The Marriage Bargain (22 page)

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 strong 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. “Where are they taking him?”

Sir Harry smirked. “To the brig, my dear. 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 is 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. 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. I have one, and it beats only for you. You shall understand that one day.”

As she stared at Sir Harry in disgust, another man approached them—a man who from his bearing was undoubtedly the captain of the ship. He had a fierceness that made Isobel tremble. Though he only looked to be in his forties, his hair was white as snow. He wore it tied back in a bloodred 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 ship’s captain said.

“I am the countess of Ravenwood.”

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

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

“Of course.” Worthington nodded and smiled smoothly. “Firstly, Madam, 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?”

“No, no.” The pirate shook 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 turned back to Isobel. “I applaud your efforts, madam.”

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

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

Sir Harry grabbed Isobel’s arm and pulled her next to him. “It does seem that my little kitten has claws.

But they shall soon be trimmed. It is nothing I cannot handle.”

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

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

“Ah, yes. 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, petulantly. “As you can see, I’m in need of a change of clothes. I shall leave Isobel to your care for a few moments, if you think you can manage her?”

Sir Harry pulled Isobel close and whispered in her ear. “Behave now, my darling. I’m sure Captain Worthington will not be so indulgent of your antics as I.”

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

Worthington turned to Isobel, his fierce gray eyes holding her prisoner.

“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. If, let’s say, a sack of coffee beans fell overboard, no one on this ship would bother to fish it out. And since you are a piece of cargo that I am being paid to transport, I’m afraid my crew and I have as much interest in you as we would in a sack of coffee beans.”

Isobel felt her heart sinking even deeper, but tried not to let it show.

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 laughed bitterly. “Oh, what does it matter? The truth is, I would welcome such a fate, compared to the one that awaits me.”

“With Lennox?”

“He will murder my husband, sir, and force me to be his bride. I have already seen him commit murder.

He is a madman.”

“I am sorry for you.”

“Are you? And you would allow him to do this? Have you no conscience?”

He smiled in a cold, businesslike manner. “You ask a pirate if he has a conscience, madam? 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.”

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

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

“I’m sure. You likely did so under Captain Black.” She stepped closer to the white-haired 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. You know, Josephine, our housekeeper at Ravenwood Hall also told me many stories of her own. Of course, they must be whimsy.

For 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 the man’s grey eyes, then quickly cloak itself. Worthington held the cat closer and regarded Isobel with a thoughtful expression. “I would like to hear these stories, Lady Ravenwood. Captain Black seems to be 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, trying to hide her smile.

Worthington looked unamused, and transfixed her with his stare. “We shall continue the conversation over dinner, then. And you must tell me more of these ‘folk-tales’ regarding Captain Black.”

Could those stories really be true?

“Ah, Sir Harry has returned.” Worthington made a bow. “I shall leave you under his ‘care.’ But 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.

Isobel felt her heart sink as she watched the pirate exchange a few words with Sir Harry. They both glanced at her for a moment, and she looked away, staring out at the azure water as they headed out to sea.

Surely, having Captain Black here was a good omen. She’d seen the look in Worthington’s eyes. Had it been one of fear? Of course, the man was a pirate and the captain of this ship. He was obviously adept at cloaking his reactions and maintaining a cool veneer at all times.

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. She would find a way to use the stories about Captain Black to her advantage.

And she would find a way to see Beckett. To save Beckett.

Or she would die trying.

Beckett moaned.

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. And then he remembered.

Isobel. He sat up and tried to get to his feet, but fell back down. He knew what the pain in his side meant. Broken ribs. Oh, bugger.

Beckett lay on his good side and clenched his teeth in frustration. He ignored the pain and struggled at the bonds that held his hands behind his back. It was fruitless. He was trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

Beckett felt a knot of fear and anger harden in his gut.

Where was Isobel? If Sir Harry had hurt her, had even touched a hair on her head… just the thought of the bastard’s hands on her made Beckett growl in fury.

He had to do something or he would go mad.

Beckett heard scuttling across the floor, and knew it was a rat. Well, who had he expected to meet in the hold of a pirate ship? Prinny? He felt like laughing. This would be the first time he’d gladly trade present company for that of the prince regent.

