A Heart's Masquerade

by Deborah Simmons

  "Ah, I see you are aware of the problem," he said, and Cat's heart sank. She did not understand what Devlin's role in all this was, but she knew full well that Edward wanted her dead. Her hard-won composure faltered, and fear took its place.

  Although she didn't know what she could say to plead her case, Cat was desperate to speak, and her grunts finally managed to gain Blakely's attention. But to no avail.

  "I have no intention of letting you speak, so you may as well cease your exertions," he said. "I have no doubt that your screams would incite the greedy rabble aboard this ship to break down the door in their efforts to claim their piece of you. I'm equally certain the prospect does not appeal to you. Nor do I wish to deliver a dead body to my employer. So, you see, it really is best for you to maintain a discreet silence."

  He lifted a hand to push a lock of hair from his brow, his indifference to her plight obvious. "Of course, I'm afraid your silence may not deter our illustrious captain, although he has strict instructions not to damage the cargo. My orders were to deliver you alive and in a reasonable condition, so let us hope, for both our sakes, that Ben can be counted on to, if not restrain himself, at least to limit his violence."

  Cat's stomach lurched at the words, spoken so casually. Nothing, not even Edward's ruthlessness, had prepared her for this cold-blooded creature reciting heinous crimes in such a conversational tone.

  Cat realized suddenly that her cousin was a rank amateur, while the man before her was something else... She felt the blood rushing past her ears and struggled with a dizzy sensation that threatened to rob her of consciousness.

  "Should Ben make a visit, I will need to take charge of your clothing... or the remnants. I gather my superior wants to make a little present of them to Duprey," Blakely said. "In that case, the bloodier the better, although I can always spice them up a bit after the fact. Despite your falling out, I imagine they will distress him. Don't you agree?"

  Cat shook her head dismally as she fought down the bile that rose in her throat.

  "Don't be so modest, Miss Amberly. The normally unflappable captain was quite infatuated with you. I have the bruises to prove it. And, believe me, he has never been prey to emotional traps, or we would have set them before."

  He inclined his head forward, as though to look at her more closely. "Yes, I have a notion that Duprey was in love with you - until I told him you were in league with his enemy. Did he vent his anger on you, too, or just turn icy?" Blakely asked.

  "Ah well. I suspect he'll be upset to learn that you were only an innocent victim. And although I care little for the theatrics my superior sometimes employs, I must admit this little trick will probably do some damage to the man." His lips curved into a decidedly unpleasant smile.

  "In fact, this time he may very well break."

  ***

  Cat nearly jumped out of her skin at a loud noise from above, certain that the dreaded Ben was rending the door from its frame. Even though she was bound tightly, she had to fight the urge to reach for her knife. She could only hope that no one would suspect a gently-reared female of having such a weapon.

  "Now, what is that?" Blakely asked when the sound was followed by more clamor, as if a commotion were breaking out on deck.

  Although Cat could not say so, she recognized the running and shouting as battle preparations and prayed that the ship would be blown to bits. Better to go that way than... Cat shuddered, unable to complete the thought.

  But she knew the chances of Ben losing his ship were slim. He preyed on smaller, weaker vessels, and no one purposely went after The Prize.

  "Please excuse me," Blakely said, rising to his feet.

  Cat soon heard the door close, and holding her breath, she waited for the turn of a key. But there was no other sound, and she released a ragged sigh, realizing that on a ship run as sloppily as this, keys would have been lost long ago.

  And why would Blakely lock her in, for where could she possibly go? Cat decided not to dwell on that question. Instead, she raised her knees to her chest and slid a hand beneath her skirts, feeling a giddy sense of joy when her fingers closed around the familiar silver blade Ransom had given her.

  Skillfully slipping the knife between her hands, she began cutting the ropes that bound her, straining so hard to hear every sound that her ears began to ring. The unnatural position made her wrists ache, forcing her to pause several times. But finally, she felt the rope slip away. And with one deft motion, she cut the cord binding her ankles, as well.

