The Last Broken Promise (25 page)

“You’re going to die. Slowly and painfully?” opined Griffin.

“You St. Johns always did swagger around like you were better than the rest of us.” Hellwise was beginning to feel the precariousness of his position. But he just didn’t seem to be able to keep his foolish mouth shut.

“They
are
better than the rest of you.” Finn cocked his head towards the motley group racing away like rats from a sinking ship.

“It don’t make no difference,” Hellwise spat on the already muddy ground. “Your brother, the duke, he’s set it up so you will fall. I was just the warning. Your real reckoning is coming.”

“What is the fool blathering about, McLeod?” the Duke of MacAllister asked.

“Nothing that concerns you,” the pirate captain answered.

“Your brother hates you,” cackled the first mate as he turned tail to run with the rest of the fleeing prisoners. “His revenge is almost upon you. But you won’t see it coming. And the first one to feel its sting will be that little tart you’ve been so intent on claiming.”

The man gulped when he felt the blade at his throat and saw three steady pistols cocked and pointed between his eyes. Every one of Jess St. John’s brothers and her own beloved turned into cold-hearted killing engines at the mention of her name.

Finn stood staring at them all with his hands clenched into fists. It had been a torturous overland ride through the Low Country to get to Savannah. Mosquitoes, snakes, and swamp rats made the journey dangerous and miserable. But now that he was here, the only thing he wanted was to assure himself of Jessamine’s St John’s safety.

A small part of the man understood the tender reunion that was taking place in the tea shop. He didn’t fault the Duke of MacAllister for being glad to be back in the arms of his loving wife. And the woman in question was truly beautiful, if one favored small titian-haired females. His own tastes ran to a different type. And one woman in particular. One with tawny hair and a questionable temperament.

“I hate to break up this tender reunion,” the tall pirate said sarcastically. “But does any one of you know where in Hades Jess could be?”

They all turned to look at him. With a wide variety of differing expressions, they all shook their heads. Finn felt like breaking something. It was bad enough the chit had made off with his ship. Though he supposed he couldn’t fault her for that. He’d suggested she get back to the safety of his vessel. He just hadn’t expected her to sail away with it. McLeod wouldn’t have been so infuriated if he hadn’t been just as equally worried. This was the peak of the hurricane season in the Atlantic. There were no guarantees she’d make it to Savannah, if that’s where she was currently headed.

Tirzah seemed fascinated by the pirate brooding in the middle of her tea room. He was a tall man with long black hair. He stood arrogantly glaring at all of them. He was dressed outlandishly in knee boots, tight breeches, and a loose white shirt. He had a red kerchief tied around his head instead of a proper hat. A small gold hoop dangled from one ear. His hand was clenched on the butt of a curving saber. It hung from a wide loose belt at his hips. But all those paltry details were put in the shade by the sheer masculine appeal of the man.

“You wearing a ear-bob?” the old black woman asked. She didn’t ask about the brightly-colored kerchief. Those were fairly common in the Low Country, especially among the lower classes and the slaves.

Her comment caused more than a few snickers from the other men present. The pirate rolled his eyes. He tried to intimidate her with a cold, long stare. Tirzah was unimpressed.

“Ain’t no call for you to get all high and mighty. It a honest question. I ain’t ever seen no man sportin’ no ear-bob,” she grumped. She leaned over to pick up the porcelain plate with Rory’s uneaten portion of trifle.

“It isn’t a piece of jewelry,” Finn ground out. “It’s a symbol that I’ve sailed around the Horn of Africa.”

“Africa got a horn?” the irrepressible Tirzah wanted to know.

Finn didn’t deign to answer her question He had more important issues to resolve. The main one being, where was Jess? And was she safe? He started to begin interrogating them all when a distinguished looking mulatto man strolled into the tiny shop with a red-haired urchin in tow.

“Papa!” the boy screamed as he fearlessly launched himself into the duke’s waiting arms.

Dylan hoisted the wriggling child up onto his shoulder. “You’re looking fine today, Master Gabriel,” he said.

“You’re back” the lad said by way of conversation.

“I am that.” Dylan grinned.

His active youngest son was proving to be a trial for them all. There was nothing the child would not try. And no mischief he felt constrained to stay out of. Consequently, they all minded the little redheaded terror like a hawk.

