Midnight Mistress (36 page)

Her thoughts jarred to a halt as she surveyed the area hidden behind the wall of grain sacks. Rifles. Cannon barrels lying alongside pyramids stacks of balls. Kegs of gunpowder. Crates of cartridges. Guns, bayonets, and ordnance by the hundredfold. It was a valley of death that stretched almost from one end of the ship to another.

“C-Connor,” she cried weakly. “Con—”

“I see it,” he said, appearing at her side. “God’s teeth. There’s enough here to arm a fort for a month.”

“And kill a thousand Englishmen,” she whispered hoarsely. “We must get back to the longboat and—”

“That will not be necessary.”

A figure stepped out from behind the sacks. Juliana stiffened, but her fright turned to relief the moment she saw who it was. “Thank heaven you are here. Grenville has been using the Line—”

“It was not Grenville,” the man said.

Connor pulled on her arm, his gaze locked to the man’s. “Juliana, get behind me.”

“Why? And of course it is Grenville. He is the only one who could have arranged a shipment like this—Connor, why are you so pale?”

“I know that voice,” he said, never taking his eyes off the man.

“Well, of course.” Juliana turned back to the man. “What has happened to your accent?”

“I am devilishly afwaid he affected it, my deawr. Just as I affected my lisp,” Lord Renquist said as he came from behind the sacks, flanked by two massive tars. “Regretted missing Grenville’s send-off tonight, but nothing to be done about it. When the Admiral calls, I jump to it. Especially when there is a lady involved.”

Juliana hardly listened. She was staring at the man who could have easily arranged this cargo but whom she’d never suspected because of his unassuming appearance and caring advice. She’d let a viper into her doors and given him all the power he needed to work his traitorous schemes against her king and country. Because she’d trusted him. Because he’d been her father’s solicitor. Because he’d been her friend.

The man known as the Admiral, Silas McGregor.

The boat shifted and the lantern swung in Juliana’s hand, casting blades of light across the faces of the men in front of her. “How could you? You cared about the Marquis Line. You cared about
me
.”

“And I
do
, my dear,” McGregor said. “Transport has become a dreadful trouble to me of late—with new regulations, stricter security, and young, sharp-eyed customs officials. When I learned through my law firm of your father’s plan to leave his shipping concern to a green girl, it was an opportunity I could not ignore. His death was easily arranged.”

“My … father.” Juliana’s voice cracked as she realized the full extent of the evil plot that surrounded her. Only Connor’s steadying hand on her arm kept her from sinking to her knees.

“Regrettable,” McGregor agreed. “But necessary. I hope you know me well enough to know that I am not a cruel man. It was simply business. If Mrs. Jolly had not so obligingly arranged for me to join your firm, rest assured that I should
have found some other method of entering into it. ’Twas an opportunity I could not allow to let pass. It was little risk for—”

“For a dependable return,” Juliana muttered, recalling the solicitor’s long-ago adage to her. In his mind he was nothing more than an ordinary businessman—except that he traded in death and deception rather than salt and sugar. That very ordinariness made him all the more chilling. “You—
monster
!”

Amazingly, McGregor looked affronted. “Now that is uncalled-for. I was never so rude to you. In fact, I was quite impressed by your business sense, so much so that I feared at times you might find me or Renquist out. He was my contact in the Admiralty, you know. Has been for years. And you proved to be a great deal more resilient than either of us anticipated. When I had my man Sikes stir up the captains against you, I expected you to faint like a dove. Likewise, when the work at the line became so grueling, I expected you to hand more of the responsibility to me. Instead, you were a credit to the line, and to my tutelage.”

McGregor’s gaze skimmed to Connor. “You, my boy, are a … disappointment to me. I was pleased when Juliana’s affection for you kept her off balance. And I had hoped to put you in charge of my operation when I retired. Instead, you betrayed me most grievously.”

Connor grimaced. “And I’m all broken up about it.”

McGregor’s eyes narrowed. “Enjoy your defiance, boy. It won’t last. In a short while you will be begging to die, just like all the others who were foolish enough to try to cross me. You may think that you have destroyed my operation, but I can rebuild it—I always do. But neither of you will live to see it.”

