Heather Graham
Authors: Bride of the Wind
Heather Graham writing as Shannon Drake
Prologue
A CANNON EXPLODED.
With the thunder and boom of the shot, a cloud of black powder mushroomed on the air. The shot fell just short of the
Lady May.
Water gushed up in a cascade and crashed back down. The ship weaved and rocked in the clasp of the sea.
Then the cloud of powder slowly dissipated, and there, before them the root of the menace could be seen. It rose high against the crystal-clear sky. Fluttering, rippling, with each soft whisper or harder gust of the wind, it rose there, stark against the blue of sea and horizon, striking terror into every heart.
The skull and crossbones. White upon black. The pirate flag, flying as proudly as the flag of any nation, and bearing down upon them quickly.
Captain Niemens stood by the helm, his glass fixed on the ship that seemed to cut the waves so very smoothly. He quietly gave the order to his first mate to return the fire, and his first mate shouted out the command. But his shot, too, fell short of his target.
He was outgunned, and he knew it. Perhaps the pirate had been firing a warning. Still, it was clear that the pirate meant to have the ship.
Captain Niemens studied the flag, for every set of skull and bones was different—just as the men who sailed beneath them.
A shivering filled his heart.
“May I see?”
He started, taking his eye from the glass, looking down at the woman who stood beside him. Again, a shiver seemed to rip right through his heart. Damn the pirate! The captain didn’t give a fig for himself, he’d fight the fellow to the very end.
But here was the Lady Rose …
To Captain Gaylord Niemens, she was as exquisite as her name. Her eyes were as deeply green as an emerald, her features were more finely sculpted than those of any statue. God had cast her in colors that radiated. Her lips were as red as the flower for which she was named. Her skin was ivory, yet her cheeks were touched with a soft and tempting blush of pink. Against the startling green of her eyes, her lashes seemed like ink while her hair was a rich shade of auburn that caught the sun and reflected shades of gold and copper.
She was tall for her gender, and appeared taller still because she seemed ready to meet any challenge, poised, determined. Surely she had seen the flag. But she was neither shrieking with fear, nor blasting him for what was not his fault, nor sinking down to the deck in a dead faint.
She stood beside him, staring out at the pirate vessel, silent and proud, the green of her eyes enhanced by the deep, rich green of her gown, an extraordinarily fashionable creation with a swirling green skirt, velvet bodice, and silk overshirt. Lace in both black and white trimmed the hem, low, rounded neckline, and sleeves that puffed to her elbows. For all her delicate beauty, she could be exceptionally strong, fierce and fiery, especially in defense of anyone who had been wronged. Her temper could fly quick, but she was fair and intelligent, and unwaveringly kind to those who served her. Captain Niemens knew this because he served her. She had taken over the shipping business from his past master, and Niemens had come to love her. To him, she was beautiful, within and without.
“My dear Lady Rose—” he began.
“Do you know the flag?” she interrupted him, staring determinedly into his eyes.
He nodded. “I think. Yet I might well be wrong. He has not been known to attack English ships, and our colors are flying high and clear.”
“The Dragonslayer?” Her cheeks paled just slightly. She gave no other sign of emotion.
Rose felt the first quiverings of terror plunge deep into her. The Dragonslayer. In the past months he had become infamous. No Spaniards or Dutchmen were safe upon the seas. And though the royal word was death to all pirates, it was said that King Charles II relished each and every victory of this high-seas fiend who liked to rob from the Spanish and make himself rich. All manner of noblemen—and women—had been snatched from Spanish vessels. High ransoms had been demanded for their return.
And, of course, the rumors of what else went on once a ship was seized and the hostages taken were absolutely chilling. The Dragonslayer. The very terror of the seas. And he was almost upon them.
“From all I’ve heard of his flag,” Captain Niemens said. He turned to her. “I’ll see you to my cabin, milady—”
“No. I’ve no wish to be locked up like a caged bird. It will make no difference if the action goes badly. I’ll see what happens from here!” she protested.
“Milady, no!” he said urgently. “Please, listen to me. Here you could be killed by a falling sail, by an accident of fire from my own men, by—”
“And waiting in the cabin,” she said shrewdly, green eyes sizzling, “I will just be skewered by this peg-legged knave!”
Niemens didn’t think that he had time to give her a lecture on pirates. Everyone knew about the robbers of the seas, of course, but so much about them was rumor.
And very much was true. For a moment he thought that his greatest charity to the girl might be to run her through with his own sword now, quickly, mercifully. But then again, if this was the Dragonslayer, then Rose would certainly live. The Dragonslayer had yet to take the life of a captive. As to how she would live …
He didn’t dare dwell on such matters. Rose’s father was one of the wealthiest men in the colonies. The Dragonslayer must know it, and thus he was attacking this ship. An English ship.
