Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) (21 page)

She turned to see her husband at the end of the road being over-powered by Sir Harry’s men.

“Ah, the dutiful husband has made an appearance, I see,” Sir Harry said, smirking. “How considerate of him.”

“No!” Isobel cried.

One of the pirates punched Beckett in the face and Isobel saw his head snap back. He staggered, but stayed on his feet, even broke free to land a punch of his own in the man’s face. But then the others had him and the bellowing pirate struck Beckett over and over in the stomach.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Isobel begged.

“Don’t hurt him?” Sir Harry replied. “But my dear, I intend to kill him.”

Isobel felt the color drain from her face and forced down the nausea that whirled in her stomach. She looked at Sir Harry, beseeching him with her eyes. All this time, she’d thought she had the courage to face this man when the moment came. But seeing Beckett being beaten made her courage drain away like blood from a wound. “Please… I’ll do whatever you say.”

“You’ll do whatever I say anyway,” Sir Harry said, looking quite unconcerned. “And when I do kill him, you will watch every moment of it. Bring him here, Fergus!”

Isobel stared helplessly as the men dragged Beckett toward them. He was hunched over, obviously in pain from the blows to his stomach, and Isobel had to struggle to remain in control as they approached. One of the other pirates held Isobel while Sir Harry stepped away from her.

The pirate named Fergus grabbed Beckett’s hair and wrenched his head back. Isobel’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry.

Beckett’s eye was already swelling, and blood dripped from his mouth.

He glared at Sir Harry and growled, “If you touch her, I’ll—”

Sir Harry smashed his fist into Beckett’s face, then hit him in the ribs. Isobel screamed as her husband finally crumpled to the ground. Sir Harry bent down toward Beckett and put his hand to his ear.

“Sorry—you’ll what, old chap? I didn’t quite catch that,” Sir Harry said, lifting Beckett’s head, and seeing no response, let it drop. “The man’s at a loss for words, it seems. Oh, and just so you know, I
do
plan on touching her.”

“I’ll kill you first!” Isobel spat, struggling hopelessly against the pirate who held her. She stared down at Beckett’s lifeless form and felt her heart break.

“Still my little spitfire, I see,” Sir Harry said, smirking. “Just as I like you.”

Isobel lunged at him with an unknown strength, suddenly breaking free of her captor’s grasp. She dug her fingernails into Sir Harry’s face as they both toppled to the ground. Isobel yelled in rage, thrashing and clawing at him like a wildcat. Sir Harry let out a howl as Isobel drew blood.

Sir Harry struggled for breath as the men pried Isobel off him. He stood up unsteadily, trying to straighten his disheveled clothing. Reaching up to touch his face, he stared with disbelief at the blood that stained his fingers.

“I hope I’ve left you a nice scar, you loathsome blackguard,” Isobel said.

“You will pay for that, as well,” he warned. “Very dearly indeed.”

“As you will pay for your crimes,” she replied.

He glared at her, saying, “We’ll see about that.”

Motioning to the men, Sir Harry led them down the road and onto another path. Soon they reached a secluded cove that Isobel didn’t recognize. A large rowboat waited for them in the turquoise water, its front pulled up onto the sand like the nose of a sleeping dog.

The pirates dumped Beckett into the end of the boat as if he were no more important than a sack of potatoes. Two of them lifted Isobel in and she decided not to struggle. There was no question now of attempting to escape. Beckett was unconscious and she had to stay with him. Sir Harry climbed into the boat and the last pirate pushed them off, taking his place at one of the oars.

Isobel twisted around to watch Beckett, who lay unconscious at the back of the boat. The sight made her heart tighten with wretched pain.

She watched the shoreline recede and suddenly felt she was going to be sick.

This couldn’t be happening!

Now, Beckett’s life was in danger because of her. Perhaps there was a way to change Sir Harry’s mind. Perhaps she could convince him that Beckett should live. She would do anything—submit to any vulgarity that Sir Harry wished to inflict upon her—if it would save her husband’s life.

