The Pirate's Bride

by Skendrovich, Cathy

  The entire room froze, all eyes pinned on the erect Asian girl. The images her heart-felt outburst evoked hung in the room. An awkward silence spun out.

  Recovering first, Andre addressed Madame Liu. “I could definitely masquerade as the trader, and master Wharton here be my associate,no?" Andre met Limey’s astonished gaze with a mild challenge. would they work together?

  He went on to explain his reasoning, directing his attention to his father first. “You can’t go in, mon père, Zheng knows what you look like. I have never met the bâtard. Besides,still we are disguised better than you.

  Squinting at Andre, Louis made a Gallic shrug, agreeing to the plan after a pause. With a slight bow to his father, Andre raised his brows at Madame Liu.

  The older woman nodded. “This could work. Once you get my women inside, we could take out key sentries, allowing your men the chance to get into the compound. However, Zheng’s communication is phenomenal inside. You would have to get to him quickly, before the alarm is raised. Could you do that?”

  Andre didn’t have to think twice. This was to what everything had been leading up. “Oh, I think that could be arranged, Madame most definitely.

  The evening ended soon after that. Tables had been cleared, food stored, and guests departed. Even the hostess and her daughter had retired. Andre, Louis, and the first mates removed to the large, bamboo patio overlooking the ocean and its never-ceasing, undulating waves. While de Gallo and Le Commandant smoked companionably in rocking chairs, Andre and Limey leaned against the terrace’s wooden rails, together, but apart.

  Directing his gaze at the elder Dubois, Limey stated, “It’s a dangerous endeavor we’ve proposed, beggin’ your pardon, sir.”

  Louis studied the tip of his cigar while he rocked. “Aye, that it is. But what worth fighting for isn’t, boy?”

  Andre, studying the toes of his boots, glanced at Limey through his unbound hair. “Losing your ballocks, son?”

  Limey’s head shot up, eyes blazing. “Not hardly, you drunken whoreson—”

  “Watch your language, sailor,” growled Louis, coming to his feet and flicking his cigar over the rail. Capturing his first mate’s conciliatory look, he continued. “That’s me son you’re maligning. Let alone his parentage.”

  “This infighting will only sentence the endeavor to failure, mis amigos,” intoned de Gallo, rising to his feet while exhaled cheroot smoke wreathed his head. Le Commandant, nodded and relaxed in his chair once more.

  Slanting a raised-brow glance at his first mate, Andre shrugged. “You speak truth, mon ami. He turned to the bristling Brit. “My apologies, Monsieur. I meant no disrespect. However, it is a brilliant plan. One we can execute with help of mesdames and mademoiselles,no?"

  “It is dangerous for the Lius,” Limey put forward. “If they fail, or are captured, we are in worse shape than before.”

  “I don’t plan on failure, mon ami Zheng will be killed, and by my hand, that I promise. Andre’s icy confidence brooked no disagreement. “But you, sir, might endanger the whole exercise with your sudden tendre for the younger Liu. That we cannot have.”

  Limey shuffled his feet. “I don’t see why she has to be part of the invasion.”

  Andre interrupted, voice rising in skepticism. “You really do not? Her grandfather was slaughtered, her father murdered, she lives in exile when her family should be leaders, and you cannot see the importance of her inclusion? Amazing. You need to change one of two things, mon ami—either the kind of les femmes you become attracted to, or your attitude toward women in general. You always fall for strong ones, mate, and then want to protect them. That just doesn’t work.

  One beat, two. Finally, Limey looked out to sea, mumbled, “Mayhap you’re right.”

  Andre leaned sideways, cupping a hand behind his ear. “What? I didn’t quite hear you.”

  “Leave the lad be, mon fils he understands now. what concerns me most, however, is whether the two of you can come off as legitimate tradesmen. you, Limey, though your skin is dark enough, you’ll have to cover your hair. Your height is an issue. perhaps I—"

  “Papa, as you just said, ‘leave the lad be.’ I promise I will bring him back unscathed. However, I do require my first mate’s presence as well. He will lend a certain credence to the whole event. And you, mon père, will be in charge of the pirate faction this coup. Don’t discount your role affair.