  Cat rolled from the bed, eager to get away from the filthy blankets, and stole to the window, where she wiped a small patch of pane to peek out. She had been right about the battle preparations, for she could see another ship through the grime, and her knees went weak when she recognized it.

  For a moment, she stood staring, hardly able to believe her good fortune. For whether by design or coincidence, the Reckless was bearing down on the them, bringing with her the promise of Ransom and rescue.

  Cat had to reach out to steady herself and her frantic hopes. For the appearance of the ship did not mean anyone knew she was aboard. In fact, Ransom might feel his suspicions concerning her were justified, if he found her traveling with his enemies - which left her with only one option.

  She would have to rescue herself.

  Already plotting her escape, Cat hurried from the window to inspect the contents of the various crates and chest for anything useful. The first contained heavy materials, brocades and horsehair. The next held finely crafted glassware worth a small fortune to others, but not to her, and her heart hammered at each delay.

  Listening all the while for sounds of returning footsteps, Cat opened a narrow wooden crate and gasped at the sight of cutlasses and swords. They were all too heavy for her, but... a rapier!

  Cat returned her knife to its hiding place and hefted the rapier, thankful that Blakely had underestimated her. He had left her, albeit trussed up, in an unlocked room with a box full of weapons. No doubt, he thought she would swoon, rather than try to break free.

  Her confidence returning, Cat searched for clothes, knowing that escape would be easier for Cat than Catherine. She rummaged through a chest of pirated finery. Too gaudy! Too big! There must be something...

  Desperately, she rooted through a pile of silks and satins and pushed them aside until she found more serviceable clothing. Pulling out some breeches, a shirt, and a coat, she stripped out of her gown and dressed in the newfound garments.

  Her hair had grown, so she tucked it under a hat, and discarded her slippers and stockings. They were too feminine and would only hinder her if she needed to move with speed and stealth.

  With the rapier hidden under her large coat, she crept to the door. Drawing a deep breath, she listened for any sounds of a guard, but when she heard none, she cracked open the worn wood. Thankfully, the passage was deserted, lit only by a lantern that hung by the hatchway.

  For a moment, Cat stood where she was, undecided. Then she tore the lantern from its place and turned back to the cabin, tossing it upon the moldy bed. Fire, the sailor's most feared enemy, ignited the thin blankets while she ran to the hatchway.

  Climbing up to the deck, Cat slipped unnoticed into the melee as groups of seamen barked orders at each other, although no one seemed to listen. The Reckless had slipped alongside the vessel, but no shots had been fired yet. Her heart pounded as she picked out the figure of her captain, shouting across the waves at a garishly dressed man who waved a cutlass.

  Having no desire to view the infamous Ben Pike any closer, Cat inched away, alert for any sign of Blakely. Amid the mayhem, she made her way aft and leapt into the rigging.

  Her recent months of ease had rendered her ill-prepared for a fast climb up the ratlines, but Cat threw herself into the task, knowing that her very life depended upon it. She could only hope that no one on this poorly run vessel would notice her.

  However, it was not long before she heard a voice shouting upwards. "You! What are you doing?" />
  Cat did not answer, for she was nearly to the topgallant. As she reached for a free line, a ball whistled through the air, and she realized that someone from below was shooting at her. The thought had barely registered when a sharp pain in her leg threw her off balance, and she nearly lost her footing while reaching again for the rope.

  Although her head was swimming, Cat couldn't wait. She pushed from the mast with every ounce of strength she possessed, and for one dizzying moment she was swinging across the ocean. It was like the old days when she would drop off to swim, but she was too high to fall now.

  She didn't dare look down, but kept focused on the Reckless and the safe haven it would provide. Her perception was hazy, however, and the ship that seemed so far away suddenly loomed large.

  Panicking, her grip loosened, her hands slipping, and she was floating free, her legs flailing vainly for a foothold as the rope swung back across the deck. She landed hard, the breath knocked from her, on a piece of sail stretched taut to catch her by the men below.

  "It's Cat!" At the sound of her name, her lashes fluttered open, and familiar faces wavered before her. "There's a game lad!"

