Revenge of the Siren Song (Rogues of Sea and Sky Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter 7

Into the Trap

Liam became gradually aware of the emptiness in the bed, but rather than coming awake, he rolled over to doze a while longer. When he did finally awaken, Grace was gone. He wasn’t alarmed until he saw that although she was not in the room, all of her belongings still were. He quickly tugged his clothes back on and strapped his cutlass to his hip. Liam flew out of the house in search of the one thing most precious to him, the woman who had claimed his soul.

* * *

The dull unending ache throbbing through her skull brought Grace slowly back to her senses. From the rough feel of splinters against her back and legs, she realized that she was lying not in a bed, but on hard wooden planks. She opened her eyes but the darkness did not dissipate. A moment of quiet but futile struggle brought her the knowledge that she was blindfolded and bound. The subtle familiar rocking motion was the final clue; she was a captive, being held aboard a ship.

Grace remained very still. She did not want to give away her conscious condition, if she was being observed. She fought the urge to shift to a more comfortable position and tried to absorb as much as she could of her surroundings.

The moldering smells, lack of air moving across her skin, and the continued gentle rocking told her that she was below decks on a ship of some size. Odds were, she was in the ship's brig. Along with the bustling noises coming faintly from the decks above, she could hear the steady foot falls of a sentry nearby and knew she was being guarded. The question was, whose prisoner was she?

As Grace began to sift through the list of would-be captors, additional footfalls came, presumably from someone coming down the stairs from the deck above. The guard stopped and addressed his new companion.

“Who goes there? No one is to be near the prisoner.”

“I wouldn't be down here if the captain hadn't sent me, you oaf,” came the reply. “Any sign of life, yet?”

“She hasn't moved an inch since we brought her down here.”

“If she doesn't stir soon, captain will send the surgeon down to be sure you didn't knock her brains loose.”

“I barely tapped her skull,” the guard retorted.

“Just shout up the hatch as soon as she starts coming round.”

Then the feet retreated back up the wooden treads and the guard went back to pacing the deck.

Neither of the voices were familiar to Grace, so she still didn't know who was behind her kidnapping. As she listened to the guard's pacing, she determined he was the only one watching her. She timed her movements to test her bonds when he was walking away from her, and quickly found that while she wasn’t chained or shackled, the ropes holding her were quite sufficient to continue doing so. She lay there for a moment or two longer, but she was unable to find a good reason to continue the ruse and decided to find a little physical comfort; she sat up. The guard was standing over her in a flash.

“I see that I did not bash your brains out as feared. How fare you, Captain O'Malley?”

“I am bound and blindfolded, held against my will, my head throbs, and I am as parched as a desert. I fare quite well under the circumstances.”

“The captain warned me that your tongue was as dangerous as any dagger.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. Then a sharp piercing whistle assailed her ears, and footsteps quickly rushed down the stairs.

* * *

Liam checked the harbor first, certain that it would be the most likely place to find her during the day. The Dragon's first mate assured him that Captain O'Malley had not been aboard at all since their arrival. None of the dock workers had seen anyone answering to Grace's description. The old harbor master was a favorite of the fair captain's, and he had not seen her in over a fortnight.

Next Liam stopped in to see Mademoiselle Lisette. Surely Grace would not be gallivanting around Port Royal in naught but a night dress.

“Captain O'Shea, what brings you around to my shop at this hour of the morning?” Lisette purred.

“I was wondering if Captain O'Malley had been round to see you today,” he said quietly.

“No, I have not seen her, nor do I expect to,” she said, her smile wavering just a touch. “Did she mention any intent to come in today?”

“No, she said nothing of the sort to me. I merely wanted to catch up with her earlier than planned and thought she might drop by here,” Lam tried to cover his growing concern.

“Is there any message you would like me to relay should I see her?”

“No message. I'm sure I'll see her before you, anyway.”

Liam was running out of ideas. Why would Grace leave so suddenly? The circumstances felt all wrong to Liam. The more he inquired after her, the more alarmed he became. He even sent a messenger boy to Stapleton to see if she had been seen in the governor's office. All he received was a tersely worded note regarding how busy a man of Stapleton's station was, and that there was no time to go chasing every errant wench in town.

