For Love of the Earl

by Jessie Clever

  But there were no running footsteps.

  She had expected someone to come running at her screams, but there was no one. The ship rolled again, and Sarah presumed they were all above deck, manning the ship as the storm passed.

  She had never been in the belly of a ship such as this before, and she looked to her left and right, hoping divine realization would come to her as to where she should go. But there was nothing but blackness and the occasional scurry of rats. The rats seemed to be going down though, and she thought it likely they knew where the food stores were. So she turned the other way, back in the direction she had thought they had come, and sought out a staircase that would lead her up.

  The first room she came upon was filled with hammocks. She peered into the darkness at the ghostly moving shapes, but as she scanned, she determined they were all empty. Everyone was indeed above deck. For the barest of moments, she wondered how bad the storm really was, and if she should properly worry of it. But then she dismissed it. She needed to find Alec. That took precedent over all.

  Moving quickly again, she crossed the small room to the corridor beyond and this time, found stairs leading up before her. She moved the jug to her left hand and went to grab the railing when a hand closed on her arm. The scream stuck in her throat as she turned, jug raised to strike. She caught herself at the last moment when she saw the creased visage of the old man.

  "It will lead you into the lion's den," he said, "You must follow me."

  And with that he turned and disappeared further along the corridor into the darkness. She didn't know how he knew where he was going, but she followed him, the light disappearing behind them. She thought the walls were closing in on her, and she pushed back at them with all the mental energy she could summon. Faintly, she could make out the shape of the old man shuffling before her. He was a small shape in the darkness, all bent and compact. But his gait was steady, a step and then a slide as he brought his other foot to. And they kept moving.

  When light began to appear in the distance, Sarah thought it a part of her imagination. But then the light grew stronger, real and sure. The old man stopped in the middle of it, looking up. Sarah came to stand next to him, the jug swinging at her side as she too looked up. There was a hatch here, and the faint light came in around the cracks like a beacon across a gloomy moor.

  "Is this the only way out?" Sarah asked, looking down at her bent companion.

  He nodded.

  "You must climb out. You are capable."

  Sarah was glad he had such confidence in her, but it was not her person she worried over. It was how she was going to get him out.

  "Sir, we must find another way. I need to-"

  "You must find your husband and leave this ship. And you must do so now. Go, my lady."

  The light struck his face at an angle, distorting the already mottled image of the bent man in the darkness. And it was something in his words that convinced Sarah that he was right. She must go. She must find Alec.

  "I will come back for you," she whispered, but the man did not say anything.

  Sarah set down the jug and reached up, finding the latch on the door. She turned it and pushed up. The force of the wind that struck her knocked her back, and she had to let the door close so she could steady herself. It was a magnificent storm indeed, and she was about to throw herself into it to find the man she loved. She looked once more at the old man.

  "Thank you," she said.

  And he nodded.

  "The captain's quarters are at the rear of the ship, my lady. I bid you God speed."

  He turned and disappeared into the darkness.

  Sarah lifted the latch once more, and this time she was prepared when the wind struck her.

  ~

  It was when he heard cannon fire that he thought he was going mad sitting in the torturous wooden chair in the captain's putrid quarters. But it was when he heard the second boom that he knew he was. He made it to the bank of windows along the far wall in four strides, but it did him little good. The storm was upon them now, and the blanket of clouds squelched what little moon there was. He kept his feet planted and his arms braced against the walls as the ship pitched beneath him, but he heard nothing more. Thinking he was indeed going mad, he made his way back to the wooden chair, his journey more difficult as no compulsion drove him forward.

  Until the third boom of cannon fire.

  He wheeled around in the direction of the windows so quickly, he nearly fell into the overflowing chamberpot. He righted himself just as the door to the captain's chambers opened. He stayed where he was as two men moved into the room. Alec stiffened at the sight of them. These were not the hired mercenaries with harpoons. These men looked like trained soldiers of the French navy. Their clothing, although stained and wrinkled, was not torn and appeared rather fine. Their bearing indicated they were military men, drilled in the art of physical mechanics.

  And they carried guns instead of harpoons.

  Big ones.

  Something was wrong.

  The first thing his mind stopped on was Sarah. She was alone in the berth below decks, and he needed to get to her. He eyed the men before him and knew that if he did not come up with a plan quickly, he would be out of time. Sarah could get hurt. Sarah could get killed even. His mind raced past that thought as quickly as it had come to it as if even the very mental image of it scared him beyond sensibility.

  "Hello, mates," he said, smiling as much as he could force himself to.

  The taller of the two men stepped forward, motioning with his musket.

  "The captain wishes you on deck. March," he said.

  For a second, Alec felt as if he were once more on the field under his old commanding officer, Hurst. No one had told him to march in a very long time.

  "I beg your pardon, mates, but it seems I will need a little more information before I can do anything. Especially march," he said, and although his tone was light, he kept his expression firm.

