Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) (27 page)

“For goodness’ sake, Ravenwood,” Sir Harry complained, “at least have the decency to put your head in the noose like a gentleman.”

Something snapped in Isobel, then. White hot anger filled her veins and she shoved Sir Harry as hard as she could, catching him off-guard. He stumbled sideways and fell against one of the heavy cannons, clutching his arm and yowling in pain as he landed on the deck.

She spun around to do more damage, but as she turned, Isobel’s heart leapt at what she saw.

Beckett was breaking free of his captors!

While two of Worthington’s men tried to force his head through the noose, Beckett grabbed one of their daggers. It now flashed before him, glinting in the early morning light as he fought against the remaining guard.

But the tide was turning yet again.

Soon five, then six armed pirates swarmed around Beckett. Isobel gasped as Beckett climbed up the rigging like a monkey, his dagger swishing through the air behind him as the cutthroats clambered after him in pursuit. The clanging of blade on blade rang out from above and made an eerie music for this strange dance.

“Damnation!” Sir Harry growled from beside Isobel, cradling his injured arm as he watched the action high above, along with the rest of those on deck.

Isobel ignored him. Her heart, her entire being was too fixed on the deadly ballet going on above to pay Sir Harry any attention now.

Beckett stopped climbing, desperately fighting off the closest of the pirates. He kicked out and the man went flying off the rigging, falling to the deck below. The pirate landed with a great thud, then lay inert. Another pirate closed in on Beckett and their blades clashed anew.

Then, Beckett ducked to avoid a blow and lost his hold, falling through the air. Isobel screamed as he hit the water.

Isobel ran to the side, joined by the entire crew. Frantically, she scanned the water for sign of him, but saw nothing.

“Beckett! Beckett!” she cried.

A hand grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away, but she fought against it.

“Where is he?” she said desperately. “I can’t see him!”

Worthington’s voice spoke from behind her, and she realized it was his hand that gripped her arm. He peered over the side down into the water.

“He’s gone, my lady,” the captain answered.

“No!” Isobel shook her head, refusing to believe.

“A fall from that height…,” Worthington explained, “he went straight down. Or broke his neck when he hit the water. Your husband is dead.”

“No. I don’t believe it” Isobel said. “I won’t believe it!”

Worthington shook his head. “He is gone, madam.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Sir Harry said, finally. “Though I must say, I am not pleased with the way it went. I wanted to watch Ravenwood dance at the end of that rope. But, as you say, Worthington, dead is dead. Now, we can be married, my dear.”

Isobel, unable to speak, turned and looked out at the deep water that surrounded the boat.

The idea that Beckett was gone—it was too painful to even think about. Instead, she would stare out at the water, looking for a glimpse of him. She would not think about Sir Harry or his diabolical plans.

The truth was, she didn’t care anymore. If Beckett was dead, then so was her heart. Sir Harry could do whatever he wanted to her, and none of it would matter.

But she wouldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t.

She wiped away the tears that stained her face. The thought of losing Beckett forever chilled her so completely, she began to shake, her teeth chattering noisily. She had lost so much already…how could she bear to have lost the only man she would ever love, as well?

Not knowing what else to do, Isobel stared down into the cold blue water and prayed.

Chapter 26

Isobel stood on the deck, watching the pirates preparing to drop anchor. The gulls overhead seemed to be speaking for her as they cried out in a haunting lament to the skies above.

It was fitting music for this day.

The
Revenge
bustled with activity as it prepared to unload both its passengers and its smuggled cargo. It had hidden itself in a secluded cove that would have been dangerous for any other ship to enter. But it was obviously a spot well-known to the pirate crew.

Feeling a presence nearby, Isobel turned to see the cool stare of Captain Worthington regarding her. He held Captain Black in one arm and extended the hand of the other. She made no move to take it.

He raised a brow, acknowledging the snub. “Though you may not believe it, I wish you well, Lady Ravenwood,” he said. “You would have made a splendid pirate, I think. If you are ever in need of employment, perhaps I could find a place for you on my ship.”

“Is that intended as a compliment?” she asked.

“It was, indeed,” Worthington replied.

“If you truly want me as a member of your crew, throw Sir Harry overboard,” Isobel said. “Then I’ll be happy to join you.”

Worthington chuckled, saying, “A noble attempt, my lady, but double-crossing my paying customers would have a negative effect on my business.”

“Ah, yes, your business,” she said. “Forgive me if I see my husband’s life as rather more important than any financial transaction could be.”

He stroked Captain Black’s fur, and replied, “I am a pirate, after all. It’s what I do. And though I know circumstances have made it difficult for us to be friends at the moment, I admire your indomitable spirit. You have the survival instincts of a fox, Lady Ravenwood. You’re clever, and you know when to stay hidden and when to run.”

“Sometimes the fox gets caught,” she said.

“True,” he answered. “But whatever happens, the fox never gives up. That is how it escapes the hunters.”

“Are you suggesting I can do the same?” she asked, confused by Worthington’s amiable advice. What was he getting at?

“I am suggesting, dear lady, that you can do anything you put your mind to,” Worthington said.

Isobel she gazed out over the forbidding sea, and said, “If only that were true, yet none of us have the power to turn back time. If I did, I find a way to save my husband’s life. Yet such a thing is impossible.”

“Is it?” he asked.

She regarded him quizzically. “You are talking about the fantastical, Captain. Such a power does not exist.”

“My lady,” he continued, “I have sailed the world over many times, and in my travels, I have seen many strange, mystical things—things that defied explanation, or things that should not exist. For instance, there are those who say mermaids are a figment of the imagination, yet I have seen them in these very waters.”