  Louis stood, approached Andre. “I want to be on the front line, mon cher fils. I want to be near you, help you. I have lost a dear daughter-in-law already to that butcher. I could not stand it if I lost you and was not there to save you or to help bring him down."

  Andre blinked and stared into his father’s eyes. Shaken by the strength of sentiment behind his father’s words, he reached up and cupped the old pirate’s cheek with one hand. “You humble me, Papa. However, you are too recognizable. Once we are in and have the exterior sentries removed, you will join us. Join with me. You know where I’ll be. Madame Liu has already told us where Zheng is every Friday morning—in his meditation room, with a bare minimum of guards. That is where you and our reinforcements will rally.

  “Do not fear, mon père, I will not fail. I owe it to Sophie, and myself, also you."

  Their gazes held a few moments more, before Louis turned his head and kissed Andre’s palm where it lay against his face before stepping back. “It is late, gentlemen. We must retire. It is only two days until our planned attack, with much to do. Rest while you can. Good night.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Who goes there?”

  The wagon of concubine warriors had made slow and steady progress from the Liu living quarters that morning. Andre had to admit the women had taken to heart his admonishment that they must look the part of concubines. Each woman wore paint upon her eyes, resembling china dolls. They also wore their brightly colored silk pantaloons and vests, but all had removed their tunics. A lot of pale, translucent skin was visible, and some of them filled out their vests better than others. He was well pleased with their disguises. Now, they faced the ultimate test of their subterfuge.

  Zheng’s overweight sentries barked their order in guttural Chinese, pointing deadly bows at both Andre’s and Limey’s hearts. Although his Chinese was limited to talking women into bed, Andre could guess the guards’ meaning. He jumped down from the seat he shared with the taciturn Limey.

  “Well you should ask, my friends,” he replied, fighting to camouflage his French accent as he rubbed his palms together and began to pace before the guards. De Gallo lounged at the back of the wagon, smoking one of his ever-present cheroots. “We come bearing examples of the finest Chinese consorts this side of the Great Wall. Their beauty is beyond compare. Come, my doves, show your assets to these fine men, so that they may decide if the great and powerful Zheng would be satisfied with your beauty. Chop, chop. Let’s go.”

  He waved his hands as previously selected women clambered down from the wagon to move to the head of the ox. He took the chance to pat each woman’s derrière as she passed him. The last one he tapped was Madame Liu, who shot a fiery glance at his wide-eyed gaze. She curled her lip and then smiled at the guards.

  The sentries stared at the women striking provocative poses before them. Andre almost purred his contentment at how well the female soldiers were manipulating this confrontation. He continued with his prattle.

  “Your master could have his pick of these fine specimens. Perhaps even keep every one of them. They are all of childbearing age, and young enough to train the way he would want them to grow—”

  At that moment, something whizzed past his ear, whistling with speed and accuracy. He yelped and jumped back, as some metal object imbedded itself into one of the sentries’ forehead. Before that man could fall, another spinning weapon whirred past the other side of Andre, burying itself into the opposing guard’s forehead. After a three-count, both men toppled to the ground.

  With disbelieving eyes he looked first at Limey, who’d sat up in s
imilar shock, and then at the waiting female warriors. “ que diable?

  His voice cracked as he shifted his gaze from one woman to the next, until Madame Liu sidled up to him, explaining, “throwing stars. We don’t have all day to listen your palaver, Captain Dubois. Let’s go."

  As she walked by him, she patted him on the behind much as he’d done earlier to her. The women giggled, slanting sloe-eyed gazes at him as they climbed back into the back of the wagon. He blinked, shook his head to clear it, and then stared once more at the dead lookouts before grabbing the gate keys from one of their belts and opening the lock to the gate.

  Limey clucked to the ox, averting his eyes from the dead guards, while Andre climbed up beside him. “I am sincerely glad we are on their side, I, Monsieur? I’d definitely like some of those toys they threw. For now, we need to get out sight. Those can’t be the only exterior guards."

  The wagon rolled through the gates, with de Gallo pulling them closed behind them

  ~*~

  They were in.

