Beautiful Tempest Page 8

  “What were you thinking, letting her keep that weapon?” Mortimer Bower said angrily as he joined Damon.

  “I don’t want to fight with her for the duration of this voyage.”

  “You’d rather take a bullet?”

  “No danger of that now.” Damon showed Mort that he had the weapon.

  Mortimer snorted. “You shouldn’t have gambled that she would come or wasted all that blunt hiring that small army in case she did. I know those four bruisers who escort her stayed your hand in the park that day, but did you really think you’d need so many to deal with them tonight?”

  “No, I actually hoped her father would be escorting her. We definitely needed those numbers for James Malory, as we learned firsthand on the last trip.”

  “So you would have taken him and not her?”

  “No. I want his cooperation. I won’t get it without leverage, so having them both would have been ideal.”

  “I still can’t believe she even showed up, young lady like her.”

  “And I was sure she would. I piqued her interest just enough. And by all accounts, she’s recklessly daring. Probably gets it from her father.”

  “Well, she came prepared, if you didn’t notice,” Mort grumbled. “As if she expected you to be waiting for her here. So I’ll allow it was a good thing you overdid it. But if even one of her men escapes, you will have lost your advantage.”

  Damon laughed. “When did you become such a doomsayer? We picked that location because it’s a street with hardly any traffic in the evening and it’s secluded due to the high walls of the London Docks. We were successful, Mort. Johnny signaled that by waving the lantern from shore. The street will be cleaned. Her family will waste time looking for her in London.”

  “Unless she left a note about where she was going.”

  Damon frowned. He’d have to ask her about that—or not. If she left a note, she probably wouldn’t be able to resist gloating about it.

  “And you weren’t expecting another coach full of guards tonight,” Mortimer said, continuing to point out what hadn’t gone according to plan. “That flat you rented to hold the prisoners for a week is going to reek by the end of it, with all the extra bodies in it.”

  “Better than killing people who don’t deserve killing. Which is what those damn pirates wanted to do. Hell, they wanted to storm Malory’s house, you know. They would have got us all arrested, trying something that stupid in that part of town. It was hard enough getting them to agree to let me handle the details of Jack’s arrival. I’m still a little surprised it worked.”

  “I suppose young ladies love mystery and romance.”

  “It was worth a try, though she’s not a typical young lady. And the proof is, I think she came to capture me. She alluded to as much.”

  “But how would she have guessed?”

  “I don’t know—yet. Now stop being so negative. Nothing ever goes exactly according to plan. I’m pleased with our progress. My only regret is that we had to involve his daughter again.”

  “You had no choice. We already learned Malory is impossible to take down. Trying it twice on our first trip to London just got six of our crew so injured they had to be replaced and forced us to follow Malory and his family to America. At least Malory just thought we were thieves trying to rob him, so he never sent the watch after us. But your target did warn you it would be nigh impossible to capture Malory. Why else would he have told you to take one of Malory’s female relatives instead and given you the ransom note for that scenario?”

  His target. The irony was that they were both his targets, but originally there had been three. One was too easy and had been captured in days. The other two were so difficult that Damon had decided to pit them against each other and then deal with the remaining survivor. It had seemed a good plan, but it hadn’t worked the first time around. That failure had landed him in a dungeon where he’d been quite sure he was going to rot.

  The scarcity of food had brought despair. He’d eaten nothing the first four days and after that only when someone remembered to feed him. The small dungeon had been newly constructed and so secure, no guard had been needed. Damon had been alone in the single cell, but he had heard Andrew’s screams coming from somewhere aboveground. He’d wondered if that was the fate that awaited him.

  Catherine was responsible for his imprisonment in her father’s dungeon. She had blamed her lover, Andrew, for Jacqueline Malory’s escape and Damon for not preventing it. The first time Catherine brought him some food and water, he’d asked her if Andrew was still alive, but she hadn’t answered his questions, so he figured Andrew was dead.

  The solitude had given him time to reflect on all the things he could have done differently. He’d been assailed by regrets that he hadn’t succeeded in helping the one person most dear to him. And his ship and crew had been captured. Catherine had taunted him with that, though he’d hoped it was a lie, and it was. But Catherine didn’t admit that until she finally approached him with a new deal three long weeks later.

  “Your men are fine,” she’d told him that day. “My father wasn’t interested in punishing them for your failure. He was keeping them on your ship until he decided on a new captain for it. Then I think he forgot about it. He doesn’t go outside often these days and probably failed to notice that it is still anchored in the bay.”

  “I’m not surprised, as sickly as he looks.”

  “He’s not sick, he’s recovering,” she’d said angrily. “He wasn’t treated well in prison and it hasn’t been that long since he’s been out.”

  “Why didn’t my men sail away?”

  “And leave you? That big lummox you call a friend probably would have skinned them alive at the suggestion. Treats you like he’s your mother, as protective as he is of you. Why is that?”

  “I’m all he has left. He lost his family to a hurricane while he and I were away at school.”

  “So you adopted him?” she’d asked sneeringly.

  “We were already best friends” was all he’d replied, and he hadn’t meant to say that much.

