“Very kind of you… ah, what is your name, if I may ask?”
“Josiah Cox, sir. First mate.”
“Well, Mister Cox, it has been nice knowing you.”
“Been lovely knowin’ ye, too, sir,” Cox said, chuckling. “Now, if ye don’t mind, they’re waitin’ for ye.”
Beckett stepped through the door and tried not to squint at the bright light. As he walked down the passageway, his mind raced, and his heart—damn the bloody thing—pounded in his throat. This was undoubtedly his last chance to save Isobel and himself. He would have to keep his head, find an opportunity, and grab it. It would be bloody difficult surrounded by armed pirates, but there was no choice. He had to succeed.
So many memories of Isobel whirled before him. Some he could see, and some he could only feel. They all seemed to flow together and blend into one, like the everchanging colors of a sunset. The silkiness of her hair, her warm cocoa-brown eyes, the timbre of her voice… bathing each other in the spring, exploring the cave, kissing her neck that night in the Whitcomb garden, the sound of her gasping beneath him, dancing with her to the drums at Cropover. The images all swirled together in his head, in his veins, his limbs, his heart.
Would she be up on deck to watch him hang? If Sir Harry had his way, Isobel would most certainly be there. Beckett put his foot on the first step and looked up the stairs. He would find out soon enough.
“Ah, I see the guest of honor has arrived.” Sir Harry smirked at Isobel. “Though I must say, he looks like he hasn’t dressed up.”
“Beckett!” Isobel cried. Instinctively she tried to move toward him, but Sir Harry’s strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and held her firm.
“Now, now, my dear. You must stand back in order to appreciate the view.”
Isobel stared helplessly at Beckett, feeling her heart burn in her chest as though consumed by flames. He met her gaze with his own, and though his face was pale, unshaven and thin, his eyes still held a depth and intensity that touched her soul.
Dear God, help us!
Isobel turned toward Worthington, who stood nearby, and wrenched herself free from Sir Harry’s grip.
She ran to the captain’s side, and sinking down onto her knees, grabbed his hand and pressed her lips to it. Tears dampened her face as she looked up into the wolf-gray eyes of the pirate lord.
“Please, please… don’t let him do this! Don’t let him kill my husband. I would do anything to save his life.
You can stop this. I beg you to stop this, Captain, please!” She kissed his hand again and tried to choke back sobs of despair, but they jumped out of her throat and echoed forsakenly across the deck.
Worthington looked down at her and pulled her to her feet. For a moment, she thought she’d seen something flicker in his eyes—compassion, or sympathy perhaps. But it had only lasted a moment. It was gone.
“I am sorry, Madam. I can do nothing to help you.”
Isobel cried out and tried to strike his face, but Worthington easily grabbed her wrist and held it immobile.
“You mean you won’t do anything! You are a coward, sir—of the first order. I’m sure you are the only pirate in the world who is afraid to stand up to the likes of Sir Harry Lennox.”
“I am not afraid of anything, madam.” Worthington raised an eyebrow in warning. “Except of course, ruining my reputation—which I have no intention of doing by interfering with a paying customer. Not for you, not for your husband.”
Isobel spat, “Then I will pray for your soul, Captain, for it is surely destined for hell.”
Worthington’s eyes narrowed. “You do that.” His gaze flicked over to the men holding Beckett. “String him up.”
Isobel looked about in desperation. Could no one help her?
Captain Black crouched on the nearby railing. His green eyes watched her, stoic.
“Wait.”
Isobel turned to see Sir Harry approaching with his reptilian smile. And as he walked toward her, Isobel thought that he moved like a snake… so smooth, so dark and menacing. The only things missing were scales.
“Perhaps my future bride has a point. I am, after all, not without some feeling. I see no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to say goodbye to your first husband, Isobel. Would you like that? I know I would enjoy seeing it. The tears, the final kiss… oh, I do love romance.”
Isobel stared at him, horrified, but unable to resist the promise of touching, kissing Beckett for one last time. She nodded mutely.
