The Jezebel

by Saskia Walker

  Staggering up the rungs, she rubbed her sore wrists and then felt her way with her hands. Fresh air reached her. Blinking in the bright light as she emerged, she found all hands were on deck, and yet an eerie silence encompassed them. Scanning the small crowd, she quickly sought out Roderick’s familiar face amongst the gathered men, and saw immense concern creasing his brow.

  Then she looked beyond him, and what she saw made her gasp aloud.

  Even though she’d been told about the navy ships, she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of them. A great array of masts on one side of the Libertas. Glancing around her, she saw that the three much larger navy vessels caged them in, with the coastline on their free side. As she scanned the closest ship she caught sight of uniformed men with raised weapons. Stepping closer to the railing, she saw that many cannons were pointed in their direction, too.

  Roderick came to her side.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “They haven’t mentioned your magic,” he said quietly. “They have come to escort you back to your guardian.” He put his hand on her upper arm, gently embracing it. “If you go with them you’ll be safer than with my men. But if you don’t think you can outwit them and escape your persecutor in London, say the word and I will put up a fight to keep you.”

  He knew. He’d unraveled the puzzle. Maisie looked into his eyes, saw his determination, and her heart nearly broke. “Roderick, I am no expert in such matters, but even I can see you would stand little chance against three much larger ships with their cannons trained on you. Your offer is kindly appreciated, but do not concern yourself. I will go with them. I will find my way to the Highlands, somehow. As you know, I am set on doing so.”

  Tension was building around them, and an impatient voice called out, requesting information.

  Roderick’s grip on her arm tightened. “Promise you will do that...and that you will protect yourself with your magic.”

  She nodded.

  “If you need me, I believe I would know.”

  “I believe you would.” She smiled at him. “Let me go and all will be well on the Libertas once more.”

  Roderick stared at her with blazing eyes, the breeze lifting his hair. Studying him for a moment, Maisie absorbed the precious memory, then turned away quickly.

  Clyde gestured to her. A rope ladder had been rolled over the side in preparation for her departure. She nodded and accepted his hand in guidance.

  Two rowboats waited below. The one beneath the ladder carried two men, one at each oar. The other held seven men, four of them with their weapons trained on the spot where she stood. Another man was standing, presumably the officer.

  Maisie lifted her hand, acknowledging them.

  “Thank you,” she said to Clyde.

  “Hold tight to the ropes...and to the song in your heart,” he replied.

  Maisie nodded. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them back.

  She grasped the rope, took a deep breath and clambered over the railing. Holding tight to the ladder, she waited until it stopped swinging about, then found her footing. The climb down was treacherous, but Maisie scarcely thought about how dangerous it was, and acted on instinct, for her mind was elsewhere.

  The men who waited assisted her on the final rungs and encouraged her to take a seat at the head of the boat.

  “Escort the lady back to the ship.” It was the officer in the other boat who issued the command.

  The two men began to row determinedly.

  The boat laden with armed men remained.

  Maisie stared wretchedly at the water for most of the journey across, and then it occurred to her. Cyrus.

  Lifting her head, she looked up at the ship they approached. There he was, at the railing, staring down at her.

  He’d come. He’d come himself, to recapture her.

  Dread filled her and the urge to fling herself into the water and swim to land was great. But how far would she get with these men in pursuit?

  Must reach my kin. Must keep my wits about me.

  What could she do? There was only one option—to handle Cyrus by means of magic. She would have to convince him she was glad to be reunited with him. She had never dared—never believed she could—for his knowledge was so great she was afraid he would recognize it in her. But these past few days away from him had changed her immensely, and she was no longer young Margaret, indebted to him. She was a woman, and a witch empowered, because of the time she’d spent with Roderick. Her captain had given her the strength, she was sure of it. She would manage Cyrus until they were well away from this place and Roderick and his men were safe and free. Only then would she find a means to escape once again.

  They were closing on the navy ship, where another ladder awaited her.

