Falcon's Angel

by Judith E. French

  She spun and kicked him squarely in the knee, following up with a hard left hook to the throat. He came in fast, wrapping her in a bear hug, and pinning her arms.

  She stopped fighting. "You're hurting me!"

  The instant he loosened his hold, she wiggled her left hand free and slammed the base of her palm into his chin.

  "Stop it! Don't make me hurt you!" he yelled, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back.

  Panting for breath, Angel brought up one knee, smashing into his inner thigh, missing her target by a thumb's length. "Bastard!" She butted her head into his chin, freed her right hand, and went for his eyes. "Let me go!"

  Will grabbed her other wrist, pinned both over her head, and tripped her. They landed in a tangle of berry bushes, and Angel felt the bite of thorns on her arms and legs.

  "Be still!" he said.

  She sank her teeth into his arm.

  "That's it!" he bellowed as he rose on his knees, straddling her, and bearing her to the ground. "I'll swear I'll knock you senseless!"

  Trapped, realizing the futility of further struggle, she lay, sucking in gasps of air and glaring at him. "I'll put the evil eye on you. I will! I'll make ye wish you'd never been—"

  Will clapped a broad hand over her mouth. "Shut up. One more word, and I'll wring your neck." He spat out blood.

  She tried to curse him, but she could only make muffled garbling noises. Then she grew silent and nipped him again.

  Will whipped his hand away. His blue eyes hardened as he saw the teeth marks she'd left on him. "I'm doing this for you," he said.

  She saw to her satisfaction that he was breathing as hard as she was. "I warn you, if I get the chance, I'll put a knife in your back."

  "Not a chance in hell," he said. "Whether you want it or not, I'm saving your life."

  Chapter 11

  "Let me out of here, you black-hearted son of a sea cook!" Angel's muffled shouts, interspersed with loud pounding, seeped through the cracks around the main hatch cover to the underside of the deck.

  Martin Hiron drained the last drops from the whiskey jug, belched, and tossed the crockery container over the side. "Sweet temper, yer wife has—from the looks of your face." Snorting at his crude attempt at humor, Martin lurched onto a coil of rope and leaned back against the mast. "What she needs," he slurred, sucking at a rotten tooth, "is a man who'll teach her a few manners."

  "The lookers is always bitches," Archie agreed from his place at the tiller. He watched the jug sink with a sorrowful expression. "A waste, wouldn't ye say, brother?"

  Jarvis groaned and didn't answer. Then his face turned a deeper blotchy green, and he hung over the rail retching dry heaves.

  "True words, cousin, true words," Martin said. "Give me an ugly woman anytime. Ain't no difference in the dark, and the uglies is grateful."

  Will snugged off a line and wondered if he'd traded an island Eden for the vessel from hell. Martin appeared to be of no better character than the Gunn brothers. The three together wouldn't make a decent sailor. The sloop was sound enough, but the three men were obviously landlubbers, making their story of hauling cargo to Savannah ring false. None of them looked substantial enough to own a sloop like this, which meant they were thieves or worse.

  And he'd brought Angel onto this boat and put her at the mercy of scoundrels. The question plagued him: Had he done it for her or because he couldn't bear to leave her behind?

  "Yep, she's a rarin' bitch, all right," Archie said.

  Will straightened and fixed him with a steely glare. "I'd take it as a personal favor if you'd not refer to my wife as a bitch." On the streets of Charleston... hell, in any harbor on the Caribbean, he would have called a man out for insulting a woman he was with. But he couldn't allow himself the luxury of showing how angry he was. He'd come aboard unarmed, and Martin wore a pistol on his hip. If he acted in haste or recklessly, Angel would pay the price as well as he.

  Archie laughed. "What? Them was love taps she give ya?"

  "Touchy, ain't he?" Martin pawed through the black hair that matted his exposed chest, captured a fat louse, and cracked it between furred, broken incisors. "Fooken little devils," he muttered. "Worse'n skeeters."

  "Let me out!" Angel demanded. "I can't breathe!"

  "Let her out of there or knock her senseless," Archie advised. "She keeps up thet thrashin', she'll kick a hole in the hull."

