The Pirate Bride (8 page)

“The cooper and the ship’s carpenter…they were from Black Luke’s ship. But they were both grateful not be serving beneath Black Luke, and they proved to be fine men. So…we started sailing the seas. We made up a dandy flag, and we all vowed to go by the pirates’ articles, as set down years ago by Bartholomew Roberts. We’ve not needed to fight near as often as you might think. Folks usually give over to a pirate ship with surprising speed.

“You must never give her away, Laird Haggerty. Never. I’d have to kill you,” Peg-leg assured him, adding softly, “Or die trying, at the very least.”

“I would never give her away.”

“Even once you’ve been ransomed yourself?”

“I would never give her away. I swear,” he vowed.

“Thank God,” Peg-leg said, and scratched his head. “I’m not so sure I
could
kill you. You’re pretty handy with a blade yourself. And you’ve never been a-pirating, eh?”

“Maybe we’re all pirates in a way, Peg-leg, seeking something we don’t have.”

“Now what would a laird need with pirating ways?”

“A good question. I might ask a similar one. I don’t see our captain as a greedy vixen sailing the seas for riches,” he said.

Peg-leg shrugged, turning away.

“What is her argument with Blair Colm?” Logan asked the man’s back.

“That is a tale I cannot tell,” Peg-leg turned and said solemnly.

“And why not?”

“Because I do not know it,” Peg-leg said. “You see, young laird, I did not say that I
would
not tell you, only that I
cannot.
”

“If she is after him, I would gladly sail with her until he is found,” Logan said.

Peg-leg studied him a long moment. “And glad I’d be to fight at your side, Laird Haggerty. But I believe she intends to set you free as soon as it might be done.”

“But the ship needs careening,” Logan said.

Peg-leg actually blushed a furious shade of red. “She’s a good ship,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had most certainly been overheard.

“So…it will be a while,” Logan said.

“So it will. Who knows what may come?” Peg-leg said. “The sea…always a wicked mistress, eh? Tempting with her beauty and her promise, deadly in her vengeance.”

Was he truly speaking of the sea? Logan wondered, and thought of their captain instead. Her eyes were just as Peg-leg had just described the water they sailed. As blue as a clear sky at times, then deep and indigo, roiling like a tempest at others.

“Today the ocean is at peace,” Peg-leg said gratefully.

“Aye. Today…she is serene and lovely. Gentle and sweet,” Logan said. What had he been thinking? Red Robert was never at peace. She was always torn within, so it seemed.

Peg-leg studied him seriously once again. “Well, we shall see.”

“So we shall,” Logan agreed.

T
HE CARGO HOLD
was filled, and the anchor was raised. The breeze was picking up, filling the majestic sails, and the ship set out to sea as if she rode above the clouds.

He worked the mainsail with Silent Sam and Peg-leg at his side. At the bow, Red Robert stood, hands clasped behind her back, as she faced the wind. She had learned to ride the waves, and she swayed ever so slightly, as if she were one with the ship. She didn’t shout out orders; she spoke them to Brendan, who called them out to the crew. They were headed north, on a path that would eventually lead them up the Florida coast to Georgia, and then to the outer banks of the Carolinas. Logan was convinced at first that she didn’t intend to bend to Peg-leg’s plea that they careen the ship for cleaning, but as they neared northern Florida, he began to recognize a number of the islands, and he realized she must know of some safe haven where they could go to make the necessary repairs.

The day had been perfect. It wasn’t until nightfall that Logan first felt the shift in the wind, which came with a sudden cooling. The day had been hot, the heat eased only by the sweet rush of the breeze. At dusk, he felt the difference, and he saw that several of the men seemed to notice something amiss, as well.

He was pondering the weather when he found Brendan at his side.

“Captain Red would have a word with you, Laird Haggerty,” Brendan told him.

“Oh?”

“Captain’s cabin.”

He nodded. He had just donned his coat against the chill, and he followed Brendan with his shirt duly tucked, his hair queued, his vest in order and his boots polished. He entered her cabin when she bade him to and stood before her desk, waiting for her to look up. While he stood there, he examined the books lining the shelves. Most were sea charts, logs and navigational manuals, but there were works of fiction, as well. He couldn’t help but wonder if Red hadn’t added to the library that had once been Black Luke’s.

