China Rose

by Canham, Marsha

  "We will, Mr. East," China agreed. "And I am sorry to be such a bother to you. I would have liked to stay behind as well, but it seems I have no choice."

  "We be in accord there," he growled. "Fine thing when a man 'as to act as nursemaid instead of standin' alongside 'is mates when they're in a pinch."

  China glanced down at the tree trunk that was Mr. East's thigh. The bandaging was stained with dried blood and try as he might, he could not entirely conceal the limp.

  He followed her gaze and scowled. "A scratch. But he's the cap'n and I follow 'is orders, cause that's what 'ee expects me to do."

  "Just as we will follow your orders," China nodded with a sigh. "Whether we like them or not."

  His eyebrows crushed together and the sinews in his jaw flexed. "Right then. Falmouth is a five, six hour ride. I've three of the fastest horses I could steal and we'll not be stopping if we can 'elp it, so if ye need to piss do it now or do it in the saddle. The moon is out full an' with a bit o' luck we'll reach port before dawn an' be there to greet the cap'n when he arrives."

  "He will never make it...and neither will you."

  China gasped as the door swung wide open. Sir Ranulf Cross stood there, flanked by three men with pistols. East spun around but he was too late. One of the men stretched an arm forward, cocking his pistol as he did so.

  "Mr. East no!" China cried, but she was too late as well. She heard the snap of the firing pin, saw the powder ignite, and flinched as the gun fired, catching East high on the chest and spinning him around so that he landed face down over the bed. His hands clawed at the blanket for a moment and a sound unlike anything China had ever heard came from his throat. Then he went still, his big body sliding slowly off the side of the bed to land heavily on the floor.

  Tina was screaming.

  China flung herself across the room, her hands outstretched, fingers shaped into claws as they raked for Ranulf's face. He sidestepped the attack easily, then watched her go down as her ankle failed and sent her sprawling to her knees at his feet.

  "Such a warm welcome," he murmured. "And after all the trouble I've taken to rescue you."

  "Rescue me? I did not need rescuing and you know it," China cried.

  "I only know I left you at home in our bridal chamber, and now I find you here, in this filthy place, with a dangerous stranger and--" he glanced at Tina-- "his accomplice."

  "Leave Tina out of this, she had nothing to do with anything that happened tonight. As for what I am doing here, I came willingly, and by choice."

  Ranulf turned cold eyes to her. "It hardly matters. You are still my wife and I have come to take you home."

  "How did you find me?"

  "Apart from the fact that I assumed you might try something foolish, Informers are as thick as rats along the waterfront. If the reward is great enough--and in this case I assure you it was--the scum along the docks would hand over their own mothers."

  China dragged herself painfully to her feet. Her only thought now was that if Ranulf was here, he was not at the dock and Justin might have a chance to...

  He chuckled cruelly as he observed her expression. "You really are most charmingly naive, my dear. I know where Justin is and what he is attempting to do. I also happen to know he hasn't a prayer of succeeding. I have sent Chambers to the slave ship with two score stout, armed men with orders to remain out of sight until the 'attackers' are on board and confident they have met with no resistance. A sadly underestimated man in his own right, is Chambers. I have promised him five thousand pounds for the capture of Captain Jason Savage, a thousand more for his crew."

  "You are despicable," she said with genuine loathing.

  "And you, my dear--" he stepped closer and reached out to touch her cheek where his ring had sliced her earlier. China flinched back, jolting her ankle yet again as she did so. He glanced down at the tight wrappings. "You seem to be the worse for wear tonight."

  "Do you really care?"

  "No. Not really."

  China felt the shock and exhaustion take a final toll from her body. She tasted defeat, bitter and salty, at the back of her throat, as well as the futility of fighting him any longer. Her eyes burned and she bowed her head so that she would not have to see the look of smug triumph on Ranulf's face.

  "Come along, Lady Cross," he said, grasping her arm. "The air in here grows oppressive."

