Rebellious Cargo

by Susan Lodge

  Her head reeled back and she gasped as his hands delved inside the bodice of her dress searching for the parchment. She whimpered with terror as his fingers grappled around her breasts. Her free arm flailed in the air trying to strike him. Harrow grasped it, and securing both her wrists in one hand, his other now snaked amongst her skirts. Her knees buckled as his fingers slid up her thighs and finally located the pocket in her skirts. Removing the slip of parchment, he shoved her backwards. Her shoulder connected with the stone wall and she slithered to the ground. Sharp pain flashed through her back as Jane watched him scrutinise her translation. He looked puzzled and glanced back at her.

  “This is all? The complete message – the document had more.”

  She shook her head. “No, that is it. There appeared to be more, but in this code, many of the letters are fillers.”

  He looked back at the translation. His name was not mentioned, just Rosa Santos. He had expected more of Clayfield’s last words. But the coordinates were complete – he had waited a long time to claim his prize. At last he could leave this damn island and the service behind him. The Spanish ship he had been commanded to escort through the Channel, had always been his – the key to his future security. He had waited patiently – as had the Admiralty – for clues of the missing fortune it had been carrying. The treasure that would have funded a huge increase to England’s defences. Clayfield had known, of course – he had intercepted the last link to its whereabouts and it had cost him his life. And now his daughter would face the same fate. He looked over at her thoughtfully.

  He needed to persuade her to do one last thing. He fingered her companion’s bracelet in his pocket. Thank goodness he had taken a souvenir from her before she had drowned.

  “Get to your desk, Mrs. Charlesworth. I need you to write a short letter.”

  Jane shakily rose to her feet. “My father died over this information – it must be important. Will you at least tell me who Rosa Santos is and why her whereabouts is so important?”

  “Not so smart, Mrs. Charlesworth, after all.” He marvelled at the defiance in those big brown eyes. The woman certainly had courage. She was not on her knees begging for mercy or rolling her eyes to entice him with favours.

  Stepping aside, he pulled out a piece of clean paper from the desk and spread it out in front of her.

  “You now have to disappear, of course, and I need it to look as though you have left on your own accord. Gone to visit Marston, perhaps. I will dictate your note for Cookson.”

  She gave him a withering look. “In that case it is foolish for me to help you if you are going to kill me anyway. I shall certainly not write you a motive for my disappearance. You have no hope of succeeding.”

  “But I might not kill you – I might just sell you to the French. They would pay a nice price for someone with your skills. And, of course, there is Celine.”

  Jane’s head jerked up. “She is safe?”

  “Not exactly – I have her back in slave chains. You would like to see her, no doubt.”

  “And then you will kill us both,” Jane whispered. “But you will be found out, Harrow, you cannot win.”

  “I have already won, Mrs. Charlesworth. I am still in command here. And when Cookson has learnt of your foolish act of leaving this house, he will just ask me to arrange a search. I will have plenty of time to claim my fortune. And I doubt your precious Captain Marston has managed to figure out which of his crew is a traitor. That fact will still be very useful to me.”

  She widened her eyes. So Harrow did have an accomplice on board the Serena. “And who is that?” Jane asked.

  He pointed to the parchment. “First the letter, Mrs. Charlesworth. And if you really want to see your friend Celine again, I suggest you hurry.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jane picked up the quill and hesitated. Harrow wouldn’t let her live – he couldn’t. But she dare not call his bluff over Celine. She stared at the bracelet for a few moments. Celine had never been without it since Jane’s father had given it to her on their first Christmas together.

  Harrow moved to her side and proceeded to dictate the short message.

  Dear Sir Robert,

  I have found that my earlier interpretation of the code was flawed and I have failed to make sense of the document. I am at a loss of what to try next and fear the document has beaten me.

  I have gone to the Serena. My feelings for Captain Marston are of, shall we say, a personal nature, and extend far beyond duty. Therefore, I need to speak with him before he sails. Forgive me for failing to gain permission from Captain Harrow, but I fear he would deny my request and try to keep me within the safety of this house.