  Then she heard a voice from behind her, and realized that the naval officer who’d stayed behind on the other rowboat was issuing instructions to the crew of the Libertas once again.

  “As you have handed over the young lady, a charge of kidnap will not be raised. However, you will forfeit your ship as recompense for previous misdemeanors and avoidance of taxes and excise duties. The Libertas will be commandeered by the Royal Navy of Great Britain for the service of His Majesty King George.”

  Maisie jerked her head around and looked back.

  Her hand went to her chest. How could they take his ship?

  “Any man who wishes to stay aboard will be offered gainful employment as a member of the king’s navy. Those who wish to stand by your captain are urged to lower your rowboats and depart the vessel forthwith.”

  “And if we do not agree?” It was Roderick’s voice, and it tugged on her heartstrings.

  “There are currently eighteen cannons manned, loaded and pointed in your direction, Captain Cameron. They will be discharged if you do not abandon your ship immediately.”

  Maisie listened, horrified.

  “Your ship and all its crew will perish.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Cyrus craned his neck, trying to catch sight of Margaret’s face.

  All around him, orders were being issued and instructions shouted, but Cyrus Lafayette could do nothing but watch as the rowboat carrying his precious cargo came closer. His mood had been black for the past several days, and frantic. Now a deadly seriousness had come upon him. He would not settle until he knew the reasons for this. Could it be that she had truly been kidnapped? If it was true, he found it hard to believe that she could not outwit and escape her captors by magic. No, she must have instigated this. He would much prefer to think she had been led astray, or followed someone’s advice on a whim.

  Just then she lifted her head and looked up at him.

  Cyrus stared down at her. She did not wave, and he could not read her expression. His fingers dug tightly into the wooden rail beneath his hands. She looked away. The rowboat had pulled alongside the ship and the two oarsmen held the boat steady while Margaret stood up and mounted the rope ladder.

  The captain appeared at his side. “Master Lafayette, if you would step back, I will assist the young lady to climb aboard. I need to ascertain her state of well-being before I decide whether further action needs to be taken on Captain Cameron.” The captain patted the pistol that hung from his belt. He smiled, as if he anticipated the prospect.

  That suited Cyrus. He nodded and stepped back, allowing the captain to stand by as Margaret climbed up to the railing. Two of the lower ranking men all but pulled her over it, setting her on her feet. She thanked them, but then looked back at the Libertas.

  “Miss Lafayette, I am Captain Plimpton of the British navy. Welcome aboard. May I ask if you have come to any harm during your time on the ship known as the Libertas?”

  “Harm?” She looked at the captain and seemed bewildered.

  Cyrus’s suspicion grew. She was avoiding his eyes.

  “Forgive me for being indelicate, but I must ask. Did they hurt you or...defile you in any way?” Plimpton pulled the pistol from his belt.

&n
bsp; Margaret stared at the captain as if distressed.

  “Point out the man who defiled you and I will finish him.” He pointed his pistol at the crew of the Libertas climbing down to the rowboats beyond.

  “No, Captain. None of those men hurt me.”

  Plimpton nodded. “Well, it seems we’ll have no further sport from this one.” He sighed. “What a pity.”

  Cyrus wanted him to blow the lot of them out of the water and have done with it, but before he had a chance to offer his opinion, Margaret spoke.

  “Captain, is it your intention to carry out the threat to...make them all perish?”

  The captain chortled. “If they haven’t harmed you there is no absolute need to do so. Unless you would prefer I did?”

  She shook her head vigorously.

  Cyrus’s mood turned sour. She wished to protect those brigands. “Margaret?”

  What struck him most when she finally turned his way was her beauty, which seemed strangely enhanced out here in the wild ocean breeze with her hair flying free and her eyes wide and bright. She looked pale and tired, though, and her gown was damaged and torn in several places. She had no belongings with her. The foolish woman. Cyrus wanted to drag her below deck and berate her.

  She closed her eyes a moment, and when she opened them she broke into a weak smile. “Cyrus, you are here.”

