Pleasures of a Tempted Lady (36 page)

However, if one of Caversham’s six-pounders were to destroy one or both of his paddlewheels, then it would be a different story altogether. If that happened, they’d be in trouble. Will ordered the sails readied, just in case they needed to make a rapid switch from steam to wind power.

In just under half an hour from Will’s order to pursue, Caversham’s ship made its first attack, launching a volley of cannon fire that fell well to larboard of the
Endeavor
’s bow. Instantly, the enemy ship turned slightly, making the correction that would give them better aim.

Will roared the order to fire, and a split-second later, the
Endeavor
’s two starboard cannons fired with deafening twin booms. One of the shots fell off Caversham’s bow, but the other grazed the gunwale, showering the deck with wood splinters.

Undaunted, Caversham’s ship glided forward. Its starboard guns fired again. This time, there was a giant exploding noise and a bone-shaking shudder as one of the cannonballs hit the
Endeavor
.

“Damage report?” Will shouted as men scrambled around him.

“Paddlewheel’s been hit, sir,” a midshipman cried out to him.

Will turned toward the starboard paddlewheel. Water spewed up over the deck, wood splinters flew into the air, and the screech of bolts wrenching free assaulted his ears.

“Shall I shut down the boiler, sir?” Halliday shouted.

Will glanced at Caversham’s ship, heard another volley of shots, then looked up at his sails. The
Endeavor
was beginning to turn toward starboard as that paddlewheel slowed and the larboard paddlewheel kept thrusting forward.

He made several quick calculations. If they shut down the engine, they’d give Caversham a huge advantage in terms of maneuverability.

“No,” he said to Halliday. “Full steam ahead. Release the spanker sheets. Unfurl the foresails.”

“Sir—”

He turned away and shouted toward the helm. “Turn hard to starboard.”

“Aye, sir! Hard to starboard!” the helmsman repeated without hesitation, though surely he saw where that would put them.

Will glanced back at Halliday and saw the man gaping at him, bug-eyed.

“Brace yourself for the impact, Halliday,” he said grimly. “Because we’re going to cleave that damned ship in two.”

Meg came awake with a painful jolt as her body was thrown forward onto the floor of the cabin. She clutched
one of the posts nailed to the floor holding the bed in place and held on, her head pounding as she found her bearings.

She’d been dreaming about pirates. About Caversham.

Through the years, she’d witnessed the atrocities he’d committed against honest ships and the people aboard them. Most of the time when Caversham attacked, the captains and crews knew that they’d been beaten and surrendered without bloodshed. But in the first year after she’d been taken, Caversham had boarded a ship, and to everyone’s surprise, the captain refused to surrender. Caversham had laughed, called him an idiot, and then took his first mate aside and promised him his life if he told him what the captain’s most beloved possession in the world was.

“His son,” the mate had wheezed. “Lad’s on board—he serves as cabin boy.”

Caversham had called his crew, including Meg and Sarah, onto the deck and had made them watch as he denounced the mate as a traitor to his captain and then had proceeded to slit his throat.

Then he’d commanded his men to find the cabin boy, and there, on the deck of the other captain’s ship with the man watching, struggling against his bonds, Caversham had slit the boy’s throat, too.

Meg had never forgotten the look in the father’s eyes, that expression of sheer horror, of such intense pain. She dreamed about that ship—the
Mary Ann—
and its captain, first mate, and cabin boy often.

She’d been dreaming about them now. It was the beginning of the engagement, that gleam in Caversham’s eye when he was contemplating the kind of prize he’d take, and the loud, low boom of cannons and the sharp retort of firing guns.

After a moment of confusion as the dream faded, of the panic of not knowing where she was and what was happening, it all came flooding back.

Battle
. Will had pursued Caversham. Obviously, he’d found him.

Men were shouting, their footsteps heavy as they ran past Will’s door.

The ship wasn’t moving in any way that made sense—not forward or with the swell of the waves, but rather like some giant fiend had grabbed it and was attempting to pull it apart, plank by plank. Metal screamed and wood splintered as the ship groaned.

