Once a Mistress (31 page)

“You are finished, Marcus,” he said. He aimed the pistol at the other man’s heart. “If you step away from Diana right now, you may yet live to walk from this room.”

“So concerned for your whore?” Marcus sneered. “How touching.”

“Move away from her, Marcus.”

“As you will.” Marcus stepped to the side, then yanked Diana in front of him as a human shield. He drew his dagger and held it to her throat. “Go ahead,” he taunted. “Fire.” He rested his chin atop Diana’s head and smirked. “But you might miss and hit your lady love.”

Alex tightened his fingers around the pistol to stop the uncharacteristic trembling. He longed to put a ball in Marcus’s black heart. Then all of them would be free. But he could not risk Diana.
 

He glanced at her. She looked back, wide-eyed with fear, but said nothing. Didn’t cry. Didn’t beg. She simply watched him with complete trust and total love. Her faith in him almost cracked the fragile restraint that held back his uncontrolled emotions.

“Put the pistol on the floor and step back from it,” Marcus instructed. “The sword as well.”

Alex complied. He never took his eyes from his enemy.

“Very good. I had not credited you with such intelligence.”

Anger flared. Alex tamped it down. If he let loose the rage, then none of them would survive this. “Let her go, Marcus, and I will let you live.”

“Brave words from an unarmed man!” Marcus laughed and tightened his arm about Diana’s waist. “I do not take kindly to threats, as dear Peter discovered to his misfortune.”

Alex glanced at Chilton’s body. “He is dead then?”

“Quite.”

“One less neck to stretch on the public gibbet. Morgan will not be pleased. Of course there is still you to entertain the crowd, Marcus.” Alex tried to inject sarcasm into his voice, but all he could think about was the blade at Diana’s throat.

“I have no intention of dancing at the end of a rope, and certainly not for Morgan’s amusement,” Marcus sneered.

“A pity. I had thought to enjoy the sight myself.” Alex took a step forward.

“The only sight you will enjoy is that of your doxy’s demise should you move again.” Marcus lifted Diana’s chin and caressed her bared throat with his blade.

Alex halted. He glanced at Diana. She gave him a tremulous smile. Then her eyes widened in alarm.

A foul stench alerted him to danger. He spun aside just in time to avoid the blade intended for his back. With a sweep of his arm, he sent the dagger flying from his assailant’s fingers.

“Ye’ve the luck of the devil!” Scroggins cursed. He aimed a fist at Alex’s midsection.

Alex blocked the punch and countered with a powerful stroke to the jaw. With nary a blink the wiry seaman came back with a series of vicious blows. Behind him, Alex heard the terrace doors crash open. He kicked Scroggins in the kidneys and whirled to see Marcus drag Diana out of the house.

“Diana!” he roared. Madness shattered his brittle control. Rage flared like a flame.

Scroggins leaped on Alex’s back and locked his arms tightly around his throat. Alex slammed his elbow backwards into the man’s midsection. The henchman lost his grip and fell, but leaped to his feet. Alex turned to face him. He rained blow upon blow upon the seaman, aware that every second brought Marcus closer to a successful escape—with Diana.

A clatter of footsteps echoed in the hall. Morgan burst into the library, followed by Frederick and a patrol of soldiers.

“Ho there, Alex!” Morgan called.

“Morgan!” With a mighty strike, Alex sent Scroggins stumbling backwards. The henchman landed in the arms of Sir Henry Morgan.

“Where is my daughter?” Frederick demanded.

Alex scooped up his sword and pistol. He ran for the doors to the terrace. “With Marcus. But they will not get far.”

Morgan shoved Scroggins into the arms of one of his soldiers. “Wait! We—”

“No time.” Alex slipped through the doors and picked up Marcus’s trail. He would rescue Diana. And then Marcus would die…whatever the cost.

Chapter Twenty

“Blast those scurvy bastards!” Marcus stood on the beach and studied the horizon. “Where the devil are they? I told them to meet me here.”

Diana turned her gaze from the empty sea and looked back up the rocky incline they had just descended. At any moment she expected to see a familiar figure in black appear atop the craggy cliff. She wished she could summon him with sheer force of will. But wishes were as plentiful as the sand that surrounded them. Reality was Marcus’s bruising hold on her arm.

“It seems we must wait. Whatever shall we do with the time?” Marcus turned his attention from the horizon to smirk at her. “What say you we begin the festivities while we await my ship?”