  “Of course I am here,” he said with barely concealed anger. “You are mine and I will not suffer you or your precious...talents being squandered.”

  Her eyes flickered with fear. She was still terrified of being exposed as what she was. Cyrus smiled. That pleased him greatly. He could work with that to keep her more strongly in check. As he approached, she held out her hands, beckoning him to her.

  Cyrus cocked his head, trying to understand her actions. He’d expected her to reject him if she had run away, or fling herself at him if she had been kidnapped. However, she took his hands in her own, staring into his eyes as he joined her.

  “You must tell the captain if there is any cause for concern.”

  She held his hands tighter still. “Cyrus, no, I was not harmed, as I have already told him.”

  She gave the captain a sidelong glance. There was a fretful look in her eyes and she kept peering back over her shoulder. She seemed restless or confused, and she whispered some words in Gaelic or Pictish, he was sure of it, but for some reason they were swept away on the wind. He was about to quiz her when his mood softened. It didn’t matter, because she was there and he was holding her. The very sight of her...it was pure and simple delirium to have her back after these days of rage and hardship.

  Again she spoke, but he could not catch what she said.

  Why did she keep looking at the Libertas? Cyrus followed her gaze and saw that the men from the ship were now clambering down nets into rowboats. There were some thirty of them, and they were watched over by one of the navy officers. Why did she seem so fretful? The question echoed in Cyrus’s mind, but he found it hard to voice it. Had some rogue frightened her, or worse still, stolen her virginity from him?

  Captain Plimpton looked at Cyrus and frowned. “Are you quite well, Master Lafayette?”

  In the distance, the sound of men jeering at the navy reached them.

  Margaret pulled her hands free of his and ran to the railing.

  What horror was this? Cyrus stared at her back and the joy he’d felt a moment before fast dissipated. Instead, he grew angry. Had one of those men befriended her? Worse still, become aware of her powers? A seething jealousy bit into him. Stepping over to the captain, he reached out and took the lowered pistol from his hand. Striding to the railing, he trained it on the man who stood up in one rowboat, watching Margaret through a spyglass.

  “Master Lafayette, you surprise me,” the navy captain stated in an amused drawl. “I take it you still seek recompense?”

  “I would be much happier if you had rid the seas of all such vermin as soon as we had my ward safely aboard,” Cyrus muttered. “However, I will take the task upon myself.” He cocked the pistol.

  Margaret was at his side instantly, attempting to halt him. “Cyrus, no!”

  Cyrus did not look away from his target. “Surely you wish to be rid of them, my dear?”

  The distress she showed in reaction to that was palpable, and made Cyrus grate his teeth.

  “I am rid of them,” she responded, but her voice wavered wildly and he knew she was hiding something from him.

  He rounded on her, searching her face for the truth. “And you are glad?”

  She nodded.

  “Prove it,” he said. “Take a man down yourself, the one who watches you so eagerly through his spyglass.”

  Her eyes blazed. “I do not have it in me to kill a man, Cyrus. You know that.”

  “Prove it to me, and it will make amends for all of this. You are a good shot. I trained you myself.”

  After a long moment of silent consideration, she reached out, hand shaking, and took the gun from him.

  “Rest assured, my dear, if you miss your target, I will take the pistol back and make sure the man never breathes again.”

  Margaret swayed unsteadily and closed her eyes for a moment.

  The captain laughed. “I had not realized you relished a good game, Master Lafayette. This is most entertaining.”

  Margaret looked from one to the other of them, and Cyrus knew she was shocked. Her intelligent eyes were bright, her hair whipping up in the breeze, making her look every bit the wild witch he had plucked from the Lowlands to keep as his own.

  “I will not miss,” she replied, and stepped toward the railing, both hands outstretched, holding the weapon. She whispered something beneath her breath. Cyrus had the suspicion she was making magic. However, without a further moment’s hesitation, the shot rang out.

