Falcon's Angel

by Judith E. French

  "No, I do not." The crisp reply was followed immediately by a softening of the older woman's features. "You give me pleasure, child. Surely, you can see that. You've brought this house alive."

  Angel took a sip from her glass. The blackberry wine was warm on her tongue; sweet, but not overly so. Nervously, she took another sip.

  Lady Graymoor brought a small teakwood chest from her dressing table and opened the domed lid. Angel's mouth dropped open in astonishment. The box was filled to the brim with glittering jewelry: rings, bracelets, brooches, necklaces—all bright gold, silver, and sparkling gems.

  "Do you like my pretties?" the countess asked. She unrolled a velvet cloth and lifted a string of creamy pearls. "These were once part of the dowry of a Spanish infanta."

  "They're lovely."

  "Stones. Metal," Lady Graymoor said. "Better displayed on a young body than on an old, shriveled one."

  Angel looked up, uncertain what to say.

  "If you were my granddaughter, these would all be yours."

  Angel shook her head. "I'm not, ma'am. I wish I was, but I cannot lie to you."

  "There is more, much more. My husband's title passes to a distant male heir, but he left his vast wealth to our Elizabeth."

  "It changes nothing. Maybe your Elizabeth's still out there someplace, waiting for you to find her."

  "Do you realize what you're turning down?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing, my lady. I'm not Elizabeth Graymoor. I'm just Angel."

  "Butler, child. My husband's family name is Butler. He was Earl of Graymoor, and my son, Henry Butler was the Viscount Kemsley."

  "But... how is it that you're Lady Graymoor, if your husband's name is really Butler?"

  Lady Graymoor chuckled. "Silly, isn't it. But it is the way things are done, the way they've always been. But I was born Elizabeth Parker, daughter of a country vicar." Still smiling, she returned the pearls to the chest and closed the lid. "One thing I'm certain of, you're no pirate."

  "I keep telling Will that, but I fear he doesn't believe me."

  Lady Graymoor yawned. "Go on, then. Go to your bed. It is late and past time this old woman was asleep."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, sorry I can't be her."

  "Yes." The countess's eyes looked sad. "Aren't we all?"

  * * *

  When she was in her room and all the house asleep, Will came to her and asked what Lizzy had wanted.

  "To show me her baubles, jewels, and such," Angel replied.

  "I think she'd like to believe you're her lost granddaughter."

  "I won't, because it's not so."

  He kissed her and led her back to the bed. "Did you tell her about us?"

  "No."

  "It's time." He kissed her throat and trailed kisses down her shoulder. "Lizzy's no fool. She'll be hurt if we don't tell her before she figures it out herself."

  "Not yet," she replied. "Just let's wait another day. Just one more."

  "One more day, woman, but that's it."

  They whispered and teased each other long into the night. But Will refused to take their lovemaking further than kissing and touching.

  "Not under Lizzy's roof," he said. "She trusts me. It's bad enough that I've deceived her by courting you without telling her. I'll not seduce you under her roof."

  "Seduce me? Is that what you've done, sailor?" she replied when she was light-headed with his kisses. "It seems to me that I've seduced you."

  "All the same, wench, Lizzy must know that I mean to make an honest woman of you."

  The following day, they rode out on horseback again. Without speaking of it, they had come to an agreement to spend evenings with Lady Graymoor and Griffin and nights alone in each other's arms.

  Often, when he came at night, Will brought her foolish little gifts that she treasured beyond counting: a dried turtle shell, a hummingbird nest, a single lady slipper blossom, and a piece of sugarcane. And she would tell him stories of the coast, ghost tales, and accounts of terrible storms, and old riddle games that had been passed down from mother to child from across the Atlantic.

  She never tired of hearing Will's seafaring accounts. He told her of hand-to-hand combat with Spanish soldiers, of head-hunting Indians in the Indies, and of water so clear and blue that you could see coral out-croppings ten fathoms deep as easily as if you could stretch out your hand and touch them.