“Captain Niemens,” Rose said softly. “I desire a sword—”
“Fire again!” Niemens gave the command to his first mate, a lean fellow with a graveyard face. He caught hold of Rose’s arm and urged her from the gated helm down the three steps to the main deck, and then around and down another set of steps to his cabin, a large, pleasant place directly beneath the helm; He thrust Rose inside, and she spun around, staring at him.
“Captain! I cannot stay here, helpless like this!”
“Please, milady, I implore you. On your honor! Remain here!” he begged her.
Damn him! Rose thought swiftly. He didn’t try to lock her in, he just stared at her with huge brown eyes, like one of the king’s spaniels, and trusted in her honor! He didn’t understand. If they were taken, she couldn’t be seized or murdered without some fight! Captain Niemens would valiantly die for her—but not give her the opportunity to defend herself!
For a bleak moment she remembered that there had been a time when she had been ready to die. The pain within her had been so vast that she would have embraced any angel of death. But that had been before she had discovered just how much she had to live for. And that she had to survive now.
“Captain!”
He closed the door, and she heard his footsteps, hurrying away.
There was another explosion. The ship veered and careened. The second shot had come so very near!
Rose staggered, gained her balance while grasping on to Niemens’ desk, and made her way to the brocade-covered seat. She gasped, seeing how quickly the pirate ship was bearing down on them. She could make out the flag now herself. The ship carried a figurehead, too, a woman’s upper body with nearly bared breasts and long tendrils of hair curling over and over the exposed flesh. The figurehead was beautiful, and such a contrast to the hideous grimace of the skull on the flag!
She grit down hard on her teeth, trying to assess the pirate ship. On both starboard and port, she was well armed. Rose counted at least ten cannons on each side. Her heart began to sink. She heard feet scampering above deck. An order was called out. “Fire!” The
Lady May
seemed to inhale and tremble as a shot was sent out in return. Rose watched anxiously. The shot fell short of the pirate ship bearing down on them. The reverberations were close now, so close that her own ship began to heave and toss. “I cannot stay here!” Rose told herself. But dared she fight? She had to return home, she had to …
A cry escaped her. It suddenly seemed as if the figurehead from the pirate ship was just about to plunge through the captain’s cabin windows! But even as she flew up, determined to be away from the danger, the ship slipped around, ramming into their side. The whole of the vessel seemed to groan and shudder with such ferocity that Rose found herself pitched forward into the desk, then thrown completely to her left where she fell upon the handsome bunk with carved wood head and footboards nestled compactly between shelving.
Clattering and screeching sounds came to her ears as she scrambled to stand. She realized that her ship had been set upon with grappling hooks, and that the pirates were now streaming aboard. She managed to pull herself to her knees despite the tangle of her clothing, but a whimsical gust of wind sent the pirate ship careening against the
Lady May
hard once again and she went flying backward in a mushroom of petticoats, cotton, velvet, eyelet, and silk.
On the deck there were wild cries and the clash of metal. There would be a fight, a horrible fight, and dead men would lay strewn about the ship. And she had to pray that Captain Niemens would be the victor. Yet even as she did so, she thought of the dear dignified captain, a good friend and a fine sailor, but no match for a vicious pirate. She shivered, thinking of his fate.
Yet just as suddenly as the noise had begun, it stopped. There was no long, drawn-out battle.
The world seemed to be silent.
She went still on the bunk, caught upon her knees once again, listening.
And then the door to the captain’s cabin burst open.
She gasped, sagging back, for just as she had feared, it seemed that Captain Niemens had not been the victor.
No …
The victor stood before her.
The Dragonslayer.
As he was caught in the shadows, with only the faintest glimmer of light coming from behind him, she could see little of him. Tall and dark, he filled the doorway, one hand upon his hip, the other brandishing a sword. His loose-sleeved, open-necked shirt was black as ebony, as were his form-hugging breeches and the boots that rose above his knees. He had, at least, condescended to wear a hat, a tall-crowned and wide-brimmed creation with a single, huge white feather. His features were shrouded, but Rose could see that he wore a black patch over his left eye.
He stood there like an executioner.
The thought sent rivers of icy fear cascading along her spine. She wouldn’t be terrified! she promised herself. She would survive this, she would fight it. She wanted to live. She had to return home.
He stared at her long and hard from the doorway. What went on in his mind, she could not begin to tell, for with the light far behind him, he remained nothing but a tall, lithe, muscled menace. The silence deepened. A breeze picked up, suddenly ruffling the feather in his hat and his dark hair.
She tried to untangle her legs from the pile of clothing around her, jerking upon the fabric and at last managing to come to her feet. As she did, she noticed that there was a glittering, razor-sharp letter opener upon the captain’s desk.
She made a desperate lunge for it without thinking that the small blade would not be much of a weapon against the pirate’s long and shimmering sword. She simply had to have some defense.
She reached it, clutching it tightly in her hands. But at that moment, the pirate made his move, striding into the cabin.
The door slammed shut behind him.
“I’ll kill you!” she promised. “I demand that you leave me be this instant. You’ll receive an exceptional ransom for me if you—”