Of Noble Birth (20 page)

Nathaniel filled the
portal, his face thunderous. “There you are,” he growled. “What are
you trying to do, kill the entire lot of us, yourself included? Or
would you have
us
kill
them?”

Alexandra threw a glance
toward the schooner she had been trying to signal. There was no
visible evidence that they had seen her. They kept the same
position they had from the beginning, though the voices from above
continued.

“I’m not trying to kill
anybody.” She pressed her back against the wall as two long strides
brought Nathaniel so close she could reach out and touch him. “I’m
trying to save myself, and possibly that boy you injured, before
anyone else gets hurt.”

“The best chance that
boy’s got at saving his hand is with Nanchu. The
Horizon’s
own surgeon
would have hacked it off directly. And that’s what will happen to
him still, if he returns now. Why do you think I brought him here
in the first place?”

Alexandra shook her head.
“I have no idea, but perhaps you’ll forgive me if I didn’t see it
as an act of charity.” She let sarcasm enter her own voice, using
it to conceal her fear as Nathaniel’s face twisted into an angry
grimace.

“Don’t make judgments on
matters you know nothing about,” he snapped. “That boy asked for
everything he got. And as for you and your safety, I’m taking you
home directly.”

“You’re what?” Alexandra
dropped her shield of outrage as surprise took its
place.

“You heard me.”

“So what now?” She stared
at the shards of glass at her feet. They reflected Nathaniel’s dark
image, contorting his handsome face into something more akin to a
monster.

“That depends on what
the
Voyager
makes
of your little mirror trick.” He grabbed her by the wrist and
pulled her from the room. “If they open fire, there’s no
telling.”

Alexandra shivered,
remembering the morning’s battle against the
Eastern Horizon.
The
Vengeance
had rocked
violently, making her stomach churn with seasickness. Smoke had
burned her throat and brought tears to her eyes, and her ears still
rang with the blast of cannon. The worst of it was the fear: not
knowing whether they’d take a ball and sink into a watery grave, or
be captured, or come off victorious, which, for Alexandra, might
prove just as bad.

If they open
fire...
she heard Nathaniel’s words again
in her mind. The schooner had seemed like a lifeline. She was
desperate to get away from Nathaniel before... before what? Before
he refused to shield her from Rat? Before she witnessed any more
proof that he was the blackguard she had originally thought he
was?

She remembered the
powerful response his touch evoked in her, and felt a deep-seated
panic nearly overwhelm her. She craved the kiss of a criminal, a
thief, a pirate. Somehow she had to protect herself from that
alone.

But the
Vengeance
couldn’t
surrender. Nathaniel and his crew had to fight, or they would
probably hang. And how many might be killed in the
process?

Nathaniel retrieved a bit
of rope when they reached his cabin, but Alexandra raised a hand to
forestall him.

“That won’t be necessary,”
she said in resignation. “I’ll stay put.”

The pirate captain quirked
an eyebrow at her, obviously skeptical, but shrugged. “It’s
probably too late anyway,” he said, throwing the rope back into the
corner. “The damage has already been done. Besides, if something
should happen to me, I wouldn’t want you trapped below.”

He moved to go, but
Alexandra reached out, catching him by the arm. “I’m sorry,” she
said when he turned back. “I—I suppose I panicked.”

Cupping her chin in his
hand, Nathaniel tilted her face up. He studied her for a moment as
she gazed into his eyes, blue eyes of almost unfathomable depth.
Then he dropped his hand and disappeared down the corridor without
another word.

* * *

Alexandra almost screamed
when the sound of cannon fire shattered the still night air.
Peering through the porthole, she saw a series of small orange
flashes in the vicinity of the other ship, and nearly swooned. It
was happening. The schooner was attacking.

The
Royal Vengeance
shuddered as
Nathaniel and his crew returned fire, causing Alexandra’s stomach
to turn queasy again. The ship already swayed drunkenly against a
strong breeze, rising and falling on great troughs of water like a
horse jumping hedges, and the weather promised only to make matters
worse. Dark clouds obscured the stars, revealing only a faint slice
of moon, and the wind whistled through the rigging above. Its
keening wail, though barely audible in the cabin, sent a chill of
foreboding down Alexandra’s spine all the same.

A second round of shot
barked from the big guns, and Alexandra threw herself on the bed.
What fate would befall her? What fate would befall them all? How
could she have been so thoughtless? She had wanted only to escape
and to save the injured Jake before matters grew even worse, but
she had probably signed the boy’s death warrant along with her
own.

Somehow, the thought of
Nathaniel floating in the briny water gave her little solace. She
might have practiced a thousand forms of revenge upon the pirate
captain in her dreams, but his slow, sardonic smile always taunted
her in the end.

She groaned aloud and
covered her ears, attempting to block out the din of battle.
Grabbing one of the pillows, she buried her head beneath it until
the sound of feet running down the companionway made her sit up and
take notice. What was happening?

Crossing to the portal,
Alexandra poked her head out just as a thin young man she didn’t
know came charging down the hallway.

“What is it?” she asked in
alarm.

“Just goin’ for more
powder, miss. Can’t store powder near the big guns, ye know. Might
explode the whole ship. With the storm it’d only get wet
anyway.”

He hurried on as Alexandra
closed the door. So they were preparing for a serious fight.
Returning to the window, she clung to the bedpost for support,
straining her eyes to see beyond the darkness.

