Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge (12 page)
Read Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge Online
Authors: Jennifer Bray-Weber
She glanced up at Kipp. “What if you and I use a little persuasion?” she said.
A glint sparked in his eyes. He was on to something, too. “Lass, you are as sly as any pirate worth his salt.” He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze sliding between them. “You go on and talk to this officer. Leave the rest to us. We’ll get the capt’n his freedom. With a few grenades and fire-balls, we’ll get his freedom.”
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Sterling.” Elyssa took the seat the elderly man proffered. The office was modest in size but not in the material of the furnishings. Dark wood bookcases as tall as the ceiling lined the walls. Scroll work and pineapples were carved into the arms of cushioned chairs. A gilded frame of Lord Samuel Montgomery hung from the wall along with other pictures of important-looking men.
“Yes, well, I certainly have a few questions for you, young lady.” He sat behind his massive desk. “Tell me your name again?”
“Elyssa Calhoun Montgomery.”
He puckered his wrinkled mouth, nodded, and turned his attention to signing documents on his desk. “As Lord Montgomery’s trusted agent of the Bahamas, it is not uncommon for whores and beggars to come knocking at my door claiming lineage or some other ridiculous lie.”
He looked down his aquiline nose over the rim of his glasses to scrutinize. The pendulum of a tall eight-day clock clicked, ticking off her courage with each swing. She squirmed under his inspection. This man would be hard to convince the building was on fire, even as the flames licked up his chair.
“A terrible nuisance, I’m sure. But I speak the truth, Mr. Sterling. I
am
the widow of the late Samuel Dobbin Montgomery, daughter-in-law to Lord Samuel Montgomery.” She fished out the enamel portrait miniature of Dobie from the pocket of her skirt and slid it across the desk. “I’m not asking for money and you may thoroughly question my authenticity. You may have me jailed if you suspect I’m a fraud. But my relationship with Lord Montgomery is not why I’m here.”
“Ah, yes, this emergency.” Mr. Sterling studied the round portrait, focusing in, back, and in again over his glasses. “Governor Flynn and his hanging of a pirate.”
“Not just any pirate. Captain Blackthorn was once an esteemed officer of the Royal Navy.”
Bushy gray eyebrows rose, smoothing out the crow’s feet of aged years. “Captain Blackthorn, you say.”
“So you’ve heard of him. Then you know he is admired by men on both sides of the law. You must understand, sir. If Captain Blackthorn is hung, peace and trade for New Providence will be compromised. Pirates will swarm the island.”
“’Tis not my affair.” He tucked Dobie’s portrait into his vest pocket.
“Forgive me, sir, but it will be your affair when Lord Montgomery feels the decline in Nassau’s profits and colonists leave for America or Cuba.”
The chair creaked under Mr. Sterling’s weight as he leaned back, his elbows on the arms and his interlaced fingers resting on his portly stomach. Elyssa hadn’t convinced him yet. She mustn’t become too desperate. She mustn’t panic.
“Please, Mr. Sterling. Captain Blackthorn is to hang in less than an hour.” She willed herself not to look at the clock, mocking her with incessant clicks and whirs.
An explosion rocked the office. Pictures rattled against the wall. Vibrations reverberated across her nerves. Elyssa followed Mr. Sterling to the stoop. In the harbor, a blaze engulfed a boat, wooden planks and bits of fire rained to the water.
“Pirates are amassing now,” she said. “They seek justice.”
More smaller explosions clapped. Swirling gray smoke drifted to the sky in pockets around town. Mr. Sterling was visibly shaken now. His jowls flopped as he swallowed, smacked, and frowned. If she were to admit it, Elyssa felt the rush of fear, too. ’Twas good she was on the pirates’ side. She hoped any she met in the building melee knew it.
“Perhaps you could persuade Governor Flynn to halt the execution and avert a catastrophe. At the very least, insist Captain Blackthorn receives a fair trial.”
“What is your involvement in this?” He pinned her with suspicion. “If you are not after money, why do you care what happens to this captain or to this port?”
