The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1)

by P. S. Bartlett

  “Brilliant, Ke. Just one of the many reasons I love you. But isn’t it also possible that the captain was working on his own behalf?” he suggested, turning her around gently and looking down into her eyes.

  “Of course, but the captain of a merchantman just doesn’t pick up a bag of diamonds and hop on his ship and sail away. There’s more to this, and I want to know what it is,” Keara stated, again being pulled into an embrace. “Brilliant, aye? And all this time I thought it was because of my juicy bum,” she said with an infectious giggle.

  “Oh, that’s right. Thanks for reminding me,” he growled, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder again. He rushed towards the bedroom.

  “Wait! The stones!” she cried out. He stopped and backed up to the table. As she snatched the bag she said, “Carry on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Carbonale’s Le Chat Noir was at full sail, and the favorable winds and fine weather were pushing her through the water as if she were gliding on ice. Ivory was stored away in a small cabin which she believed had been used for prisoners before. Even as cramped as it was, at least she had a window, a chair, and a cot. There was a pitcher of water and a cup on a shabby maple tea table, as well as a trunk that Zara packed for her containing a shawl, fresh stockings, shoes and the dresses to choose from for court. She decided to lie down and, perhaps if she was lucky, sleep a while to forget where she was.

  When she lay back on the cot, she could clearly hear the rushing about and loud chatter around and above her that almost gave her a sense of comfort. At least these were familiar sounds—yet oddly, they brought to the surface the first day after the pirate raid back in Charles Towne. As she drifted off, she settled into that memory, since she believed anything that happened from that moment forward, she would force herself to forget. As soon as she closed her eyes, she could feel herself being pulled backwards in time to her kitchen table with Cass… and the as yet unknown change of fate which was about to unfold.

  * * * *

  “You know we’re not safe here anymore,” Cass said, once Miranda and Keara had fallen asleep.

  “I know,” Ivory replied, staring at the battered oak table top and trying to come up with a solution.

  “I’m sure the one who got away is long back aboard that ship and has informed his mates of what transpired here. They could be at our door at any moment, Ivory. Ivory? Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes!” she shouted in a whisper. “For Christ’s sake, I’m trying to figure this out. Have you any suggestions to offer? Because I’m getting the feeling this is all falling on me, and you three killed four of them before I even arrived, if you recall.”

  “And how many have you killed prior?”

  “What difference does that make now?”

  “It makes a hell of a difference and don’t pretend it doesn’t. None of us wanted this. We did what we had to do—what you taught us to do to protect ourselves.”

  “And a damn fine job you did, too. What do you think I’d have found had you not done what we rehearsed? I’ll tell you exactly what would have happened, Cass. You’d have all been raped, beaten, and left for dead… or worse, dragged off in the night to their friends for more sport. I’m proud of you all. I’m proud of us.”

  “Well? What do we do now?”

  “How much money have we saved?”

  “I’d have to check with Miranda, but I’d say we have a couple hundred dollars. But we were going to use that to move up North.”

  “If we don’t get our asses out of this, there won’t be an “up North” for any of us.”

  “Well, there are no bodies, and we’ve scrubbed this place clean, but the word of one coward pirate is more than enough to bring another five or ten. Do you think we can take them?”

  “Five, yes. Ten, no.”

  “Look, they’re raiding the whole area. They normally don’t hang around. They take what they can and run. The one who ran, it’s possible that in the dark, in a place he’s never been before, he wouldn’t even be able to lead them back here.”

  “The river.”

  “What about it?”

  “They followed the river to get to the houses… and to us. How about you and I take a little boat ride upstream and see what we’re up against?”

  “You’re crazy, Ivory.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m not crazy enough to sit here any longer and wait for them to come to us.”

  “What about Miranda and Ke?”

  “Wake them up. Pants, coats, hats, pistols, and blades. We’ll all go.”

  “You’ll get us all killed before we’re done.”

  “Have some faith. If we stay here, we’re dead anyway—one way or the other.”

  “Good point, but at least we could hide somewhere until they move on.”

  “Cass, let me ask you something; are you really happy here raising chickens and vegetables?”

  “It’s a nice life. It’s peaceful and…”

  “Safe?”

  “It was…but what are you suggesting?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’d like to find out what it’s like out there before what’s out there comes after us again. Maybe next time, we won’t be so lucky,” Ivory whispered when an unfamiliar sound snapped her head around to see the fletching end of an arrow poking out from the wall just to the left of her head. “Never mind, they’re already here. Get down! ”

  Ivory and Cass dove beneath the heavy dining table and tipped it forward for cover. The box of blades and arms scattered to the floor, and Ivory tipped the table back again halfway, drawing on Cass to push it forward until they could tilt it back and bring the bulk of the weapons to their fighting side.

  “Miranda and Keara, get on the floor!” Cass called out towards the bedrooms. “We’re under attack again!”

  Keara came crawling out on her hands and knees, dragging the already loaded and ready blunderbuss tucked under her arm. “How many do you think?”

  “We don’t know. Can you make it to the window?” Ivory asked.

  “I suppose if I don’t at least try we’ll find out, sooner rather than later.”

