The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) (35 page)

Was Mercy in danger? How long had she been gone?

“Keane. James. I want the two of you to search the house.” His two brothers nodded their heads and immediately obeyed him.

“Max and Rigby, come with me.”

“Aye, Garrick.” Max slapped Rigby on the back. “Where do you plan to go?”

Henry fisted his hands. “The last place she was seen… the veranda.”

“The gardens if you cannot find Mercy there.” Adele looked lovingly into Henry’s eyes, raising his fisted hand to her lips. “That is where I would go, if I were her. They are so beautiful in the spring.”

Garrick nodded. “Thank you. We’ll go there first.”

Henry and Adele stepped forward to follow him.

He put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “No. With Percy gone for who knows how long, I need you here. If Keane and James return before we do, send them after us.” Henry couldn’t manage a swift search. And he didn’t want Henry to feel any less worthy of helping him. “If Mercy returns, make sure she stays with you until I come back.”

Henry smiled appreciatively, happy to be able to contribute. “You can count on me.”

Before Garrick left the ballroom, he winked at Adele. Her smile told him how much she appreciated his gesture of including Henry. He wasn’t doing Henry any favors however.
Devil damn me, I do need someone to be here in case she returns.

“Let’s go,” he told his brothers as they stepped across the threshold to the veranda.

The moon was full, casting plenty of light to illuminate their way. Shadows dotted the garden landscape as it opened up before them, jutting away from Sumpton Hall to a meadow and forested hills beyond.

Garrick inhaled the open air, a crisp evergreen scented with lilies and hydrangea, much more welcome than the oppressive odors indoors. But no matter how many times he breathed, he couldn’t seem to fill his lungs. What was wrong with him? He’d withstood deadly gales, ship battles, and being tortured by the enemy. But nothing consumed him as much as not knowing where Mercy was — how she was — if she was alive.

A heavy weight burdened his chest. His heart stung as if a dagger had been rammed inside it. He should have told Mercy how he felt about her when he had the chance. He should have let her in when he’d locked everyone else out.

“Split up,” he ordered. “Max, take the left. Rigby, the right. I’ll make my way down the center of the labyrinth. We’ll join up at the pond just beyond it.”

“Aye. Aye,” his brothers replied.

Pebbles crunched under Garrick’s feet as he made his way down the path, glancing every so often at his brothers’ progress, cursing fate for making him so damned reliant on someone else to protect his left. His vision suffered the most at night.
Curse you, Delgado!

Had something happened to Mercy? Had she cried out for him in the night? Would she forgive him for not being there to help her?

He moved agonizingly slow, anticipating danger, ready for anything to jump out of the shadows. If Mercy was out here, he didn’t want to alert the enemy to his presence or scare the hell out of her, if she was perfectly fine.

Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe. One foot in front of the other.

Garrick moved, his body keeping time with a powerful cadence that opposed the rapid beating of his heart, the surging tidal flood of blood boiling in his veins. He flexed his hands, exercising fingers he’d use to wring the neck of anyone who’d abused his love.

Sink and scuttle me, I love her. I love that maddening, intoxicating Spaniard! And I will kill anyone who harms a hair on her head. I’d do anything — anything — to be able to look into her eyes and tell her exactly how I feel.

He’d lost Esmeralda and the
Priory
. He wouldn’t lose this woman, who’d seen past the ugly beast to the man trapped inside.

Determined more than ever to clarify his feelings for Mercy when he found her — he’d better find her — Garrick stopped when a shape began to materialize on the ground.

“Over here,” Max shouted.

Rigby bolted past Garrick but he didn’t follow. A cloud passed over the moon, eclipsing the shape in darkness, driving him ahead like a moth to flame.

Moisture wicked from his mouth. He struggled to swallow, knowing the immobile figure was most likely dead. But who was it? A man or a woman?

He struggled to stand, his feet weighted by anvils as he put one foot in front of the other.

God, no! It couldn’t be Mercy, could it?

A beam of moonlight penetrated the void. Fountain water trickled over statuesque figures, breaking up the pond’s shimmering surface.

Garrick swallowed thickly and stopped in his tracks, staring at the shape of a man, not a woman. Elation filled him. Until he stepped up to the body then slowly sank to his knees and howled with a fury unlike any he’d ever known.

Damien Randall’s sightless eyes glared back at him, accusing, damning him for not being there to save his life.

