A Brother's Honor

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “Abig. Pretty,” he repeated. His big hands stroked the flowers with the gentleness she had seen on their previous visit to these gardens.

  Sympathy filled her. When Dominic pulled on her, she knew she had no time for anything but to escape. She would not be given a second chance. The wedding and the consummation would be held immediately under Sir Harlan’s observation.

  Dominic drew her behind the rose arbor. When he tugged her toward the house, she shook her head. She took his hand and led him through the flower gardens she had explored with Clive. They wrapped around the back of the house and toward the rear wall. If the gate in it was locked, she was sure they could find a way to climb over the wall.

  Thunder rang overhead quickly after a flash of lightning.

  “That was close,” he whispered.

  “Too close.”

  “Will you be all right?”

  She nodded. “I am not going to cower here so they can catch us again. And I don’t plan on letting the lightning sear me before I find out how you got out of prison.”

  “’Tis a good tale.” With a chuckle, he pulled her into the shadows creeping from beneath a tree as the storm loomed over them.

  Dominic pushed her behind him as they approached a gate. Suddenly he pressed her against the wall and raised his gun. Holding her breath, she watched the moving bush. When he cursed and chuckled, she relaxed as a small bird popped out of the flowers and peered at them with curiosity.

  “Scared?” she teased.

  “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” He pulled on her hand as he reached for the latch on the gate.

  It opened, and Abigail hurried through. When he stood beside her, she said, “And I thought I would never see you frightened, Captain St. Clair … I mean Levesque.”

  “That is because I never have had so much to lose as now. I do not intend to lose you again.” Taking her hand, he motioned with his head toward the valley. “Let’s go, chérie. We are not safe yet. I am not sure how long Ogier and the others can keep your wedding guests entertained.”

  “Ogier? Ogier Broulier? Evan was able to get a message to him?”

  “That, chérie, is also a tale I cannot wait to tell you.”

  She flung off her long veil as they ran along the path leading down into Morristown. “Where is La Chanson?”

  “Not far. There is a river beyond the village that leads quickly to sea. We have a jolly boat waiting there to take us out to the ship.”

  “You are an incorrigible pirate!”

  “You suspected otherwise?” He whirled her into his arms. “I stole my enemy’s ship and your heart. I bested England by denying them a victim at their gallows.” His eyes raked her with the heat of his desire. “Ventre bleu, my love, you are the prettiest bride I have ever seen!”

  When he kissed her, her fingers rose to the back of his neck where his kerchief still was tied. The yearning that she thought would never be satisfied again ached through her.

  “Come,” he added softly. His black eyes glistened like the polished facets on a nugget of coal. “Let’s get back to La Chanson. I want to consummate our wedding.”

  “We are not married.”

  “Save this dress, chérie. I want to see you in it when we stand before a priest in Calais.” He grinned as he drew her along the rugged path. “But now, I want to see you out of it.”

  “You are incorrigible!”

  “And you love it!”

  She put her arm around his waist as they hurried along the path. “I love you, mon cher.”

  With a chuckle at her atrocious accent, Dominic increased their pace. She understood and tried to keep up, for someone soon would notice that the bride had vanished. Dominic whispered that the crew from La Chanson had orders to flee the wedding at that point, leaving their booty to confuse Sir Harlan’s guests.

  Abigail’s soft slippers slid as she ran on the stones. When her breath sounded loud in her ears, she hoped they were nearing the village. She always had ridden in a carriage into Morristown, so she could not judge how far it was on foot.

  “Halt!”

  Abigail cried, “It is Captain Fitzgerald.” She looked back and bumped into Dominic.

  He caught her and pushed her behind him. She realized Captain Fitzgerald somehow had managed to get ahead of them on the road. He must have noticed them leaving and taken a more direct route.

  Dominic raised his gun. “I do not want to kill you in front of her, Fitzgerald,” he said quietly, “but I will, if you do not get out of our way.”

  Captain Fitzgerald gestured with his own pistol. “Release her or I shall put a bullet through her.”

  “And risk losing your five thousand pounds?”

  “If I cannot have the money, she is useless.” He waved the gun. “Release her or I shall put a ball through you, and then one through her.”

  “No!” Abigail cried as Dominic shifted. “Don’t surrender to him! Don’t send me back to …” Her words faded as she saw a shadow lurching toward them. “Clive,” she whispered. He must have followed, wanting the pretties she had promised him.

  When she heard Captain Fitzgerald repeat his orders, she realized both he and Dominic were so intent on each other that they had not noticed Clive coming toward them like an oversized puppy.

  Captain Fitzgerald aimed his gun at Dominic. Abigail screamed, but its sound was swallowed by a crash of thunder and Clive’s roar. He raised his hands and ran at Captain Fitzgerald.