  Will looked back in the direction of Huskanaw. Once he'd seen the true state of affairs on the sloop, he'd not wanted to tie her. And had she been able to see her island, he had no doubt it would have taken more than the four of them to keep her from diving overboard. Satisfied that she'd not be foolish enough to try the stunt out of sight of land, he crossed to the hatch and slid back the wooden bolt.

  Angel erupted out of the hold, hair tangled, red-faced, and eyes hot enough to melt the brass fittings on the gunnel.

  Behind him, Will heard Archie's sharp intake of breath, and he wanted to kill him for thinking just what he was thinking.

  Angel shoved the hair out of her eyes and looked wildly around. For a few seconds, Will thought she might fly at him again with fists and teeth, but she surprised him. With almost regal dignity, she turned to the rail and surveyed the empty horizon on all sides.

  She was trembling from crown to toe. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. The knuckles of both hands were raw and seeping blood.

  "Angel." Will took a few steps toward her.

  She glanced at him as though he were a stranger. "How could ye?" Her soft voice cut through him like a cannonball through canvas.

  "Try to understand."

  "How could you just carry me off, as if I was a side of bacon?"

  "I did what was necessary." Will moved closer. "There's no time. We'll discuss it later." His back was turned to the others, so that only she could see his face. Be careful, he mouthed silently.

  "Aye." Her eyes narrowed, and Will read not simply a woman's anger, but something darker and more dangerous. "Aye, husband," she murmured.

  Ice frosted his spine. Maybe she is a pirate, he thought. As ruthless and as capable as any brigand would be of running me through with cold steel.

  "Need help?" Martin offered. "The ladies always favors me 'cause—"

  "'Cause he's hung like a Jersey bull," Archie finished.

  Jarvis slid to his knees and laid his head against the gunnel. Drool dribbled from the corner of his slack mouth as he twitched and belched.

  "These gentlemen have promised us passage to Charleston," Will said, ignoring the seasick Jarvis. "Although, if we get a chance, we'll leave them sooner."

  Dismissing him with a glance that would have withered iron, Angel retreated to the bow of the boat.

  "Strange one, ain't she?" Archie said.

  Will forced a nod. "Show me a woman that's not." His knuckles ached to smash that leering mouth.

  Martin hauled himself up from the coil of rope, groped his cod, and staggered toward Angel.

  Will slammed a hand into the man's shoulder and gripped tightly. "Stay away from my wife," he warned. "You're being well compensated for taking us where we want to go. And she's not included in the deal."

  "Didn't say she was." Martin belched again, and Will nearly gagged as a wave of stench enveloped him.

  If Martin had ever owned a bar of soap, it didn't show. His woolen breeches were so caked with dirt and filth that it was impossible to tell what color they had originally been or what held them together.

  Chalky spots of rage rose on the drunkard's cheekbones, and he focused bloodshot eyes. "Mighty high for an unarmed man." Martin tapped the butt of his handgun. "Don't think I don't know how to use this, neither."

  "I want there to be no misunderstanding between us, Mr. Hiron," Will said. "If you so much as speak to my wife, I'll stuff that pistol up your ass, chop you into bite-sized pieces, and use you for chum."

  Martin took the better part of a moment to consider the statement, then blinked. "No 'fense, sir. Jest
bein' friendly to yer missus."

  "Don't bother."

  Archie guffawed as Martin wandered back to his coil of rope and plopped down. Jarvis was sick again, hanging so far over the side of the sloop that Will thought he might lose his balance and topple in.

  Stepping carefully around Jarvis, Will joined Angel at the bow. "We need to talk."

  She continued to stare over the bowsprit. Her expression didn't change, and she gave no indication that she'd heard him. Will seized her hand, yanked her to her feet, and clamped a restraining arm around her shoulder. She moved woodenly, like a ship's figurehead just come to life.

  "I know you're angry," he said, "but this is for the best."

  "Why? Without so much as a by your leave? Without askin' me would I go with ye?" Her lilting words came in a whisper, as tightly controlled as her rigid body. Each word struck him another blow.