  She signed it, the knot of fear tightening in her belly as she handed it to Harrow. Had she just sealed her death warrant?

  “How did my father really die?” she asked. It was important to know, to understand what had happened. “Did you kill him?”

  Harrow checked the message before looking over to answer her question.

  “Rosa Santos is a ship, not a woman, and your father had learned the real fate of its rather valuable cargo. Once he had the information, he – like you – had to do the decent thing, even though he was offered a considerable fortune to change his allegiance.”

  Jane scowled at the man. “My father was an honourable man – a concept that would be unknown to you.” Her voice was venomous as she fought to control her temper. “So he had discovered where this precious cargo had been taken?”

  Harrow nodded. “He already had suspicions from previous correspondence that a conspiracy had taken place, but he was unsure who was involved. It was clear at least one high ranking officer was implicated in the initial plan to divert the cargo. As far as public knowledge went, the gold from the Rosa Santos was on board when she sank. In truth, it was removed for safe-keeping.”

  “You stole it – and then you sank the ship, sacrificing all on board.”

  “Well, not quite, my dear. There was a longboat of selected survivors to verify the sad tale of how the ship had undergone damage from a freak storm and sunk.”

  “Paid handsomely, I suppose.”

  “As were the ones who were supposed to take the treasure to the Cornish coast and deposit it in a prearranged location. But then someone had a conscience attack – and relocated it. Then they sent a coded message to the British Intelligence. Your father was working on it the week you were sent away. But he managed to send a message out to his great friend Cookson, naming his suspicions of certain traitors. I intercepted this and destroyed it. But your father was a very cautious man and I did not know he had taken the precaution of sending a further missive. The one that contains the coordinates – and used a code no one could crack but the persons he trusted beyond doubt.”

  “And then you had him murdered,” Jane whispered.

  “Sadly he had to go. He was a very clever man, but a little too noble for his own good.”

  “He would never have given in to scum like you.”

  Harrow gave a mirthless laugh before his eyes narrowed. “And now you risk your life in the same way as your father. So, why do you talk of duty when the service has treated you so shabbily? It is amazing you have survived up until now – you are like a kitten with nine lives. Now! It is time for us to leave. Unfortunately you will not be walking out. I have a sea chest in which your body will fit nicely; then it can be discreetly locked and dispatched later.”

  “What about Celine?” Jane whispered, her head trying to formulate someway to stall Harrow’s intentions.

  “I had no use for her as I have no further use for you. Surely you can see I cannot allow you to live with your newfound knowledge.”

  They both reeled around at the slight noise of the door creaking.

  Jane gasped as she saw the familiar figure slide into the room.

  Harrow’s face contorted in anger. “Confound it! What are you doing here? I told you to stay with the ship. I need you to keep an eye on Marston. Damn it!
Do you not realise we are almost there? I have the document nicely translated.”

  A wave of abject sorrow washed over Jane as she stared at the midshipman. “Ben! Oh no, it can’t be you mixed up in my abduction. Were you and Crosby in this together all along?”

  Ben Blackton looked at her as though his life was over. His eyes, deep pools of misery, seemed to plead for her understanding. “I am sorry, Mrs. Charlesworth. I never intended for you to get hurt… Things got out of hand and I had to protect my family name. Crosby discovered my secret and he had to be brought into the plan.”

  Harrow interrupted his voice harsh.

  “He is my nephew, Mrs. Charlesworth. The document could have sunk his future as well. My sister – his mother – is in my debt and protection until my useless brother-in-law recovers his senses.”

  Ben’s head snapped around to face Harrow. “My father, he is just sick—”

  “Stop that! Remember your family name is at stake. Now get back to Marston’s ship and stay there.”

  Ben fixed Harrow with an unwavering stare. “You promised the women would not be hurt – but you intend to kill her. I cannot permit that, Uncle.”

  Harrow took a step towards the boy. “Out! Back to the ship before you are missed.”

