by Vanda Vadas
‘Your swordsmanship!’ Shafford touched his waistcoat where the buttons had once been. ‘You possess a lethal, accurate hand, highwayman. Why didn’t you slash open my chest, rather than ensure my tailor remains in my employ?’
‘As I said, my quarrel is not with you.’
‘Indeed it is! You may be a worthy opponent, but you are also a damnable liar. One to whom I shall grant no quarter. If you have harmed her in any way, you’ll know what it is to die a slow and agonising death.’
Zach raised a brow. ‘You are quick to judge a man.’
Shafford raised his chin and looked down his nose. ‘You are what you are. A man without scruples. A man with no honour is no man at all.’
‘Perhaps you should seek that man among your peers.’
Shafford lunged forwards. Zach parried with a lightning-fast bind, taking control of the other’s blade and flicking the sword from his hand. As it shot through the air, Zach caught it.
In the blink of an eye, the marquess found not one, but two swords pointed at him. He threw his arms out wide. ‘Do your worst, highwayman! Or do you only possess courage enough to intimidate women?’
Zach deftly swivelled the captured sword in his hand and offered the hilt to its rightful owner. ‘Your taunts are wasted on me. I’ve no reason to fight you.’
Shafford snatched it back. ‘No reason? Kidnapping my sister is no reason for me to fight for her honour? Her life?’
Sister? Zach staggered back a step and lost his footing in the sodden earth.
A grave mistake.
The marquess thrust forwards, piercing Zach’s right shoulder with the tip of his sword. White-hot pain seared flesh. Reflexively, Zach dropped the sword. His left hand clamped down on his shoulder. Blood oozed from the wound, seeping between his fingers. Diluted by rain, it ran in scarlet streaks down his white linen shirt. He bent to retrieve the weapon and froze at the touch of cold steel at his throat.
‘Leave it!’
The pressure of the blade forced Zach to slowly stand, and straighten. Triumph glittered in Shafford’s eyes.
‘How clumsy of you, highwayman. Perhaps I have bested my match.’
Zach held his tongue.
The marquess scowled, his lips pressed together in a thin line. ‘What have you done with Eloise?’
Eloise. He’d been blind to the obvious. Sail the stars! Why hadn’t he seen it before? Like pulling threads from cloth, he plucked memories from his brain. A vivid image of her parents overshadowed a dim picture of Eloise, the child. She’d inherited her mother’s green eyes and rich chestnut hair. From her father, a nature so stubborn it could drive a man to madness.
He recognised too, for the first time, a resemblance to the marquess – her brother – fierce protector. Loyal friend. How loyal would he prove to be now if Zach were to remove his mask?
As if reading his thoughts, the marquess touched the tip of his sword to Zach’s temple. ‘I suggest you cooperate, highwayman.’
The sharp tip moved towards the outer edge of Zach’s eye, cutting a fine line in the silk mask and the flesh beneath it. Blood stained his cheek.
Shafford stared down at Zach coldly. ‘The alternative will be the loss of an eye. Or both.’
Zach risked a glance at the skies. The rain had eased. He had no time to challenge the marquess in a battle of wits. ‘You can either carve me up piece by piece, here and now, or withdraw your sword whereupon we shall discuss the matter like the gentlemen we are.’
‘You? A gentleman?’ Shafford roared with laughter. ‘I doubt a lowly felon such as yourself even understands the meaning of the word. Remove your mask or my sword shall do it for you. I want to see the face of a lying coward.’
Zach fought to ignore the blinding pain in his shoulder, and the sting at his temple. ‘I’ve given my accomplice an order to kill your sister should I not return to him. Would you have me deliver her alive? Or dead? The choice is yours.’ He tried to remain composed, hoping the marquess wouldn’t see through his bluff.
Shafford’s eyes widened with panic. His hand, holding the sword, twitched.
Zach took full advantage of Shafford’s faltering concentration. With speed, his left forearm blocked and pushed away the sword at his face. At the same time, he mustered all his strength to lunge forwards and drive his fist into Shafford’s cheek, knocking him to the ground, unconscious.
