by Lydia Dare
“She’s on that ship?”
The driver nodded and looked fairly pleased about the entire situation. Damn his hide. Black-hearted coachman.
Gray looked back to the sea and his heart constricted. Livi was gone. She was actually gone. But he could still see the ship. She wasn’t too far away. He could still reach the brigantine if he tried hard enough.
He ran back toward the docks, brushing past sailors and fishermen alike. He reached the edge of the farthest dock and began to tug off his boots. He’d swim all the way across the Atlantic if he had to. It wasn’t too late, but it was damn close.
“Absolutely not,” Wes barked as he caught up to Gray on the dock. “The water is freezing. You’ll die of the cold. No.”
“Don’t tell me no, Wes,” Gray said, almost ashamed of the pleading in his own voice. “I can’t let her leave. I can still catch her.”
Wes clapped a hand on Gray’s shoulder. “Grayson.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulder in a rough, comforting grip. “Put your boots back on before someone thinks you’re mad.”
Gray ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “She’s right there,” he breathed, gesturing toward the brigantine, which was still within sight.
“There will be another ship.”
Another ship. Gray glanced around the harbor. There were dozens of other ships. A shred of hope began to form. “I can follow her to New Orleans.”
Wes nodded. “You could.” He rubbed at the side of his nose as his lips began to quirk.
“Just what do you find amusing about this?”
Finally, a chuckle broke from Wes. “Aside from the fact that you’re standing on the edge of the Bristol docks in your stockings?”
Gray glanced down at his feet and wiggled his toes. He supposed he did look fairly ridiculous, not that he cared what anyone else thought.
“Put your boots back on before someone steals them.”
“Hadley!” a voice called from behind him.
Gray spun quickly, but not quickly enough. A blow hit his left cheek like a hammer across the side of his face. He fell to his arse. Gray leaned on his elbows and looked up at his assailant, working his jaw open and closed. It wasn’t broken, but not through any fault of Armand Mayeux’s pugilistic form.
The man glared down at him. “That’s for ruining my sister.” He planted his booted foot on Gray’s hip and gave it a hard shove. “And this is for making her cry.” His boot shoved him toward the edge of the dock.
Wes shoved Armand back a few steps. Thank God, his twin was there or Gray might have found his way into the sea after all. But Armand advanced just as quickly as Gray lumbered back to his feet. Gray held up his hand as though that action alone could warn the man away.
Armand swung, but this time Gray was ready. He ducked and the American’s fist flew over his head. Armand charged him like a bull and hit Gray in the side with his shoulder.
“Stop it!” Wes snapped. “People are staring.” He pulled Armand off Gray and shoved the American back a step. Standing between the two of them, Wes held one hand on Gray’s chest and one on Armand’s. “Enough.”
Even though he could have done without the punch to his jaw, Gray was never so happy to see anyone as he was to see Armand Mayeux. The earl’s coachman must have been mistaken. Armand was still here, so Livi had to be as well. “Where’s Livi?” he demanded. “I need to see her.”
Armand spoke between heaving breaths. “If my brother did what I asked, she’s far from here by now.”
Gray glanced back at the brigantine, still edging its way out to the open waters. That didn’t make any sense. Armand Mayeux was still in England. “But you’re here.”
“Stayed behind to kill you.” Armand smiled menacingly.
“You wouldn’t be the first to try it today,” Wes grumbled under his breath. Then he shook his head and said louder, “No one is going to kill anyone.”
Gray wasn’t so sure about that. He might very well kill Honeywell for abducting him and shooting him, and then he might very well kill Armand Mayeux for sending Livi away before Gray could reach her.
Armand slowly grinned. “I wouldn’t be so confident, were I you. After what he’s done, I am well within my rights to rid the world of him.”
Gray balled his right hand into a fist. How he would love to crash it into the damned American’s nose.
Wes shot him a warning glance as though he knew precisely what Gray was thinking. “That will hardly help your cause,” he muttered.
Armand snorted. “He has no cause.” Then he glared at Gray. “I’m just glad she’s gone. Away from you.”
