Jake scowled a warning at him. “On your feet, boy!” he sang, swatting the lad with the kerchief. “I’ll not tell you again.”
Fez blinked and shot to his feet. “Er, aye, m’lord. Right away, m’lord.”
“Here’s the key. Is the carriage out front?”
The lad’s mouth twitched slightly. “It is m’lord, aye. Ready and waiting.”
“Good, good. Off you go then, and don’t dawdle.” Jake then turned and flapped the kerchief at Harry, who actually had the makings of a smile on his face. “The room was adequate in a pinch, Innkeeper. My thanks.”
Harry sniffed and winked. “Glad to be of service, yer lordship.”
Jake feigned a snooty expression, put on his best swagger and flounced out of the door. He cast a surreptitious glance at Burgess as he left, relieved to see that the man’s focus remained on the stairs. The fellow had to be getting suspicious, however. It had been at least twenty minutes since Jake had first walked in with Amy.
He clambered aboard the awaiting carriage, which had magically changed horses and acquired an authentic looking crest on its doors.
“Quinn, you’re a dead man,” he muttered, pulling the wig off. “Fez, move your skinny arse. We need to get out of here.”
A couple of long minutes later, the lad came through the door with the valise balanced on his shoulder.
“Well done, lad,” Jake said, pulling the bag into the carriage.
Fez gave a nod and clambered aboard. “I passed yer friend on the stairs, Cap’n, lookin’ none too ’appy.”
Shite. Jake closed his mind against the scenario about to play out and banged on the ceiling. “Let’s go!”
* * *
After Jake left, Amy stood and stared at the door for a while, a little voice deep inside pleading for him to come back. Every now and then, she touched her lips, which still tingled from his kiss. Other parts of her tingled as well; her breasts, the intimate place between her thighs. Till that moment, she’d had no idea a kiss could be so thrilling. It had awoken something within her. A need. A desire. And the mere thought of Jake’s arousal, pressing hard against her stomach, made her tingle even more.
But it wasn’t just any kiss. It was his kiss. Jacob McNamara, pirate captain, brigand. The enigmatic man who had just walked out of her life, probably forever. And undoubtedly for the best. Her future lay elsewhere.
As if to support that conclusion, a knock interrupted her thoughts. Thrice and thrice again. Amy smoothed her skirts, squared her shoulders, and opened the door. The man standing before her was a stranger of middling years, well groomed if somewhat portly, with thinning hair and a roman nose. His red cravat appeared to be choking him, since his pallor was of a deeper red and his eyes appeared to be bulging.
“Where is he?” he enquired. “Where’s the blasted reprobate who brought you here?”
“Er, he…he left,” Amy said. “A while ago.”
“Christ, I knew it,” he said, his cheeks turning even redder. “I bloody knew it. Those damn savages. They were all in on this.”
Amy’s hackles bristled. “Are you Burgess?”
The mention of his name seemed to halt his tirade. He inhaled and tugged down on his waistcoat.
“Yes, I am indeed. Please forgive me, Mistress. It has been a trying day.” He raked his gaze over her. “Are you unhurt?”
“Yes,” she said, lifting her chin a notch. “I have been well treated.”
“Good, good.” He stood to the side and gestured with an outstretched arm. “Then, if you’re quite ready, I have a carriage waiting for you.”
Amy picked up her bag. “I’m ready,” she said, and followed him down the stairs. Only a few of the pirates remained in the bar, she noticed, as she headed for the door. One of them, a swarthy fellow who looked as though he hadn’t pulled a comb through his lengthy locks in a decade, nodded at her and tapped the side of his nose. Amy frowned, wondering what it meant.
“This way,” Burgess said, stepping outside. “Let me take that.”
Amy gave him her bag and followed him around the side of the inn to where a carriage awaited. For some reason, she felt uneasy, and hesitated.
Burgess opened the door and gave her a superior smile. “After you, Mistress.”
“Thank you,” she said, climbing aboard. “What time does our ship sail?”