Startled, Elyssa hadn’t prepared herself for such a question. Suddenly it seemed everything hinged on her answer. The fate of the world, her world, was on her shoulders. Mister Kipp and Mac depended on her. She couldn’t fail. What could she do but tell the truth?
“He’s a good man, Mr. Sterling. He hangs so that other good men are pardoned.”
Criminy. The longer he studied her, the smaller she felt.
“Very well, Miss
Calhoun
.” Mr. Sterling reached for his hat and cane. “Let us go to the square and see Governor Flynn.”
Another percussion boomed in the distance.
“Rot me. That better be a raid,” Blackthorn muttered aloud. He hoped Kipp was not behind the commotion. Yet, he knew well enough his friend was.
Shouts carried in from outside. A faint but distinctive odor of spent black powder and burning wood wafted in through the crevices of the mud brick stones.
Christ.
Blackthorn pounded his fist on the wall of his courthouse cell. The boys would never get that pardon.
“I admire you.”
Blackthorn turned to his visitor. Christensen shoved a key in the lock and opened his door. Two soldiers kept their respectable distance behind Christensen.
“Admire a man who’s about to hang by gallows and gibbet?” He patted Christensen’s shoulder. “You gone and hit your head, did you?”
“Not many would willingly sacrifice themselves to save another.”
“Ah, but you did, when you slipped me the key to escape my last liaison with death.”
“No, there was no sacrifice, only risk. And I did so with none the wiser. You…you are intrepid, unselfish, and honorable. Damn it, Bran. What were you thinking? You know some of those men pardoned will go back to the fighting man way.”
“’Tis true. I won’t deny that. But it is the opportunity I give them to start afresh that matters. Many of them found their way into the pirate trade due to circumstance. Not all are scoundrels.” He paused. “They’re not much different from you, with wives and children. I won’t let them die because of Flynn’s hate for me. ’Tis my burden and I alone will suffer the umbrage.”
Blackthorn held out his wrists to be shackled. Christensen groused and clamped on the iron cuffs. They weighed heavily. Much like the realization he would soon be dead.
“That is where you are wrong,” Christensen said. “You are not alone.”
“The men will be fine. And as flattering as you are,” he chuckled, “you’ve got Annabelle.”
“I speak of the girl.” Christensen leveled his stare. “I saw the fear in your eyes when your man told you she’d been abducted. You’ve never been afraid of anything, Bran. I saw love and pain, too, when you sent her away.”
Elyssa’s kicking and screaming as Kipp carted her away skewered him through and through. Her tears had seared gaping holes into his core. He hated himself for the pain he had caused her. Hated that he tainted the angel with his designs.
“She’ll find peace and happiness. You’ll see to that, won’t you, my friend?”
Christensen nodded, offering him a sad smile. “I’ll make sure Flynn stands by his decree.”
Gunfire popped nearby. The soldiers tensed, readying for action should Blackthorn attack. They needn’t worry. Blackthorn had no intention of thwarting the gallows. Not with so many lives at stake.
“Let’s get this execution under way,” he said. “Before more necks are fitted for the noose.”
Warm westerly winds feathered across Blackthorn’s face as he exited the courthouse, winds which rushed in under the dying afternoon. The sky, though still bright, had bronzed with the sun’s trek to the distant horizon. He scanned the square. Soldiers had strengthened both in the plaza and at various points leading down to the docks. Beyond, in the harbor, several ships had dropped anchor, well within cannon shot. He hoped Elyssa was in a safe place. Trouble was sure to break loose.
Flynn joined them on the porch. “Damnation! Where’s that gunfire coming from?”
“Men are fanning out, Governor,” Christensen answered. “We’re isolating the incidents.”
“Well, string him up,” he waved a dismissive finger at Blackthorn, “and get this port under control, Commodore.”
Blackthorn’s one great regret in his miserable life—not beating the shit out of Flynn. Better yet, not killing him. Nay. That wasn’t entirely true. He had another great regret, hurting Elyssa.