Zach staggered as excruciating pain burned his shoulder. Ignoring the blood leaching from his shoulder wound, he moved quickly towards Shafford’s companion and examined his injuries. Satisfied the man would live to see another day, and that Shafford would rouse soon enough, Zach dressed his own wound as best he could, and fled.
Weary, Zach crested the clifftop along the western coastline. He gazed out over the Atlantic Ocean.
Cormorants stood upright on rocky perches, holding their wings out to dry after a day’s diving. Seagulls cried overhead. Below, along the crystal clear water’s edge, a group of oystercatchers used their long red bills to hunt for shellfish.
Blustery wind lifted the hair from Zach’s shoulders. It swept beneath his unbuttoned coat. He breathed deeply the invigorating life force. Surprising how a dose of briny air could revive one’s spirits.
The wind’s blast on his wet clothes chilled his skin, warmed only by the thought of seeing Eloise. Eyes closed, he took another deep breath and held it. He exhaled long and slow.
He surveyed the body of water between his ship and the shoreline, studying the outgoing tide and currents. Darkness would soon descend.
Though his wound throbbed, he’d bandaged it well enough to stem the bleeding. He had faith the ship’s doctor would remedy any risk of infection setting in. He scratched the dried blood from his temple. What was another scar on an already marked body?
The roan trod a careful path down the steep descent towards the beach. As one, horse and rider shared a sense of freedom and raced at a gallop along the sand. Hooves splashed waves lapping the shore. Zach turned the roan towards the cave’s mouth.
Above the sound of sea and surf, he heard the relief-filled shout of his lieutenant, who ran from the cave to greet him.
‘Captain! Thank God.’
The roan, startled, reared up. Zach gained swift control, easing it to a standstill. ‘What’s wrong, man?’
Seth threw a glance towards the cave. ‘Let’s just say I’m happy to hand her over to you.’
Eloise stood ramrod straight at the cave’s entrance, one palm laid flat against the rock wall, her other resting on her hip. Light from a fire inside the cave served to outline her form. She stood proud, ever defiant, the wind whipping at her chestnut hair and the folds of her skirt.
Zach dismounted. ‘So you’d rather swallow a dagger than deal with a genteel lady?’
‘Genteel? If she were carved from wood she’d make a formidable figurehead at the prow of a ship. She’d ward off evil and mythical sea creatures.’
Zach laughed. ‘I doubt your opinion would flatter Lady Eloise.’
‘Who?’ No sooner had Seth asked the question, he stepped closer, eyes focused on his captain’s temple. ‘I don’t need to guess how you got that. Who were those men?’
‘One, I didn’t know. The other …’ Zach’s gaze slid to Eloise.
‘The other?’ urged Seth.
‘Her brother. The marquess.’
‘Shafford?’
‘Yes.’
Seth’s mouth fell open.
‘Captain?’ shouted Eloise. ‘Where are you? I would speak with you. Now!’
The men exchanged a harrowed look.
‘She’s your prisoner,’ said Seth.
‘That she is.’ Zach handed over his horse’s reins. ‘This fine animal deserves a rub down, food and water.’
‘I’ll see to it.’
Zach’s boots crunched over pebbles and sand. He stopped at arm’s length from Eloise, glad to see she still wore the bandage to protect her eyes.
‘Captain, you have much explaining to
do! You abduct me, keep me locked up Lord knows where, and then drag me on horseback across the countryside. Now you have me closeted away in a coastal cave. Where, exactly, are we? I beseech you, of what possible value am I to you, which requires you to haul me this far?’
The strain of her ordeal could be heard in her voice. It showed in the frown lines on her forehead and the tightness of her mouth. He took her arm. ‘Let’s take shelter inside the cave.’
She shrugged out of his hold, refusing to budge. ‘Here is just as good as any place to be having this conversation.’
‘You’re right. A beach cave is no place to bring a lady.’