Burgess didn’t answer. Nor did he follow her into the carriage. He gave her yet another superior smile and closed the door.
“Ship?” a sickeningly familiar voice said. “Whatever makes you think we’re taking a ship?”
Amy let out a soft cry as she turned and looked into her father’s pitiless eyes. The shock all but stopped her heart. She pressed a hand to her chest, hardly able to breathe. “Papa?” No. There had to be some mistake. Jake would never have betrayed her. Not like this. Please God.
The carriage lurched as it set out and Amy let out another cry and reached for the door handle. Like a steel manacle, her father’s hand closed around her wrist.
“Don’t be a damn fool,” he snarled. “What the hell is wrong with you? I was tempted to leave you with those filthy brigands. Maybe I should have.”
“Why are you here?” she cried. “I’m supposed to go back to my mother. She’s the one who paid the ransom.”
Her father regarded her for a moment, and then threw back his head and laughed. “Where the bloody hell did you get that idea? Your mother doesn’t have that kind of money. Why do you think she wrote asking that I bring you back to England? She can hardly afford to keep herself, let alone her bastard child.”
Amy stared at her father, barely able to make sense of what he was saying. “My mother wrote to you? She… she told you I was with her?”
“Yes.” He huffed. “I’d have been quite happy to leave you there, but Dalton wanted his bride, so he arranged to bring you home. And then the bloody ship you’re on gets attacked by pirates.”
Amy felt as though she had ice in her veins. “So, are you telling me the pirate captain asked you for the ransom?”
“Well, of course! And a ridiculous amount, too, which I refused to pay.” He harrumphed. “Two thousand guineas, indeed! Then I had to pay Dalton what I owed him, since he no longer wanted you once the pirates got a hold of you.” He leaned forward. “Are you still a virgin? Christ, I hope you’re not carrying one of their bastards. They wanted payment for the silk they stole, too. Can you believe that? I refused to pay that as well. Managed to get the ransom down by half, although your foolishness has still cost me a small fortune. Maybe I should have left you to your fate. In any case, there’s a sound beating waiting for you when I get you home. You’ll not move for a month, believe me.”
Amy leaned back and closed her eyes. The pain of Jake’s betrayal was like nothing she’d ever felt. She tried to reason it out. He was a pirate, after all. What else could she expect? But she had believed him to be more than a mere outlaw. She had believed he’d actually cared for her. What an utter and complete fool she had been. It seemed she could trust no one.
No one at all.
“Yes,” she said.
Her father grunted. “Yes what?”
She opened her eyes and looked out of the window, seeing only her reflection as her tears found their release. “I’m still a virgin.”
“Well, maybe Dalton will still have you, then,” he replied. “For a price.”
* * *
Amy drifted on the cusp of sleep, her dreams nonsensical, familiar voices whispering to her.
It means ‘my heart’.
‘... you’ll always have a cabin at Dún Caorthann…’
‘Fortunately for you, I’m a merciful man…’
‘Who do you fear more? Me or your noble father?’
‘Are you doing this on purpose, Amy?’
She jerked awake as the carriage gave a sudden, violent lurch, throwing her father onto the floor.
“What the bloody hell…?” he shouted, struggling to get up. From outside came the sound of horses neig
hing, and a loud voice. A man’s voice, his words not quite discernable.
Amy looked out of the window, unable to see anything but trees. The voice continued its narrative, and she shifted to lean forward, trying to see who spoke.
At that moment, the door opened, and a cocked flintlock pistol appeared, clasped in a gloved hand. Amy let out a squeal.
“Get out,” a man’s voice said. “And no sudden moves.”
“What the hell is this?” her father demanded. “How dare you?”
“I said, get out.” A clean-shaven face appeared in the doorway, masked in black from forehead to mouth, an equally black hat on his head. “Or die where you sit.”
Amy gasped and glanced at her father, who looked at her and nodded. “Go,” he said. “Do as they tell you.”
The masked-man inclined his head and offered his hand as Amy stepped out. “No, thank you,” she said, curling her lip. “I can manage.”
