Maxwell looked at him with watery eyes and stopped struggling. “Thank God,” Maxwell mumbled.
Wesley led the way as he and Maxwell climbed over rocks and boulders in a drizzling rain and scaled the last of the steep slope in the midst of a downpour.
Wesley moved carefully along the edge of the narrow path hugging the rocks. Maxwell followed. Beneath them was a forty foot drop to the sea below.
By the time he and Maxwell reached the large boulder in front of the grotto, the driving rain came down in waves.
“Richards,” Maxwell called and hurried to reach the man in tattered clothes crouched next to the fire, helping a sailor.
His captain turned toward them and rose, every inch an officer.
“Lady Darla has been sick with worry,” he said.
“Where is she?” Maxwell looked over his head and scanned the area.
“She and one of the men went to the castle. Sit by the fire and get warm. Help will be here soon.”
Maxwell nodded and sank to the ground.
“All the men are accounted for, but I’m afraid we’ve lost the Sea Diamond,” Richards said.
“You may be able to raise her once the storm passes and the water calms,” Wesley said, and sat next to Maxwell. “The hole in the side can be repaired.”
He stretched his frozen fingers toward the flame, relishing the warmth.
“You have my gratitude for saving my most precious gem.” Maxwell’s face glowed with relief.
“Your gems? I didn’t take the gems from your cabin. They’re still on the ship.”
Maxwell gave a slight chuckle that turned into a hacking cough.
“All the gems in the world cannot compare to my Darla. She is my most precious gem.” Maxwell hung his head, tears running down his cheeks. “I thought I lost her.”
“She’s very resourceful.” Wesley put his arm around the distraught father. “When I got into the room, I found a hole in the hull. It wasn’t from the ship crashing against the rocks. She managed to break through the hull. We swam to the surface together and came ashore.”
Maxwell raised his head. Wesley didn’t find any mask, not of an overseer or of superiority. Pride lit Maxwell’s face.
“She swims like a fish.” Maxwell chuckled.
The dancing flames of the fire settled. The wind and rain calmed. The rhythmic sound of crashing waves against the rocks and tramping feet reached their ears. Lord Ewan’s men came around the boulder and entered the grotto with blankets and supplies.
“We need to move at once before the wind turns. The climb up the cliff is hazardous in good weather,” the castle guard said.
“My daughter?” Maxwell asked.
“Lady Darla is safe. She’s with Lady Eugena and Lady Maria,” the guard said.
“We can’t all leave at once. It will be too difficult for the guards to manage.” Richards counted off and divided the men into three groups. “We’ll take those injured first.”
“You go with the men.” Maxwell pointed to Richards and Wesley. “I’ll wait until everyone is gone.”
Wesley threw a piece of driftwood on to the fire. “I’ll stay with you, while Richards sees to the crew.”
“I’ll let Lady Darla know you’re—”
“Alive,” Maxwell said.
“That you’ll be with her shortly.” Richards worked with the guards and moved the men out.
“I must thank Lord Ewan for caring for Darla and rescuing us. He is a good man.”
“To some,” Wesley said. Even exhausted, the mention of Lord Ewan ignited his temper.
“I wish you understood him as I do.”
He looked at Maxwell, one of Lord Ewan’s allies. “My father also thought Lord Ewan a great man.” He stopped himself from saying more, but he didn’t forget how the lord had betrayed his father. Tossed him out. For no reason. Took his land and livelihood.
“Your father Collin Reynolds was a proud man. I know. We were the closest of friends. Sometimes he was too proud.”
The shock of discovery knocked out what little wind he had in him.
“You are mistaken. I’m Wesley Mills.”
Maxwell laughed.
“Mills is your mother’s family name. Besides, you look like your mother when she was a young girl. Anyone who knows you and her can spot the resemblance.” Maxwell’s simple truth took him off guard.
He shook his head, still shaken to the core. “You’ve known all along and said nothing. If you were my father’s close friend, how could you betray him?” At last. An explanation. Maybe even a request for forgiveness.
