He couldn't just let her sob and do nothing to comfort her and so he gathered her up and held her close. But he couldn't let her have any romantic notions about the future either. It beggared belief that the girl should have any towards him, he thought with a smile. After everything she'd been through she should be ruing the day he'd been born. But then she was quite unlike anyone he had ever met before. He realised he'd had many regrets in his life, but he thought that perhaps not knowing her better would be the very biggest of them all.
“They'll hang me, Henri,” he said, and then held her away from him, shaking her a little as she cried harder. “No. Stop that, you must listen to me. I'm not about to go meekly to the noose I swear. If the opportunity comes, I will take it and I'll run. But I'm an outlaw, a wanted man, and this will be the way I will live if I live at all. Even if I was mad enough to want to take a woman into a life like that ...” He took a breath. “You would only slow me down, Henri. I'd likely get caught again and I doubt I'd escape the hangman twice. The chances of me doing it this time are slim enough.”
She stopped crying and wiped her eyes, and he frowned as he felt he could hear the wheels turning in her mind. What the devil was she up to now? “Whatever you're thinking, just ... just stop it!”
“Yes, Lawrence.” She blinked and looked up at him, tears still tracking down her sweet face and he felt his heart clench. By God, what a pair of brown eyes could do to a man.
Gritting his teeth he tried hard to forget about his own wishes. “I mean it, Henri, whatever foolish notions you're harbouring, for heaven's sake, put them aside. Surely this little adventure has made you see how easily you can lose everything?”
She nodded, her big brown eyes never leaving his. “Yes, Lawrence,” she repeated, her voice quite sincere. “It has.”
He sighed, relieved that perhaps he had got his point across, and possibly just a little heart broken. “Well then ... good.”
They both jumped as the door opened and Mousy looked in, his expression grim.
“They're waitin' for the two of ye'.”
Lawrence felt something in his gut tighten but he nodded. “We'll be with you in a moment.”
Mousy nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Well, then,” Lawrence said, trying to keep his words light. “It looks as though it's time to face the fates, and my brother.”
Chapter 17
“Wherein the fates are met bravely, and despair snaps at our heroine's heels.”
Henri watched him and wondered how he could be so calm. She remembered him the same way in the shop. He had to know he was going to be caught and what that meant for him, and yet he had seemed far from panic. She tried to emulate that calm and wondered if like her he was screaming inside his chest. Her heart was thudding too hard, too fast, and her mind was racing, trying to think of ways she could contrive his escape. For he was right about one thing; this adventure had showed her how easily you could lose everything. A wrong decision, a foolish step on a downward path, and everything fell about in ruins before your eyes.
He pulled out the key she had discovered from under his shirt, and she watched as he removed it and knelt to open the big chest at the foot of his berth.
As she had suspected it was filled with gold and silver and all manner of glittering objects.
Hearing her gasp of surprise he looked up at her and grinned.
“I was a very good pirate,” he said with a devilish wink, and she felt her heart squeeze at the idea of all that adventurous spirit, that wicked humour and the merry twinkle in those bright blue eyes being extinguished. She wouldn't let him hang, she swore to herself. No matter what.
He selected a small, blue velvet bag and relocked the chest before walking back to her.
“This is for you,” he said, holding out the bag. “For everything you've suffered, and to ensure that, whatever happens, you will be safe.”
She took the little bag from him with fingers that trembled and opened it at his insistence. She poured the contents into the palm of her hand and blinked, momentarily speechless. For there, nestled in her palm, sat seven large, uncut diamonds.
“I pray that you will trust Alex and marry him, for he will do everything in his power to see you happy. But ...” He paused and there was such warmth in his eyes that she didn't know how she managed to stand still and listen, and not dissolve into hysterics at the unfairness of it all. “I know now just how stubborn you are, so whatever happens, this will keep you provided for and in no one's power. I only ask one thing of you, Henri,” he said, his voice low. “Whatever you do with the other six, have one made into something pretty. Wear it when you are happy, and remember me. Will you do that?”
