“Nate.” She whimpered.
Fury overtook his face. “Those bastards are going to regret this.” He vowed. He pulled his pistol, jammed it through the broken pane, and fired.
Claire hoped he killed the rotten scallywag, or injured him in the most painful way. Whoever was doing this deserved to suffer greatly.
“Here, Nate.” Claire slid her pistol across the floor to his feet. She trusted her husband to do what needed to be done but, for the moment, she had other priorities. She couldn’t lose the only home she’d had since she’d been left at the orphanage.
Racing ahead, she beat at the flames. They weren’t so very big. If everyone came and helped, they could save the house. The towel snapped with each whip of her arm and nervous laughter bubbled from her throat. “We can do this, Nate. We can—”
“Bloody hell.” Nate cursed. He fired off another shot and the sound was still ringing in her ears when he once again grabbed her around the waist. “We need to get out of here.” He lifted her off her feet and ran from the kitchen.
“No! Nate, we can stop it! If we just—”
Once clear of the kitchen, Nate slammed the door closed and set Claire on her feet. His eyes were cold. “They’re burning our house, Claire. We need to get out.”
“It’s made of brick. If we—”
He grabbed her shoulders, shook her. “The inside’s made of wood and it’s burning. We can’t contain it. It’s spreading too fast. Claire, it’s just a house. We have to get everyone out.”
Her eyes welled. “It’s our home.”
“All I need is you and the children.” He kissed her hard. “Now let’s get out while we still can.”
*
Sweat poured in his eyes, stung like the devil. Cale wiped away the moisture as best he could, but his sleeve was drenched with it and he accomplished little more than smearing it about his face. He’d stumbled more than once. He’d had to stop, use a tree trunk to keep from falling face first into the undergrowth. His back teeth were likely nothing more than stubs by now but he’d managed not to wretch. So far.
He made it to the cache. The lid was off, most of the weapons, including the firepots, were gone. Hell, he hoped it was their side that had the firepots. No good could come from Roche or his men having gotten their hands on them. Concentrating on his own plan, he looked down at the bow, quiver of arrows, and three measly swords. He slung the quiver over his shoulder.
From the house came the sharp sound of glass shattering.
He jerked his head, cursed himself when it swam on top of his shoulders. He wasted precious seconds waiting for the world to right itself. Then, bow in hand, he plowed through the jungle until he’d reached the edge of growth, then he slowed. It wouldn’t do to come this far only to get shot as he lurched from cover.
Fear rose from his toes until it choked him. Holy, Mother of God they were burning the house. A perfect line of fire, as though someone had spread gunpowder along the grass, ran the entire length of the back of the house. Flames flicked from the broken kitchen window and suddenly he knew with sickening clarity what the firepots were being used for.
Grace was inside. So was Aidan. Hell, so were the children, the innocent babes who’d always looked a bit scared of him because he’d been determined to remain untouchable. All but Will. Despite Cale’s determination, Will had not only managed to climb the wall Cale had built around his heart, he’d obliterated it. Because he’d reminded him of Caden.
Suddenly, a man came round the far corner of the house, a firepot in his hands. The fuse glowed red. Damnation! Before Cale could do more than grab an arrow, the enemy raced forward, hurling the firepot through another window as he passed. More glass shattered. Then, to Cale’s satisfaction, he saw a pistol jut from the other broken window and fire. The shot missed its target. As the man sped in his direction, he passed the bonfire and light illuminated his face.
Isaac.
Cale snarled and notched the arrow as another shot fired from the house.
He wasn’t the shot Aidan was, wasn’t sure anyone could be, but he knew how to use a bow and, at times like this, appreciated the fact that, relics or not, arrows had their place. He’d kill Isaac without ever revealing his position. He raised the bow, cursed viciously at the pain shooting through his side, then looked down the length of the shaft and opened his fingers. The arrow whooshed toward its target, a silent bullet in the dark. It caught Isaac in the chest—Aidan would have caught him in the throat, Cale thought with pride. Isaac staggered, looked down at what had struck him then fell to the ground.
Cale didn’t waste more time. With the back of the house on fire his friends would need to pour out the front. And if Roche was close, and Cale would bet his life he was, the man wouldn’t hesitate to cut everyone down in order to get to Grace.
As the jungle swayed around him and the ground undulated beneath him, he prayed he’d stay conscious long enough to help.
*
The maids poured from the cellar, ashen-faced children in their arms or hanging onto their skirts. The infants wailed, the younger children cried and fussed while the adults talked all at once as they tried to make sense of what was happening. There was no reason for Nate’s home to be attacked, Blake said. He hadn’t been Steele in years and it seemed unlikely someone would have made the connection now. Which meant he wasn’t the target, Aidan reasoned. Steele could be, Luke ventured, but it would have been easier to attack him at sea. Why follow him here where he had a chance to hide?
Whoever was attacking them wanted them to come out of the house, Nate concluded. But why?
Grace pressed her cold fingers to her lips. It had to be Roche. And if it was, then ’twasn’t Steele he was after, ’twas her.
