Mariah's Prize (25 page)

“My father was no mean little wretch, and believe me, if you’d won, he would have paid his debt honorably, like a gentleman!” Outraged, Mariah’s gaze swept around the room’s exquisite furnishings, at the paintings and porcelain and the ormolu clock on the mantel. Beyond the tall windows, green lawns swept down to the waterfront, where a ship far finer than the Revenge sat at her moorings. The wager would be an effortless one for Deveaux to honor, while her poor father would rather have ruined himself and his family than default. “You, sir, owe my mother and my sister and me five thousand guineas!”

Deveaux frowned.

“Mon Dieu, but you’re a vulgar creature! I can’t begin to fathom why Sparhawk” could have fallen in love with a harridan like you. “

“You’re wrong,” she said quickly, her heart beating too fast at the mention of Gabriel.

“He doesn’t love me.”

Deveaux tipped his head quizzically.

“Won? Then why has he bought you this gown, these pearls? Not even he is so generous with his mistresses. No, he loves you well enough to have married ” you. All the islands have been aflutter over your wedding. It must be your resemblance to his long-lamented Catherine, for to my eye you have little else to recommend you. “

His criticism stung Mariah as keenly as he’d intended. “I ordered the gown made myself,” she lied defensively. “The pearls were a gift from another gentleman. GabrielI mean Captain Sparhawk—doesn’t love me, and he never meant to marry me.” That much at least was true enough.

“He loves you,” said Deveaux firmly, “and he will come for you.”

“No!” Regardless of whether Gabriel loved her, she still loved him. If Gabriel followed her here, this man would kill him, and it would be her fault.

“No, Captain, you are most mistaken. He took me to his bed, that is true, but he never loved me, not in the way that you mean!”

Beside her Jenny gasped at the truth, but Mariah barely heard her. ‘ “You must believe me. Captain. I mean nothing to him. You might as well let me and my sister go, now, so that we can return home to Rhode Island, and” — “Sparhawk loves you, and he will come.”

The note of sadness to his repetition unsettled Mariah even more.

“I

swear to you he won’t! The wedding was his father’s notion, not his, and he never would have married me! What we shared was idle pleasure, the same as with all his women. I mean nothing more to him, and he means nothing to me! “

She was panicking, babbling, the desperation palpable in her voice, and she knew with it she was losing any chance of the man releasing her and Jenny unharmed. Thank God at least he knew nothing of the child she carried, and she fought the impulse to shelter her belly with her hand in a gesture that would give away that last secret.

But still there was none of the triumph she’d expected to find in Deveaux’s eyes: “Ah, mademoiselle, every word of denial betrays your true feelings. You love him, and he loves you. So simple, so right.

You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? C’est bon. I’d want you worthy of the man who will give his life in the empty hope of saving yours. “

Deveaux brushed the back of his hand gently across her cheek, and this time Mariah couldn’t help herself from pulling away, bumping into Jenny beside her. For a long moment the Frenchman left his hand suspended in the air, the red stone in his ring bright in the morning light, before finally, slowly, lowering it to his side.

He turned and walked to the table, the ban yon drifting behind him.

Carefully he began to peel another of the tamarinds, the blade of the porcelain fruit knife slipping deftly under the bright pebbled skin, never piercing the flesh beneath it.

“Oh, he will come, mademoiselle,” he continued, almost talking to himself instead of her.

“And when he does, he will die not only for you, but also for how he left me unable to know the sweetness of a woman’s love, the sweetness that he so carelessly squanders. Once I was like that, too, you know. Though you will not believe it, once women were eager for my company. Now they all cringe with horror, and even those whose favors I buy look away from me, just as you yourself have done. And it is all Gabriel Sparhawk’s fault.”

He let the knife slip, and the blade thrust deep into the tamarind’s pulpy flesh, the golden red juice trickling down his wrist. He looked up at Mariah and smiled, not bothering now to hide his scar, and in spite of herself she shivered.

“But it’s nearly done, ma cher. Our score is nearly equal. Just as he has lived, mademoiselle, so shall your Sparhawk die for love. And so, alas, must you.”

