“Get your hands off—” The distant cry of the duchess was abruptly cut off, but it was enough to steer Sabine in the right direction. The villains had a lead on her, but they would be hampered by their unwilling captives.
What are you doing? she wondered. It’s just a ransom. No one will harm them. Don’t get involved.
Her feet paid no heed, racing across the wide street that separated the house from the beachfront where local eccentrics liked to leap into cold water to wake themselves up in the mornings. No hired carriage lay in wait to whisk the duke away. No steam car zipped by, too late to stop. Ahead of her, a group of hazy figures lurched toward the water’s edge.
Sabine vaulted over the iron rail that separated road from beach, making no sound as her feet landed in soft sand. A chill of unease ran down her spine. Why the water? Why take your prisoners away by boat when a two-hour ride by car could hide you in the seediest hells of London? Where were they going that a car couldn’t access?
She crept closer, keeping low in case she had to dive to the ground to avoid detection. Ahead of her, a large, round contraption loomed up out of the water, the front of it gaping open like a whale swallowing its dinner.
“Toss ’em in,” one of the kidnappers said, “and let’s get outta here before anyone comes looking.”
Sabine skirted a short distance to her right, crawling beneath a bathing cart to watch. The masked criminals shoved their captives up to the mouth of the whale. The duke thrashed in their grip, but he looked to have his hands bound, and the only sounds he made were muffled grunts. Three of the men lifted him clear off the ground and threw him into the machine. Sabine’s heart lurched at the heavy thud that ensued.
Damn you, Hartleigh, why can’t you ever stay safe?
The duchess followed him into the metal beast, though they tossed her in less forcefully. The kidnappers turned away, scampering off into the night, their role in this apparently complete. The machine creaked, the mouth beginning to close.
Sabine cursed softly, crawling from her hiding place. If that whale was taking them out into international waters, this was far more than an ordinary ransom kidnapping. And if she was correct about who was behind it, she wouldn’t leave a stranger to such a fate, much less a friend.
Business partner, she corrected. No, not partner. Ally. That’s it.
Metal ground against metal as the jaws of the apparatus inched closer together. It was now or never. She sprang to her feet, flew down the beach, and launched herself through the shrinking gap. She landed with a thud on the cold, hard metal of the floor, and she cried out involuntarily. A clank and a shudder, and the gap closed behind her, plunging her into complete darkness.
15
A hand clamped down on his thigh, and Cliff lashed out, the toe of his dancing shoe meeting flesh. It took several seconds for the startled feminine yelp to register in his brain.
Sabine?
He tried to speak, but the gag choked off all but the faintest of sounds.
“Cliff?” Sabine’s voice was no more than a whisper. “Hold still. I’m here to help.”
She groped him in the darkness, her hand traveling up his leg, over his buttocks, and all along his back until she reached the ties that held the gag over his mouth. Her fingers brushed through his hair as she worked at the knot, sending little tingles throughout his body. His arms twitched instinctively, wanting to reach for her and pull her closer. He forced himself to lie still.
You’re a bonehead, Cliff. She’s here to rescue you, not cure you of your obviously far-too-lengthy celibacy.
The gag slipped away and he took a long, deep breath.
“Are you hurt?” Her breath against his ear tickled.
“No. Bruised is all. And I lost my glasses.” Not that they would do much good inside this pitch black monstrosity.
“I’ll look for them after I untie you.” She pulled away, her lips grazing his cheek.
Hell and damnation. Had she just kissed him intentionally? The moment his hands were free, he sat up, running a finger across his cheek where it still burned from that fleeting touch. It had been an accident, that was all. It meant nothing.
Shuffling noises nearby told him Sabine was freeing the duchess from her predicament. Cliff didn’t move or utter a sound. He had no idea who might be nearby. If any enemies were listening, he didn’t want them to know they’d been freed from their binds.