“Mermaids?” she asked. “Indeed, Captain.”

What game was he playing at now? The man was becoming as mad as Sir Harry Lennox.

“There are many stories of mermaids here in Diamond Cove,” he replied, “and
mermen
, too. I should keep my eyes open, if I were you, Lady Ravenwood. One never knows what one might find in these waters.”

What was the man trying to say? Was he trying to give her false hope? Or did he know something about Beckett’s fate?

Sir Harry appeared on deck, fussing with the lapels of coat. As he approached Isobel and Worthington, she felt her stomach sink like a stone.

This was it, then.

“Coaching my bride-to-be in the tricks of your pirate trade, Worthington?” Sir Harry asked crossly.

“Oh no, Lennox, she needs no coaching from me,” the captain replied with a mocking smile.

“You think to laugh at me, do you?” Sir Harry said, grabbing Isobel’s arm and pulling her roughly beside him. “Believe me, Captain, I will have the last laugh…on all of you.”

Captain Black hissed at Sir Harry, but Worthington held the animal fast. Startled, Sir Harry took a step back.

Worthington stared him down, saying, “To quote Mr. Shakespeare, ‘A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ I wish you luck, Sir Harry, as you will most likely need it.”

With that, the man turned away and walked to the open cargo hold to oversee the unloading of smuggled goods into their landing boats.

Sir Harry glared after the pirate captain, then turned his attention to Isobel.

He pulled her close to him so that her breasts were pressed uncomfortably against his chest. Instinctively, she turned her head away from his leering face, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his dark, dangerous eyes.

“I shall be your husband now, as I was meant to be,” he said. “You will see that no man could ever love you as much as I do, Isobel. Soon…you will see exactly how much I love you.”

He pulled her head towards his and she tried to squirm away, but he was too strong, and his vile lips covered hers as he forcibly kissed her. Isobel felt bile rising in her throat.

What would she do? How would she fight him off when they reached Hampton Park and he tried to claim her body?

“That was only a taste, my love,” Sir Harry said, releasing her. “I shall show you much more tonight in our chamber. After you’ve been taught a lesson for cuckolding me, of course.” He touched her cheek. “Until tonight, then.”

Cold fear washed over her heart in icy waves as she pondered her fate with Sir Harry. She would be his prisoner…he would use and abuse her in any way he wanted.

As Sir Harry led her toward the side of the ship, a gull swooped down from above, having apparently decided to use Sir Harry’s head for target practice. Lennox stood stunned for a few moments, then scowling, he gingerly reached up a hand to investigate what had landed on his head. His face seemed to curl inward as he grimaced in distaste.

“Bloody hell!” Sir Harry howled. “Damned ignorant bastards, those disgusting birds.” He pulled out his handkerchief to mop at his head.

Isobel found herself laughing, along with the pirate crew. The scene lifted her spirits, as surely the gull had been sent by the Lord Himself to give her a sign.

“Alright, the theatricals are over,” Sir Harry said, crossly. “Isobel, get down that ladder and into the boat. It’s time to get off this bloody scow.”

Captain Worthington sent Lennox a withering look.

With no other choice, Isobel took a deep breath and descended the ladder. If she hoped Worthington would intervene at the last moment, she was disappointed.

Stepping into the boat, Isobel sat silently while Sir Harry descended the rope ladder. The two pirates he had hired sat in the middle, each one holding an oar. Soon, her abductor took his seat and the boat began to move through the water towards shore.

For a moment, she had the urge to jump overboard and try to swim to shore herself. She knew it would be impossible—the men would be able to pick her up very quickly, if she didn’t drown first.

No, she would not go willingly to her death. She must stay alive. There might be an opportunity for escape after they reached Hampton Park. She had grown up there, and knew all sorts of hidden passages that she doubted Sir Harry would. One way or another, she would escape this madman.

Until then, she would think of nothing but Beckett.

* * *

Hampton Park loomed dark and foreboding in the distance. The yellow moon hung low and eerily above the house as the carriage rattled over the bumpy road. This was certainly not the homecoming Isobel had hoped for.

She regarded Sir Harry across from her in the dark cab. He stared at her, and she saw his eyes flash in the dim light from the lanterns that bobbed outside the windows.

The man looked like the devil himself.

Dear Lord, was this truly happening?

Would this blackguard finally be victorious in his utter destruction of her and her family? Obviously, Sir Harry thought so. He’d sent word ahead to rouse the parson from his sleep to be ready to marry them when they arrived. Then they would finally enjoy their wedding night, he’d sneered.

Just the thought of it made her sick with fear. How could she let Sir Harry touch her as Beckett had done? How would she survive something so horrible, with the memories of her husband’s sweet touch swirling in her head and mocking her as this villain defiled her body?

Sir Harry leaned forward and took her face in his hands. Isobel stiffened, trying to keep calm, but the touch of his skin made her want to retch. He brought his face closer, trying to cover her mouth with his own. Isobel struggled against him, pounding his chest with her fists in a vain attempt at freedom.

“Stop it, Isobel!” Sir Harry barked. “You can’t escape, do you understand? You are mine, now. Ravenwood is dead. Forget him.”

“I can’t forget him,” she cried. “I won’t!”

“Yes you will, little wife,” he said, maliciously. “I will drive his memory from your head and your heart. I will drive him out of your body with my own. Beginning tonight.”

Sir Harry pulled at his neck cloth and untied the elaborate bow. “It seems you need to be trussed up, my dear. I suppose it’s just as well that you develop a liking for such things now.”

He yanked her arms in front of her, easily binding her wrists with the strong silk. Isobel struggled, but it was futile. He was much too strong for her.