“I say no.”

“Ah, such fire in you, my dear.” Marcus forced her chin up and smiled into her eyes. “You add spice to the feast.”

“Add this to your feast.” She kicked him hard in the shin.

Savagery twisted his expression. “So. You wish to play, do you? So be it.” With his clenched hands, he ripped open her gown to the waist, breaking the laces and tearing the fragile chemise to leer at her bare breasts.

She fought him, cursing him, using every dirty trick her father had taught her. He laughed and jerked her hard against him.

“Resist,” he grated in her ear, his voice gritty with lust. “Scratch me. Bite me. ‘Twill make the conquest so much sweeter.”

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled against him. He squeezed her sensitive breasts. The rough skin of his hands chafed the tender flesh, and he twisted her nipples roughly, sending shards of pain splintering along her nerve endings. His open mouth crushed hers, his teeth digging into the lips she tried to close against him, his tongue finally taking victory and thrusting into her mouth until she could barely breathe. The threat of his hardened sex rubbing against her hip sent new terror streaking through her. Suddenly she was free.

“I shall enjoy breaking you,” he said with a smile. Then he backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling into the sand. “I shall make you forget that coward you spread your legs for.”

Diana sat up. She touched her throbbing mouth, and her fingers came away stained with blood. “You are not half the man he is!”

“Whore!” he snarled. He dropped to his knees beside her. “There are many ways to cause pain, my dear. And I look forward to showing you all of them.” He shoved her skirts upward.

“Marcus!”

The pirate jerked his head up at the shout. He cursed and rose to his feet. Diana looked past him to see Alex scrabbling down the last few feet of the rocky incline that led to the beach. Her heart soared.

“I should have known better than to trust Scroggins to kill him. I shall have to take care of the matter myself.” Marcus drew his sword.

“Alex!” Diana scrambled to her feet, holding the torn edges of her garments together.

“Diana.” He came to her. Cupping her cheek, he slid his dark gaze over her, touching on her ruined clothing and bleeding lip. His jaw tightened. “I love you,” he said softly. “And my one regret is that I didn’t have the chance to wed you.”

“Oh, Alex.” Tears stung her eyes. She laid her hand over his, but he pulled away. Puzzled by his withdrawal, she watched in confusion while he turned to Marcus, every muscle in his body taut. Drawing his sword, he touched the blade to his forehead in mocking salute.

“To the death,” he challenged.

“Aye.” Marcus copied the gesture. “To your death.”

A small, cold smile tugged at Alex’s lips. “Perhaps.”

As if by some unspoken signal, the battle began.

Dear Lord. Alex thought to die this day.

Clutching her bodice closed, Diana moved back from the fray. Steel hissed against steel as the two men advanced and retreated. Tension hummed like a live thing between them. Death was in the air. But whose?

Diana worried her lower lip between her teeth as she watched Alex. Something was wrong. She had seen him combat Marcus before, the day he had rescued her from the
Renegade
. He had laughed then. Smiled. Thoroughly enjoyed the duel as if it were no more than an amusing exercise. But this time he did not laugh. His smiles were cold, calculated and false. This was no entertaining game he played. This time, he was serious.

This time he fought to the death.

She recalled the look in his eyes when he had first seen her ripped clothing and bloody mouth. He had looked murderous. Then an icy mask had slipped into place. She realized as she watched him, as she noticed the tension of his body, the emptiness in his eyes, that he was not in control. Emotion drove him, pain and rage, and that could mean his downfall.

Perhaps she should not have fought Marcus so hard, she thought with sudden panic. Perhaps if she had not caused Marcus to become violent, Alex might not have gone over the edge.

Fear gripped her. Without control, he would make mistakes. And that could mean his death.

Steel clanged. She watched the two men circle, her eyes fixed on Alex as he countered every one of Marcus’s moves. She had noted once before that the two men were evenly matched in their skills. Alex had won the duel that day. But today? She truly dreaded the outcome.

Marcus lunged suddenly and slashed. Alex hissed in pain. Blood welled from a slice in his upper arm.

“First blood to me,” Marcus sneered. “But not nearly enough to suit me.”

Alex pressed his lips together. “First blood,” he agreed. Then he went at Marcus, his blade flashing in the sunlight.

Diana bit back a whimper as the blood slowly soaked Alex’s sleeve. Already he lost his edge. She wanted to cry, rant, vent her emotions. But she dared not distract Alex.