“You was gone too long,” the boy said calmly plopping a thumb into his mouth.

“Yes, well... you see… ” his father was cut off by Finn.

“This is all marvelous. I’m very happy you’re in charity with each other. And, of course, there is nothing I’d rather do than take tea with the lot of you… but,” he drawled, again with heavy sarcasm. “Aren’t any of you the least bit concerned about where your cursed sister has got off to?”

The easy familiarity that had previously filled the room was suddenly cloaked in a distinctly Arctic chill. Each of the quick-tempered St. Johns took umbrage at his comment. And they all began to berate him at once.

“I knew we should have left him in Charleston,” Connor complained.

“If you’ll recall, I voted to leave him in the gaol,” Griffin added.

“What are so you so upset about, McLeod? It’s only a ship, and not a very swift one, at that. I will make you a bank draft for the thing,” Dylan egged the longsuffering man.

“You know bloody well, this has nothing, nothing to do with my ship.” Finn’s shout made the very rafters of the small establishment shake. “I just want to find Jess.”

“If I may be so bold?” the black man interrupted with perfect courtesy.

“Of course, Lysander.” Dylan bowed to his uncle.

“I believe the ship you are all seeking has just docked. That’s why I brought this imp inside,” he said as he smiled towards the boy. “I couldn’t have him trying to ride the rolling barrels that are beeing unloaded.” The black man shuddered thinking what catastrophe would surely ensue, if Gabriel was given free rein among the stevedores.

Finn rushed out the door of the pretty little café. The others soon followed after him. All except Dylan and Rory.

“Why is he so upset with your sister?” the beautiful woman asked her husband.

Instead of answering her, he gathered her into the circle of his arms and ruthlessly kissed the breath right out of her. After a long and leisurely interlude that left them both gasping, he finally spoke.

“He’s not upset with Jess.”

“From the way he’s behaving, one would think he hated her,” Rory said as she readjusted her rumpled clothing.

“No, it’s far worse than that.” Dylan clasped her small hand into his larger one. He led her to the door of the shop.

“He’s a dangerous looking man. What could be worse than having such a ruffian at odds with Jess?”

“He’s not a ruffian. He’s the brother to the Duke of Maitland. But he is dangerous. That’s why I want you and the children to stay away from him, as much as possible.”

“As much as possible? I’d think we’ll hardly see the man,” Rory said.

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But God has an ironic sense of humor.”

“Dylan, stop speaking in circles,” she ordered as they both stepped out into the crisp fall sunshine.

Savannah was bustling with every type of enterprise. A black man sold green hats woven from fresh palmetto fronds on the corner. A dray wagon pulled by stocky mules lumbered up the street. It was loaded with trunks and wooden crates. The tinkling of an out-of-tune pianoforte could be faintly heard. The tinny sound came from a nearby tavern. Tirzah’s Tea Room was the former notorious bordello, The Lavendar Rose, so its situation was not the most genteel in the city.

“Why does this dangerous man hate your sister? And what are we going to do about it? I say we send him packing.”

“He doesn’t hate her, Rory. I’m very much afraid the man loves her. And she, him. But it will do them no good.”

“I have told you many times in the past that I despise these cryptic moods of yours. Either speak plainly or I will get to the bottom of this mystery myself,” she threatened.

He grinned down at his feisty wife. It always amazed him that, from the beginning, she had been unafraid of him. He was Heartless St. John, a man both feared and reviled. But this incredible woman loved him in spite of his fierce reputation.

“I fear they love each other.”

“You have said as much already.”

“But they are not for each other.”

The woman sighed as she looked up at her hard, handsome husband. “Dylan, this is America. We don’t cling to your antiquated ideas of class and status. Of course, they can marry. If Jessamine loves the man, he can’t be a total reprobate.”

“He’s not a reprobate. But they can’t marry.”

“I don’t see why not. Is he indigent? If he hasn’t the means to support Jess, we can help them until he does,” she argued.

Dylan’s low chuckles were dark. They sent shivers up the woman’s spine.

