The Secrets of a Scoundrel (34 page)

All around the sprawling deck, silently, her little army of mutineers were emerging in the predawn twilight, closing in on their hated captors.

Gin felt a welling rush of destiny. The moment of truth was at hand. Could she have done it? Could she have really entered her father’s world of danger and intrigue and held her own?

But when the sailors suddenly started noticing that they were under attack, she brushed aside her musings and took command of the deck.

From stem to stern, the former victims seized control of the vessel, turning the tables on their captors. For their part, the men of the night watch were so taken off guard by this mutiny that they barely put up a fight.

One man started to give a shout, but stopped when a bayonet appeared inches from his eyeball. He shut his mouth abruptly. The sailors seemed to be in shock more than anything. Clearly, they had never believed such brazen action possible from a bunch of terrorized females.

It had all happened with startling speed and ease, smooth as clockwork. Gin’s heart soared at the quiet, steady courage she witnessed in her mutineers.

They marched the sailors down to the brig and locked them in, stoically ignoring their taunts and curses.

Once these prisoners were secure, Gin ordered three of the women to go and make sure the sailors locked in the mess hall were still unable to get out.

Word quickly came back that the door was barred and the men inside still seemed to be asleep. They hadn’t heard a thing. At that point, the only task left was to neutralize the captain.

Gin was looking forward to this. She nodded to a few of the girls to come along in case she needed reinforcements. Their eyes gleamed, fierce and bright, with victory. They, too, were eager to see Rotgut get his comeuppance. Rifle in her grasp, Gin strode toward the captain’s stateroom at the stern.

“Everyone ready?” she breathed, glancing around at her followers.

They nodded, including Susannah Perkins. Indeed, rather than being the helpless victim Gin had expected, the kidnapped girl she had been hired to find continued to display an impressive knack for survival. She had proved to have a cool head so far dealing with danger.

Bracing herself, Gin lifted her hand and rapped soundly on the captain’s door. She waited in anticipation for him to answer.

Wasn’t old Rotgut going to be surprised?

“What do you want?” he yelled gruffly from behind the door.

Gin signaled silence to her troops.

No one answered him.

“Who’s there?” he repeated.

She merely knocked again in answer, three times, slowly.

They heard the creaking of his berth as he arose, then his heavy footsteps tromping across the planks.

“Steady, girls,” she whispered, as the footsteps came closer.

“This had better be good, or I’ll string you up for botherin’ me at this hour!” the captain growled, throwing open the door.

He froze abruptly to find himself looking down the barrel of Gin’s rifle.

“Good morning, Captain,” she said. “Would you kindly come with us?”

“What’s going on? What is the meaning of this?” he shouted.

“Don’t move another muscle!” she warned when he took a backward step, reaching toward the wall, where she figured he probably kept a weapon. “Touch it, and I will blow a hole in your guts.”

He froze, perhaps seeing in her eyes that she was perfectly prepared to pull the trigger on this monster.

“Now, come out of there with your hands up,” she ordered.

He considered this, his hatred of her and all the other females stamped across his ugly face.

She shook her head in warning. “Just give me one excuse, you piece of filth.”

Rotgut must have decided that prudence was the better part of valor. “Where are my men?” he demanded, though he warily obeyed, lifting his hands and stepping out his stateroom into the passageway.

The girls smirked at the sight of the big, ill-kempt drunkard in his nightgown and cap.

“What
is
this?” he cried in bafflement.

“What does it look like? A mutiny, dear Rotgut. Now, move.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the brig, with your men.”

“At least let me put on me trousers!”

“Very well. Anna, bring the lantern. Step into his stateroom first and throw any weapons you find off the stern balcony. Susannah, help her.”

Gin used her rifle to back Rotgut out of the way, so the two girls could pass.

“God, it stinks of old man in here!” Susannah coughed.

“Old drunkard is more like it,” Anna agreed.

The girls quickly found a pair of pistols, a sword, and a knife, and carried all of them to the captain’s balcony off the stern, casting them into the waves.

This done, Gin gestured to Rotgut with her rifle, allowing him to step back into his chamber. He quickly found some trousers and pulled them on.

