Surrender the Heart

by Marylu Tyndall

  “Not for sure, mister.” Daniel’s eyes sparkled with youthful exuberance.

  Blackthorn sipped his drink. “Though I ain’t too sure I believe it anymore, I’d listen to me son, if I were you. He’s rarely wrong. In fact, he’s a miracle hisself.”

  “How so?” Noah asked.

  Blackthorn rubbed a finger over the gaping holes where two teeth had once stood. “My wife could bear no children, being past the age. We resigned ourselves to being childless. So, I went off to sea. She took a position as governess in the mayor’s home. But she never stopped praying for a baby. Then a little more than eight months after I left Daniel came along. The physician called it a miracle.” Blackthorn put his arm around the boy and seemed to have difficulty containing his emotions. “He’s been the light o’ our lives e’er since. Though I’m sure your ma is right furious at me for takin’ ye to sea.” He swallowed and glanced away. “She must be overwrought with worry o’er what happened to us.”

  “A miracle child, eh?” Noah elbowed Daniel and the boy grinned.

  “My son inherited his strong faith from his ma,” Blackthorn gazed with pride upon the lad. “Me? Me feet stand on more solid ground.”

  The boy’s features crumbled. “But God told me Miss Denton and these men would come to free us.” He looked up at Noah. “It’s what you’re supposed to do.”

  Whether God sent him here or not, Noah knew all too well what he had to do. He had to find a way to get Marianne and his crew off this ship. “It may be our only chance.” Noah eyed each man in turn. “What have we got to lose?”

  “Our lives,” Weller grumbled.

  “You call this life?” He paused, looking at each man in turn. “I’d rather be dead.” Noah leaned toward Daniel. “Tell Miss Denton that we shall make our escape in Antigua.”

  Marianne stepped onto the weather deck. The evening breeze, stiff with the scent of brine, swirled around her, cooling her perspiration. Pressing a hand against her back, she tried to stop the ache that had taken residence after yet another day of scrubbing and polishing and buffing and listening to the mindless chatter of the captain. Thankfully he made no mention of her tucking him into bed the night before or of his disclosure of his preference to be a farmer. She hoped he had forgotten, but after his foul mood and gruff mannerism all day, she doubted it, for he exhibited all the signs of a man with wounded pride.

  Despite the captain’s belligerent behavior, Marianne found her spirits lifted after Daniel gave her Noah’s message. Did he have a plan? Could they really escape? She dared not allow her hopes to rise for she didn’t think she could survive another disappointment. However, if she did hope just a little, if she did believe they might get off this ship, that meant she would have to put her trust in Noah. She cringed at the thought of trusting anyone again.

  The ship rose over a swell, and she balanced her sore feet over the planks, amazed at how accustomed she had become to the sudden roll of the deck. Now, if she could overcome her fear of the fathomless expanse of blue surrounding them, she might enjoy these trips above. Inching her way to the break of the quarterdeck, she gripped the wooden railing and drew a deep breath of the moist air. The sun waved a farewell ribbon resplendent with peach, saffron, and maroon across the horizon.

  She surveyed the ship. A few watchmen sauntered about, paying her no mind. Apparently, she had become as normal a feature aboard this ship as any of the sailors. Whether that was a good thing or not, she couldn’t say. The clamor of voices, clank of plates, and twang of a fiddle wafted up from below where most of the crew partook of their dinner, or mess as they called it—an appropriate description based on what she’d seen. The captain and his officers ate much better. And thankfully so did she.

  Her thoughts drifted to Noah, and she wondered how he fared. She knew the British sailors treated the Americans poorly, and it saddened her to think he was suffering. Odd, when not two weeks ago, she had wanted to strangle him. What had changed? What had transformed the repugnant brat into a chivalrous gentleman?

  She ran the tips of her fingers over her lips and thought of their kiss.

  Her belly warmed at the memory.

  Truth be told, she wished she could stop thinking about the kiss or about Noah at all. But she could not. And that frightened her more than anything—even more than being trapped aboard this ship. Day and night she wondered about him. How was he faring in the tops? Did they beat him? Did he sleep well? And whenever she came on deck, she searched him out, desperate for a glimpse of him. What was wrong with her? She was behaving like a silly schoolgirl.

  She loved him.

  The realization stormed through her like a mighty gale. And like a gale, it threatened to tear her to shreds. For Noah had made his desires quite plain. He did not wish to marry her. He had a sweetheart in South Hampton. Marianne was no fool. She knew all too well that any union between her and Noah would only be motivated by his need of her wealth.

  But she couldn’t allow him to be so miserably matched just to appease his father’s guilt-induced mandate. She loved him too much.

  No, if they ever got off this ship and back to Baltimore, she would grant Noah his wish and break off their engagement. She had done him enough damage, caused him enough pain. That way he could silence his father’s demands and marry Priscilla—beautiful, cultured Priscilla. Her insides crumpled at the thought.

  She would find another way to provide for her mother and sister and purchase the medicine her mother needed. Oh Lord, please heal my mother. Please take care of her and Lizzie in my absence. Her heart ached to know how they fared.

