His Pirate Seductress (Love on the High Seas Book 3)

by Tamara Hughes

  Although he stood some twenty yards away, Brewer’s excitement was visible. “Hand the cross to the woman,” Brewer commanded. “She can give it to me.”

  Indeed she could, but she wouldn’t do it alone. Taking a deep breath, Thomas slipped the cross into the pouch and handed it to Catherine. He would have the cross back soon enough. She rushed forward, and Thomas followed, leaving enough distance to put Brewer at ease, but close enough to act if she needed help.

  Brewer stretched out his hand, and Catherine shook her head. “I want my son first,” she insisted.

  Jonas wiggled beneath Brewer’s grip, his eyes round. Brewer hesitated, glancing between his men, then lifted his hand from Jonas. The boy raced into his mother’s arms, and Catherine hugged him to her as if she’d never let him go again.

  “The cross,” Brewer demanded.

  Her son where he belonged, Catherine tossed the pouch toward Brewer and began to lead Jonas away, her arm wrapped securely around him.

  Brewer pulled a pistol from his belt. “Stop,” he shouted at Catherine. Damn him.

  At the cock of the hammer, she halted, spun about, and shoved her son behind her.

  Thomas’s heart lurched. Drawing his cutlass, he hurried to her side. “You have what you want. Let her and the boy go.”

  “Ah, but you’re wrong.” Brewer smirked. “I don’t have everything I want.” Brewer’s men crowded closer and Thomas used silent signals to better position his crew.

  Brewer glared, his eyes as cold as steel. “This might have been a simple trade before you became involved, Glanville. Before you decided to interfere in my affairs.”

  “This can still be a simple trade.” Thomas opened his arms wide in a show of peace. Although, admittedly, he still held a sword in one hand. “You have the cross, and we have the boy, just as you agreed.”

  “Just as I…?” Brewer shook with his fury. “I didn’t agree to you poking your nose into dealings that don’t concern you.”

  He lowered his hands. “I don’t know what you mean.” With the slightest of motions, he waved Catherine back. The closer she could get herself and her son to the edge of the trees where his brothers hid, the better her chance of escape. He didn’t look to see if she complied, but somehow he sensed her inch away.

  “I’ve had you watched,” Brewer snarled. “You visited your brothers.”

  He tilted his head and sent Brewer a confused look. “Is that so wrong? I’m not in London as often as I’d like, and family is important to me.” At least in some ways. He may not visit his brothers often, but he didn’t outright avoid them, either.

  “You had a need to introduce Mrs. Fry, a woman from St. Giles, a pirate’s widow, to your brothers?” Brewer stared past Thomas’s shoulder and nodded.

  Dread settled like a stone in Thomas’s gut a mere second before he heard Catherine gasp. He half turned and took a step toward her, then stopped at the sight. One of Brewer’s men stood behind her with a knife to her throat.

  She pushed Jonas a safe distance away. Hugh caught the boy and dragged him close. He struggled, his small fist landing a solid blow to Hugh’s thigh. Hugh stilled him with an arm around his chest. “I’m on your mother’s side,” he assured Jonas as he surveyed the men around them, watching for an attempt to snatch the boy. Hugh turned in a slow circle, his blade at the ready.

  Curse it. This was all his fault. He should have given Catherine the cross to trade for her son and let matters be. Maybe then Brewer would have allowed her and Jonas to simply walk away. Instead, he’d been selfish. His need to regain the Ruby Cross had only placed her in more danger.

  “You spoke to Walter Dunn, tried to warn him about me,” Brewer snapped. “Tried to get his help.”

  Sadly, it hadn’t done any good. “He already knows what you’ve been doing to his colleagues.”

  “Dunn is a dolt,” Brewer said with a harsh laugh. “He hopes that if he disregards what’s happening around him, he will be spared.”

  Was that a confession? Not quite. Since he’d already bungled the rescue of Catherine’s son, he might as well do what he could to send this devil to Newgate.

  “Burning Zachary Moyle’s house, the carriage accident that killed Roger Lyndon’s wife,” Thomas provided. “How many others have met accidents caused by your hand?”

