The Ransom: Legacy of the King's Pirates

by Marylu Tyndall

  “Yer articles state, Cap’n,” one rather greasy-looking fellow shouted from the quarterdeck, where more of the crew congregated, “that yer t’ share all the treasure wit’ the crew!”

  “Aye, aye,” several pirates agreed.

  Juliana gulped.

  Alex faced the main deck, his jaw tight, his stance commanding. “She is not treasure, gentlemen. She is a lady. My lady. And her presence here is by accident. And by God she will be returned in the same condition in which she arrived.” He gripped the hilt of his cutlass and scanned them all with biting eyes. “Or you’ll answer to me. Do you take me, gentlemen?”

  His voice boomed, and Juliana suddenly found herself glad he was in command.

  “Now, back to work, or I’ll leave you worthless maggots on the nearest empty speck of land!”

  Though a few grumbled, and a few stared back at their captain in defiance, eventually all returned to their duties. All except one man who slowly emerged from below, shoulder-length dark hair tossed in the wind and a hand to his forehead as if his head pained him. When he finally halted mid-deck and glanced up, his pleasing looks did naught to suppress the chill that slithered down Juliana when his gaze met hers.

  ♥♥♥

  “Take her below,” Alex ordered Jonas, then leapt down the quarterdeck ladder and approached Larkin. But the man’s eyes were locked on Juliana like a bolt without a key.

  “Scads! Do my eyes deceive me? Who is the beauty?” He snapped hair from his face and ran a hand over his mouth, swallowing as if he were dying of thirst.

  “She’s mine,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder just in time to see Jonas and Miss Dutton slip below. “What did you do with the tapestry from Madrid?”

  “Where did she come from?”

  Alex jerked the man around to face him. “Never mind about her. What did you do with the tapestry?”

  “No need to shout, Captain.” Larkin scratched the stubble on his jaw and gaped at Alex with gray eyes streaked in red. “The what?”

  “There is every need to shout!” Alex returned, his patience waning. “We were nearly boarded last night by the Navy. Confound it, man! If I could but trust you.” Alex ran a hand through his hair and lowered his voice. “You put the entire crew at risk of the noose!”

  Larkin closed his eyes and held up a hand. “You do me most unfairly, Captain. I have given you no cause for mistrust, have I?”

  Lud, the man had. But only in Alex’s gut. “A most damnable folly, Larkin. Where is that tapestry?”

  “Tossed overboard, as you ordered.” The creak of blocks and rattle of sails joined Larkin’s painful groan as he rubbed his eyes and gave a snort of disdain. “I assume you executed a search? Wouldn’t you have found it otherwise? Why such bad faith?”

  Why, indeed. Yet the mistrust continued. Mayhap ’twas the malicious gleam in the man’s eyes, or the defiance in his grin, but something had the hairs on Alex’s neck standing on end.

  “Very well. Set us on a course back to Port Royal.” And, in the meantime, Alex would assign more men to search the ship.

  “Aye, aye, Captain, Port Royal it is.” As the man sauntered away, whistling a tune, several of the crewmen glanced up as he passed, a few with winks, some with knowing nods. All causing a knot to form in Alex’s stomach. Was a mutiny brewing aboard his ship? Had Alex been so preoccupied with Juliana over the past month that he’d missed the telltale signs? The men had been disgruntled when he’d not attacked the Dutton merchant ship. And of course now having the lovely Juliana aboard didn’t help. But surely those two things weren’t enough to cause his crew to turn on him when he’d done naught but line their pockets with gold.

  Yet pirates were a fickle lot. Fickle and greedy. Not just for gold and silver, but some for power as well. There could not be a mutiny now—not with Juliana on board. For he did not want to consider what the pirates would do to her once they got him out of the way.

  Chapter 31

  “Alex is not who you think he is,” Jonas said as he escorted Juliana back into her prison.

  “Yes, I believe I found that out recently,” she quipped, running her hands over the oak desk, admiring the carvings of ships on either side.

  “I do not refer to his role as Lord Munthrope. What I mean to say is that he’s not barbaric or cruel. He doesn’t murder his victims.”

  “After he robs them of all their goods, you mean? How comforting.” She turned to face him. “A pirate is a pirate, Mr. Nash.”