“It has been drawn to my unhappy attention that the ship must receive maintenance,” Red said without looking up. She dipped her quill into the ink and continued writing in what appeared to be a log.

“So it goes with ships,” he said.

She glanced up at that. “I’m assuming, Laird Haggerty, that you have brought your ships into dry dock, but I’m afraid that’s not a possibility for us, as you can well imagine. I had hoped to see you safely set upon an island in the Outer Banks within days, but I’m afraid that will be out of the question until we’ve completed repairs.”

“I’m at your disposal,” he replied with dry humor.

“Hmm,” Red murmured, returning to her writing. “I received a letter today. A Lord Bethany—and a Lady Cassandra Bethany—have offered to pay for your safe return.”

Logan didn’t know why he found that information so disheartening.

“They are good people,” he said simply.

“I left a reply. Good people are apparently not above finding those who are willing to enter pirate towns. The letter came through the Cock’s Crow.”

He smiled slightly at that. “Captain, I have been in that tavern before, as you know. I am glad that you will receive the ransom.”

Red studied him for a moment. “I left a reply that you would be left safely ashore. We are asking no ransom.”

“That’s quite generous of you.”

“You are apparently quite dear to Lord Bethany—and his daughter. I thought you should know.”

It was curious that she seemed to be expecting something from him.

He was silent for a moment. “Thank you,” he said. It was almost a question.

“Lady Cassandra Bethany. Is she your fiancée?” she asked. The tone was casual, as she set quill to ink once again.

“Not at this time.”

Red looked up again. “Ah. Perhaps your beloved?”

“A very dear friend.”

“A proper young lady?”

“Quite proper, yes. Why do you ask?”

Red set down the quill and sat back, a half smile curving her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m just imagining your life. The drawing rooms, the elegance. A proper young woman. Ah, but proper can mean so many things among the wealthy. Proper—she’s rich. Proper—she has a title. A proper marriage would no doubt provide a wonderful advancement in your social status.”

The words were like nails raking down his back.
Proper
could be all those things. But if he’d had his own doubts about sincerely being
in
love, rather than feeling an infatuation and an affection for someone, the taunting words of the captain were like knife cuts against his soul. He found himself taking a step closer to her desk and leaning both hands upon it. “She is proper in every way, Captain Robert.”

Red laughed suddenly. “Does that mean she’s as ugly as sin?”

He shook his head. He could be honest. “No. She’s a striking beauty, truly. Eyes like emeralds, and hair as blond and rich as gold. That is the truth. But even did she not have such a lovely visage, it wouldn’t matter. She has a certain purity of heart, a sweet humor, and is ever willing to help anyone downtrodden or in danger. There is truly nothing ill to be said of her.”

“Well, I hope you will both be very happy. It sounds as if you make a perfect match. I had not previously imagined such a thing could really be, I admit,” Red said, and the laughter was gone. There was no taunt to the words.

Yes, we
should
be perfect together, he thought.

And yet…

What was missing? Whatever it was, he had come to realize that Cassandra certainly deserved far more than what he could give, something that had nothing to do with lands or riches.

“That’s all, Laird Haggerty,” Red said.

“Pardon?”

“That’s all. You may leave.”

He bowed and exited the cabin. As he closed the door, he felt the further drop in temperature and realized with a certainty that a storm was coming.

In the distance, he could see a sheet of rain across the eastern sky. He didn’t know how many miles off the storm was, but it was going to be severe when it arrived.

Brendan was striding toward him with a frown furrowing his brow.

He nodded curtly to Logan; he was anxious to reach the captain’s cabin.

“A storm is coming,” Logan said.

“Aye.”

“We need to lower the sails.”

“Aye.”

Red had sensed the change from inside her cabin; she emerged now and stood by the door, as if smelling the air and feeling the direction of the breeze, which seemed to have gone suddenly still.

“It’s coming from the east,” Logan said.

“I’ll order the sails brought down,” Brendan said.

