A Daughter's Destiny (15 page)

She tried to make herself small as the men raced past her, intent on tasks which were as mysterious as a magician's tricks. Staring up at the sky, she watched as the fog was left ashore. Overhead the moon glowed. When a shadow crossed over her, she lowered her gaze to see a strange man's smile.

“Well, well, so the cap'n did get ye!” He chuckled as he squatted in front of her. “What ye be goin' to France fer, dearie? Want yerself some of that Frenchie lovin'?”

She pulled her feet closer to her. She did not want to let even her hem touch this disgusting man. Not answering, she waited for him to leave.

“Cain't talk, dearie?” When she did not answer, his dirty hand patted her cheek. She turned away. He pinched her face between his fingers as he forced her to look at him. “Don't worry, dearie. We be takin' good care of ye. Ye'll enjoy yerself, mark me words.”

Although fear flashed through her, she did not reply. The sailor was called away by a gusty shout, and she sagged against the crates. Again her innocence of the world beyond L'Enfant de la Patrie had betrayed her into trouble. She should have stayed ashore instead of running off without thinking.

As she huddled against the crates, time passed slowly. Her head drooped, but she stayed awake. When the water became choppy, she fought nausea. If the voyage lasted much longer, she would be sick. Closing her eyes, she swayed with the ship, hoping it would relieve the stress in her center.

A shout came from across the deck.

Brienne woke, shocked that she could have fallen asleep. Jumping to her feet, she tried to run to where Marksen was standing over a man struggling to stand. Even in the moonlight, she recognized the man who fell back to the deck.

She lurched to where Evan was fighting to sit. She understood why when she saw his arms were bound. Kneeling beside him, she gasped, “Evan! What are you doing here?”

“M'question exactly.” Marksen motioned to his men.

Two of them grasped Evan's arms, hauling him to his feet. Brienne stood as they herded him to the cabin at the stern. Fearing what they might do, she tried to follow. Marksen grabbed her arm. When she struggled to pull away, he laughed and shoved her ahead of him into the cabin. She tripped over Evan's legs and moaned as she landed on her knees.

Evan snarled an oath before saying, “There is no need to abuse her, Marksen.”

The smuggler rested his shoulder against the door frame. In the flickering light of a lantern, his sunken cheeks became a death mask. “Ye need to be worryin' 'bout yerself. Ye know what I do with stowaways, Somerset.”

“I am not a stowaway. Miss LeClerc is paying my way.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

“Didn't you tell the good captain, honey, about the plans we made at the inn?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes narrowed with fury. A line of blood dropped from the left corner of his mouth, and red marks on his face would become bruises to match hers.

Quietly, Brienne said, “I must have forgotten to mention that, Captain.”

“When? When ye be climbin' out on the roof to escape Somerset? Or when ye snuck through the marsh down to the ship?”

“It must have slipped my mind,” she answered with an innocence that no one would believe.

“Slipped yer mind?” Marksen laughed. “She be nearly as dumb as ye be, Somerset, if'n ye be thinkin' I believe such a tale.”

“I am stupid,” Evan answered evenly. “Damn stupid, for I believed you, Marksen, when you agreed not to take her to France.”

“Nay, I agreed only to give 'er back to ye. She be comin' of 'er own free will with me.” His eyes raked along her, and she edged closer to Evan. “Ye got yerself a looker this time, Somerset. Don't know when I've seen a better set of legs danglin' in front of me eyes.”

She shrieked when he tugged her to her feet and to him. She fought, but he was too strong. Hearing Evan's curses, she moaned again when Marksen fondled her. She repeated Evan's oath as she plucked a pistol from Marksen's belt and pressed it to his chest.

Marksen swore as Evan laughed. Stepping back, Brienne stared at the smuggler.

“Let Evan go!” she ordered.

“Ye won't be shootin' me, darlin'. M'boys will see ye and Somerset dead if'n ye do.”

“Mayhap, but you shall be dead by then, so you will not be able to enjoy seeing us die.” She held the long pistol with both hands, keeping her finger on the hammer. “Untie him.”