She stood as if ready to fight for her life, her only weapon being words. Her breasts rose and fell upon a shuddering breath. ‘I’ll have you know my family holds favour with the Duke of Arlington. Deliver me home safely and I’ll forget this whole tiresome incident. Either that or, when you’re finally caught, the duke will ensure you pay with your life.’
I already have. ‘Holding favour with the king wouldn’t change my reasons for abducting you.’
‘You are yet to tell me those reasons.’
‘I … can’t.’ Zach’s lips pressed together. Pain and sorrow struck at the centre of his heart. His eyes shut tight against the memories of that tragic day. He closed his mind to the haunting high-pitched screams of a young child calling for her mother and father. Not one day had passed during the last ten years when he hadn’t suffered undeserved guilt over the gut-wrenching events of that catastrophic morning. And here, in this moment, that young girl stood before him as a woman who deserved to know the truth behind the death of her parents.
His eyes flashed open. His gaze fixed on her face. Now that he knew her name, he felt unworthy of speaking it.
‘This is intolerable!’ She stormed away from him, hands clawing their way along the cave wall.
‘Eloise!’
She jerked to a standstill and turned around. ‘How did you learn my name?’ The look on her face said he had no right knowing it. ‘Your man said you’d followed two riders. Who were they?’
Zach heard hope in her voice. ‘I recognised only one. Your brother.’
‘Julian! You saw Julian?’ She stepped away from the wall, arms outstretched. ‘Where’s my brother?’
Zach reached for her and pulled her close. Her fists pummelled his chest. They slid to his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. Into his wound. He groaned.
‘What’s wrong?’ She sounded genuinely concerned.
Seth appeared from the shadows and rushed to his captain’s side. ‘You’re wounded!’
‘Slightly.’
Seth tugged away at the coat to expose a bloodied makeshift bandage. ‘Will it need stitches?’
Zach shook his head. ‘It can wait.’
‘What happened?’ cried Eloise. ‘Julian! Is he also hurt? What did you do to my brother?’
Zach held her upper arms firm. ‘No harm has befallen your brother.’
She slumped against him, weak with relief.
‘It is I,’ he added, ‘who came off second best. Your brother is swift with a sword.’
‘The skiff is ready,’ said Seth. ‘I’ll signal the ship to let them know we’re on our way. Doc needs to attend you immediately.’ He hurried off.
‘Ship?’ shrieked Eloise. ‘You never mentioned a ship!’
‘And yet you address me as Captain.’
‘But this’ – she spread her hands wide – ‘is not exactly a naval dockyard.’
‘Correct.’
‘Then …’ She hesitated, as if processing the information. ‘What is the purpose of your ship? What sort of dealings do you conduct without the protection of the law?’ A look of loathing transformed her expression. ‘Smuggling?’
Zach threw his head back and laughed, a sweet diversion from his painful shoulder. ‘You’ve an overactive imagination. You accuse me of being a horse thief, and now, the captain of a smuggling vessel? Give me more credit than that.’
‘You deserve credit for nothing!’
Zach vehemently rejected her remark. ‘If it helps ease your mind, then consider this. We stand at one of many isolated landing places well known to the smuggling brethren. My crew and I do not concern ourselves with the alcohol that lays weighted to the ocean beds. Nor do we disturb the contraband hidden deep inside these coastal caves.’
‘I’m not so sure, given your intimate knowledge of such goings on.’
‘My contacts know me not for smuggling, but for keeping their covert operations a secret.’
‘Oh? I’m sure you’re paid handsomely for your silence. No doubt with the money earned from their illegal imports.’
‘Not at all. In fact, we simply work together in keeping each other’s comings and goings a secret from the law.’
‘Then if you are not a horse thief, or a smuggler, what do you concern yourself with?’
Zach gave her a subtle shake. ‘You, Eloise. Among other matters.’ He’d been direct, honest. ‘In spite of what you might think, I’ve your best interests at heart.’
Her laughter bounced off the cave’s walls. Zach thought it music to his ears. A tune he could easily grow accustomed to. His lieutenant’s timely reappearance put everything into perspective.
Nothing and no one would deny Zach his revenge. It was time to leave.
Now.
