Bound by the Heart (30 page)

She straightened and squared her shoulders.

"Michael?" She opened the door a crack.
"Michael, could you come in here a moment please? No, it's all right,
Lottie, you may go to bed now. I'll see to the baby."

"Yas'm." The big black nanny ambled out of
the playroom, still chuckling over something Michael had said. He was grinning
as well when he came into the nursery.

"I suppose Sarah won't go to sleep without a
story from her uncle Em?"

"Come in here quickly," Summer said, grabbing
at his sleeve.

"What is it? What's all the—" He was looking
at the cradle, at the absence of blankets and hanging rattles and baby.
"Where is Sarah?"

"Michael, listen to me.
This is very important, and there is no one else I can trust but you. Will you
help me?"

"Of course, you know I
will, but where is Sarah?"

Summer bit down on her lip.
"Gone."

"Gone!”

 
"Yes, I—"

"You mean
kidnapped!”

"For God's sake, Michael,
keep your voice down!" she hissed.

"But someone ought to
know! We ought to get help if she's been stolen away!"

"No. No! She hasn't been
stolen. I mean, she has, but . . . but I know who did it. At least, I think I
know who did it."

"Who?"

"There isn't time to
explain!"

"Who did
it!”

"For heaven's sake." She pinched his arm and
shut the door tightly. "Will you keep your voice down if I tell you?"

"Who took Sarah?" he demanded in a whisper,
nodding.

"Captain Wade did—now you promised!"

Michael's eyes were the size of silver coins.
"Why would Captain Wade steal Sarah?"

"Oh,
Michael"—Summer's shoulders drooped, and the tears trembled on her
lashes—"because . . . because it's too long and too complicated to
explain."

"Is he Sarah's father?"

Summer blinked up through her tears.
"Wh-what?"

"I knew it!" he cried excitedly. "I
knew she was far too pretty to belong to stuffy Old Winifred. Oh, Summer, this
is jolly fine news! Does it mean we're all related? Does it make Captain Wade
my. . . my something or other?"

She swallowed her amazement. "It makes him
underhanded and conniving. He's stolen her, Michael. He's broken into our house
and stolen my baby!"

"Well, she's his baby, too. And I don't think he
had to break into the house to take her; there were so many maids and workmen
milling about all day—"

"Michael!" Summer ground her teeth together
as the urge to scream became paramount again. "It doesn't matter
how
she was taken. I've got to go
and get her back without anyone finding out she was ever missing in the first
place."

"Oh. Yes, I see. Winifred would have fits,
wouldn't he? But how do you know where she is? How do you know where Captain
Wade has taken her?"

"He told me he was leaving Six Man Bay on the
midnight tides. If I hurry I can reach the
Chimera
before he sails and . . . and.
. ."

"And steal her back! We'll take the ship by storm
and steal her back!"

"We
won't be doing any such thing.
You have to stay here."

"What?"

"Someone has to stay here," she insisted,
"to make sure no one comes into the nursery until I get back."

"Oh, gosh," he said and was genuinely
crushed.

"You won't be missing any fun, believe me. Now,
do you know where Father keeps the keys to his gun chest?"

The hazel eyes popped wider than before. "You're
going to shoot Captain Wade?"

"No, of course not—not unless I have to. But I
might need a pistol to get on board."

"Well, yes, I know where the keys are."

"Can you get them?"

"I could. But why don't I just get you a gun from
my room?"

Summer was taken aback. "What on earth are you
doing with a gun in your room?"

"Two of them actually. Father's old dueling
pistols. He gave them to me years ago."

"Do they work?"

"Well enough to shoot squirrels from my window. I
never actually hit any, though—ouch!" He jerked his arm back as she
pinched him again. "All right, I said I would get them for you. Do
you
know how to shoot?"

"No," she admitted.

He was silent a moment. "There's really nothing
to it. I suppose I could show you what to do and have them all loaded. All you
have to remember is not to shoot your foot off. Come on, we'll do it in my
room."

An hour later Summer was seated in the back of the
small carriage, cloaked and hooded beyond recognition. The two fully loaded
dueling pistols nestled in their velvet-lined case were clutched with trembling
earnest on her lap. She left the curtains open, needing the wind against her
face to help keep her thoughts cool and rational.

The road to Speightstown was full of jarring memories.
How long ago had she ridden it to find a doctor unfamiliar with her face and
position? Before that, the
Vigilant
had docked to put Michael and her ashore. Would the
Chimera
be there now? Would the
Caledonia
have prevented Wade from
leaving Bridgetown, and if so, had Bennett boarded the
Chimera?
Had he already found Sarah and
arrested Morgan for kidnapping . . .?

"Hurry," she urged the driver silently,
"hurry, hurry, hurry. The
Chimera
has to be where he promised, she has to be."