Selfishly, Garrick’s heart swelled at the knowledge that Mercy wasn’t Randall. But his first mate’s loss cut more deeply than he’d ever thought possible. His anger rose in one demonic surge, coursing into his limbs like molten iron.

“Max!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Rigby!”

Max appeared within moments, out of breath, as if he’d already taken off at a run when he heard Garrick’s scream of frustrated agony. “Garrick?” He stumbled to his knees. “No. God, no. Not Randall.”

“He didn’t deserve this,” Garrick said between clenched teeth. “No one deserves this.”

Muffled footsteps approached. Garrick reached behind his waist and coiled his fingers around the knife there. He pulled the blade out and turned to throw it.

“Argh.” Moore shuffled out of the shadows, rubbing his neck with his palm. “I’m sorry, Cap’n. They snuck up on me, snake-like.” Garrick turned and Moore caught sight of Randall’s body. “No. No. Not him.”

“Aye,” Garrick said.

“They were Roche’s men, Cap’n.”

Rigby snarled. “Are you sure, Moore? Roche’s men?”

“Any sign of
el Capitán
?” Max paced the area around them, shifting foliage on the surrounding shrubs. Were there more bodies hidden for them to find?

At Rigby’s negative shake, Max broke away. “’Spect they took her brother too. If you want a woman to tell you something she’d sworn never to tell, using her brother as collateral might bend her to your will.”

Mercy was in the enemy’s hands? An enemy prepared to kill at will. Garrick seethed. He fought to control the fiery inferno coiling to life inside him. “Devil damn me for a fool! While we were busy with Fleming, Roche was trying to get his hands on the gold. A brilliant ploy.”

“Do you think that’s where he’s taken her, Cap’n?”

“I do, Moore.” Garrick prayed that was the answer. He honestly had no other ideas.

Rigby scowled. “He’s taking her back to the blasted docks we’ve just come from. What’ll ye have us do?”

“Round up Nelson’s Tea,” Garrick said. “And get the Moroccan.”

“Aye, sir.” Moore wiped his head and looked at his hand, examining the fresh blood there. “We’ll make ’em pay for this sure.”

Garrick dropped his gaze to Randall, the man who’d served him obediently since the first day he’d captained the
Priory
at ten and eight years old. Their lengthy relationship had been built on respect. It had affirmed a lasting friendship.

He moved his hand over Randall’s face, closing the loyal pirate’s eyes. “I’ll see Roche cobbed for this, dear friend. Mark my words.”

Mercy first became
aware of a cold, damp chill saturating her body then blinding pain as she shifted positions. She winced, moaning, as her mind cleared and the realization that she was Roche’s prisoner took form.

Where was she? Where had he taken her? Where was Eddie?

She tried to open her eyes but she was blindfolded, trapped in darkness, a place where Randall’s dead stare continued to plague her.
Dios mio! The poor man died because of me!

Guilt swept over her. Sorrow tightened her chest. She fought back tears, choking on the gag in her mouth as Randall’s cold-blooded murder hit her afresh.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A hammer thumping something into place.

Clank.

Wood clamored to the floor, the sound echoing like it came from within a warehouse.

She wasn’t alone.

Cielo me ayude.
But would heaven help her now?

Mercy wiggled side to side then winced. The flat, planked surface beneath her offered no resistance. Hollow, muted echoes continued. Was she on the floor in a warehouse? Had she been stuffed into a crate?

Her hands had been bound loosely in front of her with a rope that grated against her raw flesh. To her calculations, the distance between her hands gave her about eight inches to play with.
One thing in my favor.
She moved her arms, judging how helpful they would be. One arm wouldn’t obey her commands and the numbness there triggered a paralyzing fear something was wrong with that particular limb.

She inhaled deeply gauging whether or not any ribs had been broken. No problem there.
Excellent.
She wiggled her fingers on her right hand. They moved.
Praise God!
Shifting slightly, she adjusted position.
Impossible.
She’d been laid between two firm stationary objects that dispensed a woodsy, liquor scent.

Rum barrels?

Clonk.

The sound of a tool of some kind hitting the floorboards alerted her someone drifted closer.

No no no!

Footsteps approached. “So you have finally come to, eh,
señorita
?”

Admiral Roche!

Someone tugged her hands and yanked her off the floor, knocking her hip into one of the barrels. The resulting ache weakened her legs and they rebelled as wooden clapboards met her feet. Unable to stand, she immediately sagged to her knees.

