He heard Arianne’s gasp and saw from the corner of his vision her taking a step toward him, her hand reaching for his arm. He silently begged her not to touch him. He’d need freedom of movement to draw his own flintlock which was strapped at his waist. She stopped a breath away and dropped her hand.
“Marcus,” the man said, stepping into the room and leveling the pistol in his direction. “I hoped you’d be dead by now.”
“You did your best to accomplish it, Samuel. But I had some help from the fellows inside. They didn’t think hanging was a fitting end for a man such as I.”
“No,” Samuel said, his voice a low gravelly sound. The scar across his neck had seen to it that his vocals remained as such. “Hanging isn’t good enough for the likes of you. Drawn and quartered, perhaps. Dismemberment, even better.”
“You always were fond of me, weren’t you, Sam?” Marco forced a smile to torment his enemy. Anything to take the man’s attention away from Arianne. In his mind, however, he was screaming at her to run, to get away from the bastard who’d forced his way into her room, a sanctuary he should never set foot.
“Fondness isn’t the word I’d use to describe my feelings toward you.” Samuel growled the words. “I’ll have the ring, Marcus. And the papers. I assume those are the letters from Father? Hand them over.”
Marco clenched his fist, the ring contained within. The beveled jewels bit into his flesh. He’d waited so long to get the ring back in his possession, the last piece of his father.
“Don’t you have enough riches, Samuel? Why weren’t you content to have me disinherited? To have Father turned against me. I was sent to prison for deeds I did not commit. I was condemned to servitude on a ship bound for the New World. Was that not enough to satisfy you?”
Samuel sneered. “When I heard that ship was attacked by pirates and you were not among the dead, I had hope you were lost at sea. Learning years later that you survived, well… I could not stand it, Marcus. I will not be content until you draw your last breath.”
“What evil have I done to you, brother, to earn such wrath? Being eldest born could not have been enough to turn against me. What did I do to deserve your hate?”
“Brother,” Samuel spat the word. “You have done much. Being Father’s favorite amongst them. But when Mary turned me away to be with you. It was the last thing I had that you had taken. My wife, Marcus. She was my wife!”
“She was a whore, brother, you knew it well. And I did not have her. I sent her away, despite the lies she whispered in your ear.”
“She’s dead,” Samuel said, softly. As softly as he could manage with a ripped throat. His face twisted and then became calm. “I killed her.”
Marco’s fingers itched to hold his flintlock. His brother was nearing the end of his patience, as well as his sanity. When he heard Mary had died by foul means, he’d assumed it was the result of one of her many lover’s. The thought of his brother murdering the one person he loved more than life had never entered his brain. To know it now, sent chills down his spine. Samuel was beyond redemption, beyond compassion, beyond talking to. One of them would die tonight. Marco knew it was the only way the other could go on living.
“She called for you as she lay dying,” Samuel said, his face twisting again. The pistol trembled in his hand. “My lady wife’s last words were of you before I gutted her.”
Marco had no words left. Nothing he could say would change the course his brother had chosen. He meant to kill him, just as he had that last time they met, the day Marco had been taken prisoner. With the British soldiers on his side, Samuel had attacked, sword in hand. During the struggle, Marco had slashed his throat. Not deep. Not enough to kill him, but enough to mark him forever. Another reason to hate him.
“The ring, Marcus,” Samuel said. “I’ll have it freely or from your cold dead hands, it matters not to me.”
The ring. Marco lifted his arm, unfurling his fingers to reveal the ring that had been the cause for so much strife between them. This ring had been in their family for generations. It was an important piece to their father, a part of family history that he promised to give to the son who inherited the wealth of the family estate as well as the assets attached. After Marco had been disinherited, he’d never thought to see this ring ever again. However, on the last day of his life, his father had commissioned a man to deliver the envelope which contained the ring to Marco with a letter explaining all. It seems at the end, their father understood. Samuel’s true self had been revealed, as well as the lies and deceit. His father had done everything possible to have the charges dropped against Marco and reinstated him as his rightful heir to inherit all…with nothing for Samuel.
Marco had wept upon receiving that letter. He kept the ring on his finger from that moment on until the fateful day he was taken prisoner.
He’d given it to Arianne that day. It was the only thing of personal value he possessed, and he’d given it to her as a pledge of his love. And his intentions to marry her. He’d found his love. He’d known it for so long, even if he hadn’t recognized the fact straight away. She was the one woman meant for him, and he yearned to make her his in every way, including marriage.
Then he was attacked and his dreams were all but forgotten. Nothing save pain and torture afterward with nary a promise of escape until those prisoners found freedom.
He thought he’d been given another chance. To get his ring and Arianne. Together.
Arianne had remained silent during their exchange, but she must have made some noise, something to remind Samuel of her presence since he turned to her suddenly, pointing the pistol in her direction. Marco took an instinctive step to place himself in front of her.
“Mistress Durant,” Samuel said, smiling. “We meet again, my dear.”
She said not a word. Marco kept his eyes on his brother, but he sensed Arianne’s presence behind him. He’d have her run to the window and take her chances with a leap to the ground, but there was no way for him to communicate his wishes to her.
