Never Trust a Pirate (38 page)

The passageways were deserted as he made his way up from the bowels of the ship, clinging desperately to the ropes strung along the sides. He was almost at the top, ready to head out into the storm
itself, when he realized that Madeleine would be alone. And this time they may have forgotten to take the key.

He fell twice making his way to the captain’s quarters in the bow of the ship. Seawater had poured in through the hatch, and it was sloshing around his ankles, making things even more treacherous. It was dark down there, very little light coming from the portholes, and it wasn’t until he was almost outside the door that he saw the key was gone. His fury was so powerful it temporarily washed away his nausea. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to die by his hand, maybe she was simply going to go down with the ship, and it was up to him to survive. He had to make certain she was still trapped in there before he made his way topside.

He reached out and rattled the doorknob. To his momentary astonishment the door swung open, then slammed shut again as the ship lurched. “Who’s there?” he heard her voice call out. “Luca? Is that you? Are you all right?”

Rufus chuckled to himself. This was the way it was supposed to be. He pushed the door open again, and waded into the cabin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

H
ELL WAS SUPPOSED TO
be flames and heat, but Luca knew better. Hell was howling winds and waves taller than a church spire and rain that lashed as hard as a whip. Hell was noise and pain, blindness, water everywhere, and no knowledge of where the next blow was coming from—the sea or the ship itself.

The mizzenmast was cracked, the crossways spar listing directly over the deck. Sailors were working, lashed safely, and Billy was wrestling with the wheel, a savage grin on his face. Billy had always laughed in the face of death.

So had he. But not today. Today Luca wanted to live with a fierceness he’d never known before. He wanted to make it through this bloody storm and come out the other side, limp his wounded ship to shore for repairs, and go downstairs and bring Maddy up into the sunshine. He’d take her off this blasted ship, to the first hotel or inn he could find, depending on where they washed up, and they wouldn’t emerge for days, damn it.

If they made it through this he was going to marry her. He recognized that fact with a grim certainty. There was nothing like looking into the face of death to realize what mattered. Whether it was bad
for her or not, he could no longer worry about that. He needed her. He needed her in his bed, he needed her to fight with, he needed to be around her and know she was safe. If no one had come to hurt her, if she were still pretending to be a maid in his household, he’d have gone in at night and stolen her away like his ancestors had done. She was his, and nobody else’s, and he finally understood that fact with the certainty that impending doom made impossible to deny.

If they lived long enough he was going to have to convince her of that fact. She could do so much better than a half-breed sailor. But he no longer cared. She was his, and he’d kill before he let her go.

“How’s it looking?” he shouted to Billy, making his voice heard over the devil’s own wind. “Think the mizzen will go?”

“Aye,” Billy shouted back. His face was covered with sheets of water, his grizzled gray hair plastered to his scalp. “The question is, where will she land? If she lands just right and the spar crashes through the sides then we’re going down.”

“No, we’re not,” Luca said. “When she starts to go you’ll jerk the wheel in the right direction and it’ll fall into the ocean. I’ve seen you do it half a dozen times. I have faith in you.”

Billy snorted, then coughed as seawater went up his nose. “Sooner or later our luck is going to run out.”

“Sooner or later,” Luca agreed. “But not today. We’ll…” His voice stopped, as he saw something emerge from the hatch he’d closed so carefully to keep more water from filling the lower decks. He blinked against the blinding rain, for a moment terrified that Maddy had ignored his orders and followed him up on deck. One good wave and she’d be overboard, and there’d be no way to save her.

But the figure was too bulky, though he couldn’t make it out. And then a gust of wind blew the rain in another direction, and for a moment he was able to focus. It was a sailor, one he didn’t recognize, and he had a struggling Maddy over his shoulder, and for the first time in his life Luca felt pure terror.

“Shite!” Billy cursed beside him. “Who the bloody hell is that?”

Everything inside him had coalesced into an icy, murderous rage. “Someone’s got Maddy.”

“Jayzus,” Billy said. “Who? And why?”

“Concentrate on steering,” Luca shouted over the noise of the storm, his voice grim. “I’ll go for her.”

He unfastened the rope he’d tied around his waist. Whoever was wrestling Maddy up onto the deck wasn’t used to storms; he went down, sliding across the deck and slamming against the side, never releasing his grip on Maddy. She was fighting him, but the man had to have a grip of iron, and as Luca tried to make his way toward them he saw the man twist Maddy’s arm behind her back in a cruel jerk that brought her to her knees. They were directly beneath the cracked mast, and he tried to shout out a warning, but the wind took his voice and whirled it away, and he watched the struggle as if from a great distance as he fought his way toward them.

The sea was a formidable enemy when she chose to be. More than once he’d lain, lashed to his bunk during storms like these, and he’d heard the voices of the drowned, a jumble of words swirling around his head. He’d seen visions, terrifying ones, beautiful ones, but right then he couldn’t be sure of what he saw. Because if he blinked it looked as if Gwendolyn’s tame friend, Rufus Brown, had Maddy in a death grip and was trying to haul her up and over the side.

She’d been right and he hadn’t believed her. But how in hell had the man gotten aboard ship, and where had he been the last two days?

Luca shouted at them, but the wind took his words and whirled them away. Who the hell was the man, and why was he trying to kill Maddy?