More laughter. Hushed voices confirmed there were at least two other men nearby.

“Are you finished or will you give me the pleasure of hearing you plead for your life?”

Silence.

Was that what they waited for? Her surrender? They would be sorely disappointed.

Mercy captured every sound, putting it to memory, paying particular attention to her attackers’ activities. Positions of feet to other objects. Were the voices together or apart?
Is this what Garrick experienced every day of his life?

She took a deep breath, engaging her senses, allowing them to pick up where her eyes couldn’t visually stimulate her brain. If Garrick could do it with one eye, why couldn’t she do it with a blindfold?

“My sister doesn’t deserve to be treated so harshly,
almirante
.”

Eddie!

Shuffling feet scooted nearby. Was he tied up too?

Grunts. The sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh. Were they beating him?
Dios mio
, what were they doing to her brother?

Mercy clawed at her hem as she sat back on her haunches, using this distraction to work her hands beneath her skirts and secure the knife she hid behind her thigh. Her fingers inched up… up…

Heavy booted footsteps thundered toward her.

She froze.

Admiral Roche grunted. “You are her brother, no? Do not expect me to forget that fact.
I
shall decide how to treat this
traidora
.”

“You,” she spat, finally finding her voice. “Are the traitor here.”

Bitter laughter echoed in the Pennington Street warehouse she’d been forced to lead them to.

All too soon, Roche’s wretched breath fanned her face. He lifted her by her shoulders. “That would depend on whose side you are on, eh?”

Roche let go as the beautiful storybook gown Mrs. Lovett had created for her tore in his hands. His booted shove sent her sprawling backward.

Mercy scrambled. This was her chance. She slipped her fists under her skirts and grabbed the knife, slyly slipping it out of its sheath as more arguments erupted around her.

“This is not what we agreed on.”

Mercy froze. Her breath escaped her. What did Eddie mean?

A meaty fist grabbed her left arm. The action revived nerves there, sending prickles of shooting pins and needles into her shoulder. Yanked to her feet, she clamped her lips closed, praying she wouldn’t release a moan that would provide Roche the satisfaction he craved.

“My sister is a
don
’s daughter. I demand you show her the respect her station deserves.”

Skin smacked skin. Boots scraped the floor and a sickening thud erupted into the silence.

Fear shot through every nerve in Mercy’s body. Was Eddie tied like she was, vulnerable to Roche’s abuse? Somehow she had to turn the odds in their favor. No matter who else was in the room, she had to stop Roche from hurting her brother. He was all she had left in this world.

“My brother speaks the truth,” she said, drawing Roche’s attention.

“Be quiet, Mercedes!” Eddie’s grunt followed as if he’d been punched in the breadbasket and his breath taken from him.

“You are a dishonorable man,
almirante
.” The damn broke. She had no intention of keeping her mouth shut. “Did you think you could get away with murder? Blackmail? Lying to the emperor and stealing his money? Where on earth can you go to escape Napoleon’s wrath?”

Smack
.

Mercy’s head spun to the side. Pain enveloped her. She licked her lip, tasting blood as an inner calm washed over her.
My plan is working.
Drive the man to reveal his quick-tempered nature, and her window of opportunity would come.

“Are you that arrogant to believe you can succeed in defying the Prince of the Peace, Napoleon, and King George?”

“Do not compare me with your damned Godoy or an insane king.” He ripped off her blindfold and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his penetrating stare.

Light blinded her until his face took form.

“I.” He grunted. “Am far more capable than either of those men.”

He let go then swung his fist back, hitting her again, knocking her backward. “I know what I want and I don’t need a woman to get it.”

She spat blood onto the floor, praying he hadn’t loosened any of her teeth. God help her, she needed to stall for time.

“
Almirante!
” Eddie’s voice commanded attention.

Her window of opportunity had arrived. With Roche’s attention split, Mercy focused her eyesight, concentrating on her task in the lantern light. She retrieved the knife from her wrist and began severing the rope joining her hands.

“Your interruptions are growing tiresome,
Capitán
.”

“That may be,
almirante
.” Eddie laughed. “But you are only giving her more time to taunt you.”

Oh Eddie, do not provoke him.

The rope frayed free. Silently, Mercy gripped the handle of the knife, covertly hiding the blade in her palm. She grabbed the loose end of the rope and looped it over the knot on her other wrist to make it appear her hands were still bound together.

