Scoundrel's Daughter

by Margo Maguire

  Jack forced himself to remain in place, silently watching from his well-hidden niche behind a fishing boat. He’d followed horse tracks to the cove and discovered Alastair and his cohorts at the far end of the quay. Fishermen’s boats as well as several pleasure boats were moored here, and a formidable steamship was anchored some distance out. A good many sailboats plied the coastal waters, too.

  Jack felt a muscle spasm in his jaw as the Turk stepped around Dorothea’s unconscious body, then knelt beside her. He wanted to break the man in two when he lifted her eyelids, then slid his hands around her waist, up her torso, and back down to her hips.

  The Turk looked up at Bright and spoke. “She is damaged. One thousand.”

  “Bloody hell, she’s worth ten times as much. She’s a virgin and as fair as you are dark. That bruise will be gone in a few days. Two thousand.”

  “Fifteen hundred.”

  “Seventeen and we’ll have a deal.”

  When their business was concluded, the man in the turban had one of his men haul Dorothea off the sand and load her into the dinghy. Jack almost came out of hiding to toss the fellow into the sea, but he waited. He would not be able to take on the two Turks with their scimitars, as well as Alastair and his men.

  Jack saw Neville shove a thick leather purse into his shirt. He unwrapped his horse’s reins and mounted. “I’m off then,” Neville said. “See you in London.”

  Bright moved to do the same, but Paco stepped in front of him, preventing him from going to his horse. “My cut.”

  “You got your cut.”

  Paco crossed his arms over his massive chest and shook his head. “I think to sell girl. My cut.” He held out one beefy hand. “Now.”

  “Forget it, Fleming,” Bright said. “She was mine to sell. There’s no commission.”

  The best thing to do was to take one of these boats and go after Dorrie while her father and Fleming were arguing. With any luck, he thought, the two would come to blows and beat each other senseless.

  Taking his derringer from its usual place in his boot, Jack put it in his pocket. It had only two shots, so if Jack needed to shoot, he would have to make it count.

  Fleming and Bright continued to argue, and Jack looked over the boats that were moored on the wharf. Most were fishing boats, too large for one man to handle. A couple of skiffs, a dinghy and several small sailboats were tied there.

  Though it had been years since he’d sailed, Jack decided a sailboat would serve his purposes best. It was likely to move faster than he could row, and it would not seem out of place in these waters. The men who had Dorrie would not think twice when they saw a pleasure sailboat in their vicinity.

  Dorothea came to consciousness slowly. She felt ill, though her heart seemed to be beating normally, and she did not feel short of breath. Her head ached abominably, and nausea assailed her. Something was wrong with her hands—she could not feel them.

  When Dorothea finally gathered enough courage to crack one eyelid open, she could not get her bearings. She had no idea where she was.

  Squinting against the flickering lights in the room, her surroundings came into focus. A wooden floor with a thick rug woven in an intricate pattern of colors. A massive desk with papers. A chair.

  A powerful wave of dizziness hit her, and she closed her eyes again. Nothing was familiar. Not the sights, not the smells.

  Dorothea tried to sit up, and realized that her hands were bound behind her. She was a prisoner! Had her father tied her up and locked her away in this room? She did not doubt that the scoundrel would do such a thing to his own daughter. But where was she?

  She struggled to swing her legs around and push herself to a sitting position without using her hands. A large, heavily curtained window was behind her, and when she managed to turn and look out, she discovered she was on the water. She was in some kind of boat.

  Fighting dizziness, Dorothea stood up and realized she wore only one shoe. Puzzled by its loss, she knew there was nothing to be done about it now. She had to get free. Hoping there would be something sharp with which to cut her bonds, she made her way to the desk and turned her back to it, twisting her neck so she could see what she was doing.

  She shifted the papers, then pulled out drawers in her search. But the most likely drawer—the center one—was locked. No matter how hard she tried, she could not get it to open. Remembering the last time she’d come across a locked drawer, she wished for Jack’s small gun.

  Then she let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. If she had Jack’s gun, she wouldn’t need a knife, would she?

  Turning her attention back to the drawer, Dorothea looked for something she could use to pry it open. She was sure there had to be something, if not on the desk, then somewhere in the room.

  Voices from somewhere outside caught Dorothea’s attention, and she froze in place. They did not sound like her father or the two men who worked for him.

  Some instinct made her move quickly to the soft mattress she’d been lying on when she’d awakened. She had not been harmed while unconscious, so she could only think that whoever held her captive would leave her alone until she awakened. She lay down, closed her eyes and feigned insensibility while she wondered if she could make herself violently ill if the situation demanded it.

  The door opened, and Dorothea discerned the voices of two men. Their language was not English.

  As frightened as she was, she forced herself to remain limp and try to figure out what they were saying. For the next few moments, they were silent, then one of them touched her.

  The man’s hands were all over her, and Dorothea forced herself not to react in any way, even though it was the most awful, demeaning thing that had ever happened to her. As much as she wanted to let her mind go blank, she had to remain aware, in order to determine who they were and what they were going to do with her.