  “No, Clive!” she shouted, but it was too late.

  Captain Fitzgerald whirled and raised his gun. It fired, drowning out the thunder.

  Her shout became a moan of sorrow as she ran to where Clive fell to the ground. He gave a soft whimper, and she could not tell if he spoke her name or simply “pretty.”

  Dominic pulled on her hand. “Come on, before Fitzgerald can reload.”

  “But Clive—”

  “He is dead, chérie.”

  Realizing he was right, she could not see through the tears blinding her. She stumbled along the path with him, but they had gone only a few steps when she heard Sir Harlan screech some wordless threat. A second shot resounded through the afternoon.

  “Damn! They all are insane!” muttered Dominic through clenched teeth. Lightning struck a hilltop on the far side of the village. “Let’s go. If he got Fitzgerald with that shot, Morris will want you next.”

  A ball whirred past Abigail’s ear. She gathered up her dress and ran. Was it only Sir Harlan after them or all the guests?

  Only when small pebbles beneath her feet threatened to trip her did she realize they had reached the stream. She gasped as Dominic scooped her up and placed her in a waiting boat that had been hidden in the shadows of the trees. He bent to push it into the river. The sharp retort of a gun sounded.

  Dominic dropped to one knee. Abigail screamed as blood flowed from his shoulder. Putting his fingers over the hole, he glanced back toward the man approaching them. Sir Harlan grinned victoriously as he aimed a second handgun directly at Dominic.

  “That is how I like seeing a French pirate. Groveling,” he chortled with evil mirth. “Beg for your life before I end it.”

  “I will not!” Dominic snapped, but his voice was weak.

  Abigail started to speak, but something was shoved into her hands. Dominic’s pistol! He could not rise to fire it, but she was facing Sir Harlan. She could kill him.

  No, she wanted to scream. She had never killed anyone. She had not been able to slay Dominic when she discovered him wounded. If she had not been able to smash his head with a rock when she had hated him so deeply, she feared she could not fire the pistol, even though she despised Sir Harlan more than she ever had Dominic.

  “Try,” Dominic whispered beneath Sir Harlan’s continued ranting.

  His single word strengthened her as nothing else had. Slowly she rose to her knees. Aiming at the center of the round man’s chest, she called, “Put down your gun, Sir Harlan, or I will kill you!”

  “You?
” He laughed and lowered his weapon. “Go ahead. Shoot, Abigail. Then I will end your miserable lover’s existence.” His voice became darker as he growled, “Then I shall show you how I punish the woman who murdered my son.”

  “I did not kill Clive!”

  Dominic muttered through clenched teeth, “Aim low.”

  Repositioning the gun, she drew back the hammer. Her fingers shook. She tried to fire it, but her fingers refused to obey.

  Sir Harlan laughed again as rain struck them. “All done? Good. Then I shall show you how it is done. Say farewell to your lover.” He raised his gun again.

  “No!” she cried. The gun in her hand leaped as it fired. The boat rocked as Dominic fell into it and shoved it into the stream. His hand pulled her down as a barrage of shots followed hers. Cowering in the wet bottom, she clung to Dominic’s arm. She sought his pulse and counted each heartbeat which showed her that he still lived.

  The boat hit a rock and stopped. “No!” she cried. She reached for an oar.

  A hand halted her. She shrieked.

  “Let me help you, mademoiselle.”

  At the heavy French accent, Abigail looked up to see a blond man. The leader of the thieves!

  “Ogier? Ogier Broulier?” she whispered.

  He nodded as he bent to check his wounded captain.

  Dominic grinned at her as he waved his first mate aside. “I am alive, and I want to stay that way. Let’s get the hell out of here. La Chanson waits for us.”

  Dominic’s words brought soft cheers from the men who stepped out from among the trees. Quickly they scrambled into the small boat.

  “Where is Evan?” demanded Dominic.

  “Evan?” Abigail asked. “Evan Somerset?”

  “There!” Ogier pointed to a man racing through the trees, pulling a woman as fast as she could run.

  “Tessie!” cried Abigail. She turned to Evan, who was helping Tessie into the boat. “Thank you, Dominic.”

  “Did you think I would forget your friend and mine?” he teased with all the charm which had won her heart. “Are you coming with us, Evan?”

  Evan shook his head. “That life is yours, mon ami. My life is in London in a tiny salon with a woman who loves me as much as Miss Fitzgerald loves you. Although I cannot guess why any woman as clearly intelligent as Miss Fitzgerald would give her heart to an old sea-crab like you.”

  “Odd,” Dominic said with a laugh, extending his hand to shake Evan’s. “I was wondering much the same about my sister. I shall have to set her to rights as soon as possible.”

  “Yes.” Evan’s face became serious. “Come to see Brienne as soon as you can get to London safely, Dominic. She wishes to meet you.”

