by Lorri Dudley
Nathan glanced at her, but returned his focus to Lafitte quickly. “Fielding kidnapped my wife because she overheard his plans. Someone informed me of Fielding’s intention to sell her to bring in more coin.”
“Julia.” Captain Fielding bit out. “She will pay for her loose lips.”
“Is she the woman outside?” Captain Dominique asked.
“Julia is Fielding’s wife.” Nathan lifted his chin. “By now, she has probably reached Florida and sold the house they built there with their smuggling profits. She plans to use the money from the sale to begin a new life.” He turned his attention to Fielding. “She promised to repay me for the merchandise you stole.”
Fielding’s eyes blazed. He swiped at an empty chair, and it fell on its side with a crash. “That money is mine. Not yours. She has no right.” He charged around the table toward Nathan.
Nathan pushed Lottie behind him, shielding her with his body.
“My grandfather plowed the sugar fields of St. Kitts long before you. The fortune your father made off sugar should have been mine.”
“Your grandfather sold that land to pay down his gambling debts.” Nathan sounded calm, but his muscles tensed under her fingers like coiled springs. “I hold the deed to prove it.” He extracted a scrolled paper out of his jacket and held it up.
Lafitte sauntered over and plucked the deed from Nathan’s fingers. He scanned it quickly, then looked at Fielding. “It is the deed to his lands, signed over by one Jacob Lewis Fielding on August 8, 1773.” He re-rolled the paper. “Tell me, Winthrop, do you always travel with the deeds to your land?”
“I believed it may be needed as a bargaining chip.”
Lafitte paced back and forth, tapping the rolled deed into the palm of his hand. “For what did you plan to bargain?”
“My wife.”
Lottie gasped and stepped out from behind Nathan. “No, not your father’s lands.” She gripped his arm. “Not the legacy you’ve worked so hard to protect.”
“What if that is not enough?” Lafitte stopped pacing and faced Nathan.
“Then I shall offer my ships, the Katherine and the Amory.”
Her heart dropped into her slippers. “Nathan, you can’t sell your ships. What will you do?”
“The Katherine is damaged. What of the British ship?” Nez Coupe asked.
“I borrowed the British frigate, but I will find a way to pay my country back.”
“No.” Lottie tugged harder on Nathan’s arm, but he ignored her. She pleaded with Captain Dominique. “You can’t let him do this.”
The man merely shrugged.
She strode to Jean Lafitte himself. “Please, you can’t ask this of him. I’m not worth it.”
A spark lit Jean Lafitte’s eyes. “I believe Winthrop feels differently.” He reached out and fingered a strand of her hair.
Lottie swallowed.
Lafitte raised a brow at Nathan. “A woman with titian hair and fair of face is a prize indeed. She can bring me some hefty coin.”
Nathan’s fingers coiled and uncoiled by his sides. “I would draw more coin as a laborer. Take me.”
“No!” Lottie screamed.
Captain Fielding laughed an ugly, bitter sound.
She dropped to her knees at Jean Lafitte’s feet. “You can’t possibly mean to do this. Please, I beg you.”
“Justice for my father has come full circle.” Fielding’s chest lifted.
Lafitte growled a low menacing sound. “Show this man the splendor of our backyard.”
Nez Coupe stepped toward Captain Fielding.
“Winthrop reduced to an indentured servant.” Fielding ignored Nez Coupe, refusing to budge. “If only Father were here to celebrate your fall from grace.”
Nez Coupe shoved him toward the door, and Fielding sobered.
“Hold!” Captain Phelps rose. His wide eyes bounced between Lafitte’s and Fielding’s. His pale face indicated he understood the labyrinth of alligator-filled swamps and marshes that consisted of Grand Terre’s backyard. Suddenly, he snatched his sidearm and pointed it at Jean Lafitte.
The double doors behind Lottie and Laffite flung open.
“I demand to see my daughter!”
Lottie stared at the sight in the doorway. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Mama strode into the room, Shorty in tow. She wacked Shorty on the arm with her umbrella. “Stay back. I’m tired of waiting. My patience has run out.”
