She nodded and guilt filled her heart as she realised he thought she sought to protect him once more. He turned to the burly man beside him. “Go on, Mousy, go back downstairs. I'll deal with this.”
Mousy looked back at her, his eyes filled with distrust. He folded his arms, his massive biceps pulling at the fabric of his threadbare shirt. “Lars,” he growled what she assumed was the pirate's name. There was worry in his eyes. “She said there be militia in the marketplace.”
The pirate looked at her, his expression sharp now. He turned back to Mousy once more and nodded. “Get some eyes in the alley and around the Market Square,” he said. “I want to know if those bastards so much as look in my direction.”
“Aye, Capt'n,” the big man growled. Henri flattened herself against the wall as his bulk passed by in the confined space of the corridor and she was left alone with Captain Savage.
He stared at her for a moment and she fought the urge to blush and stammer an apology for disturbing him.
“This way then,” he said, moving back down the corridor a little and opening a door. “We can talk in here.”
Henri moved to follow him, only to pause on the threshold as she noticed the bed inside the room. She stared at it for a moment, but there was no going back now. With resolution she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. There was really no point in splitting hairs. She was beyond ruined now if she was discovered, bed or no bed.
She scowled as she realised he had seen her discomfort and was smiling at her, and looking unbearably smug. His eyes drifted to the bed and back to her and he raised one eyebrow.
“Let's have the letter back first, eh?” he said with a quiet rumble of laughter.
She realised he believed she had come in search of another kiss ... at the very least. Anger and indignation seemed to stiffen her resolve and her backbone, and she looked down at him with all the disdain of her noble birth to one far beneath her. “I don't have it,” she said, allowing herself a small smirk at his confusion. “At least,” she added with a knowing smile. “I don't have it on me at the moment.”
The air around them seemed to tremble as suspicion flickered to life in his expression. “And why would that be, my lady?” He leaned on the bedpost and she became the subject of his intense scrutiny.
A tremor of unease fluttered in her chest as she interpreted the tone of his voice and the flicker of anger just visible in his eyes.
“Because I believe it is something that has a value, something that perhaps you would be unwilling to have fall into the wrong hands.” She was amazed she got the sentence out without stuttering or hearing her voice tremble. Indeed she sounded perfectly cold-hearted and utterly calculating, which alarmed her almost as much as the fury in his expression.
“Why you little…” He seemed to bite off the end of the sentence, leaving the word he might have uttered hanging in the air between them. Henri blushed but found she couldn't gainsay him. He had every right to be furious.
Taking a step back she noted that his fists were clenched and she knew she should be terrified. He was no gentleman but a pirate. Heaven alone knew what despicable crimes he was responsible for, and she had come here alone ... and angered him. No one would be the least bit surprised if she was found dead in a back street once they knew what she'd done, and yet she did not believe he would hurt her. Despite his obvious anger he made no move in her direction, and though he muttered foul curses under his breath he made no threat towards her person.
She wiped her clammy hands on the thick folds of her velvet pelisse and took a breath. “Whatever you may think of me, what I am, sir, is desperate,” she said, feeling she owed him some little explanation and sounding breathless now as anger at the situation she had found herself in made her emotional. She spoke carefully, trying to appear calm at least, but she didn't want to blackmail him, no matter that he was hardly an innocent. “I am sorry that your predicament gives me the means to extricate myself from an untenable situation, but the fact remains that it does, and I intend to use that letter in whichever way will serve me best.” Her voice trembled and she clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling, but she held her head up and watched for his response.
He had begun to pace the room as she spoke, only pausing to cast her looks of frustration and anger. “How much?” he growled.
She hesitated before blurting out the sum she knew was owed by her father. “Three thousand, five hundred pounds.”
The enormity of the sum seemed to grow exponentially in the shabby surroundings of the inn's bedroom. To her astonishment, however, he didn't rant and curse at her. He laughed. He laughed so hard that his eyes watered and he clutched helplessly at his chest as he fought for breath. His amusement endeared him none to Henri, however, who fought the urge to stamp her feet and and shout at him to stop. Instead she held herself still and regarded him with quiet dignity until a sharp knock at the door interrupted his mirth.
“Who is it?” he called, his hand straying to the sword at his hip.
“Mousy,” bellowed a familiar voice. “Move yer arse, Capt'n, there's redcoats crawlin' the streets and headin' our way.”
Henri stifled a gasp of horror as it occurred to her just what that would mean if she was found here.
“Damnation!” she said in unison with the captain who turned to look at her with a grim smile.
“Well I'll be damned for sure, lady,” he snarled, crossing the room to her and grasping her by the arm. She took in a sharp breath as he glowered down at her, those vibrant blue eyes full of rage and frustration. “Tell me, is this your doing?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Did you sell me out? There's a deal more money than that on offer as a reward.”
“N-no,” she stammered, alarmed both by his proximity and the painful strength with which he was holding on to her. “No, sir, I swear it. I never meant to see you hang. Indeed I cannot be found here, I'll be ruined and this will all have been for naught.” She did not need to act to let him see the fear in her eyes; she was sure it was perfectly clear as she blinked back the prickle of tears that threatened to shame her.