Hadn’t Nate said just last night that Roche would come after her? Cale had been quick to dismiss the possibility and she’d foolishly latched onto his certainty. She’d desperately wanted to believe she was rid of the scoundrel forever. Blast it, she should have known better. After months of witnessing his abuse, suffering at his hand, and learning just how vindictive Roche could be, why had she thought once she was off his ship he’d leave her alone? And now he’d found her…
If Roche got a hold of her now, the only way he’d spare her life would be if she told him of the child. She bit her lip to keep from crying. It would guarantee her life for another few months but no longer and her son or daughter would never know its mother. Her child would live, though from what she’d learned of his other child’s life, it wouldn’t be much of a life. A child wasn’t supposed to be some kind of prize to be kept locked away but for a few times a year when it was taken out and admired. A life without love, she’d come to realize, was no kind of life at all.
Her muscles trembled with the need to burst from the house and run until she couldn’t run any longer, until her breath wheezed from her lungs and her legs could no longer support her. She could run to the main harbor, stow away on a ship—any ship—and get as far away from Roche as possible.
She hugged herself because she knew she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. These people had welcomed her, treated her like family. Around them, she’d felt as though she’d finally found the woman she wanted to be. They were her friends and what kind of person would she be if she not only fled, but also left them to suffer on her behalf? They were innocent in this and she wouldn’t stand by and see them hurt because of what she’d brought to their door.
For once, Grace was going to do the unselfish thing. Since their indenture began, she’d done nothing but think of herself and what was best for Grace, what Grace wanted. No more. Her da had raised her better, despite the fact she hadn’t acted as such. She intended to make up for it now. Aidan had risen above his past, as had Cale. They’d both become trustworthy, loving, and giving. If she was going to die, then, like Colin, she intended to die with honor.
They were gathered in the entryway. They had quieted while she’d been thinking but the sound of the fire chomping closer had increased. The smoke
was thickening and her throat was raw with it; several of them had begun to cough. The children were huddled around their parents, their eyes wide and bursting with fear. Grace knew the time had come. She wiped her palms on her skirt, walked to the stairway. It was Aidan’s eyes she looked into when she stood on the bottom step and spoke.
“’Tis me they are after, not you,” she called out.
Luke cut through the ensuing silence first. “How is that?”
“I was a prisoner on Roche’s ship before Cale attacked and took me from it. Cale sank Roche’s ship but clearly the man found another.”
“Santiago?” Luke hissed. “Bloody hell.”
“You can’t be sure,” Blake argued, “and we don’t have time to figure it out. We need to get out of here.”
“Has Steele ever been followed here before?” she asked.
“No,” Nate answered.
“Then it stands to reason, does it not? It can’t be pure happenstance that the one time Steele is followed here happens to be after he attacked Roche’s ship.”
Aidan was already shaking his head. “Grace—”
“Listen! I’ve sailed on the man’s ship, I’ve seen his temper. He holds grudges and he forgives no one. If he’s out there, if he’s already gotten to Cale—” She choked on a sob before she could continue. “If ’tis be the case,” She managed. “Then ’tis me he’s after now and he’ll not be taking the rest of you. I’ll not pay that price. I’ll barter with him.”
Ignoring the questions, the hollowed looks of fear and worry, Grace strode through them, leaned against the side of the cabinet blocking the door and strained to shove it out of the way. She was cold, so very cold she could barely feel her fingers, but she’d made up her mind.
“Grace, we’ll think of another plan,” Aidan said.
Wood cracked and hissed as the fire chewed its way toward them. Thick, black smoke rolled along the ceiling.
Grace pointed to it. “Aidan, time’s run out. Help me get this out of the way. Please. I’ll only go through a window if you don’t.”
He didn’t want to do it, ’twas plain on his face, but when she gathered herself to push again, he sighed and helped her shove the cabinet out of the way. Then, before he could try to change her mind, and before she lost her courage, Grace reached for the knob.
“Step back!”
“Dammit, woman!” Luke growled, as he pushed Samantha behind him.
Grace opened the door a sliver and yelled through the opening. “If you want me, Roche, you need to let the others go.”
Peering out, moonlight caught several bodies on the ground. Don’t be Cale. She prayed. Please, Lord, don’t let Cale be among the dead. Because the possibility was real that he was, and the thought was enough to send her rushing from body to body to ensure none were him, she forced her gaze away.
Easing the door a bit further open, she saw a crew of men racing toward the water. She blew out all the breath in her lungs. Roche’s men were retreating. They had a chance, better now than they’d had since the attack had begun.
She clenched her fingers around the door, counted the thumping beats of her heart. Sweat rolled in cold trickles into the neckline of her gown. What if it wasn’t even Roche? What if she’d assumed wrong? Or, what if it was Roche and he said no, that he wouldn’t release the others? She had no other plan and they were out of options. Sure and she’d seen a fair number of men turn tail and run but there was no way to know how many may have stayed behind.
“If you don’t come out, you’ll die,” Roche answered.
Grace blew out a breath. It was Roche and he was close.
“Aye, and so will your child.” The only way this was going to work was to tell him about the babe.
“I know all about the child, Grace. Why do you think I’m here?”