  The barrel of Brewer’s pistol aimed squarely at Thomas’s chest. “Aye, I caused those accidents and more. All who spat on my father and had a hand in his demise have paid a price, save one.”

  “Walter Dunn.”

  Brewer dipped his head. “I’ve saved him for last. The bastard will soon be living in hell.” A wicked smile widened his lips, his glee disturbing. “Destroying Dunn’s reputation, poisoning his career—I will enjoy every minute of his descent.”

  Scanning the scene before him, Brewer’s smile faded. “Enough of this.” He turned to one of his men, George. “Kill them,” he ordered. “Kill them all, but start with him,” he said, pointing at Thomas.

  George gestured to his men and moved forward, his gun in his hand.

  His heart pounded a bit harder. If only he could draw his own pistol without being shot first.

  “I think we’ve heard enough.” Charles stepped out of the nearby brush, Stephen beside him. Both of them held firearms.

  What were they doing? He’d told them to stay hidden. They wouldn’t be able to stand as witnesses if they were dead.

  Brewer glared at George, no doubt wondering how he’d let the brothers go unnoticed. Directing the barrel of his weapon toward Charles and Stephen, Brewer backed away, the coward.

  His brothers advanced on George from separate directions, drawing the man’s attention from Thomas…and Catherine. Dear Lord. Thomas turned around, ready to fight for her. She didn’t need his help. Shifting slightly, she rammed her hand onto the hilt of the sword tucked into her belt, knocking the sheathed blade swiftly upward and into her captor’s groin. The fellow’s mouth dropped open in shock and pain, giving Catherine the leeway to push his knife aside and shove him to the ground. He lay there for a moment, clutching his manhood, moaning.

  “Jonas,” Catherine called, and her son came running. She pulled him to her side and prepared to fight off any who would stand in her way to freedom.

  From the corner of his eye, Thomas spotted someone dashing away. Brewer. Bloody hell. He had the Ruby Cross. Thomas took off after him, but stopped after a few steps and looked back. Catherine battled one of Brewer’s men, her son at her side. She could handle herself with her sword better than any man he’d ever seen, with the exception of himself. She would be fine without him. And his crew was still here to help her. No need to worry. No need to stop short of his goal. The Ruby Cross beckoned. He needed to catch Brewer and get the cross or it might be lost to him forever. He needed…

  Catherine stood before her son and parried another attack, as his crew and Brewer’s men exchanged blows all around her. Damn it. Thomas charged into the fray and joined Catherine as a second swordsman attempted to cut her down. Thomas blocked the swing.

  She cast him a grateful glance, and all thought of chasing after Brewer vanished. Instead, he and Catherine defended each other’s back and watched over her boy. A third opponent joined in and, as if they were of the same mind, he and Catherine fought as one, neither sustaining a nick. Brewer’s men soon fell or fled, and Thomas sought out his brothers, his breathing labored.

  Standing nearby, they were both alive, although a bit bruised. Each had used fists and blades rather than their pistols. Wise, considering each gun would have only one shot. Still, they shouldn’t have joined the fight at all. “I thought I told you to remain hidden.”

  Charles shrugged. “It didn’t seem like things were going as planned.”

  “Thought we could help save your hide,” Stephen added. “You’re welcome.”

  Thomas hung his head and cursed his own bloody name. They were right. He should be grateful. He looked them each in the eye with the respect they deserved. “Thank yo
u.” Catherine had said his brothers cared more about him than a foolish competition. Perhaps she was right, too.

  “I’ve sent one of your crew for the constable,” Stephen said. “I’ll make sure these men are locked up. As for Brewer, you may want to follow him so we can direct the authorities where to go for the arrest.”

  Thomas nodded. “I’ll take what’s left of my crew and go after him.” Both to bring him back for an arrest, and for the cross. “You and Charles escort Catherine and her son away from here.”

  Charles stepped forward, an eagerness giving his features a boyish charm. “You don’t want our help with Brewer?”