He marched ahead of the two soldiers, their bayonets at his back, to the gallows. The gibbet’s skeletal arm reached out, dangling a hempen rope, beckoning with its hand of death for Blackthorn to come closer. A few onlookers braved the pockets of ensuing chaos of the port attacks and gathered around the platform. They wore curious expressions and none in the faceless crowd hurled the angry curses usually reserved for his ilk. One filthy lad, perhaps a dockworker, stopped Blackthorn. A tense moment passed. Christensen poised to strike down the man, but the fellow stared directly at Blackthorn and handed him a tarnished flask. Grateful for the offering, Blackthorn accepted the bottle. The shackles biting his wrists clanked as he took a swig. The liquor burned a trail to his gut. ’Twas nothing sweeter than to meet his maker with the taste of rum on his breath. He thanked the fellow and continued on to the gibbet where the executioner and priest waited. A priest…how absurdly redundant.
The executioner slipped the rope over his neck and tightened the noose. His skin prickled under the scratchy rope.
“I understand why you did this, Bran,” Christensen said. “But I fear Annabelle will never forgive you.”
“You take care of that sweet woman, Robert. Tell her I will be at peace.”
In hell.
Christensen smiled that pitiful smile again and stepped aside for the priest. Blackthorn tuned out the man reciting worthless prayers and mercy. He stared across the square at Flynn. The bastard’s grin was much too large for his mug. Blackthorn returned a smirk of his own. Flynn’s smile faltered. Even in his final moments, Blackthorn rankled his half-brother.
Closing his eyes, he conjured up images of a chestnut-haired beauty with radiant tawny eyes. An angel on his mind was a good way to die.
CHAPTER 10
“Stop!”
Fuck! What is she doing here?
Blackthorn craned his neck in his uncomfortable collar. Elyssa parted the crowd, making her way to Flynn. Where was Kipp? By thunder, one order,
one goddamned order
, and Kipp bungled it.
A dapper, hoary fellow managed to keep up with Elyssa. “Governor Flynn,” he said, mounting the steps. “I must speak to you regarding this execution.”
“Ah, Mr. Sterling, worry none. Pirate Captain Blackthorn will be justly hung in moments. Nassau will be rid of this scourge that for years has vexed our trade.”
“There is no justice hanging a man simply because he is what you are not. Magnanimous,” Elyssa said.
“What in the name of George is she doing?” Blackthorn said to Christensen. “And who is that old fellow she’s with?”
“Lord Samuel Montgomery’s officer.” Christensen shook his head. “I thought your boys were going to keep her clear from here.” He pointed to a group of soldiers, and motioned them to the government house.
Blackthorn could throttle her for interfering. Where the devil was Kipp? Kipp, Mac, somebody,
anybody
needed to get her away from the square, before she got herself imprisoned.
Flynn stared stoned-faced at Elyssa. “Were you aware, Mr. Sterling, that this girl was to be presented to you as a ransom by Blackthorn? I pause to wonder if she was a willing participant in the scheme.”
“Ain’t true.” Kipp, leaning on the government house wall and twirling his dagger in his fingers, edged around the corner of the porch. “The lass knew nothin’ of the ransom Capt’n Blackthorn devised for the King’s Pardon Flynn denied us. Seems Flynn ain’t so trustworthy and Capt’n needed insurance.”
“Get this rabble off my porch,” Flynn ordered.
Christensen halted the soldiers with a raised hand.
Kipp ignored Flynn and continued. “Even willin’ to give his life.”
Sterling, stiff as the dead and just as pale, listened patiently, his hands resting on the silver knob of his cane.
Kipp shoved off the wall. “But the boys and I—”
“Belay!” Blackthorn would not allow Kipp to implicate himself in the attacks. “I don’t deny the evils I’ve done. I accept my crimes and I’m ready to die.” He lowered his voice for Christensen. “Spare as many of my men as you can and, please, make sure Elyssa is safe.” Without waiting for a reply, Blackthorn addressed the headsman. “Whenever you are ready, mate.”
Blackthorn chanced one last look at his angel wringing the folds of her dress. Dusk sunlight seemed to absorb into the blue gown, creating a deep vibrant color. ’Twas almost as if Eylssa glowed. A halo of tresses and blue ribbons caught on the sea breeze. Her glistening tears were like celestial stars. There would be nothing more beautiful where he was going and he would savor the moment.