“Come out where I can see you, mistress,” Samuel growled. “Let us not have me put a hole in Marcus only to have it go through you as well. I’ll not have you damaged in such a way. I have better plans for you, my dear.”
Despite Marco’s inner screams, Arianne took a step around him, standing tall beside him. She faced their enemy, her head held high.
“Did she not tell you of our previous encounter, Marcus?”
“She was not there the day I gifted you with a fine necktie,” Marco said, waving to his throat. “I recall it well enough.”
“As do I,” Samuel said, disdain dripping from his words. “But I refer to a later date. While you sat in prison, I thought to get my ring back. It is mine after all. Mine! Father promised it to me after you were sent away. And I will not let you have that last piece of Father. The one thing that meant so much to him. It seemed sensible enough that if you did not have the ring when you were taken, you’d give it to the one closest to you. I kept men surrounding you, Marcus. My spies told me everything. I knew those who were close to you.”
His stomach clenched with dread. This was why she sent the ring away. It was a dangerous item to link to her. A part of Marco Dante bound to her, keeping his enemies tied to her as well.
He cursed himself a fool. Why had he given her the ring? He should have cast it into the sea.
“Why did you not tell him?” Samuel took a step closer, smirking as his voice croaked. “I enjoyed our visit. But I suppose I was the reason you kept moving afterward. You never stayed in the same place long. As soon as I found you, you vanished into the sea. Of course, there are many places to hide among islands and pirates. A whole vast ocean’s worth of destinations, but you never traveled far. Did you hope he would return? Did you wish to remain in case he managed to regain his freedom and return to fetch you?”
He paused then, but Arianne remained steadfastly silent and still.
“Come, come, mistress,” Samuel baited. He raised the pistol
higher, pointing it at Marco’s head. “No need to hide the truth. He needs to know.”
Arianne moved, fumbling with the collar of her shirt. She unlaced the top, bringing the fabric down over her shoulder to reveal a scar. The puckered wound had healed, but it was long and jagged and must have been deep from the sight of it.
“He gave me this the night he found me.” Arianne’s voice was steady and strong, as if she remarked upon a topic of vague interest to her.
“Forgive me, mistress. It was not my intention.” Samuel bowed his head in her direction in mock apology, but his intense gaze never wavered.
“No.” Arianne agreed. “He meant to slash my throat. He missed his aim, however.”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “Your young man saved you. At the cost of his own life I later heard.”
Arianne stiffened beside him. She nodded. “He killed William that night.”
Young Will.
Marco felt Arianne’s grief as she spoke the words in a flat, emotionless tone. He wished to reach for her, to wrap his arms around her and promise no harm would ever come to her. But he could not. How could he with his brother in this very room?
Instead, Marco pushed thoughts of Will and Arianne aside and focused on Samuel.
“Take the ring, Samuel,” Marco said, keeping the ring visible in his hand. “And go back home where you belong. You need never return here again.”
“Perhaps…” Samuel stepped toward Arianne. “I might not return alone.”
He heard Arianne’s sharp intake of breath. Marco fought to keep the rage from clouding his attention. He’d never let his brother near Arianne ever again. He’d see to that, even if it cost his life, which it most likely would. But it was the last thing he could do for her, to save her from the wretched filth of this man.
Marco closed his fist around the ring and placed it in his pocket.
“I think you misunderstand me, brother.” Marco’s hand moved toward his belt where his flintlock was strapped to his waist. “I mean to give you the ring, if that’s what you came for, nothing more. This is my last offering to go in peace. For our father’s sake, if not our own.”
Samuel shook his head. “You never understood. And I doubt you ever will. But know this… I will take everything from you, just as you have taken everything from me. Even your woman.”
He raised the pistol to fire. Marco’s hand went to his own, but he knew he’d never get it in time. Suddenly, Arianne launched herself at Marco, shoving him aside. He saw the powder flash, he heard the resounding boom as the pistol fired. Marco stumbled, but quickly righted himself as Arianne released him. She fell to the floor.
Marco’s thoughts were on his brother. He made short work of unsheathing his cutlass and sinking it into his brother’s soft belly until the steel protruded from his back. Samuel’s eyes were round with shock.
“My apologies, Samuel,” Marco said softly. “But this can go on no longer. You’ve done enough to ensure it comes to this. One of us had to die. I’m sorry it had to be you, but I cannot allow Arianne to live in fear any longer. You will never touch her.”
Marco watched the light of life leave his brother’s eyes as his body sank to the floor. When he knew for certain Samuel was dead, he turned to see Arianne laying on the floor behind him.
“Arianne!”
He ran to her, dropping to his knees and praying all the while that her wound not be mortal. When Samuel fired his pistol, she pushed him aside. He had been Samuel’s target, not her.
Damn!
“Arianne!” He pulled her shoulders off the floor, turning her to face him. Her eyes were closed. “Arianne, my love. Don’t do this to me.”
His hands roamed down her torso, seeking the wound, but to his surprise he found nothing. There was no blood, no wound. Nothing to explain why she lay on the ground.