  Giving Catherine any information about himself would be as foolish as succumbing to her seductions, which he was heartily sick of. He’d rebuffed her from the start. She should have stopped trying long ago. But for some reason she didn’t seem to believe that he disliked her.

  “He did try to sneak onto the island to rescue you a half dozen times,” she’d gone on to say. “I had to assure him you were chained to my bed enjoying yourself to get him to stop risking his life. But the idiot actually doubted me. So I let him know you would be released soon if he behaved, and that put a stop to his recklessness. You can thank me later.”

  “Was that a lie, too?”

  “At the time, yes.”

  “And now?”

  “Now you’re lucky I’m on your side.”

  Having her on his side was a curse, not luck, and he’d told her so that day. She’d merely tsked, dangling the key to his freedom on her finger.

  “You need to start being nice to me,” she’d said. “You have no idea how difficult it was to talk my father into giving you another chance. I had to convince him we are going to be married.”

  “Go away.”

  “You’d rather rot in here than marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  She’d left, taking the key with her, but was angry enough to return a moment later to snarl, “I lied. Marriage isn’t a condition. But I did make a lot of promises to gain your release. So we’re going to be successful this time. One way or another, we’re going to deliver James Malory for my father’s vengeance. You don’t know what he’s like when he’s angry, and he’s very angry.”

  “Then he did kill your friend?”

  “Andrew? Well, not exactly. He thought he did, whipped him so bad it was hard to imagine Andrew had any blood left. But he merely had his body tossed out of the hall. I managed to secrete him onto your ship so your crew could tend him. I have no idea if he survived or not. I d
idn’t bother to ask. But I suppose we can drop him off at St. Kitts when we stop there to stock up for the voyage—if he’s still alive.”

  She was so blasé about it, but he hadn’t been surprised. From his dealings with Catherine, he’d learned she cared about no one but herself—and that old pirate she called her father.

  She took him to see her father that day. On the way, Damon told her, “You should be running in the other direction, Catherine, not trying to please a man like that.”

  “Whatever he’s done, he’s still my father. And his anger will dissipate once he gets what he wants. For your sake, I hope you can assure him we’ll succeed this time.”

  In the large hall, Pierre was sitting alone at a table, but a half dozen other tables were filled with the cutthroats who’d eagerly joined the old pirate. Tall, maybe even muscular prior to his stay in prison, he was slow in recovering from that, was still too thin and haggard, and yet his icy-blue eyes were uniquely chilling. His black hair and beard were laced with gray and matted. He might have been handsome in his youth, but it was hard to tell now.

  He stood up when Damon and Catherine reached him, remarking, “At a simple first test of your loyalty, Captain, you failed grandly. I’m sure spending a few weeks in my dungeon has made you eager to prove you can be trusted never to fail again. A prison cell in Anguilla isn’t much different from the one I built here. It’s not easy for a man to survive in either. Are you ready to try again?”

  “I’ll take on the mission, but only if I can go alone, without Catherine. She only complicates the situation.”

  “How dare—!” Catherine started to yell.

  Pierre held up a hand. “He’s right, chérie. You’re too attractive and tempting. You’d only distract the captain when he needs to concentrate on the business at hand. Besides, I have a different jewel-stealing mission in mind for you.”

  Catherine had been mollified, seeming to bask in her father’s complimentary remarks.

  Pierre had turned to Damon. “As for you, Captain, no, you will not go alone. You will take my men to serve as your crew.”

  “I have a good crew, good at following orders. Your men—”

  “Follow my orders and will keep an eye on you and ensure your success this time. You can keep some of your men, but you do not leave without some of mine. If all is well when you return, then you will be given our new location.”

  “You’re moving?”

  “An old habit of mine. I never stay in one place very long. Once you have the girl, follow these instructions.” He handed Damon a folded small sheet of paper. “If she is not with you, you will be killed instead. Do you understand? I will not accept another failure.”

  “That is perfectly clear.”

  But then Pierre said in a darker tone, “You should have succeeded. The girl would have been let go if you had lured her father here in a timely manner so I could have my revenge. But I’ve been made to wait, so now I will have a better revenge. Can you imagine what that is?”

  “Both of them dead?”

  “Exactly.”

  That single word had had a profound effect on Damon. He might hate James Malory, but he certainly didn’t hate the man’s daughter. And he wasn’t about to let her die at an old pirate’s whim.

  Chapter Thirteen

  JACQUELINE STOOD AT THE large windows, watching the English coast in the moonlight behind the ship. She turned around with a snarl because she’d been unable to get to it. Failure, it was the bitterest pill. But she still had to do something to stop this from playing out according to Bastard’s agenda. If she couldn’t escape, she could slow his ship down so her father got to the Caribbean first to deal with whoever was behind the plot to kill him.

  But it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to sabotage Bastard’s plans on the last voyage. He slept too lightly. Every time she attempted to get the key to the cabin door, which he kept on him, he woke. But she didn’t have a dagger last time. She might be able to pick the lock with it and slash through his sails, if she could do it late at night when she wouldn’t be noticed. Or toss one of the lanterns at the wall and hope the helm on the other side of it would burn before the fire could be put out, but she’d have to do that while Bastard was in the room, since he never left her alone with lit lanterns or left tinder in the room so she could light one.

