by Brenda Novak
“There’s no need to waste lives.” He squinted across the distance. “We’ll make as though we’re hit and pull away. Then we’ll follow at a safe distance and surprise Montague and his crew again before dark.”
Trenton whistled. “That kind of thinking is why you’re captain and I’m not.”
“Trenton?”
Nathaniel’s first mate turned back.
“How sure are you about Anne?”
Trenton shook his head, then spat. “If you would have asked me yesterday, I would have bet my life that we had our girl. I still think she could be none other. She looks like the woman I saw four years ago. And we all watched her go into Madame Fobart’s.”
“Still, I have a feeling—”
“Are you sure it’s not just wishful thinking?” Trenton cocked an eyebrow at his captain. “I’ve seen the way your gaze trails after her, and I don’t mind telling you that it’s got me a little nervous. She can be nothing but trouble for you, Nathaniel.”
“You’ve no need to warn me. I’m not some love-smitten boy, unfamiliar with the realities of life.”
Trenton stared at him for a moment. “Whatever you say,” he replied, and went to deliver the necessary orders.
* * *
Alexandra paced Nathaniel’s cabin, out of her mind with fear long after the explosions had ceased. The duke would stop at nothing to kill Nathaniel and his men. As pirates, their fate would not be undeserved. But what about her? Nathaniel assumed she brought them some kind of insurance she did not. And he was risking their lives based on that assumption. She had to convince him of the truth, for his own sake as well as hers.
Nathaniel’s step outside the cabin made Alexandra bite her lip. He was coming. Now was her chance. She rushed to the portal and flung the door wide, but it was not Nathaniel who approached. It was Rat.
“There’s the fair maiden,” he mocked, putting up a hand to block the door when she tried to shut it. “I guess yer father cares more for the money in ‘is pocket than ‘e does about protectin’ ye. Mayhap the cap’n will let us ‘ave a crack at ye now. Yer not worth much to ‘im anymore.” He forced his way into the room, closing the door behind him.
Alexandra backed away, stopping only when she bumped into Nathaniel’s desk. “He’s still my half brother and your captain,” she pointed out.
“‘E won’t mind if I ‘ave a little kiss.”
“He’ll not stand for you handling me like some common doxy.”
“I don’t see ‘im ‘ere to protect ye.” Rat bit off one long, jagged nail and spat it at the wall. “Besides, what can ‘e do after it’s all over? ‘E’s not goin’ to kill a man simply for sampling the sweetness of those virgin curves. Ye’ll be no worse for the wear.”
“Don’t come near me.” Alexandra’s heart raced in panic as dread filled her soul. The others were preoccupied with the ship they fought; she doubted anyone would hear her scream. And the cabin contained nothing she could use as a weapon. Nathaniel had seen to that the day they set sail.
Her eyes flicked to the door as her only hope. Perhaps she could make it into the passage before Rat set upon her.
“If yer father cares naught about ye, there’s no need to keep ye so safe anymore. Perhaps even the cap’n will take ‘is turn. Or is that where it lies? ‘As all yer seemin’ disdain been a cover for the two of ye keepin’ each other busy at night?”
The lustful gleam in Rat’s eyes nearly turned Alexandra’s stomach, and his words frightened her more than a little. She darted toward the door, feeling the air near her arm stir as Rat’s hand shot out to stop her.
He missed. She grasped the knob and started to turn it, then screamed as she felt his arms snake about her waist, pulling her back.
Alexandra twisted as they fell and used her nails to claw at Rat’s face, hoping to gouge his eyes or any other vulnerable part of his anatomy. But he kept his face turned away. She felt only the rough stubble of his beard beneath her hands. Still, a loud curse indicated a small victory as her nails raked his cheek.
“Ye little bitch,” he swore. “Ye think ye can stop me?”
He grunted as they rolled together. Alexandra kicked and flailed, but her blows only seemed to prolong the inevitable. Finally, panting with exertion, she lay immobile beneath the weight of Rat’s body while he undid his pants.
“Ye like it rough, eh?” he cackled, slapping Alexandra hard across the face.