She stumbled to her feet, needing to know what had happened, whether Will and Thomas and Jake were safe. She was naked, but her chemise, now only slightly damp, was hanging on a peg. Holding on to a post for support, she clumsily yanked the garment on over her head, then pulled one of the blankets from the bed and wrapped it around her like a large woolen shawl.

She opened the door to chaos. She pressed herself against the door frame to stay clear of the men running. Gunshots cracked all around. Thick, black smoke covered everything—so thick she couldn’t even see to the side of the ship. The smoke scalded her throat and burned her nostrils and eyes. Loud shouts, pandemonium, but there was a strange sort of order to it all, with men calling out orders and obeying them.

Her first thought was that Caversham had sunk them, but that couldn’t be true. Will had made her a promise, and she knew that he wouldn’t break it.

“Miss Donovan?” A form of a sailor appeared through the smoke.

Shading her eyes, trying to make sense of the chaos and identify the man, she grabbed at his sleeve. “What’s happening?”

“You ought to get back inside, miss. It’s danger—”

Gunshots rang out again, whizzing by her ear and cracking wood behind her. Reflexively, she dropped to the deck. Smoke billowed, but when she looked up, she saw that the sailor had crouched down over her, as if to protect her from any flying debris. “Are we sinking?” she gasped at him.

His smile was grim through a face streaked black with soot, only his bloodshot blue eyes gleaming through the smoke. “Nay. But the enemy ship is.”

He squinted down at her, then knelt so they were eye to eye. “Och, I’m sorry, miss. Terrible thing to wake to, I imagine. Here now, let’s go back to the captain’s quarters.”

“But what’s happened?” she asked, her voice breaking with desperation.

“We’ve rammed the enemy ship, and it’s goin’ down—”

“Sinking!” She surged to her feet, then stumbled as the ship made that strange shuddering, jerking movement again.

The man rose, caught her arm, and steadied her. “Aye, miss. We broke her right down her middle.”

“Jake is there, Jake is on the ship. He was tied down—gagged… oh, God. I have to go…”

She struggled to break away, but he held on to her with a firm grip. “Now that’d be a foolhardy thing to do, given as the ship’s going down,” the man said, his voice gentle but stern.

She glared at him, knowing she was half-naked, her hair tangled and wild, and that she probably looked like
she’d gone completely mad. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice now steely. “He’s my son. My
son
. I have to find him.”

“Nay, miss,” the man said, his voice still gentle. “Never worry. The captain has already boarded. He’ll find the boy.”

“What?” Meg cried. Losing Jake was unthinkable. Losing Jake
and
Will was… impossible.

“He’ll be fetching the lad and bringing him to you.”

Groaning softly, Meg stilled. She closed her eyes.

“Cap’n Langley’s as determined a fellow as I’ve ever seen. You’ve got to trust him, miss.”

Her knees went weak, and the man steadied her as she sank back down to the deck planks. “I trust him,” she whispered. “I do.”

Crouching on deck in the midst of bedlam, she found peace in her trust as she waited for her son and her beloved to return to her.

Chapter Twenty-two

C
haos reigned on deck, but Will heard Halliday and his other officers calling out orders, and he knew they’d take care of the
Endeavor
. Will had another mission: Caversham’s ship was going down fast, and he had to find Jake.

From the starboard deck of the
Endeavor
, he leaped onto the shattered stern of Caversham’s ship and rushed toward the poop deck, where the captain’s quarters would be located. If Jake wasn’t there, Caversham would most likely be near, and Caversham would know where Jake was.

He rushed toward the first narrow door, and as he laid his hand on the handle, a cold voice spoke from behind him. “Captain Langley, I presume. I suppose I have you to thank for destroying my ship.”

Slowly, moving his hand from the door handle to the pistol holstered at his hip, Will turned and took a few steps forward.

“I suppose you do,” he said, coming face to face with
Jacob Caversham for the first time. The ship lurched, making a cracking noise like the wrenching of nails being torn from wood. It was coming apart. He needed to get to Jake, and soon.

He narrowed his eyes at Caversham, his hand still on his pistol. “Where’s the boy?”

Caversham raised one thin black eyebrow into an arched peak. “The… boy? One would think a child would be the least of your worries, good captain, since this ship—
my
ship—is preparing to go down and likely to take you with it.”

