by Howe, Cheryl
“The Redcoats are scouring the Caribbean for El Diablo and you’re tossing pilfered doubloons like they were a mere pittance. You couldn’t make it any more obvious that you’re a pirate.” Solomon kept his voice low and calm, but his dark stare bored a hole through Drew.
“They’re Spanish doubloons. The British would probably congratulate me.”
Drew poured himself more rum. The pressure of Solomon’s hand on his arm stopped him from bringing the tankard to his lips.
“What the hell are you doing?” Drew asked in a low, dangerous voice.
Solomon removed his hand when Drew lowered the mug. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Or rather, what did she do?”
Drew had been dreading that question. Solomon was too smart not to figure out that Felicity was at the root of his foul temper. “If you’re going to rub your infernal good sense in my face, the least you could do is let me get drunk first.”
“Do you want to die, Drew? Stumble drunk from this establishment and someone will likely slit your throat for tossing around gold coins faster than the British can hang you.”
Drew lowered his gaze and massaged his forehead. His strained nerves could not stand a confrontation with his closest ally. “Felicity knows everything.”
“I don’t doubt our Miss Kendall believes she knows everything, but we both suspected that from the beginning.”
Drew looked down at his full tankard of rum with longing. Solomon was going to force him to say it.
“Somehow she left my cabin and talked to McCulla, and she knows I’m El Diablo. Should I tell you that you were right about her now, or can we save it for a time when I’m feeling less inept?”
“I took Felicity from the cabin.” Solomon curled his hand around the tankard. Though Solomon didn’t drink, Drew thought Felicity might have driven him to it. “She saved Avery Sneed’s life. If you need to blame someone, blame me. Don’t punish her.”
Drew shook his head. Convincing Solomon to ignore his orders proved Felicity’s abilities had no end. He was even defending her. Drew certainly couldn’t blame Solomon for withering under her demands. If she remained in her current state of mind, he was as good as hanged.
“Your punishment for disobeying an order is to deal with Felicity for the rest of our journey. I know it’s harsh, but there’s no choice. She detests me.”
Solomon’s expression hardened into a threat. “Felicity Kendall isn’t like your other women. You can’t use her, then toss her aside without a second thought.”
“I’m the one who’s been tossed aside.” Drew leaned back in his chair. “She thinks I killed Marley and Beatrice. She’s convinced I seduced her to gain her cooperation.”
“What did she say when you told her the truth?” asked Solomon.
Drew scanned the room, making Solomon wait for his answer. It seemed the British had indeed turned the Fatted Pig, a place known for the availability of every excess known to man, into a dusty tomb. Two well-worn pirates, one missing an arm, the other a piece of his nose, occupied a table in front of one of the large windows, capturing the breeze from the bay. Solomon and he were the only other patrons besides the men he had posted at the door and the long bar at the back. The delay didn’t help him come up with a decent response to Solomon’s question.
He had acted like a complete ass. The fact that it was for her own good didn’t ease either Felicity’s or his own suffering. “I didn’t say anything. I let her believe the worst.”
Solomon leaned forward. “Do not underestimate Miss Kendall. You need to explain yourself to her.”
Drew had bungled the chance to explain things. An attempt to do so now would be met with fierce rebukes. She’d never believe another word from him as long as he lived. “No. You were right about Felicity from the beginning. I never should have brought her onboard.”
Solomon shook his head. “I was wrong about Felicity but right about you. Miss Kendall demands to be treated with honesty. She likes to make her own choices. When given the opportunity and the correct information, she is fair.”
“She found that bloody flag. What could I say to that?” Drew should have realized the flag would cause him nothing but grief. All the other pirates who’d created a name for themselves had a personal standard that struck fear in the hearts of their victims before a shot had to be fired. When details of Drew’s flag had begun to be whispered among the Caribbean ports, Drew had actually been thrilled. After years of being a bastard without name or family, he’d finally reached a level of status that set him apart from the unwanted child he’d been. No one would look upon him with scorn ever again—fear maybe, but not scorn. Unfortunately, the devil was finally calling in his due for fulfilling Drew’s secret desire, and it was time to pay in full.