From the quarterdeck of the Revenge, Gabriel stared hungrily at the bright green island on the horizon, knowing that somewhere on it was his Mariah. Only three days he’d been without her, and it felt like three lifetimes. He told himself that Deveaux wouldn’t dare harm her, at least not yet. He knew well enough that she was merely the bait to draw him into his old enemy’s range. As a trap, it was more obvious than Gabriel expected from a man like Deveaux, but it had worked. He’d go to hell itself if Mariah were a prisoner there, and Martinique was a good deal closer.

“There’s not much use in hanging back, not when the bastard’s expecting you,” grumbled Jonathan as Gabriel handed him the spyglass.

“Most likely his people have spotted us already. He owns half the damned island.” “How many men on the plantation?”

“One hundred, maybe more. No one gets close enough to know for certain. Deveaux’s got long guns mounted on either side of the cove, there, that take care of anyone getting a mite too curious. The navy men in Nassau looked the other way on account of Deveaux claiming to be chasing the Spanish, but you know as well as I that he takes whatever he wants, no matter what flag it’s under. This new war with France only gives him another excuse.” Jonathan spat over the rail.

“He’s a pirate, pure and simple.”

Gabriel’s face hardened.

“You should know by now that you can’t count on the English navy to settle New Englanders’ affairs. We’ll take care of this ourselves, same as always.”

Jonathan grunted in agreement.

“We’ll be waiting for you here tonight, giving Deveaux an eyeful out near his harbor. But once we set you down on the north side, you and young Watson go straight to the house now, fetch the lasses, and back you come. Nothing more, mind, or your mother will have my head,” He thumped at the railing with his stick, his thick black brows drawn together.

“You should’ve killed Deveaux last time, boy, when you had the chance.”

Gabriel smiled wryly.

“I thought I had. Father. He looked dead enough when they carried him off, though I’ll wager he thought the same of me.”

“Sweet Lord, your poor mother won’t let me forget it! She’d faint clear away if she ever saw the fancy piecework your Dr. Macauly made of your chest. I thank the Lord you’ve got lives enough for a cat, Gabriel, and I hope there’s a few left to spare.” His weather-worn face softened, and self-consciously he patted Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Once I had to do my share of swordplay and tomfoolery to get your mother out of trouble, and your Marian’s just the same. She’s worth it, too, same as your mother was, and they’re beth better than our rascally hides deserve, eh?”

Gabriel looked at Martinique, unwilling to let his father see the raw emotion he knew was plain as day on his face. Even as a boy, he’d never heard his father speak this way to him, never shared this kind of camaraderie, and he didn’t trust it. How could his father know what he felt for Marian? Any minute now the old man would call him a sentimental mama’s boy and try to knock him with that stick of his.

Nay, it was best not to let his guard down around his father.

“I can’t answer that,” said Gabriel at last.

“When I bring her back tonight, you can ask Mariah herself.”

“You’re certain you can do this, Jenny?” whispered Mariah fiercely that night through the darkness of their cell. “Not that we have any other choice. No weeping or whimpering, mind?”

“I know it’s our only chance, ” Riah. ” Jenny’s quavering reply mingled resentment with fear.

“I don’t want to stay here any more than you do.

I swear I’ll moan and toss on the floor like a proper bedlamite until the turnkey’s in the door. ”” Your bodice is unlaced? ” Mariah gave an extra tug to lower her sister’s neckline further.

“Kick your skirts up to your knees, too. You’ll have to give him a proper eyeful so he doesn’t notice me. At this hour he should be alone.”

In the inky shadows. Jenny’s blond head bobbed nervously, and Mariah gave her a final hug.

“Well enough, Jen. We’d best be at it, eh?”

She took one final deep breath to steady her nerves and closed her eyes long enough to murmur a brief prayer for success. True, she’d rather die now than at Deveaux’s hands later, but given another possibility, she’d much rather live. She flexed her fingers around the handle of the heavy bucket and yelled for the turnkey.

“Oh, sir, sir, you must come at once! It’s my sister, sir, taken with some sort of fits, tearing all the clothes off her very body! Oh, sir, pray, come and help me tend to her before she’s naked as Eve in the garden!”

The turnkey had never admitted to speaking English, but Mariah was gambling that he’d understand well enough that the young woman he’d been forbidden to harm was now quite open to ogling. From the way he rushed panting down the hallway, keys jingling, Mariah knew she’d guessed right.

