Heather Graham (29 page)

And being home was good. It was so different from Castle DeForte.

And Mary Kate had come here. In the privacy of Rose’s room, she had told her about the horrible way Jamison and Jerome had tricked and treated her. “Rose, I awoke from a knock on my head halfway across the ocean, so it seemed. Oh, those awful men!”

“Well, Jamison is dead,” Rose told her wearily. “And Anne.”

“The poor woman!” Mary Kate said, crossing herself.

“And Pierce!” Rose barely whispered.

“There, there, my little love, there, there,” Mary Kate had said. She held her against her broad bosom and rocked her. “Your man is gone, but you’ve the babe to come! You must remember that, always. And the babe will be a part of him, a flesh-and-blood part, to hold and love. It will come right, you’ll see. Give it time.”

Rose gave it time. She wandered down to the stream one morning and sat there watching the absolute beauty of the land, and she remembered telling Pierce about the place, that it was more beautiful than his special spot in England. And in the green grass beneath the blue of the sky, he had made love to her …

Then Geoffrey had come upon them, discreetly interrupting them. And from that moment on, they had rushed headfirst toward disaster.

She leaned back against a tree, her eyes tightly closed, her jaw locked, anguish tearing through her. She wanted Pierce back. Wanted to feel his arms around her. Wanted to breathe in his scent, feel his lips, his body, entwined with hers. For a moment the pain was so great, she could scarcely bear it. She forced herself to breathe. She was going to have his child.

The months passed quietly while she waited. Then the morning came when she felt the first twinge of pain. It would be slow, Mary Kate told her. Babies took time. First babies took a lot of time.

Ashcroft sent for his favorite doctor, a Jewish physician who had found tolerance with Ashcroft—since Ashcroft belonged to the Church of England for political expediency alone. The doctor, Abraham Golam, was skilled in ways that few men could imagine, and Ashcroft had valued him from the moment they had first met.

Abraham was the only man he would allow near Rose once her pains began. Rose seemed very frail to her father, and he had been worried long before the onset of her labor, though he had kept his fears to himself.

Abraham calmly ignored Ashcroft. Rose, he knew, would be just fine. She might appear fragile, but she had a steely strength.

When the pains first started, Rose was delighted. She was at the end of her waiting. She had felt as large as a ship for months, and though she already loved the little creature that kicked and turned within her, she was weary of the weight she carried, and ready to cradle her progeny in her arms.

But as the hours wore on, she was not so delighted. The pains were terrible, and they grew worse with each passing minute. Abraham came to see her.

“The babe won’t come!” she whispered miserably to him, her face bathed in sweat, her hair soaked with it.

“It’s not so bad yet!” Abraham said cheerfully. Then he smiled. “I’m afraid that it gets worse.”

“Worse!” Rose cried, staring at Mary Kate. Mary Kate, of course, shrugged. She’d never had a child.

The pain was intense. So intense that she screamed—and passed out. It was oblivion. But soon another pain seized hold of her, this one bringing her back to consciousness just as the other had stolen it from her.

Rose was amazed at the way she began to rail against the world. She couldn’t begin to understand how anyone had ever convinced women to have children. Mary Kate tried to explain to her that no one had ever really done that, it was merely the way things were. Rose forgot, just for a while, how much she wanted her baby. Mary Kate opened her mouth again and Rose swore at her. Abraham tried to tell her that Mary Kate was helping all that she could. But Rose used the very best—or worst—language she could think of against the doctor then.

Morning came and passed. Night, too. It was almost morning again. She was nearing the end of her strength.

“Come now, milady, you have to push. You have to help me.”

“You’re supposed to be helping me!” she charged him.

“I am trying to help you.”

“If you really want to help me, you should just shoot me!” Rose informed him. Mary Kate lowered her lashes quickly against the smile that curved her lip. The doctor flashed her a quick grin. Rose was still fighting, despite her words.

“Oh, the babe will not come!”

“Aye, Rose, it will!” the doctor assured her.

And then she screamed, because the head pressed through and the pain was fantastic. “Again, Rose!” She found the strength, and pushed. It was over at last.

“What is it?” she cried weakly.