“Felicity is a fighter. She doesn’t always choose the easiest path. It’s obvious she cares for you, and you owe her a chance to make up her own mind.” Solomon’s words brought Drew out of his dangerous thoughts.
Drew shook his head. “It’s better that she hates me. Too many people have suffered because of their association with me.”
“It is obvious that making her your enemy is not better for you, and I doubt it has proven to be so for her. Your distraction could cost you your life. Have you considered what would happen to her and the rest of us if you were captured or killed?”
Drew tipped back his wooden chair, balancing it on two legs. He hoped he looked relaxed. Solomon’s question gave him the chance to finally say out loud the idea he’d struggled with since he’d cooled from his confrontation with Felicity. Both Felicity and Ben, not to mention Solomon and his crew, would be a hell of a lot better off if he were captured. He was the one the British really wanted, whether he was Marley’s killer or not.
“I think we should consider a plan to exchange me for Ben.”
Solomon looked absolutely incredulous for the first time in their acquaintance. He blinked several times before his eyes narrowed. “And then what?”
Drew had trouble meeting his gaze and stared down at his tankard instead. The and then what was something he’d rather not think about. He shrugged. “You take Felicity and Ben somewhere safe. You can join them. I think Hugh would be better off in the company of a woman rather than a gang of pirates anyway.”
“You’re serious?” Solomon continued to stare, forcing Drew to meet his gaze.
“I see no other way.”
“So, you just sacrifice yourself for all of us? That’s not the way it works. Ben knew what he was getting himself into when he decided to sell our stolen goods. The Piracy Act is clear that merchants who deal in pirate contraband are to be treated as pirates. If the roles were reversed, would you expect Ben to turn himself in to save you?”
Drew might have been able to accept this reasoning if Felicity wasn’t involved. “If my father hadn’t come to Barbados, I doubt Ben would have been arrested. I don’t know why I ever thought pretending to be his legitimate son was a good idea.”
Actually, Drew did know why. He’d wanted recognition even if he had to steal it, as he’d had to steal every ounce of pleasure he’d ever gotten out of life. He’d had to steal for his very survival. Maybe giving it up so easily wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“I won’t let you turn yourself in. Let’s continue with our plan to find Marley’s killer. Perhaps the man still has some of Marley’s goods with him. We’ll pay off some magistrate and have him arrested. Then the Barbadians can hang him and let Ben go.”
Drew shook his head. Solomon’s plan was weak at best. “That’s not going to satisfy my father.”
“I don’t give a damn if it does or not. As angry as Felicity is with you at the moment, I don’t think she wants you to sacrifice yourself, and I know Ben wouldn’t. Let’s wait and see what happens. They’re holding Ben in hopes of attracting you. If all else fails, we’ll try to sneak him out of jail.”
Drew took a deep breath, the first he’d been able to draw since the idea of turning himself in had t
aken root. Solomon was right. Now was not the time to give up. Not yet.
Despite the unbearable state of affairs between him and Felicity, he hoped Solomon was right about her as well. “I would most dearly relish getting my hands on Marley’s killer, and I suppose I should try to make peace with Felicity. I couldn’t saddle you with her in her current state.”
“I’m afraid Miss Kendall proves unmanageable in any state.”
Drew picked up his tankard, toasted his friend, then drained its contents. The rum’s bite cleared his head. Drew innocently shrugged in the face of Solomon’s displeasure.
“Time to start acting like a pirate instead of a lovesick swain.”
Drew stood, then snatched his weather-beaten hat from the equally worn table and plopped it on his head. He forced its wide curving brim to angle across his face. “Shall we go?”
Solomon stood. “Are we going back to the ship so you can straighten things out with Miss Kendall?”