He snorted and shook his head but let her go as he crossed to the window to look down on the street. “Forgive me but I can't help but observe that you've made your own bed.”
Henri bridled, tears forgotten as her temper rose once again, not that she could dispute the truth of his words, but dammit that was the pot calling the kettle black. “Well, sir, I cannot help but observe that the militia will say much the same thing to you,” she hissed, itching to slap his smug, self-satisfied face. “And,” she added, wondering if perhaps she sounded just a trifle hysterical. “You can rest assured I will hand them that letter if you don't do all in your power to get me out of here!”
She took a moment to thank God that he didn't appear to have any of the strange and heathen supernatural powers that were sometimes ascribed to men of his ilk who spent much time overseas, as the look he gave in return to her words would surely have struck her dead on the spot.
“Oh, I'll get you out of here all right,” he said, his voice full of disgust as he strode for the door and once again grasped hold of her arm. He towed her behind him, pausing for just a moment before he opened the door. “And for your information I would have done so without your threat,” he murmured, and she caught her breath as the blue in his eyes flashed like a lightning strike. “You might like to remember that I am the pirate and cut-throat,” he added with a sneer of disdain. “You are apparently a lady.” He looked her over with such contempt she felt her cheeks heat. “You understand I only mention it as you seem to be acting my part.”
She blinked, rapidly, determined that he should not see her crumble, but she had never before been spoken to in such a manner, by such a man, and the shock of it was hard to take while attempting to maintain her equanimity. The problem was quickly solved, however, as she was thrust through the door and instructed to move her damn arse. She complied with as much haste as her skirts would
allow and silently cursed every man that ever lived.
Chapter 4
“Wherein our heroine is forced to flee.”
Henri thought that if anyone had predicted that she would be running for her life through the town in the middle of the night in the company of pirates and cut-throats she would have believed them quite mad. But she was indeed running through the town in the middle of the night in the company pirates and cut-throats, and she became uncomfortably aware that she should look closer to home for madness. Whatever had possessed her to embark on this ill-fated endeavour could not be firmly brought to mind at this moment. In fact the shouts of men and the alarming report of gunfire focused the mind quite superbly on the job of keeping alive, while all those around ran for their lives.
“This way,” Savage yelled over his shoulder as Henri hitched her skirts once more and tried to keep up with him. They were heading down towards the beach and she assumed that there would be a boat waiting. What would befall her after that she could not contemplate. All that mattered at this moment was getting away from the redcoats. She simply could not be discovered or all would be lost.
She screamed as a soldier appeared from behind a crumbling building and launched himself at Savage. Flattening herself against the wall she watched in horror as the two men fought. The slash of metal against metal seemed to explode in her ears, making her wince and she was utterly unprepared for the violence she was witnessing. Reading about such things in the papers in the comfort of your own home was one thing, seeing it happen before your eyes quite another. Captain Savage was aptly named it seemed to her as he bested his opponent and sent the soldier's sword flying across the cobbles. To her surprise, though, he didn't cut the man down as she'd imagined he would.
"Run you fool," he hissed but the solider, despite the terror on his face, rolled to the side and lunged for the sword. He ran back towards his foe and with terror and repugnance she saw the captain cut him down without a moment's hesitation. She screamed then, as blood poured from a wound in the man's side and he slumped to the floor with an appalling cry of pain. The fight wasn't over though as another soldier appeared to take the place of the last.
“Run!” he yelled to her and she screamed again as a hand grabbed hold of her arm and Mousy began to pull her down the street. “Get her to the boat!” Savage yelled.
“But ...” she began, pointing as she saw yet another redcoat join the first and the captain turned to meet the new threat.
“Come on!” Mousy roared, pulling her arm so hard she nearly went face down on the slippery cobbles. “Lars will deal with 'em.”
As they ran she looked around, hoping for an opportunity to conceal herself, to be able to slip away quietly once the redcoats had continued in their pursuit of the pirates. But alas cover was in short supply and Mousy's grip on her arm too fierce. A chance to escape both the pirates and militia was far from likely. And so she ran, gasping for breath, quite unused to running at such a pace as ladies were not supposed to exert themselves in such a fashion. Mousy let go of her arm but urged her on as they ran down the stone steps to the shore.
She stumbled as her feet hit the shingle of the beach, the surface slipping beneath the smooth soles of her shoes and she fell, only to be hauled up again by a strong pair of hands.
“Come on,” said a rough voice in her ear, and she looked up to see the massive bulk of Mousy looking down at her. “Can't stop now.”
The truth of his words was illustrated by the sharp crack of gunfire only too close behind them. She stifled a squeal and allowed Mousy to tow her down the beach. Captain Savage was running towards them at breakneck speed.
“Move dammit!” he yelled, before picking her up, wading into the sea, and throwing her none too gently into the waiting boat.