  When they spoke, she was able to translate most of what was said, but it made no sense to her. The context of their conversation was strange—a lot of talk about money and percentages. Then, as one of the men spoke of her hair color, the other pulled up her eyelids and gasped sharply.

  “Very unusual!” he exclaimed.

  “What did I tell you,” the first one said. “With all this soft, fair skin and those eyes, she will bring a fine price.”

  “Bright said she was a virgin. Have you tried her?”

  “Of course not, lord,” the man said, his voice sounding aghast. “She is yours. My gift….”

  Dorothea was shocked and appalled but did not react visibly to their conversation, though she quaked with panic inside. As soon as they left, she would find a way to get her hands loose, then get out of there. There had to be a way.

  A few minutes later, the two men stepped away from her. They argued about whether or not the one would keep her or if it would be better to regain the money they’d paid her father, by selling her when they returned to Istanbul.

  Horrified, Dorothea swallowed repeatedly to keep from being sick. She had to keep her wits intact if she was going to have a chance at escape. The first challenge would be to get her hands freed. Then she would see about getting out the door, and after that…Maybe she would be able to find someone on this boat who would help—

  The door crashed open and the two men ducked back into the room, followed by Jack Temple. He was barefoot and soaking wet, and Dorothea had never seen him look so fierce.

  He struck at once, using his fist on one of the two men, knocking him to the floor. The second man drew his sword, but Jack ducked away from the jab and picked up the desk chair. He swung the chair, knocking the sword out of the man’s hand, but the one on the ground suddenly stood and attacked Jack from behind.

  Dorothea got herself to a sitting position and watched, terrified for Jack. But he grabbed the man behind him and threw him forward as if he weighed no more than a sack of feathers. The man crashed into the first attacker and landed heavily upon him.

  Jack kicked the sword aside and pulled his
little gun out of his pocket.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered. “Dorrie, are you all right?” he asked without taking his eyes from the men.

  “Jack!”

  “I guess that means yes,” he said as he knelt and began searching the two men. “Stay where you are. I’ll get you out of those ropes in a minute.”

  When Jack was satisfied that he’d disarmed the men, he kept the gun trained on them and took a quick glance around the room. Reaching down, he picked up the sword and went to the window. In one quick slice, he’d cut the cords that held the heavy curtains open.

  Before long, he had both men tied and gagged. Seeing that they were no longer a threat, he shoved the gun back into his pocket and turned to Dorrie.

  “Hold out your arms, honey,” he said. In an instant, she was free, but her hands burned with the tingling pain of her returning circulation. He pulled her into his arms, and Dorothea knew there was no place she’d rather be.

  “Jack, I’m so sor—”

  He kissed her, cutting off her apology. His hands cupped her chin, her cheeks, then slipped into her hair. “God, Dorrie, you had me worried.”

  She swallowed and pressed her forehead against his chin, so happy to be in his arms, yet afraid they would never escape. “How will we get out of here?” she asked. “How did you get here? How did you know how to fi—”

  “Sweetheart, listen. We’re going to have to steal a boat,” he said. “This isn’t going to be easy, but we can do it. Take the gun.”

  “Jack, I don’t know how to shoot.”

  “That’s all right, because it’s full of seawater anyway. It won’t shoot.”

  “Then what—”

  “We might need to use it again, like I did with these two. Just as a threat.” He pulled away from her and knelt at her feet. Taking hold of her one remaining shoe, he pulled it off. “You’ll be cold but better off barefoot. Quieter.”

  He stood and took her hand, pulling her up to face him. “I was unfair to you, Dorrie,” he said. “I could have told you any number of things that would have verified what I told you about your father, but I was stubborn. I wanted you to take my word for it.”

  “Jack, I know what he’s like now.”

  He nodded. “But I never gave you credit for your loyalty to him. You put your faith in him and never heeded my accusations. I admire that, and I want you to trust me now, just as you did Alastair.”

  “I do, Jack,” Dorothea said, then she added in a whisper, “I love you.”

  “Dorrie,” he said, and an instant later, his lips came down on hers. She felt as if he were taking possession of her, body and soul. And when he tipped his head slightly to deepen the kiss, her bones melted.

  He pulled away abruptly and shoved his fingers through his hair. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now,” he said. “Follow me.”

  “Jack,” she said, stopping him. “What about the Mandylion?” she asked. “Is it here on the ship?”

  “I suppose, but there’s no time to search for it,” he said. “I’ve got what I came for, anyway.”

  He opened the door just a crack and looked outside. When he decided it was safe, he took Dorothea by the hand and led her from the room. They padded quietly down a short corridor that was dark but for a couple of oil lamps hanging from hooks in the walls. Dorothea jumped at every shadow and hoped they would meet no one.

  They had almost reached the stairs when a man came out of nowhere, running at them, shouting for them to stop. Jack pushed Dorothea out of the way and met the attack, fighting fiercely until another crewman joined in. Dorothea fingered the small pistol and wondered if she could threaten these men with it.

  She decided against it. What if she were forced to pull the trigger and nothing happened?

