Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (33 page)

After Sam’s announcement and congratulations had been given, they’d moved outside to gather with the assembled crews, Luke’s, Cale’s and Blake’s. Luke had uncorked the rum and began sloshing the liquid into outstretched mugs. For each mug he filled, he drank to his unborn child. Considering there were nearly ninety men spread around the yard between the heaping tables of food and the fire, and Luke having just begun, Aidan figured the man would be lucky to see midnight. He scooped a shrieking Vincent into his arms.

“Let’s get you fed, boy. If you’re going to grow bigger and stronger than your brothers, you need to eat.”

“But, Uncle Aidan,” the boy whined.

“You should come, Sam. It’s important you eat.”

She smiled, placed a hand on Aidan’s forearm. “I will. I should get something for Luke as well. If he’s going to drink, he—”

Her body tensed and Aidan shifted to see why. Luke had passed the bottle to one of his crewmen and was heading toward them with long, purposeful strides. His hand was on one of the pistols he always kept tucked into his sash. He might not be a pirate any longer, but he’d never stopped dressing as one.

Aidan set little Vincent down. “Go find your mother. She’s over by the food. Go now.” The moment Aidan set the boy down, he threaded his way around the men, heading for the tables.

“Luke, what’s wrong?”

Though dusk was upon them, the firelight and few torches they’d staked into the ground provided enough light. His face looked pale beneath the black of his eye patch.

He pulled Sam close. “Something’s not right. You bring your arrows, son?”

“They’re in the house.”

“And your pistol?”

Aidan grimaced. “On the ship.”

“Damn it, I taught you better than that!” Luke’s gaze darted around. “Blake’s crew seems unarmed. Damn privateer,” he muttered. “My crew has been well trained; and some of Cale’s seem prepared. We won’t be completely defenseless from the start.”

Though Aidan had yet to see a threat, he didn’t doubt Luke. Luke had an uncanny ability to detect danger.

“I’ll get my bow now.” He turned. He had only taken one step when a shot rang sharply from the jungle. Then, like a plague, an army of men began to flood through the trees.

*

The cracking sound
of a shot blasted through Grace’s ears.

“Jesus, Lord!”

She dropped, wrapped her arms around her knees to protect herself and her child.

“Weapons! Arm yourselves!” Someone yelled over her head.

Arm yourselves from whom? Who was attacking them? Why? Grace lowered her arms, rose to her feet. Bodies bolted in every direction. Their steps pounded the ground; their legs pushed and shoved her as they rushed about. The ensuing motion yanked her hair from its pins.

Faces blurred by dusk and quick movements flew past Grace. It occurred to her that, other than Cale’s crew, she didn’t know enough of the others. Once their attackers reached them, Grace wouldn’t be able to tell which was friend or foe. She prayed the others would.

And, by Jesus, where was Cale? It was impossible to see him in the sea of swarming bodies. In fact, she hadn’t seen him since he’d taken Blake and Nate aside earlier. Had the shot come from him? Or had it been directed at him? No. Not Cale. He was fine. He needed to be fine.
She
needed him to be fine. Her gaze whipped about. Desperation clawed at her as she willed herself to see Cale’s face in the confusion.

“Mama!”

Grace shuddered. The children! Cale was a full-grown man, and the fierce Sam Steele, she had to believe he could take care of himself. But the children… Spinning, Grace fought the tide of surging men. ’Twould be easy for a child to get caught in the charge, to fall, and…

“Will!” Claire’s voice was frantic. “Will!”

“Mama!”

There! It didn’t last more than a breath, and it wasn’t Will, but through the flurry of men Grace caught sight of Alicia’s daughter and shoved into the flow. Elbows thrust her aside and she was jostled left only to be shoved back to the right. Her feet caught on her skirt. Grace grabbed onto the nearest body and was pulled along until she caught her balance.

“Get out of me way!” she yelled, even as she put up her arms to protect her face. “Helen!” she hollered, praying the girl was still on her feet while willing Claire to find Will. “Helen, where are you?”

If she hadn’t been listening for it, Grace would have missed the small reply. ’Twas near impossible to tell where the sound had come from in the thick crowd but, hoping she was right, Grace forced her way left, where she’d last seen her. Nearby, Claire’s voice was raw with fear as she called for Will.
We’ll get them
. Grace made the promise as she fought to keep on her feet amid the shoving, fought to keep from choking on the panic clawing at her throat.

And there, finally, she spotted Helen’s small, pale face. With a feral growl, Grace lurched between two thick slabs of men and grasped the girl’s sleeve.

“I’ve got ye, lass. Now hold tight and stay close.” Even as she gave the order, Grace tightened her grip on Helen’s arm. “Move!” she shouted, though she knew she wasn’t heard amid the rising battle cries. Still, she grunted and shoved, elbowed and thrashed. A brick of an arm caught her on the side of the head and Grace’s vision went grey.