She swallowed hard and reminded herself that he wasn't going to hang, she wouldn't allow it. Blinking away tears, she nodded and he smiled and kissed her cheek, returning the diamonds to the bag one by one for her, as her hands were trembling and she seemed unable to move. He looked away as she tucked the jewels securely into her under things and then followed him out the door.
The men yelled and roared and stamped their feet, angry and uncomprehending at the loss of their captain. Lawrence yelled for silence and she looked around at the faces of men who all turned to him, waiting to hear what their captain had to say.
“Quiet, you miserable beggars,” he roared, though there was humour in his eyes. “We all know, in this life, that our days are numbered. Well my number just got called, but my fate is not yet yours. Mousy is your captain now. If the fates allow, I will make my escape and find my way back to you, but if not ...” He swept the hat from his head and opened his arms in a theatrical gesture. “Then toast to your dear, old Captain Savage, and remember that he was the canniest and the best - and without a doubt the prettiest and most loved by our captives!" There was laughter at that and he grinned at his men, showing Henri all too clearly the character who had been written about in the pamphlets she'd read at home. "But remember most of all, the spoils he led you to made your fortunes, my fine varlets and scapegallows! And then for the love of God, spread yourselves to the four winds, find a nice fat wife each, and a good living and enjoy a little peace. For if you don't you'll be following me to dance with Jack Ketch, and we all know the steps only too well. Take care of yourself, lads. I'll be seein' ye!”
He turned to Mousy, his expression grave. “The minute I'm on that boat, get clear of here, as far as you can get, and keep this safe.” He pressed the key into his hand. “When you hear the news of my death, share it out among the lads.”
Mousy's jaw clenched and he put the circle of thin leather around his neck and the key fell beneath his shirt. “I'll keep it 'till ye get back 'ere, an' that's all I'll do,” he growled, daring Lawrence to contradict him with a furious glare.
Lawrence huffed out a laugh and nodded, and Henri watched as the two men grasped each other's forearms and embraced briefly.
“Be seein' ye then, Capt'n, I'll take good care a the Wench while yer gone.”
“I know you will,” Lawrence said, his voice quiet now.
He looked over the side and Henri followed his gaze. A rope ladder had been slung over the rail and at the bottom waited a small boat. There were four armed men aboard and Henri suddenly noticed the men on deck around her with muskets aimed at those below.
Dizzy with fear, she watched as Lawrence climbed over the rail and onto the ladder.
“Come then, Miss Morton,” he said with a smile, offering his hand as though he was helping her to board a pleasure boat for a Sunday picnic. She took his hand, and managed the rail, finding her feet on the ladder and his reassuring presence behind her, guiding her down into the boat.
Once in the little bobbing gig, she grasped the sides as the sea tilted and rocked them, and the men fell on Lawrence and put him in chains, his arms bound tightly behind his back. There were roars from the deck above and Lawrence yelled himself hoarse, shouting for his men to hold.
“Leave him alone,” she
shouted in fury. “He's come willingly, he's unarmed, what more do you want?”
The men glared at her in disgust, as though she was quite mad to defend the monster they found themselves in company with, and Lawrence hushed her with a shake of his head.
“They're just doing their job, Miss Morton.”
She gritted her teeth and saved her anger up. She'd turn it on the right man soon enough, if he didn't do all in his power to help his brother.
She closed her eyes and gripped the sides of the boat as though her life depended on it, quite certain that at any moment they would be tossed like a child's toy, to sink like marbles into the fathomless cold below the thin planks of wood her feet rested on.
It was with relief and no little surprise then that the thud of wood on wood confirmed they'd made the distance between the ships. She looked at Lawrence to see his gaze trained on his ship as she drew away, as far and as fast as it could go, just as he had instructed. The sun was sinking and the sails all lit up in gold, making it look fanciful and unreal, like something from a mythical tale of Gods and sea monsters. For a moment she saw the loss in his eyes and then, perceiving he was watched, he blinked and forced a smile.
