She looked distressed, even as she fought to hide it. A pirate left them here? Are you French? He frowned. “The man who left ye here wouldn’t happen to be Captain Claude Jandeau?”
Eliza’s eyes snapped to his as she pushed back against the wall. She lifted the dagger, clutching it tightly. “You know Jandeau?” she asked, pushing herself up the wall to stand. Her eyes glanced about, as if assessing where the children were in relation to his men. She had the determined look of a cornered wolf that was prepared to fight to the death.
Beck stood too. “I am hunting him.” Claude Jandeau had abducted his brother’s wife two years ago. The bastard had planned to rape Lark and sell the other lasses he’d stolen. He was working for the French monarchy as a privateer, trying to find a place for the French army to land to invade England. But even if he had not found a French outpost in Scotland, he had found an income as a bloody pirate. It was the near-loss of Adam’s wife that had led Beck to build his ship, the Calypso, and learn to captain her.
Beck met Eliza’s assessing gaze. “I would see him hang for his crimes, especially those against women and children.”
Eliza held his stare for a long moment and then lowered her dagger. “As would I,” she whispered. She leaned against the wall. The wind seemed to ebb out of her sails, and he watched her slender neck as she swallowed.
“Eliza.” He lowered his voice to the breath of a whisper. “Has Jandeau harmed ye?”
“He harms everyone he comes across.” Her lips pulled back slightly, showing little white teeth.
Anger tightened Beck’s muscles, his fists clenching. “What has he done to ye, Eliza?” The thought of the bastard touching her wound his gut into a knot. Or harming Pip or little Hester or Anders, raping Alice too.
“Tell me,” Beck said, his teeth clenched. The answer would decide how immediate and painful Jandeau’s death would be once he found him. “What has he done to ye?”
She stared back into his hard eyes, hers equally so. “He killed everyone I loved.”
Chapter Two
Mama! Papa! Peter! Please, no!
The sound of her mother weeping was etched into Eliza’s mind like a wound that would never heal. Jandeau had killed her parents, but not before he let his crew attack her mother. Anne Tyrrell Wentworth was too old for him to sell but not Eliza. She was only twelve, the perfect age to earn him gold. Her brother, Peter, was only three years old, forgotten on the deck as Jandeau dragged Eliza off to his cabin. “I would keep you pure, ma petite mademoiselle. You are safer in here with lustful sailors about.” She’d lived two horrid weeks in that cabin, hiding in every crevice she could find.
“Ye escaped Jandeau,” the Scotsman said.
She looked into Beck Macquarie’s eyes. They were dark in the dim light, hard and questioning. “Aye.” She opened her lips to say more but then closed them. She knew nothing about this man, and Captain John’s advice was very clear. Never trust a man, especially a sailor.
Beck looked over at her sweet children, who she would rather see dead than end up in Jandeau’s cabin, waiting to be sold and used by vicious, lustful men. Even Anders could be in jeopardy or just terrorized and killed.
“Ye helped them escape too?” he asked.
Giving him a portion of the truth would reassure the Scotsman that he should take them to the Isle of Mull, a place where Captain John could find them. “I was rescued from Jandeau ten years ago, although my parents and brother were killed on his ship after being tortured. These children and Alice were rescued from various places and ships. Alice was rescued with me. Pip has been with me for two years, Anders, three, and we just plucked Hester from the sea two months ago when we came across her ship foundering, torn apart by a storm. She was holding on to a piece of the gunwale.”
“Who is the captain who saved ye, helped ye save all of them?”
She hesitated, weighing the Scotsman. She needed to find Captain John and the crew, and it was obvious after two weeks on the isle that she would need help. “Captain John Pritchert,” she said. King Henry of England had died earlier that year, leaving his young son Edward in charge of the country. “The captain was a privateer for King Henry and is awaiting word from the new king’s regent, Admiral Seymore.”
He stared at her, but she merely looked back, directly into his eyes. She would not flinch.
“Why did he leave ye here?” Beck asked.
“Because he heard that Jandeau is in the area, and Captain John has the guns to send the devil to hell.” She glanced over at the children. “Just in case… He left us here so Jandeau could not take us.”
