The Pirate Bride (22 page)

The thing was filled with jewels and gold.

He looked back toward the cabin. There was no time. Still…

He moved swiftly. He didn’t dump the entire barrel; he was afraid of the noise it would make. Instead he quickly tossed item after priceless item over the side. It took only moments. He opened the second barrel, and the third. In short order he took supreme pleasure in the fact that the treasure that would have allowed these men the luxury of watching a hanging from the best seats was now lying on the seabed.

Then he made a silent retreat back to the cabin.

“What the hell? Do you think the big oaf fell straight overboard, his thing a’flappin’ in the breeze?” the beringed fellow asked.

“Go check on him,” Gold-earring commanded.

“You go check on him,” Rings replied.

“Want a chance to get your money back? He’s the only one on your side, mate,” Gold-earring pointed out.

Swearing, the loser with the rings rose and came outside. Leaving the door open behind him, he stepped forward and called, “Griffin, where ye be?”

Logan inched closer, gently pushing the door so that it would close slowly, as if from a shift in the ship.

When the man turned, Logan ducked.

“Griffin? Brewster?”

He would cause an alarm if he was left alone any longer, so Logan sprinted up behind him, clapped his hand over the man’s mouth and slipped the blade of his knife between two ribs to pierce the heart.

For a moment, the man gurgled wetly and struggled.

Then his struggles weakened and he grew silent.

Logan eased him to the deck, then rolled him behind a water barrel.

Two more. He made his way back to his post outside the captain’s cabin. Long minutes passed. The two remaining men discussed the lack of quality whores in both New Providence and Jamaica.

“Where are those two?” the bearded man finally asked.

The thin pirate rose. “We’ll find ’em. Maybe they’re out there hoarding the gold, eh? Well, I’ll not be losing out on it!”

Both men were coming out at once.

Logan knew he had no choice.

The skinny man saw him, so he pulled one of the pistols and shot. The explosion seemed louder than a roll of thunder directly overhead.

The other man was pulling his own pistol, so Logan let his knife fly. It caught the man straight in the heart.

But the shot had created a noise he hadn’t needed.

And there were far more men still aboard the ship than he had imagined. They were suddenly streaming up from belowdecks, using ladders at both the stern and the bow.

He emptied his pistols, threw his last knife and drew out his sword.

There were dead men everywhere. His efforts were aided by the fact that Colm’s crew was slipping and sliding in the blood; those who had pulled their pistols fired off shots that went wild and twice hit members of their own crew.

The remaining men dropped their pistols as spent or dangerous and drew their swords.

How many of them were there? Logan wondered.

No matter how many swords he parried, there was always another. He didn’t know how long his senses would cue him in to a man at his back, or how long he could fend off a man in front and another at his side.

He was forced back, again and again.

He was nicked, and he knew that in time the blood loss would begin to sap his strength.

He leapt atop the rail, with them grouped around him. He had but one chance to survive and fight another day.

To leap into the water.

He never leapt.

And his opponents never forced him over.

Because suddenly, out of the darkness of the night, came an explosion.

Loud. Shattering. The ship itself trembled.

And then he
was
cast overboard, and as he fell into the dark, he was aware of the scent of burnt powder and the orange of flame.

As he struck the water and plunged hard and deep into the sea, he realized that Blair Colm’s ship had been hit by cannon fire.

B
RENDAN HAD NEVER
intended to start a gun battle that night.

But Jimmy O’Hara had called down from the crow’s nest as, under cover of darkness, they had reached the island.

As they rounded the shore, they had seen the ship anchored just outside the reef and recognized the flags it flew, then seen signs of activity on the island. If Red
was
there with Logan, they might have been captured by Blair Colm, Brendan thought in fear.

And if the man knew he was holding the notorious pirate who had been chasing him around the Caribbean…

He didn’t want to think about that.

If she were aboard Blair Colm’s ship, he didn’t want to sink it. And yet he couldn’t become a sitting duck himself.