  "You know why." He forced her around to face him, shielding her face from their hosts to keep their conversation private. Then he leaned close and murmured in her ear. "If I left you, you'd suffer the same fate as the rest when the authorities came to settle with them."

  She jerked away from his touch and stared full into his eyes. For an instant a shutter raised and he read the full force of her despair. "What do ye mean to do with me?" she begged, tears welling up.

  Shame and need warred inside him. "Angel, try to—"

  "Nay." She shook her head. "Don't tell me you've decided to have me to wife. I'm not so green as to think that. If you'd not do it on the island, you'll not—"

  "No." He frowned, wondering why he, a man who prided himself on always speaking the truth, found this so difficult. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you. Don't worry, I'll protect you."

  "Why not? A handfast marriage is easily made and easily broken. You owe me nothin'."

  "Nothing but my life."

  "Then you could have repaid me by leavin' me among my own kind."

  "And see you stand trial for piracy? I couldn't do that, Angel, despite this." He indicated his battered face and his voice hardened. "Don't ever raise your hand to me again. Even I have my limits."

  "You got what you deserved." She placed her hands on his chest and tried to push him away. "Take me back."

  "It's not going to happen."

  She made a small sound of distress. "Four walls won't hold me. You have to sleep, and when you do..."

  Will's gut knotted. "You don't understand what's best for you."

  "And you do?"

  He'd known this wouldn't be easy. Why hadn't he simply gone with the Gunn brothers when he'd had the chance? He'd almost done it; but in the end, he'd had to go back for her. He'd tried to tell himself that Angel was one more debt he couldn't leave unpaid. But what if that wasn't the reason? And what if his lust got her killed? "When they arrest the Brethren, they won't be particular. They won't spare the women. And the penalty for piracy is death."

  She scoffed. "If you're so wary of pirates, how could you bring me aboard this boat? Do ye think these be honest men?"

  "I can handle them."

  "Can ye now?" she taunted him. "Ye could barely handle one woman."

  He stiffened, feeling the red tide of anger sweep through him. "Curb your barbed tongue, or I'll forget you're a wench."

  Her eyes flashed defiance. "I was but askin' a fair question."

  "Later. We've bigger problems."

  "Three of them?"

  "I've seen no weapons on the sloop, other than Martin's pistol and the knife in Archie's belt sheath."

  "Three men to one be not the best odds, even for a Charleston man."

  "I've faced worse."

  "Braggart," she taunted. "Mayhap you mean to do a little buccaneering yourself? Take the ship?"

  "I intend to do whatever it takes to get us both home safely."

  "Not home for me." Her words came soft but bitter. "I'm island bred. There's no place for me among your fine houses and brick-paved streets."

  "I'll not desert you," he promised. "For the sake of what you've—"

  "I want no thanks. When I married you, it was as much to gain my own freedom as win ye yours." She pushed his hand off her shoulder. "You betrayed me, Will Falcon, and I won't forget it."

  "We'll argue about this when we get to Charleston. Now, I need your help."

  "Aye." She nodded. "I'll help ye take the ship away from them if you'll take me back to Huskanaw."

  "You're coming with me. Stay close, and keep watch. See if you can put your hands on a knife. There's bound to be one."

  "Aye, there is that," she agreed. "I can't tell you what was in the cargo hold. It was dark and packed tight."

  "Would you rather I'd tied you hand and foot? You came to no harm there." She turned her face away, and he took hold of her chin and turned it back. "This is important. If there are weapons, they'll be below in the cuddy."

  "All right," she murmured. "I'm with you—for now. But once we land..."

  "In Charleston."

  "When we land, you'd best put chains on me. For if ye don't, whatever happens is on your head."

  * * *

  It was dusk and the wind was kicking up before Angel found the opportunity to slip down the ladder to the small compartment that passed as a cabin. The men were occupied. Will had secured the sails and was taking his turn at the helm. The three rascals were forward. Archie and Martin had their heads together; Jarvis lay on the deck moaning, holding his belly. Angel didn't think she'd ever seen anyone so seasick on five-foot chops.