Lanterns dimly lit the
opponent’s ship between the brief, fiery flashes of cannon fire.
The schooner wasn’t more than a quarter of a mile away.

Vaguely Alexandra wondered
about the
Vengeance’s
chance of survival. How many men vied for their destruction?
What kind of firepower did the schooner have? She knew next to
nothing about cannons or gunfire or sailing, but the danger of
battle after nightfall and in the middle of a storm seemed obvious
enough.

The ship lurched to one
side, and Alexandra yelped as she landed hard on her backside. She
could scarcely rise for the ship’s movements, but when water began
to creep beneath the door, covering the floor like a thin layer of
ice, she sprang to her feet.

They were sinking! Why
else would water be rising so quickly?

Alexandra’s fear of closed
places once again reared its head, and she sloshed toward the door.
The water reached her ankles now, making the polished wood slick.
But she wasn’t about to be caught in the cabin, buried by water,
pressed somewhere to the ceiling.

The door opened easily
against the pressure of the water coming down the corridor, but
Alexandra had to fight that same current as she made her way
forward. Were they taking on water from above because of the storm,
or below due to a ball, or both?

A man came up from behind,
startling Alexandra as she waded through the icy coldness. He
shoved her aside in his haste, carrying more powder, no doubt. The
sound of cannon still reverberated above all else, despite the
water, despite the storm, despite everything.

This time Nathaniel was
not at the wheel when Alexandra emerged on deck. She was almost
completely drenched, doused by the water pouring down upon her head
as she climbed up the slippery ladder, but it didn’t matter because
the storm finished the job, quickly wetting her to the skin. Rain
slanted into her face, stinging droplets that pelted them all,
though the men, who yelled and cursed and rushed about cleaning
cannon muzzles and trimming sails, seemed oblivious.

Alexandra instinctively
searched for Nathaniel. She had to see that he was in control to
give herself some small scrap of hope and perhaps relieve her fear.
But she couldn’t identify one man from another. A palpable urgency
ran like a current through all on board as they ducked against the
elements and fought to control the ship while getting off another
round of shot.

Alexandra hugged the mast
to help keep her balance. Then she saw him. Nathaniel stood near
the binnacle, muscles taut as he kept his footing on the rollicking
deck. His shirt gaped open to the waist and billowed in the wind as
spray from the frothy ocean mingled with rain to course down his
bare torso in rivulets. His black hair dripped water onto his
chiseled face; his teeth gleamed as he shouted instructions to his
crew.

“Nathaniel,” she cried,
shoving away from the mast to force her way toward him. Her voice
was drowned out by pistols that popped like toy guns as the crews
of both ships drew firearms and began to pick men off from the
opposing deck.

Alexandra took a deep
breath and called Nathaniel again. She didn’t know what she wanted
to tell the pirate captain. No doubt he already knew about the
water filling the ship; his men slogged through it to retrieve the
gunpowder stored below. But Nathaniel was always so self-assured.
Surely his confidence would comfort her now.

“There’s water down below.
Are we sinking?” she cried above the cacophony of storm and bullets
when she reached him.

He turned, apparently
noticing her for the first time, and scowled. “What are you doing
up here?”

“I can’t stay
below.”

Lightning flashed across
the sky, momentarily illuminating the entire scene and freezing it
in Alexandra’s mind’s eye like the painting of some famous naval
battle. The other ship approached just off the bow, so close she
could nearly jump from one deck to the other. It looked for all the
world as though they would collide.

In the same moment she saw
a man high in the schooner’s rigging. He held a pistol trained on
Nathaniel. She knew its ball was meant for the captain just as she
could feel its owner’s concentration, sense his struggle to keep
his aim steady despite the wildly bobbing ship. And she knew the
instant he pulled the trigger.

Nathaniel motioned her to
go back, distracted by her presence and obviously preoccupied by
the menace of collision. He yelled something to Trenton at the
wheel that Alexandra neither heard nor understood. Time seemed to
stand still as the crack of the pistol resounded, singularly loud
in Alexandra’s ears but probably negligible amid the general
tumult.

“No.” Alexandra mouthed
the word and launched her body toward the pirate captain. She
noticed the look of stunned surprise that claimed his features
right before something hit her shoulder, knocking her down with
such force that she wondered if he had struck her. Certainly a
bullet didn’t feel this way. There was no sting.

In the next instant her
shoulder was on fire, sending white-hot, searing pain radiating
throughout her chest and back.

Her hand rose to examine
the wound. Something warm and sticky burned her fingers like hot
water tingling frosty toes. She found a hole, how big she had no
idea, nor did she trouble herself to feel further as she lay on her
back, staring into the black expanse of sky overhead.

“She’s been shot.”
Nathaniel’s anxious voice came to her as though from a distance.
She understood his words; she knew by then, too, that she had taken
the bullet intended for him. But strangely enough, she didn’t
regret her actions. His well-sculpted features appeared above her,
worry etched into the crease of his brow, just as the
Vengeance
suddenly
keeled and nearly upended in the mountainous waves.

Alexandra felt herself
slide across the deck, carried by the icy cold tongue of the ocean,
and began to flail in panic, despite the pain in her shoulder. She
was being swept overboard. She felt Nathaniel try to grab her, felt
her arm tear away from his fingers, then screamed as her body
plunged into the freezing water.