  Keara reached her vantage spot at the window, and through the sheer curtains she saw a tall, slim man in a plumed tricorn, wearing a long black surcoat trimmed in gold thread. He appeared to be simply strolling towards their front fence. He was flanked by three pirates on his left and two on his right.

  “Would you believe it appears the captain himself is about to enter our yard?”

  “I’d believe just about anything at this point,” Miranda mumbled.

  “Hello? Is anyone at home?” inquired the deep, male voice coming from the front yard.

  “You just stop right there!” Keara shouted from the window. With the unmistakable barrel of the blunderbuss pointed directly at him, the man raised his arms from his sides and waved the other men to stop.

  “Madame, may I have a word with the man of the house?” he asked. The swarthy captain stood at least six feet four inches tall, not including his hat. He stood with his feet spread wide apart, and on them he wore knee-high black bucket boots. With his hands raised, his coat opened in the front enough to see a large pistol tucked in his leather belt, as well as a cutlass. “Hello? Sir?”

  The front door flew open, and Ivory stepped out, a broadsword in her right hand and a pistol in her left. Her long white hair was stuffed inside of a worn black leather cavalier hat. It wasn’t until she was standing there, facing them down, that she realized she was still in her night clothes, although she had at least remembered her hat, belt and boots before bolting out the door. The men burst into laughter at the sight of her, but her face was as cold as a gravestone, and just as rigid.

  “I’m so sorry to have disturbed you, Madame,” the man said, removing his hat to bow, when she fired the pistol into the air, nearly knocking herself off the porch.

  “All of you! Remove your weapons and toss them to the ground!” she shouted.

  The men turned and looked a
t each other curiously and then erupted again in laughter. One by one, Miranda, Cassandra, and Keara appeared from behind Ivory and took a spot at her side—each holding two blades—except for Keara who, with a heave and swing, propped the blunderbuss on the porch rail and aimed it directly at the captain. All at once, the men fell silent, and the captain dropped his hat back on his head with a wide grin.

  “Ladies, why so armed? We have more than enough money to pay,” the captain said, laughing again and then folding his arms across his chest.

  “I beg your pardon?” shouted Miranda.

  “They think we’re whores. They think this a fucking whorehouse,” Keara whispered through her teeth.

  “Gentlemen, I can assure you, you couldn’t be more mistaken,” Cass spoke, straightening her back, which only served to raise her chest at them, inciting more laughs, as well as a few vulgar terms of twisted admiration.

  Ivory had heard enough. She handed Cass the pistol, stepped forward, and turned towards Keara who still rested the gun on the rail. “If he makes one move, shoot. Shoot through me if you have to, but shoot him… and then kill them all.” She turned back from the second step and started to descend, never taking her eyes off the now sneering captain. “You, sir. I’d have a word with you, please!” she shouted, pointing her broadsword in his general direction.

  “Me first? Well of course me first, I am the Captain, after all,” he joked, grabbing his crotch and swaying like a willow in the breeze again, inciting his men.

  “You may play with yourself all day long, but I can assure you that your little worm won’t find a hole to hide in on our land.” Ivory stood firm, holding the sword out in front of her, daring them to advance. “Now, if you’d like to speak to me like the true woman I am, approach me, sir. If not, I’d suggest you and your men remove yourselves from our property.”

  “You’ve intrigued me, Madame,” the captain said, hushing his men and telling them to stand down.

  “Follow me,” Ivory said, leading the captain into the house. Cass, Miranda, and Keara all bore holes into the man, glaring at him as he passed through them to enter. Then, side by side, they stood guard over the home as the lazy sailors sat or laid down in the grass to wait.

  “This gun is so damn heavy,” Keara mumbled, sliding a chair beneath the barrel to keep it propped up and level.

  “What do you suppose she’s talking about in there?” Miranda asked.

  “Do you trust her?” Cass answered, never looking away from the lounging men on the ground.

  “Well, yes, I trust her. But, it would be nice to know what the hell is being said.”

  “I suppose we’ll just have to wait, Mir,” Keara sighed.

  Inside the house, the captain assisted Ivory in turning the table upright, and she pulled the arrow from the wall with a firm yank and tossed it to him. “Here’s your hello back,” she said, and then pulled him up a chair and took one for herself. She laid down her sword, but held the grip firmly in her hand.

  “You’re quite the woman aren’t you, Madame…?”

  “Ivory Shepard. And those other formidable young women are my cousins. I see no need to share their names, as of yet.”

  “Well, Madame Shepard, you obviously called me in here for a reason; so, what is it?”

  “Well, Captain…?”

  “Captain Christopher Barclay of the Demon Sea,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking over Ivory as if she were a meal about to be brought to the table.

  “You have two choices as I see it, Captain. You can either take your crew and leave with your lives, or…”

  “What makes you think that just because you have guns and blades that you could take on all of us and live?” he interrupted and asked, as he leaned towards her and pressed his fist into his hip.

  “Aren’t you already missing a few men, Captain?

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re responsible for that.”

  Ivory leaned back out of the Captain’s breath and said, “Or you take us with you, wherever you are headed.”

