Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) (34 page)

The mighty stallion charged the boards, and officers of the Marine Police signaled the alarm.  The rogue charted a course toward a schooner, and as the horse dashed up the gangplank, a slew of filthy sailors navigated the ratlines.

“She is going to cast off.”

“Not without us,” Blake replied.

There was something peculiar about the ship, and Trevor took a second look at the canvas and rails.  And then it hit him.  Despite of the fresh paint and new name, she was none other than the
Black Morass
.

And he would wager his first-born that Caroline’s abductor was the captain.  The same man who had vowed to kill every Elliott in existence.  The brother of the lad Trevor’s wife had slain.

A thief.

A rapist.

A murderer.

The most ruthless pirate to sail the seas.

Jean Marc Cavalier.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The sun sat on the western horizon, and the London fog crawled into the docks at Deptford.  At the stern rail, guarded by two filthy pirates, Caroline shrieked in horror as Trevor lunged at Cavalier.  A blast of cannon fire heralded the arrival of the Marine Police, and the shot rippled through the air.  A spray of water blanketed the starboard bow, and the ship trembled beneath her feet.  A naval vessel crept near, and she spied a platoon of lobsters preparing to board the
Black Morass
.

On the main deck, Blake, Lance, and Dirk commandeered weapons from three unfortunate villains.  Her brother charged the companion ladder, and her friends provided flanking support.  Just then, her husband and Cavalier locked blades.  The pirate captain produced a small dagger and thrust the pointed end into Trevor’s forearm.

“Blake, help Trevor,” Caroline screamed.

“I am fine,” her husband responded angrily as he danced a deadly waltz with his enemy.  “Get my wife out of here.”

At that moment, Cavalier shot a glance at her and shouted, “
Kill the wench
!  A king’s treasure to the man that slits her gullet.”

The action came to a grinding halt.

An unnatural quiet settled over the ship as all eyes leveled on Caroline.

The focus of unwanted attention, she retreated until the backs of her knees connected with the stern rail.  Her breath came in a rush of pants, and her heart pounded in her ears.  “Oh, dear.”

Another barrage sounded, and everyone moved at once.  This time, the shot tore through the rigging, showering the combatants in canvas, rope, and splintered wood.  The mizenmast creaked, then toppled toward her.  The towering structure knocked one of her pirate keepers into the Thames, and the other dropped his sword and jumped for safety.  Quick as a flash, she retrieved the discarded weapon and attempted to launch a defense against a rapidly nearing assailant.

“Come now, lovey.”  A toothless blackguard smiled and inched closer.  “You might hurt yourself.”

“Mind your distance.”  With a flick of her wrist, she caught the scoundrel across the cheek when he lunged for her.  “Heed my warning.”

“Bitch.”  The villain sneered as he pressed a hand to his skin.  He licked the blood from his fingers and said, “You’re going to pay for that.”

Her adversary let fly a vicious offensive and, although she tried to protect herself, Caroline’s attire hindered her efforts.  To put it simply, her dress was made for walking, not fighting.  Step by step, she lost precious ground and again found herself pressed to the rail.  With nowhere to go, she clutched the stern lantern and climbed atop the rail.

“Blake, hurry!”  She waved the weapon to repel another attack.  “Else I shall founder.”

“Hold on.”  Her brother dispatched two pirates and gained the quarterdeck.  “I am almost there.”

Dirk and Lance navigated the companion ladder and, with Blake, finished off three additional enemy combatants.  Her adversary turned, formed a line with his remaining allies, and issued a bold challenge to the trio of highly skilled swordsmen.  Blake shared a silent exchange with his brothers in arms, assuming a familiar stance, and she almost felt sorry for her captors.  As the battle ensued, she exhaled her relief and searched for a way down from her precarious perch.  As she bent to reach for the rail, a cannon shot rippled overhead.

And scored a direct hit.

The
Black Morass
shuddered violently.  Caroline teetered, dropped her weapon, and tried to maintain her balance, but her slippered feet tangled in her skirts.  In a hairsbreadth of a second, she wobbled backwards.  A single word passed her lips when she realized what was happening.

“Trevor.”

#

With a burst of energy, Trevor charged his blade, lunged and caught Cavalier in the chest.