Trying to ignore the pain in his side, Beckett thought back to the Battle of Salamanca during the war. He and his men had been cut off from the main force by a legion of French dragoons. His colonel had panicked and led half the battalion to their deaths.

Beckett had taken command then, and though the situation had seemed utterly hopeless, he’d led the remaining men to safety by keeping a cool head and not letting his fear get the best of him.

He would do the same now.

The first thing to do was escape from this cell.

The second was to find a way for himself and Isobel to escape.

And the third was to kill Sir Harry Lennox. Of course, the second and third items might change order, depending on circumstances.

This obviously proved the validity of his wife’s previous claims.

Beckett stared at the dingy floor in the murky darkness. He decided not to contemplate the origins of the sticky substance that covered it and smelled like the back end of an ox. This would be his home for a little while. Still, he’d lived through worse things in the war.

He heard the scurrying again. It seemed the rat had brought its friends to meet their new cell-mate. Well, it wasn’t polite to complain about one’s neighbors.

The sound of keys rattled outside the door, and Beckett sat up, wincing from the pain in his side. Warm yellow light streamed into the cell and momentarily blinded him. He squinted, trying to focus on the looming shadow in the doorway.

“Lord Ravenwood,” said Sir Harry Lennox, stepping into the cell. “So glad you’re awake.”

Sir Harry stepped into the brig, followed by a large red-haired pirate who stood and blocked the entire door with his towering form.

“Your accommodations are comfortable, Ravenwood?” Sir Harry asked, looking about the cell.

“Quite.” Beckett fought the urge to attack the weasel-gutted peacock strutting before him. It would be no use while he was injured and with “Redbeard” standing just feet away. He’d learned during the war to pick his battles; this wasn’t one of them.

It was apparent Sir Harry had something in mind. And it was not killing him—not just yet. Lennox would have simply thrown him over the side by now if he wasn’t saving Beckett for something else.

“Your wife’s accommodations are very different, you’ll be pleased to know. Not like this dung-hole. But what else could I provide for a thief like yourself?”

“Thief?” Beckett spat. “I suppose I’m somehow responsible for stealingmywife and myself, then?”

“I have only recovered what is mine, Ravenwood. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Isobel is not yours. She never was yours. She will never be yours.”

“Oh?” Sir Harry smiled easily. “How do you know that I haven’t made her mine already?”

Beckett refused to take the bait. “Because there are not enough marks on your face, and you can still walk. If you had tried to possess my wife, I daresay you’d be much the worse for wear. Though I applaud her for the gash she gave your cheek back on the island.”

Sir Harry self-consciously raised his hand to the fresh wound on his face and stared down at Beckett darkly. “Don’t worry, Ravenwood. I do plan to tame the little cat, and take much enjoyment from it.”

“Do you? It’s obvious that you do not know my wife, sir. She is tenacious as a terrier. I don’t doubt she will have you for luncheon.” Beckett laughed even though it hurt his ribs to do so.

“Brave words from a man who is destined to spend his last days in a dung-hole. We’ll see how brave you are on the day of your execution, Lord Ravenwood.”

“Oh, have you a date in mind, then? Do be good enough to let me know so I can have my clothes in order. I wouldn’t want to swing in anything other than the latest fashion. Perhaps you might lend me something of yours, Sir Harry, as we look to be the same size?”

The man looked smug. “Who says I’m going to hang you?”

“Well, a hanging may be unimaginative, yet it does hold a certain amount of drama, as well as being easy.

I thought it would suit a coward like you perfectly. Just think of it. The yard-arm extended over the water, my hair blowing in the wind, all your pirate cronies assembled on deck waiting to watch me gasp my last. You know, it sounds just like Mr. Norton’s new play I saw at Drury Lane but a month ago. I must say, it was a boring affair.”

“I can assure you, Ravenwood, your execution will be anything but.”

“You have your work cut out for you, then. I’m afraid fighting in the war against Napoleon has made me ever so hard to impress.”

“Then I shall do my best to entertain you, my lord. And Isobel, of course, as she will be present to watch your long, painful death. You may spend the rest of the voyage in this miserable cell, with nothing else but that prospect to occupy your thoughts. Oh.” Sir Harry stopped as he turned to go. “That, and wondering which part of Isobel’s body I have my hands on at any given moment. Good day, Ravenwood.”