The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) (6 page)

Sweat beaded on her brow as the temperature in the cabin grew oppressively hot. The screened bulkhead tapered inward.

Terror prickled Mercy’s spine. She wasn’t afraid for her own life, necessarily. The man would have already attacked her if that was his intention. His presence heralded something more shocking. In all her days as a spy, she’d learned to expect the unexpected. She’d dealt with men conceivably more dangerous than the demon standing before her. The horror? If this pirate was standing before her now, where was Eddie?

Her gaze trailed the lines of the brigand’s handsome chiseled face to his closely cropped beard and the furry patch of hair just above his top lip. His full lips twitched slightly at the corners as if he enjoyed her slow perusal, making his mustache come to life.

Her blood heated. What was the man waiting for? Had Lord Seaton returned to kill her because she hadn’t met him that treacherous day long ago? Did he blame her? Expect her to recognize him, to flush, faint consumed with the vapors?
She
was a Vasquez. A Vasquez didn’t land conveniently sprawled at any man’s feet, especially not her. Mercy wasn’t a mindless female, vulnerable to nightmares and nervous tremors.

She hesitated, her finger poised on the trigger of the gun. Spy or no spy, she would shoot if needed. She couldn’t die… not yet. England had too much to lose.

A distinctive humorous spark flashed in Seaton’s stare. His intriguing mouth turned down at the corners overpowering her senses, making her foolishly wonder what else his mouth could do to a woman.

He took a step forward. “Before this gets out of control, allow me to introduce myself.”

“No.” She shook the gun in her hand, guilt weighting her chest.

He stepped back and flattened his palms in the air.

Smart of him.
If he’d returned to get his ship, Eddie had been stripped of command. She wouldn’t back down until she discovered what this man — his men — had done with her brother and what they planned to do to her.

She shook the gun again, pressuring him to step back all the way across the screen door’s threshold.

Dios mio, his head is higher than the doorway. The man is a sight to behold with that wickedly sinful eye patch strapped across his face.

She shook off her wayward thoughts as they faced each other for agonizing moments — seconds really.

“
Quién es usted
?” She waved the gun threateningly, proud at last to have found her voice.

“Who. Am. I?” His speech was decidedly slow, making sure she understood him as he spoke. “I am someone who doesn’t like having a gun pointed at his face.”

At his use of the word “face”, Mercy’s meticulous gaze returned to the eye patch that concealed the origins of scars threading outward to his forehead and cheekbone.
Dios mio, what had Delgado done to him?

Even with the disfigurement, he was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
This
man wasn’t merely mortal. His mannerisms cried out,
I am a nobleman
. His tortured gaze assured her, he’d seen cruelty unlike any she could imagine. The way he carried himself indicated he struggled with a weighty burden. Many men associated with torture displayed violent natures. Was Seaton duly affected? Was he here for revenge?

Despondent that she’d taken part in Seaton’s fate, she gripped her weapon more tightly in front of her. “Who are you?”

“Captain Blade.”

She couldn’t stop the gasp escaping her mouth. Her fears took flight.

“You have heard of me.”

“
Sí
.” Her heart nearly shot out of her chest. Having him authenticate his identity was worse than she imagined. Did the fact that he described himself as a pirate rather than a lord hint at why he was standing before her? “
Capitán
Blade.”

He swept a slow, guarded bow. “At your service.”

The pirate had come back to get his ship. A bold move. But why risk it? Seaton had vowed never to return to Spain after what
El Capitán
Delgado had done to him, and there was a steep price on Seaton’s head. Worse? Admiral Roche had promised her father that if Seaton was ever seen in San Sebastian again, he was to be shot on the spot — no questions asked.

He had nothing to fear from her. She’d never supported Admiral Roche or
Don
Esteban’s propensities for murder.

He held up his hands then stepped farther into the room, closing the door.

“What are you doing?”

He gestured with his right hand toward a chair. “
Con su permiso
?”

“
Sí.
” She nodded absentmindedly, slowly stepping away from the desk, keenly observing his face for signs he intended to hurt her.

Her heartbeat raced into a canter. She blinked — twice. “
Por qué estás aqui
?”

His face grew taut. “Come now,
señorita
.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his long black boots out before him. “The question should be… why do
you
think I am here?”

Incredulously, she said, “
¡No puede ser!
”

His laughter struck a nerve. Pain seized her heart. “What do you find so amusing, eh?”

“So you do know who I am.”

“
Claro que sí
. You are a wanted man,
señor
.”

“Wanted?” His stare softened strangely. His lips pinched tightly together.

She forced herself not to ponder the emotions flashing across his face: surprise, hope, then pain. “For the murder of
Capitán
Delgado,” she continued. “Though it is highly unlikely you were capable of such a thing at the time.”

His body grew taut as a bowstring. “Never underestimate a man like me.”

“You cannot be as cruel and despicable as Delgado,
señor
.”

He stared at her for an indistinguishable amount of time. “Wise as you are beautiful, eh?”

Beautiful?
Her hand began to shake.
Stupid pride.
She eased her finger off the trigger. She’d meant only to scare him. Firing the gun on a ship loaded with ammunition was ill-advised.

“And might I add — dangerous. Put the gun down. You won’t need it.”

