by Shana Galen
“Get out of my way, Chante.”
His quartermaster outweighed him by two stone and was easily close to a foot taller than he, and if the man did not want to move, Nick would not be able to move him. “You the cap’n. I’ll check on the ship and report.”
“Get out of my way.”
“Cap’n—”
Nick flung his hat on the deck and pushed his pistol into Chante’s hands. “You’re the captain now, Chante. Out of my way!”
Chante gave him an uncomprehending look then stepped aside. Nick raced past him, his throat closing as the smoke swirled around him. He coughed, tried not to breathe, and pushed his way through wood and debris that should not have been there. Oh, God. Was the great cabin even there any longer? Had Rissa and Ashley been completely blown away?
“Ashley!” he bellowed, but his ears were ringing from the cannon fire and he could hear nothing but the thundering of his own heart. “Ashley!” he stumbled forward, tripping over God knew what in the darkness.
“Nick!”
Nick rushed forward, praying he hadn’t imagined the sound of her voice. The smoke grew thicker, and he tripped and fell against the wall. He reached his hands out, feeling his way along until he found an opening. He closed and then opened his eyes, seeing the blue of sky and ocean through the gap.
And also the flicker of flames.
The cabin was on fire. Ashley didn’t know what had happened. One moment she and Rissa had been clinging to each other, the little girl crying at the deafening sound of the cannon blast. The next moment, everything around them had exploded. She’d flown and come down hard, knocking her head and everything was blackness for a long moment.
She opened her eyes, seeing only darkness, and feeling a heaviness on top of her. She tried to push it off, then realized it was warm and pliable. “Rissa!”
The child didn’t answer, and the more Ashley moved, the more she realized something else, a board of some sort, was on top of them. With a grunt, she shoved it off, and pulled the little girl into her arms. On one side, she saw the windows of the great cabin had been blown away, along with a sizable section of the wall. On her other side, blocking her path to the door, flames, fanned by the breeze, burst to life.
Panic, hot and angry as the flames, seized her. She could do nothing but stare at the fire. She had not touched it, but she could smell the scent of burning flesh. Her flesh. She could feel the searing kiss of the flames on her skin, and she knew the pain, pain so sharp she had thought of dying rather than continue to live with it. Her leg throbbed in sympathy, her damaged flesh remembering well the agony it had suffered.
She did not know how long she sat, still as a statue, staring at the fire before the sound of her name roused her. Nick. Nick was calling for her. She blinked and glanced down at the weight in her arms. “Rissa?” She patted the child’s cheek. “Rissa!”
The girl didn’t move, but Ashley watched her chest rise and fall. She was still alive. There was still hope, slim as it may be. Still holding the girl, Ashley rose and stumbled toward the door. The heat from the flames pushed her back again. “Nick!” she called. “I’m in here. Nick!”
And then he was there. She could see his black hair in the opening beyond the flames, so close and yet impossible to reach. Their eyes met through the flickering flames, and she saw the determination in his eyes that she needed. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She was not giving up. She was not giving Death the last laugh.
“Fire!” Nick called. “Fire!” He disappeared from view again, and then he was back. “I’ll get you out, Ashley. We’ll get this fire out and you’ll be safe. Hold on.”
He was gone again, and then she heard something slam against the cabin door. Nick or his men were breaking it down. She stood and held Rissa close, clinging to the girl and to her slim chance at hope. But even as she watched, the fire grew in size and fury and her small spark dimmed.
Part of the cabin had been blown away, and the winds from the ocean and the movement of the ship urged the fire to new heights. As Ashley watched it engulfed more of the wall and began to creep across the ceiling.
The door flew in, and Nick stood on the other side, axe in hand, soot on his face, eyes burning. Seeming to sense the bounty that lay beyond, the fire whooshed toward him, and with a hand thrust up to ward off the heat, Nick stumbled back.
“Fire!” he screamed. “Get me water down here.” And then his gaze met hers again, but this time she didn’t see the determination. This time she saw fear.