Without the slightest inkling of where else Grace might be likely to go, Liam wandered the town until his feet bore him to the door of the Black Swan Inn. The tavern keeper was a trusted friend and always ready with a tankard of grog and a bit of sage advice. He had already checked everywhere else, might as well check here, he thought as he pushed his way into the darkened interior.

“Why if it isn't the wily Captain O'Shea,” a jolly voice called from behind the counter. “I was wondering when ye might be darkening my door.”

“And why would you be expecting me at all, Phineas, you old salt?”

“When has the
Black Dragon
ever been in port that ye didn't stop by?”

“Aye.”

“But I have more reason than that, lad. Sit down and have a drink,” Phineas offered.

Liam eyed the barkeep suspiciously. “What are you up to, you old sea dog?”

Phineas filled a tankard for Liam and motioned to a nearby table.

“I thought you might be coming round because this young whelp of a sailor showed up with a note for you early this morning. I figured it was one of your own crew, lad,” Phineas explained.

“I just left my own ship, Phin, and no one said anything of leaving a note for me. Let's see it.”

Phineas waddled back to his bar to retrieve the mysterious missive. Liam had drained nearly half the tankard by the time Phin returned with a little scrap of paper, so small it could only be folded once. All interest in the rest of his grog fled as Liam opened the note and instantly recognized the thin flowing hand.

“Dear Captain O'Shea, our mutual friend, Captain O'Malley, has kindly accepted my invitation to join me aboard the
Ocean’s Whore
along with a recent companion of yours. I just hope for your sake that nothing ill befalls Grace and Pippa while they sail under my colors.”

It was signed simply, “ES.” Lizzie. Somehow she'd uncovered the plot and had gotten to Grace.

Daylight suddenly flooded the tavern as someone came bounding through the front door.

“Phineas! Barkeep! Ahoy!”

“Aye lad, what be your business?”

“Have you seen Captain O'Shea today?”

“Finish blinking the sunbeams out of your eyes, boy. He's sitting right here.”

Both O'Shea and Phineas recognized the
Black Dragon
's cabin boy straight away. The lad was rubbing his eyes, desperately trying to encourage them to adjust to the dim light inside. He sat down at the end of the table and pushed another piece of paper toward Liam.

“The British Commodore has been informed of Captain Shireland's activities and intends to sail within the hour.”

This note was signed “John Stapleton.”

“Phin, thank you for the bit o' rum, but a situation demands my immediate attention.”

Before Phineas could respond, Liam grabbed the cabin boy and was out the door.

* * *

The guard removed Grace's blindfold just as two burly sailors brought Pippa down the stairs. Grace remained stoic, not wanting to betray recognition of her own spy.

“The Captain figures you two have plenty to talk about,” the guard growled.

They bound the poor lass next to Grace and then departed to the deck above. Grace just sat there, brooding quietly. The
Ocean’s Whore
; she realized that she was caught right in the middle of her own trap just as it was about to snap shut. Pippa began to sniffle and cry.

“What?” Grace's whisper had a severe edge to it.

“I'm so sorry, Captain,” Pippa hiccupped between sobs. “I had no idea that Captain Shireland was using some of your people.”

“I see,” Grace tried to soothe. “What's done is done. There's nothing you could have done differently.”

“But I feel as though I've utterly failed everyone. I haven't even the heart left to avenge my dear Thomas.” Whatever else she said was too bound up in her sobs to understand.

By the time Pippa had calmed, it was too late for more questions. The guard had come thudding back down the stairs.

“Captain wishes to see you in her quarters.”

Chapter 8

Revenge Is Not So Sweet

Grace rose stiffly and waited for the burly sailor to release her bonds. Despite a full day of inactivity, Grace felt weary. The lack of a meal was contributing to her fatigue. With a sigh, she heaved herself up the stairs onto the main deck of the
Ocean’s Whore
.