She stood and looked around the warehouse for the first time seeing things as they really were. Eddie stood next to Roche. A sickening smile illuminated his face.

She staggered back, her legs weakening.

Roche crossed his arms and leaned over to Eddie. “You said I would be pleased with her performance but you failed to mention
how
pleased.”

Mercy blinked. No. Impossible!

Eddie and Roche? Together?
Oh God, it cannot be true.

She lost her balance and tumbled to her knees.

Eddie rushed to her side. “Everything is not always as it seems, Mercedes.”

Confusion ruled her thoughts. She struggled for words. Eddie was the only family she had left. What did his alliance with Roche mean? Had everything she and her parents ever done to protect him been for naught?

She grabbed her heart, gasping for breath, hoping to keep the organ from bolting from her breast. Her ribs protested like splintering wood. Her body refused to comply, stealing her ability to stand.

“Do you not have anything to say to your brother,
señorita
?” Roche strutted before her like a peacock luring a mate. “You have no idea how I’ve longed for this moment.” And yes, he crowed too. “To see you speechless, helpless before me brings me great delight.”

Eddie squeezed her shoulder.

She glanced down at his hand then slowly lifted her gaze to his face. His expression was unreadable. How could she have been so wrong about him? Was he more of a spy than she’d ever been?

Memories plagued her. Hundreds of junctures she and her parents had straddled to ensure Eddie remained pure, untainted by caprice and perversion. Her heart cried out against the irony of it all and in silent agony, she thanked God her parents weren’t alive to witness this moment.

A sound tinkled at the end of the warehouse putting an end to her distress. Were more of Roche’s men at work? How many were there? Had someone discovered their presence? Could she count on being rescued?

Roche snapped his fingers and one of his men moved quickly to investigate, disappearing behind a stack of tightly bound burlap.

“Fleming will never know how well our plan worked.” Roche clapped his hands together. “And sad to say, that means he will never enjoy the spoils of our… how would you put it,
Capitán
?”

“Plunder.” Eddie breathed calmly beside her as if nothing troubled him. “My father particularly prized that term.”

Prized? He’d used the past tense. Did that mean he knew that their parents were dead? Her vision began to blur.

“Our little spy has grown emotional. Could it be that she grieves for you,
Capitán
?”

She turned to Eddie. He gave her no clue to his thoughts. What had happened to him? Had Roche succeeded in turning Eddie against them as Delgado had tried to do to Garrick? It was possible, probable, since Eddie had been gone many months during his naval training.

“Was I wrong believing that pride prevented you from becoming a slave to revolution?” Her heart shattered like glass. “Should I have tried harder to reach you?”

Eddie shoved her to the rum barrels, the rim digging into her arm. “This discussion grows tiresome.”

He let go of her. She collided with the floor, crumpling dejectedly. Or so she wanted Eddie and Roche to believe. Mercy hadn’t been through the horrors she’d experienced and come out a weaker woman. No. She’d emerged a woman with purpose. And if she had to go through her own brother to ensure Roche never murdered, blackmailed, or extorted from another living soul, so be it.

The knife turned easily in her hands like a lover. She lowered her head, taking advantage of the long tresses that had come undone from her gloriously styled hair and sprung to the balls of her feet, maintaining a submissive pose.

“You have what we need — the gold — and I suggest we don’t waste time on indulging amusements.”

Roche examined the opened trunks to ensure they were all empty then spun on his heel to direct the two men at his disposal to load crates onto a cart.

“Is your ship ready?” he asked Eddie.

Surely he did not intend to steal the
Priory
?

“She is. The
Priory
may not look like my ship anymore, but she will suit our purposes just the same.”

No! She couldn’t allow it. They’d taken everything from Garrick. Eddie had stolen her childhood. She wouldn’t allow Garrick to lose his ship again.

Mercy crouched on the balls of her feet like an animal, then rose, clutching the blade, aiming it at Roche’s back. In one fluid movement, the knife sailed toward Roche, but in the time it took for the blade to strike, the admiral moved out of range. The knife sank into Roche’s companion, a man who’d stepped up to help him stack their cargo. The accomplice arched, clawing at his throat, then fell to his knees gurgling before falling forward… dead.

Roche turned, his face reddening with rage. “Kill her!”

She retrieved the knife out of her bodice, screaming at the top of her lungs. Surely someone would hear, grow curious, come inside to help… a dock worker, sailor, anyone.