“I didn’t betray Collin. I counseled him as best I could. I begged Collin to let me help him. He thought differently. There was no meeting of the minds, and when a horrible incident happened, he had no options.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your father’s brother had a son. When your aunt died in childbirth, your uncle raised the boy on his own.”
Wesley stared at Maxwell, startled by the information.
“You … you must be confused. My uncle had no son.” Wesley glanced at Maxwell’s head. Perhaps he had been hit too hard.
The man smiled and patted his arm. “Your father and uncle each had one son.”
“Surely, I know my own family …” Strange, Maxwell didn’t appear daft. On the contrary, his eyes were gentle, with understanding.
Maxwell said nothing.
“It was just the four of us: Father, Mother, Fynn, and me,” Wesley said in a rush of words.
Maxwell’s sad expression didn’t change. Wesley stared at him across a sudden ringing silence.
“Fynn is not my brother?” Maxwell didn’t respond. Wesley took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.
“Your uncle overindulged the boy and made him a difficult child, never satisfied, and thought himself better than others.”
Wesley agreed with Maxwell’s assessment of Fynn, but he struggled with the information. He searched his memory for signs, words, anything to confirm or deny what Maxwell said. Was it some trick to pit the brothers against each other? He let that thought die. From everything he experienced with Maxwell, the man was honest and truthful.
“Collin and his brother were always at odds over the boy. Your uncle left the boy on his own. Collin cautioned him. He needed a strong hand. Many of us tried to reason with him. You were five when your uncle died. Fynn was ten. Collin felt a duty to the boy, and a bit of guilt he hadn’t done more. That doesn’t matter now. He took the boy in. As he grew older, his issues grew with him.” Maxwell stared into the fire with a faraway look.
“Why did Lord Ewan cast us out of Dundhragon?”
“You weren’t cast out. Your father chose to leave. No one wanted him to go, least of all Lord Ewan.” Maxwell turned to him. “No one wanted his nephew to stay.”
Fynn. Wesley closed his eyes. The truth was there all along. How many times did he say their exile was his fault? Anger rippled up his spine, anger at his father for being stubborn, anger at Fynn for his trickery and deception, and anger at himself for not seeing the truth.
“Fynn was a wild child who turned into an even wilder young man. He used your father’s position with Lord Ewan and expected … no, he demanded unreasonable liberties. A mean-spirited boy, Fynn terrorized the staff, others his age, even some adults. He was the reason your mother insisted you foster with her family in England. She called Fynn an evil influence.”
“Mother brought me to her family when I was ten. Father visited us from time to time, but we rarely came back to Scotland.” Images and pieces of conversations long forgotten came to mind like driftwood washed ashore on the incoming tide.
“Time after time, Lord Ewan told Collin to clip Fynn’s sails, but your father gave excuses for his behavior, said he would grow out of it. But over the years, things didn’t change. Collin took him on trading voyages, and he got into more trouble.
“Your father, Lord Ewan, and I went to Inverlochy. Our trip
didn’t go as we planned and we returned early. We commiserated in the hall drinking ale. Lord Ewan went to speak to Keira. There was a commotion in the upper hall. We thought the castle under siege.
“We rushed up the steps two at a time, our swords drawn. We followed the screams to Maria’s room.” He didn’t interrupt Maxwell. There was something about his haunted look. He was back in the castle all those years ago. “We pulled Lord Ewan off Fynn. Maria cowered in hysterics, Keira wrapped around her. The poor girl didn’t have to say anything, her torn clothes and badly bruised body spoke for itself. Fynn insisted Maria tricked him into coming to her room and begged him to bed her.
“Because Lord Ewan loved your father, he didn’t kill Fynn. Instead, he banished Fynn from Dundhragon, never to return under penalty of death. I told you your father was a proud man. He stood up to Lord Ewan and told him if he banished Fynn, he too would leave. Your father and Fynn left that night.