  “Don’t cry, Miss Denton.” The slippery voice sent a chill over her. She knew who it was before she turned around.

  “Lieutenant Garrick.” Marianne batted the moisture from her face. “You frightened me.”

  The grin on his thin lips turned her stomach sour. “What has you so distraught, my dear?” He slithered beside her at the railing, effectively backing her against the head of the quarterdeck.

  Her nerves tightened. She faced the sea. The last traces of the sun slipped below the horizon. “I am concerned for my mother and sister back in Baltimore.”

  “Ah yes, apart from loved ones. It is the price we pay to serve in His Majesty’s Navy.” He brushed his coat, drawing attention to the gold stripe and three buttons lining his cuff.

  Marianne twisted her ring. Was he trying to impress her? She dared to stare into his narrowed dark eyes. “I am not in His Majesty’s Navy.” Her sharp tone sent one of his eyebrows into an imperious arch.

  “I believe you are mistaken, Miss Denton, for last I heard you are aboard the HMS Undefeatable serving as Captain’s steward.”

  “Not by choice.”

  “Don’t be so naive.” He ran a thumb down the whiskers outlining his pointed chin. “Most of these men are not here by choice.”

  “Perhaps if they were, you wouldn’t have to strip the flesh off their backs to force their loyalty.” She regretted her brazen statement as soon as it left her lips.

  A look akin to a demon’s scowl came over Lieutenant Garrick’s face. Darkness seeped from his eyes.

  Marianne’s blood turned cold. She glanced across the deck, now murky in the falling shadows. No one was in sight.

  He flashed a superior grin. “How could a woman understand the ways of the greatest navy in the world?”

  Marianne thought to tell him she hoped never to understand but decided for once to keep her mouth shut.

  “It is a lonely career, Miss Denton. Like you, I miss the companionship of family and friends from home.” He leaned toward her, his eyes absorbing her from head to toe. The stench of alcohol hung upon his foul breath. “The companionship of a woman.”

  She backed against the quarterdeck. Her heart thrashed against her chest. The ship plunged down a wave, sending a spray of saltwater over them. Marianne quivered.

  “Ah, you shiver, Miss Denton. No need to be afraid. I will protect you.” He caressed her cheek.

&n
bsp; She jerked away. “And who will protect me from you?”

  He grinned. “No one, I suppose. Which is why you should simply give me what I want. It will go much better for you.”

  Marianne’s feet went numb. She dug her nails into the wood behind her. Lord. Please. Help me. If she screamed would anyone come to her aid? Would anyone stand up for her against Lieutenant Garrick?

  Raising his arm, he pressed his hand against the quarterdeck, blocking her exit. “Ah, I assure you, no one will cross me, Miss Denton. I am second in command and have the captain’s favor, and everyone on board this ship knows it.”

  Her chest heaved for air. She lifted her shoulders. “Then what is it you want, Lieutenant Garrick?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” In an instant, he closed the distance between them and crushed his body against hers.

  Marianne struggled. She tried to pound her fists against his chest. She tried to kick him. But the weight of his body pinned her to the quarterdeck. His mouth clawed hers. Spit and salt stung her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to wake up. Just a nightmare. Only a nightmare. She tried to scream, but only a pathetic squeal groaned from her throat.

  Then a deep growl of fury filled the air.

  Marianne felt the weight of Lieutenant Garrick’s body lift from hers. She struggled for a breath. Thump! The sound of something heavy hitting the wooden planks caused her to open her eyes. The lieutenant lay on the deck, one arm hung over the railing, his chest heaving. His sordid features twisted in a mixture of shock and rage.

  Before him stood Noah, muscles flexing, fists clenched. His hair hanging around his firm jaw. He turned to her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, stunned as much by his concern, the fear for her that she saw in those blue eyes as by what he had just done.

  “Do you know who I am?” the lieutenant roared. “I’ll have you court-martialed and hung for that, Yankee!” He struggled to his feet and straightened his jacket.

  The men on watch approached from all sides. Lieutenant Reed’s tall, dark form lurked at a distance. Blackthorn headed toward them from across the deck.

  Garrick turned and addressed his audience. “You saw it. He struck me!”

  “I only pushed you aside to keep you from accosting this woman.” Noah ran a hand through his hair. “Or is ravishing women an acceptable pastime allowed officers according to your precious Articles of War?”

  Garrick laughed and stormed toward him. “You will die for this, Yankee dog. I hope the trollop is worth your life.”

  Noah lifted his fist to strike the man.

  “No, Noah!” Marianne screamed and grabbed his arm, but he tore it from her grasp.

  Blackthorn darted to Noah’s side and shoved him back, staying his hand.

  Noah struggled against the massive man, but Blackthorn held him in place. “Garrick will have you hanged.”