Luca tried to move fast, but the water running across the deck was treacherous, and he went down, landing on his knees, as he saw Brown manage to haul Maddy up. In another moment he’d have her over the side, and it wouldn’t matter that Luca would beat Brown
to death with his bare hands. Maddy would be gone, taken by the other woman he loved, the sea.

He wasn’t going to reach them in time. He heard the second crack overhead, as the mizzenmast began to topple, directly toward the area of the deck where Maddy was fighting for her life. Luca managed to scramble to his feet, but they were too far away, and the wind was blowing so hard he could barely move. It was pure impulse, but impulse had saved his life before. He managed a running leap against the wind, then dropped down and slid across the length of the deck, just as the mast began to fall, the deadly spar heading directly for Maddy and Brown.

There was no controlling his momentum, and he didn’t care. He crashed into the struggling couple, the force of his impact wrenching Maddy away. The ship lurched, and he wrapped his arms around her as they slid backwards, away from Brown, who stood frozen in disbelief as the heavy mast crashed downwards, and the spar hit him squarely across the head. A moment later he was gone, with half the rail and a good portion of the mast.

Luca and Maddy had ended up against the pilothouse, and he held her, ducking his own head against the blowing rain. He’d heard the man’s scream as he went overboard, and while the sound had brought him a vicious satisfaction he hoped Maddy hadn’t heard it. It was the kind of sound that could haunt your dreams the first time you heard it.

He didn’t dare move. With the railing gone it would be far too easy for the two of them to be swept after Brown, and he wasn’t going to risk it. Every now and then the wind shifted and he could see Billy at the helm, fighting with everything he had inside him. The ship wasn’t listing, and he could only hope the mast and spar had taken no more than the railing and a stowaway intent on murder, but he wasn’t taking any chances. If there were a hole in the side the sailors would be doing their damnedest to bail and to patch it, but in this
kind of storm it would be a lost cause. Right then there was nothing he could do but hold onto Maddy and wait to see if they survived.

The battle was endless. With her wet body plastered up against his, they slowly began to warm each other as they huddled against the rain. It was too chaotic to try to speak, and indeed, he didn’t have the words right then. All he could do was hold her shaking body and try to shield her. And ignore the fact that, in the face of death, he was getting hard simply by being close to her.

He ducked his head down beside her, his mouth against her temple. He pushed the rain-matted hair away and whispered against the wet salt of her skin. “I’m not going to let you die.”

She’d been coughing on and off. She must have swallowed some seawater at some point during her struggle, and he could barely make out the raw scratchiness of her voice. “You and what army?”

And he laughed. In the face of death he laughed, holding the woman he loved, the woman who never gave up without a fight. He hugged her close, folding her against him, and her hands were gripping his wet shirt, her head was buried against his shoulder, and he could feel her lips against him. Warm lips against his water-soaked skin. It was enough.

He barely noticed when the storm began to ebb. The rain was softer now, the rise and fall of the ship less violent, and the howl of the wind began to quiet. He didn’t want to move from their protected spot on the hard deck; he didn’t want to do anything but hold her.

“Storm’s over, boy-o.” Billy loomed overhead, and he turned to look at him, silhouetted against the angry sky, water still sluicing over him. “We made it through.”

Maddy moved in his arms, her grip on his shirt loosening, but he held her tightly. “Who’s got the helm?”

“Jeffries, who else? Only man I trust. Get up now. The girl needs dry clothes, and we’re in sight of land.”

He couldn’t hesitate any longer. He released her, and sure enough she immediately scuttled away, sitting a fair distance from him, her face pale but determined. He resisted the need to haul her back, pulling himself up. The pitch and sway of the ship was definitely steadier. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere off the south coast of England or I miss my guess,” Billy said. “The storm blew us all the way back. I’d been aiming for Normandy.”

He reached down to her, but she ignored him, and he wondered if she was in shock. He leaned down and scooped her up, and she had the sense not to battle him in the still impressive wind.

She was shivering, and he was damned cold himself. He turned to look at Billy. “You need me?”

Billy shook his head. “It’ll be easy enough to limp into port, even with one mast gone. Go warm up the lass before she turns into an icicle and I’ll let you know when we dock.”

“Any idea where along the coast?”

“I’m heading straight for the London docks. Best shipbuilders south of Liverpool there, and this fine lady is going to need some repairs. Who the hell was it who went over the side?”

“Gwendolyn’s friend. Maddy was right after all,” he said briefly, starting toward the hatch, Maddy tucked tightly in his arms.

Billy whistled. “Now that’s a dangerously jealous woman.”

Luca managed a laugh. He still couldn’t believe how close he’d come to losing her. “I doubt that’s why. I’m not worth killing over. Right now I’ve got better things to do than worry about a danger that’s ended up at the bottom of the ocean.”

Billy gave a meaningful look to the woman in his arms. “I’d say you do, boy-o. It should be smooth sailing from here on.” As if in answer the ship gave a lurch, and Billy called an expressively obscene insult over his shoulder to the man at the helm.

Luca didn’t answer. It was never going to be smooth sailing with the contrary woman in his arms. He was just going to have to figure out how to deal with her. Because he was damned if he was letting her go.