  “Even though I left you with a hole in your leg from our escape out of Sir Harlan Morris’s prison?”

  Abigail noticed the bandage around Evan’s leg for the first time. “Can you get back to London, Evan?”

  “I still have a few tricks.” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “Brienne hopes you will pay us another call again soon, too, Miss Fitzgerald.”

  “Abigail.”

  “Abigail,” he repeated and stepped back as the men shoved the boat off the rock and out into the deeper waters of the stream. “Soon!” he called before disappearing among the trees.

  “I think you do have quite a tale to tell me,” Abigail said as the men began to row the boat quickly toward the sea. She pulled up the hem of her skirt enough to rip a strip from her petticoat. As she wrapped it around Dominic’s wounded shoulder, she smiled. “I am better prepared this time.”

  “I hope this is the last time I need your nursing, chérie,” he murmured. He winced as she shifted his shoulder while winding the material behind him. “You are going to stay with me, aren’t you?”

  Glancing at the men rowing the boat, she saw they all were smiling. Her life with Dominic always would be a public one as they shared close quarters with his crew. As if no one but she and Dominic were in the small boat, she bent forward and kissed him.

  “Of course, mon cher pirate.”

  Epilogue

  Abigail held her face up to the sea breeze. She had forgotten how exciting the tang of salt could be when it spiced each breath. Beneath her feet, the deck danced with the music of the waves.

  La Chanson de la Mer.

  The sea’s song … At last she understood why Dominic had named his ship that. The ship seemed to be a part of the melody, never ending, ever changing.

  “I thought I would find you here.”

  She smiled up at Dominic. “At last I understand why you missed this ship so much. It is like flying to stand here by the rail and taste the wind.”

  He sat on a crate and drew her down beside him. “I feared that I would go mad in that prison when I did not think I would be able to return here.”

  “But you did.”

  “Oui.”

  “And it is a tale worth telling?”

  He chuckled. “At the time, it seemed as if it would be a tale with a tragic ending. When Evan was shot in the leg, I went back to get him. I did not see a guard coming up behind me. He must have struck me on the back of the head with a gun. Both of us were senseless, and no one disturbed us while the guards who had not been incapacitated by Brienne’s opium-laced soup were trying to recapture all the prisoners we had released.”

  “You never do anything simply, Dominic.”

  “Never. By the time I regained my senses, most of the courtyard was on fire. I dragged Evan out of there, and we hid in the woods until we could sneak to the river and find our way to La Chanson.”

  Abigail hesitated, then said, “I have heard you disobeyed orders from your government to come back and get me.”

  “Oui.”

  “But won’t you be in trouble for that?” She put her hand over his heart. “I did not hope for you to escape the gallows in England just so you could hang in France.”

  Standing, he went to lean on the rail. “Chérie, I could not leave you there to marry another man.”

  She went to him. “But—”

  “I also know that La Chanson is the swiftest ship on the seven seas. We will reach the rendezvous point with time to spare.” He laughed. “As well, I know that the ships did not sail out of Plymouth as was planned.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Haven’t you learned that I know every man in England who will trade some information for gold … or his life?”

  She frowned for a moment, then laughed. “Was that what Ogier was talking to Sir Harlan’s guest about?”

  “That guest was one of the premier shippers in England, a thief in his own right just as Sir Harlan was. It is a shame that he decided not to be a part of the trap to be sprung on the French.”

  “So you will be a hero instead of being punished for disobeying orders.”

  Dominic chuckled. “You sound almost disappointed, chérie. I hope you will change your mind while we are bound for France and some leave for the crew and a refurbishment for La Chanson. That will give me time to ask questions about the whereabouts of my younger sister.” He drew off his ring. “Mayhap this ring, which revealed the truth to Brienne’s grandmother, will help me locate my other sister.”

  “I hope so. She must be somewhere looking for you, too.”

  Taking her hand, he placed his thunderstone ring on her palm. “Keep this safe for me, chérie. When I have found my sister, I want you to keep this as my promise of love.”

  “I do not need it, for I can see it in your eyes.”

  He lifted her left hand and slipped the oversized ring onto her fourth finger. Looking down into her joy-filled eyes, he said, “I certainly do not need it, for I have everything I want right here, chérie. My ship, which is a song upon the sea, and the woman I love, who gives meaning to the melody of life.”

  She did not doubt him. Dominic had proven to her that he could make miracles come true. After all they had suffered, it had required only the smallest miracle for her to love a French pirate for
the rest of her life. Gazing up into his eyes as his lips lowered toward hers, she whispered, “So do I.”

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2000 by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox

  ISBN: 978-1-5040-0883-9

  Distributed in 2015 by Open Road Distribution

  345 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com