She ignored his soft chuckle and looked about. It was a desolate spot, with a stone wall on one side, and woodland on the other. Cloudy skies and the soft whistle of the wind only added to the sense of isolation.
The highwayman, whoever he was, had company. Two others, similarly masked, sat astride their horses, pistols pointed at Burgess and the carriage driver, who were standing by the roadside. The horses that had been pulling the carriage were unhooked and were grazing at the side of the road.
Amy knew that highwaymen, as a rule, robbed, but did not kill. Perhaps that was why she felt no fear. Then it occurred to her that she didn’t feel anything at all, really. It seemed all her emotions had been torn from her.
Her father stumbled out, his normally well-groomed hair tousled, and hands raised. “A bloody robbery,” he said. “Good Christ. This country is rife with bloody criminals.”
The masked-man smiled, pulled a cloth bag from his belt, and handed it to Amy. “Have your husband place his valuables in there,” he murmured. “Nice and slow, both of you. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“He’s my father, actually,” Amy said, and raised a brow at her sire, who snarled, pulled out his pocket-book, and dropped it into the bag.
The man smiled. “I’ll have your ring, too, sir.”
“That’s my signet ring.” Her father covered it with his other hand. “A family heirloom.”
“Really? How nice.” The man waggled his pistol. “Put it in the bag.”
“You bastards!” he snarled but did as bidden. “I hope you’re all caught and hung.”
“I’m already hung,” one of the other riders remarked.
“Me too,” his companion said. “Like a horse.”
The masked-man at Amy’s side snorted.
“If you’re finished,” Amy’s father said, “We’d like to be on our way. We have nothing else of value.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” The man moved toward Amy, eyeing her as he might a piece of livestock. “There’s a little treasure, right here.”
Unafraid, Amy met his gaze. The man had blue eyes. Or maybe grey. But they definitely had a twinkle in them.
“Keep your hands off her,” her father growled.
“Get back in the carriage,” her masked observer said, and Amy turned to do so. “No, not you.” The man took her by the wrist and looked at her father. “You.”
Amy glanced down to where the man held her. She felt her heart quicken, but said nothing.
“Get back in the carriage, old man,” the man repeated, “or your daughter dies.”
Her father’s nostrils flared. “Damn you to hell,” he said, and clambered aboard. The man, still holding Amy’s wrist, shut the carriage door.
“We’re going for a little ride, Amy,” he whispered. “Don’t resist. It’ll only make things difficult. And don’t be afraid. I promise you won’t be harmed.”
Her eyes widened. “Who are you?” she asked. “And how do you know—?”
A gloved finger settled over her lips. “It’s not important.” He led her to his horse. “Have you ridden before?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Still holding onto her, he uncocked the gun and shoved it in his belt. Then he pulled himself into the saddle. “Up you come,” he said, hoisting her up beside him. “Hold tight.”
Chapter Nine
Jake had worn a rut in the earth from his pacing. “Something must have happened,” he said, pausing to glance down the road for the hundredth time. Not that he could see much since night had fallen. “They should have been here by now.”
The driver of their carriage, a friend of Quinn’s who went by the unbefitting name of Caesar, spat on the ground. “Time yet, guvnor,” he said. “They likely travelled a few miles afore Alan and the lads got to them.”
Jake sighed and rolled his head, trying to loosen the tightness in his neck. From inside the carriage came the soft sound of snoring. Fez, not feigning anymore. Even the poor horses looked to be asleep, eyes closed and heads drooping.
What if things got out of hand? What if she put up a fight? What if—?
“Here ye go,” Caesar muttered, craning his neck. “I reckon this is them.”
Jake held his breath as the sound of hoofbeats came out of the night. Sure enough, moments later, three men, masked and clad in black, pulled their horses to a halt.
“She’s all yours, Captain,” one of the riders said, gesturing behind him. “Might need a hand down, I reckon.”