  Somehow, the cockamamie story his son had cooked up had gotten them into the compound for an audience with the great Zheng. The women now let Louis and his pirates in through windows and side doors. They sliced open the lookouts’ throats whenever those men got curious, or skewered them with throwing weapons.

  Many of the pirates’ munitions had been stowed away inside the false bottom of the wagon, and it had taken several attempts to pull them free. Everyone was armed now. Amazed, Louis halted his progress through the halls more than once in order to watch the Chinese women make short work of Zheng’s sentries. It was obvious the Liu faction had been practicing for a coup for some time by the way they swept through Zheng’s compound like the Black Plague.

  Following Madame Liu, who had been as good her word and the one to fetch him, Louis fell back against wall when one of patrol guards came unannounced around a corner. Liu took care of him with her small knife.

  As the guard collapsed to the floor, blood gurgling out of his slit throat, she stepped over his body, wiping her blade. With a shrug, Louis followed suit. Everyone knew to converge on the inner chambers of Zheng’s living quarters.

  While they walked side by side, Louis whispered, “Your people are very good at what they do, ma chérie. Why didn’t you do this earlier and regain your leadership?"

  Eyes scanning from right to left she replied, “Because this is as big of a crew I’ve ever had. We needed more numbers in order to pull this off. The only reason we are getting this far is because Zheng already knows we are here and is playing cat and mouse with us. He wants us to get far enough inside that we can’t escape.

  “But I don’t think he realizes just how many of us there actually are. I hope he gets so cocky he doesn’t call all his assassins, thinking he can get rid of us with his usual staff.”

  Louis snorted, striding beside Madame Liu, his coat tails rustling and sword jangling as they moved down the hall at right angles to Zheng’s quarters. What Madame Liu said made sense. He himself had been perturbed at the lack of resistance they'd encountered up to this point. Now it made sense.

  Before they reached the corner, they heard a booming, familiar voice from inside Zheng’s antechamber. Louis muttered a curse, picking up his pace.

  “Where’s the mighty Zheng? Where is that bloody, murdering bugger? He and I have an appointment—”

  “Mère de dieu," Louis breathed, while he and Madame Liu peered down the side corridor. They spied de Gallo leaning against the outer wall with sword extended, staring through the open chamber doorway where Andre was. He put a finger to his lips as they approached him.

  “What happened to all the stealth he was harping about?” complained Louis, but everyone was saved a reply when the sound of running footsteps neared them. Two of Zheng’s men rounded the corner, alerted by Andre’s loud voice. The Chinese guards skidded to a stop, drawing their swords as they spied Louis and Pedro. Neither noticed Madame Liu standing apart from them.

  Yelling some Chinese war cry, both sentries advanced, wearing wicked grins under long, drooping mustaches and heavy, pointed helmets. Louis and de Gallo moved into ready stances, resigned to the fact that even with Madame Liu waiting to surprise attack, they would still have to engage in a skirmish.

  “En garde, you heathens," Louis cried.

  ~*~

  “Come out where I can see you, you filthy, cowering piece of fish entrails,” challenged Andre. He’d entered an octagonal-shaped antechamber bathed in daylight from rectangular windows placed high in the walls. The room housed prayer cushions, an altar where potent incense burned, and robed men standing at attention along the walls.

  Those men crouched as soon as they saw Andre, but none moved forward, waiting, he guessed, for their leader to give the order. Better, for him, he thought as he crept, one foot after the other, farther into the room. He checked for unseen entrances or places where people could ambush him, while the watchful eyes of Zheng’s minions tracked his progress. A stealthy click somewhere along the wall caused him to freeze and crouch in mid-stride.

  A giant of a Chinese man appeared. Zheng. It had to be. No other bugger in this country could look so menacing and not be Zheng. Andre slowly straightened, assessed the man, and found himself wanting. The barbarous leader was a tree.

  He was bald, with a mustache and long, twisted goatee. He had no hair on his chest, which he displayed proudly under an open, red silk vest. Andre guessed the warlord’s legs were just as powerful, though matching red silk pantaloons covered them. His large feet were bare.