“A boy!” Mary Kate told her. Rose could dimly hear a frail cry.

Her son! Her child. And … Pierce’s.

Mary Kate wiped the baby and brought him around. Rose stared at him with wonder, reaching out her arms to take him. He was magnificent! So tiny, but so fine and beautiful! Red and squalling and waving his tiny fists and feet …

Love, like sweet waves of warmth and fire, came sweeping through her. Hers … this precious life. A strong boy. His fingers were already wrapping around hers hard while he screamed against the injustices of the world he had so recently entered.

She checked him quickly.

“Oh, Mary Kate! He has all his fingers and toes!”

“Yes, love, that he does. He’s beautiful!”

“Oh, thank God, thank God!” Rose whispered. “Oh, I’m so very, very happy …”

Happy, but she burst into tears.

Pierce should have lived to see his heir.

Aye, he should have been with her.

Pierce …

She blinked away her tears. She had lost Pierce, but now she had his son.

She would be strong. So very, very strong!

For she would protect him, and his rights, with the very last breath in her body!

RUTGER’S TAVERN NEAR THE
Jamestown docks was a place where all manner of seamen gathered. Some honest, some not so honest. Some gathered there to share a glass of ale.

Some gathered there to gossip.

And some to learn.

Sean and Jay entered the place arm in arm, tottering just a little, as if they’d already started on a few measures of rum. The room was filled with smoke from the hearth, and from the dozens of pipes being smoked around the room. Pork fat sizzled over the fire, many a voice was raised high. It was a fine enough place. Those who came with dishonest purposes never once thought to cheat the tavernkeeper, or to make trouble on the premises. There was too much business to be done there. Honest men and thieves alike, they did not hesitate to draw up next to one another.

Jay, the more worldly of the twosome, indicated a short planked table where there was space still available. There they found seats with a few old sea salts, and in a matter of minutes, Sean, with his easy charm, had them talking.

“What do you hear of England, friend?” Sean asked one of the whiskered fellows. “It’s been some time since I’ve been home. How fares our king?”

“He’s well and good,” the first of the bewhiskered old fellows, a man named Sam, told him. He lifted his tankard of ale. “To His Majesty! Charles the Second of England.”

“Aye, we’ll drink to that!” Jay agreed affably, then frowned, seeing that his companions’ tankards were running low. He lifted a hand to the barmaid. “A pretty coin for ye, miss. See that my friends have another pint of their brew there. And I’ll see to you.”

The girl rolled her eyes, but seemed to like Jay and Sean well enough—she managed to roll her hips against him and lean low across him to serve him.

Sam’s friend, an old Highlander called Duff, thanked them for the ale. “What ships have you been sailing on, friend?”

“DeForte ships.”

“Ah, you’re working for the duchess then?”

Sean glanced Jay’s way quickly. “The duchess?”

“I thought ye’d said ye’d been serving on DeForte ships?” Duff, the grizzly old Highlander, said with a seaman’s dour suspicion.

“We’ve been at sea a long time!” Jay murmured. “Serving just one captain. Hey, we’re the crew! We obey orders from the captain and the first mate. If things are changing back home in England, we’ve yet to hear tell of it!”

Jay spoke earnestly, and with a grain of truth. Duff, a briny old sailor himself, understood about following orders.

“Well, lads, ye should know. She’s taken over. The Lady DeForte has taken the business into her own hands. What, man, ye don’t even know who ye been working for?”

“It’s—uh, good to hear that the duchess is still in command, that’s all,” Jay said quickly, smiling and then casting a stern eye at Sean. “God bless us all then, the duchess must be doing well herself!”

“Ready to head back to England shortly, so they say. There’s a rumor about another wedding. In fact, the duchess is to leave here come next Monday on the
Lady May,
looking to make port in Bermuda to do business with Sir Harold Wesley. Why, she’s a power, so they say! Took up in Virginia where her father left off, and took up in England doing just fine by her husband’s property. Though she be lucky to have that property. The king does have his weakness for beautiful women, so they say!”

Sean leaned forward. “So you think the king should have confiscated DeForte’s property from his widow, eh? I’d always thought the fellow should have been vindicated! From what I hear say, he was not the man to stab another in the back!”