Marksen pulled a blade from under his shirt. She drew in her breath as he raised it.

Brienne screamed when she was struck behind the knees. She collapsed to the deck. Evan pressed her to the uneven boards. The cabin door crashed closed as the knife clattered, left behind as Marksen raced out.

“Evan Somerset,” she cried, “what—?”

“Don't move!”

Something struck the side of the ship. The window burst with the force of the impact. Glass sprayed over them.

“What was that?” she cried, realizing Evan had been trying to protect her.

“Cannonball!” He raised his head enough to smile at her. “Welcome to the world of smugglers, honey.”

“Cannon? It could sink us!”

“That is the idea.”

She struggled beneath him. “We have to get out of here!” Grabbing the knife, she cut the ropes on his wrists. “We have to—”

“What? There is no place to go. If Marksen does not repel this attack, we shall be killed trying to swim to shore.”

She moaned and hid her eyes against his coat as she heard a second dull thud in the distance. The ship shivered with the impact.

Evan leaped to his feet. “Get between those crates, Brienne. Go!”

“What are you going to do?”

“Find us a way to get out of this alive, if I can. Get down between those crates.” Taking the pistol from her, he opened the door, and she heard Marksen shouting orders. The ship bucked as its cannon returned fire.

She knew Marksen would never surrender to the authorities. To do so meant jail or worse for the crew. Marksen had a reputation as a wily smuggler. He would not allow his ship to be taken or sunk.

Evan was back before Brienne had a chance to slip between the heavy boxes. “Dammit, you have done it this time, honey.”

“Me?”

“Word on deck is the ship firing on us is after you. Marksen will do anything to save his ship. This attack may make him forget why he brought you aboard.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked about Marksen's help, but never bothered to investigate rumors about certain women who approached Marksen and were never heard of again.”

“Never?” She blanched.

“Brienne, why do you think I risked Marksen's fury by going to his meeting place? Why do you think I stowed away on this ship?” He pulled her against him as the ship was struck again. “If I had not, Marksen would have reneged on his offer to take you to France until you paid a much higher price.”

“Why didn't you tell me when we were at the inn?”

With a wry smile, he said, “I thought you had seen enough of Marksen to realize the truth.”

The ship's cannon fired, knocking them against the wall.

“Let's go,” Evan ordered.

“Where?” She rubbed her sore elbow.

His answer was drowned out by an ear-wrenching explosion as another cannonball was fired from Marksen's ship. As the sound faded into silence, he said, “Your friend Marksen—”

“Not my friend!”

“In order to save his ship, Marksen will hand us over to whoever has been shooting at us. Of course, the captain of the other ship may be trying to protect you from your own idiocy by keeping you from going to France.”

“I thought protecting me was your job!”

He grinned. “How romantic.” He kissed her, then nibbled on her earlobe.

“Evan Somerset, you are a fool!” she gasped. “We need to get off this ship.”

“You are right, Brienne. I am a fool. I was foolish to believe that you would not run off to France and to think I could stop you without any trouble.” His smile faded as he took her hand to draw her closer again. “But I was most foolish when I thought I could keep this purely professional.” His lips brushed hers with swift fire.

She tasted desperation in his kiss and feared he was telling her goodbye. “Is it that dangerous?”

“Yes.”

His simple response terrified her. She picked up her bag and held it against her chest.

“Stay close,” he ordered.

She nodded. “What are we going to do?”

“Don't ask. We shall have to improvise as we go. Come on! Before Marksen notices we are gone.”

When he pulled her out of the cabin, she stayed close to him. He motioned for her to remain in the cabin's shadow as he inched forward. She tried to slow her breathing that sounded as loud as a tempest while he skulked up behind the unsuspecting sailor. Another quick downswing left the man in a senseless mound on the deck.

As he pulled the man's gun from his belt, he tossed it to her. “Do you really know how to fire it?”

“Yes.”

“And reload?”

“I think so.”

“That will have to be good enough.” Taking her arm, he drew her toward the stern.