A sudden light sliced through the darkness. Sabine held a flashlight beneath the top layer of her skirt, the muted beam casting just enough light to allow them to see one another and get their bearings. She turned in a slow circle, pausing to scoop something up off the ground. A moment later, Cliff had his spectacles in his hands. One earpiece wobbled slightly, but they were intact and he could see without straining to focus.
Sabine uncovered the flashlight and pointed it at the wall, making a full circuit of the round chamber in which they found themselves. The walls were smooth, with no apparent openings save for the tightly sealed jaws they had entered through. Cliff placed a hand against the wall. A slight vibration shook the metal, and he could hear the low hum of an engine. He pressed his ear to the wall, and the hum became a clear, steady buzz, like one of those new-fangled boat motors he’d encountered that past summer on the lake.
He straightened up and looked to Sabine, shrugging in a gesture of, What now?
Could the driver of this metal monster hear them, if they talked? Did it even have a driver? Did the kidnappers know Sabine was with them? And just where the hell were they going?
The duchess, who sat on the floor in a pool of shimmery fabric, scooted closer to the wall and kicked it hard enough to make an audible thud.
“Let me out!” she shrieked. “You get in here and untie me at once, you loathsome, disease-ridden scofflaws! How dare you do this? Do you have any idea who I am?”
She continued to rant as Sabine moved to Cliff’s side. “I don’t know if anyone can hear,” Sabine murmured, “but I asked the duchess to do what she could to make it sound as if you and she are alone and still tied.”
“Sensible. Where do you think they are taking us?”
“To a boat.” The tight set of her mouth made it clear she didn’t intend to elaborate. “Our best chance to escape is to take them by surprise when this creature opens again. I have a dagger. I’ll give you the torch. Shine it directly into the faces of the kidnappers when they look in. I can attack while they’re blinded. I’ll knot up the ropes into a sort of cudgel that the duchess can wield. Beyond that, we will have to improvise. I have a flare to signal to my crew. It can be seen at least a mile off.”
Cliff nodded. Lola would be asleep on the airship, with no idea that he might not be coming back for her. His fingers clenched on the flashlight Sabine handed him. He’d do all he could. And pay a hefty ransom, if necessary.
“Sit down, Duke. We will have some time, yet.”
Cliff sank to the floor, Sabine settling beside him and picking up the discarded ropes. He stared at her hands as she knotted the strands with well-practiced movements. In no time, she had a thick, semi-flexible club with a looped handle on one end. She swung it around a few times, then handed it off to the duchess, who had finally quieted from her performance.
Sabine looked at Cliff, pointed at the flashlight and mouthed, Off.
He nodded and flicked the switch. No sense in letting the battery drain down when nothing here required light.
Time ticked by, with nothing but the faint hum of the engine and the occasional rocking of the machine. Cliff couldn’t even guess whether they were above the water or below. He turned the flashlight over in his hands, adjusting his position every few seconds. No matter how he sat, some portion of his body was uncomfortable.
He shifted again, and his knee came in contact with Sabine’s leg.
Move. Back away. Don’t make this awkward.
He edged closer. He needed to thank her for helping. For simply being here. Without her, he’d still be lying on t
he floor, bound and gagged, without even a rudimentary plan of escape. A quick whisper of thanks in her ear would be enough. Just to let her know how grateful he was.
Cliff lifted a hand, trying to locate her in the darkness. His fingertips skimmed the soft skin of her cheek.
“Sabine.” Her whispered name was almost inaudible, even to his own ears, but his fingers spoke his message without sound, sweeping up her jaw, caressing the shell of her ear. She leaned into his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm.
Desire pounded through him. He bent toward her, seeking her lips, finding them parted and eager. His hand slipped to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, drawing her closer.
Cliff heard her sharp intake of breath as his tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip. She had a perfect mouth, and it fit against his even better than he’d imagined. Her hands rose to grip the lapels of his coat, holding him in place, spurring him on.