Then Jimmy O’Hara had called down that a man who appeared to be Logan Haggerty was waging a savage and single-handed battle against nearly two score crewmen, and Brendan felt he had no choice.

So he had ordered cannon fire, a singe shot from the thirty-two pounder. Blair Colm’s ship was a merchantman with a thick hull; it would take far more than a single round to sink such a ship. But something had to be done.

Strangely, the cannon fire seemed to coincide with the break of dawn. The shot exploded and a fire burst up from the deck—good God, they must have hit a powder reserve—and then the horizon seemed to stay alight, a yellow line sweeping across to separate sea from sky.

“The beach!” Jimmy cried.

Brendan drew out his spyglass and studied the shore. People were scurrying about the beach, looking almost like ants from this distance, trying to ascertain the source of the explosion and gauge the danger. Brendan had run the ship in the dark, and they might have stayed hidden if he hadn’t fired off the shot.

Jimmy had been right about more than just the existence of the island. Logan Haggerty
had
been fighting for his life on Blair Colm’s ship. Brendan had seen him just before the shot went off.

He focused the glass in that direction now, but there was no sign of Logan anymore. The men aboard Blair’s ship were working frenziedly, hauling up the anchor and putting out fires.

He swung the glass back to the beach.

He didn’t see Red. All he saw were men reaching for their weapons and running toward the boats.

Then he saw Blair Colm.

He was standing on the beach, in full view, as if he were convinced he was invincible. He was shouting orders, and the men were rushing to obey.

Brendan shouted to Peg-leg. “Turn the guns. I want one volley—straight on the beach. Aim forward, not into the trees.”

Peg-leg turned, hurrying to deliver the order. Already gunners were taking their positions at the swivel guns on the deck.

Their aim was true. A shot exploded in the shallows, and men went flying.

And then Brendan saw her.

It was impossible to miss her. Her hair was like a beacon—and she was wearing a dress.

A dress? He could barely remember how she looked in such attire, which she had last worn the day the notorious Red Robert had been born. He thanked God. Perhaps that meant Blair Colm had never recognized her as the pirate captain.

She was with a woman and an elderly man. Lord Bethany and his daughter, perhaps? How the hell had they all come to be together?

He couldn’t dwell on the question. He saw Red almost dancing with the fellow she was fighting.

The other woman was no silly fool. He watched her knee a man in the groin as he made a lunge for her.

“Fire again! One more volley, and take care—the captain is ashore!” he cried.

The beach and the water exploded once more.

“Man in the water!” Jimmy O’Hara shouted.

Brendan looked up toward the crow’s nest.

Jimmy was waving wildly. “Man in the water!” he shouted again. “It’s Laird Haggerty!”

T
IMING WAS
everything, Red thought, as she realized what ship had arrived.

Oh, God, if only Brendan and his crew had made it a day earlier…

But they had not, and now Brendan was doing the best he could, and making all the right moves under the circumstances.

A quick glance out to sea showed her that Blair’s ship had been hit—and there were more than a dozen men racing about the deck.

Her heart sank.

What had happened to Logan?

Was he dead?

Or had he somehow escaped?

She wielded her second knife to keep Colm’s men at a distance and managed to find the Bethanys and drag them along the path that led to the fresh water and the cave.

“What are we doing? Where are we going?” Cassandra gasped.

“To the cave. The entrance is behind those trees. Hurry, and don’t stop, no matter what. You’ll find more weapons there. Now run!”

But as they rounded a bend in the path and she pushed them ahead, she nearly went sprawling facedown on the embankment by the pool.

Someone had hold of her skirt.

She reassured herself that Cassandra and her father were racing ahead, as commanded, then turned, her knife ready, and the man who’d caught her—Billy Bones—laughed and jumped back. “You want to fight me?” he asked, amused.

“You want to fight
me?
” she returned.

