“Bos’un! We’ve only got a matter
of minutes before all hell breaks loose.”
He leaned her head back until only
she could hear him. “Whatever you do,
trust no one but
me
.”
She focused on the woodwork
above her head. Did he honestly expect
her
to trust
him
? Ridiculous! Captain
Collins and Lieutenant Guffald were
risking their lives or were perhaps even
now lying on deck, dead. They deserved
her loyalty, her trust.
“I trust no one,” she admitted,
“especially pirates. Kill me now and be
done with it!”
“What a loss that would be,” the
pirate aggrieved.
Constance suddenly grew bolder.
“A loss of your sport!”
“Aye. But no one else will help
you. You’d best figure that out soon. If
you want to get off this ship alive, you’ll
do what I say.”
“It’s time, bos’un!”
The demon growled, an ominous
sound belying his vow of protection. He
peered over her shoulder at the man in
the doorway. Hard, lean, there was no
escaping the tight rein on her shoulders.
“We stand to lose everything if we
don’t appear on deck,” the harassing
man continued.
Constance’s captor turned her
around to face him. She barely reached
his shoulder and had to tilt her face up to
meet his. “Remember what I said. You’ll
be safe with me. Stay by my side. And
whatever you do, do not look the captain
in the eyes.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Would you trust Simon Danbury?”
he asked.
Of course, she thought. But that was
— impossible! “How do you know that
name?”
“It doesn’t matter. Would you trust
him?” he gritted between his teeth.
“With my life,” she vowed.
His fingers dug into her shoulders.
“Then trust
me
.”
“I’m
afraid,”
she
confessed,
choking back a sob.
“You have no other choice. Or
would you prefer taking your petition to
Captain Frink? I guarantee you’ll not
find him as accommodating.”
She had no time to answer. The
man tugged her bound hands, then
dragged her along behind him. His
strides were sure, lengthy, and quick. It
took every ounce of her strength to
maintain her footing as they left the cabin
and thread their way through the
companionway up onto the deck. Along
the way, she stumbled here and there in
the darkness, trying to keep up with his
strides. Once, she lost contact with the
man and, reaching down to right herself,
came into contact with a large form
coated with something warm and wet.
She wiped her sticky hand on her shift
hastily and kept her eyes trained upon
first the ceiling, then the night sky, after
realizing, with horror, her error.
“Keep up,” he shouted, grabbing
her hands when she lagged behind,
looking back at her more than once. “If
you want freedom, you must earn it.”
All Constance had ever wanted
was her freedom, freedom from her
father’s overprotection, the pressures to
increase his coffers, not to mention an
unsuitable forced marriage. Now, as she
ascended the steps that lead to her
certain execution, once again she clung
to a pirate’s hand with vigorous zeal,
unwilling to be parted.
“Don’t kill me,” she pleaded.
He turned, his eye narrowing, anger
marring his features. “If you trust
me
,
you shall have your freedom.”
Gunfire sparked the night. She
screamed. Her actions drew men with
crazed expressions toward her.
“Stay calm,” he warned. “That’ll
keep you alive.”
Her eyes roamed over the once
pristine ship, unrecognizable now as she
scanned the broken debris searching for
signs of Captain Collins and Lieutenant
Guffald. She could barely make out a
man in garish clothing through the
crowd, lurching over a man’s form,
shouting, waving his sword to all who
would listen.
“Keep to my back,” her captor
warned. “Do not feast your eyes upon
the carnage ahead.”
They moved closer to the crowded
men positioned at the bow. Bodies of the
unfortunate
lay
scattered
about,
illumined by fires aboard ship, forcing
her to remember another ship, another
night, and the last glimpse of her
mother’s face. Her legs threatened to
buckle as a man’s scream pierced the
darkness and her captor’s arm tensed.
She squeezed his hand, mindful to keep
her eyes trained upon her feet. But she
could not remain detached from her
surroundings long. A flash of light to her
left drew her attention. Near that lighted
torch, she spied two men picking through
a limp man’s pockets. Her eyes focused
on the poor soul, his blond hair bloody,
body vulnerable, yet somehow familiar.
Another torch made everything clear.
Constance
gasped.
Lieutenant
Guffald! With a terrified plea, she tried
unsuccessfully to jerk free of the pirate’s
grasp in order to aid the wounded
lieutenant. But she could not pull free.
The grip on her arm remained
unrelentingly firm.
“Do not fight me,” he growled.
Another scream rent the air like
thunder and lightning during a storm. She
could no longer fight the urge to
discover its source. Curiosity getting the
best of her, she peered around the
pirate’s arm until her gaze locked upon
Captain Collins tied to the mizzen mast.
The sight emerged so horrific, Constance
sank into the abyss.
• • •
Lady Constance Danbury in his arms.
Surrounded by the stench of death and
misery, she posed a shapely, unwelcome
mystery he had no time to explore. Why
Simon Danbury’s niece was on the
Octavia
in the first place he couldn’t
comprehend. Her presence aboard the
merchantman put him in a tenuous
position. She was not what he needed.