  Ben looked towards Jane, his eyes searching her face. “Was my father’s name mentioned in the translation?”

  Jane shook her head, a gleam of hope shooting through her. “No, Ben, he was not mentioned. There is nothing in this document to implicate your name.” She turned to Harrow. “I cannot believe how low you would stoop – you have dragged your nephew into your filthy affairs.”

  “Quiet, woman! Ben, do you know what Marston will do to you when he finds out how you betrayed his trust? Can’t you see, boy – you have no choice, it is too late to change your mind now.”

  Ben did not budge and for a few seconds he looked as he was wrestling with some inner demon. Jane held her breath as he finally stepped forward, positioning himself between her and Harrow. He looked hollow-eyed at his uncle. “You will not harm her. I have nothing left to lose. You gave me your word the women would not be hurt, but then you left Celine to drown.”

  “No!” The anguished word fell from Jane’s lips. She sank back in her seat as if she had been struck. Oh, how stupid she was; of course he had killed Celine – why wouldn’t he? And now he would kill her.

  But Ben! She could hardly credit it. He was the last person she would have suspected as betraying his captain – betraying her. She raised her eyes to the boy; the tremor in his voice was pronounced as he continued to speak to Harrow, shielding her with his slight body.

  “I will not let you kill Mrs. Charlesworth. My life is over after my actions. I feel dirty – you, Uncle, have made me so.”

  Harrow swiftly stepped forward and silenced the boy with a blow across the head that sent him spinning towards the ground. He then moved to the boy’s side and leaned over, his fist poised for another blow. Enraged by his violence, Jane sprang from her seat and caught Harrow’s arm. Turning, he tried to shake her free, but she held on like an angry terrier.

  Suddenly two hands engulfed her waist from behind, tugging her away from Harrow, and she fell back against a wall of warm flesh. Relief flooded her as Adam’s familiar voice reached her ears.

  “Really, Harrow, a woman on one arm and a youth on the other – such bravery. And as for you, Mrs. Charlesworth, brawling is really not an attractive pursuit.”

  He dropped her on her feet behind him and then swiftly turned back and delivered a punch to Harrow’s chin that sent him staggering back towards his nephew, who was just scurrying up to his feet. Ben’s eyes were like saucers as his captain addressed him. “Get out and take Mrs. Charlesworth downstairs with you.”

  Jane stared at Adam with blazing moist eyes. “You took your time, Captain.” She waved a hand towards Harrow. “This man is a traitor. He killed Celine.”

  “She is fine,” he said softly, then nodded towards Harrow. “Celine was plucked from the watery grave he left her in and made it back to the ship to tell us all about her time as Harrow’s guest. Cookson is downstairs with a band of marines. You will go and join him. Now.”

  Adam quickly removed his coat as he watched Harrow stirring in the corner. “I have not quite finished my business here.”

  “What are you going to do?” Jane said with a sinking heart. “You cannot fight – he has to be arrested. It is pointless you getting hurt for no reason.”

  He gave her a hard stare. “I have a very good reason, Jane – now go and wait downstairs.”

  “It is ridiculous to brawl. The man needs arresting…” Again she found her feet dangling in the air as he picked her up and placed her outside the door, and then gestured to his stunned midshipman to follow. “You and I will talk later,” he said quietly to the boy. “Wait downstairs.”

  The door closed behind the both of them, and Jane heard the key turn. Seconds later the room filled with sounds of splintering wood, and grunts of pain.

  “Damn idiot!” She kicked the door then turned and hurried down the stairs behind Ben, meeting Cookson on his way up, followed by a party of marines.

  “Jane, thank goodness.” He puffed out a laboured breath and put a steadying hand on the banister. “I am sorry, my dear, that you had to endure this.” He wiped a hand across his ashen face. “I could hardly believe it, and I left Harrow to care for you. Are you unhurt?”

  “Yes,” she snapped impatiently, “but Harrow’s up there, you need to arrest him. Before they kill each other.”

