the railing of the ship. Their swords sliced the air, the clanging of metal seeming to rise above the bloody cacophony. Ellen tightened her grip on the dagger. If she sank it into Hunt's back, he'd be dead and Gavin would be safe. . . .
"Mistress! Mistress!" Rob called, rattling the wooden bars.
Ellen turned to see Rob. He seemed so pitiful and small caged as no man or beast should be.
She looked back up at Gavin in indecision. He had several flesh wounds. Sweat beaded across his face as he struggled to best the Duke of Hunt, a superior swordsman.
A race up the ladder and onto the quarterdeck, and she would have Hunt . . .
But the boy. To cut the knots would take precious moments.
Ellen suddenly dropped to her knees in front of the livestock crate. She had promised the child. She couldn't let him down now! What if one of the other sailors came for him?
She sawed through the thick wet rope that lashed the door shut. "Hide!" she ordered him as the rope fell in her hands. "The master's sloop's gone under. There's no chance but to take possession of this boat."
The boy swung open the door and crawled out. "You hide, too, mistress. I can't without you. Lord Waxton would never forgive me."
Ellen's eyes narrowed angrily. "I said hide before one of the sailors finds you," she ordered as a mother would to her child in danger. "Now, Robert!"
The boy gulped, stepping back in fear. Then he turned and ran.
Ellen watched him disappear over a stack of barrels before she turned her attention back to Hunt and Gavin.
She flew up the ladder that led to the quarterdeck. Once her feet hit solid wood, she raced straight for Hunt's broad back, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand. All the anger, all the fear of the years past, suddenly bubbled up inside her. Revenge was what she wanted now and revenge she would have!
Gavin caught sight of her as she sprinted across the deck. "Ellen! Get back!"
Hunt took advantage of Gavin's instant of lost concentration and, with one hard slice of his heavy sword, knocked Gavin's out of his hand. Ellen shouted "No!" as the sword went flying through the air and over the railing, splashing into the water below.
As Hunt drew back his sword for one final, crushing blow, Ellen screamed again, her high-pitched voice renting the air. "No!" she cried again and again, flinging herself into Hunt. But before she could sink the dagger into his back, he knocked her off balance, sending her sprawling onto the deck. Somehow he managed to still hold Gavin against the railing with the tip of his sword at his throat.
Ellen scrabbled to her feet, trying to escape Hunt's clutches, but he grabbed a hank of red hair with his free hand and dragged her to her feet.
"You dare try to strike me, Thomasina!" he spit.
"Let him go!" she sobbed. "This is between the two of us. Free him and I'll go with you. I swear, I will!"
"Ellen, no!" Gavin shouted. "Run! He'll not come after you! Not as long as I live!"
Ellen's gaze met Hunt's; his pink eyes bored into hers. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flash of the butt of the pistol she remembered seeing him tuck into his breeches as they left the cabin.
With a slip of her hand, she reached beneath his coat and pulled out the pistol.
Hunt stared at her for a moment in surprise and then threw back his head. Laughter bubbled from his tight, pale lips.
Ellen cocked the hammer.
Hunt laughed harder. "Don't be a fool, puss. Put down the gun before you hurt yourself."
"Ellen," Gavin said, his voice strained with emotion. "Just step back, sweet. I can fend for myself."
Ellen ignored Gavin's plea. "Let him go," she whispered. "Let him go or I'll shoot your head off your shoulders, Hunt."
Hunt grinned. "You wouldn't. You fear me too greatly, Thomasina. You've always feared me. You've always been a coward."
"You're right." She nodded, testing the trigger ever so lightly with her index finger. "Thomasina did fear you. But I don't." She smiled as she pulled the trigger. "This is for Richard. . . ."
Ellen closed her eyes just as the pistol discharged. She didn't see the look of shock on Hunt's face as the musket ball blew through his head at point-blank range. She only heard him fly backward and hit the deck, his sword still clutched in his hand.
For a moment Ellen stood frozen, the pistol still aimed. There was a buzzing in her ears. She could smell the stench of blackpowder and taste it on the tip of her tongue.
He's dead, she thought numbly. He's finally dead.
Then she heard Gavin's voice. She heard him call to the men below that the duke was dead. Suddenly, there was silence; the fighting had come to an end.