  China could not offer up much fight as he dragged her to the door. She glanced over at Tina, left cowering in the corner, then to the sprawled body of Bartholomew East. Her eyes blurred with tears and she did not see the sullen, glowering faces of the men in the tavern, now herded against a wall and guarded by one of Ranulf's thugs. Her every thought, her despair was for Justin. For the fate he rushed out so recklessly to meet.

  She was manhandled roughly into the waiting coach and sat with her face turned to the window as Ranulf climbed aboard and sat opposite her. The night air was cold and damp, swirling in as the coach pulled away from the tavern. The smell of the sea was so strong she imagined it to be just beyond the next row of low warehouses, and she recalled vividly the previous late-night race through the narrow streets to the wharf. She had been with Justin and Ted Bates, and she had made a choice in the drenching rain that had carried her so far off course she had thought there would be no turning back. Did she regret that choice? No, not for one moment. Even if she searched the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart and soul would she find a single shred of regret. She had spent one glorious night in the arms of Justin Cross. She had lain with him and held him and been held and loved and nothing could ever take that away from her. Nothing and no one.

  She stared cold and dry-eyed at the man who was her husband. He had been watching her face and he saw her resolve as clearly as if it had been etched into her features.

  His hands tightened on the ebony walking stick that was propped between his knees. "So you still regard him as the hero, do you?"

  "He is more of a man than you will ever be," she said quietly.

  A snarl had him lift the cane suddenly and rap it sharply on the driver's box. The trap slid open and he issued crisp orders to the driver. Almost instantly, the coach lurched into a turn that had China's stomach and thigh muscles clenching to keep her from being hurled off the bench.

  "I think you need to see with your own eyes what has become of your lover. You hold an image in your eye of him being so manly and heroic? Perhaps I can provide you with a more truthful memory to carry forward with you unto eternity."

  The turn was completed and the coach settled to a steady, fast pace that took them back toward the harbor. Ranulf's face was once again a visage of pure hatred and China would have cringed from it had she realized a portion of it was directed at her. But her own thoughts were spinning faster than the coach wheels, speeding her far ahead to the docks and Justin.

  It seemed to take twice as long to reach the harbor as it had to leave the inn. There was a squat, ugly vessel moored alongside the dock, newly arrived by the look of it. Lanterns were strung on the rigging and a huge winch was lifting nets out of the cargo hold filled with large wooden crates.

  Further out were a dozen or more ships in the bay, their riding lights twinkling, mirrored on the surface of the water. The sky had cleared completely and the moon was bright. Dreadfully bright, China realized with a pang. Any movement between ships or between a ship and shore would stand out like a beacon.

  She was not familiar enough with the size and shape of the Reunion to pick her out of the ships rocking gently at anchor, but she searched each distant silhouette as if Justin's mere presence on board would cause one to stand apart from the others.

  Two militiamen detached themselves from the crowd milling around on the dock as Ranulf stepped down from the coach. After a few minutes of conversation, China watched one them carry a lantern to the end of the wharf and raise a thin metal shield up and down a few times on the side of the lamp. He repeated the signal twice and, far out in the harbor, a similar blinking ligh
t answered.

  A loud and raucous burst of laughter followed by the pop of gunfire startled China's attention away from the Reunion. The crew of the cargo ship were making enough noise to have masked any sound of a struggle on board a ship out in the harbor.

  Ranulf returned to the carriage, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

  "As expected, Justin has attempted to board the Reunion...and failed. My men inform me his entire crew has surrendered alongside their valiant captain."

  "No," China whispered, her gaze seeking the Reunion again. "Oh no."

  "Oh yes, my dear. You find it hard to believe? You think him too noble and intractable to be beaten down like a dog? Perhaps your last memory should be as he stands now: defeated and pleading for mercy."

  Ranulf called angrily for a longboat and oarsmen. He dragged China unceremoniously out of the coach and across the wharf, then handed her into the custody of the two thugs who had accompanied them from the tavern. With their hands groping and brushing lewdly against her, they manhandled her into the waiting skiff and sat with her squeezed tightly between them.

  China was determined to keep a tight rein on her anger as well as her fear. She was frightened for Justin, frightened at what her reaction might be at seeing him as Ranulf's prisoner again. And she was angry...very nearly enraged at Ranulf's smug arrogance. Compared to Justin, he was nothing; a shallow, callous shell of a man and China could scarcely believe they came from the same womb.