“You're safe now, be home before you know it,” he said with a wink.
She scowled at him and he laughed softly before the men hauled him to his feet. They set her to climb first and she made her way, hampered by sodden skirts that wrapped around her ankles and made it heavy work.
She made the rail and stood shivering as she found herself confronted by armed men. So many to secure one man, it almost made her laugh. She felt Lawrence would be pleased that his reputation had made them take such measures.
She screamed as the man himself was pushed with force up over the rail. They'd made him climb with his hands bound and he hit the deck with a curse.
“For heaven's sake, are you so timid that you must abuse an unarmed man,” she raged at the sailor who had pushed him over the rail.
He scowled at her but held his tongue and snapped to attention as the commander approached them. She turned and swallowed a gasp as she saw the Earl of Falmouth stride towards her. He looked her over, those cool grey eyes sharp and assessing. She realised suddenly that she could see the likeness between the men, in their great height, in the breadth of those wide shoulders and that thick black hair. But where Lawrence's gaze held amusement and that merry, wicked twinkle, this man's presence was far colder.
“I am relieved to find you in such good spirits, Miss Morton,” he said, his voice as calm and emotionless as she remembered. He reached for her hand and she curtsied, stiff and formal, as he placed a perfunctory kiss on her fingers. “I trust you are no worse for your adventures?” She thought in those words there was perhaps a thread of anger, or was that concern, she couldn't be sure.
She raised her chin. “I have been well treated, my lord, and would suggest you interview your captive in private before you allow your men to abuse him any further. I feel we both have much to tell you.”
He frowned at her, clearly perplexed by the demand in her voice, curiosity alight in his eyes.
Lawrence, she noted, had kept his eyes down, his dark hair fallen around his face.
The earl inclined his head a little. “Your wish is my command. Bring the prisoner,” he instructed, and then gestured for her to take his arm and she followed him to the captain's cabin. Though not much larger in size, the earl's cabin was full of polished wood and gleaming brass. It spoke of great wealth and power, and a man who paid attention to details. Suddenly Henri found she hated him more than ever for having all this when Lawrence had lost so much.
The earl turned once Lawrence was brought in, held fast between two men who threw him forward so that he fell to his knees on the cabin floor.
“Oh, can't you leave him be!” she exclaimed and ran back to Lawrence, falling to kneel beside him.
“If you'll forgive me for noting it, Miss Morton, you seem unaccountably concerned for the man that kidnapped you,” the earl remarked, with a cool and slightly disgusted tone.
She stared up at him in fury, feeling the anger she had been tamping down threatening to finally overspill. “I do not forgive you, my Lord! For he did not kidnap but rescued me from a fate I could not contemplate, and if you open your eyes for a moment I think you will find you have much to forgive yourself for, if you have a heart that can feel any remorse at all.”
“Miss Morton,” Lawrence said, his voice soft and amused. “Please do not berate him so, he has nothing to reproach himself for I assure you.”
“What the devil is the meaning of this?” The earl snapped and then fell silent as Lawrence raised his head.
“Hello, Alex.”
Chapter 18
“Wherein ghosts are sent to trouble the living.”
For a moment the room was perfectly still, a quiet calm so intense that Henri held her breath for fear of disturbing the silence with something as trivial as breathing.
The earl had gone a deathly shade of white and was staring at Lawrence in disbelief.
“Out!” he shouted suddenly, and the men who had restrained Lawrence looked startled for a brief second before snapping to attention and leaving the room.
The moment hung suspended once more as Lawrence gazed up at his brother, who stood staring, totally still.
When he did move, he turned away and snatched open a drawer in his desk, removing a key. Then he returned, moving behind Lawrence and undoing the restraints. The chains fell to the floor with a clatter and Lawrence stumbled to his feet only to be thrown across the room as the earl drew back his fist and smashed it squarely into his jaw.