The only person on Roche’s ship who could have told him was Fitch and he would have only told his captain on pain of death. Culpability wanted to weigh her down, but she didn’t have the luxury of wallowing.
Roche cackled. “Don’t worry Grace, I’ll show you the same mercy I showed Fitch.”
“Grace, don’t,” Claire begged from behind. “We’ll think of another way.”
Grace looked back. The smoke was like black blood oozing into the room. Everyone was coughing now. They were going to have to make a move soon, regardless of Roche’s answer.
“Are you going to let the others go without harm or not?” She repeated. Please, she willed him. Please. For the love of God hurry—
“You have my word,” he hollered. “Come out and I’ll grant the others safety.”
Grace tipped her forehead against the wood. They were almost there.
“They come out first. When I see they’ve reached the safety of the trees, when I hear their call that they’re safe, I’ll come out.”
“Grace! You can’t stay in here much longer, the smoke alone—”
She whirled. “I brought this plague on you and I’ll deal with it. You want to save me? Once he gives his word, run fast.” She looked at Nate. “Take them, get them to safety. Please.”
He nodded as he coughed.
“What will it be?” Grace yelled to Roche, missing, as she did, Aidan’s whispered words to Luke.
“Send them out! I’ll not harm them unless you fail to hold up your end of the bargain or unless some of Steele’s men try anything foolish. Hold fire!” He roared, confirming what Grace feared. He wasn’t alone. “If anybody shoots, I’ll have their head.”
Not an empty threat, Grace knew. “They’re coming now!” Again, she faced the people who had taken her as a friend.
She looked at the children, silent tears streaming down their little faces and knew, no matter what else, she was doing the right thing. Like her da before her, she was giving everything in order to protect those she cared about.
“Go, now. Go!”
They did, touching her arm or squeezing her hand as they slipped through the thin opening of the door. Needles of fear jabbed at her as she watched them leave, Samantha carrying one of Blake and Alicia’s boys, Luke carrying one of their daughters in one arm, Carrack’s cage in the other. Helen nearly tripped over her skirt as she and Daniel raced alongside Alicia, who had a wailing Violet in her arms. Blake was there too, arms wide as though to block any shots.
Every step they took toward safety felt an eternity. Grace braced, trembling as she feared Roche would break his word and fire or one of their own would try something rash. For each one that made it into the jungle, Grace knew a sliver of relief. Behind her, the air was warming, and she could feel the talons of the fire reach for her. Having the door open helped her from choking on the smoke, but she knew it was also drawing the fire toward her.
A hand clasped over mouth.
Grace startled. Panic burst through her veins but the hand over her mouth kept her shriek from escaping.
“It’s all right, Grace. It’s only me.”
Her body sagged. ’Twas Aidan. He lowered his hand and stepped from behind her.
“Roche doesn’t know I’m here. Once he moves from the trees, I’ll shoot him.” He lifted his bow to show what he meant.
“Grace, we’re safe!” Nate yelled from the forest.
She glared at Aidan. “They knew you were going to stay behind.”
“I don’t have a wife or a child. It made sense. And he’d have no reason to believe someone would have stayed behind. Now go, before he suspects.”
“’Tis not only Roche out there. He’ll have others.”
“Trust your friends, Grace. Luke, Nate, even Blake have been in many battles. They’re armed. They’ll keep me safe. They’ll keep you safe as well.”
“I never wanted you hurt, not any of you.”
Though Aidan’s eyes were turning red from the smoke, she nonetheless noticed the affection filling them. “None of this is your fault, and we’ll be fine.”
“Even Cale? We don’t know where he is. He could be anywhere, hurt or—”
&
nbsp; “He’s strong, Grace. Chances are he’s biding his time, same as we are.”
Grace drew in a breath, choked. She coughed until her eyes watered and then managed to wheeze. “If Roche manages to get me to his ship—”
Aidan shook his head. “He won’t.”
“If he does…” She wiped away a tear. “Tell Cale I’ve never met a finer man in me life and I—” Her voice cracked and it took all her strength to gather it again. “I think his wife was lucky to have him.”
“His wife?” Aidan gaped.
Then, before she lost herself to the heartache threatening to drown her, Grace kissed Aidan’s cheek and stepped out into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
No! Cale grabbed onto a nearby trunk, wished he could rip it from its roots, find Roche, the rotten bastard, and slam him across the head with it. He’d done this. He’d made Grace risk her life. Cale had tried to breathe for her as he’d watched the flames climb higher, watched the black smoke billow from the wooden roof. Roche would pay for what he’d done here. As he’d pay for every time he’d struck, hurt, or scared Grace. Then he’d make him hurt more. Just for the sheer pleasure of it.
For now, however, he had to stay put, couldn’t afford to give away his location until he knew Roche’s. He’d heard the man answer Grace and knew he was close. So close Cale could ill afford to make a mistake.
It hadn’t surprised Cale when he’d heard Roche call out for his men to hold fire. Roche was too cunning to be out here alone. He hadn’t attacked without a handful of plans in place. Besides, Cale could feel their presence. The hairs on the back of his neck stood out like quills.
Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance Page 25