  He gazed up the stairs and held up a hand to halt the marines behind him. Her eyes snapped back at him in frustration. She pointed up the stairs. “Harrow – you have to arrest him.”

  To her surprise Cookson seemed reluctant to move forward and just said, “Oh, I think Marston just wants a little time to himself with Harrow.” The sounds of more splintering wood ricocheted down the stairs. Jane winced and then scowled at Cookson.

  “He won’t kill Harrow, of course,” Cookson murmured. “He has to be interrogated.”

  “Harrow! What about Adam…I mean Captain Marston. He might get killed.”

  Cookson gave her an amused stare. “Do not fret. Marston will be getting immense satisfaction from these few minutes I have permitted him alone with Harrow.”

  Oh really. Were they all mad? She sighed wearily as Cookson steered her down the last two stairs before he turned and gave a soundless command to the marines. She shivered, noting the sudden quiet from the rooms above.

  Cookson settled her in a chair in his study and poured her a brandy. “Here, this will steady your nerves. I am so sorry, Jane. I could hardly credit what has happened. I had been harbouring the one person I should have been protecting you against. But Harrow has an impeccable record and was the last person that I would have suspected.”

  “He fooled a lot of people,” Jane whispered.

  Cookson nodded. “But I suspect Marston had his suspicions, and of course Harrow hadn’t bargained on Celine surviving, or his nephew having a turn of conscience.”

  He gave her a pat on the arm and turned to go. “I must make my report and dispatch it immediately. Please help yourself to another brandy.”

  She sipped the fiery liquid, sinking back in the chair, listening to the noise of clattering feet outside. She wanted Adam, she needed to see him, and surely he wouldn’t disappear again before… She groaned. She hadn’t exactly been civil to him upstairs, but her heart had overflowed with joy at his timely arrival. Pity she couldn’t interpret it into her greeting.

  Minutes later she jumped to her feet as the door opened. Her breath escaped with a rush as Adam sauntered into the room. He was grinning, his raven hair wild, and his eyes blazing. He looked glorious – dangerous. Her belly melted with a huge rush of desire.

  She took a few quick steps forwards then checked herself. “Thank goodness you are in one piece.” She glared at him as she walked closer, and gently touched the swelling aro
und his cheek. “That looks sore and so unnecessary.”

  “Oh I think it was necessary,” he replied, smiling at her and completely ignoring her glare.

  “Is Harrow still alive?”

  “Oh, yes – painfully conscious and on his way to the cells.”

  Her face softened as she saw the expression in his eyes. “You certainly know how to make an entrance; did you have to leave it until the last minute? I expected to have only a few more seconds to live. Harrow was right when he said I had nine lives. I am sure they are all used up.”

  “In that case I will need to watch you every minute from now on. I’m sorry, I should have been here sooner, only I was diverted.”

  He put his arms gently around her and she knew he was giving her the chance to pull away. But she didn’t resist. She leaned against him, tilting her head up to meet his lips. It was a short sweet kiss, both mindful that they were likely to be disturbed any second, but it was a potent kiss. It settled her doubts – she wanted him and she wanted to be free of the fear embedded by that awful violation of her body. It was time to face her demons and overcome them. This was the man she had to do this for.

  She lifted her head from his chest. His lips curled upwards and his arms tightened slightly. There was something in his eyes – something that bothered her, something new, something sad. Was it sympathy? Doubt?

  “Celine is unharmed?” she asked, suddenly wondering if what she had heard upstairs was really true.

  He nodded. “Against all odds. Harrow left her to drown.”

  A noise at the door made him release her as Cookson entered. Jane noticed instantly the admiral was back in command by the steely look in his eye. But they softened as he turned to her. “So you succeeded in discovering the code, Jane. I knew you would. You are so much like your father – he would be so proud of you.” The words danced inside her as he continued. “And he would probably want to send me to hell for not protecting you properly.”

  She sat down with the two men as the document and the translation were spread out on the desk, and proceeded to explain the contents and all that had transpired between her and Harrow.