Alexandra’s ears rang from the blow that left her face numb, but she revived to some degree and began to fight again, this time more desperately than before as Rat tried to wrench up her skirts.
Then the door swung open. Nathaniel filled the portal, a look of stunned surprise claiming his features right before rage descended and his fist sent Rat flying across the room.
“How dare you?” he snarled, crossing to pick the smaller man up by his disheveled clothes.
Rat cowered in the corner, the pallor of his skin white beneath the dark stubble that covered his cheeks, his lip bleeding. “It’s not what ye think, Cap’n. I was just givin’ ‘er a good scare, is all. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Look. She’s not ‘urt.”
Nathaniel threw a glance over his shoulder, surprising Alexandra with the murderous intent etched into the lines of his face. “I’ll hang you from the yardarm if I so much as see you look at her again. This is my cabin, and what’s inside belongs to me. Do you understand?”
The biceps of Nathaniel’s good arm bulged as he slammed Rat against the wall again to punctuate his words.
The small man nodded, swallowing audibly. “Aye, sir.”
“You deserve a good flogging. Fortunately for you, as well as her, I got here in time. Still, you’ll be confined below with nothing but bread and water for five days.” Nathaniel dragged him across the floor and threw him out into the hall with the promise that he would deal with him later.
Alexandra was still shaking when Nathaniel turned to help her up.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied, but she felt far from fine. Her heart still hammered against her ribs, and her legs were too rubbery to stand.
Bending, Nathaniel picked her up, bearing the brunt of her weight with his good arm. He carried her to the bed where he laid her down and smoothed the hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Rat’s not one of my men. I can’t trust him like I can the others.”
Alexandra nodded, afraid her voice might crack if she tried to speak.
Nathaniel knelt next to the bed and lightly caressed the welt on her cheek. “I need to know something,” he said when silence stretched between them. “Are you the duke’s daughter?”
Alexandra stared back, willing herself not to glance away from the intense blue eyes that probed her face. Only moments before, she had felt it paramount that Nathaniel know the truth. But Rat had changed that. The memory of him attempting to force his sweaty body upon her made her shudder. Nothing was worse than leaving herself vulnerable to animals like him—nothing.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Nathaniel’s fingers tightened almost painfully on her chin. “Are you my sister?” he asked again, anger flashing across his face.
Alexandra licked her lips and swallowed. She could lose herself in his eyes, forget any earlier existence, forget everything beyond the moment. Rat’s attack had left her frightened and confused, yet Nathaniel provided an anchor with which to ground herself. He was so confident, so capable. She couldn’t lie to him any longer. The mere force of his will brought the truth to her lips.
“No,” she admitted. “I’m not.”
Alexandra wasn’t sure what she expected at that moment. She felt as though she hung suspended, waiting to fall.
“Alexandra.” She heard him use her name for the first time as his arm circled beneath her, half lifting her to him. He crushed her mouth with his lips, and she drank passion from his kiss until it filled all her senses. The rocking of the ship fell away, the cabin’s four walls fell away. There w
as only Nathaniel.
His tongue gently parted her lips, and she opened herself to him like a flower yawning before the sun. The heat of his body warmed her skin, yet burned within her. The thickness of his hair filled her hands.
Soon she began to crave something she could not identify. She wanted to press her body to him, to unite with him in some ancient yet indescribable way, as natural as when the snow melts on the mountains to run down into the sea.
Nathaniel’s breathing was rapid as he moved away from her lips to trail kisses down her throat. She pulled the tail of his shirt from his trousers and reached beneath to feel the muscles of his back, as she had longed to do. They rippled smoothly beneath her touch, thickening as her hands climbed to the full width of his shoulders.
“Alexandra. Beautiful Alexandra,” he murmured, making her shiver at the butterfly touch of his mouth on her skin. “How I have wanted to hold you.”
Alexandra closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. It was thick with desire, deep, throaty. She felt his mouth upon the swell of her cleavage, the heat of his breath. Then his hand closed around one breast, gently teasing the nipple through the fabric of her dress, until she pulled away.