The
Whore
was a smaller ship than the
Siren Song
, but in the right hands every bit as dangerous. What she lacked in size and firepower, she made up for in speed and maneuverability. Captain Elizabeth Shireland's command of the ship made it as fiercely deadly as any shark in those waters.

Grace's respite in the sweet salt air was brief. No sooner had they come topside, than the guard was leading her back inside again. The Captain's cabin was small and stuffy. Papers and objects littered every surface as if a small child had just been throwing a tantrum. Captain Shireland was pacing back and forth in a dither, paying no heed to what lay in her path.

Grace had never met Lizzie face to face, but there was no doubt in her mind who this ferocious wild woman was. She was just as described: very petite, almost child-like in stature, a full head shorter than Grace. She wore her curly blonde hair closely cropped, and preferred a man's linen shirt and breeches to something more befitting a female. If it were not for the distinctive womanly curves that she made no attempt to hide, she could have been easily mistaken for a young lad who had yet to see 13 years.

Grace stood impassively, waiting for Lizzie to acknowledge her presence.

“Well, well, Captain Grace O'Malley,” Lizzie nearly spat. “We meet at last. I can't tell you how pleased I am that you accepted my invitation to join us aboard the
Whore
.” She bared her teeth in something akin to a smile.

“Invitation indeed,” Grace grumbled as she reached for the tender lump on the back of her skull.

Lizzie's agitation ratcheted several notches. “I wouldn't have had to resort to such forceful means, if you had not put your nose into my affairs.” Her face reddened and she seemed to be shaking with fury as she continued. “You've been so very busy with your clever little plots and schemes. But you pay a bit too well to be informed, and far too many of your little friends are all too eager to wag their tongues for anyone willing to pay the right price.”

Grace opened her mouth to comment, but Lizzie ranted on.

“My new galley wench seemed a bit too friendly with folks no matter where we put in. Imagine my shock to find out she'd been planted aboard my ship as a spy!” She seemed to realize she had begun shouting and took a calming breath and rubbed her chest before she continued. “Aye, it was a fine little trap you'd set, but I've managed to put you right in the middle of it just as it's about to spring.”

Again Grace attempted to comment, but Lizzie's wrath overflowed.

“Why couldn't you leave bloody well alone, Grace?” the little impish woman seethed as she came toe to toe with her.

Grace said nothing, but utter shock overtook her face as she noticed two damp spots spreading across the front of Lizzie's linen shirt. Lizzie stood there glaring Grace down for several moments before she realized what had happened.

She looked down at her chest and all the fury seemed to drain away at once. “Saints and sinners,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed a grimy rag from a pile of linens on her bed. She crossed to the cabin door and put her head out. “Tell Dr. Bone it's time,” she said to someone on the other side. She then dropped herself onto the bed in a heap. “Sit,” she commanded Grace and waved at the chair near a table littered with charts and maps.

Grace sat heavily on the chair, but had no words for the moment. She sat there staring in astonishment across the cabin at Lizzie. All the sudden the spit-fire captain lost her flame and seemed frail and vulnerable.

It was the ship's surgeon, Dr. Bone, who ended the awkward silence. He entered the cabin with a wriggling, cooing bundle for Lizzie. Gently placing the bundle in her lap, he uncovered one end to reveal a sweet tiny head covered in bright golden curls. The cherubic face had the same wide blue eyes as Lizzie.

Grace sat completely mute as she watched Lizzie cradle the baby in her crossed legs and pull up her shirt-tail to nurse the child. All of a sudden, Lizzie’s odd manner of dress made astoundingly practical sense to Grace. Even the most simple and home-spun garments would have hindered this basic of mothering acts. Without a doubt, all of the laces, boning, and layers of even the most common of women’s clothes would have frustrated a mother’s simple desire to feed her child.

Dr. Bone cleared his throat loudly, and redirected Grace’s attention. He had been standing respectfully with his back to his Captain, but she had failed to dismiss him.

“If I may, Captain O’Malley, I’d like to take a closer look at that duck’s egg they left on your head. They were in such a hurry to secure you below that I had but a moment to determine that your skull wasn’t completely split open.”