The main harbor of Speightstown was behind them, and
she could see the dark shimmer of Six Man Bay where it started to curve out from
the land. But there were no ships at anchor! She could not see anything larger
than a fishing ketch!

No! There she was! Just as Morgan had promised. The
Chimera
was moored to the dock, her
sails reefed, her gangway lowered and waiting patiently.

Summer reached forward and slid open the trap to the
driver's box. "Stop here. I don't want to go too close."

The coachman grunted a reply and pulled up on the
reins. He thought the mistress's request an odd one, but he knew better than to
ask questions.

"Wait here," Summer ordered crisply,
stepping down from the coach. She had removed one of the pistols from the case
and held it tucked beneath the folds of her cape. Two were not necessary. If
she missed with the first shot, she would not have the nerve to fire again.

She hurried along the side of the road, covering the
last few hundred yards in the shadows. Luck was with her, and she passed no one
on the way although she could hear a rowdy cheer coming from a tavern set
further back on the road. She veered off the lane and ran down to the docks,
pausing behind a large stack of crates to catch her breath.

There was a guard standing at the gangway, casually
leaning on the
Chimera's
bulwark. He was hunched over, studying something
intently in his hands.
...
no
...
he was whittling! It was Thorny!

Summer nearly called out to him in her relief. Then
she remembered that he was probably stationed there on Wade's command. Were
there others? Was Morgan expecting trouble?

She searched the length of the dock but could see no
other shadows. Everything was quiet. It did not look as if he expected to sail
within the hour. And there was no one else with Thorny on the deck.

Summer took a deep breath and walked boldly out onto
the wharf, walking straight to the gangway, straight up to the deck level.
Thorny's gristled head jerked up, and his eyes screwed to slits when he saw who
it was.

"W-a-all now, if n it ain't the governess. What
brings ye owt ter the Kameery this late of a night?"

"I want to see Captain Wade."

"Eh? Cap'n don't take ter visitors, n'owt even
when they's—"

Summer raised the gun out of the folds of her cloak.
"You will stand aside, Mr. Thorntree, or I swear I shall blow a hole in
your belly large enough for a parade of visitors to march through."

Thorny's jaw sagged open. He gaped at the brass and
cherrywood dueling pistol, then at the pale, determined face. "I 'opes ye
knows 'ow ter use that."

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Where is he?"
she demanded and cocked the
pistol the way Michael had shown her.

"In 'is cabin, in 'is cabin! Goin' over the
charts."

"Will you stand aside please?"

"Aye, aye . . . movin' . . ."
 
He crabbed backward and pressed himself
against the rail.

Summer followed the quarterdeck to the stern and
entered the gloomy hatchway leading down to Morgan Wade's cabin. Behind her she
heard a shout and a mutter of voices.

Let them be concerned, she thought savagely. I will
indeed shoot if I have to. He has my baby. He has my baby!

The cabin door was shut. The corridor was dank and
musty, flooding her senses with memories, but she pushed them all aside and
walked purposefully toward the sliver of lamplight. She did not stop to knock.
She wrenched the latch and shoved the door wide, aiming the pistol where she
saw him leaning over his desk. Wade looked up as the door slammed open. He
reached instinctively for his own pistol lying on top of his charts.

"Don't do it," she cautioned. "This gun
is primed and loaded, and at this range I doubt very much if even I would
miss."

Morgan's hand froze. He straightened slowly to his
full height, and the expression on his face darkened.

"This is a hell of a way to come aboard my
ship," he said quietly.

"Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The blue eyes flicked to the gun. Summer inched it
higher until it was pointing dead center of the massive chest.

"I will pull this trigger, Captain Wade,"
she promised. "I do not want to do it, and I am frightened to death to do
it, but I will. . . and if you refuse to answer me, I shall aim to kill you. I
will only ask one more time: Where is my Sarah?"

"Safe."

"Take me to her."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

The hand holding the gun shook noticeably. "What
did you say?"

Wade's eyes flicked again, this time past her
shoulder. "Not until you put the gun down and calm yourself. Right at the
moment you're in no condition to see anyone, much less my daughter."

"I want my baby," she cried, and the tears
welled in her eyes.

"Then put the gun down," he commanded gently.
"Or use it. Whichever you decide, you'd best do it quickly before Mr.
Roarke takes it in his mind to decide for you. He's standing right behind you,
if you'd care to look."

The breath left her lungs on a sob. She began to lower
the heavy weapon, to turn to face this new threat, when her finger trembled too
hard against the trigger. The sound of the gunshot roared in her ears, followed
instantly by a crash and splintering of wood. Her hand was numb after the
excruciating jolt, but she felt the gun being wrenched from her fingers. She
covered her mouth and began screaming, keeping her eyes tightly shut against
the horror she anticipated seeing. She was pulled forward by rough hands and
shaken so hard her head snapped to and fro. It was Morgan holding her. He was
alive, and there was as much alarm in his eyes as there was anger.