Bring Me the Horizon (10 page)

“Keep it in check, brother. ’Twas not St. Augustine who sunk your ship,” Cutler reminded him.

“Nor was it the lass, Cutler,” Kipp added.

Cutler clamped down on his jaw, reeling in the acidic comments at Kipp’s absurdity. “Of course she was.”

“Kipp’s right,” Zane said. “We may be here because of her, but she didn’t fire the first shot.”

Cutler crossed his arms over his chest. So they would band against him, would they? “She might as well have. Her deceit set this all in motion.”

“Seems to me,” Blade intervened, “that she is not unlike any one of us at this table.”

Cutler scoffed. How ridiculous.

Blade pointed a challenging finger at him. “Who is your family?”

Without hesitation or thought, Cutler answered. “The brethren.”

“Aye. But who is
your
family?” Blade pressed further.

“You and Zane. My brothers. My only real family since childhood.”

“And what if Carrion had murdered one of us? What would you do then?”

“I’d serve the son of a bitch’s entrails up to the devil, I would.”

Zane nodded. “As would I.”

“And I,” said Blade.

“Point taken.” Cutler looked away, nodding, but hating where Blade was going with his inquest. “Our loyalty is thicker than blood.”

“Graciela was doing what any one of us would have done,” Blade said. “But to carry it out she needed help.”

“Which she lied about,” Cutler added.

“So she did. And we can sort out the injustices later, ” Zane said. “But don’t tell me you wouldn’t also lie if it meant retribution for our deaths.”

Cutler mumbled a curse. Given that, there was no doubt. He’d say anything if it meant avengement.

“Don’t persecute the lass for having the heart of a pirate,” Blade said. “Nay, for having a heart so broken, she took matters into her own tiny hands.”

Bloody bastards.

A thousand plagues to them for being right. His anger flowed from him like a spilled drink, draining away and leaving him empty. He regretted his hateful stinging words spoken to her, regretted sending her away like rubbish. Gracie was a woman with a strong backbone. Timid at times, but never wavering from her ambitious intent. ’Twas more than he could say about most. She must have known she might not survive. And yet she tried. With his grisly childhood, this he understood.

More than that was how she made him feel. Alive. Hopeful. And something deeper. Something like what he felt for Antonia but more complete, requited.

And he sent her away.

What an arsehole—all too willing to rid himself of her to keep himself safe. Coward. ’Twas clear now, ’twas easier to place blame and throw her in the same lot as that she-snake.

He would find her and set things right. He’d get back what his heart had already laid claim to. But first...

“Even after our altercation, I don’t believe Carrion would be foolish enough to attack either of our ships without some sort of real provocation.” Cutler leaned forward in his chair and grasped his mug with both hands. “The entire Caribbean brethren would hunt him down. ’Twould be suicidal and gain him nothing.”

Zane let out a long growling sigh, his fist clenched against his mouth. “My crew was quietly focused on the shore fortifications while those on the docks were readying for a land battle with Carrion. Not an attack on
Triumph
. They were standing by to set sail. None of my boys on board would have risked my wrath by starting a war with Carrion.”

“You should ask Richard how it started,” Kipp said offhandedly, just as he took a healthy quaff from his cup.

“Why’s that?” Zane said.

“Saw the mackie rowing a boat between the ships just ’fore hell broke loose. Tossed somethin’ in the water. Couldn’t tell what. Mayhap he knows what happened.”

“Monk hadn’t said anything before.” Cutler’s curiosity peaked. “Bring him to me. If he knows something, we might bring him before the brethren court and be rid of the Carrion once and for all.”

“I’d fetch ’im,” Kipp answered, “but can’t find the bloke nowhere.”

“Probably off to pray.” Even as Cutler said it, he didn’t believe it. Richard had gone after Gracie like she was a wounded bitch in heat. That chafed him like a rope slipping through his hands, peeling away his flesh.

He warred with himself over running after her. But his duty was to save his men from the noose. “All right, men,” he said. “Let us talk of a riot and rescue our boys.”

“This cathedral has been under construction since it burned to the ground in 1702 by Carolina governor Moore.” Richard led Gracie through the shell of the church.