Not now, not when he’d been so close to
achieving everything he’d worked so
hard to attain, vengeance. His mind
weathered the odds of fate that bound
him to a woman he simply had no time to
rescue.
Simon Danbury’s directive had
placed him under Captain Frink’s
command. The coordinated efforts of
members within Nelson’s Tea dictated
routes taken to sabotage the madman’s
attacks on various cargos sailing the
Channel. Frink’s association with his
sister’s killers created a division of
loyalties within him. He’d lived and
fought for eight months to win the
depraved captain’s trust. Now, thanks to
the appearance of one woman, he stood
to lose everything.
Percy cursed his rotten luck. The
irony was inescapable. Mutiny, the last
resort for a pirate, would be his only
chance to get the lady safely off the ship
and back home into Danbury’s expectant
arms. He was not immune to the
ramifications that one miraculous act
would ignite upon his own hide.
“We can’t afford to let anything get
in our way,” Ollie, his second in
command said, grabbing him by the
sleeve. “We’ve come too far to let
anything stop us now.”
He recalled the many lives lost in
their race to catch Frink’s backer and
swore under his breath. None of their
efforts had gone unrewarded. Time and
time again, they’d prevented further
bloodshed. Yet, the primal creature he’d
become in order to stay sane sickened
him.
“Have you lost your sense of
decency?” he spat. “Allowing Simon’s
niece to bear witness to Frink’s
bloodbath is not part of our plan.”
“We do what needs be done. It’s
the only way to collect our golden
goose. You know this better than I.”
Ollie’s words stung more than salt
on a whipped man’s back. He hated
what Ollie had become, what he’d been
forced to become in order to survive
among Frink’s crew. What had happened
to his convictions of right and wrong?
God help him, he was not the man he’d
set out to be at the beginning of this
mission,
especially
if
he
even
considered finding a way to protect the
girl without making the final cut with
Frink.
Percy turned his back on Ollie, then
scanned over the
Octavia
’s remaining
crew, men who’d fought bravely to
protect the woman in his arms — and
lost.
Their
dwindling
numbers
guaranteed his limited options. He’d
have to make a final stand or die.
Ollie hounded him. “If Frink gets
wind of this, he’ll have you killed.”
“That’s a risk we’re going to have
to take.”
Ollie glared at Constance. “What if
the girl recognizes you?”
“That won’t happen.”
“Are you certain? Would you
wager the lives of our men?”
Percy scowled. He rued the day
he’d accepted Simon’s writ and signed
on with Barnabas Frink. Since that
moment, he’d proven his loyalty to the
insane captain again and again in a quest
to find answers to the mystery of his
sister’s death. He’d been flogged
countless times for his endeavors.
Presently, he shifted his hip, allowing
the scars rubbing against the fabric on
his back to remind him how much he’d
sacrificed to get into Frink’s good
graces. He’d put aside his name, his
position among the ton, and denied
himself happiness. What more would he
be asked to give?
“Sexton!” Frink bellowed. Oh, how
the name and invention of Thomas
Sexton blighted Percy’s soul. “What
have you got there?”
Percy’s gaze dropped to the
unconscious woman in his arms. Golden
hair draped over his arm like the
impenetrable shield of an angel in the
aftermath of Armageddon. Tiny, fragile,
she was no fallen angelic warrior, but an
innocent Frink would destroy.
“Bring her here, Sexton. I want her
to join our little gathering.”
Percy exchanged glances with
Ollie, and then gathered Constance’s
shapely form closer to his chest. She
was a Danbury all right, a lioness. For
this reason, he worried for her safety.
One wrong word, one open-ended threat
had sent Frink into a frenzy more times
than he could count.
“Give him no need to admonish
you, lad. You’ll need your strength,” his
first mate, Jacko, said as he sauntered up
alongside.
Keeping his eyes trained on Frink,
Percy made the decision that would
derail every one of his aspirations for
revenge. “Wait for my signal. We cannot
and must not fail.”
Captain Frink appeared to show
signs of losing patience. There was no
mistaking why the man was the most
feared captain known to man. His form-
fitting maroon brocade jacket was
splattered with blood of the innocent.
His face was smeared with oil,
gunpowder, and sulphur. He wore a
maniacal smile that decreed his hunger
had yet to be staunched. Percy hugged
Constance closer to his heart, prepared
to die protecting her, if need be.
“What have you got there, Sexton?”
“A prize worthy of ransom,
Captain,” he pressed, desiring Frink to
treat his captive as a valuable
commodity and not incommodious sport.
Frink’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why
isn’t she conscious? Why have you
denied me her screams of fright and me
crew her delights?”
The threat in Frink’s eye warned
him to take care, but Percy knew the man
had already heard her screams. What
baited hook did the captain dangle
before him?
“She’s weak, Captain,” Ollie
intruded. “We had no more than made
our way onto deck then she fainted dead