His eyes were the color of the sea after sunset. He didn’t speak, but his gaze fastened to her face like that of a hungry wolf who watches the movements of a darting hare.
“I must not do this.” She shook her head, trying to rein in her emotions. She felt giddy, eager, deprived all in the same moment.
“Why? You want me as badly as I do you. Do you think I am so naive that I can’t recognize a woman’s desire?”
“What I want has nothing to do with it.”
“Desire has everything to do with it.” His brows lowered darkly, and he looked as though he would reach out and pull her to him despite her objections.
“Not if you’d known the sadness my mother carried with her all her days; the life she was forced to live.” Alexandra kept her distance, scooting across the bed as that part of her brain responsible for rational thought rallied from the blow her dazed senses had dealt it. “I’ll not make the same mistake. I won’t settle for anything less than a husband, a home, and children. And you can’t give me that.”
She saw Nathaniel’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He stared at her for a long time as though trying to master his own emotions. Slowly, he stood. “No,” he said. “I can’t give you that.” Then he turned and left.
* * *
It was midafternoon when Nathaniel ordered his crew to open fire once again on the Eastern Horizon. The brig turned to fight with seemingly more determination than before, but she was no match for the Vengeance. Obviously unprepared for further hostilities, the Horizon’s carronades managed only two shots for their every five. Still, she lasted longer than Nathaniel had expected, and he was relieved when a white flag finally ascended her main mast.
“What do you think?” Trenton came to stand beside him.
“I think we might be in trouble,” Nathaniel admitted.
His friend looked up at him in surprise. “You think it’s a trap?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “It doesn’t smell right. Something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean? Ships are like women. If they give up too easily, you’d be a fool to trust them.” Trenton grinned, then sobered. “Although I’ll be the first to admit that it’s strange the duke would fire upon his own daughter.”
“She’s not his daughter,” Nathaniel said.
“What?” Trenton rounded on him in alarm.
“She’s a seamstress from Manchester, like she said.”
“But how could she be?”
Nathaniel shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But she isn’t Lady Anne.”
Trenton looked sheepish. “I’m responsible for the mistake. Perhaps if we’d detected it sooner… I just couldn’t imagine another woman emerging from that dress shop wearing the same clothes, with the same height and build. It’s uncanny.”
Nathaniel nodded. He didn’t blame Trenton. How could he, when he’d suspected their mistake for some time? Maybe, on some level, even from the beginning.
“You stay here,” he said, staring across the water toward the Eastern Horizon. Regardless of Alexandra and the poignant emotions any thought of her evoked, it was time to find out why his father had sent a ship to the Black Sea. “If I don’t come back, blow that damned boat out of the water.”
Trenton nodded. “That’s a bloody promise.”
Nathaniel’s long legs carried him quickly to the side, where his men lowered a boat. He checked the seven-inch knife he kept in his boot and primed the pistol at his belt, then climbed down, dropping into the lighter.
Tiny did likewise, nearly making the small boat keel over.
“Take it easy,” Nathaniel muttered crossly.
“Sorry, Cap’n.”
“Garth, you too,” Nathaniel directed.
Garth was smart in a fight and loyal to a fault. Nathaniel watched as he lowered his short, muscular frame into the boat, then the rowers hopped in behind him.
The boat moved across the chasm between the two ships in short, jerky strokes until the vast hull of the Eastern Horizon loomed before them, straight up. A rope ladder dangled to the water.
Nathaniel paused for a moment to listen. He had to be ready for anything. He had no idea what he might find, but there was only one way to find out.
Hoisting himself up, he climbed aboard.
The men of the Eastern Horizon stepped back, their weapons still in their belts. They remained docile but speculative as they cleared an open path to their captain.
“So we meet again.” Nathaniel bowed after crossing the deck to Montague. “I’ll not take much of your time. My demands have not changed since the last time we met.”
“You obviously care little for your own neck,” Montague ground out, his black mustache twitching as he spoke. “Eventually His Grace will win this little war you have started, and then I wouldn’t give three pence for your hide.”
