Bound by the Heart (49 page)

"Invite them aboard, Jamie," Wade nodded and
shrugged into the clean shirt Michael had fetched from his cabin.

Bennett Winfield stood inside the main entry port, the
plumes of his bicorne rifling smartly in the breeze. His face was without
expression; his hands were held at ease behind his back. One booted foot was
poised slightly ahead of the other, hinting broadly of impatience and disdain.
The pale blue eyes raked the length and breadth of the
Chimera,
settling on the faces of the
sweaty gunners, noting damages, types of shot, formation of crews—then lifting
to examine the condition of the sail and lines, skimming over the men braced
high in the yards holding muskets at the ready. Lastly he noted the
Chimera
's
captain striding across the
quarterdeck, as battered and bruised as his ship, yet seemingly as impervious
to defeat.

"You have done a remarkable job of holding
together," Winfield murmured when Morgan stopped in front of him.
"Two battles in as many days . . . Decatur will be overjoyed."

"My personal dealings have nothing to do with
Captain Decatur . . . however, he has been known on occasion to smile for
less."

Bennett looked away. "I understand my wife is
still on board. I should like to see her—alone, if you don't mind."

"That will depend a great deal on whether she
wishes to see you or not," Morgan said, crossing his arms over his chest,
"and it definitely will not be alone."

"The penalty for kidnapping is severe,
Wade."

Morgan's smile was deceiving. "I hardly think you
are in a position to cite my crimes . . . Winfield."

"Nevertheless, I should like to see her. To
assure myself she is still alive and well and to offer her the opportunity of
returning to the
Caledonia."

Wade's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think she
would want to go?"

"What makes you believe she would choose to die
on board this ship?"

Morgan studied the arrogant upper-crust veneer for a
moment, then called quietly over his shoulder, "Mr. Cambridge?"

Michael, who had been keeping himself behind Morgan so
as not to draw attention to his presence on the
Chimera,
stiffened at the sound of his
name and moved forward. "Aye, sir?"

"Would you see if your sister would care to join
us in my cabin? Tell her Commodore Winfield 'requests' it."

Michael looked up at Wade and whispered, "Does
she have to?"

The captain noticed the spark of anger in Winfield's
eyes, and his smile returned. "Not if she doesn't want to, lad.
Gentlemen:—shall
we conduct our business in more comfort? Mr.
Monday, will you join us. . . . Mr. Phillips, I'll want to know if anything on
that ship moves."

"Aye, sir!"

Once inside the brightly lit
aftercabin, Wade indicated seats for the Englishmen while he crossed over to
his desk and settled into the leather chair. He took a cigar from the humidor
and handed the tin to Mr. Monday to pass to the officers. The cigars were lit,
brandy was offered and accepted, and Wade leaned back wondering at the air of
complacency of the commodore.

.Without further preamble, Bennett
Winfield spoke. "I believe it has become apparent, Wade, that we have the
destruction of your ships within our grasp."

Morgan's teeth appeared in a white
slash and clamped down on the cigar. "I was under the impression it was
the other way around."

Winfield looked amused. "Come
now, Wade. You really don't think you or your ships are in any shape to
continue the battle, do you? I've seen the condition of your deck. I've come
aboard in good faith to offer amiable terms of surrender. End it now while you
still have a crew able to take advantage of His Majesty's generosity."

"I sampled your Majesty's generosity
once before, and it didn't leave the sweetest taste in my mouth. As to my crew,
I imagine they are in about the same condition as yours. My gunners estimate at
least a third of your cannon are exhausted—so much for your fancy
improvements—and you've barely enough sail aloft to hold her steady."

"We'll be steady enough to
finish you, Wade, and your pirate friend."

Wade exhaled a thin stream of
smoke. "There is another alternative, you know." "I'm listening."

"It's a little old-fashioned,
but we'd save a hell of a lot of innocent lives. Just the two of us, Winfield.
Any method you choose."

The commodore's gaze locked with
Wade's. He, Bennett, was an expert swordsman, and his reputation as a marksman
had earned the respect of his peers. He'd participated in four duels in the
past, all to his credit. It would indeed be a pleasure to feel the blade of his
sword pierce into Wade's flesh, to kill him slowly so that he might savor the
memory for years to come . . . but then Wade would not
have forwarded the suggestion
if he was not accomplished in his own right, and to lose now, when the
Caledonia
was all but assured of victory
. . . "Oh, I think not, Captain. I should not want to rob my men of the
pleasure."

The door to the cabin opened suddenly, and Summer
stood there, her pale face surrounded by the wisps of hair that had worked
loose from the long shiny braid. She was dressed in trousers and a shirt,
having found a skirt to be a nuisance and impractical. Her hands had been
scrubbed hastily clean, but there was blood on her clothing and spatters on the
incongruously dainty green satin slippers.

Bennett's officers stood instantly. The commodore rose
leisurely and let his gaze move slowly down her body. "Summer. Thank God
you are safe."

"Bennett," she murmured. "Gentlemen . .
. please sit down." She glanced nervously toward Morgan. "You wanted
to see me?"

