Heather Graham (28 page)

“There’s just one thing, DeForte,” Sean began, his dark brown eyes steady on him. “In England you’re dead. And if you’re not dead, you’re supposed to be dead, and some fellow aboard that ship, even though it be your own, might well want you that way!”

Pierce hesitated. “I know my captains, but not all the men. With luck, I’ll not be recognized except by Captain Becker, and he’ll be aware of my need for secrecy. First, we’ve got to best these Spaniards! We have to survive tonight to worry about tomorrow, right?”

“There’s a movement!” Jay warned.

There was a clatter of footsteps as men came down the steps leading to the hold. “Ortega!” someone called. Pierce nodded to the others. He slipped out into the darkening hallway.

The sailor seeking Ortega wasn’t expecting trouble. Pierce cracked him hard on the head with the butt of the pistol he had taken. He was a big man, but he slumped down instantly. Pierce dragged him to the hold. He motioned with the pistol for Sean to follow him.

They crept just above deck. Night was falling, so the shadows were with them. Men were rushing around to arrange another volley of shot from the four cannons facing the English ship on the horizon.

Things went remarkably easy at first. Pierce slipped behind one man, and tossed him overboard. Sean took down a second, and together they dragged him down the steps and to the hold. Jay and Josh crept behind them on the next run. A man for a man. They repeated the process slowly, surely, until they had managed to send at least eight of the butchers overboard and imprison another ten below.

The battle with the
Princess of Essex
was heating up. Shots were hitting near the Spanish ship.

Roderigo was on deck himself, walking up and down, jutting his sword into the air, swearing at the incompetence of his men.

Sean had come up behind one of the cannoneers when Roderigo swung in his pacing. He saw Sean and stopped dead still, his eyes narrowing.

“
Madre de Díos!
You insolent dog! You’ll die here and now before another cannon roars!” he swore.

But Pierce had seen Roderigo. He leapt forward, blocking the way between him and Sean. “You’ll take me on, Roderigo! Me. A man. You’ll not fight a boy young enough to be your son.”

Roderigo lifted a brow. “I’ll kill the boy with no remorse. He is English, yes? But I’ll see you die first, if that is your wish. As you please, English!” he cried.

Pierce leaped forward, feeling the deck with his bare feet. He circled Roderigo warily, watching for the man’s first thrust and parry. It was swift, well aimed, and strong, just as he had suspected.

But he thrust back with the same force, amazed that after so long, much of what he knew was coming back so easily. He attacked aggressively, driving Roderigo against the captain’s cabin, and nearly skewering him there.

But Roderigo seemed unafraid of death, and he parried quickly. Pierce leapt upon the steps to the helm, followed hard by Roderigo. He skirted around the mast, and slashed through the canvas. He jumped high to avoid Roderigo’s wild swipe at his feet, hearing the swooshing of the sword as it barely missed his flesh.

Roderigo came for him again.

From the corner of his eye he saw that the two ships had come hard together. The Spaniards were crying out, throwing grappling hooks over the
Princess,
but doing so slowly, awkwardly, at a loss with their captain so viciously engaged in his private war.

“Take her!” Roderigo screamed in his native tongue. “Take the English vessel!”

But Sean leapt quickly to the rim of the portside deck, calling out a warning to the Englishmen aboard. “My friend has near slain her captain! Take the Spaniards, my good men, take these wretched bastards!”

Roderigo swore viciously. He made a wild lunge at Pierce.

It was the opening he had needed. He lifted his blade. Roderigo impaled himself upon it.

The battle did not take long then. Half of the Spaniards were already locked in the hold, some had found graves in the briny deep, and the captain and crew of the
Princess
were quick to give their full support to the fight.

When he saw that it was over, Pierce quickly retired to Roderigo’s fine captain’s cabin. Sean followed him.

“They’ve none of them gotten a good look at me,” he said. He rubbed the dark stubble of his chin. “And if they did, I don’t know what they’d see. Find Judson Becker for me. Send him to me.”

“Aye, milord!” Sean agreed.

Moments later, Becker was standing before Pierce. He cried out gladly, embracing him. “By the rood, milord, but we thought that you were gone! I have never been so thankful to see a man—”

“Wait, please, my friend. Tell me, what has happened in England?”