“There’s nowhere she could go that I wouldn’t follow,” Gray said quietly.
“Follow her?” Armand charged at him again but Wes shoved them apart once more. “Is it not enough that everyone in England knows you took her innocence? Now you think you’ll follow her home and spread the news there?” Armand shook his head viciously. “Not while there’s breath in my lungs.”
Took her innocence? The accusation made Gray’s mouth drop open. “What’s he talking about?” He glanced at his twin.
Wes shrugged.
“You are forever banned from seeing my sister.” Armand tried to reach around Wes to grab Gray’s jacket, but Wes pushed him back again. “Her virtue might not be intact, but let her have her pride.”
“What the devil are you talking about? I didn’t take her virtue.” Gray snarled the last in the startled man’s face. Not that he hadn’t wanted to. Not that he hadn’t dreamt about doing so. But he’d be married to her first.
Mayeux snorted.
Gray ignored him. His head spun as he tried to sort out a plan. But there was only one option. He had to find her, to make everything right. “I need to book passage to America.”
“The hell you do.” Mayeux lunged for Gray once more.
Gray had suffered enough. He sidestepped Wes and, with both hands, sent Armand Mayeux crashing to the docks on his arse. “See here! I don’t know what you said to make her leave me. I don’t know why the world has suddenly turned mad. But the one thing I am very certain of is Livi’s innocence, and if you impugn her name one more time…”
“But she crinkled her nose.” Armand glared up at Gray, though his eyes lost a bit of their hatred.
What the devil was that supposed to mean? The American made less sense the more he talked. Had the man been imbibing all day? “I beg your pardon?”
Armand shook his head as though to clear his mind. Then he pushed back to his feet.
“Keep your distance,” Wes warned.
But Armand kept his eyes locked with Gray’s. “Give me your word as a Lycan that my sister’s virtue is intact.”
Something Gray never thought he’d have to say to any man. He might not be the most refined gentleman in England, but he was honorable. Still, if he could somehow get Livi to forgive him, Armand Mayeux would be his brother by marriage. It would be better to have the man as an ally than an enemy. Gray swallowed his pride and said, “I give you my word, Livi is an innocent. I love her too much to ever see her sullied.”
A strange smile settled on Armand’s face as though he was still trying to make sense of the situation. “Damn it all, I actually believe you.” He shook his head again.
“A lot of good it does either of us,” Gray said as Livi’s ship began to disappear against the horizon.
Wes heaved a sigh. “Let’s find a vessel willing to take you to your lady.”
Gray looked at his twin expectantly. Wes had to know he had pockets to let. What a sorry state he found himself in. No blunt. No clean clothes. No boots on his damned feet at the moment. But mostly, no Livi.
Wes reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a purse. He tossed it casually in Gray’s direction. “From Dash,” he said with a grin. “Said he thought you might need it.” Then he clapped Gray on the shoulder and said, “What are you waiting for, brother?”
Armand raced to the closest frigate. “You,” he called to s
omeone on deck. “Where are you sailing to?”
“Glasgow!” the sailor called back.
Damn, damn, damn.
Gray scooped his boots off the dock and ran to the next ship, a sloop of some sort. “Where are you sailing for?”
A rather tanned sailor looked over the side of the ship and said with a heavy Spanish accent, “Tomorrow we leave for Cadiz, señor.”
Tomorrow, tomorrow. “What about today?” Gray stepped closer to the small ship and tossed Dash’s purse in the air and caught it. “If you’ll help me reach the brigantine that just left, you can have this whole thing.”
The Spaniard shook his head. “Captain Alvarez is in town. You would have to talk to him.”
Gray didn’t have time to find some Spanish sea captain. He’d like to borrow the ship and sail it himself if he knew how. He shook his head and bolted toward a schooner not far away. A young boy leaned over the side, applying some sort of resin to the bow.
“Find your captain for me,” Gray ordered, his heart pounding harder and harder, knowing that Livi got farther and farther away from him with each second that passed.
“Excusez-moi!” The boy dropped his bucket of resin into the water below.