He laughed again. “Oh, little girl, don’t be foolish.”

He made a grab at her; she swiped with the knife.

“I like them feisty,” he said with a nasty grin.

“I understand you’re equally fond of livestock,” she informed him. She had assessed him as the kind of man who was quick to anger, and like most men, he would make rash mistakes when he was angry. It would give her the advantage she needed.

“You
are
livestock, little girl,” he countered.

He flew at her then, still laughing.

She was ready.

She never even had to stab him.

He impaled himself on her blade.

His weight and momentum knocked her to the ground under him, and he stared at her in disbelief. His laughter turned to a gasp, and then, his mouth and eyes still open, he died.

With a cry, she shoved him off her, wrenching her knife free.

But before she could rise, she was pinned to the ground by a boot on her chest. She moved to stab at her attacker’s leg, but someone else stamped down so hard on her arm that she cried out. The knife slipped from her fingers, and she looked up.

Blair Colm was standing with his foot atop her, several of his men at his side. “Get her up. And bring her with us. I’m getting a strange feeling there’s a relationship between this bitch and the convenient arrival of Red Robert.” He leaned low, until his thin face and cold eyes were uncomfortably near her own. “What do you say, dear Bobbie? Is there perhaps a romance between you? Am I right?”

She spat at him. He retaliated by slapping her with the swiftness of a serpent’s strike. Her head reeled.

It continued to spin as he dragged her upright. She dimly heard him snap, “Where are the other two captives?”

“They must have been taken out on the first boat, Cap’n,” someone responded. “They aren’t with her.”

“Walk,” Colm commanded.

But the world was still spinning, and she couldn’t.

She couldn’t even protest when he threw her over his shoulder.

She simply lost consciousness.

T
HE SUN ROSE QUICKLY
.

Logan was barely out of the water when he cried, “Fire at will at the ship. Red and the Bethanys aren’t aboard.”

Brendan quickly turned to the crew and ordered, “Fire on the ship! Fire at will!” Then he turned to Logan and said, “I know. I saw them ashore.”

Logan gripped his shoulders. “You saw them? Were they—”

“They were running inland.”

“A glass! I need a spyglass,” Logan said. Peg-leg quickly supplied one, and Logan focused on the beach.

With black powder filling the air, it was difficult to make out details, but then he saw two boats, both of them riding dangerously low in the water, thanks to Red.

“Their boats! Fire on their boats!” he yelled.

“Calculate fire!” Brendan shouted. “Aim for the tenders.”

And then Logan felt as if an ice cold hand had reached out from the cloud of smoke and closed around his heart.

“Stop!” he roared.

“Cease fire!” Brendan commanded. Then he turned to Logan and asked, “Why?”

“He has her. Blair Colm has Red,” Logan said, feeling physically ill.

As Brendan lifted his own spyglass, Logan stared, then slumped against the rail. Walking in easy view, Blair Colm was making his way down the beach to the third longboat, Red thrown over his shoulder. She was unconscious.

Unconscious? Oh, God, please let her only be unconscious, he prayed.

Because Blair Colm was the kind of man who would keep Red’s dead body, knowing full well that they would not strike while there was a prayer she was alive.

Someone muttered an anguished, “Oh, God!”

And then Logan realized he was the one who had spoken.

He looked toward shore again and saw her hand move. She
was
alive, he realized with an overwhelming sense of relief.

He watched as Blair and his men got into the last of the tenders.

The second boat was just ahead of the one Red was on, six men aboard, the distance between the boats too narrow for Brendan’s men to fire without fear of killing Red.

The first began to sink in earnest, still a good distance from Colm’s ship.

Bless her, Red had done her work well.

The men began yelling, cursing, and several started to swim, trying to reach the other two boats.

Blair Colm never sat. He balanced easily, even in the small rowboat, with Red’s weight over his shoulder.