“Shall we, then?” Sir Harry grabbed her arm and yanked her toward her husband, who struggled anew against the pirates who held him.
Sir Harry pulled her up in front of Beckett, so she stood just out of reach. Her eyes devoured the sight of him, trying to memorize every line, every curve of Beckett’s face, the exact color of his eyes, the shade of his lips. She tried to get closer to him, but Sir Harry jerked her back.
“But you said we could have one last kiss,” Isobel pleaded.
“I lied.”
“Get your hands off her, you bastard,” Beckett growled.
“Oh. You mean these hands, Ravenwood?” Sir Harry slid his palms over Isobel’s shoulders and pulled her against him. “You mean, the ones that are going to be undressing your little wife on our wedding night, while you rot in hell?”
Beckett thrashed against the pirates who held him.
“I won’t let him hurt you, Isobel—I promise you that! Whatever happens, I’ll come for you. Do you believe me?”
Isobel nodded. “I love you, Beckett.”
“And I—”
“Now you can string him up,” Sir Harry ordered, dragging Isobel away while her husband struggled against his guards.
“Beckett!” Isobel cried out over her shoulder, trying to see him.
“Isobel,” his muffled voice answered, drowned out by the scuffle.
“Get him up there, now!” Sir Harry shrieked.
Isobel watched in horror as the pirates dragged Beckett toward the side of the boat, where the noose hung off the yard-arm and swung mockingly in the breeze.
“No! Oh, please, no.” Isobel stood transfixed, not wanting to watch, but helpless not to.
“For goodness’ sake, he could at least have the decency to put his head in the noose like a gentleman,”
Sir Harry complained.
Catching the man off guard, Isobel shoved him as hard as she could, and spun around to do more damage. But the escalating noise behind her made her turn around, and her heart leapt at what she saw.
Beckett seemed to be breaking free of his captors!
Two of Worthington’s men had been trying to force his head through the noose, and Beckett had taken one of their daggers. It now flashed before him and glinted in the early morning light as he fought against the remaining guard.
But the tide was turning yet again.
Soon five, then six armed pirates swarmed around Beckett, and Isobel screamed.
He would be sliced to ribbons by their swords!
Beckett climbed up the rigging like a monkey, his dagger swishing through the air behind him as the cutthroats clambered after him in pursuit. The clanging of blade on blade rang out from above and made an eerie music for this strange dance.
“Damnation!” Sir Harry growled from beside Isobel, his injury now forgotten as he watched the action high above, along with the rest of those on deck.
Isobel ignored him. Her heart, her entire being was too fixed on the deadly ballet going on above to pay Sir Harry any attention now.
Beckett had stopped climbing, desperately fighting off the closest of the pirates. He kicked out and the man went flying off the rigging and fell to the deck below. The pirate landed with a great thud, then lay inert. She looked back up and saw another pirate closing in on her husband and their blades clashed anew.
Then, Beckett threw his head back to avoid a blow and lost his hold, falling through the air. Isobel screamed. It seemed so unbearably slow, but she heard him yelling, and herse
lf screaming, and then, a great splash as he hit the water.
Isobel ran to the side, joined by the entire crew. Frantically, she scanned the water for his head, but saw nothing.
“Beckett! Beckett!” she cried.
Someone’s hand grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away, but she fought hard.
“Where is he? I can’t see him! Beckett!”
Worthington’s voice spoke from behind her, and she realized it was his hand that gripped her arm. He peered over the side down into the water that offered no answers.
“He’s gone, my lady.”
“No!” Isabel shook her head, willing herself not to believe.
“A fall from that height… he went straight down. Or broke his neck when he hit the water. Your husband is dead.”
“No. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it!”
Worthington shook his head. “He is dead, madam.”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” Sir Harry spoke up, adjusting his cuffs. “Though I must say, I am not pleased with the way it went. I would have liked it drawn out a bit more, at least. But, as you say, Worthington, dead is dead. Now, we can be married, my dear.” A smile snaked across his lips. “As soon as we reach Hampton Park, which, if we continue to make good time, may be tonight. Can you imagine? Widowed and married in the same day. How very macabre.”