“I don’t understand. You even forgave Bram Gottlieb after that whole messy affair that transpired before we wed. Why can’t you see the good in this… this… pirate. People can change, Dylan. You know this very well. For look how you yourself have been transformed into a pattern of respectability?”

“Rory, stop your tirade,” he said with his hands lifted in surrender.

The woman sniffed at his temerity. But she managed to hold her tongue. She arched her eyebrow at him in question. It was a trick she’d learned from the man himself. He found it and everything else about Aurora Windsor St. John adorable.

“They cannot marry and we cannot avoid the man because he will be our newest circuit-riding preacher,” he said succinctly.

“That pirate is a vicar?” It was apparent she was shocked.

“He will be very shortly.”

“A Christian pirate?” She was not yet convinced.

Dylan shook his head. “He’s not a pirate, love. He works for Arthur Bassett. His flamboyant appearance is merely a ruse.”

Rory looked doubtful. “He certainly looks the part. More so than need be, if you ask me.”

“He’s a handsome rogue,” Dylan agreed. “Women seem drawn to that type. Arthur has used that as an asset.”

“Much like he used you,” Rory said pertly.

Dylan frowned down at her. They rarely discussed his life before he met her. Although, he’d been honest with her, from the very beginning, about his profligate past. He would not like to see her troubled over events that happened before he came to his faith. He was, as she said, a much different man now. Though he scarcely considered himself respectable.

“They won’t marry,” was all he said.

“Because you have asserted yourself as the head of the family and forbidden it?” Rory seemed grieved.

“I did forbid the marriage. For whatever good it was worth, since Jess promptly rebelled against my authority.”

“And well she might. Your sister is an adult, Dylan. She can do as she pleases.”

“Aye, so she told me,” he smiled again. But this smile was forlorn. “That is not the reason they will not wed.”

“No?”

“No. After she humbled herself, so far as to literally beg the man to marry her, he humiliated her in front of a whole host of witnesses.” Now there was a hard edge to his words.

Rory gasped. “Oh no, poor Jess. But if they love each other, why would he so foolishly throw that away? True love matches are rare.”

“They are, indeed,” he said as he steered her around several bales of raw cotton waiting to be transported to the teeming docks on the street below them.

“Then why?”

“He says he must keep his vow to the Lord. And that includes becoming a circuit rider. Tis a dangerous occupation in the best of times. And right now, with the Creek Indians still rising on the frontier, it’s almost a sure death sentence.”

“He’s being noble,” she sighed.

Dylan frowned. He didn’t like his pretty wife sighing over the actions of another man. Especially the handsome McLeod.

“He’s being an idiot,” the big man disputed. “But no one can dissuade him from his
calling
.”

“Has anyone tried?”

“Love, I’ve been in Charlestown’s gaol and afterwards I’ve been hacking my way through sawgrass in the back country. There’s been very little time for theological debate.”

“Maybe I should try talking to him?”

“No.” It was a categorical order. “I meant it when I said I want you and the children away from the man. He’s too new to the faith to know much of anything except his determination to play the martyr by doing the one thing he hates the most.”

“God doesn’t work that way.”

“No love, thankfully He does not. But McLeod doesn’t know that. And the man has mistaken his own stubborn will for God’s.”

“I’ll pray for him,” Rory said as she tucked a trusting hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “God can fix this. Look at what He did for us. Who would have thought the biggest tomboy in Savannah would have ended up wed to the ton’s most notorious rake?” she asked with a great deal of cheek.

Dylan slapped a playful hand over his heart. “The ton’s most reformed rake,” he corrected.

“I do hope you don’t take this reformation business too far,” she teased. “I like my rakish husband. As long as he reserves his seductive skills for only me.”

“Only and ever you, my love,” he whispered into her ear.

Their attention was captured by the sound of sudden shouting on the street below. Above the incessant groan of the various ships rubbing up against the wooden dock and the creaking of the ever-present drays’ wagon wheels, they heard a furious argument escalating.

“You stole my ship!” Finn towered over the girl who stood unrepentant before him.

She still wore the tattered clothing of a boy. Her thick braid swung to and fro like a pendulum down her back as she gestured broadly with angry hands.

“Oh dear,” Rory said to her husband. “Do you think they will hurt each other?” she asked as the blonde girl kicked out at the pirate castigating her.