“Not if I can help it,” Will said.

Caversham gave him a watery smile. “You won’t be able to, if I’ve anything to say about it.”

The ship lurched again, and now the stern listed at a treacherous angle. God… there wasn’t enough time for idle chitchat—certainly not enough time to stand here listening to Caversham’s tripe.

Will stared at him for another second. This was the man who’d kept Meg from him for the past eight years. This was the man who’d tried to crush her spirit, taken away her trust and her hopes for the future.

Without any further hesitation, he drew his gun, aimed it at Caversham, and shot.

At the same time, Caversham dove at him. The bullet whizzed over the man’s head and struck the mizzenmast, burying itself into the thick oak.

Caversham’s weight barreled into Will’s middle, and they both went crashing to the deck. Caversham rolled to the top, grabbing Will’s coat in one hand, pummeling his fists into Will’s face, his chest.

They tumbled about, grunting and cursing, the dull
sounds of connecting blows, of smacking flesh, renting the air along with the clashes and shouts of the men running and fighting around them.

Caversham pinned Will beneath him. Over and over he punched him. Blood flowed over Will’s face. He struggled, but his movements turned sluggish. Then his arms dropped, limp, at his sides. His hand searched desperately for his other pistol, but it was pinned beneath Caversham’s thigh.

On his knees straddling Will, Caversham kept hitting him, cursing, sweating, his face livid with exertion and rage. Then he wrapped his long, aristocratic fingers around Will’s neck and squeezed.

Harsh choking noises emerged from Will’s throat as he clawed at the bastard’s arm, trying to get free. But Caversham was apparently made of steel. Heat flushed through Will’s face as Caversham cut off all air, all blood flow between his neck and the rest of his body.

Vaguely, he heard a thin voice coming from behind him. “You let go of Captain Will! Let go of him! I hate you! I hate you, I say!”

Caversham’s head snapped up, and he looked up toward the door of his quarters.

Will took advantage of the short distraction. His fist shot out and smashed into the side of Caversham’s face, connecting with a sickening crack. Caversham crumpled over him but recovered quickly, jumping to his feet.

Will lurched up, grabbing the man’s legs and making him stumble back as, with another explosive splintering sound, the angle of the deck increased by several degrees. Will wiped dribbling blood from his eyes with the back of his sleeve, then grabbed a nearby rope lashed to a deck cleat to keep himself from sliding into the sea.

He couldn’t take the time to look at Jake, but sent a quick prayer that the boy had found something to hold on to. Around them, a few men dangled on ropes while others slid screaming down the deck, and splashes sounded as men and parts of the ship crashed into the churning ocean below.

Farther down the deck, Caversham was scrabbling like a crab, grabbing on to whatever he could find to lift and drag himself closer to Will.

Will raised his leg and smashed his boot into Caversham’s already damaged and bleeding face. The man’s nose shattered beneath Will’s heel. With one hand clutching the gunwale, Caversham flopped over, howling in pain.

With a quick glance at Jake—who was sitting in what looked like a chair that was being kept from sliding down the deck by the door frame of the captain’s quarters—Will unholstered his other pistol. Aiming it at Caversham, he carefully shimmied down the rope, which was now dangling from the cleat. When he reached Caversham, he pointed the weapon at the man’s chest. Caversham’s eyes shone blue behind the mask of blood covering his face. Blood dripped from a gash near his eye and gushed from his flattened nose.

“Surrender, damn you,” Will hissed at him. “For God’s sake, I don’t want to shoot you in front of the boy.”

Desperate eyes moved from the pistol pointing at his chest to Will’s face. Caversham spat a mouthful of blood onto the slanted deck.

“Never… surrender…” he gasped, his voice a sickly nasal whine, nothing like the cocky, sneering confidence he’d approached Will with.

Clenching his teeth, Will cocked the pistol.

Caversham closed his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, Will thought he was waiting for the inevitable shot. But then he opened his eyes. His expression had softened from the coldly murderous glare to a gaze of defeat, his pupils dilated and his brows drawn together, causing deep crevices to appear between them.

In a voice so quiet, no one but Will could have heard, he said, “Don’t want… to… go to gallows. Let me go. Down with my ship, as a captain should.”