The anger that erupted from him should not have surprised her, but she gasped as he jerked her up from the table by her arm. It felt as if the arm bone had been pulled from its socket. Froth appeared in the corners of his mouth as he pulled her to him.
Punching him in the shoulder with her free hand, she tried to stop his momentum by stiffening her legs. He dug into her arm, dragging her along by tangling his other hand in the hair at the nape of her neck.
She screeched at the top of her lungs, “Release me!”
He yanked her to the door, ripping bits of her hair out by the roots.
“Oh, aye, I’ll release you once we’re up on deck. You’re going to learn a few lessons about fighting men, wench. And then we’ll see how well you duel with my prick.”
She fought and kicked, but her body had been beaten down over the past days. The strength in her legs had diminished.
The bright light of the fading sun burned her eyes as they burst through the doors leading to the deck. Panting, still clutching his hand where it fisted in her hair, she cursed him and anyone else within shouting distance in both English and her native Irish tongue.
“Oliver. Creech. Come here!” He yelled into the air, drowning out the curses she spewed in every direction.
“Aye, cap’n.”
“Yes, sir.”
The voices boomed from the front of the ship. Boots tramped on the deck, becoming louder and louder as they neared them.
Jericho threw her down at his feet, releasing her hair. She spat on his boots.
“Have a look at Oliver and Creech here, wench.”
He squeezed her chin in a vice-like grip, forcing her to look at the crewmen he’d ordered about. Anne’s fear returned. The two men standing above her might well give Raphael a good go-around, so large were they.
Oliver and Creech, she knew not which was which, were no doubt as tall as her bodyguard, and just as stout, burly, and sturdy. One man’s bald head shone with the light from the sun, while the other’s was black as a crow’s feather, and cropped above his ears. Both were tanned and weathered by the sun, and had hairy, meaty forearms, and long, powerful legs.
Should those two hold her down, she’d have no ability to stop anyone from raping her.
“I see you understand. These two,” he pointed at their chests, “will have you ready for me in no time.”
Anne’s heart thumped against her breast and a cavern opened in the bottom of her stomach. She just might vomit.
Jericho’s lips spread wide with his greasy smile. “Mates, I’m going to give Anne here a cutlass—”
“But, she’s a—” one man began in disbelief.
“—and Oliver, you will be first. She’s wantin’ a fight, and we’re going to give it to her. When you disarm her, I want you to do whatever is necessary, and then you can take her. Right here on the deck.”
Anne swallowed the knot in her throat. She’d fought men for the past three years, and some as big as the bald one now grinning, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The element of surprise and quickness aided her before. She had to hope they would help with her now, even with her tired limbs.
“And, Creech, when Oliver here has finished with her, I’m going to give her the cutlass again. Then, you can do the same.”
A glob of tobacco juice splattered the deck beside her hand as she remained sprawled there.
“What say you, Anne? We could just dispense with this nastiness if you’d like. You can just stand now, and return to our cabin and undress yourself. Your choice.”
She could see clearly in the smug grin he gave her that he thought she’d take the easy route and allow him to ravish her instead of taking on two of his burliest shipmates. His lined face as he looked about at the rest of the watching crew made her so angry, she was sure she could kill everyone on the ship without a backward glance, if it were possible.
“I think you know my answer.” Proud of the steadiness of her voice, she smiled through the swelling in her face.
Jericho sighed, reaching down a long arm to her. “That is what I suspected. I don’t know why you have to make it so difficult.”
Anne swatted his hand away and pulled herself, aching legs and all and raising her chin, to stand before all three men. “I’ll fight these two buffoons.” She gave each of them a narrowed glare. “And, if I best you, I shall be left in peace the remainder of this voyage.”
Surprise registered on their faces, Oliver and Creech gave her wide-eyed stares. At any other time in her life, she would have laughed, but she was too tired, angry, and disheartened to do so. Visions of her children’s faces appeared in her mind. She thought of Holt with his cheeky dimples and bright emerald eyes, Garret with the mop of dark curls and chubby cheeks, and Frederica with the stubborn set to her little chin and tree-bark colored eyes. A pair of silvery eyes lined with dark green, a smile that could still make her stomach flutter appeared in her mind, too. All the people who she held fast to her heart.
“You think to disarm my two best fighters?”
“I’m going to die trying, yes.” She held out her hand, palm up. “Now, where is that cutlass? Or, shall we use pistols?”
The captain clenched his jaw, his lips thinning with displeasure. “Very well. Although, I would have liked to bed you first . . .” He shrugged, yelling to a sailor to bring each of them a cutlass from the hold.
Oliver and Creech sized her up, snickering at the differences in not only her strength to theirs, but the slightness of her weight against their stocky muscle.
A sailor clambered up onto the deck moments later carrying three long, curved blades with wide, black guards surrounding the handle. Anne felt a moment’s hope as a blade was handed to her, and she curled her right hand around the hilt. Memories assailed her, and energy flowed through her. She’d been known for her skill with a sword, and pistols.
Lowering the blade and looking down its length, she felt its weight and examined its sharpness. She raised it slightly and pointed it in Dobison’s direction. “There will be a matching scar along your throat to that on your arm before this day is over.”