  “So, you received my message, Andre Dubois, son of the Commandant. You made good time.” Zheng’s voice rang in the domed space as he stood, feet spread shoulder width apart, bulging arms crossed over his chest. After careful thought, Andre sheathed his sword. Perhaps a mistake, but he did not want to look nervous while conversing with his wife’s murderer.

  “Aye, that I did. I couldn’t wait to see what you’d done with the place since last I’d been here.” He paused, glancing around before meeting Zheng’s irritated, watchful gaze once more. “It needs a woman’s touch.”

  Zheng’s mouth tightened and his hands clenched under his armpits. Good, that meant Andre was getting under his skin. He continued. “Oh, I remember now. You lack a wife. And, thanks to you, so do I.”

  “An eye for an eye, Frenchman. Yet somehow I knew you wouldn’t accept the trade-off.”

  Andre stepped sideways before answering. Zheng moved opposite him. Neither pulled their swords yet.

  “There are three flaws to your way of thinking, mon ami. Would you like me to elaborate?" Andre paused. Zheng inclined his head, though indrawn breath clued that the Formosan pirate was not as calm he pretended.

  Ticking the numbers off on his fingers Andre began, “One—I had no idea Lijuan was your wife. Anyone’s wife. She came on to me, mate. How was I to resist such tragic beauty? If you ignore a woman, she’s going to find some way to amuse herself. How could I say no?

  “Two—she was already with child when she came to me. I don’t sow my seed in another man’s row, as the saying goes. Ergo, she was carrying your child.”

  Zheng glanced down at something hanging from his belted sash. Something dried and shrunken. He raised angry, glittering eyes to meet Andre’s as he fingered the object, which looked like—no, it couldn’t be—Andre gulped as he asked, pointing one not-quite-steady finger, “That isn’t what I think it is, is it?”

  Letting loose of the shrunken object Zheng growled, “Yes, it is the child from my whore-of-a-wife’s womb. Your child. Do not try to deceive me.” His chest rose and fell like a bellows.

  Andre could not lift his eyes from the dead fetus hanging on the butcher’s belt. Only a barbarian would do such a thing. Wetting suddenly dry lips, he wrenched his gaze up to that savage’s face and attempted his earlier flippancy.

  “I’m sorry, mate. It was safe for us to...fraternize, because you’d already done the deed. How does it feel to know you
murdered your own child?”

  When their gazes locked this time, Andre knew Zheng was close to erupting. All he needed was to push the philistine a little more and he’d lose that ironclad control.

  He returned to his previous list as if they’d never digressed. “And lastly—you decide to kill my wife to get even, although it was your wife that strayed. I didn’t go looking for her. You hid behind a youth’s knickers to kill my wife, after killing your own baby. You are one sick, cowardly, son-of-a-b—”

  He never finished the expletive because, with a roar, Zheng lost control and brandished his broadsword, leaping at Andre with a murderous lunge. Only his lightning quick reflexes saved Andre from being cut in two.

  He yanked his own sword free, danced back on light feet. He feinted forward and backed off, just out of reach of the bigger man, whose realization that he’d killed his only heir led his attack.

  Now they circled each other uninterrupted. Zheng’s men stood at the ready along the walls, waiting for their leader to give them the order to attack. He didn’t.

  With sweat beginning to bead on the Chinese warrior’s forehead, Andre decided to goad him into making a fatal mistake. As they moved faster, each looking for an opening, he quipped, “I wasn’t your wife’s first, y’know. She’d been cuckolding you long before me. I was just the best.” With that verbal jibe, he leaped forward with a nimble riposte, jumping out of reach before the broadsword could cut off something valuable. As sweat dripped from his nose, and angry, rutting, bear-like noises rumbled from his mouth, Zheng pursued Andre around the room, hacking away with his weapon.

  Andre impeded the attempts with two-handed blocks. Blades clanged, while guttural grunts punctuated their attacks as they each searched for that moment, that split second when the other let down his guard.

  Spinning, swirling, always just out of reach, Andre felt his power waning. Holding off Zheng’s attacks was taking its toll on him. Sweat streamed down his face, between his shoulder blades, and his arms trembled every time their swords clanged together.