“Who’s to say? The evidence was piled against him, that’s what I heard. He was found with the bodies by the king’s own men. Maybe he is a murderer.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Maybe not!” Sean insisted, dark eyes flashing, starting to rise from his chair. Jay dragged him back down. “She’s leaving here on the
Lady May,
eh! That’s a DeForte ship, isn’t it?”

“Aye.”

“Who’s her captain?”

“You looking for more work? What ship was it that you were on before you came here?”

Sean hesitated. Jay plunged in quickly. “The
Lady of Windsor,
” he said, giving the name of another DeForte ship he had seen, just arrived in the harbor that afternoon. “She’s going to be staying a spell, so I hear. She needs a few repairs. We are interested in working another ship. I like DeForte ships. An honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work.”

“Then you might try the
Lady May.
She’s being taken out by a Captain Niemens, a fine fair fellow, been with DeForte since Lord DeForte returned with the king, I’ve been told.”

Jay rose, dragging Sean along with him, and dropping a gold piece on the table. “Well, if we’re to start finding work on another ship, we’ll be needing a good night’s sleep!” he told Sam and the Highlander.

“You just take care!” Sam called after him. “There’s some mean pirates out in these waters. Keep your powder dry and your eyes sharp, no matter who you sail with!”

Jay would have kept on going. Sean drew to a halt. “Pirates, eh?”

The old man nodded. “They say there’s one they call the Dragonslayer who’s creating havoc on the seas. The Spaniards are afraid to leave their docks! A lady and her duenna were kidnapped right out of Cartagena, so I’ve heard. The Dragonslayer! Men downright tremble when they hear the name!”

“They tremble?” Sean said, a broad smile curving into his lip. Jay punched him in the back. He sobered quickly. “But I heard that he doesn’t attack English ships.”

Sam wagged a finger at him. “With a pirate, laddie, you never really know. Just keep your eyes out on the sea! Ye never know when such a one as that may tire of Spaniards and an occasional Dutchman and start on the English! There’s never been a ship to wrest with him and come out of it unscathed! There’s been word that the king will send the whole Royal Navy after the fellow soon, but then, the king has been saying that for months now, since the fellow first took to the seas. I can tell you, our good King Charles isn’t sending anyone after the fellow—not when he continues to relieve Spaniards of their New World gold. Seems he’s just robbing from
capitáns
who were really nothing more than thieves themselves! Mind yerselves just the same. These waters can be treacherous!”

Sean smiled. “Thanks for the warning, old fellow! If I ever meet up with that Dragonslayer, I will be forewarned!”

Minutes later they were out walking along the shoreline at the mouth of the river until they found their longboat. Sean rowed hard. Jay chastised him. “Now, we went for information, not to give it!”

Sean smiled mischievously. “And we got the information! I didn’t give away a thing.”

“You grinned like a sleek cat when that old fellow spoke with awe of the Dragonslayer. What is he going to think?”

Sean laughed. “Who cares! We did get information. And what information!”

It wasn’t half an hour later that they reached their own ship, brazenly anchored not far from the land itself. Josh and Manuel helped them climb back aboard, and then they hurried for the captain’s cabin.

Sean knocked upon the door.

“Come in!” Pierce bid them.

He was seated behind his desk, his hat upon the foot of the captain’s bunk, his black patch flipped up so that he could read his ledgers easily. If anything, Pierce DeForte had strengthened as a pirate king. The sea-reflected sun had bronzed his skin darkly. Hard work on the ship, and harder work besting his adversaries, had given him rippling muscles tightened like drums. Even seated, he was a powerful force of a man, his silver eyes sharp as they fell upon his men.

They had served him well. Just as Sean had promised, he had served him faithfully along with Jay and Josh—and Manuel.

And the others, the men who had come from his own ship, had set out on the high heels of adventure. None of them knew his true identity. His companions from the Spanish ship had called Roderigo the dragon when he had used them so cruelly; it was therefore natural that Pierce came to be know as the Dragonslayer.

Every man who served him was granted a share of each ransom he collected. He was an extraordinary seaman, but then he should be, having once been the owner of a whole fleet of ships. They hadn’t lost a fight yet.