Feeling generous with victory, Gin even allowed him to shove his fat feet down into his stinking old boots.

“You’re a very evil man,” she informed him.

“Ach, everybody’s got to make a living,” he grunted.

She could not help sneering in disgust, but a proper Order agent probably would have bashed him in the head with the butt of the rifle for that disgusting excuse. “All right, you’re dressed now. To the brig with you. Get up, it’s time to go!”

“Wait!” Susannah interrupted. “Did you see what he just did?”

“What?” Gin halted. Still holding him at gunpoint, she sent her accomplice an uncertain glance from the corner of her eye.

“He swiped his keys off the dresser, there,” she replied. “I’ll bet he’s got a key to the brig. We lock him up, he’s just goin’ to unlock the door and get right back out with the rest of his men. Hand ’em over, you pig!”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about. I don’t have any keys.”

“What you don’t have is any credibility, Captain. Put the keys on the dresser.”

“I don’t know what the bitch is talking about!”

“I know what I saw,” Susannah ground out. “Don’t trust him, m’lady.”

“I don’t,” Gin replied. “Put the keys down, Rotgut.”

Rage came into his eyes. “You can go to hell, you little whore.”

“Shoot him!” Anna cried.

Gin was holding herself back.

“Aye, do it. You don’t have the balls.” The gruff captain gave a coarse laugh. “But you wouldn’t, would ye? Stupid wench.”

Everything in her wanted to pull the trigger to punish this heartless ruffian for all the suffering he had caused.

But she gave him one last chance. “Give me back the keys, then we’re going to the brig.”

“You can go to hell, you redheaded witch. This is my ship.”

Gin tensed, considering her options. “Very well,” she said with a cold smile spreading over her face. “Then, you can walk the plank, instead.”

A
pproaching in the
Santa Lucia,
Nick stood at the rails, pistols loaded, weapons at the ready, his telescope pressed to his eye.

His stomach was in knots as he scanned the frigate with thwarted protective instinct, every fiber of his being full of anxiety over Virginia’s plans for mutiny this night.

He hoped he had not made the biggest mistake of his life in agreeing to this, leaving her behind.
God, please let her be safe.
It was too damned quiet over there.

The sun was slowly peeking over the horizon, but the shadows made it difficult to see, along with the rocking of the waves.

The Italians sailed on, taking him ever closer to the frigate. Nick’s heart pounded with a distress far keener than he ever could have felt about any brother agent’s safety on a mission—let alone his own. She had to be all right.

And then, suddenly, he saw her.

A knot of women came into view on deck. She was at the head of them, a Baker rifle in her hands. Heart pounding, he scanned her in a trice and saw that she looked to be unscathed.

Then his jaw dropped as he realized she had taken Rotgut prisoner.

The hefty ship’s captain was walking a few steps ahead of her, his hands up, fingers linked behind his head.

What is she doing?
Holding his breath, Nick peered through the telescope. For a moment, he watched in avid fascination.

Then he suddenly laughed aloud.

“I don’t believe it. She’s a lunatic.”

“What is it?” Antonio shouted.

“Look!” Nick pointed at the
Black Jest
as she made the vile captain walk the plank.

As Rotgut plunged into the cold, night-dark waves, the women on board cheered, the Italians saw what happened and hooted with hilarity, and Nick, if there was any doubt left, fell utterly in love.

“Oh, my God,” he said softly, shaking his head in disbelief at her sheer, brazen pluck.
She did it.

Here he was, beside himself with the need to save her. Ah, but she was Virgil’s daughter, and she’d jolly well rescue herself, thank you very much.

“Get me over there!” he yelled to the Italians.

“Sì, sì!
” All the Fabrianos were cheering, applauding, whistling. They set off a cannon in salute.

This got the girls’ attention. They ran to the rails and started waving excitedly.

“Hey, Englishman!” Eldest brother Vincenzo cracked his knuckles as Nick climbed the mast. “You want us to go take care of de captain?”

“Be my guest!” he called back in amusement. “No hurry, though. Certainly would be a shame if the bleeder had to tread water for a few hours, don’t you think?”