  One of the men punched Jack’s face and Dorothea saw blood streaming from a cut in his lip. Jack got in the next punch, but the second man reached for a length of something made of wood or possibly metal. He would have struck Jack with it, but Dorothea went down to the floor and, with both hands, yanked one of his legs out from under him. The man yelped as he fell heavily, and Dorothea scooted quickly away.

  With one powerful punch, Jack slammed the other man into the wall, knocking one of the lanterns down. The wooden floor caught fire immediately as the oil spilled out and began to spread down the corridor. Both crewman shouted and started working to put out the flames, while Jack grabbed Dorothea’s hand and ran up the stairs. Once on deck they kept running, and Dorothea knew Jack wanted to lead them away from where the crew would soon be concentrated. The fire was serving as an effective diversion.

  When they got to a railing, Jack quickly looked around for any free crewmen, then pointed out toward shore. “There’s no time to steal a lifeboat,” he said. “See that little sailboat out there?”

  Frowning, Dorothea shaded her eyes and looked into the distance. “Yes.”

  “That’s our transportation,” he said.

  Panic welled in Dorothea’s throat. “But Jack, I—”

  “Do you trust me, honey?”

  “Of course I do, but Jack….”

  He sat on the edge of the rail, then picked her up and climbed over the side. And then he jumped.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It wasn’t until they surfaced that Dorrie stopped fighting him. He knew she trusted him, but instinct made her flail her arms and legs in an effort to rise to the surface.

  Holding on to her, he spoke while he swam, reassuring her that they were going to be fine.

  He wasn’t sure that was true, though. The fire on the Turk’s ship had spread and black smoke billowed over the water. It was dangerous to be so close to such a fire, and he hurried to get to the small boat he’d anchored a discreet distance away.

  It was a struggle to get on board once they reached it, but Jack managed to climb aboard, then pull Dorrie in after him. Once inside, she lay panting on the floor of the sailboat.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Apparently unable to speak, she nodded and turned over. She threw her arms around Jack’s neck and pulled him down, holding him close. “I don’t know how you did it, but you saved my life, Jack,” she cried. “Thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary,” he said. “I did it for myself.”

  “What?”

  “I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, honey,” he said. “I had to come for you.”

  He kissed her mouth, her eyes, her neck, and then they started laughing.

  “We’d better get out of here,” he said, pulling up the anchor. The first explosion sounded just as Jack unfurled the sail and took hold of the tiller.

  There was a steady wind, so he was able to put a good deal of distance between them and the burning ship. A few minutes later, there was another explosion and the steamship began to sink. Men were dropping lifeboats and jumping ship as Jack and Dorrie watched. They sailed away to a safe distance and watched as the Turkish ship sank, the Mandylion with her.

  “It’s tragic,” Dorrie said. “The Mandylion was real. I saw it. I held it, and it healed what ailed me.”

  Jack didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

  “My heart,” she said. “It’s been weak for most of my life.”

  Jack frowned, remembering all the times Dorrie had seemed too taxed by some minor physical exertion.

  “I could never do the things other girls did,” she said. “No swimming or riding, nothing vigorous…Whenever I got a chill, I couldn’t warm up again.”

  Jack remembered that.

  “My mother kept me close to her,” she went on, “and made sure I did nothing to overexert myself, or I would end up in bed with fluid in my lungs and swelling in my ankles. The doctor said my heart was failing.”

  The thought of losing her made Jack’s blood run cold. In a short time she had become everything to him. He wanted to show her all the exotic places in the world, and he wanted to take her to New York.

  “Come home with me, Dorrie,”
Jack said, pulling her into his arms. “We’ll find a doctor in New York who specializes in heart ailments, someone—”

  “Jack,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “My heart is, well, it’s all right now. Last night, when my father and his men were digging at the manor house, I was sick. So sick that I could feel my heart beating out of control, my lungs filling with fluid, and…I thought I was dying.”

  “Christ, Dorrie—”

  “No, listen. When they unearthed the Mandylion, I held it in my hands, and I felt something change. I wasn’t weak and sick anymore. My heart beat strong and true. In a short while, my lungs were clear.”

  Jack looked down at her in puzzlement.

  “Then, all night long, I overextended myself,” she said. “I stayed up all night at Alastair’s hideaway and stole the Mandylion when they went to sleep. I ran for miles, trying to get to you—”

  “I would have found you.”

  “Paco found me first.”

  It had been a close call. Had he waited another hour, had Marjorie Browning not mentioned the song and the manor house…Jack might have lost her.

  “Come here,” he said. She scooted closer and, while keeping one hand on the tiller, he put the other arm around her. He kissed her forehead.

  “What about the Mandylion?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “What about it?”

  “Do you think it will ever be recovered?”

  Jack looked back at the ship going down in the deep waters of the North Sea. “No, honey. I don’t think it’s meant to be.”

  Several officials awaited them when they returned to shore. They were given blankets and hot tea and taken to the magistrate’s office to give their version of the morning’s events.

  Dorothea watched through one of the windows as her father and his cohorts were taken away in manacles. She felt nothing but emptiness, watching him go.

  Once their official statements were signed, Jack and Dorothea returned to the Marine Hotel, where they both bathed and dressed in their spare clothes. Neither of them mentioned the words they’d spoken while they were in the midst of danger.