  Ah, yes, my precious witch is mine, all mine. Cyrus felt a sense of calm descend upon him. He watched as the man who had stood watching her from the rowboat crumpled to the floor, a dark stain spreading across his coat at the shoulder. Cyrus smiled.

  Margaret’s arms lowered. She turned to face them, offering the captain back the gun as she did so. When she drew closer, she lifted her chin and looked deep into Cyrus’s eyes.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered, and gave a tremulous smile. “I am mightily relieved to be reunited with you.” With that, she embraced him. She said something in Gaelic. He barely caught the words, but knew it was a term of affection, of love, of forgiveness.

  Nothing mattered now. All he cared about was that she had come back to him, and he believed her. Eyelids lowering, Cyrus savored her warmth, and the fact that she was so willing to be in his arms.

  * * *

  At first Cyrus had bristled with tension, as he if sensed her making magic. Then he fell under her spell. Did he know what she’d done? She looked up at him.

  A confused frown marked his forehead. Her magic had indeed worked on him, but he was fighting it all the while. She would have to work harder, but now that the anchors had been lifted and distance was growing between her and Roderick, she could apply her full attention to the task at hand.

  Inside, she was reeling. Everything had happened so quickly that she could scarcely take it all in. She was shaking, nauseous and dizzy from what she’d had to do to protect Roderick. The discovery that he and his men had lost their ship to the navy had caused her so much distress that she couldn’t keep her thoughts and emotions straight long enough to create the magic to hold Cyrus in check. That had to be her priority—to rouse a whiff more magic to confuse his mind and emotions. That should keep him from taking further action against Roderick and his men. A show of affection toward Cyrus aided her task, although that was even harder to muster and sustain.

  “Why did you run away?” he asked. “Was it something Beth said to you?”

  Maisie shook her head, not willing to implicate Mama Beth.

  Cyrus pursued the subject. “She was a sick woman and her ramblings were borne of jealousy, of fe
ar for her own destiny, that is all.”

  Was. A cold hand clutched Maisie’s heart.

  “She knew we’d grown close,” he murmured, meandering along, pacified as he was. “She knew my deep affection for you.”

  “Beth has passed on?”

  He gave her a brief nod. Maisie’s mind whirred furiously, her grief over Beth and the fact she was still shaking from the action she’d been forced to take moments earlier made it hard for her to concentrate on her magic long enough to quell him.

  “Nothing will keep us from being together now. We will be married as soon as we return to London. Together we will be powerful. But I must know why you ran from me.”

  “I did not run from you.” Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she knew she had to reassure him. He would have Roderick and all his men killed if she did not dissuade him. The fact she had shot Roderick herself was not enough. “I will explain.”

  With one hand clasped around her jaw, Cyrus defied her to look away. His eyes narrowed, his lips curling. “You will never run again, that is certain. I will make sure of it.” His tone was sinister and possessive, and his gaze dropped to her bosom. “Once we are wed you will be mine completely.”

  It was obvious to Maisie how deep his feelings ran. Much deeper than she had even suspected. His desire—both for her power and for her as a woman—had grown more obvious these past months, but never had she felt the depth of his lust for her. The look in his eyes was clear. He wanted her as a lover, as a wife.

  It terrified her to even contemplate. She didn’t want him. Never had and never would. It pained her, too, because it felt so wrong of him, so misguided. She felt cheated by his trickery. Just as she had been when she’d begun to realize he wanted her power to serve his own ends. It had disturbed her greatly, but the latest revelation in his plans was even more shocking to her, and there was no denying it now. Beth had been right. He feared losing her and he planned to own her in every way. It felt like betrayal. Well, they had betrayed each other, in that case, but she must keep his attention on her until Roderick was safely gone.

  She forced the words out. “I had to return to my beginnings to see the place I was born, in order for my magic to blossom fully. It came upon me as a yearning so strong and so sudden, it had to be. On a whim I went down to the dockyard and asked about passage to Scotland. I was dizzy with the desire to see the place again when I was offered the chance.”