She hugged herself as she watched the two men. The battle swept them up and down the beach, the surf licking at their boots and the sand sticking to them. Alex’s weapon appeared a flashing blur as he attacked and retreated. Marcus thrust. Alex whirled and came around to meet steel with steel. They locked together, sword to sword and shoulder to shoulder.

“I shall enjoy your whore,” Marcus taunted. “Mayhap I shall take her as you slowly bleed to death, that you might enjoy her screams as you breathe your last.”

Alex grew stone-faced. “You will be dead,” he said in a flat voice. Then he shoved Marcus, breaking them apart.

Marcus landed on his back in the sand, his sword falling from his grasp. Alex stumbled backwards but quickly regained his balance. He wiped his arm over his sweaty forehead as his opponent got to his feet.

“Such honor,” Marcus jeered. “I would have finished you off, had our situations been reversed.”

“That is the difference between us, Marcus.”

“Ha!” Marcus eased into a fighting stance, his free hand fisted at his side. “Your precious scruples can keep you company in Hell!” He jerked his hand forward, flinging sand into Alex’s face.

Alex cried out and clawed at his eyes.

Marcus grinned and aimed his sword at Alex’s heart.

“Look out!” Diana screamed.

As the villain followed through on his thrust, Alex dropped to his hands and knees. The blade whished harmlessly over his head, and Marcus tripped over him. With a muffled curse, the pirate tumbled into the sand once more.

Blinking rapidly, Alex struggled to his feet. Marcus rose as well. The two staggered for a moment, the fury of their fight obviously a physical drain on both men. Marcus looked at Alex, his eyes narrowing with pure hate. He lunged.

Alex spun out of the way. Marcus’s blade missed his chest by inches.

“You are damnably hard to kill,” the pirate complained, once more bringing his sword to bear.

“Too much of a challenge?” Tears streamed down Alex’s face from the sand that had irritated his eyes, but Diana could tell as he focused on Marcus that his vision had returned.

“Weep not,” Marcus crooned with a mocking grin. “I promise to kill you quickly.”

Alex gave him a chilly smile. “I promise to just kill you.”

Marcus came at him. The combat escalated into a storm of rapid moves and clashing blades. Neither gave quarter. The surf erased the footprints they made in the wet sand as each strived to gain the upper hand.

The boom of a canon thundered over the roar of the sea. The
Renegade
appeared just off shore, the
Vengeance
hard on her tail. A wisp of smoke trailed from the deck of Alex’s ship.

“How touching,” Marcus taunted. “Your crew shall die with you.”

As he spoke, the
Renegade
fired on the
Vengeance
. Only a sharp maneuver prevented her from being hit broadside. Water sprayed upwards as the cannonball landed in the ocean.

“Perhaps not,” Alex quipped.

Marcus roared with rage and came at him, beginning the battle anew.

“Diana!”

Diana looked up, stunned to see both Maude and Sir Henry Morgan scrabbling down the rocky path to the beach. They were followed by a dozen soldiers from Fort Charles, one of whom pushed a prisoner before him. Limping behind the entourage and still halfway up the slope was her father. She waved, hurrying forward to meet them.

“Maude!”

“Ma bairn!” Maude embraced her with a strength that defied her small stature. “Thank the Lord ye’re safe.” Gray eyes so like Diana’s own widened with shock as the older woman took in Diana’s condition. “What the devil happened tae ye?”

“Marcus,” Diana said.

“Wait until yer father sees this,” Maude predicted darkly. “Ye’re lucky he twisted his ankle on some loose stones and canna see ye from that distance.” Taking a lacy handkerchief from the sleeve of her serviceable gray gown, Maude began to dab at Diana’s lip. “Mayhap we can repair the damage afore he sees ye.”

“‘Twill take more than that,” Morgan interceded, indicating Diana’s torn gown.

Maude snorted. “If you were the gentleman ye claimed tae be, Henry Morgan, ye’d give the lassie yer coat.”

Morgan scowled at Maude, but shed his coat and offered it to Diana.

“Thank you,” she said, shrugging into it. Then she looked for her father. He slowly made his way down the cliff, stopping often to rest his bad ankle. She waved to him. He returned the greeting.

“And when will ye be putting an end tae this foolishness?” Maude demanded of Morgan, indicating the sword fight. “Or did ye even mean tae arrest Marcus tae begin with?”