Man of My Dreams Boxed Set

by Minger, Miriam

  Apprehension building inside her as Ian grabbed her other arm, the two Irishmen hurrying her down a path leading to a pebbly beach not far from the village, Lindsay felt the numbing daze that had gripped her slowly lifting.

  Dear Lord, what sort of miscreants had Jared entrusted her to? The innkeeper, Mrs. Tully, had seemed appalled that she shared their company. Hadn’t the woman called them a shiftless pair?

  “Watch your step, now, pretty lady,” came Michael’s gruff command as he handed her off to Ian, who’d already jumped into a large, battered rowboat. The next thing Lindsay knew, she was shoved roughly onto a seat in the prow; then the brothers each grabbed a pair of oars and pushed off from the beach.

  “She is a pretty lady, now, isn’t she?” Ian said in a silky tone that sent chills plummeting down Lindsay’s spine. “She must be special to be worth so much gold, wouldn’t you say, Michael?”

  “Aye, special indeed.”

  Not liking the way the two men were looking at her as their powerful rowing carried the boat into deeper water, Lindsay decided it was wisest to ignore them. She glanced over her shoulder, a terrible ache welling inside her at the sight of the Vengeance anchored off in the distance. At least she thought it was anchored until she saw the white sails unfurling. Fresh tears clouded her eyes.

  They were leaving the island… leaving her behind. Clearly, Jared had decided not to waste any time—

  “I’ve an idea, Michael.”

  She met Ian’s eyes, narrow green eyes like a snake’s, as he lifted a hand briefly from an oar to brush a shock of reddish-brown hair from his ruddy face. He wasn’t merely looking at her anymore but was openly leering, his gaze falling to her breasts.

  “I say when we get to the mainland we find a cozy place to spend the night, the devil with finding a coach straightaway. We’ll find a cozy place… and get to know our lovely English miss a bit better.”

  “Are you mad?” she demanded shakily, not liking at all how both men were ogling her now. “You heard the captain—you’re to take good care of me or he’ll find you and—”

  Michael cut her off, his tone cruelly mocking. “Ha! He’ll not find us if we decide to disappear, you can be sure. We’ve enough gold to take us wherever we want! We never have to return to that scrap of an island, and good riddance, I say! Just because a man doesn’t like to fish, can’t stand the smell of fish, that makes him worthless? No, no, pretty miss, we can do with you whatever we want, and your American protector would never be the wiser.”

  Michael’s tirade chilling her to the marrow, Lindsay looked desperately at the water and back at the beach, so far away now. But she would jump, by God, she would, if they even tried to touch her!

  She tried one last time to frighten them. “You don’t know my protector. If I don’t return unharmed to London, he will find you and shoot you between the eyes with his pistol. Or else he’ll use his cutlass to chop you to pieces!”

  “Or maybe he’ll hit me over the head with his picnic basket, eh, Ian? Did you ever see such a fine sight? He looked like he’d just come from market, the basket swinging so daintily on his arm—”

  As the Irishmen broke into uproarious laughter, slapping each other on the shoulder, Lindsay knew she had failed to daunt them and seized her chance. If she could just get back to the inn and Mrs. Tully… Grabbing up a spare oar at her feet, she stood and brandished it in front of her like a sword.

  “Stay away from me, both of you, or you’ll be swimming to the mainland!”

  ***

  His throat tight, Jared turned his back on Dursey Island and eyed the great sails filling with wind, the sleek schooner already skimming with ease across the waves.

  He stood alone on the quarterdeck, none of his men coming near. Not Dag, who’d remained by the galleys, not uttering a word since he’d heard Lindsay hadn’t returned to the ship and why. Not Walker, who stood silently between the two stern guns, his face turned as well from the island. Only Cowan approached, shielding his eyes from the late-afternoon sun, his voice as subdued as the mood that had settled over the Vengeance.

  “Cap’n, a word if I may.”

  Jared nodded, though he turned to look out at the open sea, his first mate coming up beside him.