He tipped his head, angling to deepen the kiss, sinking into her luscious heat. Her mouth was sweet perfection, a pirate’s treasure offered up for him to plunder. Each eager little gasp of breath added to the fire in his veins. He wanted to take her, right here in the belly of this mechanical beast. To ride her until he couldn’t think any more and this mad longing inside him was all burnt out.
Sabine clambered up into his lap, not breaking the kiss, her hands beginning to rove across his chest, her hips rocking against his. Their passionate embrace had knocked his eyeglasses askew, but he didn’t care. Here in the darkness, he was almost willing to toss them aside again. He didn’t need to see to devour her. He groaned against her mouth, lost to everything but their melding bodies and tangling tongues.
“For goodness’ sake, Hartleigh!”
Cliff and Sabine sprang apart at the duchess’ scandalized voice.
“Have you no decency? It might be dark in here, but I can still hear you.”
Cliff managed only a strangled noise in reply, which was good, he supposed, if anyone were to listen in. Good God, what had he been thinking? What had Sabine been thinking to allow him to kiss her under such circumstances? Were they both out of their minds?
He backed away, his heart still pounding in his chest, his lungs still heaving. The sudden influx of reality hadn’t dampened the fire inside him. His body ached for her. His mind was in a lust-induced haze, struggling to form coherent thoughts.
Their mechanical prison shuddered, jerking to a halt as it collided with some outside object with an ear-piercing clang. The vehicle lurched, sending him tumbling. He groped for the flashlight, abandoned during their ill-conceived canoodling session.
The whale swayed, the buzz of its engine replaced by an eerie silence. Back and forth it rocked, until suddenly, with one last bone-jarring thud, it fell still.
Cliff’s fingers touched the curved metal of the flashlight and closed around it.
Let’s get the hell out of here. Wherever “here” is.
16
Sabine took down two enemies before they ever saw her coming. A third she struck from behind while Her Grace pummeled his face with the improvised rope weapon. The duchess might be haughty and priggish, but she had a fierce spirit underneath.
Cliff grunted in pain, and Sabine whirled around to find him doubled over, trying to twist away from another blow to his midsection. Before she could jump to help him, he hooked one foot behind his attacker’s leg and pulled, sending both men tumbling to the ground.
Cliff was back on his feet in an instant. There were some advantages, apparently, to falling down on a regular basis. He aimed her lighted torch at the enemy’s face, and when the man turned reflexively away Sabine jumped onto his back, jabbing her knife into his kidneys.
She had no qualms about stabbing these men. This steamship flew the colors of a German cargo vessel, but these were Redbeard’s parasites. Sabine had been the man’s bane for the last decade. She knew how he operated. There would be no ransom. These men had one mission: to torture Cliff until he confessed everything he knew about the Heart of Ra. She’d be damned if she was going to let that happen.
Hartleigh recovered quickly for a man unused to fighting. He raced down the deck, calling for Sabine and the duchess to follow. He stopped at the rail, where a small lifeboat dangled over the side, and began yanking at ropes and turning winches in a surprisingly competent manner. The duchess didn’t hesitate an instant before climbing over the side and dropping down into the boat.
A hand grabbed a fistful of Sabine’s skirts. The material tore away easily as she spun clear of the attack. Fools. These sailor boys didn’t know La Capitaine. She hit the man solidly in the chest with a booted foot, then slashed across his face with her knife. He dropped to the ground with a howl of pain.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Cliff shouted, freeing the lifeboat from the last of its ties and sending it on a rapid descent to the waters below.
Sabine dodged one more attacker, jumping back to avoid the blade of a dagger that perfectly matched her own. The pirate adjusted his stance, feinting with little jabs, trying to pin her against the rail. He was a small man, but quick.
Their blades clanged together. The little shit was faster than she was, but none too bright. She held his gaze and faked retreat, skittering backwards to keep out of reach of his knife. Only when it was far too late did he realize he’d been flanked. The duke grabbed him from behind, hauled him off his feet, and hurled him over the side.
