“Did you know she was aboard?”
“Maxwell. I noticed something amongst the barrels and found Lady Darla.” He gave her a quick wink.
Maxwell took her clothes from a chair and tossed them on the floor then slammed his body into a seat.
“Which question do you want answered first?” She tried to be matter-of-fact, but that was next to impossible with Wesley leaning against the door, ankles crossed, and a devilish smile on his face. The mystery in his smoldering eyes summoned her and started a fire that went from her cheeks, down her neck, and beyond.
“I don’t think I can help you with this stowaway. With the weather calm for the moment, I’ll be on deck helping Richards.” Wesley left the room.
She got out of bed, picked up her clothes, and took the chair on the other side of her father’s desk. All the while she tried to think of something to say.
“It’s not like you to be so …” Her father struggled to find a word.
“Determined,” she finished for him. Her father’s eyes flashed. He leaned forward. For a moment she didn’t know what to make of his expression. He had never struck her, but she had never defied him so openly.
“Has Ewan treated you well? Is there anything amiss at Dundhragon?” Flecks of spit exploded from his mouth as he spoke.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she held.
“No, Father. Lord Ewan, Lady Eugena, and Maria have treated me as one of their own.” She bent toward her father and held his hand. “I need to go home. That’s all.”
He rose and yanked his hand away before once again pacing, this time behind his desk. She remained silent. This was a side of the man she’d never seen and had no idea how to handle. Should she apologize or hold her ground?
“Your dreams are back.” Fear glittered in his eyes. “I know you keep your visions from me, but your mother tells me. I can think of nothing else that would drive you so.”
“Yes, but the dreams are not about home. I thought it was Magnus, but now I’m not sure.” She searched his face and let out a sigh of relief as the lines relaxed on his forehead and his shoulders lowered.
“What of Magnus?” he asked.
“It won’t end well for him.” Her voice trailed off.
He stood by the glass case. Darla waited, unable to make out his thoughts. After several heartbeats, he faced her.
“Is there anything to stop what you perceive?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know how or when, only that by the end of the year, Maria will be a widow.” It surprised her she could be so matter-of-fact about someone’s life.
“Now I understand why you want to go home. You’ve tried to interfere with destiny before and have never succeeded. Why try now?” His defeated voice matched how she felt.
He was right. She’d tried before to stop calamities, divert the outcome. But Magnus wasn’t her only concern. She worried about her father and the storm. She knew she could save him.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to know a tragedy is going to happen and not be able to take action? As long as I have these visions, I must try. Mother is the only one who can help me untangle the meaning and possibly change fate.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“I suppose you do. I can’t turn the ship back. We’ve gone too far. If this steady wind holds, we’ll be home before moonrise.” He came around and leaned on his desk. “You must stay in here and not leave the cabin. My crew knows you, but I can’t vouch for Lord Ewan’s men.”
She nodded her acceptance. Seamen were a superstitious lot. They wouldn’t start a voyage on a Friday or whistle on a boat for fear they’d conjure up a storm. They certainly didn’t want a woman on board. That would make the sea gods angry. Nor did they want witches. That wouldn’t stop some men from taking her birth veil for their own protection and throwing her overboard.
“I’ll stay here,” she said.
“Since you’re here, I want you to look at some amber I bought.” Her father slid the small compartment open and took out a metal box.
He opened the lid and lifted out a pouch. Placing a black velvet cloth on his desk, he spilled the pouch’s contents on to the black square.
A heartbeat or two passed while she stared, unable to speak. She reached out and touched the green amber. To Darla, every stone contained a message. These stones were no different. She held them in her hand and closed her eyes.
“Compassion, beauty, and love. Who are they for?”
“Ewan wanted something special for Maria.”
“The amber will make a beautiful necklace. They offer protection and healing. There may be enough stones for a circlet as well. That would make Maria laugh. I’ve been teasing her about marrying a king.” Her eyes never left the stones.
“Would you like to create the pieces for her? I think it would please Maria if you made it.” She looked up at him, glad they were on happier terms. “There are some pearls you may want to use.”
“Yes,” she said as she spilled out the pearls and examined them. “These have a blue-green sheen that would work well with the green amber.”
She laid the gems in a pattern on the velvet cloth, seven oval stones in a fourteen-inch sweep. The middle stone was positioned vertically with three stones on either side set horizontally. Short strings of three pearls were placed at the corner of each gem to join the stones.
“Lovely,” he said. “You should have plenty of time to complete it while you’re home. I must go and help on deck. Lock the door behind me,” he said his hand on the footlocker.
“Father, what do you know of Mr. Mills?”
“He’s a silk merchant who has made his own way in life. He’s recently from England and the Battle of Evesham where King Henry defeated de Montfort and the other barons.”
“He’s a soldier?” Her brows wrinkled in deep thought. She didn’t miss his toned muscles, but the man she met was not a soldier.
“His skill at negotiating is his weapon. He’s a close friend of Prince Edward. De Montfort held the prince hostage after defeating him and Henry at the Battle of Lewes. The prince escaped with the help of Wesley and his sailors. Edward kept Wesley at his side until de Montfort was defeated at Evesham.