“What if Jandeau landed here?” Beck asked.
“Then I would kill him,” she said, turning to lie on her side. Or she would die trying.
…
“Your ship looked bigger from the isle,” Anders said as the heavily laden rowboat moved closer to Beck Macquarie’s ship, anchored off the coast. Eliza and her family had managed to load all their important possessions into one trunk. Pip held Hester on top of it since there was no place for them to sit. Hester hid her face anytime she was this close to the water, but Pip smiled as she lay half overtop the little one, flat on the trunk.
“’Tis a fast ship,” Drostan said as he strained against the oars. Beck, Drostan, and Rabbie rowed.
“Hmph,” Anders said. “Captain John’s ship has four masts and forty guns.”
Eliza kept her face to the wind where she sat in the back of the boat, her hair whipping behind her, as they moved through and over the tossing waves. Alice looked green. Not Eliza. She loved the bob and flow and freedom of the sea. Being trapped on land for the last two weeks had nearly driven her mad.
“The Calypso is lighter and smaller because she does not stay out at sea for more than a few weeks,” Beck said, glancing over his shoulder at the boy. His muscles strained against his tunic, his shoulders wide and powerful. He had the build of a warrior. An intriguing scar sat near his hairline on his forehead. His nose had a slight bump, as if it had been broken but set well. A close-cropped beard gave him a roguish look, although she’d known plenty of clean-shaven men who were true scoundrels. Beck Macquarie was handsome, brawny, and seemed to be kind. She did not trust him.
“We live most of the time on Wolf Isle,” Beck said.
“Have you seen wolves there?” Pip asked, but instead of looking frightened, she looked excited.
“I have a pack of wolfhounds,” Beck said, “but there haven’t been wolves on the isle since the Norsemen named it hundreds of years ago. Ulva means wolf in the Norse language.”
Anders pointed, counting softly. “Ten cannon portholes. That’s all?”
“The Calypso has twenty-six cannons,” Drostan said.
Rabbie glanced at the boy, sweat across his forehead. “And a fore and aft gun for chasing down our prey.” The old man gave his fiercest look.
Anders did not seem impressed. “The Devil’s Blood has forty-two guns.”
“The Devil’s Blood?” Beck asked. Eliza could feel his gaze on her, but she continued to look out at the empty sea. Where the bloody hell was Captain John?
“’Tis the name of our ship,” Anders said, pride in his voice.
“Rather dark,” Drostan said.
Anders nodded. “It scares off pirates.”
“We are almost there, Hessy,” Pip said, her arm snug over the little girl.
Anders held his hand over his eyes. “I see a ship way out.”
“Can you see its colors?” Eliza asked, sitting taller. Anders was their spotter. He had the best vision of Captain John’s crew and wasn’t afraid to climb high in the rigging to see for miles.
He shook his head. Maybe John was finally coming back for them. The thought made her heart squeeze, and she glanced at the carrack before her. It looked recently built. A beautiful three-masted ship that was quick and armed. If I cou
ld steal it… John would be so proud of her. He’d probably let her keep it. But what were her chances of securing the carrack with only three children and Alice to help her?
Intimidation would not work with Beck Macquarie. She would have to kill him and as many of his crew as she could. But he bloody hell just saved us. Damn conscience. Captain John said it was the worst thing for a pirate to possess and the best thing for a man.
The ship was free of rust and barnacles as they pulled up along its side. A rope ladder dropped, and a chain with a hook and wheel was lowered to raise the trunk. “Hester and I will ride up on the trunk,” Pip called. “’Tis easier than climbing a ladder with her.”
Beck looked to Eliza. Pip could swim, and Hester wasn’t letting go. “Let them,” she said, and Beck signaled the sailor above to crank.
“Hold on, Hessy,” Pip called. “We’re going for a ride!”
Anders climbed the ladder quickly, followed by Alice who was exceedingly ready to be off the tossing boat. As Eliza climbed, she knew her skirts billowed, letting the three men below see most of her legs, but she’d already donned trews under them. Would they think that odd?