Gunfire split the tension, closer this time. A small explosion, likely a grenado, erupted in a nearby alley. Screams of “fire” quickly followed. Several men with buckets raced out of the plaza to douse flames.
Flynn took two steps down. “On with it!”
“No.” Mr. Sterling spoke loud and clear, silencing the growing anxiety of the crowd. “I advise you, Governor, to halt this hanging.”
Only Flynn was more surprised than Blackthorn by Sterling’s recommendation.
Flynn took the stairs back to the porch. “You would, would you?”
Flynn stood nose to nose with Sterling. Blackthorn was impressed by the old man. Sterling met the governor’s sneer undaunted, lifting his chin a fraction to look at Flynn through his spectacles. The man was as intimidating as a hungry bull shark.
“It is my job to protect Lord Montgomery’s investment.”
“And I am Governor in Chief,” Flynn retorted. “I know what is best for the colony and what is best is to eradicate menaces such as Captain Blackthorn.”
“I don’t believe a man with the valor and dignity this man possesses is a menace, trading his life for the King’s Pardon you are obligated to give under King George’s proclamation. You risk an unnecessary war with the pirates.”
“Won’t be no risk,” Kipp piped in, sheathing his dagger. “It’ll be certain and swift, it would.”
By brimstone, Kipp better know what he’s doing. Elyssa is too close in harm’s way.
“Commodore,” Sterling called. “Won’t you set the captain free?”
“No!” Flynn’s finger was as pointed as his eyes. “You will do no such thing. Blackthorn will hang.”
“Commodore.” Sterling tapped his cane on the porch.
Christensen nodded to the headsman to remove the noose. Constriction on his weasand loosened and Blackthorn could swallow again.
“Looks like you cheated death again, brother.” Christensen unlocked the shackles from Blackthorn’s wrists. He rubbed feeling back into them and rounded his shoulders to relieve his cramped muscles.
“The devil’s going to be exceedingly disappointed,” Blackthorn said.
Elyssa’s look of relief was immeasurable. Blackthorn wanted to go to her, hug her tight, land kisses over her luscious body, and smack her bottom for defying him. But he couldn’t. The danger was far from over.
“This is outrageous!” Flynn bellowed. “You’ve no authority, Sterling.”
“Perhaps. But I will remind you that as a confidante to Lord Montgomery, I can request your removal as Governor in Chief.”
Flynn ruffled up like a cock challenged for his hens.
“That makes you fairly powerless, Governor,” Elyssa said.
Bloody Christ, what was the lass up to now? Blackthorn wished she’d stay out of the strife.
“With respect, Mr. Sterling, mayhap you should consider the request regardless. Surely, New Providence will need a real man to govern. Maybe even a man with the brass of a pirate. ’Twould make the colony safe for trade.”
“Why, you little bitch,” Flynn spat.
Blackthorn hopped off the gallows platform. That bastard was not going to talk to his woman that way.
Flynn reacted to Blackthorn’s approach. He snatched Kipp’s dagger from his waistband and nabbed Elyssa.
“Blast! Not again!”
Blackthorn might have laughed by her swearing had the situation not been so dire. He shoved people aside and took the stairs by twos. Flynn shoved Elyssa aside and seized a soldier’s sword.
“Bran!” Christensen, running in his wake, tossed Blackthorn his sword.
Metal clashed against metal. An intoxicating sound to Blackthorn. Contact of the swords vibrated in his hand. Aggression pumped in his veins, hostility coursed through his blood like venom. It had been a long time since he fought, truly fought an enemy. Already, he was enjoying the battle far too much. And they had just begun.
Blackthorn parried each thrust and let Flynn lead the fight. Up and down the steps Flynn led them. Once back on the landing, Blackthorn thrust low in quick succession, forcing Flynn to parry low and driving the governor back, back, back, until they had left the porch and were in the rose garden. His wound throbbed from his burst of exertion; the warm ache blossomed up and across his torso. He gritted his teeth to ignore the sprouting pain.