She pulled her gaze from the men who were waving to another ship that was coming alongside. She glanced over her shoulder and groaned when she saw Evan tearing the canvas off a small boat. In it, they would be an easy target for the gunners of both ships. She wondered if they could reach the shore in a rowboat because she had no idea how far they were from either England or France.

When her feet slipped on the deck, she glanced down. Her stomach roiled. The dark liquid staining her shoes was blood.

“Are you all right?” Evan asked, drawing her behind the small boat.

“I hope I will be.”

“You will be. Trust me.”

“I hope I can.”

A strange expression crossed his face, but he held out his clasped hands and told her to step onto them. As she gripped the railing, he hefted her into the boat.

She struck a seat and moaned when her breath exploded out of her. With her hand against her ribs, she sat. “Evan, hurry!”

“Be quiet!” She heard a soft clanking, then he ordered, “Hold on tight, honey.”

Brienne fell back against the side of the boat as it began to drop past the side of the ship. No! He could not be saving her by sacrificing his life! She would not let him do that. She tried to stand, but hit the bottom of the boat again as it struck the waves.

Water sprayed her. Wiping wet hair out of her eyes, she looked up and smiled. Like a squirrel racing along a tree, Evan was scrambling nimbly down a rope dropped over the side.

“Push the boat over here!” he ordered in a whisper.

She groped through the dark for the oars. She found only one. When Evan called to her more urgently, she put one oar against Marksen's ship and shoved. The boat drifted farther away.

She heard a curse, then a splash. A hand reached over the side of the boat, which tilted wildly, and she clutched the opposite oarlock.

When Evan heaved himself into the boat, she exclaimed, “Thank God, you are safe. I thought—”

“Honey, we are far from safe.”

As if in echo of his words, shouts came from above as Marksen's crew discovered they had escaped. Evan found the other oar and began to press them into the waves. A gun fired, hitting the water just beyond the boat.

“Brienne, your gun!” he shouted.

She raised it. Although her fingers shook, she pulled the trigger. The explosion seemed as loud as cannon fire. She rocked back off the seat and heard a sound from Evan that was suspiciously close to laughter. As she climbed onto the narrow plank, she glared at Evan.

She shrieked as a cannonball sailed over their heads. It sprayed the boat as it struck the waves. When another cannon fired, she ducked with her hands over her head. Only when she heard a crash behind them did she realize that the other ship was firing on Marksen's.

Across the waves, a voice echoed eerily. “Give her to us, Marksen, and we will let you and your men go.”

Evan cursed as he pressed the oars to take them farther from the ships. “Get the damned gun reloaded, Brienne.”

She bent her head over the barrel as she tried to keep the gunpowder from spilling. The dark grit cascaded over her fingers.

“Take mine!” He paused in rowing to shove the gun into her hands. “Be prepared to fire it while you are reloading yours. Hurry, Brienne!”

“I am doing the best I can.”

“Then, do better.” As she bent to her task again, he added more quietly, “I am sorry, honey. Just hurry.”

Blinking back tears which made her task even more difficult, she gulped, “It is all right.”

Brienne concentrated on readying the pistol as he stroked the oars against the water. Finishing, she put the gun on her lap. She looked up in horror as she heard the disembodied voice repeat its demand to turn Brienne LeClerc over. They were so close to the ships. One well-aimed shot by the cannon would sink them.

She watched Evan's muscles strain against the oars as he panted in their rhythm. Moving carefully in the unsteady boat to sit next to him, she put her hands over his on the right oar.

“Let me help,” she whispered.

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

He did not waste energy thanking her. “Watch me and work at the same pace. We do not want to end up going around in circles.”

She nodded as they rowed in silence while the captains of the two ships shouted to each other. She learned to dip only the very end of the heavy oar into the water. Up and down the waves they went as she stared at the two ships.

She was shocked when she realized they were not headed for the shore but around the stern of Marksen's ship. She understood why when the small boat slipped into the shadows beyond the ship. Now they were hidden from the pursuing vessel as well as the crew on Marksen's. Only the soft splash from the oars could betray them.