Nick could see Ashley standing in what remained of his great cabin, cradling his daughter. Her face was pale and her blond hair hung about her soot-streaked face. He knew, for her, this was the nightmare come to life.
It was his nightmare as well. He could not reach her or Rissa. He could not hold them. He could not—no, he would save them. He had to. He moved toward the fire again, but it roared, pushing him back. If he went through it, then all three of them would be trapped in the cabin. He needed water. He needed men.
“Fire!” he bellowed again, and finally, finally, he spotted someone moving along the red-hued companionway. “Mr. Fellowes!”
“I’m coming, Captain—I mean, my lord.”
For a moment, Nick was confused, and then he remembered he’d given up command of the ship. Chante was captain now. Fellowes thrust a bucket of water in Nick’s hand, and he turned and doused the fire. There was a flicker from the beast, and then it roared back at him. “It’s going to take more than this,” he bellowed at Fellowes. “Where are the men and the rest of the water?”
“The battle,” Fellowes said, pointing aloft. “I was all Captain Chante could spare.”
Nick grabbed Fellowes’s arm and pulled him away from the heat and fury of the flames. “The battle?” Who gave a holy hell about the battle? But all of their lives hung in the balance. “Report, Mr. Fellowes.”
“He’s fallen off to port. Looks like he’s going to run away. You crippled him, Captain. Guns blown away, men down. But The Snake can still strike,” Fellowes said, his breath coming in quick gasps. The smoke was thick, and Nick knew in a few moments, it would be nearly impassable. “The Captain is turning the Robin Hood, going back for the kill.”
“Is the ship responding?” It had taken a direct hit to the stern, and Nick was surprised the rudder had not been damaged.
“Yes, my lord. We took heavy casualties and our portside guns are mostly gone. The ship may not hold up.”
If it did, and if the Robin Hood won the day, the crew would board The Snake, taking all the booty they could carry and putting Yussef’s men to the sword. It was no less than the pirate deserved after what he’d done to their families on Isla de las Riquezas. If Chante deemed Yussef’s ship sound, he would tow it as a prize. If not, he’d resign it to Davy Jones’ locker.
The crew of the Robin Hood would have to deal with the fire, of course. Fellowes would make his report, more men would be sent, but the smoke was growing thicker by the second. He could hear Ashley coughing. By the time the fire was doused, it might be too late for Ashley and Rissa. It might be too late for all of them if Chante went back to finish Yussef off. Nick knew the pirate’s tricks. He might look like a dog, limping along on three legs, but Yussef knew how to roll over and play dead, then spring to his feet and sink his teeth in.
If Chante attacked again, they risked a direct hit. At one time, Nick would have said that was the chance one took. That was the excitement of battle. Now, he did not want to risk it. He’d already risked Ashley and Rissa enough. He couldn’t chance losing them. He knew what it was like to lose the person he loved most in the world. He couldn’t let it happen again.
“Nick!” Ashley’s voice carried over the hiss of the flames, and Nick pushed away from Fellowes and moved back toward the heat of the fire.
“Nick!” she screamed, and he saw the problem immediately. The flames had moved inward, creeping toward her. With the sharp debris from the hit by The Snake behind her, she
had nowhere to go, and the fire was creeping toward her quickly, hungry and sensing easy prey. He couldn’t wait for more water. He couldn’t wait for Chante. He had to get her out now.
“Ashley!” he yelled over the crackle and rumble of the fire. “You have to come through it. Get out now.” He watched her face, watched his words take hold, watched as she clutched Rissa to her chest and shook her head in terror.
He was going to lose her. His beautiful, strong, adventurous Ashley. She could face anything—anything but this.
She couldn’t go through the flames. The man must be mad. They needed more water, more men to defeat the beast. It thundered and snarled like a storm or a creature of mythology. She could not go through it.
“Ashley!” Nick yelled over the grumble of the beast lapping at her feet. “There’s no time. You have to go through it.”