“No, not yet. Catch what wind we have. Isla Blanca is not far,” Red said. “If we can make her cove, it will be a safer place than we might find here or by pushing out to the open sea.”

“You can’t outrun what’s coming,” Logan warned.

She gazed at him, aggravated. “I don’t intend to attempt to outrun the storm, merely bring the ship into more protected waters. Brendan, take the helm and cut a hard course.”

He nodded.

“And call the hands,” Red said quietly.

“All hands on deck!” Brendan shouted.

There was a scurrying sound, footfalls upon the planks, as the crew gathered from their tasks.

“Batten her down!” Red ordered. “All cargo, no matter how small, goes below. Extra rigging, gear, anything that might blow or roll overboard…down below.”

At that moment, an eerie silence fell over them, as if nature herself had stilled.

Logan knew that silence, just as the crew did, and knew it well. It was the calm that came just before the fury and tumult of a storm.

“See to the small rigging, Logan,” Brendan ordered on his way to take the helm from Silent Sam.

“Check your setting. Hard west, northwest,” Red ordered.

Amazingly, despite the deadened wind that was just a wicked tease before the gale, Red’s orders brought them whipping hard toward the shallow waters. There were many islands here, Logan knew.

And treacherous sandbars as well.

At least they were far north of the reefs that might have torn apart the hull; if they could ride the waves without breaking up, they could weather the coming storm. As he wound and stored heavy ropes and canvas, he had to admire the seamanship of the pirate captain.

“Lower all sails!” Red called out when they reached the cove. Hagar took up her order, and it was roared about the ship.

Logan raced to join the men. Muscles bulged on massive, hardworking forearms as the crew set about the task. From the crow’s nest, a crewman shouted down, “She’s on us!”

Red stood at the stern then, her spyglass in her hands. Hagar was near, repeating her orders as she called them out.

“Down from the lookout, Davy!” the big man ordered.

And then the rain began.

It came with a sudden rage, along with the wind, which blew so hard it seemed the rain rose from the sea and tore at them horizontally. It stung like a swarm of bees. It was like being raked over and over again by massive talons.

“Lash yourselves to the mast!” Red yelled, but it was an unnecessary order, for the crew seemed to know by instinct that the time had come when the ship was at the mercy of the waves, and themselves with her.

Brendan tied himself to the wheel, doing his best to keep the ship perpendicular to the wind and avoid being hit broadside by the tremendous force of the sea and the storm. But despite their best efforts, a rope broke from the mainmast and came flying down toward Brendan, the large and lethal steel grommet at the end heading straight for his head.

Red saw what was happening. She hadn’t tied herself to the ship yet, and she went running.

As Logan and Hagar did.

Logan launched himself at the rope, catching it just seconds before it could complete its downward arc. He flew with it and crashed into Brendan himself. The breath was knocked from them both, but the disaster had been averted.

Hagar, however, had been pitched, helpless, to the side of the ship just as she had taken a hard roll.

“No!” Logan heard Red’s roar of denial, and saw her go flying after the man as he threatened to roll off the starboard side. She caught hold of him by the belt, and as the ship rose again and pitched in the opposite direction, she and Hagar rolled back to safety.

But the wind was wicked and ruthless.

It shrieked like a banshee, tearing around the naked masts, swirling the sea to further violence. The ship rolled hard again, and this time it was Red who was helpless as she was picked up by the storm and flung straight over the side.

Logan let out a shrill scream of anger, fear and fury that rose even above the howling of the wind.

He had to move in split seconds, even knowing that in this sea, with these waves, he was surely committing suicide with no chance of finding, much less saving, her.

But he had no choice.

He stripped off his coat as he raced across the deck, leapt to the rail and plunged into the vortex below.

P
ERHAPS IT WOULD
be a welcome grave, Red thought.

She could swim, could even buck strong waves, and she knew about currents and giving herself over to the power of the ocean, floating to save her strength, to save her breath….

But there seemed to be no top and no bottom to the water. There was no wave that offered the promise of carrying her to shore. There was no air, no sky, no
surface.
She was plunging down….