  The taller one looked behind him to his comrade who was making a study of his shoes instead of staying alert to the situation. Alec shifted his weight, preparing himself for whatever might come next. If the soldiers hesitated even a moment, he would take advantage of it and make his move. He had to get to Sarah. He had to get to his wife.

  The taller man said something in stumbled French, whispered so gutturally that even Alec couldn't make it out. He shifted again, moving himself an entire step closer to the door without seeming to have moved at all. The shorter man said something in exchange, and finally, the tall man turned back to Alec. The ship still pitched beneath them, and he took this into consideration. If he needed to, he had the element of surprise and the constant, unpredictable tilt of the ship.

  "There is a small problem. We need you on deck. The captain say so. You come with us now," he said.

  Alec shook his head slightly.

  "Not without my wife."

  The taller man gestured to the door with his gun again.

  "They get her now, too. You come."

  Alec paused and took that in. They were bringing Sarah up from the prison below. If he could get them out in the open, he thought they might have a chance at escape. Unless the canon fire he had heard was real, and then perhaps, there were other possibilities to consider. Such as the one in which Thatcher had made it to his father in time, and the entire British navy was there to rescue them. That somehow did not sit right with him, but he still held on hope. He had no other choice. He could not picture a world without Sarah, not when the last thing she would remember of him was how he had left her.

  The tall man gestured again, only this time the point of his musket came too close to Alec for his comfort. He quickly held up a hand.

  "I'm marching, mate," he said and moved carefully in the direction of the door even as the ship moved beneath them. He kept his stance wide as he made his way into the corridor. He felt the first stirrings of a breeze as he passed into the wheelhouse but was careful to hide his reactions from t
he sailors they met there. These chaps were more hired types, and he couldn't be sure what their reactions would be if he tried anything. He kept his feet moving forward until he reached the quarterdeck.

  The wind hit him as hard and accurate as Sarah's right cross. The rain came down sideways and struck him in the forehead, cheeks and chin. He grabbed at the lapels of his jacket, as if holding the tattered garment to his person, he may find some protection from the fierce weather.

  "Bloody Christ," he muttered, even though there was no one to hear. The wind carried his voice immediately up and away, and the sound was lost to the world.

  He tilted his head down and pressed forward. He saw the captain's faint, squat outline a few feet ahead of him, a dark silhouette against the shadow of the wheel behind him. The captain shouted to a man beside him, another solider, and Alec wondered what had happened to all the harpoon men. They had seemed to be in abundance when they had first boarded, but for some unsettling reason, they appeared to have vanished. Alec gripped his coat tighter against him and willed his strength toward Sarah as if on some mental level she would know that he was trying to get to her, that somehow she would know that he finally understood what she meant. It was an absurd thought, but it was the only thing driving him forward. Sarah had to know that he understood, and that he was not leaving.

  The captain must have seen Alec, because he abruptly stopped talking and turned to him, beckoning him with a hand. Keeping his head bent, Alec carefully approached him, trying to see through the driving rain. He counted eight soldiers on the quarterdeck, but those were just the ones he could see. He didn't know who was below or above them, and he didn't know if the mercenaries were still fighting for their employer. Or if a new employer had suddenly come into play. When Alec reached him, the captain pointed out to sea on the starboard side.

  "Friends of yours, mon ami? I believe you betray me, mon ami. I am most hurt."

  Alec turned his attention in the direction the captain pointed, but all he saw was pelting rain, striking his eyes even as he tried to see into the blackness. But then there it was, materializing out of nothing and looming larger than the frigate on which he stood. It was a magnificent ship, and it lingered just off the starboard side. Alec blinked into the rain as he tried to make out its colors, but he could see no more. The masts disappeared up into the sky and seemed to end in nothingness. He looked back at the captain.

  "If they're friends of mine, I have yet to be informed of it," he said, pitching his voice over the sound of wind and rain.

  "Three canon they shoot over my bow. They must be friends of yours."

  Alec looked back at the ship, a suspicious feeling of relief moving through his body. There had been canon fire. Perhaps the mysterious ship did carry men he called friends.

  "I beg your pardon, captain, that I cannot be of further assistance."

  The captain's eyes narrowed, and even in the dim light, Alec could see his expression harden.

  "You are conveniently unhelpful when you wish, mon ami. How is this possible?"

  Alec shrugged his shoulders, a casual smile coming to his lips.

  "Years of practice, captain," he said.

  The captain turned away, yelling orders in French. But although the orders sounded demanding, Alec did not miss how the sailors were slow to move as if they had already determined this was a fight lost. Alec looked back in the direction of the mysterious ship to the starboard side as if he could see more to learn of its nature and calling. But there was nothing visible in the darkness, and the rocking of the ship drove him back toward the wheelhouse.

  He felt the wood of the ship come up against his back, and he waited, watching the movement of the sailors around him. The storm demanded most of their attention, and Alec took advantage of it to slip further back along the quarterdeck. He stopped in the furthest corner of the quarterdeck on the starboard side without entering the bridge. He watched there, looking for any hatches in the deck from whence they may lead Sarah from belowdecks. He could see hardly anything at all in the dim and rain, but he kept searching. He had to get to her. He had to tell her he was never leaving.