“Lots of sharks around this time of year,” the second brother chimed in.

His cousin punched him in agreement. “Ha, ha!
Molto bene!
Sì, sì!
”

When the
Santa Lucia
had drifted a little closer to the other ship, Nick grabbed a rope dangling off the yard-arm and leaped off the mast, swinging over the rails and onto the other deck.

Dropping down onto the planks, he caught his balance, his heart soaring, his stare locked on Virginia.

As she turned, the rising sun kissed her cheeks and caught the way her blue eyes lit up at the sight of him, and her beauty nearly stole his breath.

She picked up her skirts and ran to him. Nick caught her up in his arms, twirling her around in a circle, but he did not, could not put her down. He had swept her off her feet, and the feel of her slender body in his embrace was heavenly. “You did it,” he whispered. “You brilliant, mad pirate-lady.”

She laughed and captured his lips. He gave her a lusty kiss, even as he smiled with jubilation. She was safe . . . and he was never letting her out of his sight again.

At last, he let her feet touch down on the planks and just hugged her, hard, for a long time. She held him tightly, burying her face against his neck.

He felt her tremble a little. “I’m so glad that’s over,” she whispered.

“Are we sure it is? Are all the men accounted for? Was anybody hurt?”

“Yes, and no. The crew is locked up in both the mess and the brig, and everyone came out of it unscathed.”

“Excellent news. Well done, darling.” He marveled at her. “Your father would be
so
damned proud of you. I know I am.”

She smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Nick.”

“Ah, that’s nonsense,” he murmured.

“It’s true, I wouldn’t have known what to do. I was blind down there in the dark and nearly too scared to think, but seeing you . . . gave me courage.”

“Well.” He smiled modestly, then shook his head, still wondering how a black-hearted scoundrel like him had ever ended up with this goddess. Here they were in the land of Greek myths, and he could not decide if she was love’s irresistible Aphrodite, wisdom’s warrior woman, Athena, or nurturing Juno, mother of the gods.

Maybe a little of each.

As she caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair, Nick was as good as deaf and blind to everybody else there. She was everything, and his heart so full of devastated longing that he could not even speak.

He just gazed at her, mute and awkward; she kissed him again. He must have looked like he needed it.

When she ended the kiss softly, bit by bit, he opened his mouth to speak—to try to tell her how completely he adored her—but not a sound came out.

She smiled, caressing him. “I know, darling. Me, too.”

“No,” he informed her in a vehement tone. “You don’t. You can’t begin to imagine how much I love you. You can’t. Sorry.”

“Later, then,” she said with a tender smile, “if you can’t tell me, maybe you can show me.”

“Count on it,” he forced out.

She held his gaze in adoration. “Oh, Nick.”

She started to hug him again, slipping her arms around his waist, but he halted her, capturing her chin between his fingers and his thumb; he leaned a little closer, staring sternly into her eyes. “As for you, madam, don’t you
ever
scare me like that again.”

She gave him a cheeky little salute in answer. “Aye-aye, captain.”

He pinched her cheek in playful chiding.

“Come.” She took his hand and started off across the deck, leading him behind her. “I’ve got to go check on my captives.”

“Are you sure there’s no one left that I can kill for you? Please? Can’t I at least beat someone up?”

“There’s always Simon Limarque.”

“Done. The blackguard’s already dead, along with that horrid broken nose chap.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him in surprise. “Nicely done, sir.”

“We got your father’s book, as well. I’m sorry, but we’ve already destroyed it. It’s safer that away for everyone.”

Regret flashed across her face at this news. “Yes. I suppose you’re right . . .” Then she furrowed her brow. “Did you say ‘we’? Who? Did John Carr help you?”

“Er . . .” Nick lifted his eyebrows and froze.
Damn.
“Um, not exactly . . .”

In the next moment, however, she learned the truth.

“Mother! Mother, down here!”

She jolted like she might fall over, her eyes widening.

“Mother, halloo! I’m down here! It’s me!”

“Is . . . is that
my son?”
She whirled out of Nick’s arms and raced to the rails, staring down at the
Santa Lucia
in disbelief. “
Phillip?
”