  “We are not all alike.”

  This man who stood before her certainly wasn’t a typical pirate. Intelligence and civility shone from eyes that were a pleasant mixture of green and gold. She could not fathom his purpose in aligning himself with such cutthroats and thieves.

  Shouts filtered from above, sails roared, and the ship pitched to port with such violence that if Juliana hadn’t been holding the edge of the desk, she would have tumbled across the deck. Mr. Nash merely braced his feet farther apart.

  Her glance sped to the open door, and, no doubt surmising her zest for flight, he closed it and leaned back against the hard oak, arms over his chest.

  Though they were alone and the doctor was no slight man, she bore no fear of him. There was something very calming and gentle about him. Even good. If a pirate could be called so.

  “Alex is confused and a trifle lost, if you’ll allow,” he started, “but his heart is good. True, he steals, but never from his own countrymen. And it may surprise you to know he gives much of his plunder to those in need.”

  A vision of Lord Munthrope helping that poor widow and her child in town flashed through her cynical thoughts. “That the man is confused and lost, I will grant you, sir. For, to what purpose would a pirate risk his life for money he plans to give away?”

  “As I said, he is not like other pirates.” Mr. Nash glanced above, where Alex’s voice could be heard bellowing orders. “I must attend my duties. Rest assured, Miss Dutton, Alex will do you no harm. He is no ravager of women.” He winked playfully. “Especially those he’s quite taken with.”

  “Taken? Fie! He cares only for himself and his own pleasure.”

  “If that were true, you would be a maiden no longer.”

  The declaration brought heat racing up her neck. She pressed a hand on her embroidered stomacher. “Then, pray, what does he want with me?”

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” And with that, he left and shut the door.

  ♥♥♥

  Against every impulse within him, Alex decided ’twas best to stay away from Juliana as much as possible. They’d be in Port Royal by early morn, at which time he’d escort her safely home. After that, she’d most likely never want to see him again. Though he hardly blamed her, the thought sliced through his heart nonetheless, and he wondered what purpose there would be to his life afterward. In the meantime, having her in his cabin was driving him to distraction. Especially after their kiss, the remembrance of which had finally overpowered the pain of her kick afterward.

  The moon rose over a restless ebony sea, and Alex’s longing to see Juliana rose with it. He wanted to explain, make her understand the reasons behind his duplicitous behavior. But he wasn’t sure he could trust himself with her alone.

  How could he blame his crew for ogling her when she’d come on deck? With her golden hair loose and flowing about her bosom like waves on a creamy beach, her sparkling gown flouncing over the deck like a ballet dancer with each move of the ship, turquoise eyes so full of spark and life, and those pink lips and flushed cheeks, she was more beautiful than any treasure they’d plundered.

  Nay, ’twas best he stayed above at least until she fell asleep. Then he’d perch outside his cabin door alongside Bait, whom he’d already posted there to guard her. Together, they’d keep out all intruders. Even if that intruder was himself.

  Sails snapped as the ship dove into a trough. Foam leapt up the hull, reaching for Alex, no doubt intent on dragging him to the depths for treating a lady thus. To hi
s left, some of his crew huddled, passing a flagon of rum betwixt them. They nodded his way and offered him the bottle, but he declined with a heavy sigh. No doubt a drink would aid in loosening the knots that had formed in his gut, but it would also loosen the control that kept him away from the treasure below. Besides, he needed his wits about him. Not only because Juliana was on board but because there was something else afoot, some mischief he couldn’t quite place. The sooner they reached Port Royal, the better.

  A high-pitched squeal—or perchance a scream?—etched through the air. For just a second, and then it was gone. Probably the wind through the rigging. Alex glanced across the deck at his men drinking and playing cards, then above at those in the tops, then over to the pirate manning the whipstaff. No one else seemed to have heard. Jonas was no doubt below with his nose shoved in a medical journal.

  Alex faced the sea again as an overpowering uneasiness coiled up his spine.

  Go to her.