  “Cap’n, I think you made a mistake trusting the Killigrews. I would have said so when you returned with Miss Somerset to the inn—they were a boasting, slothful pair—but then everything happened so fast, and you seemed so determined to get back to the ship—”

  “Because those damned cruisers are probably still looking for us, man—have you thought of that, too?” Jared said tightly, though his gut twisted at Cowan’s words. It was true about the ships, he knew, but that wasn’t what had spurred him, his every step taking him farther away from Lindsay only making him want more intensely to rush back to her. But it was done, finished. No more!

  “I warned them both,” Jared added under his breath, but not so low Cowan couldn’t hear him. “You were there, so you know. I made it clear my orders were to be followed, they’d be fools to do otherwise. The deed is done, Cowan. We’ll not be returning to the island—

  “C-C-Cap-tain! L-l-look!”

  At Dag’s agitated cry, Jared tensed, thinking for a fleeting instant the Norwegian had spotted a ship bearing down upon them. Then he heard Walker’s low whistle and he spun around to find his second-in-command peering through a spyglass, not out to sea, but back toward the island.

  “Good God, Jared, she’s just knocked one of them off the boat!”

  “Dammit, man, give that thing to me!” His breath stopped in his chest, Jared stared incredulously through the spyglass at the struggle taking place only three hundred yards away, Lindsay’s hair shining white in the sun as she jabbed an oar at Michael Killigrew, the man clearly trying to lunge at her. And the other man, Ian, was attempting to climb back into the rowboat…

  “Steer to port!” Jared shouted to the helmsman, striding to the railing. “Five degrees to port! Walker, have the gunners fire a cannon. Now!”

  Only an instant later, though to Jared it seemed an eternity, a deafening boom sounded from one of the carronades near the prow, the huge ball sending up a towering spout only a few hundred feet from the rowboat. At once through the spyglass he saw Michael Killigrew dive into the waves to join his brother, both men setting out at a desperate swim for Dursey Island.

  Yet Jared’s gaze wasn’t upon them but on Lindsay, an admiring smile lighting his face in spite of himself. She stood with her feet braced wide in the rocking boat, and hurled the oar with all her might at the retreating Irishmen—following it with another until four oars had flown through the air. Then she turned her face to the Vengeance and Jared’s smile faded, his throat constricting at how pale she looked, her eyes stricken. Cowan’s words coming back to him, he swore then if those men had dared to touch her in any way…

  The schooner slowing in the water as sails were hastily furled, rope ladders unrolled over the sides, Jared didn’t need the spyglass now, the ship almost upon Lindsay and her bobbing craft. Fortunately, she hadn’t thrown all the oars overboard, but she made no effort to row toward them, instead plunking herself down upon a seat and proceeding to row away from the Vengeance, which made Jared’s jaw grow tight.

  Damnation, did she think she would take herself to the Irish mainland now? Alone? With no coin to her name? He could see that her strokes were awkward at best, her right arm clearly causing her pain. But she stubbornly rowed on, not sparing them another glance.

  “Now what, Captain?”

  There was no amusement in Walker’s voice, only an unspoken question in his midnight eyes as he stared at Jared.

  “What? You think I’m going to leave her out there?”

  When no answer came, Jared lunged past Walker, feeling the unsettling weight of his entire crew’s eyes upon him as he left the quarterdeck and strode toward the ship’s galleys. His orders were sharp.

  “Lower one of the boats. If she won’t come to us, we’ll h
ave to go to her.”

  “N-no, Cap-tain, l-l-look.”

  Jared did, following Dag’s gaze to see that Lindsay had obviously changed her mind and begun to row toward them, the schooner drifting close enough to her now that she didn’t have far to go. He turned back to the Norwegian. “Help her at the ladder, Dag.”

  “N-not you, C-Cap-tain?”

  He shook his head, the fact that Lindsay would soon be back aboard not changing his mind in the least that he would be rid of her. Maybe not today, but soon. It was the only way to protect her.

  From harm.

  From him.

  His jaw clenched fiercely as he strode back toward the quarterdeck, he knew bloody well they were one and the same.

  “Cap’n, Miss Lindsay Somerset coming aboard!”