  "Have you broken anything?" Cat recognized Bert's voice, but she could not answer or even shake her head, lacking both the wind and the will.

  Conscious only of a longing for her captain's strong, steady arms, Cat picked out his tall figure from a group at the rail. Shakily, she raised a hand to point in his direction, her fingers vainly reaching toward him for one brief moment before her arm fell limp and all went black.

  ***

  From the moment the figure had been spotted among the rigging of The Prize, Ransom suspected Ben Pike of some mischief. Although he had hoped to come to some agreement with the pirate, he had begun to fear that Pike would not willingly give over his female "passenger" no matter what reward or threat was tendered.

  And now... Cat? Had the boy been conscripted by the pirates? Ransom didn't have time to concern himself.

  "Take him to my cabin," Ransom said when Bert reported that the youth had been shot. He could spare no thoughts for anything except getting Catherine away from The Prize.

  "I'm not leaving without her!" Ransom shouted. But Pike pointed at Cat's disappearing figure and accused him of planting a spy aboard the pirate ship.

  When Pike vowed to blow the Reckless out of the water, Ransom saw no choice but to board the other vessel. "Close the distance, Peabody," he called out.

  But as soon as he gave the command, a new commotion broke out on the pirate ship, its cause soon apparent to all as smoke began to pour from the portholes. And Mr. Peabody, disobeying his first orders in a lifetime of punctilious service, steered clear and away from a blaze that could leap to the Reckless.

  Rooted to his spot, Ransom stared in horror at the smoke, now thick and black, that swiftly engulfed the other ship. In all his preparations, all his deliberations, all his plans to rescue Catherine, fire had never been a possibility.

  Bargaining, trickery, and brute force he had all considered, but this... Every nerve urged him to action, yet he could see no course to save her.

  How could he lose her after all that had happened? She was the only woman who had ever meant anything to him. Surely, she could not be trapped in the inferno that raged in front of his eyes. An anguished groan tore from his throat at the thought.

  Fire was shooting from the portholes of the pirate vessel when Ransom headed to the wheel himself, unable to stand still and watch it burn. The normally cool head that had kept him and the Reckless thriving was gone in a flood of emotion. Heedless of the consequences, he could only think of getting aboard the other ship.

  But suddenly the air was rent with explosions as the powder magazine went up, hailing debris down upon the Reckless. It was too late. No one could board the fiery hull of The Prize.

  Staring in disbelief, Ransom stood with his jaw clenched and his hands locked in a deathlike grip on the rail until the final remains sank under the waves. Only when bestirred by Bert did he begin directing the rescue of the survivors, searching for Catherine among a sorry lot of cutthroats that the crew of the Reckless would just as soon have watched drown.

  Every man was questioned, and all denied knowledge of a woman aboard, but these were not a trustworthy lot. The rest had perished in the blasts and the flames, and neither Ben nor Catherine was among those in the water.

  Still, Ransom sent the boat out, combing the waves, while he stood at the rail, looking for a blond head. He didn't even bother to acknowledge his first mate when Bert appeared beside him.

  "I dressed the nick on Cat's leg and gave him a sleeping draught," he said. "I put him in your bed, rather than the hammock, as I didn't think you'd mind."

  Ransom nodded absently.

  "Perhaps he'll be able to tell us something when he wakes," Bert said. "But I'm thinking the young lady wasn't aboard. Why there's not a man who's seen her-"

  Ransom cut him off with a gesture. "That will be all, Bert."

  But the first mate didn't leave. "Well, there's no use staying here, circling the wreckage and staring down at the sea," he said softly. "Come away from the rail, lad. The crew are starting to wonder what ails you."

  Finally tearing his gaze from the waters, Ransom let his first mate lead him below to the meager comfort of a bottle. When Bert suggested a course for Windlay, he didn't argue, and the first mate left him to his drink.

  Feelings Ransom would not name had been churning in his gut since he'd learned that Devlin had snatched Catherine. And now he suffered the pain he dreaded most, the kind he had not felt for years, somehow worse than ever before.