She shook her head. Even though she could see he was correct. The flames were closing in. If she stood there, she would die for certain. But she could not go through the fire. It was unthinkable. Her brain—her legs—revolted. Her eyes stung from the smoke, tears running down her cheeks. She looked at Nick and shook her head again.
His dark face, streaked with soot and ash, grew darker still. “That’s not a request, Ashley. Come through this fire now.”
He was ordering her to walk through fire. Of course he was. The man thought he was a god, obviously. But he couldn’t order her to face this nightmare. No one could.
“Did you hear me, Ashley? Walk to me. Now. I won’t lose you. Or Rissa.”
Rissa! She looked down at the child, limp in her arms. Her muscles had gone numb from the weight of the girl, and she barely felt it anymore. She didn’t even know if the girl lived. Ashley could barely breathe. She coughed and choked, but the small girl lay motionless in her arms. Perhaps she was already dead. Perhaps they both were.
“Ashley!” Nick screamed, and there was anguish in his voice. She’d never heard that tone in anyone’s voice, but she recognized it. It was the anguish of someone who loves and loses. He thought he was going to lose her—no, not her. It was Rissa he loved.
But she loved him. If she stood here the fire would win. She would resign herself to the fate she’d feared for so long, the fate that had roused her from sleep with a scream on her lips time and time again. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t let the fire win. It had almost taken her leg. It would not take her life.
She would probably die. There was no way she would live if she walked through those flames, but she had to try. She wanted to die trying. She looked around and spotted the blanket that had been on the bed. One edge of it was caught on the sharp point of a piece of the ship that had been blown apart by the blast. She crossed to it, and yanked.
The blanket did not move and the fire seemed to rear up, howling at her in fury at her puny attempts to escape its wrath. She adjusted Rissa’s weight and tugged again, this time freeing the blanket, but almost stumbling into the angry fire behind her. The flames crept closer, and she was perspiring now, choking on the smoke and the sheer heat of it.
“Ashley!”
She heard Nick’s voice, faint and far away, over the rumble of the beast. She could no longer see him through the flames and smoke. But the cabin was small. She could reach him. She had to.
“I’m coming,” she yelled, her voice hoarse and weak from the smoke. She threw the blanket over her head, covering her hair and draping it over Rissa. It left her skirts and her legs exposed, but there was nothing for it. She was nauseous with fear, her belly roiling, the nerves in her leg throbbing with sympathy pain. She took a moment to steady herself, to still the panic, the dizziness, the churning of her belly. And then with a scream of sheer terror, she ran.
The fire swiped at her with razor sharp claws that seared her as they raked her skin. The smoke blinded her eyes and gripped her throat until the vise was so tight she did not think she would ever breathe again. In the center of the flames, the heat pushed back at her, its intensity like a wall, but she pushed forward. She could not stop.
She kept screaming as she stumbled through the nightmare. It was worse than she had ever imagined, the hot red flames snarling and hissing at her. She was in the center of it all, and there was no escape. Her flesh began to smoke and shrink. And still she screamed, even when she fell through the doorway and into the companionway, black with smoke. She screamed when strong arms caught her up and pressed down on her arms and legs painfully. She screamed when Rissa’s weight was taken from her arms. She screamed and screamed until finally she was engulfed in the warmth of Nick’s arms, his smell, his strength.
Only then did she cease screaming, and only then did she realize it had been a silent scream all along.
He carried her up the ladder and to the deck, laying her on the wooden planks and using his shirtsleeve to wipe the soot from her nose and mouth. She was alive. From what he could see, she was unharmed, although a bit singed here and there. Her clothes were smoking, but he’d beaten the embers back before they could explode into flames.
Ashley turned on her side and coughed, great hacking coughs that both alarmed and assured him. She was going to live. Nick looked at Mr. Fellowes, who’d laid Rissa beside Ashley. The little girl was not moving. “She’s breathing,” Fellowes said. “The blanket protected her.” It was still wrapped about her small body, and Nick dragged it off, using a corner to wipe the child’s face. She moaned quietly, and Nick pulled her into his arms, keeping her face free so she could breathe.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured. “I have you.”