  He rubbed his forehead. Now he was hearing things. Mayhap he did need a drink after all. Gripping the railing, he closed his eyes and allowed a blast of wind to rip over him, hoping it would steal away his agitation. But it only made it worse. Finally, shoving from the bulwarks, he stormed up the quarterdeck, leapt down the companionway, and headed for his cabin. Just to ensure Juliana was safe. And then he’d leave her be. God help him.

  But the door was open, and Bait was lying on the deck, blood seeping from a knot on his head. Gripping the hilt of his sword, Alex rushed into the cabin. A barrage of lacy petticoats exploded from behind the form of a man shoving Juliana against the bulkhead.

  Rage lashed through Alex. He grabbed the man by his jerkin and flung him across the cabin. Juliana screamed. Larkin crashed against the sideboard, jarring the tea urn and dislodging a few books from the shelves. One landed on his head.

  Alex glanced at Juliana. Thank God her clothing was still in place. But her red-rimmed eyes stared at him in horror from a face as white as a virgin sail. Movement drew Alex’s gaze back to Larkin, who rose, bearing an insolent smirk. He raked hair from his face, his gray eyes flashing. “A captain is supposed to share his treasure,” he snarled.

  Alex approached the man, cautious of his every move, every twitch of his hands, the hatred—and hint of fear—burning in his eyes. Then drawing back, Alex fisted him across the jaw. Larkin’s head whipped around, spurting a stream of blood on the bulkhead before he crashed into Alex’s desk and thudded to the deck.

  “A captain’s treasure is not to be touched!”

  Jonas stormed in, Riggs on his heels, both men assessing the situation. “We heard a scream.”

  Alex shook his hand and gestured toward Larkin. “Take him below and lock him up. And see to Bait.”

  Riggs yanked Larkin up, while Jonas gave Alex a look of reprimand that only added to the guilt that was breaking through his rage.

  Wiping blood from his mouth, Larkin shot Alex a look that would have killed him if it had been armed. Instead it only wounded his heart. He’d once considered the man a friend. Had even trusted him.

  Jonas shut the door, leaving only the lap of waves and creak of wood filling the room. And the quiet sob of a lady. Not just any lady. His lady. His Juliana. If only it could be so.

  Slowly, he went to her. She raised her gaze to his, her chest heaving, her eyes pools of terror, her lips swollen where Larkin’s hand had held back her screams. Hesitant, cautiously, he reached for her hand. A tear slid down her cheek as she studied him, searching his eyes … for what? To see if she could trust him. How could he prove to her that he’d never hurt her?

  Finally, with a ragged sigh, she fell against him. He enfolded her in his embrace, wishing he could barricade her from all danger, all calamity—forever. She wept bitterly, this woman who was all strength and confidence and bravery and goodness. She finally wept, releasing all the terror and pressures and misfortunes of life on his shoulder. And he allowed her, relishing that he was the one chosen to give her comfort, to protect her.

  At least for this moment.

  He rubbed her back and ran fingers through her hair, uttering comforting words, trying to squelch his guilt at having allowed this nightmare to happen. The ship swayed back and forth like a cradle, gently rocking them as lantern light from the deckhead washed them in waves of dark and light. She clung to him. Desperately, completely. Like he’d always longed for her to do. To rely on him, to trust him, to allow him to care for her.

  Finally, her sobbing transformed to hiccups and then into deep sighs, and, much to his dismay, she shoved back from him. “Forgive me. I am not one normally prone to such bouts of sobbing.” Lashes laden with teary diamonds fanned over her cheeks.

  “Mayhap you should allow yourself the luxury more often.” Placing a finger beneath her chin, he raised her gaze to his. “As you can see, I am in possession of a solid shoulder.”

  She gave a little smile, stepped back, and hugged herself. A tremble shook her. Taking her hand, he led her to a chair and knelt beside her. “Can I get you something to drink? Wine, mayhap? A sip of port for your nerves?”

  She hesitated and glanced over the cabin.

  “You won’t go to hell, milady, for a sip of port.”

  She nodded her assent and he leapt up, poured her a glass, and returned.

  “Can you ever forgive me, Juliana? I thought you were safe. I placed my master gunner at the door, and only Jonas and I have keys.” He lowered his chin. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.” He rose, clenching his fists, longing to punch something, if only to spend his anger. Anger at himself.

  She said nothing, only stared out the stern windows into the dark void of the sea.