An older man, who looked about Alice’s age, helped Eliza climb over the rail. He was handsome, with an easy smile and widening eyes. “Welcome to the Calypso,” he said. “I am Gavin Maclean.”
Eliza nodded and turned to inspect the ship. At the same time, it seemed the crew was inspecting her. Some wore sailing trews like Beck and his brother. Others wore the Scottish wool wrapped around their hips. Damn that. The sea required warmer stuff up here in the Atlantic. Bare legs and feet were more suited for the Caribbean.
She turned away, grabbed her burgundy skirts, and traipsed across the deck, her head tipped upward. The rigging looked correct, the sails whole and new. Aye, the ship was young and untried. No black ash marked any of the planks, and there were no stitched holes in the sails.
“Your trunk is being placed in my cabin,” Beck said behind her, making her pivot. She frowned, her mouth opening to protest. “It is your cabin until we reach Ulva, yours and your family’s.”
Her mouth clamped shut, and she nodded. “Thank you.” Her arm went out toward the fore gun. “Have you even fired your cannons yet?”
“Aye, but not at a ship.”
She slid her hand along the polished wood of a mast. “A lot of care was put into building her,” she said.
Beck looked upward at the soaring masts and rigging, and she admired his strong jawline. “I built her and have touched every part of her,” he said and dropped his gaze back to Eliza. “I love her more than any person.” He shrugged. “Except my brothers and Adam’s family.”
“Hmmm…” she said, walking to the rail to look out. Anders was right. There was a ship way in the distance. Even with the wind blowing behind it, the ship would take an hour or more to reach them.
“Captain.” Beck turned his gaze to another sailor. “There was a light at sea last night, another ship riding out the storm on the west side of the isle. We have not seen it this morn.”
“If it was Captain John, he would have come immediately to retrieve us,” Eliza said. “Last night or this morn.”
The sailor’s gaze slid to her. She narrowed her eyes, and he hurried away. Beck chuckled. “They don’t know what to make of ye.”
She leaned over the rail. “They shouldn’t make anything of me.”
Beck leaned his back against a post alongside, studying her. “So, Captain John Pritchert? Privateer for King Henry?”
She straightened. “What is your question, Scotsman?”
“Privateers are pirates to other countries. If he sailed for England, he would be considered a pirate to the Scots.”
She raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. “Will you arrest us then?” she asked. “Two women and three children? Send us to the gallows?”
Before Beck could answer, Anders leaped onto the mast to scurry up high. “I can get a better look above,” he yelled, peering out toward the incoming ship. He shook his head, glancing down. “I see blue, not red.”
Her eyes closed for a moment. It wasn’t Captain John.
“’Tis Cullen Duffie most likely,” Gavin Maclean said. “Chief of the MacDonalds of Islay Isle. ’Tis one of his ships patrolling for pirates along our coast.”
“Bloody foking hell,” Anders yelled out. “That ship isn’t Scots,” he said, pointing toward the isle they had just vacated. Around the south side emerged a galleon flying a fleur-de-lis flag and a scarlet red one beneath it, meaning they took no prisoners, except the ones they would enslave or sell. It was the very ship that haunted her nightmares. “’Tis the Bourreau!” Anders yelled and began to slide down the mast.
The ship’s name sliced through Eliza’s middle. Damn his fetid soul. Jandeau, the devil who had killed her father and raped her mother before slitting her throat. And Peter. What had the pirate done to her three-year-old brother after Captain John rescued her? Neglect, rape, selling him at some port, killing him too? Because I left him. The guilt twisted with the hate and fear inside her gut, a poison she could never bleed out. No matter how many children she rescued with Captain John.
“The Bourreau,” Beck said. The rest of the men ran to the other side of the ship to get a better view of the dark, scarred ship with its forty cannons and over fifty raping, stealing, gutting crewmen.
She met Beck’s eyes. “It means executioner in French. ’Tis Jandeau.”
His stormy gray eyes narrowed, and he turned, yelling out orders. “Make sure the cannons are fully loaded. Everyone to their stations. Lanterns ready to light the fuses. Drostan,” he yelled, pointing to the helm. “Can ye get us windward?”