“Banishment comes at a price. Your father forfeited his business and ships. Lord Ewan did have a heart. He allowed your father to keep your mother’s inheritance, her parents’ house, and her modest yearly allowance.”
“Only to take it away from Fynn when Father died, along with all Father’s money.” His words were loaded with bitterness.
“The house and the money belonged to your mother and her heir, not him.”
Wesley stared at Maxwell at the implication. The house and funds belonged … to him?
Maxwell remained quiet for some time.
Wesley took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Had he been as foolish as his father, so willing to believe Fynn’s tales and blame anyone but his father for the family’s situation?
“For the last three years, since Father died, Fynn’s told me lies. He always blamed Lord Ewan.” He let out a chuckle, a dry cynical sound. “I should have believed him when he declared the family downfall was his fault.”
“It’s probably the one truth he told you.”
Deep down, he knew Maxwell was right. He’d witnessed Fynn’s meanness firsthand, his disregard for others. This crusade of Fynn’s to destroy Lord Ewan and Maxwell had nothing to do with avenging his father, but to erase the evidence of his guilt. His motivation these last three years was based on Fynn’s invented lies.
He bent his head in his hands and felt as adrift as the debris in the water below. Fynn made him his accomplice. And he went willingly. He was as bound to Fynn as his father and look how that ended, his father dead and his family in ruin.
“Come.” Maxwell stood. “It’s time for us to go up to the castle.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wesley sat in the garrison with Maxwell and the other men. The odor of burning wood, the undertone of wet wool, and the murmur of quiet conversation sat heavy in the air. Men wrapped in blankets huddled around the hearth. Staff from the castle passed among them serving ale and bread.
One by one, each of Wesley’s offenses against the Association, Maxwell, Lord Ewan, and Darla flashed in front of him. He had no way to contact Fynn, not after the storm. No way to confront him. At the moment all he could do was wait.
The doors to the garrison opened. Everyone turned and a hush blanketed over the room. Lord Ewan stood motionless in the doorway for a moment.
Wesley examined the man’s face. His eyes had the gentle concern Wesley associated with his father and a pang of loss hit him. Would he be merciful or as ruthless as Fynn painted him?
Maxwell left his side and stood behind him.
Lord Ewan walked amid the men, stopping to speak to each one. No harsh words were spoken. On the contrary, Wesley overheard his lordship commend each man for his bravery. He witnessed the concerned leader hold injured men, adjust their blankets, help them lift their ale. The leader magically transformed the huddled men from tragic to heroic figures. He made his way to Maxwell’s side.
“Maxwell, I’m glad you and your men are safe. Those rocks are deadly during a storm. I waited for an opportunity to send my men. You’re fortunate there was a lull in the weather.”
Wesley studied the relationship between the two men in another light, not as conspirators, but rather as close friends.
“I was told none were lost,” Lord Ewan said.
“Yes. My men owe a debt of gratitude to Wesley.” Maxwell placed a hand on his shoulder. “He rescued Darla from the ship. Once she was safe, he helped the men come ashore and made sure every man was accounted for while Captain Richards administered to them.”
Wesley’s heart raced. What would the Lord Ewan do when he recognized him?
“Wesley,” Lord Ewan said to him.
“Yes, sir.” He took a deep breath and rose to his feet, the blanket around his shoulders slipped to the ground. He peered into the clear observant eyes of his lordship, and let out the breath he held. There was no light of recognition in the man’s eyes. Perhaps Maxwell was wrong about the resemblance.
“You have my gratitude for keeping my friend, his daughter, and crew safe. I’ll want you to tell me all about your ordeal after you rest.”
Lord Ewan’s praise, genuinely given, calmed him more by how he spoke than what he said. Deep down Wesley understood his actions may be praiseworthy, but he cringed that his motives were not.
“For now, sit. Warm yourself. You’ve earned your rest,” Lord Ewan said in a gentle tone.
Wesley lowered himself to the floor and pulled the blanket close. Where was the ogre Fynn painted? All he heard in Lord Ewan’s voice was gratitude and respect.