Henri screamed and ran to Lawrence who was crumpled against the wall, bleeding from his mouth and looking a little dazed.
“That's for ten years, you bastard!” the earl said, his voice brittle. “Ten years of guilt and misery and regret, for letting our father go to his grave believing he would see you again at last!”
“I'm sorry, Alex.” Lawrence looked up at him, sorrow in his eyes and Henri watched the earl in turn, remembering now, all the reasons she had felt so very afraid of him. That cold, proud exterior that made you believe no emotion could ever touch him, except perhaps for a sharp, clean, slice of anger. And then it all seemed to fall away and he reached down and hauled his brother to his feet and embraced him with such ferocity she expected to hear the crack of ribs.
“Damn you, Lawrence, damn you, of all the things you could have done, you ran off and became a pirate. When you well know it was the thing I always dreamed of.”
Lawrence laughed, though his voice was a little unsteady. “I know it, Alex, and I'm sorry for it but ... but I thought I'd killed you, I saw you go down and ...”
“And you never thought to check?” Alex raged, angry all over again now as he turned and walked away from his brother. “You never thought to return and see for yourself?”
Lawrence shrugged. “I heard them cry out that Lord Sinclair was dead, I didn't think much else was required, and even if you weren't dead, which never crossed my mind, I shot you, Alex! How could you ever forgive me?”
“Because you were a green-headed young fool and you never meant to. I got in the way on purpose but I couldn't let you kill a militia man, they would have hanged you and even our father's name wouldn't have saved you then.”
“Or now,” Lawrence said with a shrug.
Alex rubbed his face with his hand. “Good God, how are we to get out of this?”
“We don't.” Lawrence looked at him and shook his head. “I'm Captain Savage and there is nothing to be done, I won't have you risk the family name for me after all I've done. Just hand me over and I'll take my chances, Alex.”
Alex looked back at him in disgust at the idea, and Henri wondered if perhaps she had been too hard on him. “Damn the family name,” he raged. “I won't lose my brother twice.”
Lawrence gaped at him, obviously astonished that his brother should say such a thing. “B-bu
t, the family honour, our history should remain untainted - that is above all else, no matter what, you always said ...”
“And I was a bloody fool!” the earl exclaimed. “Flesh and blood should come before all else, the living are what matter. I should never have been so hard on you, you were just a boy. It was all my fault.”
Henri watched this exchange with astonishment, though hers seemed to be mild compared to the shock in Lawrence's eyes. He looked dumbstruck.
“I need to think,” Alex continued. “For now I will have to allow the men to take you to the hold in chains, though I am sorry for it. However I cannot see what else is to be done for the moment. I will make sure you are not ill-treated but I need time to think of a way out of this.”
Lawrence seemed to be trying to say something but the words wouldn't come. Henri grasped his arm and gave a little squeeze.
“You were right,” she said, nodding towards the Earl. “About your brother, now do as he says and let him help you.”
Lawrence shook his head and looked back up at him. “If anyone discovers you let me go there'll be hell to pay, Alex. I can't let you risk it. I won't, after all I have done!”
Alex turned on him then, and his anger was something to behold. Henri held her breath as the Earl's rage hit them like a furnace.
“Let me? You won't let me? Damn you, Lawrence. I saw the bullets hit you, three bullets! I saw you bathed in your own blood and I saw you fall into the sea. I have lived and relived that scene in nightmares for a lifetime. Do you seriously think I could live with seeing you hanged? Do you think I can contemplate it and keep my sanity intact? For God knows I feel I've had little grasp on it for the last decade!”
The earl took a breath and she saw the cold demeanour he wore like a cloak slip neatly into place. “You will go now, Captain Savage, while I consider what to do with you. As for you, Miss Morton, you must be tired. I will give you my cabin for the voyage, a meal, and someone to assist you will be sent shortly. I believe you will find some of your belongings in that chest,” he said, gesturing to a small box to the side of his desk.
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