  Garrick chuckled. “How noble, Mr. Blackthorn. But I fear your efforts are in vain.” He grabbed his hat from the deck and plopped it atop his head. “The man already hit me, and he will pay the penalty. And in case you aren’t familiar with our precious Articles of War, the penalty for striking an officer is death.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Noah raised his hands to scratch his face. The iron manacles clanked in protest as they bit into his wrists. Whips of sun lashed the back of his neck as streams of perspiration slid beneath his shirt. Though exhaustion attempted to drag his chin down, he refused to lower his head in defeat. The shrill of the boson’s pipe pierced the air. His stomach soured.

  Footsteps thundered over the deck as the crew mustered amidships for the trial.

  His trial.

  The captain glared down at him from the quarterdeck. The supercilious smirk on his face suggested a perverted glee at the punishment of others. To Noah’s left, Luke, Weller, and Blackthorn huddled together, lines of fear etched their faces. He hoped the young lad Daniel had gone below out of sight of such horror. He hoped the same for Marianne.

  But a flash of maroon linen caught the corner of his eye, dashing his hopes. She stood at the top of the quarterdeck ladder, anguish burning on her features. Confound the woman! He didn’t want her to witness his shame, to see him like this, beaten and chained. Nor did he wish to witness the pity, the sympathy now spilling from her lustrous brown eyes.

  When he’d seen Garrick’s body crushed against hers—heard his lecherous grunts and lewd comments—all reason, all fear had abandoned Noah. The only thing that mattered was protecting her. He was not sorry. He would do it again. He would take whatever punishment their twisted sense of justice meted out to him.

  Even death.

  Except that would leave Marianne alone with no one to rescue her the next time. Noah grimaced until the muscles in his jaw ached. The hot wind pounded on him, yanking his tangled hair. Above him, the masts creaked under the strain of canvas glutted with the breath of the sea.

  Noah barely heard the captain call the inquiry to order or the master at arms read the charge. Assaulting an officer. Hushed murmurs of fear rose from the crew. They no doubt knew the fate that awaited him.

  “Silence!” the captain shouted. “This is but an inquiry into the charges, Mr. Brenin. If I deem you guilty, you will await a court-martial when we reach port. Now, what do you have to say in your behalf?”

  Noah squinted up at him, the captain’s silhouette a dark shifting blotch against the brightness of the noon sun. “I did not strike Lieutenant Garrick, Captain. I merely protected the honor of a lady.”

  Garrick laughed. “I see no lady aboard.”

  The crew chuckled, drawing a fierce “Order!” from the captain who pounded his fist upon the railing.

  “Lieutenant Garrick, what is your side of it?”

  The slimy toad, who stood beside Milford, turned to his captain. “I was conversing with Miss Denton, your steward.”

  “I know she’s my steward, blast you!” The captain fumed, sending the lieutenant back a step.

  Garrick adjusted his coat and continued, “As I said, I was conversing with Miss Denton when Mr. Brenin charged me and knocked me to the deck. There was no cause for it that I could see other than his vicious Yankee temper.”

  The captain eyed Garrick with suspicion. No doubt, the man’s arrogant belligerence had not missed the captain’s notice. “No other cause, you say?”

  Garrick shifted his boots over the deck and took a pompous stance. “Isn’t it obvious, Captain? He’s jealous.”

  Lieutenant Reed, standing to the captain’s left, snorted.

  Noah snapped the hair from his face. “Not jealous, sir, but concerned for the lady.”

  Murmurs sped through the crowd, silenced by one look from Captain Milford.

  “Hmm.” The captain eyed Noah. “Regardless of the cause, you know, sir, I could have you court-martialed and hanged for striking an officer.”

  “Lieutenant Garrick is lying.” Marianne’s bold declaration drew all eyes to her.

  Yet she could not allow such atrocious lies to go unchallenged. Nor could she allow Noah to die for her without at least trying to save him.

  His blue eyes met hers. The fear and admiration within them gave her the courage to continue.

  The captain’s jaw stiffened, and his dark brows drew together as if he couldn’t believe she had the audacity to speak in front of the entire crew. She knew that look. He was about to unleash his mad fury on her and order her below. She took a step toward him. “I beg you, Captain, hear me out. Lieutenant Garrick assaulted me, and this man came to my rescue. He did not strike the lieutenant but merely pulled him from me.” She gazed at Noah and smiled. “To save me, Captain.”

  Noah’s brow furrowed.

  “That is pure rubbish, Captain. I—” Garrick began, but with a lift of the captain’s hand, he was silenced.

  Marianne prayed that reason reigned in the captain’s mind this day instead of laudanum-induced hysteria.

  Captain Milford scanned the assembled crew.
“Were there any other witnesses?”

  Midshipman Jones took an unsteady step forward. He dragged his hat from his head, revealing the smooth face of a young man no older than eighteen. “When I came upon them, Captain.” His voice quavered. “I saw Lieutenant Garrick on the deck and this man”—he pointed toward Noah—“hovering over the lieutenant, his fists clenched as if he’d struck him.”

  Garrick smiled.

  “Thank you, Mr. Jones.” The captain nodded his approval. “Anyone else?”

  One crewman separated from the crowd. “That’s what I saw, Cap’n, except this one, Blackthorn, was holding Mr. Brenin back from striking the lieutenant again.”