“Before you say anything,” Lord Ewan said to Maxwell, “there are two things we need to discuss. One, Fynn and his band of pirates are in the area. The Black Opal was seen. My men are searching for him. He is well aware that if he is found, he will be killed. He holds a grudge against us both, which leads me to the second item. Darla told me what happened in Ellenbeich. I think Fynn is behind the incident. It is meant to be an attack against you. Keeping the family in Ellenbeich is no longer feasible. A new strategy is needed. We’ve spoken of this before. You cannot wait, Darla cannot wait. She needs a protector. I gave this some thought, and I want to discuss my plans with you. Are you up to it?”
“Yes, but a protector? She is with you and Eugena to find a husband, not a protector.”
“I agree, but if a match isn’t found, then a protector will be the best alternative. Come, we’ll speak in my solar then we can discuss what can be salvaged from the wreck. I want to go over a special surprise with you, for our pirate. Then we’ll join your men in the hall,” Lord Ewan said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wesley stared at the two men as they left the barracks in animated discussion.
Until his father’s death three years ago, he hadn’t seen Fynn more than once a year. He closed his eyes not wanting to face the truth. Images of the cliff steps by Glesanda and his father lying broken at the bottom emerged. The rain was relentless. He was to meet his father by the cliff but was detained. He rubbed his face with his hand, trying to wipe the images away, but they persisted.
The rock steps were slick after the rain. If he had been with him—he could have saved him. It was an old argument that went through his mind over and over those first days after the funeral. He stayed for weeks going through his father’s papers and business dealings only to find the house became the property of Lord Ewan and there was no money left.
That’s when Fynn whispered in his ear. Day after day he flooded him with tales of Lord Ewan and Maxwell stripping the family of everything. Fynn gladly provided the details of the sacrifices he made to protect his father and him. By the end of his stay, Wesley believed each of the revelations.
Fynn may have lashed out at him with lies and betrayal, but it was time he parried with truth and honesty.
He groaned knowing he betrayed Maxwell, the Association, and Darla. He shuddered at the thought he was like Fynn and bent his head covering his face with his hands.
Darla.
He raised his head. He needed to speak to Maxw
ell. From his experience at the English court, he knew all about protectors who assumed they had complete authority over their charge. He knew some protectors who decided their responsibilities included limitless access to the woman as well as her funds. If anyone was going to protect Darla, it would be him. Maxwell may not agree, but he would make every effort to convince him.
He raked his hand through his hair. First, he had to confront Fynn, and in order to do that, he had to keep him alive, find him before Lord Ewan’s men.
He got to his feet and made his way to the door. His footsteps thundered down the corridor as he headed out of the castle toward the cavern.
A mist shrouded his way down the rocky slope. The weather turned into a light rain by the time he reached the Grotto.
“Wesley, over here.” Fynn stood alone trying to keep warm by the embers of the dying fire.
“Ewan knows you’re here. He has his men looking for you. If anyone finds you, you’ll be killed,” Wesley said.
“Ah, but you, my brother, won’t let that happen.”
Wesley looked at Fynn. The veneer of their days together since his father’s death sloughed off. He looked at the boy he grew up with, the one that terrorized and got pleasure from hurting others. No, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Fynn, not until he had the truth, all of it.
“What did our family do that was so wicked to make Lord Ewan banish us?” he asked.
Fynn’s smile fell. He planted his feet a bit wider and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t scare Wesley.
The wind picked up and the rain came down in sheets. Wesley’s mood fit the changing weather.
“You spoke with Lord Ewan. How can you believe him over me? He’s done nothing but torment Father and our family. While you stayed with her and had your idyllic life in England, with your fancy friends, going to the university and a successful business, I remained with Father—”
“Her? You mean my mother, your aunt?”
Fynn’s face turned white. No denial. No objection. Maxwell had told the truth.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“He was like a father to me. He was the one who cared about me, not her. You were the center of her universe. You don’t remember how she hated me.”
The Pirate’s Jewel Page 14