Several men had gathered about, and Nick barked at them. “Fire! Bring water and put it out before it spreads.”
The men jumped to do his bidding, and Nick let out a breath. They were safe.
Except they were not safe. He rose and peered out at the ocean. They’d raced past The Snake, but Chante was turning the ship about. The Robin Hood was returning for more, returning for the kill. This time the wind was not on their side. Several members of his crew lay bleeding on the deck, victims of the chain and shrapnel Yussef had lobbed at them. And there was the fire to consider as well. If the men did not control it, Yussef would not have to lift a finger to sink Nick’s ship.
His ship….it wasn’t his ship any longer. He’d given it to Chante, and Chante was doing exactly what Nick would have done. He was going back to finish Yussef. Except that when Nick looked down at the child in his arms, when he looked at the woman lying on the deck beside him, he knew he would never have ordered the Robin Hood to go back. He would have taken his ship and run to safety. Yussef wasn’t worth the risk of taking a direct hit. The Barbary pirate’s ship was not completely compromised. Yussef still had maneuverability and at least half his guns. Nick could see the corsair rally his men to man the guns on the portside, where the Robin Hood would pass and fire again. He would be armed and ready.
The ship was no longer his, but he couldn’t allow Chante to go back. Nick thrust Rissa back into Mr. Fellowes’s arms and stood. Several long strides later, he stood beside Chante and Mr. Carey on the bow.
“Report,” Chante barked.
Nick almost laughed. Just an hour ago, he’d been the one barking orders. How quickly he had fallen. “Direct hit to the stern, but Mr. Fellowes says the rudder is intact.”
Chante nodded as though he knew this.
“I sent men to extinguish the fire.”
“I need dem,” Chante said.
“You need a ship, not a burned out husk. I want control of the Robin Hood back.”
Chante and the ship’s carpenter whipped their heads from the view of the seas to Nick. He held up a hand and motioned Chante to step aside with him. “I know I relinquished command, but I want it back. Either that, or I want you to order the vessel to turn and head for Gibraltar.” He raised his voice so the crew could hear. “The damage to the Robin Hood is substantial. The rudder is weak, and half the crew is wounded or dead. Look at Yussef. He isn’t without defenses. “<
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“No,” Chante said without preamble. “We agreed we’d go after Yussef. The men are owed a prize and the spoils.” He pitched his voice low. “If you deny them—”
He didn’t say mutiny. He was too intelligent to even breathe such a word, but he didn’t have to. Nick knew what he was and where. A pirate captain was not the same as an officer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. A pirate captain served at the pleasure of his crew. He was elected, and he could just as quickly be forced to walk the plank. “I know,” Nick said. “But I can’t risk them.” He nodded to Ashley and Rissa, both of whom were now sitting up on deck. Ashley was rising. “I cannot do it any more.”
“You’ve gone soft,” Chante said. “Yussef was your target.”
“And it’s my choice to release my arrow elsewhere. Go after him if you want. Hell, go after more lucrative prey, but let me go. I’ll give you the ship and free and clear. I’m done with it.”
Chante stared at him. Nick didn’t want to beg, but he’d do it if necessary. “Mr. Chante—Chante, you and I have been through too much for you to deny me one request. I’ve made you a rich man, and now I offer you a ship of your own.”
“If the men will have me after I lose this prize.” He gestured to The Snake, and Nick knew the struggle he waged. It went against his own nature to turn away from such easy prey, but he had more to live for now.
“They’d be fools not to,” he said. “Save the ship and your men while you still can. Don’t make me beg, Chante.” His gaze was locked on Chante’s dark eyes, when the new captain’s gaze moved past him.
“What’s going on?” Ashley asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Nick resisted the urge to look at her, resisted the urge to take her into his arms. He kept his focus on Chante, whose gaze went from Ashley to Nick.
“Stand down,” Chante bellowed. “Set a course for Gibraltar.”
Ashley gasped, and Nick couldn’t resist a smile. “I owe you, Chante. I still know a few men in the navy offices, I’ll call in some favors.”