Armand was at Gray’s side in an instant. French flew off his tongue at a rate Gray could never have kept up with, though he did pick out the name Philippe Mayeux more than once. The startled boy spoke rapidly in return, and then he scampered off to parts unknown.
Armand heaved a sigh. “They’ll take us.”
But he’d only talked to a cabin boy. “They will?” Gray asked, not willing to let his hopes rise.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice her to begin with, but my focus was elsewhere when I arrived.” Armand gestured to the ship’s name, Madame Gracieuse, emblazoned in gold letters on the side. “The Graceful Lady,” he translated. “A play on my mother’s name.”
A play on Lady Grace Mayeux’s name? Gray blinked at his would-be brother-in-law, who was now grinning ear to ear. “Your mother?”
“You didn’t know my father runs a shipping empire?” Armand chuckled. “I suppose you don’t love Livi for her money, then. What a relief.”
At that moment, a salty old captain with a face full of scraggly white whiskers appeared on the bow. “Monsieur Mayeux?”
Again Armand spoke in rapid-fire French and gestured to Gray several times. The ship’s captain ordered the gangway lowered, or at least Gray assumed he did, as the gangway was lowered after a bark from the old man. Without hesitation, Gray followed Armand up the gangway and onto the ship.
Armand chuckled. “Captain Lafleur actually spoke with Etienne earlier. Do you believe it?”
Gray wasn’t sure he believed anything anymore. “We were very lucky.”
“Luck?” Armand echoed. Then he shook his head. “Destiny. Providence. ‘It is sometimes better to abandon one’s self to destiny,’” he quoted.
Gray scoffed; he couldn’t help it. “You are a brave man to quote Napoleon Bonaparte in England.”
The American laughed harder. “Ah, but we are not in England, mon frère.” He gestured to the deck at their feet. “We are aboard the Madame Gracieuse. And if she cannot catch Livi, no one can. So abandon yourself to your destiny, Mr. Hadley, as you no longer have any control.”
That was the damned truth of it. Gray couldn’t make the schooner depart any faster than it was going to. Still, he couldn’t help from pacing the deck as the French crew lifted the ship’s anchor, echoed the captain’s orders, and pulled ropes this direction or that, all very calmly and all very orderly. Their methodical nature made Gray want to rip out his own hair in frustration as he waited to depart Bristol to catch his destiny.
Twenty-Seven
Livi leaned against the starboard railing of the Aspire, staring at the dark water below but not really seeing it. She should have gotten married today. She should be in Bath at this very moment, surrounded by her brothers and her new family. She should have had Grayson by her side for now and always. She certainly shouldn’t be on her way to blasted Boston with Etienne!
“My child,” someone behind her mumbled, breaking Livi out of her reverie.
She turned around to find a Catholic priest standing just a few feet away with a greenish tint to his plump face. Father Antonio’s visage flashed in her mind and Livi scowled. If she never saw another Catholic priest in all her days, it would be too soon. “Father,” she mumbled in both greeting and farewell before walking to the other side of the ship.
Before she could settle against the railing on the port side, she spotted Etienne headed in her direction. “Boston?” she grumbled. “You couldn’t have found some place closer to home?”
Her brother shrugged. “Captain Lafleur said this was our best option if we needed to leave quickly. Which we did. We’ll only have to be in Boston a day or two.”
“It’s freezing there,” Livi complained. She knew she was being difficult, but she couldn’t help it. Nothing had turned out right, and it seemed nearly impossible for her to be pleasant.
Etienne looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Ah, Father Patrick, is the sea air not helping you?”
Father Patrick? Her brother was already acquainted with the man of the cloth? Perfect. She’d have to suffer meals with the priest all the way to blasted Boston. Or she could hole up in the cramped quarters Etienne had managed to secure for her. That option was probably safer for everyone.
“I think I just need ta get my sea legs, Mr. Mayeux,” the priest replied, his Irish accent soft and lilting against the breeze.
“And a bit of ginger,” Etienne suggested. “You might want to ask about some in the galley. It can work wonders.”
“Thank ye. I think I’d be lost without yer assistance, my child.”
Etienne returned his gaze to Livi and smiled. “Nice fellow, but not built for sea travel.”