Nez Coupe used the distraction to dive across the table at Captain Phelps’s midsection, tackling him. Dishes and glasses shattered on the floor. Phelps’s pistol flew from his fingers, bounced off the table past Nathan and Captain Dominique, and skidded across the floor, stopping in the folds of Lottie’s skirts.
Lottie fumbled for the pistol, raising it, along with a fold of her gown, into the air.
Fielding drew his sidearm, but instead of aiming at Lafitte, he pointed it at Nathan.
“Get down!” Nathan yanked the back of Captain Dominique’s shirt and pulled him down to the floor.
Lottie closed her eyes.
The loud crack of a gun jerked her back. The floor shook as a body thumped against the ground.
Her eyes sprung open, and she lowered the gun.
She’d never fired.
Nathan’s heart slammed into his chest. For a split-second, Fielding’s eyes had narrowed and shifted to Lottie. A bolt of terror slammed through his body, helpless to save his beloved who hadn’t seen the new threat.
He scrambled on his knees to get to her, but a gun discharged. Lottie opened her eyes and lowered her weapon. A stream of black smoke poured from the end of Jean Lafitte’s gun.
Blood pooled beneath Fielding’s body.
Nathan snatched her against his chest. His whole being shook as he wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Don’t look.” He tried to block her view by pressing her face into his shoulder.
Nez Coupe grabbed Fielding’s legs and dragged him around the table towards the servant’s entrance.
Two of Lafitte’s men held Captain Phelps’s arms behind his back and roughly pushed him out the door.
“Are you all right?” Nathan asked.
She nodded, though he could feel her trembling in his arms.
“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Lady Etheridge’s voice boomed. “This is some welcome.” Her eyes landed on her daughter, still kneeling on the floor, and her lips pursed. “Stand up, Charlotte. Etheridges don’t lie about on the ground getting their gowns dirty like scullery maids.”
Nathan rose and pulled Lottie up with him, careful to make certain her legs could support her before he released his hold.
“And stop slouching,” she added.
Jean Lafitte pushed back his jacket and holstered his weapon. Shorty tried to take hold of Lady Etheridge’s arm, but she jabbed at him with the pointy end of her umbrella.
Lottie’s chin raised, and she stepped forward. “Mama. Put down your umbrella before you hurt someone. Our host will believe us to be ill-mannered guests.”
Shorty’s head drew back. “Mama?”
“What has come over you?” Mama said. “Etheridges don’t—”
“I am not an Etheridge any longer.” Lottie entwined her arm with Nathan’s.
A smile twitched at the corners of Nathan’s lips. He couldn’t have been prouder. His wife had stood up to a roomful of pirates, a traitorous scoundrel, and now her own overbearing mother.
“I believe some late introductions are in order.” Jean Lafitte stepped forward.
Nathan could no longer contain his smile as Lottie reverted to a well-mannered English socialite.
“Mama, may I introduce you to Captain Jean Lafitte of Grand Terre.”
Her mother nodded.
“Captain, this is my mother, Lady Etheridge.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Jean Lafitte bowed. “Your daughter is an amazing woman. I’m certain you are proud.”
“Indeed.” Lady Etheridge curtsied low.
“She retained the best qualities of her father and me.”
Lottie glowed with pleasure, and the sight stirred a great need in Nathan’s belly.
“This is Monsieur Pierre Lafitte, Captain Lafitte’s brother.” Lottie stepped back. “And this is my dear friend, Captain Dominique You.”
Lady Etheridge dipped her head to each man, and they bowed in return.
Jean, ever the elegantly mannered gentleman Nathan remembered from his youth, gestured toward the door. “I’m certain you must be tired after such a long journey. Why don’t we retire to the shade of the porch, and I’ll have refreshments served? We can finish our business where there’s a better breeze and less of a mess.” He turned to his men. “You may resume your duties. The threat is gone.”