He scooped Eloise up in his arms and strode to the water’s edge.
Her laughter broke off on a squeal. ‘What are you doing?’
He set his teeth against the shooting pain in his shoulder. ‘Taking you to the Justice.’
‘The what?’
‘My ship.’
Chapter Nine
Eloise had no time to protest. Her bottom hit the hard, wet, wooden thwart of a boat. It jerked from side to side with the movement of the men stepping aboard. Her hand shot out to grip the seat. Oars creaked and water lapped against the sides of the skiff, indicating their departure from dry land. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
She felt the wind increase as they moved away from the shore, tossing the boat on a choppy sea. Water sprayed her face, wetting her dress and blindfold. Her stomach convulsed at the thought of the deep water beneath them, of falling into it, and drowning in a cold watery grave.
The skiff thudded against something hard. She gasped. The ship?
Even if they were to safely board it, what hope had she of being rescued? Who would know where to find her? What would become of her? Despair overcame her at the loss of control over her destiny. A slapping noise made her jump.
‘Seth, secure the ropes to skiff and ship,’ the captain barked. He shouted to crewmen above, indicating their ascent.
Familiar, strong hands gripped her upper arms and brought her quickly to her feet. The skiff bobbed from side to side. Eloise clung to the captain’s steady support. Wind whipped her cold, clammy skirts, the fabric stinging her legs.
‘I’m going to climb the ship’s rope ladder,’ he said. ‘Hold onto me tight. Like this.’
Her chest pressed against his back. He pulled her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. ‘Now lift your legs and wrap them about my waist.’
‘I’ll do no such thing!’
‘You’ll do as I say.’ He bent his knees, reached behind her legs and lifted her up.
She squealed, her reflexes forcing her to adopt the very position he’d ordered.
He made a low guttural sound. ‘Be still. If you let go, you’ll be dipping more than your toes in the ocean.’
She froze. ‘I can’t swim!’
‘The captain will not let you fall.’ The lieutenant’s confident words did little to convince her.
‘Ready?’ asked the captain.
‘You leave me no choice!’
With each rung he climbed, Eloise acknowledged the effort it cost him. He hid the pain from his wound behind stifled grunts. With her added weight to bear, his shoulders flexed beneath her arms. Muscles in his back, as hard
as rock, moved against her breasts. Her thighs sensed the tension around his hips and abdomen.
His potent strength gave her reassurance, a reason to exhale the breath she’d held and freely draw another.
Until something snapped.
Her stomach lurched with the sickening shock of falling. Her scream died on a gasp. She tightened her hold on the captain and sucked in a deep breath, expecting to plunge into the cold, merciless sea. They smacked against the ship’s hull. The captain groaned. They’d survived the brief fall, though Eloise suspected they now dangled at an awkward angle.
Desperate shouts called to them from above. The captain groaned again and swore.
Her heart smacked against her ribs. ‘What’s happened?’
He ignored her, calling instead to the crewmen. ‘Hurry! It won’t hold much longer.’
‘Captain! If I’m going to die then at least prepare me.’
He had the audacity to laugh at her fear. ‘Promise me that no matter what, you will not let go of me.’
Her courage wavered. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Your promise!’
Terror paralysed her. He’d asked her to trust him. A man who’d robbed her of her family, her home, and now possibly her country. Even her life.
A crewman yelled a desperate plea. ‘The rope! Hurry, Captain!’
‘Eloise!’
The wind blew with force, intensifying the list and creaks of the ship. Something lashed the hull beside them. ‘Yes! Yes. All right.’
On the heels of her promise came the sensation of swinging like a pendulum. Slowly at first, then moving in a wider arc. She honoured her word and clung to him. Her life depended on it. She did not speak for fear of upsetting the captain’s focus on whatever the problem might be.
A shift in movement suggested he’d transferred their combined weight to another source. He groaned under the strain of his efforts. His body adjusted beneath hers. Corded muscles strained and hardened.
Gravity pulled her down. Letting go meant plunging into the water, or the skiff, flat on her back. Definitely not the preferred option.