They neared the pirate ship, and Isobel felt the hopelessness of their fate like a stone sinking in her gut. She closed her eyes and prayed.

The rowboat came alongside the ship and a rope ladder dropped down next to them. The pirates clambered up the ladder, as agile and quick as monkeys. One of them, the big red-haired man, hoisted Beckett over his shoulder and climbed up easily despite the extra weight.

Then it was Isobel’s turn. She stood, and when Sir Harry tried to play the gallant gentleman and assist her, she shook him off, wishing her eyes were daggers. Apparently it had some effect, because Sir Harry allowed her to climb up by herself.

When Isobel reached the top of the rope ladder, the red-haired pirate pulled her aboard the ship with thick arms and set her down on the deck.

Her eyes searched for Beckett and she caught sight of him being dragged down below. She whirled around to face Sir Harry, asking desperately, “Where are they taking him?”

“To the brig, my dear,” he replied. “Don’t worry, no harm will come to your husband until I am good and ready to inflict it.”

“Please, leave him out of this,” she begged. “It’s me you want, and now you have me. You don’t need Beckett. Let him go.”

“Ah, but I don’t have you, yet, precious one,” Sir Harry pointed out. “I cannot make you my wife while your husband still lives. So I intend to see that you are widowed before this voyage is over. Then we shall retire to Hampton Park, and live out our lives in perfect happiness.”

“That is what you think these twisted plans will bring you—happiness?” Isobel asked, incredulous. “How can a man without a heart ever be happy?”

“Make no mistake,” Sir Harry answered, “I have one, and it beats only for you, Isobel. You’ll understand that one day.”

As she stared at Sir Harry in disgust, another man approached them. He possessed a fierceness and an effortless air of command, which made Isobel assume he was the captain. Though he only looked to be in his forties, his hair was white as snow. He wore it tied back in a blood red ribbon.

He held a cat curled in one arm and Isobel recognized the animal at once—Captain Black!

But how had the cat come to be here?

“You must be Lady Ravenwood,” the man said.

“Yes, I am the Countess of Ravenwood,” she replied.

“I am Captain Worthington” he said, “and this is my ship,
the Revenge
.”

“I’ve heard of you,” she replied. “Forgive me, Captain, if I am less than delighted about our meeting under such circumstances. And would you please explain how you have come to be in possession of my cat, sir?”

“Firstly, Madam,” Worthington answered, “he is
my
cat, as I’m sure you know. Be assured, I am most grateful to you for taking care of him. When I paid a visit to Ravenwood Hall earlier today, I found him living like a king.”

Isobel’s stomach knotted in fear as she thought of Josephine and the others at Ravenwood Hall. “Was anyone hurt while you were absconding with Captain Black?” she demanded.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head as if the idea were ludicrous. “They did not even know that I was there.”

He seemed to notice Sir Harry then and regarded his scratched face with raised eyebrows. “Had a little trouble did you?” He asked, then turned back to Isobel. “I applaud your efforts, madam.”

Sir Harry stood taller, eyes narrowing as he said, “A man must not be afraid to shed a little blood in order to get what he wants, Captain.”

“Especially if what he wants is what shed the blood in the first place, eh?” Worthington observed.

“It does seem that my little kitten has claws,” Sir Harry said, grabbing Isobel’s arm and pulling her next to him. “But they shall soon be trimmed. It is nothing I cannot handle.”

“Undoubtedly,” Worthington said with a humorless smile. “We have calm seas, Sir Harry. I’m sure you’ll find the seasickness that plagued you on the voyage over will be less of a nuisance—for the time being.”

Sir Harry snarled, “I told you, Captain, it was the food.”

“Ah, yes,” Worthington replied. “So you did.”

Isobel felt somehow reassured by this exchange. It seemed that Captain Worthington had no love for Sir Harry, either.

“I would like to go below now, Captain,” Sir Harry said. “As you can see, I’m in need of a change of clothes. I shall leave Lady Ravenwood in your care for a few moments, if you think you can manage her?”