Becker stepped back, a small man with a trim mustache, dark, soulful eyes, and a square, determined chin. “Well, milord, they still claim as how you are a murderer. But those who knew you, including the king, they say, believe in your innocence. God love you, Your Grace! Any sane man knows that you couldn’t have done it!”

Pierce crossed his arms over his chest. “My estates, were they confiscated?”

“No, milord. All was left with your wife, Lady Rose.”

His brow shot up. “So she inherited my property and title as well! Tell me, does she come to the docks often?”

Captain Becker shook his head. “I saw her but once, milord. Ah, a beautiful creature, she is! She came to me sweet as could be, said she meant to return in time and take the business in hand herself. Said she knew ships well, because her father was a merchant, you see. For the time being, she just wanted to go home. She were so pale and sad, milord. Truly grieved.”

Grieved indeed, Pierce thought, but he kept silent. “So she left England.”

“Indeed, milord, quite some time ago. She has gone to her father’s house, in the Virginia colony, so I understand.”

“Thank you, Captain Becker.”

“What will you do, milord?”

“First, I’ll ask that you tell no one that you’ve seen me.”

Becker crossed himself. “I swear it before God!”

“Then you may ask among your men for a few who are willing to take on a curious enterprise. I’m going to seize a few ships—foreign ships, of course. Spaniards! Promise an even share of any prize, and freedom on any isle any time a man may choose. I believe that I will need a new identity. Perhaps I have already acquired one.”

“But, milord! Risking your neck on the high seas—”

“My neck is already forfeit, if I am discovered before I am ready.”

Becker nodded gravely. “God go with you, milord. I’ll hand-pick the men to serve you.”

He gripped Pierce’s hand strongly, then turned and exited the cabin.

Pierce stared about himself.

It was a fine ship. The captain’s cabin was a little elaborate for his taste, but the vessel was sleek and trim, strongly armed with twelve guns.

It wasn’t a bad ship to claim as master.

A bottle of amber Caribbean rum sat corked on the desk. Pierce picked it up, pulled the cork, and drank from it deeply. God, it was good! It burned him, it made him shake. It made him realize that he was alive. And free again. He and the others had bested a shipful of men, and they were free. Masters of their own destinies once again.

He had so very much to do in life …

But he had to bide his time. He couldn’t behave foolishly or rashly. He had to take great care with every move he made.

Sean burst in upon him. “The Spaniards who have survived have been given over to Captain Becker. He’ll take them back to England to stand trial.”

Pierce nodded.

“However, Manuel has asked to see you. He wishes to join us.”

“Send him in.”

Sean returned with Manuel. The cook wasn’t humble. With his chin firm in the air, he reminded Pierce that he had saved his life. “And now I am your man.”

“He’s a Spaniard!” Jay warned, joining their group.

Pierce assessed the man slowly. “A Spaniard, aye. But a good man, and that’s what’s important. Besides, he’s an exceptional cook.”

Josh, keeping an eye at the door as the English adventurers from the
Princess of Essex
joined them, looked from Pierce to Manuel.

“Milord DeForte, just what are you planning on doing?”

Pierce folded his hands behind his back. “I’m going to be a pirate for a while, I think,” he murmured. “I believe I’ll lift a few Spanish cargoes in return.”

He walked around behind the handsome captain’s desk, sat, laced his fingers behind his head, and thumped his boots up on the top of the desk. “I think that I will go all the way. I will be a gentleman of a pirate, of course. I will ransom all my hostages. I shall need an earring for my left lobe, I think. Manuel, can you see to a small piercing job?”

Manuel looked at him as if he were losing his mind, but shrugged. “
Sí,
as you wish!”

He grinned at Sean. “And a patch, I think. A black eye patch, a gold earring, high black boots. I’ll need a great plumed hat, of course, but I’m sure I’ll find one among Roderigo’s things. I shall become the ultimate pirate.”

Sean and Jay exchanged glances. “To what end, milord?” Sean asked him, “Forgive my impertinence, but we’ve come to know you here! You’re an Englishman, an honest one! How will this help to prove you innocent of the changes?”

Pierce cast his feet back to the floor and stared at Sean. “This … will buy us some time. I’m going to wait. Patiently. As long as I need to wait.”