  The ship pitched heavily, and Alec looked up in time to see a barrage of grappling hooks come over the side of the ship. He ducked, backing into the corner lest a stray hook catch him in the head. It would not due to die on Sarah before she had a chance to properly scold him for leaving her in their prison.

  But as soon as the grappling hooks caught hold, chaos broke out on the quarterdeck. The captain yelled useless orders as mercenaries and sailors alike fled the quarterdeck to the main deck below. Alec eased his way in the direction of the stairwell that he thought would lead to the main deck. Perhaps if he got lower, he could find a way down to get Sarah before whoever was on the other side of those grappling hooks decided to pay a visit.

  But it was just in that moment that the gods seemed to come together, laying their calming hands across the sea as the storm suddenly blew out like an exhausted candle. The wind stopped whipping, and the rain fizzled to a light mist. And in the quiet came a noise. A voice actually. A voice that brought such intense and immediate joy that Alec's breath froze in his chest.

  "Hear ye, maties," it said, "We come lookin' for something that's not yours to take, and we be 'aving it back now, ye see."

  Alec dared to peek over through the railing of the quarterdeck to locate the source of the voice, and when his eyes fell on his brother, dressed to the nines in what most surely was the worst pirate garb he had ever laid eyes on, Alec breathed an intense sigh of relief.

  "We have nothing that is yours," Teyssier shouted, and Alec watched as Nathan smiled a right proper smile for a pirate.

  "Then prepare to be boarded."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Alec freely rolled his eyes at his brother's preposterous words. Did he even know if pirates actually said that? It was not as if he made a habit of conversing with pirates. He didn't even know if Nathan had ever met a pirate. However, pretending to be a pirate was most certainly something Nathan would do.

  Alec scanned the deck of the other ship, but no one person caught his eye. The chaps appeared to be Englishmen, of that Alec was certain. It was in their baring. A well-bred Englishman never lost his baring even when playing pirate. But the other ship swelled with men, and Alec suddenly looked back at their own ship. The mercenaries and sailors had all but vanished, leaving the ship to toss helplessly in the sea. The captain had disappeared, and the wheel spun lazily unattended.

  A small group of mercenaries bandied about at the edge of the wheelhouse. They were a loose group that appeared only to relish a fight and not so much a loyal bunch bent on serving their paid duty. Alec took note to stay out of their way. He had to find his wife, and it would not do to end up dead while doing so.

  His scan moved up to the poop deck and onto the riggings of the mast. A man stayed in position here and there, but compared to the mass on the opposite ship, it was obvious Nathan's men would not meet with much resistance. It appeared that the mere sight of a solidified front was enough to scare off even the paid soldier. Especially when the solidified front contained pirates.

  Alec looked back at the opposite ship in time to see the first of the so-called pirates gain purchase on the grappling hook lines. They made their way across the short span of water that separated them as if they were talking a leisurely stroll in the gardens of the Queen's House. With an ease unknown to Alec, the men maneuvered onto the ship despite its rocking. He stood when the first English soldier touched the quarterdeck, stepping out from his hiding place and into the path of a soldier who looked more capable than most. At least, he did not appear to still be in knee pants as so many soldiers now did.

  "It's a pleasure to see you, mate," Alec said, stepping fully in front of the lad.

  Alec knew his appearance was startling at best and deplorable at worst, but he still did not expect the young man to step back as he did, sword raised at the ready. Alec quickly held up both hands. />
  "Earl of Stryden," he said, eyebrows raised in all innocence.

  The sword lowered but only by a fraction.

  "You're to come with me then, sir," he said, already extending a hand as if to take Alec by the arm.

  Alec stepped back.

  "I'm not leaving without my wife, and she's somewhere below deck. I must find her immediately."

  The young soldier shook his head even as Alec spoke.

  "I've got orders. You need to come with me, my lord."

  Alec took another step back.

  "I'll come just as soon as I find her. But in case you're lurking about these parts, she's short and blond and rather shrewish if you get on her wrong side. She also has a mean right hook, so watch out for that."

  He turned around, prepared to go down the stairs to the main deck to see if he could find his way back down to the lower levels when he ran squarely into a barrel chest so completely solid he bounced off.

  And smiled.

  "Reggie," Alec said, backing up to get a better look at the man who had fought beside him on the continent. "Playing at pirates, are we now?"

  Reginald Davis looked every inch the pirate right down to his wooden peg leg. He fit the picture of any child's fantasy of buccaneers on the high seas, and Alec stopped to enjoy the sight.

  "I wouldn't have thought you would make a good seaman," Alec said.

  Reggie sneered.

  "I wouldn't have thought you would make a good spy," Reginald Davis said in return.

  Alec would have laughed if he were not already moving in the direction of the stairs.

  "Life is full of unexpected things, is it not?" he said.

  "Your dear brother wants you off this ship," Davis called after him as his foot hit the first stair.