  The longboat cut cleanly across the harbor. The only sound came from the rhythmic dip and drag of the oars and the rushing of the water beneath the keel. Even the noises from the cargo ship faded and were gradually left behind. Ahead, the Reunion stood tall and proud against the night sky, surrounded by thin wisps of evening mist rising off the water. Her cannon ports were open, revealing eight black iron snouts. As the waves rolled in from the Channel, she rocked and tugged against her anchor as if impatient to break away into open water again.

  Closer to the hull, China could see growing evidence that a struggle had recently taken place on her decks. Lines were down, rigging was torn and what she had first mistaken as mist proved to be smoke drifting from the open gunports. The smell of charred canvas grew stronger with each dip of the oars, and as the longboat bumped to a halt at the base of the ladderway, she could hear the groans and cries from injured men.

  High above, two heads appeared over the rails.

  "Chambers?" Ranulf called up.

  "Nay, Sir. He's with the surgeon. Took a shot in the foot."

  "And Captain Savage?" Ranulf was up the ladder and through the open gangway before he heard the answer.

  The man grinned and tugged a forelock. "They 'ave 'im at the fo'c'sle. All trussed up nice and tight for ye, Sar."

  Ranulf straightened his coat and brushed off his sleeve. "Did he give you much trouble?"

  "Some. We lost a few, he lost a few."

  "Fought like bloody devils, they did," the second man said, thumping his comrade on the arm. "Like bloody devils, screamin' and hollerin' an' not givin' quarter lightly."

  China appeared at the gangway and Ranulf reached back to take her arm. He pulled her alongside him as he strode toward the forecastle deck, slowing only when the huddled group of crewmen came into sight surrounded by an armed ring of Ranulf's men. Most were covered head to toe with grime and blood and sweat. The smell of their defeat was almost as pungent as that of the scorched canvas.

  The men guarding them were comprised of a mix of Ranulf's men, militia, and excise men who, China suspected, were only too happy to throw their lot in with those wanting to put an end to Captain Jason Savage. They all held pistols or muskets, most seemed unable to keep a victorious smirk off their faces.

  To one side, under the heaviest guard, was Justin Cross. His dark blond hair was nearly black from sweat and grime. He had knotted a kerchief around his forehead to keep the sweat from running into his eyes, but it was being used as a bandage to staunch the flow of blood from a cut on his temple. His hands were bound together with rope. His head was bowed, but as Ranulf drew closer, his gaze rose from the planking to settle on his brother's face.

  "Well, well, well," Ranulf murmured. "Lo and behold, the vaunted Captain Jason Savage. At long last we meet, although I must say I can see why you have been so reluctant in the past."

  Justin said nothing. His eyes, which had flared briefly in surprise and alarm when he had seen China being dragged along at Ranulf's side, were now blank again, devoid of any emotion.

  "I would have been happy to engage you, Justin," Ranulf said slowly. "Just the two of us, man to man. But no. You had to play out your foolish little charade to the bitter end. Where did it get you? Look around, Captain. How do you think your men feel about you now?"

  Justin's mouth pressed into a thinner line but he remained silent.

  "Stubborn to the end, I see. Your plotting and scheming appears to have turned table on you, however. Exactly how far did you think you could push me?"

  "As far as it took," Justin said quietly.

  Ranulf's mouth tightened. "So it was you all along. You were behind the letters. You admit to attempting to blackmail me?"

  "I knew as much as you did about the Orion and what she carried."

  "And you tried to buy my ruination with that knowledge?"

  "No." Justin shook his head. "In the beginning I only wanted answers. Or maybe I felt cheated because the ones that were thrown in my face just didn't make sense."

  "None of it made sense," Ranulf snarled. "You should have let it alone. You should have left him at the bottom of the ocean where he belonged. Look at this--" he spread his hands wide. "Is this how a family buries its' past?"