Moments later and with a screech of gravel and the slap of freezing water against the sides of the small boat, and they were heading out into the fathomless darkness of the sea. Henri grasped the side of the boat with one hand and clutched her shawl tightly around her with the other, then she closed her eyes and prayed. There was some childish part of her brain that insisted this was just a bad dream, that she wasn't really heading out towards a pirate ship in the middle of the night but asleep in her bed. Sadly when she dared to crack open an eyelid to see the redcoats arrayed on the beach and disappearing into the distance as they fired at the boat, it became all too real.
Mousy pushed her head down and then jerked in his seat, yelling out, before slumping down in the boat, clutching at his shoulder. Blood oozed out from between his fingers.
“He's hit,” she screamed with horror, before pushing up from her seat to move beside the big man whose face was contorted with pain. “Let me see,” she demanded, gently trying to prise his large hand away from the wound. “It's clean,” she said, inspecting the hole, high on his shoulder. “It's gone clear through the other side. I don't think it's broken anything.”
“Maybe so,” Mousy grumbled. “But it hurts like a bitch.”
Henri was tempted to point out that she could still feel the bruise he'd left on her right buttock, but it seemed churlish in the circumstances.
“Thank you,” she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand, which was approximately the size of a large ham.
Mousy shrugged and looked sheepish. “S'alright,” he muttered, looking strangely discomfited.
She looked up to find Captain Savage looking at her curiously.
“Is he alright?”
She nodded. “He'll live,” she said, wondering if the same could be said of herself. “It will be need to be kept clean, do you have a surgeon?”
“Aye,” he said, looking away from her. “On The Wicked Wench.”
“On the...” she repeated, perplexed until she realised he was speaking of his ship. “Oh.”
She looked back to the shore, and the flickering lights of the town twinkling like stars. And they may as well in the far heavens, she thought, for her chances of reaching them again were about as likely, as the boat pulled her ever further away. “What will you do with me?” she asked, keeping her eyes down and hearing her own voice frail and awkward against the sound of the oars in the water and the men's grunts as they worked themselves hard.
She heard a snort of amusement from the captain and looked up with trepidation.
“I haven't decided yet,” he said, though the threat in his tone was quite unmistakable. She swallowed, torn between contrition and holding her nerve. In the end she put up her chin.
“I still have the letter,” she said.
In the moonlight his smile took on a wolfish, feral quality that made her skin prickle.
“Oh but you don't, my lady. You told me yourself you don't have it on you, and now you have no means of contacting anyone who does.” Once again Henri was filled with the sudden desire to slap him, he was so damn smug. “And don't bother making out you left it with someone for safekeeping, for I shan't believe you. No one knows you're here. No one knows you're even away from home. Do they?” There was amusement in his eyes and she gritted her teeth, damn the man. She began to think she had taken the wrong tack in dealing with Captain Savage. But it was too late now.
Savage turned his back on her and began speaking quietly with the rest of his men. Henri shivered and drew down further into her shawl. She watched with her confidence sinking into her boots as the hull of a large ship appeared in the moonlight. The faces of men, bleached silver by the moon, appeared over the sides of the ship. Voices drifted over the water and the realisation that she was about to become a prisoner suddenly hit home. Finally and rather too late, she felt most desperately afraid. What had she done?
One thing was for certain, there would be no question of her marrying the damned fiancé now.
“Always look on the bright side, Henri,” she muttered to herself.
She gasped as the small boat bumped up against the side of the ship, knocking her sideways. Before she had time to right herself she squealed with alarm as she was lif
ted and slung over a strong shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down!” she shrieked in fury. “Put me down, you wretch.” She kicked, and rained down blows on the broad back beneath her hands, to no avail. “You fiend! I am quite capable of climbing a ladder!” she protested though she was completely ignored. She closed her eyes as her captor began to climb and the sight of the drop made her feel she would quite likely cast up her accounts and vomit. Once at the top, she was sat on the rail and then given a hearty push and fell with a heavy thud to the deck. She felt quite certain her behind was going to be black and blue in the morning. Righting herself as quickly as she could, she tried to get to her feet with as much dignity as possible. The rabble hovering all around her lifted lamps to inspect the captain's cargo more closely. She gasped and stumbled back to the rail as she was inspected under the leering gaze of a pirate crew who crowded around her. Her heart lodged somewhere in her throat apparently trying to escape her body as it beat in terror and she wondered what would become of her. Hard glittering eyes met hers as she took in the swarthy faces of men whose lives were lived as fugitives on the seas, with no laws to constrain them but those of their own making. There was laughter and a number of predictably ribald comments as to the captain's plunder, and how exactly he was going to share it.
The man himself stepped onto the deck and grinned at his crew, accepting their congratulations with laughter. They moved back, making way for him as he walked closer to her. Henri glowered in return and thought every bad word that she had ever learnt in her life in his general direction. Having grown up with Annie, the list was quite extensive, and she had every intention of using every single one on him.
“Well then, my lady.” Captain Savage walked towards her, took off his hat and bowed with a theatrical flourish. “As you seem to be well aware, I am Captain Lars Savage, and whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
The Rogue Page 3