  The man took too many precautions. Nothing sharp in the room she could use against him, nothing heavy to throw at him. She hadn’t had a cot to sleep on last time, either. He’d offered his bed, which she’d rejected, so she’d been given several blankets instead. The cot was new. And the bars on the windows were new, too. He wasn’t about to let her escape through them again as she’d done the last time.

  The dagger on her thigh at least gave her more options this time. She could sail this ship if she could just get control of it. She could do that by killing Bastard to get his key, then sneaking out to find Jeremy and Percy and release them. If any of the crew were Englishmen, she might be able to convince them to change sides. If that didn’t work, the three of them could get the ship back to England at least, as long as they didn’t run into any storms. And now would be the time to do that, when England was still so close.

  She went to the door and pressed her back against the wall close to the door handle. The moment Bastard opened it, she could slip out behind him before he turned to lock it.

  Seconds later, the lock clicked, the door opened just enough for him to enter, and she shot out of the doorway. “At least have dinner first, Jack,” he suggested.

  His damn long arms pulled her back into the room. Well, that had been a little too hastily planned, so she wasn’t infuriated that it didn’t work. And he’d sounded amused. She supposed she would have been, too, if she were the one foiling such a sloppy escape attempt.

  “I’m not hungry,” she mumbled, and moved to sit on the cot while he lit the lanterns.

  She noticed that he hadn’t locked the door when he’d closed it, but that was his habit, too. As long as he was in the room with her, he was confident that he could keep her in it. He only locked it before he went to bed or when he left her alone in the cabin.

  When he turned to face her again, he warned, “I will not allow you to starve on this trip. Every plate of food you refuse is one plate your brother and his friend won’t be given.”

  “I told you he’s not my brother, and I demand to see them.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you aren’t leaving this room and they aren’t leaving their confinement. You’ll just have to trust me that they aren’t being deprived—unless you deprive them by ignoring the food you’re given.”

  “I wasn’t planning on not eating—as long as you don’t try to feed me fish again.”

  He actually laughed. “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “Everything is your fault.”

  “Be that as it may, we’re carrying livestock on this trip to keep the meals fresh, and even a real cook. In Bridgeport, all we were able to stock was fish because your relatives there had cleaned out the town of all supplies for their fancy parties. You can dine as you’re accustomed this time around.”

  He waved a hand toward the dining table, with six plush, padded chairs and a candelabrum at the center. She’d noticed it; she just wasn’t interested in anything bolted to the floor that she couldn’t use to her advantage. Last time, he’d offered her the chair at his desk, since it had been the only seat in the room. Last time, she’d thrown all those plates at his head. Until Andrew had convinced her she’d need her strength if she hoped to escape.

  Thinking of that fake Malory relative who had helped her more than she could repay, she asked, “What happened to Catherine’s actor friend?”

  “We returned him to England.”

  She’d seen that brief frown before he turned his back on her to move behind his desk and sit down. “You punished him for helping me, didn’t you?” she accused.

  “Not I.”

&
nbsp; She blanched. “Catherine’s father did? A man who favors the cat-o’-nine-tails?”

  “How the devil do you know that?”

  “Because we suspect you work for Pierre Lacross! And my aunt Gabby saw firsthand what that evil man is capable of. Are you working for Lacross?”

  She would have loved to hear confirmation. Even her father, suspecting it was Lacross, was going to get confirmation first by visiting the prison in Anguilla before he set out to find the pirate.

  But all Bastard said was “Andrew required a doctor so I hired one for the crossing. He may eventually recover completely, but at least he was able to walk off my ship without needing assistance.”

  “Are you implying you rescued him?”

  “That surprises you?”

  “The only surprise is that you would try to convince me you have any sort of compassion.”

  “Very well, I’m sure you’ll believe that it wasn’t my intention to rescue him, although I did end up doing that.”

  Jack didn’t believe that he’d helped Andrew, but she was convinced that Andrew had been brutally punished for helping her escape. She cringed as she imagined the sting of the whip on his back. She hoped that one day she would be able to repay him. But now she had to deal with Bastard.

  “Having bloodthirsty thoughts again, are you?”

  She met his amused eyes and quipped, “When you’re in them, of course.”

  “You are entirely too easy to read, Jack.”

  He wasn’t. This amused, cavalier manner smacked of his being smitten with her, but that was absurd. He’d been like this before, too, but last time he’d assured her repeatedly that she’d be let go after the exchange. He hadn’t yet made the same assurance in the last few hours. This time he had to know that he was taking her to her death. And that amused him? Was he every bit as evil as his boss?

  She shoved that thought away. She didn’t want to think that. She’d never get any sleep sharing a room with him if she did, and it was going to be a long voyage if she couldn’t turn the tables on him. She needed more information about him. She hadn’t tried to ferret out any the last time, when she’d attacked him every chance she got. She had to be more cunning now because she had different goals this time, to slow his ship down or capture it. Killing him in the process would just be a perk.