  The Captain laughed, low and soft at first, and then gradually it grew louder and harder, angering Ivory with every breath he drew to carry it.

  “Pick your best man.”

  “What?” he asked, still laughing.

  She rose from her chair, kicked it aside so hard it tipped, and spun across the floor and repeated, “Pick your best man.”

  “My best man? For what?” His face grew stern and his brow lowered as he, too, stood.

  “To fight me. Any weapon other than guns, of course.”

  “You’re not only foolish, you’ve a death wish, woman. Now, why don’t we stop all of this nonsense and take a walk into that room over there to settle this as a man and a woman should,” he growled, kicking his chair aside as well and pouncing on her from behind, tying her up tightly in his arms.

  “Get off of me, you disgusting pig!” she cried out as he lifted her into the air and carried her into the bedroom, pinning her arms at her sides as the sword fell to the floor.

  “Why are you making this so entertaining, Ivory? You really must stop this. You’re resistance is only making me want you more.” He grunted, tossing her down on the bed and slamming the door closed.

  Ivory sprang up and leapt from the bed onto his back, knocked off his hat, and grabbed two handfuls of his greasy black hair, nearly losing her grip as the scraggly mane slid through her fingers.

  “Any last words, Captain?”

  He continued to laugh as he crashed backwards into the dresser, trying to free himself, but she held on and latched onto his cravat, pulling it tight against his neck until the laughing stopped when she cut off his airway. He clawed at the scarf, trying to get his fingers under it, but Ivory wrapped her legs tightly around him and laid back as if pulling a horse to a stop, using most of her body weight to hold on as she hung from him.

  He continued trying to shake her off, but fell back onto the bed on top of her. He reached back and clawed at her nightgown, pulling it hard, tearing the fabric away from her body. Yet Ivory would not relent. Finally, the Captain began to fall limp on top of her. She released the scarf with one hand, snatched the cutlass from his belt and pushed the point to his throat until a trickle of blood covered the tip and rolled slowly around and down the back of his neck.

  “Get…the fuck…off… me,” she said through panted breaths and gritted teeth as she pushed him, rolling him to his left—just enough to where she could scoot from beneath him. Gradually, air began to pass through his compressed wind pipe and refill his deflated lungs. He coughed hard, repeatedly, and rolled completely to his side, gagging and choking for air.

  Ivory leapt to her feet, panting hard, but still breathing. Her heart thumped in her chest as if she’d just run a mile. She leaned forward, catching herself by the knees for a moment. Then, she stood straight and raised her arm slowly with her hand faced down, clutching the knife. Ivory pointed it directly at him. “I certainly hope…you are your best man, because if so…you’re taking us with you.”

  “I should kill you for this,” he whispered, pulling the cravat from his neck and blotting the blood that still seeped from the puncture in his gullet.

  “So typical. You attempt to rape me, and when I fight back and best you, you want to kill me. In case you missed the past few minutes, Captain, I could have killed you twice, but I let you live because I need you alive. You will take us with you, and you will instruct your crew they are not to lay a hand on any of us, or I can promise you that the first man who tries to do so will feel my razor slice through his throat. The last thing he’ll see is my eyes before the Devil welcomes him home.”

  “And what’s in all of this for me? Kill me if you wish, but there is no way you can expect me to walk out there and tell those men what happened here. They’ll never respect me again, and they certainly won’t abide by any rule I give not to have a turn with each of you by sundown tonight.”

  Ivory walked to the dresser, never lo
wering the cutlass or taking her eyes off of Barclay, and pulled open the top drawer. She reached in and recovered a white neck scarf, shook it out, and tossed it to him. “Put that on over the other one. Yours can stop the bleeding. Mine will conceal the bruise around your neck. I’ll not divulge to your crew what transpired here, and you can have everything on this farm except for the personal items that belong to my cousins and me. You get what you need to cover your honor, and we get what we want. I don’t care what you have to tell them, but we’re getting on that ship, and you will protect us. Give us thirty minutes to pack our things but…we’ll also need sailing clothes—same as the men wear.”

  “This is insane,” he croaked, tying the scarf around his neck and rubbing his throat gently.

  “I let you live. Life is not insane. Expecting it to always go the way you think it should however, is lunacy. Now get up and let’s move. I suspect what you’ve taken so far from the people on this riverbank, as well as what I’m giving you, is more than enough to set sail immediately.”

  “You have no idea what you’re getting these women into, Ivory,” Barclay spoke as he stood.

  “You have no idea what I’m getting them away from either. If we stay here, eventually we rot for the rest of lives under some fat, filthy farmer who hasn’t an inkling of what we’ve been through, or what we’re worth. Worse than that, we might not be as lucky the next time your sort comes along in the night, and we end up drawing our last breath with some smelly, dirty pirate beast on top of us, stealing what’s left of our dignity before he slits our throats. I’m giving us our freedom. I’m saving us no matter what it takes! I’ll never die at the hands of some pirate bastard, and I’ll kill any man who ever tries to hurt one of those girls, too.”

  “My sort…I find it remarkable that a woman as smart as you cannot see the irony in all of this.”