  Cowan’s animated voice ringing out over the deck, Jared couldn’t help noticing that the Irishman didn’t sound subdued at all, but almost elated. Which made his gut knot, too.

  Didn’t his men realize that Lindsay could be no part of their world, a world so fraught with danger their own survival was continually in question? But he could feel the heavy pall over the Vengeance lifting just as surely as the sun peeking out after a storm as Lindsay’s blond head appeared above the railing.

  Not only Dag, but Cowan and Walker were there to help her over the side and greet her. Jared was tempted to turn his back to the entire proceedings, although he could not bring himself to. Almost resenting the smile she gave them, no matter her heart was surely not in it, he could not stifle his wrenching relief that she was safe.

  He felt his breath jam as their eyes met across the distance separating them, Jared jolted by near-physical pain at the hurt in her gaze. But he hardened his heart, Lindsay not appearing surprised at all when he voiced a brusque command.

  “Walker, have the helmsman set a course for the English Channel. We’re taking Miss Somerset home.”

  “Cap’n…”

  Jared looked at Cowan, who had hastened across the deck to the opposite railing. A disquieting intuition gripped him before his first mate had even uttered another word.

  “Cap’n, have you the glass? I think those devils may have found us.”

  Cursing under his breath, Jared pulled the spyglass from his belt, but he didn’t have to use it. He could easily see the ships in the distance, four altogether, their taut sails stark white against a dark, angry line of clouds gathering to the west. But it was an alarmed cry from aloft that made him slam his fist upon the railing, a sailor having clambered up the rigging to the main topsail yard.

  “Ship approaching from the north, Cap’n, and four at the west sailing straight for us!”

  Jared lowered his head, such odds not unknown to him, but for the first time in his life, he hesitated.

  They were coming for him, he knew it, coming for him and his crew, determined to capture them and win the reward. But every man aboard the Vengeance had sworn to fight to the death rather than face prison again or hang from a noose—so what, then, of Lindsay? His plan to protect her had failed completely, just as he’d failed to help Elise, and now they faced a greater, potentially insurmountable trial—

  “Jared, the men await your orders.”

  First realizing that Walker had joined him on the quarterdeck, he met his friend’s intense scrutiny, saw the concern there and the urgency. It spurred him, those ships at a swift glance not so close yet that outrunning them would be impossible, but he’d be a fool to think they weren’t in danger.

  “Loose the sails! Every man to his station!”

  The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the ship seemed to come alive: sails unfurled and swelling with the wind, sailors priming guns while others scaled the rigging. Jared looked next to where Lindsay still stood by the railing, Dag at her side.

  “Dag, take Miss Somerset below to her cabin and then return to the quarterdeck. We need all hands—”

  “Cap’n, the ship at the north!” cried the sailor who still clung to the main yard, a spyglass clutched in his hand. “It’s the man-of-war Trident!”

  Chapter 25

  Lindsay felt the strange hush fall across the Vengeance as if the sailor’s cry had sucked away all movement and sound except for the flapping sails and the schooner creaking as it was steered hard to the wind. Yet in the next moment activity resumed with a furor that she’d not seen before, Jared’s face grown hard and impassive as granite, his roared commands filling the air.

  And one of them was for Dag to escort her below at once. Lindsay knew there was no hope of her remaining above deck, even if she had wanted to. If she’d ever wondered what it might be like for the ship to face a true battle, she felt it now, struck by a terrible sense of foreboding as chilling as the sudden cool gust of wind whipping at her hair.

  It smelled of storm and rain, the sun sinking into the west already obscured by ominous clouds. Her last glance of Jared before she ducked her head into the hold was of him staring to the north, the tension in his body as palpable as Dag’s nervousness. She had never seen the Norwegian so agitated before.

  “What is it, Dag? Do you think we won’t be able to outrun them?”

  She got no answer, the big man clearly anxious to return above deck as he led the way swiftly to Jared’s quarters and shoved open the door, his agility again surprising her for someone so large. She had no sooner stepped into the cabin than the door was closed firmly behind her, and suddenly she felt as if she were reliving what had happened two weeks ago.