“No!” Connor stepped between Juliana and the men and gripped her arm. “I am the one who betrayed you, not her. Let her go. In any case, she is only a girl. No one wall listen to her. Surely you—”

His words were cut short by a commotion near the ladder. Another hulking seaman came down the rope steps and tossed down the flailing Meg Evans, followed by the limp form of Raoul.

“Meg!” Juliana cried.

“I am all right,” Meg answered as she knelt beside Raoul’s unconscious body. “But Mr. St. Juste … Raoul … he is badly wounded.”

“Next time he will think twice before he crosses swords with me,” Lord Renquist commented as he took out his snuffbox and applied a pinch to his hand. “Hardly a sporting match.”

Juliana felt Connor’s fingers tighten on her arm. She saw something flare in his eyes—something she did not like.

“You are right,” Connor said, his charming smile returning like a full force gale. “St. Juste is no match for your skill. But I am. I’ve bested dozens of men, and every man jack of them was better than a tulip like you—”

“Connor!” Juliana cried. “Renquist is one of the finest swordsmen in all England.”

“Finest coward, I’d say. I won’t be killed by this dandy’s too-soft hands. Not afraid to challenge an amateur, but terrified to face a proficient swordsman.”

“Enough!” Renquist stalked forward, his face livid. “Under those gentleman’s clothes you are nothing but the wharf rat you always were, and you need a lesson in how to speak to your betters. Someone get him a sword.”

“Renquist, don’t be an ass,” McGregor said calmly as he took out his watch. “I wanted this hold secured before the crew returns. We haven’t the time for silly games—”

“This is no game. ’Tis a matter of honor,” the lord cried as he stripped off his elegant coat. “This low-born cur is no match for a gentleman. A fight to the death it is.”

“Suits me fine,” Connor replied as he shrugged out of his laborer’s jacket.

McGregor glanced at his watch again, and shrugged. “Oh, very well, Renquist. Have your sport. But I’ve work to do topside.” He glanced once more at his watch, then turned to the rope ladder. “I will return in a quarter of an hour. See that this business is dispatched by then. And Renquist, do be sure to clean up the mess. Blood tends to distress the customs officers.”

Juliana watched as a chalk circle was drawn on the deck, and the sailors lined the perimeter like gawkers at a prizefight, sizing up the odds. Unfortunately, Juliana had already done so. Renquist was fit and well fed. Connor had been dodging both the Admiral and the law for months. Despite his skill, he was on the edge of exhaustion.

“Connor, don’t do this,” Juliana pleaded as she came to his side. “Renquist will cut you to ribbons.”

“Hell, I’m dead anyway,” Connor replied as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and studied his opponent. “God’s teeth, who’d have thought those fancy coats hid muscles like tha—” Connor stopped musing, as if recalling who was listening. Feigning confidence, he chucked her under the chin the way he used to when they were children. “Don’t worry. I can best him. Meanwhile,” he said as his voice dropped to a whisper, “you and Meg make for the ladder. If I distract the guards long enough, you might be able to slip out.”

“Not without you,” Juliana gripped his arm, fighting down the panic in her voice.

He gazed at her, his eyes saying more than words ever could. “You must try to escape. For yourself, for me … and our baby.”

Their baby Yes, of course she had to try, for their child’s sake. She spoke, trying to sound bold, but her voice came out in a whisper. “I shall go on, for our child’s sake. But we need you. Both of us. You must not die.”

His mouth ticked up in a ghost of his trademark cockiness. “Still ordering me around, are you, Princess?”

She reached up and traced his scar, knowing that a lifetime would never be enough to say all the things she wanted to say to him. But they hadn’t a lifetime. They hadn’t even a moment. Before her next breath, Connor was pulled from her arms and pushed into the center of the chalk circle, to face the confident, cruel-eyed Renquist.