Until she lifted her hand to her head. She winced as her hand came away with blood.
Marco swore. Then his hands were in her hair, gently searching for the wound.
“I hit my head when I fell.” Arianne pointed toward the armoire.
“I see that, you little fool.” Marco found the scrape on her skull and took his handkerchief from his pocket, bunched it up and pressed it against her head. “What were you thinking to push me away like that? He was so close. He might have shot you.”
“He hit the wall,” she explained, pointing to the hole on the wall near the window. “He has the worst aim.”
“Well, he’ll be aiming no longer.”
Arianne glanced behind him to see the body of his brother on the floor. Her gaze flashed back to his. “I’m sorry.”
“You’d rather it was me on the floor?”
“No, of course not. But he’s your brother.”
Marco nodded. “Any familial bond I had with him was severed the day he told his lies to send me to prison. Samuel was mad as even my father saw in the end. If I did not end it, he would have killed me. And then you. I had no choice.”
“He kept calling you Marcus.”
It wasn’t a question, but she deserved an answer.
“My name,” he admitted. “My name is Marcus Anthony George Thornton. I changed it to Marco Dante after I was captured by those pirates who boarded the ship I was forced on bound for the New World. I did not wish to associate any connections to my father, I would not bring him the shame of discovering his son had turned pirate. I’ve been Marco ever since.”
“How did your brother find you?”
“St. Lucia.” Marco remembered the day he’d come face to face with Samuel on the street. It was the same day they’d fought and he’d been captured. “It was with luck he found me. He had no notion that I changed my name. He came upon me the day I left you with Angus. Do you recall that day?”
“We argued.”
“Aye,” Marco nodded. “You wanted me to stay. But I left. I never told you why. I had a gown commissioned for you. I went to fetch it along with other cargo.”
“A gown, Marco? Why?”
“I had a fancy to see you finely attired. It was to be a surprise.” Marco paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “Samuel happened to be walking the opposite direction after I picked up the parcel containing your gown. As soon as he met my eye, he attacked with sword drawn. After we fought, his men overwhelmed me and took me prisoner. He had me sent to England to stand trial for my crimes. He paid to delay my sentencing so that I might suffer longer in prison.”
“I’m glad he’s dead,” Arianne said, glancing at Samuel’s body. “He killed Will. He was…terrifying.”
Her lashes blinked back unshed tears.
“Quiet, my love,” Marco chastised. “It’s over now. He’ll never hurt you again.”
His finger brushed her cheek, touching the soft skin there, thankful that it was still warm with life. For a moment he had thought her dead and all life ceased in his own heart. He realized again how precious this woman was to him. How he knew he could never live without her.
“Arianne, I—”
The door creaked open behind him, and he turned to find Angus with a pistol primed and ready staring at Samuel’s body.
“Bloody Hell. Is that…?”
“Yes,” Marco said. “His days of vengeance are finished.”
He might have said more but the door opened further and Marco spied a tiny tot, clothed in a clean white dress peeking past Angus’s legs. Although both genders were often adorned in such garments, Marco had only to look at the child’s face to see it was Arianne’s daughter. The child’s face was a miniature of her mother’s with the exception of one thing.
Her eyes.
Again, that invisible fist punched Marco in his gut as he stared at those eyes. It was as if he looked into a mirror when he saw her blue eyes.
“Mama!” the child cried upon seeing Arianne. She ran to her, her arms raised in silent demand. Arianne pulled the child to her chest, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close.
“Hello, baby,” Arianne
said, tears clinging to her lashes. “Mama’s missed you.”
The child hugged her mother, obviously pleased to have her home at long last.
Marco watched the scene between mother and child with interest. He leaned back, feeling much like an outsider as he looked on. Inside, his heart raced as though he were swinging his blade side to side in mighty combat aboard the Black Rose during a violent storm at sea.
His child?
When Arianne finally lifted her gaze to meet his, he saw the regret in her eyes.
She never planned to tell him.
Why?
“Her name is Elizabeth, but I call her Bess.”
“My mother’s name,” Marco whispered past the constriction he felt upon his lungs making it difficult to draw breath.
She nodded. “I know.”
“How old is she?”
“About a year and a half,” Arianne said. “I didn’t know until after you were taken. I tried to get to you, but then… Well, then I thought I was too late.”
“And after I returned? Why not tell me then?”
“It’s too dangerous,” Arianne said, tightening her hold on the child. “That’s why I got rid of your ring. If anyone should ever know she is the daughter of the mighty pirate, Captain Dante…”
“They’ll use it as leverage against me,” he finished for her. Yes, he understood. After all, his enemies had tried to do the same with Arianne. It might be worse with a child. “What if,” he said, rubbing his chin with one hand in deep thought. “What if the mighty Captain Dante never returned? What if Captain Dante died in that English prison?”
“But you didn’t.”
“Not everyone knows that, Love. Myth and rumor abound. A few claim to have seen me, but how many truly have proof of it? Captain Dante died in prison. Marcus Thornton stands reborn before you.”
“You would do that, Marco? For me?”
“For you,” he said, nodding. “For her. For us.”
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