“Sorry, we’ve got to go now.”
Hartleigh nodded at Sabine, and together they scrambled over the rail and dropped down into the boat.
She landed hard enough to leave a bruise or two, but with relative ease. The duke, in typical fashion, crashed in an ungraceful heap, giving a yelp of pain. Even so, he hurried to right himself, grabbed hold of the oars, and shoved off.
He didn’t know how to fight and he couldn’t walk in a straight line, but he clearly knew boats. He sent them flying away from the ship using only the power of his own body, the muscles in his arms and back flexing so hard that Sabine could hear the seams of his tight evening jacket popping.
A gunshot rang out, and the duchess screamed and dove to the floor, covering her head.
“Get down!” Cliff shouted.
Sabine shook her head, not even turning to look for the shooters. “No. They want us alive. They’re only trying to frighten us. Keep rowing. I’m going to signal my crew.”
She climbed past him, up to the prow of the boat, and pulled the flare from the pocket of her breeches.
“I thought you said that worked up to a mile!” Cliff called over his shoulder. “How far out do you think we are?”
“I have no idea, but once that ship comes around, you won’t stand a chance in hell of outrunning them even with all your manly vigor.” She lashed the flare to the prow, pulled the cap off of it, and turned away.
The flare lit with a pop, bathing them in a green glow that in these open waters would be seen farther off than a mere mile.
“Jesus!” Cliff swore.
“Don’t turn around.” Sabine knelt behind him. “It’ll blind you.”
“I can tell. It’s like daylight.” He was breathing hard, but his strokes were strong and smooth, propelling them swiftly across the waves.
The gunfire had stopped, the sailors concentrating on maneuvering the ship for a chase. They would give it everything they had. Redbeard had no tolerance for failure.
Her flare popped again, the color changing to a bluish-purple. Thirty seconds more and it was back to green. The crew would recognize the blinking pattern as hers.
Sabine watched the slowly turning ship, her fingers clenching and unclenching. Helpless. She wouldn’t be able to row half as well as Hartleigh. She could do nothing but watch and wait.
“How long for your crew to reach us?” Cliff asked. In the light of the flare she could see the sweat dripping from his dark hair, running down his cheek and neck.
“A few minutes from the time they see us. Can you
hold on that long?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Their only other option left them back on board the steamship, hoping her crew could stage a rescue before the torture could go very far. Or before they decided to kill her and go after the Heart based only on Cliff’s knowledge. Would they truly believe she had entrusted anyone in the world with all the relevant information? Maybe they’d kill him and torture her instead.
Then again, Cliff knew everything except the location of the coded document. Far more than she had ever expected to share with anyone. Surely it was no secret that they’d flown in and out of France together. And the newspapers had painted them as lovers.
Sabine rocked back on her heels, putting a tiny bit more distance between herself and Hartleigh’s straining body. Why had she been so foolish as to kiss him? Watching him display his strength and athleticism was not what she needed right now. She closed her eyes and imagined him tripping over things instead. No good. She rather liked him when he was clumsy, too.
She just liked him. That was the trouble. She didn’t often like people, especially men. She might respect them or get along with them, and perhaps in time that could grow to liking, as with her crew. But to simply like someone, just because? She cast about for reasons, but the two that first sprang to mind made her cringe. Cliff was funny and he was sweet. God, she was the softest pirate in the history of pillaging.
“Can’t keep this up much longer,” he panted. His arms continued pumping, his entire body working with every stroke. He hadn’t slowed even a fraction since he’d started.
“They’re coming.”
Sabine looked to the sky, shielding her eyes from the harsh light of the flare, hoping her words were true. Her dark-blue airship had been made for stealth. With the light disrupting her night vision, she might never see her until she was right on top of them.
Dead Dukes Tell No Tales Page 8