The pirate glanced at himself, at the red stain spreading on his white shirt, and then looked Trevor in the eyes.  “Victory is yours,
mon ami
.  Until we meet again.”  The villain sketched a mock salute and leapt into the river.

Trevor turned and searched for his wife.  When he found her, his gut seized.  For the briefest moment, they locked gazes.  Terror functioned as a cruel link, and her fear ensnared his senses.  With both arms extended, Caroline beckoned before disappearing into the fog.

“
No
!”

Denial mixed with rage, igniting every nerve, rousing every muscle.  Like a madman, Trevor cut the throat of a pirate that foolishly got in his way, and then sliced open the gut of another.  Moving, swift and sure, he severed the royal backstay and, with a steely grip on the rope and a running jump, propelled himself atop the quarterdeck.  Discarding his sword, he doffed his coat and dove overboard.

The icy depths of the Thames enveloped his body and left him gasping for air.  Strong undercurrents tugged at his feet, and he fought to tread water.  “Caroline.”

The yellow glow of lanterns played eerily in the fog, but Trevor neither heard nor saw any sign of his wife.  Certain the layers of velvet and lace she wore would act as an anchor, he had to work fast.  She could not--would not--outlast their deadly summons.

“Ahoy, Lockwood, are you there?” Blake called through the darkness from the opposite direction.  “The Marine Police have launched several skiffs.”

“I am here,” he responded.  “Fan out and search for Caroline.”

Trevor continued his efforts in silence, mindful that any noise might muffle sounds of his bride.  Finally, he relaxed and let the river take him, hoping the natural motion would reunite them.  It took all his strength to keep his head above the surface.

A definite slosh caught his ear.

With renewed vigor, Trevor swam toward the slight noise in the aqueous mire.  “Caroline, is that you?”

There was no response, so he treaded water once again.

Despair penetrated his heart as the Thames had penetrated his clothes.  Gloom thick as the fog chilled his mind and soul.

Something brushed his ankle.

He submerged into the frigid river and blindly reached with his hands.  A strange sensation tickled his fingers.  He kicked hard and grasped what he realized was Caroline’s hair.  In his excitement, Trevor forgot where he was, opened his mouth to shout the alarm, and almost drowned them both.  When he regained the surface, he choked and sputtered before summoning assistance.

“I have her.”  He struggled with the weight of his wife’s limp body, then slipped an arm under hers and held her to his side.  “Someone--anyone--help us.”

“Stand fast, Lockwood,” Dirk replied immediately.  “Give me another shout so that I may fix your location.”

“We’re here.”

After what seemed hours, Trevor noted the distinct splash of oars, and a skiff came into view.

“Thank God.”

With utmost care, he gave an unresponsive Caroline into Dirk and Lance’s custody.  As the latter began attempts to resuscitate her, Trevor fell into the tiny boat.  Just as fast, he bent over the side and heaved the foul river water he had ingested.  He was wiping his face when the first feminine cough broke the tense quiet.  Soon, Caroline mirrored his stance as she returned that which would have killed her to the Thames.

He rubbed her shoulders and whispered words of reassurance while Dirk took up the oars.  “Relax, darling.  Don’t fight it.”

“Trevor.”  Shivering, her teeth chattering, his bride turned and buried her face in his chest.  “I thought I would never see you again.”

“Lockwood saved you,” Lance said.  “He went in without hesitation.”

“Bloody ridiculous fool.”  Caroline wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight.  “I want to go home.”

Home.

The word had held no meaning prior to his marriage.  Now, home meant everything to Trevor.  Home was wherever he was with his wife.  However, he was no fool.  Despite his lady’s apparent happiness to see him, much unfinished business remained as a very real chasm between them.  And he was willing to do whatever necessary to get her back.

“Anything for you, love.”  Trevor pressed his lips to her damp hair.  “Anything for you.”

#

With Caroline in his arms, Trevor took the stairs two at a time.  At the landing, he turned left and made for their apartments.  In the hall, he paused and stared at the door to her chambers.  Frowning, he headed for his suite.  As he neared, a footman set the oak panel wide.  He stomped through his receiving room and strode straight to his bedchamber.

“I can walk.  You should see me, I have been doing it for years.”

“I beg your pardon?”  He glanced at his bride, noted her smile, and set her feet on the rug before his four-poster.  “You had a rough day.  I thought to spare you the strain.”