It was a lousy place for a fight. The ship pitched and rolled with the rising tide, and the lanterns hung near the circle’s edge swayed so badly they nearly made him seasick. Most of all, it was in a hold—a dark, close hold that reminded him too much of the
Absalom
. Memories swirled though his mind, making him every bit as nauseated as the shifting light. And at the center of it all was Renquist, stalking the circle like a sleek, well-fed panther, his haughty eyes looking down at Connor as if he were not human at all, just a mongrel dog that had to be destroyed. Wharf rat. Bastard. Dockside garbage.
Nothing
.

But he wasn’t nothing. Not to Juliana. Unable to resist, his gaze strayed to where she and Meg cradled Raoul’s unconscious form. Her face was white with fear, but she held her chin high and glanced meaningfully at the nearby rope ladder. She even gave him the wisp of an encouraging smile. Her love had given him a nobility far beyond that of blood or birth. In her eyes he was her shining, noble knight, her hero—

Renquist lunged.

Connor twisted. Luck rather than skill made the blade pass through his shirt, missing his chest by an inch. Juliana gasped. He spared a second to give her a jaunty smile, then turned back to Renquist. “You appear to have missed, m’lord.”

“A lucky turn. But luck is no match for blood and breeding.”

“Tell me, how much
blood and breeding
does it take to sell out your country?”

“Shut your mouth. You know nothing of my reasons.”

“Yes, but I can guess. High-stakes wagering. Fancy carriages. A few opera dancers to maintain in the expected style. ’Tis an old story. One might even say—
common
.”

Renquist lunged again. Connor parried the blade and spun around, delivering a quick hit to the lord’s sword arm. It was not deep, but it was enough to draw blood. Renquist backed away, looking stunned. “No one has ever drawn first blood on me.”

“Yes, well, I’m full of surprises,” Connor growled as he raised his sword.
“En garde.”

The fight began in earnest. Steel clashed on steel, again and again until the hold rang with the sound. The two men attacked and parried, lunged and feinted. For endless minutes neither gained an advantage, but as the seconds ticked by Connor felt the strength of his thrusts ebbing, while Renquist’s seemed to grow stronger. He glanced at the women, and saw them edging closer to the stairs. But their way was still blocked by one of the sailors.
More time. I need more time
.

They came together, swords locked at the hilt in a move that brought them nose to nose.

“You cannot win,” Renquist sneered. “But you’ve fought well—give up now and I promise you a quick death.”

“Tempting offer,” Connor scoffed. “I’ll hold out for a better one.”

Renquist brought down his sword, glancing his opponent’s shoulder. Connor winced at the pain, but his smile never wavered. With his good arm he gripped Renquist’s sword hand and deftly twisted it behind him. Then he brought the stunned lord against his chest, his sword at the nobleman’s throat.

With the blade at his neck, Renquist began to tremble. “Please, do not kill me.”

“I won’t—if you order the guards to let the women pass.”

Renquist’s trembling grew stronger. “I cannot. The Admiral will kill me.”

Connor brought the blade closer to the noble’s throat and breathed into his ear, “And I’ll kill you if you don’t. So which will it be, my fine lord?”

Renquist swallowed. “Yes. I promise. Anything.” He signaled to the two remaining guards. “You men. I’ll pay you twice what the Admiral is giving you. Let the women pa—”

A roar like thunder split the air. Renquist went limp, his shoulder blossoming with a bright crimson stain. Shocked, Connor let him slide to the ground. McGregor stepped out of the shadows, flanked by his guards. “I was afraid of something like this,” he said as he handed the empty pistol to a guard and received another. “I always suspected you would betray me, Renquist. Your honor was all for show.”

“I … wasn’t,” the lord said as he held his bleeding shoulder. “I would never—”

“Oh, be still. I left you alive so that the captain could finish the job. Though he paid me well to conceal the indiscretion from his peers, Renquist is the lord who seduced your sister.”

“What?” Connor turned and saw the terror in Renquist’s eyes. There could be no doubt. This cowardly dog was the man who had cruelly used and beaten his young sister. He twisted the sword that he still held in his hand, giving it better purchase. It would be easy to cut the helpless man’s throat, satisfying the revenge that had burned in his blood every moment of the months he spent on the
Absalom
, and the long years he’d spent in disgrace and despair.
So very easy
.