“He’s a wealthy merchant liked by the King, which leads to admirers and detractors. He trades in silk and we’ve crossed paths mostly in London. Why do you ask?”
“He got me safely away from my hiding place among the barrels when the rope snapped.”
She handed her father a dry coat from the footlocker.
“Maybe he likes saving people, although in the English court he is known best for the women on his arm and his privateering in Spanish waters for the king out of the Cinque Ports.”
His unexpected response took her by surprise. English? “I never suspected Wesley to be an English sympathizer or a privateer.”
“His father was English, supplied silks to the royal court. His privateering came about by accident.” Maxwell chuckled as he took off his wet coat. “His crew was kidnapped and his goods were stolen. He was determined to get them back. In the end, he saved his crew and retrieved his silks. The activity suited him.”
She helped him slip into the dry coat.
“Now, lock the door when I leave. We should be home soon.”
She turned the lock and leaned her back against the door. She imagined him fighting for his crew and cargo. Darla wasn’t surprised he rescued his crew and his silks. Wesley’s body was built for … heat rose up her neck to her cheeks. Her eyes half-closed, she imagined the strength and comfort of being in his arms.
Chapter Five
Darla stood at the small window. The tempest moved down the coast. The stiff wind that hurried behind it left large patches of clear sky. The reflection of the setting sun on what remained of the storm clouds painted them shades of red and orange.
Insh Island was ahead. They weren’t far from home; it was a quick sail through the narrow Easdale Sound to Ellenbeich’s dock. She mo
ved away from the window, straightened her gown, put on her belt, then gathered her wet garments.
“Ship off the larboard side.” It must be the Trade Winds. She dropped the clothes in her hand and rushed to the window. Why would the ship anchor here when they were close to port?
“Get your hands off me.” It was her father’s voice. She rushed to the door.
“Maxwell, you need to get in your cabin. Stay in there and don’t come out.”
“Really, Wesley.” Her father sounded indignant. “I will defend my ship.”
“We’re not going to be lucky this time, not with Lord Ewan’s soldiers on board. They are primed for a fight. We need every man on deck, none can be spared here. You must stay and protect your daughter.”
Darla threw the latch and opened the door. The shock of seeing Wesley in his soaked shirt caused heat to sear through her cheeks and for a heartbeat she thought her face was on fire. He didn’t appear to be embarrassed. Quite the contrary, he acknowledged and appeared to enjoy her discomfort with a small smile that played across his lips.
“Darla, go back into the cabin and stay there.” Maxwell turned from her and grabbed Wesley’s arm, trying to move past him. “Out of my way.”
Wesley didn’t budge. Her father stood motionless in the doorway. She thought he would scold the man into submission. Instead, he let loose a sound punch to Wesley’s mid-section.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. He looked at her father then his stomach. She was aghast that her father’s blow did nothing. Wesley turned his attention to her with a look of regret. Without warning, he balled his fist and hit Maxwell’s jaw.
Darla screamed with her whole body, her eyes wide with horror, her mouth rigid and open, her fists clenched, her nails digging deep into her palms. Frozen in place for several heartbeats, all she could do was stare.
Her father’s head flayed back then righted itself, a startled look on his face before he crumbled in Wesley’s arms.
She rushed to his side.
“I did it for his own good. He’s not a fighter. We’re sure to be boarded and I can’t take a chance Maxwell will be skewered by a pirate. He’s too valuable to lose. He mustn’t be on deck. I promise you he’ll be fine. Now, help me move him inside,” Wesley said.
He half-carried and dragged her father through the door, and with her help put him on the bed. Wesley hurried to leave.
Her head was a jumble of thoughts, her body a tangle of feelings and emotions. There were no visions. She didn’t need them to know she was afraid for him.
He started to pull the door closed. She put her hand on his.
Everything came to a halt.
All she heard was her breath, its rhythmic inhale and exhale. He would keep them safe. It was a fact, not a question. She knew it as well as she knew her name. She blinked at the sound of Richards shouting orders, the anxiety above deck intense.
He looked at her hand, then raised his head and stared into her eyes.
“Stay safe.” She released his arm. Come back to me.
He gave her a curt nod.
Wesley hurried along the passageway. If he dwelled on Darla’s soft touch and words that echoed in his head, he would be lost. Instead, he pushed them away and by the time he reached the deck, all his thoughts were focused on the Sea Diamond.
He ran up the ladder to the helmsman. The man’s arm muscles bunched with strain, the veins on his arms prominent as he held the tiller in place. Three crewmen stood in front of him at the small mast primed for action.
Richard reached for the rigging and then made eye contact with Wesley. “Ready?”
With a bleakness settling around his heart at the thought of the upcoming battle, he responded. “Ready.”
The crewmen in front of him unfurled the triangular sail.
“To lee.” Wesley hollered above the snapping sheet, singing lines, and tackle.
The captain and his crew pulled, shifting the yardarm to larboard. The men at the small mast anchored the sheet a few feet above the deck. As he expected, the sails filled with wind.
The rudder needed to be adjusted, but not quite yet. With his hands and the helmsman’s on the tiller, he paused for three heartbeats. He waited until the pirate ship crossed an imaginary line. Timing. It was the difference between victory and defeat.