Jake strode over to where Amy sat behind the Highwayman. From the look on her face, he figured it might be easier to take on the pirate factions of France and Spain single handed.
He held out his arms, indicating she should dismount. “Come on, Amy,” he said. “I’ll lend you my dirk, if you like. I’ll even show you how to stab me in the heart with a single thrust, all right?”
She slid into his arms and looked up at him. Jake dared to risk a smile.
“You don’t have a heart,” she said, walked to the carriage, and climbed inside.
* * *
Arms folded, Amy stared out of the carriage window in stark silence. After making several more attempts to speak with her, Jake had given up. Maybe it was wise to let her simmer. She’d have to speak eventually.
By the time they’d descended the carriage and boarded the rowboat to take them to the Queen, Jake had begun to lose patience. Still, he didn’t press her till they entered his quarters.
He closed the door, watching as Amy unfastened her cloak and lay it on the bunk. She appeared calm. Ominously calm. Like the ocean before a storm.
“Amy.”
She turned and leveled her gaze at him, lifting her chin a little.
“Speak to me,” he said, moving closer. “Please. I’ve had enough of this ridiculous silence. I know you’re angry, but—”
She let out a cry as her hand cracked like a whip across his cheek. Jake bit down against the pain, but not his. Hers. It shadowed her face and glazed her eyes, dulling them, making them look almost feverish. “Yes, Jake, I’m angry,” she said, her voice quivering. “I’m so damn angry I can hardly bear it. I don’t know what beats under those ribs of yours, but it’s not a heart. It’s something black and shriveled, empty of feeling.”
Jake’s throat tightened. “That’s enough.”
She laughed as tears tumbled down her cheeks. “No, it’s not enough. I could tell you a thousand times how much you disgust me, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“You were never in any danger, Amy.”
“Never in…?” She gasped. “Are you totally addled? You gave me back to my father. You lied, Jake! Dear God, you have lied to me every day since we met. Every single day. You even lied about what happened to your eye. And I was stupid enough to believe those lies. To believe in you. And all the while, you were making plans behind my back. Plans to return me to my father.”
“Only temporarily, as it happens. I had no intention of leaving you with him. I just wanted the ransom.”
“Yes, of course.” She scoffed, her lip curli
ng. “You once told me you did not deal in human cargo, yet that is exactly what I was to you. You sold me to the highest bidder without a care.”
He shook his head. “Not true. I never asked your mother for money. Only your father.”
“You…? Oh, my god.” Amy shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. “Even more lies.”
“I’m being honest with you now, Amy.”
“It’s too bloody late.”
Words he did not want to hear. “All right, I’ve misled you, and I’m sorry. But I would never have let any harm come to you. Please believe me.”
“None of what you’re saying makes any difference to the… the wrongness of this. You told me you would never put me in harm’s way, yet that is exactly what you did.” She rubbed her forehead. “I just can’t understand how you could lie to me like that. Deceive me. I trusted you, Jacob McNamara. I believed in you. I even thought I meant something to you.”
That hurt more than any slap across the face. “You do,” he said, “which is why you’re here.”
“Bollocks!” she cried, scrubbing tears from her cheeks. “You don’t use people you care about and you used me.”
“All right, yes, I used you!” Jake sucked air through his teeth. “But don’t forget what I am, Amy, and don’t forget where, and how, I found you. I owed you nothing. Not your virtue, not your life. Yet you retain both of those because, despite what you think, I am not without a heart. But I still owe you nothing. I owe my crew, however, a fair share of whatever profits we make from plunder, including ransoms paid for hostages. I have not touched a penny of your father’s money, nor will I. It has been shared among my crew, who, in case you need reminding, are pirates. Just like me.”
A breath shuddered from her. “Just like you, yes. And just like all the other men I’ve ever known. Greedy and self-serving. And you’re right, of course. You owe me nothing, but don’t make yourself out to be some kind of merciful hero, because you’re not. I’d tell you that I hate you, but I think you already know that.”
Stolen by Starlight: A Pirates of Britannia World Novel Page 8