“Not yet. Marley’s killer didn’t vanish into thin air. We’ll ask around the docks, then wait for nightfall. Even the Royal Navy can’t keep a pirate from rum and wenches once the moon is out.”
Drew paused at the open door and scanned the room a final time. The barmaid waved from where she leaned on the back bar.
Solomon caught the exchange and glared at Drew. “You will speak with Felicity?”
Drew smiled at the woman, then nodded to his men guarding the bar. They knew to follow discreetly.
He returned his attention to Solomon. “As soon as we get back.” Drew would have to ensure this excursion lasted until dawn. “Hopefully Felicity will have calmed down by then.” Drew doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to believe in the impossible. It had gotten him this far.
Solomon looked skeptical. “What if she hasn’t calmed down?”
Drew stepped into the sunlight. “I give you my word as a former scoundrel, I will speak with Felicity no later than tomorrow morning.”
Solomon followed him out the door. “Former scoundrel? Miss Kendall has made you see the error of your ways?”
The heavy smell of the sea drifted on a warm tropical breeze. Drew turned and headed in that direction. “If I stay alive that long.”
***
On Felicity’s third try, the lock clicked open. She pushed the door wide, hesitating on the threshold of freedom. The dark companionway reminded her that she still had a long way to go on an uncertain path. Even then, she could not consider herself free. Drew’s betrayal would always hold her heart prisoner. She found her courage and stepped out. The chance for escape might not present itself again.
She paused her climb to the upper deck on a rung close to the top. A soft breeze blew through the riggings and a gentle splashing echoed against the silent ship. She hauled herself through the hatch and crept out onto the open deck.
Longboats full of men had left the ship throughout the day. Since she had no idea how many crewed Drew’s vessel, she’d given up trying to keep track of who might be left onboard. The one thing she was sure of was Drew’s absence.
An agonizing stab of loss pierced her with renewed force. At first, she’d been excited to discover they were in port. It was the chance she’d prayed for. When Hugh had arrived later in the afternoon and informed her of Drew and Solomon’s absence, she knew with sickening certainty that nightfall would bring her best chance for a successful escape.
Even as she darted across the deck, sliding behind a thick mast, she felt the pull to stay. She blamed it on fear of the unknown and slipped off her dress.
A peek around the mast brought the guard strolling the deck into view. He was whistling. She wished she shared his confidence.
After he passed, she slid to the other side of the mast and received her first glimpse of their destination. Dots of light clustered along the shore. The glow signaled a heavy population on the island. Her hopes of finding an established government, British if she were lucky, and someone who would help her, increased.
She pulled off her underskirts, then her shoes. In spite of her shivers, the sultry night warmed her skin. Wearing only a thigh-length chemise would be practical for swimming the distance to the shore. The length more than doubled the pond where she had learned to swim as a child. Sheer determination would have to keep her from drowning.
She rolled her shoes in her discarded clothes and secured the bundle around her waist with a wide sash. She waited for the guard to repeat his pacing in the other direction before creeping to the railing. Guilt plagued her despite her carefully considered decision to leave the prisoners in the hold. Her difficulty with the sturdy latch on the door confirmed she would not stand a chance at picking the thick lock securing McCulla and his men. McCulla could rot in the filthy hold for all she cared, but the child and the other men didn’t deserve their fate.
Leaving them and going to shore on her own ensured her best chance of success. If all went well, she would find help for the others. She swung her leg over the railing and stared down at the long drop to the water.
The distance to the shore seemed to have increased. Suddenly, it appeared five times the length she had ever swum before instead of only double. She lifted her other leg over the railing. A quick glance at the guard showed he had circled the bow and was headed her way. It was now or never.
She let go of her death grip on the railing and jumped away from the ship. Instead of the hard, icy shock she’d expected, the warmth of the water embraced her. She swam underneath the surface and away from the ship until her lungs felt as if they would burst.