  “I am a fool,” he fumed, silently cursing himself. “I put you in danger, when all I ever wanted was to protect you. Thank God you are unscathed.”

  Moments passed.

  “I thought you didn’t believe in God,” she finally said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

  Alex leaned back against his desk and rubbed the sides of his mouth. “I heard … up on the deck … I heard someone say ‘go to her.’” He squeezed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “It sounds crazy.”

  Tears filled Juliana’s eyes once again. “Nay. ’Twas God. Saving me from being ravished.” Though her words were firm, doubt clouded her expression as another tear spilled down her cheek. Alex searched his desk for the cleanest neckerchief he could find and handed it to her.

  “’Tis the first kind thing God has done for me in a long time.” She dabbed her cheeks.

  “Mayhap ’twas not God but merely my own intuition.” It had to be. For surely God would not waste time speaking to him.

  “Intuition doesn’t speak,” she countered, lifting the trembling glass of port to her lips. “Perchance I have finally done enough good to win His favor.” The thought seemed to please her as her shoulders lowered and a sigh escaped her lips.

  Alex snorted. “If someone as good and kind as you must work so hard for God’s blessing, then I stand no chance with him.” Yet even as he said the words, he knew how contrary they were to Scripture. He’d spent years studying the Bible before his father had sent him to this hellish British outpost. “To save lost souls,” he had admonished Alex.

  Instead Alex had joined them.

  Juliana tightened her lips, a tinge of anger hardening her eyes. “You are correct. There is no chance with God for a thieving pirate, a liar, and a man who kidnaps women.”

  The cut sliced deep into Alex’s soul. When she said it like that—with such disgust—it made him sound downright evil. “Alas, I am truly sorry for that last one.” He poured himself a drink. With his rising guilt and all this God-talk, he was going to need it. She was wrong about the Almighty. And Alex couldn’t stand the thought that her error would cause her to turn her back on God like he’d done. She was too pure, too innocent and good to end up like him—empty and lost.

  So, he spoke the words of a holy book he no longer believed in. “You are mistaken about G
od, milady. You need not win his blessings. You can’t win his blessings. You must simply believe in him and walk with him.”

  She stared at him quizzically. “Have a care, Mr. Pirate, you sound more like a preacher than a plunderer.”

  He wouldn’t tell her he used to be just that. Before God showed him it did no good to serve him, to live imprisoned by his rules.

  “You are an enigma, Mr. Pirate.”

  “Please call me Alex.”

  “Not Milord Pirate?” She teased him with her eyes before a frown formed. “You speak of a God’s blessing whose existence you deny. And you hear a voice from the same God and immediately obey.”

  “If it was God I heard, He only spoke to me for your sake, milady.”

  “It would thrill me to believe that.” She swallowed. “Yet with all the disasters that have stricken me and my family of late, I can only assume I have not pleased him. What could I be doing wrong?” She lifted questioning eyes to him as if he had the answer. Eyes swimming in tears and desperation, just like a similar pair of brown eyes from a young lad who had asked a similar question four years ago. Lud, did he have the word preacher emblazoned on his forehead? Who was he to explain the workings of a distant God?

  He shrugged. He had given the expected platitude to the young orphan at the time, but it had turned out to be false. He had no answer now. Wanting to change the topic, he spotted the book that had struck Larkin now lying open on the deck. He knew the minute he picked it up what book it was—his father’s Bible. He set it on the desk, not wanting to see the page it had opened to but unable to pull his eyes away. They landed on the last verse of Isaiah 48:

  There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh that such a prophetic verse had struck Larkin or weep at how much it reflected Alex’s own life. For he’d had no peace since he’d forsaken God and plunged into a sea of debauchery and dissipation.

  He faced Juliana again, trying to hide his discomfort.

  She said nothing and took another sip of her wine. It caused a flush to blossom on her cheeks, making her all the more alluring, if that was possible. Even in her wrinkled gown and bedraggled stomacher. Even with a rent in one sleeve and the silk fringe circling her neckline frayed. Even with her lips swollen and her turquoise eyes swimming. Not to mention her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders. He remembered the feel of those silken threads in his hand only moments ago, and he swallowed his rising desire.