  Yet it wasn’t the same. So much had changed—everything had changed, and not simply the fact that no guard was stationed outside. Still incredulous that she was actually aboard the Vengeance, she knew, too, that she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, no matter the peril they faced.

  She had realized that when she’d thought first to row away from the ship after the cannon fire had chased the Killigrew brothers away, but every stroke of the oars had made the ache in her heart only worse. Despite everything Jared had said to her, everything he’d done, something inside Lindsay would not allow her to relinquish all hope. She had seen too much in his eyes, felt too much in his kiss.

  And she had seen enough lust on the faces of Michael and Ian Killigrew to know that Jared had never looked at her in such a vile way.

  Glad that at least one of the oars she had hurled at them had struck home, the memory of Ian’s pained cry still fresh in her mind, Lindsay moved to the porthole but lost her balance when the ship suddenly listed sharply to port. She cried out as her shoulder struck the cabin wall, but her pain was nothing to the dread that seized her when she heard a deafening thunderclap, the sound so close she felt the entire ship shudder.

  “Oh, Lord, no, they can’t be firing upon us!” She made it to the porthole despite the heavy list, her eyes widening to see rain pelting the glass.

  Nervous, near-giddy laughter escaped her; it wasn’t cannon fire but thunder she’d heard, the Vengeance overtaken by a sudden squall. Yet her laughter froze in her throat when she saw a huge ship plunging through the rolling, rain-lashed waves toward them, her heightened sense of foreboding almost choking her.

  “They’re going to ram us,” she murmured in horror, thinking to run but not knowing where, and unable to tear her eyes from the terrifying sight. The words were no sooner off her tongue than the Vengeance listed severely to starboard and seemed to surge forward, throwing her to the floor. She could do nothing but close her eyes and wait for the impending impact, so certain the two ships were going to collide that she screamed when the cabin door burst open and slammed against the wall.

  “Lindsay, get up! Come with me now!”

  Astonished to see Walker grasp her by the shoulders and help her to her feet, Lindsay felt as if a cold hand had taken hold of her heart.

  “Is it Jared? What’s happening?”

  “Move, Lindsay, there’s no time! He sent me down here to get you out of the cabin—now!”

  Half stumbling, she obeyed, the American grabbing her a
rm and almost dragging her along with him into the passageway. She heard men shouting, the air crackling with tension, then the thunderous boom of cannon as if every gun on the Vengeance had opened fire.

  A horrifying answer came too soon. Lindsay screamed again as an explosion so near to them rocked the ship; she and Walker were both hurled to the floor, her head hitting something hard.

  Dazed, she lay there; as if from a great distance, she heard more screams, but they weren’t hers. She tried to speak but couldn’t, her last shred of consciousness like a bizarre dream as she was hauled across the floor, the acrid smell of gunpowder enveloping her, choking her. Dimly, she saw Walker’s face, cut and bleeding. Then everything went black.

  ***

  It was the sound of fierce pounding that roused her, Lindsay unable to guess, when she opened her eyes and tried to gather her bearings, how long she might have lain there in the bunk…

  A bunk? She raised herself up shakily on one elbow, grimacing at the pounding in her head which seemed as fierce, matching her sudden confusion. The last thing she remembered, she and Walker had been running and

  “Oh, God, help me! Help me!”

  The agonized cry coming from somewhere behind her, Lindsay rolled over; her startled gaze flew to the bloodied sailor who lay stretched out on a table, Cooky and his two kitchen assistants frantically working over the injured man. Recognizing the crew’s quarters, she thrust herself from the bunk, paying no heed to the aching in her head or to her wobbly legs as she hurried to Cooky’s side despite the pitching deck.

  “What happened? Can I help—what can I do?”

  “Help us hold him down, miss. We’ve got to cut the fragment from his leg.”

  As a gag made of rope was thrust into the wretched sailor’s mouth, Lindsay did as she was told, squeezing her eyes shut as his muffled cries filled the large cabin. His agony was mercifully short-lived. When she looked again, the man had fainted. She almost felt like fainting herself when she saw the bloody knife in Cooky’s hand and watched him throw a jagged chunk of metal to the floor with disgust.