by Sarah West
Wondering where Logan was now, she poured a glass of wine and retrieved the small pouch from the front of her bodice, where she had concealed it before leaving her inn. Hearing footsteps, she quickly dumped the herbs into the drink and shoved the bag under a chair cushion.
The door creaked open. “Querida, are you feeling any better?” She dropped into the chair just as he entered the room.
“Yes, a little bit, thank you.”
“Good. I found your shawl, and I brought you another bottle of sparkling wine. Shall I pour you a glass?” She nodded and at once wished she knew where it came from. If Deacon had given the bottle to Mendoza she could safely drink it without worrying, but chances were Mendoza grabbed it while the Irishman was distracted. Which means, she thought to herself as she accepted the glass, there could be anything in it.
He watched her raise the glass to her mouth. “Let’s have a toast,” she suggested abruptly, as she stood and stumbled to the dresser where she had left his drink.
He lifted an eyebrow. “To what shall we toast?”
“To new friendships,” she offered, handing it to him.
“To new friendships,” he replied and clinked his glass against hers. She lifted hers again and tipped it against her closed lips, careful not to let a single drop of the liquid into her mouth.
She watched him from the corner of her eye as she began to wander around the room. “This is a lovely inn. How long have you been staying here?”
“I come and go when my work allows it, but I have been frequenting this establishment for about seven years now.”
“Do you know much about the town? Paxton won’t let me leave our inn during the day when he’s not around, but maybe if you talk to him he’ll let me explore. If I’m with you, of course.”
“Of course.”
A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek. She hoped that he would finish his drink and begin feeling the effects of the herbs soon, as she was finding it harder and harder to act relaxed in his presence. And how long could she keep on pretending to drink before he noticed that the volume in her glass never changed?
Another glance in his direction revealed him sitting calmly at the table, legs crossed, watching her. She had to keep stalling. “You’ve been so kind to me tonight, I really have enjoyed myself. It’s been a wonderful evening.”
“Yes, well, unfortunately it seems to have taken a bad turn.”
Her nails left half-moon shaped indents in her palms as she turned towards him. “What do you mean?”
“Our new friendship has an element of dishonesty, for if you had been drinking as much as you appeared to be, including that drugged glass I just handed you, you would be unconscious by now. And if I had been drinking this one, judging by the smell, I’d be in much the same state,” he declared, tipping his full flagon of wine onto the carpet.
Warning bells went off in her head and her stomach plummeted, but she forbade herself to give up. Logan was relying on her. “Señor, I do not know what you are talking about. I have always had a strong constitution about me, my mother said it came from my Irish roots.” She sauntered up to him and traced her finger down the length of his unbuttoned waistcoat. “But if you had wanted me to act very wicked, you only had to ask. There was no need to get me drunk.”
“Cut the act, you little bitch. Where is Jeffries?”
“I don’t know what you are ta—” He raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face, sending her reeling to the floor. She gained her balance and quickly hiked up her skirt to grab her knife, but was stopped by the cold metal of a pistol pressed against her head, and the sound of it being cocked.
Logan had sensed that things were beginning to unravel when Mendoza had reappeared after going back downstairs. He had been watching the two of them closely the entire night, and now was listening from his position on the balcony. He heard the pirate offer Amber another drink, and he prayed that she would have the sense not to take it, but he reassured himself that she was a clever girl and would figure out a way to distract him.
Mendoza’s confession came as a cold shock to him but he knew that revealing himself now would be a deadly mistake for both of them, and so he waited.
Then he heard a pistol being cocked and his heart stopped dead in his chest.
Mendoza’s oily voice came calling through the open door. “El Tigre, you might as well crawl out from whatever rock you’re hiding under, unless you want her returned to you in pieces.” Every thought Logan had about waiting for the opportune moment vanished, and he rushed into the room.
Amber struggled in Mendoza’s arms when she saw Logan, but the pirate’s grip around her hair only tightened, the pistol only pressed deeper into her temple.
“Ah, there you are. I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve gotten a whore to do your work for you, Jeffries. You always were a cowardly sort.”
“Let her go, Mendoza, your problem is with me,” he said, stepping forward.
“Drop your sword, and your gun on the floor.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Amber cried, trying to break away, but Mendoza caught her before she could escape and brought the butt of his pistol down against her head. A stream of blood began trickling from her scalp.
Logan immediately disarmed himself and stood, palms open. “Let her go, Mendoza.”
“Not a chance, Jeffries. And if you go for the knife in your boot I will blow her head off.” He saw the fear on Logan’s face and laughed, jerking Amber back against him. “I must say that I’m shocked that after all these years your weakness turned out to be a woman. I think I’ll watching enjoy your face as I kill her, and then,” he added, pointing the gun at Logan, “I’ll kill you.”
“You bastard,” Amber spat, straining against him.
“Amber, be quiet.”
“She’s a mouthy bitch, isn’t she? But I have to admire her spirit. I bet she’s a wildcat on her back.” He appeared thoughtful. “Perhaps I’ll keep her for myself after I’ve killed you. After all, she could be fun.”