Livi heaved a sigh. “I am going to my quarters. I’ll reemerge in godforsaken Boston.” But before she could move another step, the sound of a cannon in the distance caught her attention.
Father Patrick’s face turned from green to white and back. “Ye doona think there are pirates?”
Etienne laughed. “Not in the Bristol Channel, Father.” He left Livi, returned to the starboard side, and shook his head as though he couldn’t quite believe what he saw.
“What is it?” Livi asked, crossing the deck to stand beside her brother.
“I think,” Etienne began, “it’s Madame Gracieuse.”
“The Madame Gracieuse?”
Etienne didn’t answer her, though. He rushed past her, yelling to the seamen, “Lower the sails! Lower the sails!”
Livi rushed up beside him and tugged on Etienne’s sleeve. “What’s happening?” she asked.
He looked down at her for no more than a moment as he stared at the quickly approaching ship. “It appears as though we’re being hailed.”
“Hailed by whom?”
“Armand, would be my guess,” Etienne said. “Perhaps he dispensed with Hadley’s body much quicker than any of us expected.” He grinned down at her until she punched him in the side. He winced and rubbed the area. “What was that for?”
“For wishing Gray dead.”
“Oh, I more than wish it,” he said, much too chipper for her own happiness. He rubbed his hands together expectantly and his eyes twinkled. “I can’t wait to hear how Armand did it.”
Livi lifted a hand to shield the sun from her eyes and tried to pick Armand out from the others on the deck of the ship. But then she saw him, the last man she’d ever expected to see again, standing there on the bow of the ship, his pose mimicking hers. Gray lowered his hand from atop his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His stance was wide, his legs parted to help him keep his balance. His coat billowed behind him, caught by the fierce wind. Gray spoke over his shoulder to Armand, who stood at his side, pointing toward the Aspire.
Livi’s heart skipped a beat when Gray raised his hand and waved at
her. She lifted her fingers to her lips despite their quivering.
Etienne’s arm dropped around her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Liv?” he asked. “I told you that it’s just Armand. No need to worry that we’re being besieged by pirates.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze just as a tear fell down her cheek and a miniscule amount of hope bloomed in her heart.
Livi lifted her hand to wave back. When she did, Gray stepped toward the rail and leaned both hands up on it. He moved his mouth as though he was speaking to her, but she couldn’t make out the words. They were snatched away by the wind as quickly as he spoke them. But his schooner was rapidly approaching.
Livi stepped forward, placing her hands on the railing to keep from falling to the deck in a giant heap of muddled thoughts. Gray was coming after her.
“Who’s that with Armand?” Etienne asked, scrunching his face up as he regarded the other ship, which was coming closer and closer every second. The Aspire’s sails had dropped, allowing the Madame Gracieuse to overtake them. “Is that Hadley?” Etienne groaned. He looked down at Livi, taking in what must have been a shocked expression.
It was. It was him. He was coming for her. Grayson Hadley did want her after all.
Gray’s schooner pulled alongside, and Livi watched as Gray and Armand looked at one another, a challenge in both their eyes if she’d ever seen one. Then they launched themselves over the railing, to the wild cheers and hollers of Madame Gracieuse’s crew.
Livi’s gaze was trained on Gray as his foot found purchase on the top of the schooner’s rail. Then he and Armand jumped from schooner to brigantine at the same time. Of course Armand jumped a little farther, having done this sort of thing before, landing hard on the deck behind her. Armand had grown up at the shipyards, and his footing was surer than most. But Gray faltered as he swung his arms and barely caught the Aspire’s rail. Livi screamed and closed her eyes, unable to watch him sink into the blue depths of the sea below.
“Pull me up, Mayeux,” Gray’s voice called, and Livi’s eyes flew open. That was when she saw fingers clutching the outside rail of the ship. She rushed forward and looked over the edge. Gray’s eyes twinkled up at her. “Afternoon, Livi,” he said, as though he was meeting her over tea. A grin tugged at his lips, although he still struggled to pull himself aboard. He hung there like a giant fish on a hook.