As the men filed out of the room, Jean stopped Nathan with a questioning look. “I’m grateful you sought to save my man back there”—Jean raised a brow—“but have you forgotten my dueling skills?”
He shook his head. “I have not.”
“Do you believe my fingers have slowed or my aim become less true?”
“No.”
“Why then did you seek cover? Fielding was dead before his fingers found the trigger.”
“I wasn’t worried Fielding would get off a shot. I was frightened my wife would.”
An abrupt laugh escaped Lottie’s lips, which she quickly covered with a cough.
“I do not understand.” Jean’s gaze pivoted between Nathan and Lottie.
Lottie swallowed her laughter. “I daresay my husband was frightened because, when I aim, everything in the room is in harm’s way.” She lost the battle against her smile. Mirth shimmered in her eyes.
Jean nodded to Nathan. “You have my gratitude for protecting my man, and you, madame”—he nodded at Lottie—"for not pulling the trigger.”
Out in the hall, Anthony rose from a chair.
“Captain Middleton?” Lottie’s slender brows drew together. “What are you doing here?”
“Quaking in his boots.” Lady Etheridge wrinkled her nose. “He didn’t have the courage to enter a room full of pirates.”
“Privateers.” Nathan covered her gaff
“Corsairs.” Jean Lafitte corrected at the same time, but his temper didn’t show itself.
“Aren’t they one and the same?” Lady Etheridge frowned.
“No, Mama.” Lottie slipped a hand through her mother’s arm. “A privateer is commissioned by a country to raid foreign ships and protect the homeland from enemy combatants.”
“I see. I beg your pardon, Captain Lafitte.” She peered over her shoulder at Middleton. “Come along, Middleton, don’t dawdle.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to her daughter. “I’m pleased you never married him. The man lacks a spine. He could never be half the man Winthrop turned out to be.”
Had that been a compliment? Nathan gave himself a mental shake. No, he couldn’t give Lady Etheridge that much credit.
They resettled into wicker chairs under an oscillating fan. Anthony pouted in the corner. A large empty hammock swung gently in the breeze. The sun shone off the water and the white sails of Lafitte’s fleet. Nathan scooped Lottie’s hand in his. He needed to touch her, keep her close, and memorize the feel of her. He needed to take in every detail in her face, her expressive blue eyes, the brightness of her smile, the creaminess of her skin. He’d need to cling to this moment, for it may be the last he saw of her.
Lady Etheridge crossed her ankles and locked her gaze on Captain Lafitte. “What is this nonsense I overheard regarding my daughter and son-in-law?”
“Un moment, s’il vous plaît.” Jean passed the scrolled deed to Nathan.
He accepted it but didn’t put it away. “Why are you returning this?”
“You do not believe I would accept any payment from a man who saved my life?”
Nathan’s brow furrowed. “That was a long time ago, my friend. I thought perhaps you’d forgotten.”
“How could I forget a debt I owe to a friend who’d dive into jellyfish-infested waters to save a man?”
“Why the show, then?”
“I was merely curious to see what you’d be willing to sacrifice for her. She is a rare gem.”
Nathan lowered his head nodding. “Indeed.”
“Captain Lafitte.” Lady Etheridge rose, and the men rose with her. “I would love a tour of your charming estate, and I do believe Middleton would like to return to his ship. They have far to sail before morning.”
Jean didn’t smile. He never had smiled much, but his eyes danced with mirth. Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he’d underestimated Lady Etheridge.
She opened her parasol. “We shall also need passage for my son-in-law’s crew to be taken to the Amory where they will await their new captain.” She nodded at Nathan. “Captain Winthrop.”
A servant escorted Middleton to a fisherman who’d row him out to the bay. Jean offered Lady Etheridge his arm, but before descending the steps to the lawn he eyed Nathan, “Lena will show you to your room when you’re ready.” He winked, or at least, Nathan believed he caught the wily look before Jean turned and pointed in the direction of the temple, explaining the large draw of the auctions. They strolled the grounds as Jean pointed out different islands nearby.