“Oliver, go, bury yourself in this bitch.” He fluttered his hand in Oliver’s direction. Apparently, Oliver was the sturdier of the two, and bald.
His dark eyes held hers for a moment before his gaze traveled down to rest on her breasts. He licked his lips.
Anne bowed to him. “Oliver, I shall enjoy killing you.” She then backed away to give herself room to maneuver. He pressed his lips together, a grim line that indicated he prepared to win, and rushed at her, his blade coming down above her.
She reacted in time to raise the cutlass above her head, the clang of the blades echoing on the air. The force of that first blow shook her arm all the way up her shoulder.
Chapter 25
Hard work kept his mind from despairing over the moment Anne overheard his conversation with Cormac, and her answer to his plea for her to return to him.
Throughout the voyage, Addison and Raphael passed the time joining the crew and swabbing decks, repairing sails, and all things men accomplished upon a ship . . . even a pirate ship.
He’d found it rather amusing he’d once envisioned himself as a gentleman pirate. Truth be told, the life upon a pirate vessel so far had been nearly identical to that on one of his merchant vessels. No, his ships had no cannon. But, knowing how quickly the Royal Fortune sliced through the ocean, while having a full hold plus twenty guns, he’d consider outfitting his ships with cannon. Besides, one never knew when one would come upon a pirate vessel.
The captain allowed him and Raphael the other substantial cabin aboard his ship, and they’d been handed a mattress to throw upon the floor to accommodate them both. They’d been given every courtesy, a meal in the captain’s quarters every evening, and plenty of c
amaraderie from the most well-dressed pirate crew Addison had heard of. While he’d only heard tales of the behavior of pirates, he’d not personally encountered any in the few years he’d been sailing between England and Charles Town.
Pirates were known to be filthy, uncouth men, who rarely brushed their hair, wore sailor’s garb riddled with holes, and held no qualms with slicing a throat from ear to ear without so much as a by-your-leave.
Glancing up at the captain standing at the helm, Addison grinned at the comparison. Roberts—the singular name as the captain introduced himself upon a proper introduction during the first leg of their voyage—had a gleam in his eye that clearly said not to cross him. But, Addison knew they would become fast friends. He was a good sort, and his men respected him a great deal.
The captain wore quite fashionable clothing for a pirate, as well as his crew; always with a billowy, dark shirt, dark breeches, hose, and boots. There were rings, bracelets, necklaces, and earrings adorning him. Roberts’ long, black hair was always neatly pulled back into a bright colored ribbon. Today’s ribbon happened to be a shade of orange that reminded him of Anne’s sunset hair.
Thinking of her had the effect it did on him every moment of every day—an ache where his heart thudded against his ribs.
The tavern lad had said Anne embarked perhaps four to five hours before their arrival in the Hound and the Hare. The Royal Fortune set sail not long after. But, a sudden storm on their first morning had blown them off course, or so Roberts had informed him after the storm subsided. He’d been assured that the speed of the ship would make up the distance in no time, and they’d reach the Swallow before she neared Jamaica.
Addison was relieved to hear it, but what they would do prior to reaching port, he had no idea. Roberts had mentioned his score to settle with Dobison. The captain seemed a decent sort, even reminded Addison of his older brother, Lucien.
A call from the crow’s nest pulled him from musings.
“Ship ahead, captain. Ship ahead.”
Addison’s heart lurched, but he strode to the helm to stand beside Roberts as they looked out to the horizon. Sure enough, a ship floated in the distance. Not close enough to see anyone on board or any activity, but she was there.
“When we will know if she’s the one, Roberts?”
Roberts kept his eyes trained on their quarry, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Aye, that’s the Swallow. I know her build. I’ve had the privilege of encountering her a few times.”
“Excellent.” Addison clapped him on the back. “This may be the fastest, most competent vessel I’ve had the pleasure to sail, Roberts. My thanks for your help.”
“She’s gotten me out of a few binds, so to speak.” A wry smile curved his lips.
Addison chuckled. “I have no doubt.” He mirrored Roberts’ stance, and watched the Swallow in the distance, hoping the time would pass in a faster manner. “What is the plan, then? Do we get near them, hail them? Take the long boats over?”
“Something like that.” A smile in the man’s voice made the hair on the back of Addison’s neck prickle. He nodded over to the ship. “We’ll be on her in about an hour. Let’s take a quick meal and reconvene here after.”
Addison tipped his head. “Sounds reasonable. I’ll get my man and we’ll meet you here shortly.”
Raphael worked diligently, bare-chested and sweating, hauling cannon balls in neat piles near the cannons on the port side of the ship. Addison raised a brow at the activity. Shrugging, he approached Raphael and invited the bodyguard to take a meal with him, and to inform him of their closeness to Anne. The older man’s turquoise eyes narrowed, glittering with what Addison would guess was anger.
By all accounts, Anne’s bodyguard could not speak, having no tongue, but his eyes were expressive. No doubt, he felt angry at having his mistress slip through his fingers. By the determination in his steady gaze, he knew Raphael would do anything to make sure she was returned to her rightful, safe place.