“It is I who have won this day,” Nathaniel returned, eyeing the short, dark Frenchman. “And I have no desire to spar with you. If you and your crew will kindly step aside, we’ll take what we want and leave your ship intact. Otherwise, I’m afraid my jittery first mate will fear for my safety and begin firing at will.”
“Then let him fire.” A short, stocky man fought his way to the forefront, a boy who was barely a man, judging by his lack of facial hair. “If we go down, you go with us.”
The boy had removed his shirt, revealing a hairless, muscular chest. He clasped a knife tightly in his right hand. “I’ll not let you take this ship while I’m alive to protect it.”
Nathaniel laughed with calculated insult. “It would seem a bit late for that.”
The crew began to gather into an expectant circle, murmuring amongst themselves.
“‘E’s got but one arm,” Nathaniel heard a gruff voice announce as they began to place wagers. “An’ Jake’s the best among us,” someone else agreed.
“Jake is young and reckless. Ignore his childish bravado,” Montague said, waving for the men to quiet down.
“And you are a fool,” Jake hissed. “You are playing right into the hands of these thieves.”
“You, young man, are a danger to all those present,” Nathaniel told him, letting his voice drop to a menacing level. “You would do well to take lessons from an older and wiser sort, like your good captain, before you lose something you value. Like your life.”
“He is a coward! And you are a pig!” Jake made a lightning jab for the heart. His blade grazed Nathaniel’s shirt, leaving a tear that exposed the skin over his ribs as he whirled away.
Dropping to one knee, Nathaniel retrieved the knife from his boot, and the men who surrounded them hooted in gratification as the fight erupted.
Jake lunged again, and Nathaniel sprang to his feet. The boy was not so inexperienced as Nathaniel had expected. He fought with practic
ed skill, but he was overly aggressive. Nathaniel had seen eagerness cause a man’s downfall too many times. He dodged and jabbed and dodged again, but remained mostly on the defensive, patiently conserving his energy until Jake began to tire.
The cool wind reached inside Nathaniel’s shirt like fingers, pulling the fabric away from his perspiring torso as he began his own series of thrusts and jabs. His knife caught Jake’s forearm, opening a small cut that spurted blood, but Jake’s eyes barely glanced at the nick. Red-faced with fury, the boy lost all discipline and began a feverish onslaught, repeatedly aiming at Nathaniel’s heart.
Nathaniel managed to avoid the point of Jake’s knife, pressing his advantage when the momentum of the boy’s own blows knocked him off-balance. Making a stab at Jake’s chest, he quickly changed direction, aiming instead for the hand that held the weapon.
A split second later, Nathaniel’s blade sliced deep into his opponent’s wrist.
The crew hissed as Jake’s knife clattered to the deck when he could no longer grasp it. The boy’s fingers dangled limply, the tendons in his wrist severed, as blood washed over his hand and dripped onto the wood planking.
Nathaniel lowered his knife, but the noise and motion of those around them acted like a douse of cold water to Jake. With a wild growl, he launched himself at Nathaniel’s feet.
Taken by surprise, Nathaniel felt himself hefted into the air, then slammed into the deck. The jolt forced the air from his lungs as Jake’s good hand landed a blow to his stomach.
Twisting away and gasping for breath, Nathaniel pushed Jake off. His own knife skittered across the deck toward Garth as he tossed it away, then sprang to his feet to deliver a punishing blow to Jake’s nose.
The boy’s head snapped back as blood spattered those closest to the fight, but Jake only shook his head as if to clear his vision. Then, with a curse, he threw a swift kick to Nathaniel’s groin.
Nathaniel intercepted the blow with his hand, toppling Jake to the ground. “Bloody hell, Montague, call this cockfighter off. Are you trying to get him killed?” he shouted.
The crew had been silent for several seconds. They were no doubt waiting for someone, likely Montague, to intercede. It was obvious that Nathaniel had won the fight. But the captain of the Horizon said nothing, only watched with hooded eyes as Jake staggered to his feet.