*

Hell and damn,
he’d told them not to fire until he gave the signal. Roche’s plan had been to creep in undetected, or at least until it was too late for his enemies to arm themselves and take cover. Now, with the first shot still ringing in the air, with his crew barely clear of the jungle, an army of men ran toward them.

When he found out who fired that shot…

“Where did all these men come from? You said Steele didn’t have more than two dozen men aboard.” But when Roche turned, Isaac was no longer at his side. Damn it, he should have kept a better eye on the fool. He knew the man loathed Steele and was after his own revenge. Hell, he’d used it to his advantage, but now, when he most needed to keep to his plan, he had an out of control scallywag who could ruin everything.

It must have been Isaac’s shot and it had come from the right. Roche quickly moved on to a new plan.

“You two,” he said, pointing, “go that way. I’d bet the ship Isaac fired the shot. Find him and kill him before he does any more damage.” Then, keeping a dozen men with him, he ordered the rest ahead, praying they had enough in their thick skulls to remember their orders. He’d given a strict command, on pain of death, that Grace was not to be harmed. But as gunfire shattered the night, he could only hope they’d remember.

Setting it aside for now, he and the men he’d chosen bled back into the trees, using the cover to make their way toward the house. Roche could be patient when he needed to be, and he intended to wait until his enemy’s pistols were spent. Only then would he send this handful of his men out to take on whoever was left standing. Then he would slip undetected into the house and his unborn child—quite possibly a son—would finally be back where it belonged, with its father.

*

Cale fell hard
on his side. The searing burn stole both his breath and his sight.

With his cheek pressed into the vegetation, with the smell of earth filling his nose, Cale struggled to clear his vision. The stars above him closed in then shifted wide, closed in again. He wasn’t capable of more than the shallowest of breaths and even those took all his will and concentration. It could have been worse, he told himself as Isaac’s steps moved closer. He could have taken the round in the belly, then he’d be dying for sure. As it was, while the bloody pain had him gasping, he didn’t think it had hit anything more than skin and muscle.

Because he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t groan if he moved, Cale decided his best course of action was to pretend he was dead. He kept his breathing light—not difficult to do—and his eyes open. Nearby, on what he figured was the path leading not only to the
Revenge
but to Nate’s house, Cale heard the pounding of footsteps.

Gooseflesh formed on his skin. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. How many men had Roche brought with him? It bloody sounded like an army. And not only was Grace in danger, they all were. Until today, he’d believed he hadn’t let any of them to get too close, that he’d kept himself distanced. He knew now just how much he cared. For all of them. They were his friends, and despite his resolutions, they’d become his family. And, by God, he’d lost enough family.

Gritting his teeth, Cale forced the pain aside. He could whine about it later, for now he had to get to Grace and the others. With his back teeth firmly clenched, he willed his vision to clear. The first thing he saw was Isaac’s boots. And they were coming his way.

Cale’s muscles coiled. He had no idea where his knife had gone but if he could catch Isaac unaware…

He was about to pounce when another shot, so close Cale’s body jerked, blasted into the bench. Wood splintered around him.

“Get him!” someone yelled as Isaac ran, his boots barely missing Cale’s head.

Another shot whistled past and slapped through the vegetation.

“You missed!” One accused the other.

“As did you!”

Cale wasn’t sure if they could see him or not and while his heart thudded in his ears and pounded against his chest, he kept himself perfectly still.

“It’s too late now. We’ve got to get back to Roche.” And, with more rustling of vegetation they were gone.

Cale had no idea if Isaac had gone or if he was going to come back and finish the job but he couldn’t afford to wait.

The constant barrage of gunfire had him scrambling. Coming to his feet, he swayed. Cale put his hand to his wound, felt the hot, sticky blood slide across his fingers.

Now struggling with both nausea and dizziness, Cale unwound his sash, rebound it across his wound, wincing as he knotted it tight. It would do for now.

Then, tasting blood along with an equal amount of fear, Cale ran. Not for his life. He ran for Grace’s.

J
esus, don’t let
me fall
. Grace wavered, as she willed her feet to keep moving. She had to get Helen to safety. But, suddenly, the girl was pulled from her grasp.

“No!” Grace spun, was caught around the shoulders by a band of muscle.

“To the house, Grace, now!”

Blake! Thank God. With Helen firmly on one arm, and Grace tucked close to his side with the other, Blake cut a swath through the fray. Once clear of the throng of men, cool air brushed her face, soothed her throat, and cleared her vision. But they weren’t out of danger yet.

The door to the house sprang open, Alicia raced out. “Helen!” she screamed as she clung to her daughter and husband.

“Is everyone else inside?” Blake asked.

“N-no. Not—”

Claire, red hair flying and skirt flapping, careened around from the back of the house. “Will! Will!”

Oh, dear Lord, Will was still unaccounted for?

The volley of shots ripped across the yard. Claire stumbled to a stop, her hands flew to her lips and her eyes filled with terror. Grace had never felt so helpless in her life.

“Claire, get inside!”