He threw the door open and lifted his lantern high, rewarded by the sight of the blond girl writhing lasciviously on the floor. He licked his lips eagerly and stepped toward her just as Mariah swung the oak bucket down onto the back of his head.

Jenny scrambled across the floor, snatching the lantern from where the turnkey had let it fall before the candle guttered out.

“Lud, ” Riah, did you kill him? “

“Nay, the fat pig’s still breathing, more’s the pity.” a Swiftly Mariah dragged the unconscious man into the center of the cell and rolled him onto his stomach. Together | she and Jenny tied his wrists and ankles with strips of tick-j ing they’d torn from the mattress cover, then gagged him with ticking stuffed with straw.

“Now douse the candle quick,” said Mariah breathlessly as she slung the iron ring of keys onto her wrist like another bracelet among the pearls. The man wore a small leather purse with a few coins in it, and she took that, too, looping the strap around her waist.

“Hurry, Jen!”

Yet Jenny hesitated, the lantern in her hand.

“Can’t we take the lantern with us? The night’s so dark.”

“And every guard in this place will see it bold as the beacon on Aquidneck Point! Use your wits. Jenny!” Mariah snuffed the candle’s wick herself, plunging them both into darkness once again. She took Jenny’s hand and pulled her along through the doorway, pausing to lock the door with their gaoler inside.

“The moon’s three-quarters full and we’ll see well enough once we get outside. Here, feel along the wall until we reach the outer door.

“Tis not so far, thirty paces at most.”

Outside the moonlight was as bright as Mariah had promised, and though the hour was past midnight, candlelight from the tall windows in the house streamed across the lawn, and male laughter, raucous with drink, rumbled out through the open casements. Ahead of them lay the harbor with the large, ship and a handful of smaller vessels, but Mariah was certain all of these would be heavily guarded by men loyal to Deveaux, rough French and Spanish pirates who’d be especially unwilling to risk their lives to help two Englishwomen escape.

Instead she and Jenny skirted the shadows to the back of the house, the grass wet and slick with dew beneath their feet as they searched for the path that Gigot had used from the smaller beach. Though she didn’t exactly relish the thought of meeting Gigot’s friends again, they’d probably be more willing to trade passage to an English island in exchange for the pearl bracelets—if they didn’t simply steal the pearls outright. She’d have to promise more of a reward when they reached their destination unharmed, and borrow the gold from the Sparhawks against the Revenge’s prizes.

Finally she found the opening in the trees to the path, and with a quick grin she beckoned to Jenny to follow.

“Be careful of the roots,” she whispered, shoving aside a hanging vine.

“I must have tripped a score of times before, and that was in daylight.”

But as soon as they began down the path, Mariah realized that half-buried roots were the least of their hazards. Bright though it had been on the open lawn, the moonlight barely filtered through the dense growth of trees and vines overhead, and it took all of Mariah’s concentration to keep them on the path at all. Twice she wandered off onto dead ends, forcing them to carefully feel their way back. She could have wept from frustration at how slow their progress was. By now the turnkey might have awakened to give the alarm, and Deveaux’s men might already be scouring the island for them.

Mariah swatted away the insects that dropped onto her shoulders, while countless others bit and stung her unprotected face and arms. Though she knew it was foolish, she wished now they’d brought the lantern.

The branches and bushes around them were alive with all kinds of shrieks and whinings and squawks that she couldn’t place, and she tried not to imagine the’ animals that could make such sounds. And lizards and snakes. Dear Lord, she hated snakes, and they wouldn’t make any sound at all. Something skittered across her foot, a long, flat tail swishing against her ankles, and she shrieked and jumped back against Jenny, who shrieked too.

Ashamed of her own response, Mariah grabbed her sister arm and shook her.

“Jenny, hush, it was nothing, I swear!”

“But ” Riah, I’m scared, and I don’t want to be here! “

“Then think of what Captain Deveaux had planned for us if we’d stayed back in that cell instead!” Mariah snapped.

“Think of everything he promised he’d do to us, and that was before we ran away! If he catches us now” — “He’ll skewer and roast you alive,” said a man’s voice with a heavy accent behind them. Mariah whipped around, and her heart sank when she saw the size of the man who stood behind them, in one hand, a large cleaver like knife he’d used to cut away the vegetation and in the other, a pistol pointed directly at them. “Buenas noches, senoritas.