  Death again had taken someone he loved, despite all his efforts to avoid that most dangerous of all emotions. His denials had been useless, Ransom finally admitted. He loved Catherine Amberly, and now he had lost her.

  Ransom raised his glass silently as regret, grief's fellow, joined him. If only he had told her. If only he had listened to her. If only he hadn't left her. If only he could have killed Ben with his bare hands... Soon Devlin would be celebrating the achievement he had been working toward for so long: Ransom's undoing.

  As another bottle followed the first, Ransom was nearly unconscious when he heard Bert once again. "Are you trying to pass out, lad?" the first mate asked. "Come on, now. To bed with you."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Certain she was having the most compelling and delightful dream, Cat awoke to darkness and warmth and the scent of Ransom. In an attempt to prolong the illusion, she tried to burrow further into the pillow and discovered that it was not her familiar soft feather bolster. In fact, it was was solid and smooth against her cheek and gently moved, as if with some rhythm of its own.

  Her mind foggy, Cat struggled to separate dreams from reality, and she tensed as the memory of Blakely and Butcher Ben came flooding back. For long moments she could not place where she was, then she was shocked to realize she was in the captain's bed on the Reckless. And beside her - entwined with her - was Ransom himself.

  Her cheek was pressed against his naked chest, where she could hear the slow, steady beat of his heart and inhale deeply of... what seemed like an awful lot of liquor. Still, his chest was so warm and inviting that Cat knew a dizzying urge to press her lips to his taut skin. Her heart picked up its pace, while the heat in the cabin seemed to rise.

  And then suddenly she was aware of her precarious position.

  From the sound of his even breathing, Ransom wasn't aware, but the devil could just as easily be wide awake, staring at her, so Cat hesitated to move or look at him. She decided to keep listening to make sure he was still asleep and then roll from his body as gently as she could. But the minutes ticked by like hours, and her heart refused to slow its thundering.

  Just when she felt she could not keep still any longer, Ransom groaned and turned, flinging his arm about her in the process. Stifling a gasp, Cat moved with him, but now she was truly caught, her legs in their boy's breeches tangled with
Ransom's and one bare foot touching his toes. His arm rested heavy on her, and Cat realized that he must truly be asleep - or passed out from the smell of him.

  As she lay on her back, contemplating her next action, Ransom stirred again, nestling his face into her neck. Cat’s thoughts scattered, and she felt the lingering effects of the draught Bert had given her. She regretted it now, for she needed all of her wits about her to avoid the lure of the man beside her.

  At least he wasn't aware of her… yet. Cat was thankful for that and the fact that he had not seemed to guess her secret. For now, she was still an injured cabin boy, but should he wake, she would surely be unmasked.

  Her heart started thundering anew. As heady as it was to lie here in his arms, Cat could not bear to face his cold fury again, and if she must do so, she would prefer to be in her boy's guise. Lifting his heavy arm as gently as she could, she made her escape.

  ***

  When Cat opened her eyes once more, the bright light of day was dancing into the cabin. She yawned and stretched, drowsily aware of a sense of well-being that lingered from a lovely dream. With a sigh, she sat up in the chair, rubbed her sore neck, and looked about.

  Evidently, she had not been dreaming.

  Ransom lay in his bed, his handsome features relaxed in slumber, and she felt that familiar tug on her heart. Rising to her feet, she shook her head at the mess that littered the room. Picking up an empty glass, she sniffed. Rum, and stronger than pitch from the smell of it.

  Wrinkling her nose, Cat set it aside. She had never known Ransom to drink to excess. But how well do you really know him? she wondered. It was a question she did not care to consider.

  The stink of liquor, no matter how repugnant, reminded her that she had not eaten since sitting down with Amelia far too long ago. Leaving the captain still abed, Cat headed toward the galley, for even the cook's infamous biscuits would be welcome fare.

  Cat found Bert there and greeted her old friend with genuine affection. The two ate dinner companionably, Cat trying her best to recapture her old way of speech and lack of table manners. She thanked the first mate for tending to her injury even as the tried to avoid questions about it.