Wade propped his boots on the corner of his desk and
watched the play of expressions on the commodore's face. "Your husband
made the request. He seems to think you are. being held here against your
will."

Bennett turned angrily to his two officers. "Wait
on deck for me."

The men looked surprised, but they complied with a
hasty shuffle of chairs and boots and indirect glances at Summer and Morgan
Wade. She stood to one side of the door as they exited, then obeyed Wade's
command to shut it behind them.

"Madam," Bennett said, "I have come to
take you back to the
Caledonia.
The child also, and your brother if he has a desire to
come with us."

Summer resisted the temptation to run to Morgan.
Instead she walked slowly to a chair, quite proud of herself that she could do
it without her knees buckling.

"No, thank you, Bennett. We are happy where we
are."

"Happy? You call this"—he indicated the
state of her clothing with a smirk—"cause to celebrate?"

"I am content, Bennett," she repeated
quietly. "Possibly for the first time in my life."

His mouth turned down. "I recall a woman seated
in an English garden who once told me much the same thing with much the same
degree of conviction. Then, of course, it was parties and jewels and happy
flirtations that contented her, and she did not want to leave it all behind for
what she referred to as some humid little island. If this is another whim of
yours, Summer, I guarantee the novelty will be a brief one."

Summer held her anger in check. "I am not the
same woman you met in England, Bennett. I have grown up a great deal since
then."

"And you have accepted a great many more
responsibilities as an adult—including the vows you took on your wedding day.
No one forced you into accepting them at the time. No one forced you to become
my wife."

."I was never your wife, Bennett. I was a
convenience. You said yourself it was a marriage of greed and ambition."

"I also told you I had true feelings of affection
for you, madam," he said tautly. "Affections you chose not to return,
despite my efforts."

Summer's gray eyes narrowed. "Efforts? Are you
referring to the threats or the blackmail or the disgusting—" She bit off
the words and clenched her hands tightly on her lap. "I'm sorry, Bennett.
I prefer better things for myself and my baby."

"And you think you can find them on a doomed ship
in the middle of the Caribbean?"

This time she did look at Morgan. "I already
have."

A flush crept up beneath the commodore's tan.
"Your wish to see me humiliated is excusable to a certain degree, but do
you mean to stand by and see your father's career and reputation destroyed?
They will be, you know. As soon as word reaches his enemies in political
circles that his daughter has become a traitor and has run away with her Yankee
lover."

"My father has been governor for twelve years. In
all that time he never once placed anyone else's concerns above his own. His
choice to come to these islands was made so quickly and so selfishly that he
could not delay the move from England one month so that my mother could be
safely delivered of the child she was carrying. My marriage was arranged with
his career in mind, and no doubt Michael's future was slated to aggrandize it
as well. Fortunately I have come to my senses in time to realize that someone
else's choices do not necessarily have to rule my own. Father is a survivor, he
always has been. He will find a way to survive this, I'm sure."

"Whereas you will die on board this ship,"
Bennett said harshly.

"But by my decision, no one else's."

"And the child? And your brother? Aren't you
playing God a little yourself?"

Summer's temper flared. "If
I
have nothing to go home to,
Michael has even less, thanks to you and Father. You have managed to cheat him
of his birthright. You have beaten him and berated him, and I do not believe
for a moment you would treat any of us any differently if we did return with
you. Your only reason for making this profound gesture is, as far as I can
guess, to save appearances. You're not worried about my life or Sarah's life or
Michael's future . . . and certainly not Father's career! You're worried about
your own!"

Bennett stared at her for a long moment before he sat
back in the chair and laughed unexpectedly. It was a smooth, calculated laugh,
and she was familiar enough with the sound of it to feel the hairs prickle upright
along the back of her neck.

"Indeed I am, madam. Furthermore, I intend to do
everything in my power to see that you and your lover add to it immensely
today. I have extended my offers to you both. I strongly recommend you
reconsider your answers before I return to the
Caledonia.
I will allow you your lives,
the shell of one ship, and an escort back to Bridgetown as my prisoners."

Morgan Wade removed the cigar from between his teeth
and flicked the ash unhurriedly from the tip. "And if I tell you you can
take your offers and go straight to hell with them?"

"You will gain a moment's verbal gratification
and nothing more," Winfield said evenly.

"I'll settle for that."

The commodore rose and tucked his bicorne under his
arm. "You have heard my final offer. There will be no others
forthcoming."

"And you are hearing my final warning: Get off my
ship while you are still able to."

The pale blue eyes were like chips of ice as Bennett
gave Summer and Morgan each a parting glance. He pushed the chair out of his
way and strode to the door, yanking it wide as he went out into the
companionway. Wade crooked his head to Mr. Monday to follow, then lowered his
boots from the corner of his desk and crushed out the cigar before he went to
Summer.

He grasped her shoulders gently, and it did not
require much urging to have her lean gratefully against him.

"You are quite a woman, you know. If I had the
time . . ."

"You don't," she said, forcing a timid smile.
"But keep that thought warm, sir. Perhaps it will speed you about your
business."

He grinned, kissing her hard and fast before he left
the cabin. Summer remained standing alone in the middle of the room, needing
several minutes to steady her knees enough to carry her back to her work below.