Ellen felt Gavin's soothing touch as he carefully removed the pistol from her trembling hands.
"Ellen?" He shook her gently. "Ellen, it's all right, love."
"Gavin?" She was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid it was all a dream.
"He's dead, sweetheart. You're safe now. The Duke of Hunt will never harm you again."
Slowly, she opened her eyes to peer up at his strikingly handsome face. "You came back. . . ."
He pulled her hard against him. "Forgive me for not having the sense to stand and listen. Forgive me for not trusting you."
"I have so much to tell you," she whispered against his chest. God, but it was good to feel his arms around her. "I want to tell all of it."
"Later."
She swayed against him. Her mind was reeling at the thought that her nightmare was truly over. "Waldron, Hunt, the letter . . ."
Gavin swept her into his arms, crushing his mouth against hers. "Later. You can tell me your tale later, sweet. It looks like my men have control of the ship. Let's just go home now."
She looked up into his heavenly green eyes and reached out to brush back a dark lock of hair that had escaped his savage's braid. She was suddenly exhausted, so exhausted she could barely think. "You do love me, don't you?" she whispered softly.
Gavin strode across the square-rigger's quarterdeck, the wind blowing off the bay to whip his dark hair against her own red locks. "I love you, Ellen"—he laughed, smiling down at her—"Thomasina, whatever the hell your name is . . ."
Epilogue
December 1665
Heaven's Fate
Ellen pulled the coverlet over her sleeping son cradled in the crook of her arm and smiled at the sight of his little face. From the bed, her gaze instantly went to Gavin, who was seated at his desk beneath the windows. He sat with his head bent in concentration, a quill poised in his hand. The light of the fire on the hearth flickered, casting shadows across her exquisite face.
"Ready for bed?" Ellen asked. Having fully recovered from the birth of their son six weeks ago, she was anxious to be in her husband's arms again. "Ross is asleep."
Gavin laid down his quill and rose from the chair. He came across the room, his bare feet padding on the sanded floorboards. He was still dressed in a pair of broadcloth breeches and a muslin shirt he wore untucked to fall over his hips. He reached over Ellen and lifted his firstborn into his arms. "Finally a belly full?" he cooed, nuzzlin
g the red fuzz on his son's head, inhaling that soft baby scent that enchants all parents. "Going to sleep the night and give your father some peace?"
The little boy slept on, unaware of his father's words.
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Gavin carried Ross to the cradle near the fireplace and tucked him in beneath the goose feather quilts.
When Gavin turned back to Ellen, there was a smile of true contentment on his face . . . a smile few men ever found. "And now what do you want?" he teased, his green eyes flickering with thoughts of sexual pleasure.
"The same as you, I would guess," she answered in a silky voice. She lifted her arms out to him, letting the coverlet fall to bare her breasts. "Come and we'll see."
Gavin pulled his shirt over his head and let it slide to the floor. Before he reached the bed, his breeches had joined the pile.
Ellen's skin tingled with the first stirring of anticipation. As he came to her and slipped beneath the coverlet, she wondered if he would always excite her the way he did now. She hoped so.
Gavin slipped his arm beneath his wife and drew her close. His lips brushed hers. "A damned fine son you've given me, sweet," he whispered.
"Damned fine husband," she echoed, nipping at his lower lip with her teeth. Damned fine to have accepted all I confessed, she thought. Damned fine to have understood what had happened between her and his brother. Damned fine to have forgiven.
"I have just one question that's been gnawing at me concerning Thomasina," he told her, rolling onto his side so that he could study her face.
In the last few months, they had spoken a great deal about her life as Thomasina. Ellen and Gavin found that through their honest, open discussions, they were both finally able to accept the past and its realities, and let it rest. "And what's that?"
"The woman whose portrait hangs in my library . . . her hair is dark." He caught a lock of Ellen's shining red hair and smoothed it between his fingertips. "But this Ellen of mine, she's a redhead. My son is, no doubt, a redhead."
Ellen giggled. "I wondered how long it would be before you asked. I should have destroyed that portrait when I had the chance!"
He pressed a kiss to the valley between her breasts, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "I told you, I like the picture and there it will stay in my library." He raised his head, lifting a dark eyebrow. "So explain the riddle."
Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity) Page 34