  Stephen’s eyes rolled heavenward. “You may go if you wish, Charles. I’ll accompany Mrs. Fry. Besides, I have much work to do. Brewer’s admission of guilt will help immensely, but the more evidence we can find tying him to these felonies, the stronger our case against him will be.”

  Charles sent Stephen a look of perplexity. “Simon Brewer ordered his men to kill our brother, as well as Mrs. Fry and her child, and all of Thomas’s men.”

  “Yes. Yes. All will be included in my charges against him. Which only further proves how much there is to be done,” Stephen explained.

  Charles shook his head. “Solicitors.”

  “Politicians,” Stephen volleyed back with a smile. “Now let’s get Mrs. Fry and her son to Thomas’s house.”

  “I don’t need an escort,” Catherine argued. Her son clinging to her side, she wrapped her arm tightly around the lad.

  “Charles, there’s no need for you to help me search for Brewer,” Thomas insisted. “You’ve done your part. No need to risk yourselves further, and I leave the decision of an escort up to Catherine.” He glanced at the woman in question, his brave girl. “She’s quite capable of taking care of herself.” To her alone, he added, “Please wait for me in my home. We have much to discuss.”

  Only after her nod of agreement did he turn away and summon his men. They’d best go if they were to apprehend Brewer before the night was spent.

  …

  Sitting on Thomas’s bed, Catherine hugged Jonas to her as she rocked him back and forth. She should be urging her son to rest, but she couldn’t let go of him. Not yet. He may have calmed down since the events of tonight, but she had yet to relax one whit. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed. If she’d been a better mother, kept a closer eye on her son… She should have protected him from the likes of Brewer and his men.

  Jonas allowed her cuddling as he peered at the bedroom, fascinated by the luxury. This room alone was larger than their entire living space. Or rather, their former living space. By now someone else would have snatched up the room they’d left vacant, no matter how pitiful it had been.

  “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer, although Jonas looked well.

  He pulled away and tugged his shirt past his shoulder. In the light of the candle, the bruise was barely visible, already taking on a yellow hue. “I fought them when they first took me and Grandmother.” His gaze fell to her male clothing again, a topic they’d discussed some time ago. “I tried to get away.”

  “I know,” she assured him. “None of this was your fault.”

  Tears glistened in his light blue eyes. “Grandmother died in her sleep two nights ago.” He turned his face away and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  She pulled him in close and rubbed his back as her throat grew thick and hot tears stung her eyes. At least her mother hadn’t come to a violent end. Of that she could be grateful.

  “If I had escaped, maybe Grandmother…” Jonas’s voice hitched.

  Oh, her poor boy. “No, Jonas. You are not to blame for her death. Don’t think in such a way. Your grandmother has always had a weak constitution. It was only a matter of time.” For years, she’d worried about when her mother’s final day would come. Even with forewarning, the loss was just as painful as when her father had suddenly passed. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Tears of sorrow and relief. She hadn’t heard Jonas’s voice for nearly two weeks. “I worried about you so much. I’m very glad to have you back.”

  “Don’t cry, Mama,” Jonas urged, patting her on the shoulder. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  Her heart aching, she drew in a quavering breath. Not so bad? Her lovely son was trying to cheer her up. She wept all the harder.

  “We had a room with two beds,” he said with false cheer. “I didn’t have to share once. And we had meals, twice a day. Big ones, with meat and cheese.”

  She gave a shaky laugh and blinked her tears away. “Sounds like you ate better than you ever did at home.”

  He snuggled in closer. “I missed you.”

  Her heart nearly broke. “Oh Jonas, I missed you, too.”

  “Will they come back for me?” Jonas shuddered in her arms, and she thrust her own tattered emotions aside.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I will never let them get to you again. Never.” Her son would be safe now and for always. For her own sanity, she had to believe that, whether true or not.

  As for Simon Brewer, Thomas would ensure he’d never trouble anyone again. “I have a…friend who will make sure those men go to jail because of what they’ve done.” Between Thomas and his brothers, Brewer would pay. “In fact, at present we are in my friend Thomas Glanville’s house.”

  Jonas’s eyes widened. “He must be rich.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Although he certainly had more wealth than they did, and after he regained the Ruby Cross… “Jonas, what would you think about going on a trip?”