He stared toward the
Eagle,
and Logan would have sworn that, despite the distance, the man’s eyes met his.

His very look defied them. He smiled in satisfaction as his men rowed.

One of the men from the first boat was struggling in the water. Finally he slipped beneath the surface and drowned, but Colm didn’t appear to so much as notice. He was returning to his ship, presumably to sail away to regroup and repair.

With Red as his prisoner.

“Where are the other two?” Brendan asked, almost as if he spoke to himself.

Logan looked around. Neither Lord Bethany nor Cassandra were anywhere to be seen, though he was pleased to see that the second boat was sinking rapidly.

He lowered the glass. “She led them to the caves,” he said, praying he was right and that the other two weren’t dead. Unfortunately, he knew that Lord Bethany would have fought to the death to save his daughter, just as Cassandra would have died before letting harm come to her father.

He swung the glass back to watch Blair Colm.

From the crow’s nest, Jimmy O’Hara shouted down, “Survivors! Eight o’clock!”

“I see them, Jimmy, send a boat to the side, quick, get a good swimmer out there, too!”

As Brendan gave orders to rescue the remains of Blair’s crew, Logan thrust the glass toward the other man and gripped the rail. “I’m going after her. I can’t let him—”

“Wait!”

Logan almost punched Brendan when the other man reached out and stopped him.

“Treat your wounds first, while we see what his next move will be.”

“His next move will be to hurt her.”

“His next move will be to try to bring down this ship. We must stop him, and
then
we will rescue Red,” Brendan told him.

“Keep her angle fair to fire and escape a volley in return,” Logan said. “He lost powder after your first shot, so he’ll be hampered. But we won’t have much time. I think he’ll want to take a few shots, then limp away, and we can’t let him do so with Red in custody.”

“I know how to sail a ship and how to fight,” Brendan told him quietly.

Logan nodded painfully, then felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Silent Sam. “Come on. The surgeon will stitch you up. Hagar is fixing up a fine bag of tricks for you.”

Logan allowed himself to be led away. He even accepted a bottle of rum and swigged deeply when the ship’s surgeon came with his needle and thread to patch up the worst of his wounds.

After the surgeon left. Logan was still seated on the bunk in the captain’s quarters when the door opened and Cassandra burst in, falling to her knees before him.

“Oh, God, Logan!”

“Cassie,” he said, touching her wet hair gently. “Your father…?”

“Is well, thank God. They are tending to him, dry clothes, warmed rum…”

He nodded, smiling at her. His fingers trembled. “I’m so glad you’re alive. Were you…? Did they…?”

She shook her head, taking his hand, kissing it.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he said. “You were coming for me. I pray that God forgives me the harm I’ve caused you. More, I pray that
you
forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you. How could you ever doubt?”

“You are a generous woman, Cassandra Bethany. And I…I must go and save another.”

“Bobbie?” she asked with an understanding smile.

“Aye,” he said, and looked away, wondering how much of his feeling for Red she had discerned in his eyes.

“Friends should always seek to save their friends,” she told him, then blushed. “Oh, Logan, time is short, and…and this may be the only chance we have to speak of this, so I pray you will indulge me. You are a wonderful man and my dearest friend, but…I have come to realize that I do not love you as a wife should love a husband. And—” She looked up and smiled again, this time radiantly. “I believe you do not…love me as you once thought, either.” She waved him to silence when he would have spoken, then went on. “Oh, I know that you do love me. But you are not
in love
with me.”

“Cassandra,” he murmured, “you are a beauty. You possess a brilliant mind. You have compassion, courage—”

“I am indeed quite wonderful,” she told him, laughing now. “And I will be loved. As I believe you are already loved. And I believe you love her in return, do you not?”

He knew she could read the truth both of her words and his feelings in his eyes.

“You are a rare woman, Cassandra Bethany,” he said. “And someday, I pray, I will be able to tell you so at length. But now…now I
must
go and rescue…Bobbie.”