She raised her chin in challenge then lowered the gun. “How can I trust you are not here to administer revenge?” God only knew whether or not he blamed her for being captured by Delgado.

“You cannot.”

Straight to the point. Honest. She admired that about him. “What have you done with
Capitán
Vasquez?”

“Your
brother
has been dealt with,
Señorita
Vasquez.”

She gasped. He did know who she was. “How do you know my name? That
Capitán
Vasquez is my brother? And what exactly does ‘he has been dealt with’ mean?” She raised her weapon again. “Or do I have to shoot out your other eye to discover the truth?”

He immediately rose, looming above her like a leaning tower. She took a step back.
Dios Mio, he is devilishly handsome.

She shook the pistol. Had Seaton dispatched her brother in some form or another, preventing him from returning to her? Had Eddie been injured defending his ship? Her brother’s stubborn nature could very well have caused a murderous altercation.

Rage — and a dash of fear — flowed through her veins now. “I demand you tell me what you’ve done with my brother.”

Ignoring her, he moved cautiously, hands held high, to a small bookshelf positioned in the bulkhead, secured with latticed glass. “I’m disappointed.”

Seaton stood with his right side away from her, which seemed ridiculous because he couldn’t see what she was doing by providing her his blind side. But neither could she see what he intended to do with his right side concealed. Was this a test?

He turned to face her, his expression set in stone. No hint of sympathy existed. “One must listen carefully to what one is told.”

Her hand began to shake as she continued to aim the pistol at him. “I will not be talked down to like a child.”

He reached for the knob on the glass-lined case set into the bulkhead, moving strangely slow. He grabbed a decanter and poured himself a liberal amount of brandy as if everything in Eddie’s cabin belonged to him. Which, of course, it did.
La Mota
… the
Priory
, had been
his
ship. And now it was his again.

“Very well.” He turned his back. “If you must know,
Capitán
Vasquez will not be returning anytime soon.”

“Returning? I do not understand.”

He spun back around to face her. His rapier glance stole her breath. “Do
you
know why I am here?”

She knew many things, but this man’s presence aboard
La Mota
forced her to face one of her deepest fears. Had Seaton returned to make her pay for not meeting him that dreadful day he was captured?

He raised the tumbler to his lips, and then tilted his head back, downing the amber liquid in one swallow.

Something inside her snapped. “Are you here to exact revenge?” She quickly positioned herself behind Eddie’s desk, using it as a barrier between them. “If so, stay back.”

He moved toward her.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as Seaton charged the desk, easily vaulting it to land beside her.

“We’ve gotten off to a dreadful start. If you’ll allow me to explain—”

She aimed the gun at his mid-section.

He had the pistol out of her hand before she could blink then carefully set it aside. “You have nothing to fear from me,
Señorita
Vasquez.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. How do you know my name?” She hated their reversal of roles. Normally,
she
did the interrogating.

“In future, I advise you to remember it’s unwise to fire a gun on board a fully-loaded ship.”

Mercy backtracked around the desk and bolted across the cabin. “I will do what I please,” she screamed, opening the glass cabinet and grabbing the first thing she could, a container of liquor. She threw the bottle, hitting him square across the shoulder. The glass shattered, spraying him with brandy.

His howl sent a shudder of fear hurtling through her veins. “More fuel for the fire, eh?”

Backed against the door, she lifted her skirt slowly.

“What are you doing?” He froze.

His reaction was exactly what she’d hoped for. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she reached for a knife sheathed around her thigh, flipped the leather holster and brandished the blade before her.

“I will kill you if you come any closer.”

“You little hoyden. There is a better way to come to terms than this.” He leaped forward.

“Whose terms?” She threw the knife.

The blade sliced through his upper arm on its way to the bulkhead behind him. He straightened and answered her. “Mine.”

She picked the water pitcher off the sideboard and heaved it toward him in order to dance around the desk.

He ably caught it, but the distraction was enough to allow her time to climb over the chair, reach into her boot and snatch another hidden blade. Hearing him approach, she spun quickly, meeting Seaton toe-to-toe, slashing his sleeve.

Mercy moved to swipe his leg out from under him on his left side, but he caught her hand, lifted her arm, and squeezed her fingers until they turned blue. “I am not here to hurt you.”

“Liar!” Her treacherous digits sprang loose. The knife plunked to the floor.

“I wouldn’t lie about this, little heathen. I won’t fight you. I’m here to help you. You must believe me. I mean you no harm.”

She wrenched her hand free then backed toward the stern window, grabbing one of the lanterns hanging on an iron peg. If she could just slow him down, she could climb out of the window and jump into the bay and swim to Santa Clara Island before it was too late, even if she had to manage the currents to do so. She was a brilliant swimmer.

“What do you plan to do with me? Flog me? Use me, pass me on to your crew then kill me?” She raised the lantern to strike. “I will die before I allow you or anyone else to touch me.”

“Devil damn me.” He growled, the baritone rumbling deep in his chest like a wounded animal. “Simon sent me to help you.”

“Simon?” She stopped cold. “How? By trapping me like an animal,
señor
?”

“No. This.” His reflexes were surprisingly fast for someone with impaired vision. He grabbed her arm, stripping the lamp from her hand then stared into her eyes for agonizing seconds before setting the lantern safely aside. “I’m a captain trying to save his ship from a wench trying to burn it down.”