When she came up to catch her breath, she tasted salt. Despite the drenched bundle on her back, she floated easily. The warmth and the salt buoyed her above the surface. Treading water, she turned to look back at the ship. The guard leaned over the railing with a lantern in his hand. After a moment, he moved away.
Dark clouds drifted across the sky. The moon illuminated lighter patches of mist, painting them pearl gray. She memorized Drew’s ship in the unearthly incandescence. The guard paced across the deck again with his lantern held over the railing. He appeared to scan the water below. Silently, Felicity glided farther from the spill of light. She needed to find her way to shore, but she hesitated a little longer.
The guard’s pass brought the red lettering hugging the ship’s side into view. Curiosity held her despite the burning that had begun in her legs from keeping herself in place.
She blinked and quickly reread the swirling script before the name was again swallowed in shadows. Drew’s treachery took a final and fatal stab. The irony of it forced her to choke down a sob. She had never been anything more to him than a game. One he had played a thousand times before. She swam toward the lights on shore, the bold red script of the Rapture emblazoned in her mind.
Concentrating on each stroke that took her farther from Drew’s floating den of debauchery kept her buoyant while her heart sank. She paused to note her progress and to catch her breath. The glow of civilization seemed just as distant as when she began. She glanced back at the Rapture. The vessel blended into the night with only an occasional twinkle from a dim lantern to hint at its existence. Panic fluttered in her chest as she gazed at the expanse of murky sea separating her from her past and her future. She wouldn’t die like this, wouldn’t let Drew win. Strengthening her resolve, she pulled herself through the water.
Just as her arms grew too heavy to lift, her toe hit something solid. She lowered her feet and stood in waist-deep water. Voices and laughter carried over the soft murmur of waves lapping against the beach. The commotion came from the rows of planked buildings facing the shore. Light spilled through open windows where men amused themselves in drinking and carousing. She didn’t have to see herself to know her chemise hung transparently against her skin. Fortunately, the men were too consumed to notice anything as subtle as a shadow wading out of the darkness.
She darted to a palm tree at the far end of the beach, away from the taverns. A yank on the bundle tied around her waist spill
ed her clothes to the fine white sand. The sopping wet clothes would at least cover her decently, and with any luck, she could dry in the shadows until morning. Hopefully, she’d find the officials of the island before breakfast.
Her struggles to straighten the twisted material of her bodice were interrupted by the sound of male voices moving in her direction. She forced her arms in the sleeves and pulled the dress up over her breasts without lacing it.
Three men stumbled across the beach to one of the dozen small boats lining the shore. To her relief, the men lifted one of the launches and grappled with lugging it to the water while they argued among themselves.
Hurriedly, she pulled on her stockings. After she was fully dressed, she leaned down to look for her shoes. At least she still possessed her own sensible boots. They were the only remnants left of the orderly and prudent life she had abandoned so readily. In retrospect, the years of lonely recriminations seemed a small price to pay. The penalty for being a fool multiplied tenfold the second time around.
Even so, she knew if she ever saw Drew again, she’d succumb to his charm as easily as she had before she knew the depth of his depravity. Saving her soul was almost as important as arranging her father’s release from prison. The first might be hopeless, but the second would be accomplished no matter what she had to do.
She located one boot and yanked it on. To find its mate, she got on her hands and knees, brushing her fingers across the powdery sand in wide arches.
“What have we here?” leered a drunken voice. “A randy bastard he was who tumbled ya and didn’t help you find your drawers. You won’t get that kind of treatment from me, lass.”
She jerked her gaze to find a bearded sailor swaying on the balls of his feet. A gold ring dangled from one ear and a red scarf covered his head. Lank strands of hair hung down his back. Cold fear squeezed the breath from her lungs. She stood up, backing away.
He slowly stalked her as if he were coaxing a scared animal to come out of hiding. “Come on, lass. I ain’t going to hurt you. I got money. Gold coin.” He reached into a pouch hanging at his waist and jingled metal.