“Oh, stop your belly-aching, Bone. Obviously she’s not seriously harmed,” Lizzie chided without looking up at him.

Bone refrained from responding and did his best to look only at the lump on the back of Grace’s head and not at Captain Shireland. For several moments he quietly sifted through her hair, making certain there was only the one lump. Once satisfied, he smoothed her hair back into place, and declared, “Indeed it seems you’ve suffered no permanent harm, Mistress O’Malley.”

“Bone, you have such a grasp of the painfully obvious,” Lizzie quipped as she shifted her baby to the other side of her body.

“Carrying on with the obvious, then, do you think that you have made your displeasure with Miss Pippa obvious enough? I need her help with the child, Ma’am.”

“Yes, yes,” she said as she waved him away like a noisome fly. “Go retrieve your little waif.”

Bone wasn’t certain if she wanted him to take the baby, too, so he stood a moment too long.

“Now, Bone! Out. Leave Christopher with me and go. I'll send someone to fetch you if I want you.”

As soon as he'd gone, Lizzie turned her attention back to Grace. “I swear he's awfully thick for a surgeon sometimes.”

Grace had no place to comment on the matter, so she just let the silence hang awkwardly.

Once Christopher had finished his meal, Lizzie propped him on her shoulder and began patting gently upon his back.

“I had this all so brilliantly planned out, once upon a time,” Lizzie said, finally filling the silent void in the room. She seemed tired but peaceful as she continued. “His father and I had parted ways a mere fortnight before I realized I was carrying his child. For a while I carried on as if nothing was different, but the awareness that there was an innocent life I had to care for made me rethink my course. I had to find a way to retire to a safer life.”

“When I first made my agreement with the British, I already had enough money set aside to settle somewhere quiet, or so I thought. What is left of the man that had been raiding the treasure hold still feeds the following gulls.”

She paused as the child gave a small burp and settled to sleep.

“By then the signs of the life in my belly were starting to show, I knew I had but a small window to take risks. At least if they caught me while I was pregnant, they would not hang me. Now that Christopher is passed three months, strong and healthy, there is not a judge that would hesitate to take him from me and put me on the gallows. The
Hercules
was to be my last desperate gambit, Grace.”

The weight of the consequences of her actions settled like a cannon ball in her mind. Grace hadn't put a stop to a double-crossing scallywag, but had sentenced a mother and child to destitution at best and death at worst.

“What of the child's father?” she asked as she began to seek a way to unravel her mess.

“We parted on less than amiable terms, and he sailed off with his crew. Despite my own changing feelings, I doubt the rift between us could be mended. He probably wouldn't trust me long enough to even tell my tale.”

Grace's stomach twisted in knots. Liam's association with Lizzie had ended about a year ago, and on unfriendly terms. The realization that he was likely this child's father made her want to heave over the rails like a sea sick landlubber. She shoved away her emotional response as quickly as it hit her. Her own foolishness be damned, she had to make this right.

Her head spun as she raced through options, rejecting all that came to mind, and constantly clamping down on thoughts of Liam. She wished she had the luxury to be angry with him for toying with her. She wished she could be angry for foolishly believing him again. She growled to herself in frustration.

“What?” Lizzie asked.

“Nothing, just wishing you had a way to escape.”

Now it was Grace's turn to pace the cabin. No wonder Lizzie had been so livid.

“Captain,” someone called from the other side of the door. “The watch has spotted a ship approaching from the south.”

“Let me know as soon as you identify her. It’s the
Black Dragon
, most likely.”

“Damn your black heart, Liam O'Shea,” Grace thought, but managed not to say.

“Let us hope it's the Dragon and not the Navy, at any rate” Lizzie continued.

“A Royal Navy ship is the only thing I'd rather see less than the
Black Dragon
,” muttered Grace. “A pox on both their houses.”

“And here I was certain that Captain O’Shea would throw himself in harm's way for you!” Lizzie taunted.

“The only thing Liam O'Shea is good for is rescuing your sorry soul,” Grace retorted as a plan began to take form in her mind.