  "A damned good captain had to die in disgrace so that a handful of desperate men could keep their secrets to themselves," Justin said quietly. "Trimbel should have been praised for the service he did his country, not sentenced to die in prison by men too powerful, too greedy, too blinded by ignorance for their own good. Men like you, Ranulf."

  "Blinded, was I?" Ranulf balled his fists. "Indeed I was. By rage and anger and disgust for a man who could throw away his name and his family's good name for an ideal and a handful of insane romantics. But I can see why you would rise to his defense. You are so much like the man, it sickens me. You sailed away on your slaveship with no thought of the repercussions to the family or to the Cross name. I, on the other hand, have done everything I could to restore this family's fortunes, to bring the name back into prominence and raised it to its proper standing in society. I did it all on my own and by God you'll not do anything to spoil it for me now."

  "I have never had ambitions to spoil anything for you, Ran. I would have been content to find my peace elsewhere, but you just wouldn't let it alone. And you were looking to the wrong quarter all along for the man with ambitions. It was Eugene you should have been watching."

  "Eugene? What are you talking about? What does that buffoon have to do with any of this?"

  "Everything. He had us both out-maneuvered, out-guessed, and out-smarted from the beginning. He was the one who found Father's papers. He was the one who gave me just enough to stir my curiosity, then turned around and used them to blackmail you. He did a fine job of keeping us at each other's throats. We never really stood a chance."

  "What the devil are you talking about?"

  "He was the one bleeding you dry all these years, not me," Justin said on a sigh. "All these years and you never once guessed it could be him. I didn't either, and there's the greater pity, but you were too quick to blame me and I...well, I was just as much at fault for being pig-headed. Maybe if we had figured it out sooner we might have avoided all of this senseless bloodshed. It is too late for that now, though, isn't it? Too late for either of us, or for poor Bessy. And too late for my crew."

  Ranulf tensed perceptibly. Justin noted the change, noted the quick flicker of misgiving in his brother's eyes, and he shook his head.

  "It took me a long while to catch on
to what was happening. It only struck me a few months ago that they were dying off at an alarming rate. My men, Ranulf. Innocent men. Jason Savage's men...one by one, almost the entire crew of the Scorpio."

  "I...don't know what you are talking about. You have a crew."

  "I have a crew, yes. A damned good crew, no thanks to you. But eighteen of them are new in the past six years."

  Ranulf glanced at the sullen faces huddled against the rail. "You lead a dangerous life. Tragedies are a daily occurrence."

  "I call it a tragedy when a good man falls overboard in a storm. I call it bad luck when a coach hits him in the street. I call it murder when he dies of food poisoning...as Jason Savage did...or a knife in the back, or a shot in a dark alleyway. Six years of it, Ranulf, each time we were in port. Wasn't that about the same time you started getting blackmailed?"

  "Are you trying to imply the two are connected in some way? If so, then you're as mad as Eugene."

  "And yet you knew."

  "What did I know? What did I know or even care about your damned crew?"

  "Exactly what I asked myself this time around the whirly-gig: How did you know?"

  Ranulf hesitated. "What?"

  "How did you know? The other day in the library, when you threw me out and told me to warn Jason Savage that the games were over, you said there were only three of them left and that you did not need a second rap on the head to know Savage was responsible. There are only three original crewmembers left from the Scorpio: Ted Bates, Bart East...and the ghost of Jason Savage. How did you know that?"

  "I have heard quite enough," Ranulf said angrily. "You are grasping for a lifeline, for a way to stall and save your neck from going into a noose."

  "My neck is not the one going into a noose."

  "You killed the girl! You beat her to death, probably because she threatened to come to me and tell me you were Jason Savage."

  Justin shook his head. "Eugene beat her to death. He beat her and laid the blame on me so that I would be out of his way. I strongly doubt he planned to let you live much longer after the wedding. He might have waited a month or so to ensure all the finances had been transferred properly, but then he would have removed you too. He panicked tonight because he heard I'd escaped. Maybe he thought I had figured it all out, or that I was getting close and it was only a matter of fitting a few more of the puzzle pieces together." He looked at China directly for the first time and his voice softened. "Or maybe he saw that China was no longer a willing participant in the marriage and thought I was going to cheat him out of everything."