Behind him, the footfalls of their audience bustled on the wooden floorboards. A feminine gasp reminded Blackthorn he had something to live for. The game had changed and he would do everything in his power to hold Elyssa again.
He swung wide, knowing Flynn would duck, just so his blade would lop off the top of a perfectly shaped rose bush. Fresh, floral fragrance filled the air. Red petals and bits of green leaves showered down.
“Oh, bother,” Blackthorn said. “Your precious roses.”
“You bastard. I’ll carve your heart out for that.”
Blackthorn laughed. “You may well try.”
Flynn roared and charged. Blackthorn spun aside, hopping up onto a square fountain. Blood red roses flourishing from a stone basket sat atop a pedestal in the middle of the fountain. With his boot, he shoved the vessel off the pedestal. Water spattered from the fountain with the impact, and the basket and plant broke apart.
For a moment, Blackthorn thought Flynn’s head might explode. Arrows afire with rage shot from his eyes. Cords of anger manifested along his reddened neck. Blackthorn almost lost his balance off the fountain’s edge blocking Flynn’s attack.
Blackthorn jumped down. The battle increased in brunt, fueled by fury. Damn how Blackthorn loved a good fight. But he grew weary. The gash in his side no longer ached, it burned anew. ’Twouldn’t be much longer and Flynn would have the advantage. Blackthorn needed to end this.
He locked blades with Flynn. Cross guards butted against each other. Their arms shook under the tension. Flynn’s rotten breath was as rapid as his own. Blackthorn witnessed the hate Flynn had for him deep in the black cesspools of his eyes.
“This is where we take our leave,
brother
,” he said. “Let’s make quick of it.”
“Flog you,” Flynn retorted.
Blackthorn shoved Flynn back and swung his blade. The metal resounded on impact and scraped along the edges as he spun the blades not once, but twice. The quick action twisted Flynn’s wrist, disarming him, and the momentum caused him to stumble backwards. The governor slipped on the wet cobblestones. A crack resounded as his head smacked against the ground. A mass of white curls flopped into a puddle.
Blackthorn poked the tip of his sword to Flynn’s chest. “I believe you owe Mrs. Montgomery an apology for your slanderous tongue, Governor.” When he didn’t speak fast enough, Blackthorn pressed harder.
“My apologies, Mrs. Montgomery.” Acid dripped from his words.
“I don’t believe you meant it.” How easy it would be to puncture his flesh and impale his bitter heart. ’Twas too bad Blackthorn’s own heart hadn’t completely rotted through, or he would have already snubbed Flynn’s life. “Again…with sincerity.”
“’Tis not an apology I want to hear.” Elyssa hastened to the fountain. Her blue gown swished with the lively sway of her hips. Kipp, Christensen, and Mr. Sterling followed. Not one of them resisted stealing a glance at her backside. Blackthorn didn’t blame them.
“I want to hear you decree Captain Blackthorn and his entire crew a pardon,” she said.
Kipp crouched down beside the Flynn. “Ah, don’t look so angry. Ya got a choice, ain’t ya? Pardon or die.”
“Governor Flynn,” Christensen said. “A reprieve would end this contention.”
“Traitor.” Flynn’s nostrils flared, his jaw jutting out in defiance.
“Nay, Governor. I only gave the man a fighting chance. Blackthorn may even be able to help remove pirate activity in the Bahamians waters.”
Flynn chuckled. “I’d rather die than have his help.”
“So be it.” Blackthorn wrapped both hands around the sword’s hilt.
Could he kill him? Aye, he could. But doing so would do nothing but satisfy the itch. He, and likely, his men, would face execution. Again. This time, with Elyssa reaching out but not daring to touch his arm, Blackthorn doubted himself. Was there a chance to carry on a life with her? He’d find out momentarily.
Ever so slightly, he raised the sword and leaned in to deliver Flynn’s death.
“Wait!” Flynn screamed out, his hands up. “Wait! All right. You win. I’ll draw up and sign a pardon for you and your men.”
Elyssa squealed in delight, and turned to hug the stiff, and quite startled, Mr. Sterling.