“I have a better idea,” Logan said.
“You’re hardly in a position to barter with me, el Tigre, seems to me I hold all the cards.”
“Release Amber and take me instead.”
“Now why the hell would I do something like that?”
“Because,” Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest, “you know that the price on my head is nearly triple the amount on yours, but only if I’m brought in alive. Your government wants me for their own purposes.”
Mendoza trained the gun on Logan again. “And?”
“And if you let her go, if you let her leave here tonight, untouched, I will go with you willingly. Without a fight, as your prisoner.”
“Logan no, you can’t!”
The Spaniard ignored her. “How do I know you aren’t pulling another trick?”
Logan reached down slowly and pulled out the knife that was wedged in his boot, placing it on top of his belt with his sword and pistol. He stood. “I’m unarmed, search me if you don’t believe me.”
Mendoza’s gaze narrowed as he transferred his gun to his other hand and put his fingers into his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. At once a burly man lumbered into the room. “Check him for weapons,” Mendoza ordered.
Amber watched helplessly as Logan was roughly patted down. “He’s clean.”
“Tie him.”
When his hands were bound in front of him he was pushed to his knees. Amber’s tears ran red with the blood that seeped from her wound, but her fear far outweighed her pain. She longed to reach out to him, to stop this nightmare from unfolding further, but she was paralyzed. With two guns aimed at him she dare not move.
“You have me,” Logan said, “now let her leave.”
Mendoza laughed. “With you bound and helpless, who’s to stop me from taking what I want?” Her breath hitched as his rough hands grabbed her breast and kneaded it painfully.
Logan’s eyes took on a murderous glint. “I swear to Go
d, Mendoza, if you touch her I will throw myself onto the first sword I see, ruining your chances at getting the bounty, and the satisfaction of doing it yourself.”
Mendoza sighed. “You’re lucky, girl, that I so badly want to watch the life drain from his body,” he said as he pulled the sash from around his hips and bound her hands.
“She doesn’t need to be tied if you’re letting her go.”
“She does if I don’t want her trying to stab me again,” Mendoza explained as he spun her around to face him, his breath warm on her face as he spoke. “If I see you or any of his men in this country again I will kill him. That includes those kids and the bartender downstairs. You’ll find him unconscious in the courtyard, I’ll wager. Now, one final thing…” His smile widened as he reached for the clasp at the back of her neck, flicking it open with a finger and allowing the heavy necklace to drop into his palm. “Hold onto this for me, will you?” He tossed the diamonds towards the other man, who caught them with a smirk. His grip on her loosened and she broke free, stumbling to Logan and falling before him.
“Please don’t do this,” she sobbed as he raised his restrained hands and wiped the blood from her face. Mendoza rolled his eyes.
“Love, I need you to trust me,” Logan whispered. “You have to leave.”
“I can’t leave you here!”
“You have no choice. I need to know that you’re safe.”
“That’s enough,” Mendoza interrupted as he hauled her to her feet.
“Do as I said Amber, go home.”
Mendoza dragged her towards the door, disregarding her attempts to fight him off. She could not tear her gaze from Logan, even when she was shoved into the hallway. “Leave,” Mendoza commanded. “Get in your little ship and go home, just like he said. There’s no place for you in this world.” He stepped back into the room, his hand on the door. “And if you’re seen again he’ll die.”
Her heart heavy with despair, she looked to Logan one last time. His eyes seemed to be trying to communicate with her, but her vision was blurred and she could not decipher his meaning. Panic filled her that she would never know what he intended to say to her, but at that moment he lifted his chin, and in a calm voice stated: “Ego mos reperio vos.”
Before she could translate it in her head, Mendoza’s man knocked Logan to the ground and the door was slammed in her face.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amber stood staring at the door for a full minute before she found the will to move. As if in a daze she shuffled down the stairs and, eyes unseeing, made her way back to the inn. She was oblivious of the strange looks she was receiving, deaf to the voices that called out to her.
Pax was waiting for her outside and instantly was on her, slicing through her bonds and dragging her towards the light to better examine the gash on her forehead. “What the hell happened? Where’s Logan?” She pulled herself from his grasp and hugged her arms to her chest, not meeting his gaze. “If you can make it upstairs by yourself I’ll go find Eli.” She said nothing, but brushed by him and entered the inn, climbing the stairs to her room where she sat in silence. When Eli arrived with Pax at his heels, he demanded she tell him what happened.
“So what, we’re just going to leave him here?” Pax cried in outrage when she had finished her story.
Eli glared at the younger man. “Of course we are you bloody idiot,” he said, his hands shaking, a distinct British accent creeping into his voice. “You heard what happened. If we stay they’ll shoot him.”
“Even if we leave they’re still going to shoot him!”
“No,” Amber whispered. “Mendoza wants the money.”
“But he’s our Captain, we can’t abandon him here.”