“Now.” His voice ripped the air. The crew responded, each at their task.
He and the helmsman moved the tiller to port. The ship surged ahead in a tight graceful arc, catching the pirate ship off guard. The Sea Diamond headed straight for the smaller ship.
Lord Ewan’s soldiers mustered into position at the arrow slits inside the castles as well as along the side of the deck. Richards joined him at the helm.
“You plan to ram him?” Richards’ voice was full of concern.
“With this strong wind and his light boat, he’ll skim across the water. We dare not waste time avoiding him. He won’t come into the channel so close to the port. We gamble on surprise. Pass him and leave him in our wake. It’s the best we can do to avoid being boarded.”
Richards nodded as the birlinn got caught in the Sea Diamond’s wake. They were close enough to the pirate ship to hear their taunts and curses. One man stood taller amongst the others and said nothing.
“I hope you’re right. I wouldn’t want to come up against that man,” Richards said.
Wesley looked over at the ship. His eyes locked on the pirate captain.
Darla closed and locked the door, her forehead resting on it. She lifted her head, peeked through the hole, and watched Wesley hurry down the passageway. Come back to me.
The sounds of rushing feet that echoed through the wood stopped, replaced by a deadly silence. She sat by her father and waited and listened.
Wesley and Richards shouted their commands.
The ship surged forward and started to turn. Papers on the desk slid off. Tankards fell to the floor. Darla rushed to her father and held him to keep him from falling off the bed. The only sound was the wind as the ship gracefully turned in the water.
Unable to remain still, she peeked through the window and glimpsed the pirate ship sail close to them. The pirates circled great grappling hooks above their heads then let them loose. The sound of the iron hooks bouncing off the hull gave her hope. But other hooks dug in deep, deep enough for the men to pull their boat alongside.
Movement on the bed made her rush to her father. The bruise on his chin darkened, but he slept on. She would protect him.
Screams and shouted orders broke the silence. Metal clashed against metal. Running feet thundered around her. Helpless, she searched the boards above and followed the sounds. Shouting. Screaming. Running.
The clash of swords in the passageway drew her to the door. One look through the hole was all she needed. With her stomach in knots, she looked out in horror. Wesley stood between her and a pirate. If others came to the pirate’s aid, Wesley would be overtaken and killed. The fight had to end before that happened.
She stepped back and glanced around the room. Nothing. Then her eye landed on the antique case with the ancient ax and jeweled knife.
The clang of swords in the passageway increased. She looked at the door, then the case. Saving Wesley was her only thought. With her skirt wrapped around her fist, she smashed the glass and sent shards everywhere.
Bodies banged against the door. She grabbed the long knife, pulled it out of the jeweled sheath, and unlocked the door. With a glance out the small hole she saw Wesley had pushed the pirate back, but just barely.
Darla pulled the door open, crashing it against the wall. Both men pulled up for a moment, startled to see her. The knife in her hand was poised. Her only thought, save Wesley.
Time slowed. The startled expression on the men’s faces froze. Surprise was on her side. With her full weight, she reached over Wesley and thrust the knife at the pirate. Wesley brought his shoulder up. Her reach compromised, her knife still pierced the pirate’s arm badly. The noise around her resumed. Wesley
pushed her back.
The startled pirate stood motionless. She looked into his eyes filled with contempt and hate and saw the face of the boy on the shore, the one that couldn’t reach his friend. The pirate touched his arm, smearing it with blood. He pulled his hand away and examined his fingers in disbelief.
Wesley grabbed the knife from her. He pushed her into the room and followed behind, closed and locked the door. He threw the knife on to the desk, its tip digging deep into the wood.
“This is a warning to you, Graeme Maxwell.” The pirate pounded on the door. “Take this back to that hell-spawn Lord Ewan. These waters are mine to command. No ship is safe, especially his. I fly the blood flag. Sail at your own risk.”
Darla started for the door. “How dare he threaten my father.”
Wesley grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her skin.
“To the Black Opal,” the pirate roared.
She and Wesley listened to the scuffling and grunts of people rushing over the side, one splash after another as some men landed in the water and others repelled down the side of the Sea Diamond to the waiting Black Opal. Then silence.
They looked out the window as the Black Opal rowed away.
She stepped toward the desk but was halted by the iron grip he had on her wrist. He yanked her around to face him. She didn’t miss his flare of temper. It was there in his eyes, his shoulders, his face. He pulled her close, so close she could see the gold flecks in his stormy eyes. She had no doubt about his anger, but she did not fear him either.
“What were you thinking?” Wesley’s words pounced on her like an enraged boar.
“I thought to save your life.” A rush of heat ran up her neck to the top of her head.
Wesley’s chest heaved and while it was a beautiful sight, she would not be intimidated.
“You risked your life for me. Did you think I would do any less for you? That I would stand by, do nothing?” she ask.
“I thought you had better sense than to attack a deadly pirate with a flimsy …” He didn’t finish the sentence. He pointed to the very lethal looking long knife impaled on the desk.
The Pirate’s Jewel Page 6