“Until?” Jay queried him.

“Until I hear that the Lady DeForte, Duchess of Werthington, has taken to the sea.” He paused a moment. “Until I have set my hands upon her! Then and only then will I discover a way to reach England. And once there, my good lads, I will be exonerated and have revenge, or die in the effort!” He lifted the rum bottle he had set down at the desk. “To you, my fine lads. To a pirate’s life!”

Sean took the bottle from him, raising it. “To a pirate’s life!” he cried in turn.

The bottle was passed from man to man, and returned to Pierce. He lifted it once again and looked at the amber liquid. “And to you, Rose!” he murmured. He swallowed down the burning, healing rum quickly. “Manuel, can you manage me a bath at sea?”

“
Si!
” Manuel cried, delighted to be asked something that he could do. “A bath. You’ll be as good as new, Lord DeForte!”

As good as new …

Yes, he was free! He was sound in body and mind.

Strong, and growing stronger with each moment of freedom.

Now all he needed was time.

And he had time …

Indeed, it was all he really had in the world.

“I blame myself and no one else!” Ashcroft Woodbine assured his daughter. He was
Sir
Ashcroft Woodbine now, as the king had made good on his promise and knighted the loyal merchant. But it hadn’t changed her father any, Rose thought. He hadn’t needed a title to be master of his realm, and he was playing the master now, pacing before the huge hearth at their manor on the James.

He was ranting on, but Rose found herself curiously detached. She looked around the fine parlor with its cherrywood tables and beautiful upholstered sofas and chairs. Things here were elegant. Parts of her house were finer than Castle DeForte, for some of it was very ancient and worn, and Ashcroft Woodbine’s world was wonderfully new and rich. Still, she had always loved home. Because despite its newness, there was a warmth of it. Ashcroft had always filled it with his own vivacity and energy.

She felt almost tender toward her father now. He was blustering on and on, his jowls wiggling, his green eyes ablaze, his long legs eating up the room.

“I wanted too much for you, I did, daughter. He had the seeds of greatness in him, so I was told. And it turns out the man may be a duke, but a heinous murderer as well!”

She must have said it a hundred times already, but Rose sighed. “He was innocent, Father. I know that he was innocent!”

Ashcroft stopped pacing and strode across the room, bending on a knee before her and taking both her hands in his own. “Now, daughter—”

“Now, Father!” she countered, and she forced herself to smile, even though the world seemed to be weighing very heavy on her heart right then. “I’m telling you, he was innocent. Eventually I’ll prove it to the king, to you, and to God above, I swear it!”

Ashcroft studied her grieved, passionate features. “You’ll find another man to love, Rose, I swear it. Take time now, and you’ll find another—”

“You didn’t!” she reminded him firmly.

He looked down at his fingers. “You’re home, and I’m grateful for that. However, if I had ever had a chance to get my hands on his high-and-mighty lordship, I’d have skinned him alive.”

“Father, he was—”

“Innocent, I know. Forgive me, Rose.” He shook his head. “You’re hurt, you’re suffering deeply now. But time will help you. And you can just stay here forever, you know, sweet child. This house will be yours one day, and the fields, and the ships—”

“I can’t stay forever, Father. Pierce’s child, my child, will still inherit his father’s title and property. Father, I have to see to it that he has property left to inherit when the time comes. And I have to see that he has a name to be proud of in all the years to come. I have to prove his father innocent.”

“Yes, well,” Ashcroft murmured. “You’re home now. With me. And we’ve time.”

“Plenty of time,” she said softly.

His eyes brightened suddenly. “And I am going to be a grandfather! I can’t wait for the child! I’m going to teach him everything I know about ships—”

“And if it is a girl, Father?”

“Well, I taught you, didn’t I?”

She smiled. “You did. Then you sent me off to England.”

“To catch a nobleman,” he said with an unhappy sigh. “I do blame myself!”

“Well, don’t,” Rose informed him. “I …”

She was about to tell him that her marriage had had absolutely nothing to do with being obedient to her father’s will. She wisely refrained from doing so.

“Circumstances were simply what they were, Father.”

“Ah, but you’re still Lady Rose now!” he said, pleased with the sound of it.

How very little it mattered! Rose thought. But it did please Ashcroft, and so she was glad.