That was exactly what Addison was thinking. Her rightful place was at Cranford Hall. Beside him. With him.
They wolfed down the fare in silence, Addison used to the man’s unnatural quiet. He spent the rest of the time washing off as much of the grime from the days’ work as possible, changing into one of Roberts’ billowy shirts. He returned to the deck to a curious-eyed Raphael.
“What? Roberts isn’t the only fellow who can pull off the pirate-look.” Addison held back a grin, and the older man’s lips twitched.
“We’ll be upon her in one mile, mate.” Roberts’ deep voice called as he joined the captain at the helm. He held a spyglass to one eye. “And, judging by this, we’ll need to have a proper discussion.”
Addison frowned, peering out to the vessel. From this distance, he could make out men running about the deck, perhaps a few in the rigging, but nothing of substance stood out of the ordinary.
“Judging by what? What do you see?” He strained to look again. Not seeing anything of note without a spyglass, he turned to glare at Roberts. “We haven’t discussed your outstanding issue with Dobison. You aren’t going to settle your differences peacefully, I take it.”
Roberts moved the spyglass away, meeting his eyes, anger on his face. “The issue I have to settle with Dobison is one of grave matter. He had many of my crew murdered, and sank one of my prime ships.”
“That is a very grave matter, indeed. My condolences, Roberts.” Thinking of Anne, he had no idea why she would leave with such a man. “Were you engaged in battle?”
“Actually, no. It happened over a year ago. Two of my ships were in Jamaica. Half the crew had gone to land, enjoying the spoils of our most recent—adventure.” He smiled at the memory, showing straight, white teeth. “I’d remained onboard the Royal Fortune with some of my crew, as I’m not much for the hovels pirates frequent for the most part. However, Dobison and his captain at the time, Barnet, were tearing through town, capturing any man unlucky enough to look like a pirate. They were actually looking for Calico Jack, and they did eventually find his ship. But, in their quest, they murdered several of my crew. Not until some of my men had avoided capture and returned did I know how many had been cut down. Then, Barnet had instructed Dobison to sink any vessels in the vicinity.”
“I’d heard of Calico Jack. He, and several others, made a habit of terrorizing the Carolina coastline for some time. Even Blackbeard paid a visit to Charles Town. So, this Barnet, and Dobison, just found it their duty to cut down any and all crewmembers regardless of guilt. Sounds honorable.”
Roberts nodded at his sarcasm.
“Barnet was not leaving without removing as many pirates as he could. He was being paid a great sum. He scored Rackham, and two female pirates in the process. He was quite the success that evening.”
He raised his spyglass again, his jaw clenching in frustration. “You’ve spoken of Anne and why you must speak to her.”
“Yes. She is . . . was to be my wife. Her children are to be raised in my home, given my protection. I was approached by her uncle to provide her safety from her past. Although, he’d never said anything about that in particular. But, I’d needed the land he offered, as well as the large sum of money he agreed to pay upon my agreement to marry her.”
Roberts flinched slightly still gazing through the glass, sighing. “But, you love her.”
He’d not mentioned anything of his feelings for Anne in his discussions with Roberts, only that he felt she needed to be returned and fulfill the agreement.
The truth of the matter was, he did love her, and he didn’t need to deny the truth to Roberts. “Aye, I do love her. But, I don’t recall mentioning that fact to you.”
“When I overheard you looking for her in The Hound and the Hare, I have to admit I had an ulterior motive.”
“To get revenge against Dobison?”
/> “That, and to help an old friend. When I saw the expression on your face upon hearing of her departure, and the anguish in your voice in the street, well, I couldn’t quite leave well-enough alone.”
“An old friend, you say. Do you know William Cormac, then?”
“No.” He removed the spyglass, turning to meet Addison’s eyes. “Do you know many pirates, Lord Blackhurst?”
He shook his head. “Not really, no. I’ve heard tales of many. Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Henry Morgan, Stede Bonnet, Anne Bonny, Black Bart . . .” he shrugged.
“Black Bart?” Roberts grimaced and rolled his eyes heavenward.
“I know, hideous nick name. Poor chap, but from what I can tell, the name was given him for his dark looks. A Welshman too, so he comes by the—” Blast and damn. He’d been so wrapped up in Anne and finding her . . .
Roberts’ very dark brows arched high above his dark, Welsh eyes.
“Bloody hell. Black Bart?”
Roberts bowed in a chivalrous fashion.
Addison could not help the chuckle that erupted from him.
Black Bart shook his head. “That nickname. I’d as soon be called Henry the Eighth.” His dark hair fell about his temples, the wind knocking it from the ribbon.
Addison extended his hand. “Bart, please, call me Addison.”
The captain shook his proffered hand, winking, “It’s Bartholomew, Welsh pirate.”
Roberts reached inside the breast of his shirt and pulled out a slightly crumpled, folded sheaf of parchment, and handed it to him.
Addison grasped it, wondering what lie on the inside. “What is this?”
“Do you love her?”
“Aye, but what has this . . .”
My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) Page 22