Its tall ceilings had her in awe. She’d never been in a building so stately. Recessed windows of colored glass were high above and grand wooden beams crossed the ceiling. Planks of rich wood were stacked and leaning against the unfinished walls. Though ’twas merely the bones, Gracie imagined that once the cathedral was finished with its gilded statues of saints, carved pews, and painted walls, the holy place would be majestic.

Her skirt’s hem stirred up the dust, dirt and wood shavings on the floor. She stepped around a large coil of rope, the end dangling from the pulley in the rafters. “Where are the carpenters?” she asked.

“There’s to be a hanging in front of the government house,” he said. “Everyone attends.”

“Oh, how awful.”

He shrugged and set down his Bible on a stool. “’Tis best as we have privacy in His house.”

Gracie admired the long nave. “Amazing.”

“Aye,” Richard said. “A glorious place to pray and seek forgiveness.”

She looked up at him, startled by the severe lines of his frown. “What’s wrong?”

“He is unworthy of you, Graciela.” He faced her, then, slowly settling his critical gaze upon her. “He cannot protect you the way I can.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Perhaps she was more afraid that she knew
exactly
what he meant. She simply did not want to believe it.

“I think you do. Cutler is a man born of wickedness.”

“Wasn’t it you who said we are all born of sin?” she countered. “Doesn’t God forgive us for all our faults?”

“He would only lead you on the path of hell. His defiance to his maker has cursed him incapable of compassion and love.”

“No.” She turned away, unwilling to accept Richard’s judgment. “A broken heart can be healed.”

“He has no heart. He’s a pirate.”

“You are his friend. Why do you speak of him with an ill tongue?”

“He refuses atonement, puts Fox and Tyburn, treasurers and titles, above me and God.”

“
You
and God?” Odd that he put himself before God. She turned to confront him. “If he is so wicked, why do you sail with him?”

“I’ve had no other life than the sea. My time studying on land left me with a deep longing to return. Under Banning, I could practice my teachings among the men and hoped to change his immoral ways. But, alas, he is cut from the devil’s cloth. I must move on to someone else needing holy guidance.” He put his hand on her shoulder, the weight bothersome. “A woman such as you needs to be saved, Graciela.”

Suddenly uncomfortable with his close proximity, she shrugged off Richard’s hold and walked toward the chancel to distance herself from him. “I do not need to be saved.” Another lie. She needed to be saved from herself.

He followed close behind. “I can protect you.”

“From who? Cutler? He’s already thrown me away.” Her bitter declaration tore at her shredded heart.

“Once he finds out the truth, he’ll come for you.” He crowded her into the church’s small transept.

“Truth?” She faced him, inching backward deeper into the nook.

“By the grace of God, I can love you. Body and soul.” He took the final steps trapping her in the alcove.

“Richard—”

“I will save you.” He grabbed her arms and smashed his lips to hers.

Gracie tried to pull away, but he was too strong. She couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to smell his need, feel his mouth.

Richard broke off, but didn’t lessen his grip. “Lord,” he groaned. “You taste better than I imagined.”

“Please, Richard. You mustn’t do this.”

“If a man’s to sin, then what better way to fall than with a pretty, unorthodox woman like you.” His violating gaze roamed her face. “We can learn much from one another—our faiths, our sins.” He drew out his last word, a darkness eclipsing his eyes.

“God is looking upon you now, Richard.”

A treacherous grin stole across his mouth as he looked up and around the crafted ceiling. “Yes. Let Him bless our union.”

Shaken, panic flooded her veins. Gracie was alone in this empty cathedral with a man whom she had felt safe around. And she was much too small to fight him off. She had to finesse her way out of this. “I’ve agreed to no union.”

Richard’s gaze roamed back to Gracie. “Yes you did,” he said flatly. “When you said you owed me for my friendship.”

“You’re mad!” Instinct kicked in and she struggled to break free.

“I never understood how lust drove good men to the devil...until now. You are so lovely.” He pulled her to his chest, squeezing so she could hardly move. “Give yourself to me and I will save you,” he rasped.

He kissed her again, pinching her lips against her teeth. She thrashed her head breaking the contact. Richard forced her back into a stack of lumber flush against the wall. The corners of the planks dug into her calves, the sting buckling her legs. Though he tried to keep them from falling, the momentum was too great. Down they went, sprawling to the floor.