  “What kind of trip?”

  Sailing the seas. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, but what if it never came to be? She wouldn’t know for sure until Thomas came back. If Thomas came back. Her pulse jumped. She glanced at the door, wishing he would walk through. He’d gone after a ruthless criminal who had murdered for vengeance. What if Thomas… No, he was a capable man, intelligent and highly skilled. He would return.

  And when he did, what would happen? He’d never actually asked her to marry him. If he did, would she say yes?

  “Never mind. You should get some sleep.” She pulled the covers up and tucked him in, kissing him on the forehead. “I love you, Jonas.”

  “I love you, too, Mama.” He closed his eyes, and she lay down next to him, reluctant to leave his side. Her boy, back with her where he belonged.

  Tonight, Thomas could have immediately chased after Brewer when he’d seen the cur run away, but he hadn’t. He’d fought by her side, protected her son. Thomas was a man of honor. And the way they’d worked together, as if they were of one mind, one heart. What would marriage to a man such as Thomas be like? To have a partner to count on instead of fending for herself. A good father for her son, who could give Jonas a better future. The idea lightened her heart. Life with Thomas. Would it come to be? Somehow it seemed too good to be true. And yet, she hoped and prayed, because deep inside, she knew… She loved him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thomas strode toward the nearest stable, Hugh at his side. Hours had passed since Brewer had run from them with the cross, and still no sign of him. He hadn’t been at his club, or at home, and his wife… Brewer’s wife knew something of her husband’s location, but wouldn’t say. Although the glint of anger in her eyes gave Thomas a fair guess. Dread pooled in his stomach at the thought.

  If Brewer left London, he would have needed a horse. While this stable might not be the one Brewer typically used, it was the closest, and therefore the fastest way for Brewer to escape. As expected at this time of morning, the stable was still dark as pitch. When they neared the door, an older boy armed with a pistol came into view. He nodded toward them. “Need a horse or carriage?”

  “Among other things,” Thomas replied.

  The boy leaned back and shouted, “Gil! Customer!”

  An old man, his gray hair in a queue and his rumpled clothes covered in hay dust, met them at the door. “How many times…” he rasped out
, as if his throat, too, was coated in the dust. He eyed them up and down. “What can I do for you?”

  “Did Mr. Simon Brewer take a horse from this stable?” Thomas asked. No sense in beating about the bush. They had no time to waste.

  Gil’s thick gray brows lowered. “Don’t rightly know.”

  “He would have been here not long before us,” Hugh provided. “He’s short, potbellied, and carries himself as if he owns the world.”

  The stableman cocked his head to the side and rubbed his jaw. “Hmm. Memory’s not as good as it used to be.”

  So that was the way of it then. “Would a few coins in your hand improve your recollection?” Thomas guessed, already reaching into his pocket.

  “Might at that.” Gil glanced at the boy, and jerked his head to the side, dismissing his guard. The boy disappeared inside the stable.

  Thomas placed a few shillings in the stableman’s palm, catching a whiff of his stench—hay and manure. The old coot frowned and jiggled the coins. “Nope, nothin’ yet.”

  Very well. Thomas handed him a couple more.

  Gil shook his head. “Still not enough.”

  Hugh snickered, and Thomas cut him a look that quelled his mirth. “Tell me then, how much did Brewer pay you for your silence?” he demanded.

  The old man hesitated before answering. “Twelve shillings.”

  That much. “Fine.” He counted out the coins and paid up. While now he knew Brewer had stopped by, he needed as much information as this man could give. “Did he say where he was headed?”

  “He might have,” Gil hedged, depositing the shillings into his pocket before holding out his hand again.

  Bloody parasite. He tossed him another coin, his last one.

  “Mentioned something about Bath, he did.”

  Headed west then. “Was there anyone with him?”

  “Couldn’t say.”

  Like hell he couldn’t. This one needed a good neck wringing. Hugh sniffled and huffed, unsuccessfully holding in a laugh. “Have any money?” Thomas growled at him. “I’m fresh out.”