Isobel, unable to speak, turned and looked out at the calm water that surrounded the boat.
The idea that Beckett was gone—it was too painful to even think about. Instead, she would stare out at the water, looking for a glimpse of him. She would not think about Sir Harry or his plans.
The truth was, she didn’t care anymore. If Beckett was dead, then so was her heart. Sir Harry could do whatever he wanted to her, and none of it would matter.
But she wouldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t.
She wiped away the tears that stained her face. Her heart ached so painfully. Now she understood what it meant to feel your heart bleed, for surely that’s what hers was doing.
The thought of losing Beckett forever chilled her so completely, she began to shake, her teeth chattering noisily. She had lost so much already… how could she bear to have lost the only man she would ever love, as well?
Not knowing what else to do, Isobel stared down into the cold blue water and prayed.
Worthington motioned to one of his sailors. The man quickly came to the captain’s side.
“Launch the rowboat, Mr. Ross. Wait for me on shore—near the caves as usual. And Mr. Ross—”
“Yes, Cap’n?” The burly pirate stepped closer.
“If you should find anything interesting floating in the water, fish it out and hold it at the caves until I get there. Understood?”
“Yes, sir, Cap’n.” The man nodded and made to go about his orders.
Worthington reached out his hand, stopping him. “Be sure and have a good look out there, will you?
There is a rather large ‘fish’ in these waters that I should very much like to catch.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Soon.
They would be there soon. And then she would be lost forever.
Isobel stood on the deck, watching the pirates preparing to drop anchor. The gulls overhead seemed to be speaking for her as they cried out in haunting lament to the skies above. It was fitting music for this day.
The Revenge bustled with activity as it prepared to unload both its passengers and its smuggled cargo. It had hidden itself in a secluded cove that would have been dangerous for any other ship to enter. But it was obviously a spot well-known to the Revenge crew.
Feeling a presence behind her, Isobel turned to see the cool stare of Captain Worthington. He held Captain Black in one arm and extended the hand of the other. She made no move to take it.
He smiled, acknowledging the snub. “I wish you well, Lady Ravenwood. You would have made a splendid pirate, I think. If you are ever in need of employment, perhaps I could find a place for you on my ship.”
“Is that intended as a compliment?”
“It was, indeed.”
“If you truly want me as a crew member, throw Sir Harry overboard. Then I’ll be happy to join you.”
Worthington chuckled. “A noble attempt, my lady, but I wouldn’t want it to get ‘round that I double-cross my paying customers. That would have a negative effect on my business.”
“Ah, yes, your business.” Isobel nodded and turned to look at the coastline. “Forgive me if I see my husband’s life as rather more important than any financial transaction could ever be.”
He cocked an eyebrow, stroking Captain Black’s fur. “I am a pirate, after all. You underestimate yourself, Lady Ravenwood. I don’t believe you need me at all. You have the survival instincts of a fox.
You’re clever, and you know when to stay hidden and when to run.”
“Sometimes the fox gets caught.”
“True. But whatever happens, the fox never gives up, does it? And that is how it escapes the hunters.”
Isobel turned away, thinking of everything she’d left behind at Ravenwood Hall on Barbados. It all seemed like a twisted jest. Her life had been interrupted by a dream of love, safety and belonging. Now she seemed fated to be Sir Harry’s plaything. It was as if her escape to London, her time with Beckett there and in Barbados, had never taken place.
She glanced at Worthington as he stood beside her, also gazing at the cold Atlantic. But as she gazed out over the forbidding sea, a faint hope still glowed in her heart. She would cling to that hope until her heart stopped beating.
Worthington turned to her. “There are stories of mermaids in these waters, did you know, Lady Ravenwood?”
“Mermaids? Indeed, Captain.”
What game was he playing at now?