Eliza held a piece of her hair up and let it drop. The wind blew it behind her. Damn. They were leeward side, giving Jandeau an advantage. Like he needed more.
“Not before that ship is upon us,” Drostan yelled back.
“We will blast him anyway.” Beck pointed at Gavin and several grim-looking men. “All the weapons ye have.”
Eliza tore her eyes from Jandeau’s approaching ship to stare at Beck. “You aren’t planning to fight him, are you?”
Beck walked away, yelling more orders, changing the sails to catch the wind to take them into a position to sail around the isle. He was still trying to get to the windward side. Eliza ran after him, grabbing his thick arm. “You cannot beat him, Macquarie. He has forty cannons and fifty bloodthirsty men. Even if he wasn’t flying his red flag, Jandeau would kill you all.” She tried to shake his arm, but it didn’t move. “And he will take the children, Alice, and me.” She shook her head. “You must convince him not to attack.”
He leaned into her. “That is Cullen Duffie’s ship out there. The two of us will catch him.”
She gritted her teeth. “Not before Jandeau sinks this ship. Your friend will not reach us in time.”
“The Calypso is sturdy,” he said, his hand sliding down the polished wood of a mast. “Go with the children into the cabin,” Beck said. “I will stall him with cannon fire until Cullen reaches us.”
Eliza let out a rough growl between her clamped teeth. Fool! He had little to no experience fighting a sea battle, and none with the likes of Claude Jandeau. “You are going to get us all killed!” She stomped away. “Anders, Pip, Alice!” she yelled, and met them at the aft captain’s cabin.
Alice held Hester on her hip, and they all filed inside. Pip ran to their trunk to tug out her sailing trews.
“The Bourreau is rounding the isle,” Eliza said, running over to the open trunk, her mother’s brooch thumping against her chest. She pulled out her long wool and leather coat. Alice plucked the laces of Eliza’s bodice so she could pull it off over her head. She yanked open her stays. They and her smock flew off quickly as she threw on her white tunic. There was no time to bind her breasts, but her jacket hid them well enough.
<
br /> “Pip, take Hester and find an empty barrel that she can hold on to if you have to swim with her back to the isle. Do not take the rowing boat or they will see you. Then hide.” She turned to Anders. “You go with them.” She would rather see them dead than taken.
“But I can—”
“I need you to care for them, Anders. Make sure they have food. Get them to Mull.” His lips closed tight, and he nodded. She had told all the children about her time on the Bourreau ten years ago. They knew the horrors that awaited them if taken. The horrors that her baby brother had to face while she hid away in Jandeau’s quarters.
Stop it. Teeth gritted, Eliza forced her thoughts to the current situation. Otherwise, she would be paralyzed with remorse and fear.
She buttoned her jacket, tucking the brooch inside, and grabbed her crossbow and pitch-tipped arrows. Alice was already yanking a tunic over her own head. She grabbed the lantern while tucking the ends in her trews. Eliza’s gaze locked with hers, and they both gave a small nod before tearing out of the cabin, Eliza jamming her floppy leather hat on her head.
On deck, Beck was issuing orders while his brother yelled to the men working the sails. Men pulled ropes to turn the ship to try to position it to catch the sweep of wind, giving the Calypso some advantage over Jandeau. But it would not be enough. I have to stop this! And she would. Even if that meant taking over the ship.
Chapter Three
To wait for Cullen or attack now?
Beck watched the heavily gunned galleon sweep around the small isle, the wind filling its sails. After six months of patrolling the waters off the west coast of Scotland, Beck wouldn’t let this chance of capturing the most notorious French pirate slip past him.
If the bastard outgunned them, he would use some intimidation to slow him down until Cullen could attack the Bourreau from the other side.
“Gavin,” he yelled, “are the men ready?”
Gavin’s mouth dropped open, frozen, as he gazed past Beck. Beck pivoted on his boot in time to see… Eliza?
The Highlander's Pirate Lass (Brothers of Wolf Isle) Page 2