Lottie stared at Nathan’s chest, and her hands slid into the folds of her gown. She was nervous. He’d grown fond of her endearing habits. God, he loved her. She was a woman of strength and firm faith. He slid onto his knees.
She bit her lower lip, and her eyes grew misty.
He enfolded her hands in his. “I’m sorry I’ve held back on telling you what has been in my heart for some time. Those things I said, the things I offered, I would give them up in a heartbeat for you. You are worth all of it and so much more.” He pressed one of her palms against his cheek. “I love you, Lottie Winthrop. I’ve been blind and hardheaded. I don’t deserve to be blessed with your love, and I will thank God for the rest of my days for putting you in my life.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“And if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life ensuring you know the truth of it.”
She slid to her knees in front of him and raised her palm to his cheek. “I love you, Nathaniel Winthrop, I promise to hold you to it.”
A husky chuckle rumbled deep in his throat, and he gently brushed his lips against hers before capturing them in a kiss meant to sear their souls together. By the end, they were both breathless. Desire blazed in Lottie’s eyes and matched the fire deep in his belly.
He issued Lena a slight nod and pulled Lottie to her feet. “Etheridges don’t kneel.”
"You're right." Her eyes danced, and a slow smile spread across her lips. "But I am a Winthrop."
Pride lifted his chest. “Then I yield to you, Lady Winthrop.” He crushed her to him for another smoldering kiss.
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Here’s a sneak peek at the next book in The Leeward Islands Series!
* * *
The Sugar Baron’s Ring
* * *
A ring is her only tie to a distant homeland, until a marooned Englishman anchors her heart.
Chapter One
Off the Coast of Nevis, Leeward Islands
April 1829
By day, the ocean blue sparkles with life, and sails fill with promise. Under the black curtain of night, the crewman fill tankards to cope with the monsters lurking beneath, the ones within and the ones below.
~ Journaled the 4th of April, 1829
If he lost his journal, he lost his future. Bradlee Miles Granville’s hand grasped thin air as the leather-bound book slipped from his fingers. His writings were his only chance to prove he wasn�
��t an irresponsible disgrace to his family name. The journal landed with a thud and skidded across the weathered floorboards, dangerously close to the spilt tankard of ale. His shoulder slammed against the ship’s rail, and he winced. The hull emitted a groan followed by the crack of splintering wood. The eerie sounds raised the hair on the back of his neck and tingled his scalp, distracting him from the pain.
“Hound’s teeth!” Colin Fitzroy pushed himself up from off the deck and frowned at the black stripe from the contents of Bradlee’s inkwell, now staining his white muslin shirt. Whether his impeccably groomed grand tour companion swore due to the ship hitting bottom or over his ruined shirt was still to be determined.
The scraping of the ship’s bottom as it ground against what must have been a coral reef held the same pitch as fingernails down slate and continued for almost a full minute. The stench of ale and rum wafted under his nose, blending with the briny air. Inebriated sailors cursed as the contents of their tankards puddled about their feet. The billowing white sails deflated, and the familiar whistling of the wind ceased, along with any forward progression.
The contents of one of the spilt tankards ran down a seam in the planks toward Bradlee’s journal. He snatched it up and examined the pages to make certain the ink hadn’t smeared, breathing a sigh of relief when his research notes from his travels appeared unaffected. He slid it into his knapsack for protection.
The ship could merely be stranded on a reef, or it could be capsizing.
Blood surged through Bradlee’s veins, quickening his pulse. He hooked Colin under his arm, dragging him to a stand.
Colin’s eyes widened. “The ship didn’t just… Please tell me…” He raked a hand through his windblown hair and groaned.
“Sink me!” The captain cussed from the helm. He fumbled with his hat and plopped it back on his head. It fell over one eye. With his other hand, he wiped the ale off the front of his shirt. “We’ve run-agrounds.” The captain slurred his commands, “Goeth below tah see if her keel hasth been breached.” He grabbed the first mate’s lapel and shook him, but in his foxed state, lost his balance and toppled the crewman in the process.