“You have no choice, Pax, and in his absence I’m Captain. I need you to get Anton and have him find Deacon. Tell him not to waste time trying to rouse him if he is still unconscious, just get him to the beach. Then round up everyone else. We are leaving in one hour.”
“But Eli—”
“Don’t question me, boy. Just go.”
Amber was aware of Eli as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “What did he say to you?” She shook her head, but squeezed her arm and turned her face towards his. “I know you’re in shock right now, but it’s crucial that you tell me again everything as it happened, sparing no detail, especially what he said.”
She took a deep breath and recounted her entire evening in full, struggling to speak of their capture and his surrender. When she was done Eli leaned back. “Ego mos reperio vos. What is that, Latin?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you say you spoke Latin? On the boat ride here you said you spoke Spanish, French and Latin. Can you translate it?”
“I’m not sure…”
“Sweetheart, please try.”
She moved beyond the crippling fear to search through the haze of her memory, trying to recall her classics lessons from years before. “Well, ego means I, and I think vos means you.”
“So Logan is giving you a message. I know this is difficult for you, but keep going. What about mos reperio?”
“Reperio means…to find? And mos may translate to will, but I’m not certain.”
“Ego mos reperio vos…I will find you?” His face lit up. “Amber, that’s brilliant, it means he has a plan to escape! But, wait, why are you crying?”
“It’s all my fault,” she sputtered through her tears. “If I hadn’t demanded to help, if I hadn’t been so stubborn, insisting I could take care of myself, he’d still be here. If I hadn’t messed up my one job he wouldn’t have had to surrender himself.”
“Stop it.”
“One simple job and I couldn’t even do that properly—”
“I said stop it!” Eli roared as he lurched to his feet, his face contorted in anger. “Stop everything; stop speculating about what might have been, stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop claiming responsibility. It’s not your fault.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his voice quieting. “Mendoza was smarter than any of us gave him credit for; it’s likely he’d have seen through any trap we laid for him. It’s unfortunate, but what Logan did was brave and he did it so that we could escape, and get you safely to England.”
“England,” she repeated numbly, “right.”
“Come,” he said, offering her his hand and pulling her off the bed. “I need you to pack up everything and be ready to go in twenty minutes, can you do that for me?” She nodded. “Good girl.”
He watched her from the doorway as she began folding Logan’s clothes, laying them in a pile on the dresser, her face void of expression.
When he returned she was ready with everything all tied up in a neat satchel, her wound cleaned and dressed. Silently she followed him through the streets and down the narrow path between the cliffs onto the beach, where there were two boats waiting. The rest of the men were already throwing the last of their things inside. Amber ignored Anton’s sympathetic smile and outstretched hand and climbed into the boat, clutching her satchel tight against her chest.
The sun was rising over the horizon as they pulled alongside the Imperial Shadow, but she took no notice of it. As soon as the ladder was dropped over the side of the ship she raced up it, throwing herself onto the deck.
The expectant faces of the crew, who were no doubt awaiting victorious news, were too much for her to bear. She waved away their questions as she ran into Logan’s empty cabin, slamming the door shut behind her and crumpling to the floor in a heap of rose silk. With frantic hands she began tearing at her dress, but found to her dismay that the seams were firm and unaffected by her clawing nails. The weight pressing into her thigh reminded her of the knife that was still strapped to her leg, and without hesitation she pulled it from its sheath and cut herself from the restrictive garment.
As she stared at the wrinkled pink gown in her hands she felt remorse for her hasty actions. Lifting it and examining it in the early morning sun’s rays, she found that the only damage was in pl
aces that could be easily mended. With care she folded it and laid it on the top of her trunk, and climbed into the wide bed.
Logan’s familiar scent wafted towards her as her head dropped onto his pillow. To prevent any more tears she ripped the pillow from under her and held it at arms length, ready to fling it across the room. But she thought better of it and hugged it against her body, falling into a dreamless sleep.
She spent the rest of the journey in a detached state of wakefulness, rising at noon to wander around the ship aimlessly, usually ending up perched on the main topsail yard, watching the ocean roll past them. She exchanged very few words with the men. She imagined their expressions of sadness and compassion to be accusatory, and brushed off attempts at conversation for fear of their scorn. Eli had again tried to reassure her, to tell her that no one held her responsible for the circumstances and that Logan would find a way to escape, but it was all in vain.
She was blankly staring at the page of a book when there was a knock at the door of Logan’s cabin, a week into the journey. “Just leave it on the table Anton, thank you.”
“I was hoping I could join you tonight, and talk.”
She closed her book at the sound of Eli’s voice. “I’m not in much of a mood for talking,” she confessed, but gestured for him to join her anyway.
“How are you?” She shot him a dark look as she reached for a roll. “Fine, stupid question. How about you tell me your plans upon arriving in England instead?”
“I am going to find my uncle and stay with him.”
“And then?”
She shrugged. “I’ll get married.”
Pity crossed his handsome face. “So you’re still set upon this silly notion?”
Her hand gripped the fork. “I have to, nothing has changed. I’m required to marry someone, or risk losing everything my mother worked so hard for.”