  Two weeks passed, and then a third. Will did not press her about setting the date for the wedding, and she did not mention the Brethren to him. And secretly, she began to hope that he had changed his mind about seeking revenge for his father's death.

  With each day, the sun grew hotter, until even the rain and the limp breezes off the river seemed heated on God's hearth-fires. But the steaming humidity meant little to Angel. Will Falcon and their time together was everything that mattered.

  ... Until the morning she awoke and looked out her bedroom window to see him leading the black horse out of the barn. "Will! Will!" She waved frantically. "Wait for me!" Snatching up the men's breeches she'd worn riding the day before, she tugged them on and looked for a shirt. Finding it on the floor beside the bed, she pulled the garment over her head and climbed out the window onto the tree branch.

  She pushed off and dropped the last seven feet to the ground. Scrambling up, she dashed to Will's side. "Where are you going?" she demanded. "Why didn't you wake me?"

  She expected his face to split in a grin. She wanted to see him laugh and explain that he wasn't going away. There was a reasonable explanation for his actions. But he didn't smile. When he looked at her, his face was nearly expressionless, his eyes hard.

  "Are you leaving me?" She had been poised to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she took a step backward. "Are you weary of me? Have ye realized you've made a mistake?"

  He reached for her, but she shook her head. Icy cobwebs of fear prickled her spine.

  "Angel."

  "No!" She wanted to run, but she knew that her knees wouldn't hold her. "Just be man enough to say it."

  His eyes narrowed. "A rider came last night from Richard Hamilton. The fleet is assembled and ready to sail from Charleston in two days."

  "The Brethren. You're going to hunt down the Brethren."

  "I never tried to hide it from you." His words sliced sharp as a filleting knife. "It changes nothing between us."

  "It changes everything."

  "They're pirates. They've sent too many ships, too many innocent men and women to a watery grave. If I don't go, then I take responsibility for the next deaths on my soul."

  "I'm one of the Brethren," she answered hotly. "How could you lie with me, if you thought me a murderer?"

  Will set one foot in the stirrup and mounted the gelding. "Open your eyes, Angel. See the truth you're so fond of. Dyce, Nehemiah, and your captain are common thieves and cutthroats. No matter how much I love you, I have to see this through. I promise you there will be no wholesale killings. I'm going to see that they have a fair trial."

  "And hanging?" she demanded. "What kind of fair trial will they get from mainlanders? It's the gallows for all of them, and ye well know it!"

  "Not all. Sometimes even the guilty find mercy under the law."

  She swore a foul oath. "Could you put a rope around my mother's neck?"

  "If we find them, and if they surrender, I'll bring them back alive. That's all I can promise you. The Outer Banks have been lawless too long."

  "If you go, it's over between us!"

  "This doesn't have to be, Angel. I want you for my wife."

  "Then don't be part of this witch-hunt."

  "Ask me for anything else."

  "Good-bye, Will Falcon."

  Two of Delphi's sons, two tall daughters, and a robust grandson in his teens approached and circled her.

  Angel glanced at them uneasily as suspicion curled in the pit of her stomach. "What is this?" she demanded.

  "I've hired them to keep watch over you while I'm gone," Will said. "By day and by night,
to see that you do nothing foolish."

  "You think I'd try to get there ahead of you? To warn them?" she said, realizing with a sickening jolt that she'd made a terrible mistake. She'd waited too long before making her escape, and now the Brethren might pay with their lives for her error in judgment.

  Will shook his head. "I think neither God nor Lucifer could stop you from trying."

  "Ye cannot hold me prisoner here!" she cried.

  "Confine her to the house for three days," Will ordered. "She is not to be harmed, but if she sets one foot out the door, you'll receive not a cent of payment."

  Angel's hands tightened into fists at her side. Her nails cut into her palms, but she didn't feel the pain. "Three days," she repeated. "Until it's too late."

  Will's only answer was to slap the horse's neck with the reins and canter away down the rutted lane.

  Angel watched him until he vanished around a bend, then slowly slipped to her knees in the hard-packed dirt. Her eyes burned, but she couldn't weep. Her pain and sense of betrayal was too deep for tears. Instead, she locked her arms around her knees and rocked silently back and forth until the hollow ache inside had turned to frost.