“Trevor, you must not worry.”  She patted his cheek.  “I am fine.”

“You could have drowned.”

“But I did not.”  Caroline tugged on her wet gown.  “Will you help me undress?  I want a hot bath and a fresh night rail.”

“Here, allow me.”  He grabbed fistfuls of the tattered garment, ripped it apart from the bodice, and tried not to ogle her lovely breasts.  A commotion in the hall had him peering over his shoulder.  “What in bloody hell--”

Blake charged into the room with Dirk, Lance, and Damian in tow.  “Lockwood, I want to see my...sister.”

His brother-in-law looked at Trevor, then Caroline.

“You animal.”  Blake clenched and unclenched his hands.  “She just survived a kidnapping and near-drowning.  Can you not give her a measure of uninterrupted rest?”

“Rylan, I have had enough of your meddling in my marriage.”  Before Trevor could utter another word, the interfering duke pounced.

Blake caught him by the throat.  “Was it worth it, Lockwood?”

He gripped Blake’s neck, in turn, ruining the elegantly folded cravat.  “Was what worth it?”

“What happened tonight was your fault.”  Blake shoved him back two steps.  “You put her at risk.”

“This is none of your affair, Rylan.”  Trevor regained his ground.

“The hell it is not.”  The arrogant lord shook him hard.  “Caroline is my sister.”

“And she is my wife.”  Trevor eased the lady in question out of harm’s way and then lunged at her brother.  “You saw to that.”

“Blackguard.”  Blake’s fist connected with Trevor’s jaw and a wicked brawl ensued.

#

As her husband and sibling tumbled on the carpet, Caroline skittered into the dressing room and wiggled out of her ruined gown.  A loud crash reverberated on the walls, and she almost jumped out of her skin.  Quickly, she draped Trevor’s favorite black satin robe over her shoulders and cinched the belt at her waist.  She hurried into the bedchamber before one of the two most important men in her life killed the other.  And if anyone was going to send Trevor to the hereafter, she claimed first rights.

“Do your best,” Trevor bit off between punches.  “As long as I have Caroline, you cannot hurt me.”

His impromptu declaration, although lacking charm and romance, was nonetheless compelling.

Seeking assistance in parting the imbeciles, she motioned for her friends to intercede.  To her dismay, Dirk, Lance, and Damian stood placing wages on the eventual winner.  When the battling boors knocked over a table bearing a brandy decanter and matching glasses, a lone unbroken balloon rolled to her feet.  Caroline picked up the delicate crystal and hurled it at the hearth.  It shattered on impact and the immense crack stopped the fight.

“
Enough
.”

For the second time that night, she confronted an impressive compliment of the male sex.

Mindful of shards, she faced her brother and pointed toward the door.  “Get out.”

Blake’s eyes grew wide.  “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“But--I am defending you.”

“And being pigheaded and ungrateful in the process.”  She folded her arms.  “Out.  All of you.”

“Caroline?”  Her ill-tempered elder sibling set hands on hips.  “Are you choosing him over me?”

“Blake Thornton Deverell Elliott, so help me--”

“Are you sure, sister?”

“
Out
!”

“All right.”  Astonishment evident in his gaze, he raised both palms in implied surrender.  “I am leaving.”

“Perhaps we should bow to the lady’s wishes.  Come, brothers.”  Whistling in monotone, Damian inclined his head.  “Bloody hell, she sounded just like your mother.”

“Oh, shut up.”  With a lethal scowl, Blake ushered Dirk and Lance into the hall.

“She even did that thing with her chin.  It was scary,” Lance said just before the door closed.

Peaceful solitude fell on the earl’s suite.

Caroline had much to say to her husband.  She had so many questions.  Until she had the answers she needed, their future, and the future of their marriage, was hostage to uncertainty.

“Trevor?”

“Aye?”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“What?”

“That as long as you have me, you cannot be hurt?”  Caroline twined her thumbs and tamped her agitation.  “Tell me truly.”

“Yes,” he stated with a pained expression.

She would have danced a jig if there were not so much more to be discussed.  But now she had hope as a shield.

“Then where have you slept the past few nights?”  She held her breath and promised herself she would react with the dignity befitting a countess.