“Oh, yes,” the pirate said, stroking Captain Black as the cat studied her with bright green eyes. “There are many stories of mermaids—and mermen, too. I thought I saw one myself, once. I should keep my eye open, if I were you, lady. One never knows what one might find in these waters.”
Isobel looked at him quizzically.
What was the man trying to say? Was he trying to give her false hope? Or did he know something she didn’t?
Just then, Sir Harry appeared on deck, fussing with his coat. He approached Isobel and Worthington.
Isobel felt her stomach sink.
This was it, then.
“I say, Worthington—coaching my bride-to-be in the tricks of your pirate trade, are you?” Sir Harry’s eyes darted from the captain to Isobel.
“Oh no, Lennox, she needs no coaching from me.” Worthington’s smile was mocking.
Sir Harry’s eyes narrowed as he thrust his final payment towards the pirate captain. “You think to laugh at me, do you?” Sir Harry grabbed Isobel’s arm and pulled her roughly beside him. “Believe me, Captain, I will have the last laugh… on all of you.”
Captain Black hissed at Sir Harry, but Worthington held the animal fast. Sir Harry took a step back.
“Captain Black and I wish you luck in trying to tame her, Lennox.” Worthington’s voice was as cold as ice. “You’ll need it.” With that, the man turned away and walked to the open cargo hold to oversee the unloading of smuggled goods into their landing boats.
Sir Harry looked down at Isobel, his eyes dark and dangerous. His lips curled slowly, but it was more of a threat than a smile. “Just think, my dear—only a few more hours and we shall be at Hampton Park celebrating our wedding. And then our wedding night.”
He pulled her close to him so that her breasts were pressed uncomfortably against his chest. Instinctively, she turned her head away from his leering face, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.
“I shall be your husband now, as I was meant to be. And you will see that no man could ever love you as much as I can, Isobel. Soon… you will see exactly how much I love you.”
He pulled her head towards his and she tried to squirm away, but he was too stron
g, and his vile lips covered hers and kissed her hard. Isobel felt bile rising in her throat and hoped it made its way up her throat and right into Sir Harry’s mouth.
What would she do? What would she do tonight, if Beckett did not appear to stop this? He had said he’d come for her. He had promised. But for the first time since he’d disappeared into the dark blue waters, Isobel felt her fears grabbing hold of her faith and choking the life out of it.
Sir Harry released her and looked down into her eyes with a self-satisfied grin. “That was only a taste, my love. I shall show you much more tonight in our chamber. After you’ve been taught a lesson for cuckolding me, of course.” He touched her cheek. “Until tonight, then.”
Cold fear washed over her heart in icy waves as Sir Harry led her toward the side of the ship and her new life.
Oh, dear Lord… what if it’s true? What if Beckett really is gone? Have I been deluding myself to hope that he might still be alive?
Just then a gull swooped down from above, having apparently decided to use Sir Harry’s head for target practice. The baronet stood stunned for a few moments, then scowling, he gingerly reached a hand up to investigate. His face seemed to curl inward as he grimaced in distaste.
“Oh! Bloody hell! Damned ignorant bastards, those disgusting birds.” Sir Harry pulled out his handkerchief and ineffectively mopped his head.
Isobel couldn’t help but laugh, and neither it seemed, could any of the pirates. Not only was it good to see Sir Harry in any kind of discomfiture, but surely the gull had been sent by the Lord Himself to give her a sign.
“Alright, the theatricals are over.” Sir Harry growled at the crew. “Isobel, get down that ladder and into the boat. It’s time to get off this bloody scow.”
Isobel saw the captain look over at Sir Harry’s choice of words. She and Worthington locked eyes for one last time before she descended the ladder. If she’d been hoping to see a change of heart, it was not to be found.
Stepping into the boat, Isobel sat silently while Sir Harry descended the rope ladder. The two pirates that he had hired sat in the middle, each one holding an oar. Soon, her abductor took his seat and the boat began to move quietly towards shore.
The Marriage Bargain Page 22