  Chapter 25

  Will's ride to Charleston was an uneasy one. He was plagued by memories of the stricken expression on Angel's face and the hurt and angry look in her eyes when they'd parted. His decision to put her under lock and key for a few days had been the final insult, and he couldn't help wondering if she'd ever be able to forgive him.

  He'd waited so long for this chance to put an end to a long and bloody chapter of piracy, but he feared the price he'd have to pay for duty would be high. Sailing with the fleet might destroy Angel's love for him and shatter any future happiness.

  And if he lost her, he knew he'd never take a wife at all. For loving Angel had spoiled him for any other woman.

  He hated to hurt her by placing those she cared for in mortal danger, but there was no altering the course he'd set for himself. As a Falcon, and Nicholas's son, he could do no less than keep his pledge to destroy the coastal robbers.

  When he reached Charleston, Will rode immediately to Richard Hamilton's office near the docks. There, Richard gave him command of his heavily armed schooner, the Santee Lady. The merchants, militiamen, and captains had assembled with the expectation that Richard would act as leader. But due to his worsening heart condition, Dr. Madison refused to allow him to accompany the force.

  To Will's surprise, those in authority elected him to stand in Richard's place. The vote was unanimous except for Edward Mason's vocal protest. Mason was overruled, and the fleet of nine ships sailed north on a foggy Tuesday morning.

  * * *

  Seventeen days later, the Santee Lady and six other vessels returned victoriously to Charleston Harbor. Richard Hamilton, face pale and drawn, was waiting for Will on the dock. Will gave a few final orders to his crew and hurried down the gangplank.

  "Richard? How are you?" Will knew he was sorely in need of a bath and a change of clothing, but Julia's father was leaning on a walking stick, looking as if he'd aged ten years.

  "Did you find them?" Richard demanded as his servant opened the door to his carriage. "Damned foolish when a man cannot walk a few blocks. But that cursed physician overreacts, and Julia frets over me like a mother hen."

  Will followed his employer into the vehicle. "You look as though you should be abed," he said once he'd taken a seat across from the older man. "I would have come to the house."

  "I could wait no longer. Speak up, man. Did you take the pirates unawares? What are our losses? Did you bring back prisoners?"

  "We suffered two deaths, and four wounded. One of the dead men is a seaman named Brickett, off the Janet. He has no family that anyone knows of. Three pirates dead, two wounded, one not likely to survive. We took seven prisoners, two of them women."

  "You found no more than that? You scoured the beaches clean?"

  Will nodded. "I'm certain of it. Captains Joel McCarthy and Brian Connor stayed behind with their crews to continue the search. I expected more resistance, but I fear they may have been warned and fled beforehand. We burned their settlement. A few women with small children escaped in the confusion, but I doubt we'll have serious problems from them for years to come."

  "Where are the prisoners?"

  "The men are aboard Thomas Williams's Triumph. I have the two women under lock and key in the master's cabin of the Santee Lady. I'm acquainted with one of them. The city jail's not set up to provide for female prisoners. I'll try to find suitable quarters to hold them for trial."

  Richard's breathing was labored, and he leaned back against the headrest. Will's concern for him grew with every moment's passing.

  "You said we'd lost two men," Richard said as the coachman turned the team onto Broad Street. "Who else?"

  Will met his gaze. "Edward Mason."

  "Mason?" Richard shook his head in disbelief. When he began to wheeze, he took out a handkerchief and held it to his mouth.

  "Edward insisted on leading the south attack on the pirates' camp. He was killed saving Guy's life."

  "Mason dead? I would have sworn these were his minions. Killed by a stray bullet?"

  Will shook his head. "No. He took a cutlass blow to his neck. If he was known to any of the pirates, it wasn't obvious to any of us. Maybe we misjudged him."

  "Nonsense. His death proves nothing. There's too much evidence against him. Someone's been alerting that scum to which Charleston ships are carrying valuable cargo. Only a man with inside knowledge would have that information. And Mason's vessels were the only ones never attacked. Not once in all these years."