Gracie twisted away, crawling on her hands and knees.

Richard snatched her ankle and she collapsed on her belly. Dust coated her lungs as she gasped for air.

“Get back here.” He yanked and she slapped her palms to the filthy floor.

Pulling her skirts up to her waist, Richard flipped her over.

“Please Richard, no.”

He straddled her, pinning her wrists with his fists.

“Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “You’re a man of God.”

He smiled a piteous smile. “There is no sin in love, Graciela.”

Christ, he’s deranged!
How could she reason with madness. “Love is earned. You’ve earned my friendship, nothing more.”

“In time, child.”

“Never.”

“You will,” he nodded. “The sacrificial lamb bleats, but obedience to His servant sets her free.”

CHAPTER 9

Cutler scanned the red western sky. The sun had been engulfed by heavy gray clouds steadily rolling closer. Rain thick in the winds saturated the air. ’Twouldn’t be long and the skies would open. Good for washing away spilled blood.

He stopped at a storefront window, pretending to admire the hats on display. He listened to the activities in the nearby streets. No tell-tale signs of rioting. But soon.

And that prompted him to keep looking for Gracie. He needed her safe from harm.

A pretty stranger in a yellow dress was easy to track. A street vendor had said she was accompanied by a gentleman carrying a book. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that Richard was her escort should have made him feel better about her safety. It did not.

Richard’s behavior chewed at Cutler. Deliberately sneaking into his quarters where the key to Gracie’s adjoining cabin lay in his desk drawer. Using that key to gain access to her. Spending more than acceptable time with her—
his
ward. What role did Richard play in the battle with Carrion and
Triumph’s
sinking? He had no reason to be in a rowboat between the skirmishing vessels, or throwing a pistol into the bay. Cutler confirmed Richard had not been on Zane’s ship, either. Richard, a righteous man, waded arse-deep in immorality with obsession and jealousy. Wars among countries had started over the affections of one woman. Had Richard waged a war?

As Cutler thought about that with a critical eye, he was certain of it. This but saddened
and
angered him. Richard, his childhood friend whom suffered the same horrors and injustices as Cutler, betrayed him. He was parasitic. Teetering on the life of depravity, as Richard called it, the priest enjoyed the spoils of Cutler’s band of pirates. And Cutler justified it to the men that Richard blessed each of them at every weigh of the anchor. Cutler didn’t believe in that bilge. But he did it for Richard, because they had a bond, and Cutler felt an obligation to him and their friendship. Well, no more.

The long shadows of a cathedral at the end of the avenue stretched out toward him, beckoning him with an unholy foreboding. She was there; he knew it. Richard would have taken her someplace safe, sanctified. What he couldn’t explain was the overwhelming feeling she was in danger.

He trotted to the stone, columned facade and eased open the heavy door.

Cutler didn’t belong there, had no use for a god who didn’t answer the prayers of boys stolen from their homes, beat into mindless scratchings and made to endure unthinkable tortures. Though Cutler found his peace long ago, he was a trespasser in His house.

Voices, scuffling echoed off the bare walls beyond the narthex. Cutler drew his cutlass, edging out of the church’s entrance. Movement near the front in the alcove.

“Richard, no!”

Gracie’s cries hurtled Cutler across the room. Richard had his woman in a compromising position, wrestling to shove his tongue down her throat. Shit! Bare legs kicked wildly in an effort to buck him off.

“Monk!” His voice thundered so loud, surely the rafters above shook.

Richard scrambled to his feet, putting himself in front of Gracie. By the way her wide-eyed stare passed between Cutler and Richard, she was terrified. She didn’t know who to fear most. It pained Cutler that she saw him as a threat. It shouldn’t be so. His own doing.

“I’m unarmed.” Richard raised his hands no higher than his waist.

“’Tis amazing how much damage can be done without a weapon.” Cutler inched closer, his sword at the ready.

Richard smiled, spreading his arms wider, his palms open. “No harm done.”

“Permit me to disagree. Let us start with your pistol lying at the bottom of Matanzas Bay.”

Richard didn’t flinch, his stare unwavering.

“
You
fired the first shot between
Sablewing
and
Triumph
.
You
started the battle from the longboat.”