He whispered in Isobel’s ear, “Behave now, my darling. I’m sure Captain Worthington will not be so indulgent of your antics as I.”

She stared straight ahead until he released her arm, then watched with relief as Sir Harry disappeared below.

Worthington turned to Isobel, saying calmly, “Lady Ravenwood, you strike me as an intelligent young woman, so let us come to an understanding. I am a businessman. I work for profit, nothing more. If—let’s say—a sack of coffee beans fell overboard, no one on this ship would bother to fish it out of the water. You are a piece of cargo that I am being paid to transport. My crew and I have as little interest in you as we would in a sack of coffee beans.”

He adjusted the cat in his arms and continued, “So if at any time, you are considering trying your luck with the sharks, be warned, no one from my ship will come to your rescue. Of course, if Sir Harry wants to play the hero, he is welcome to it.”

“It would almost be worth it to have Sir Harry gobbled by sharks, too,” Isobel replied. “Oh, what does it matter? The truth is, I would welcome such a fate, compared to the one that awaits me.”

“With Lennox?” he asked.

“He will murder my husband, and force me to be his bride,” Isobel said, bitterly. “I have already seen him commit murder, once. He is a madman.”

“Then I am sorry for you,” the captain replied.

“Are you?” she demanded. “Yet you will allow him to do this? Have you no conscience?”

“You ask a pirate if he has a conscience, madam?” he said, coolly. “Then I truly am sorry for you. Sir Harry has promised me a substantial sum for your passage back to England. It is none of my business what he does with his goods when he arrives.”

“I’ll wager this isn’t the first time you’ve transported human cargo, is it, Captain?” she challenged.

“No, it isn’t,” he replied, unfazed. “And it won’t be the last.”

“I’m not surprised. You likely did so under Captain Black.” She stepped closer to the pirate and reached out to stroke the cat in his arms. “Captain Mayfield told me much about you and your former captain—wild stories of obeah, and strange ceremonies of transfiguration. Josephine, our housekeeper at Ravenwood Hall also told me many stories of her own. Of course, they must be whimsy. We all know that such transformations are not possible. But if they were… Ah, well, I’m sure Josephine was just spinning stories. Don’t you think?”

She saw something flicker in Captain Worthington’s eyes, then quickly disappear. Worthington held the cat closer and regarded Isobel with a thoughtful expression. “I would like to hear these stories, Lady Ravenwood. Captain Black is quite legendary in these islands. And he is just a silly cat, after all.”

Captain Black meowed sharply and looked up at Worthington, batting a paw at the man’s chin.

“Silly, indeed,” Isobel muttered.

Worthington looked unamused, saying, “We shall continue the conversation over dinner. And you must tell me more of these ‘folk-tales’ regarding Captain Black.”

Isobel nodded, wondering how she could use the stories about Captain Black to her advantage. If there was a way, she would find it. Captain Black might help her and Beckett, yet.

“Ah, Sir Harry has returned,” Worthington said. “I shall leave you under his care. I shall see you both tonight at my table for dinner. Until then, Lady Ravenwood.”

He strode across the deck with Captain Black peeking at her over his shoulder.

Surely, having Captain Black here was a good omen. She’d seen the look in Worthington’s eyes. Had it been one of fear? The man was a pirate and the captain of this ship. What could he possibly be afraid of?

But he’d given her a weapon, however small. And hadn’t David slain Goliath with a rock the size of an egg?

It was obvious that Worthington thought she knew something rather important about Captain Black and the mystery surrounding his fate. She had to find a way to use the stories to her advantage.

And she had to find a way to see Beckett—to save Beckett.

Or she would die trying.

Chapter 20

Beckett moaned as he struggled to move.

Ugh. Why was the room rocking so? What was that smell? And why did his entire body hurt?

He opened his eyes.

Dear Lord, I’ve gone blind…

He opened and closed them a few times, his eyes adjusting to the dark. Then he remembered.