  "I keep telling myself that," Will said. "I've suspected him all along. But not knowing for certain..."

  "His death spares us bringing him to trial for piracy."

  "True enough." Mason's death troubled him more than he ever expected. "I imagine George will take over the shipping—"

  "George hasn't what it takes to run the company. He'll sell out. Doubtless, I can secure a few of his vessels at a reasonable price."

  "The only ship I'm interested in right now is the Katherine. I want command of her, if I still have a job."

  The coachman reined in the animals in front of Hamilton's house. Richard looked at Will. "I can't pretend that I'm not disappointed about you and Julia. You're making a huge mistake."

  "The mistake would be to marry. We aren't suited for each other."

  "And that red-haired adventurer—"

  "Don't say another word, if you value our friendship." Will threw open the door. "I've asked Angel to marry me. If that's a problem, I'll find other—"

  "It's because of our friendship that I'm speaking out. Damn it, Will. Think of what you're doing. You can't be blinded by the money. You of all people—"

  "What money? What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Lady Graymoor's fortune. What else? All of Charleston is talking about it. The countess is making the jade her legal heir."

  "There must be some mistake. Angel wouldn't—"

  "There's no mistake. Lady Graymoor has sent out invitations to half the county for this Saturday. She's giving a ball in honor of her granddaughter's return from the dead."

  * * *

  Will completed his duties and secured both the women prisoners and his ship before joining Tom Humphreys and Joseph Fisher at Dixon's. And there, for the first time in months, he got royally drunk.

  Becoming highly intoxicated was difficult for him, because in his years aboard ship he'd learned to drink vast quantities of bad liquor, go without sleep, and turn out for duty before dawn. So taking in enough alcohol to drown his anger at Angel was a herculean task, but one he threw his heart into.

  Sometime after two in the morning, when the club had closed and his friends had stumbled to their horses, Will made his way back to Falcon's Nest. He let himself in the front entrance and went to the door beneath the grand staircase that led down to the cellars.

&
nbsp; He managed the slide bar on the third try, took a candle, and walked stiffly down the steps. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned left and stopped in front of another door that led to an unused winter kitchen and servants' quarters.

  A thick wooden board-and-batten door closed that space off from the storage areas and wine cellar. This door was locked as well. A large iron key hung on a peg to the left, but he didn't attempt to take it down. Instead, he banged loudly. "Hey! Wake up in there! Bett!"

  "Go to hell in a leaky skiff!" she replied.

  "Leave us be," answered his other guest. "Are ye out of yer mind? It's the middle of the night."

  "Bett! I need..." Will cleared his throat and leaned against the door to maintain his balance. What was it he needed? He ran a hand through his hair, knocking his hat off. He didn't bother to retrieve it. "I need you to answer a question for me."

  "Go swive yerself!"

  "Woman! I warn you. You are in my power. I signed... signed..." What the hell had he signed? Something the judge's clerk had shoved at him. Responsible. That was it. "I'm responsible for the both of you. One word from me and you're both in... in the stocks."

  Bett's reply was so originally foul that Will chuckled in admiration.

  "Have you ever thought of signing on as a sea cook?" he asked. Few cooks he'd known could produce anything but swill in a ship's galley, but they were all masters of profanity.

  "Bugger off," Tamsey shouted. "Ain't ye got no respect fer a wench in mourning?"

  The brick floor tilted. Will got his sea legs and swayed with the swells. "One question, Bett, and... and I'll leave you to your rest."

  "He's come to have his way with us," Tamsey whispered from the far side of the door. Then she raised her voice. "We ain't givin' nothin' away, mister. You want futterin', you gotta show me hard coin."

  Will grimaced, remembering the girl's greasy hair, rank smell, and dirt-caked face and hands. "Not if you paid me," he answered.

  "What do you want?" Bett asked.

  "Tell me the truth," Will said. "Tell me... about Angel."

  "Where is she? What did you do with her, you jug-bitten varlet?"

  "I've got to know. Is she your daughter or not?"