  She hesitated halfway down, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the dim light. Her heart was thudding, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, not so much from the danger she and Will were in, although she knew it to be very real. It was her husband and what he had done that frightened her. She didn't know whether to be furious with him or glad that he had brought her.

  Being close to Will was unnerving. The scent of him—the feel of his hand on her body brought out something wild inside her. Having him near her made her think of lying under him with the weight of his long legs tangled in hers and his fingers touching her most private places.

  But he hadn't asked her to go with him. He'd taken her by force. That was what stung most of all. He had simply made the decision. And by doing so, he'd ruined everything. For as much as she valued Will Falcon, she valued herself more. And after a lifetime of making her own choices, she wasn't about to surrender that right to an arrogant outlander.

  But thinking that through could wait. Will had sent her to find a weapon, and she couldn't fail him.

  The cubby looked as though a hurricane had already passed over it. Blankets and tools were heaped up all catawampus. Rice and dried beans spilled out of torn sacks, and articles of clothing were scattered.

  "Where you going, girl?" Archie called. "Ain't nothing of yers down there. Get topside."

  Angel began to dig through the mess. She heard Will's voice and then Archie's again. She heaved a pile of stuff off the single bunk and went suddenly cold as her hand brushed a damp, sticky spot on the mattress.

  An unpleasant sensation skittered down her spine. She pushed aside the pillow to find a dark, pumpkin-shaped stain on the threadbare mattress. The pillow landed upside down on her foot, and her breath caught in her throat. The underside of the pillow was soaked in the same foul-smelling substance.

  "Woman!"

  That voice was Martin's, the man with the pistol, and he was right overhead. If he found her here...

  Swiftly, she scooped up an armload of blankets and dropped them back on the bunk. Then she turned and started back up the ladder. At the last second, she spied a tangle of fishing line, grabbed it, and stuffed it in her bodice.

  Will had tied off the tiller and was just outside the hatchway. Archie and Martin, red-faced and hostile, advanced on them.

  Will flashed her a grin. "See. She didn't disturb anything."

  "That there's captain's quarters," Archie snapped. "You got no business down the
re."

  Angel noticed that his hand hovered close to his knife. "Beg pardon," she said, trying to keep her voice from cracking. "I was looking for something to cook for supper."

  "Our agreement was to carry you to Charleston," Archie added. "Nothing was said about feeding either one of you."

  She felt the men's eyes boring through her. They know what's on that pillow, she thought. And now, I'm sure of what it is as well. Blood.

  She edged nearer to Will. "I meant to cook for all of us," she said. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

  "This here ain't no tavern," Archie continued. "We wasn't expecting company to feed, let alone no wife... if you are his wife, which I got my doubts."

  "We're married," Angel replied.

  "I don't see no weddin' ring on your finger," Martin said. "Most married women got rings. Hope yer not lyin' to us."

  Archie wiped his mouth with the back of his filthy hand. "I can't abide a liar." His fingers tightened on the handle of his knife. The blade hissed from the leather sheath.

  "Well, I reckon buyin' me a ring's something my Will can see to when we get to Charleston. Isn't that so, Will?"

  "Get back on the tiller," Archie ordered Will. His eyes flicked to hers. "Not you, sweet thing." He reached for her as Martin drew his pistol and aimed it at Will.

  "Get back down in thet cabin, woman," Archie said. "I've a hankering to see if you taste as good as ya look."

  Chapter 12

  Angel dodged Archie, dug into her bodice, and hurled the wad of fishing line and sinker at Martin's head. The lead weight struck him between the eyes as Will dove for the gun.

  Angel didn't stop. She tried to put the tiller between her and Archie, but he slashed at her with the knife. A burning sensation seared her left arm.

  Sky, sea, and waves seemed suddenly suspended in air. Vaguely, Angel was aware of Will and Martin rolling on the deck, locked in combat. She felt the gusting wind and the splash of spray on her face and smelled the mingling odors of salt and tar and blood. He cut me, she thought. I'm bleeding.

  But her fear was gone, replaced with cool reason, reason that did not desert her when Archie's fingers bit into her arm. He yanked her toward him. But instead of resisting, she spun and threw her full weight into his chest.