The Pirate Ruse (19 page)

Cristabel cleared her throat—lowered
her voice in an effort to sound somewhat masculine. “No, thank you, ma’am,” she said, wondering if she sounded too polite for a pirate. Still, James Kelley was polite to her. Thus, why should she not be polite to a barmaid?

“What ship do you crew with?” the woman asked.
“There are several of you here tonight that I do not recognize.”

“
The Merry Wench
,” Cristabel answered. She slightly gasped, instantly realizing she had only just named a pirate ship! Not simply a pirate ship (though publicly claiming to be a pirate was dangerous enough, even near New Orleans) but Navarrone’s ship! It was certain the woman was acquainted with Navarrone—most likely well acquainted with him—intimately acquainted with him. Oh, why had she spoken?

“
The Merry Wench
?” the woman asked in an awed whisper. Sensing the near panic in the woman’s voice, Cristabel looked up in time to see the woman’s lovely face grow pale, her blue eyes fill with tears. “Pardon me, will you?” the beauty said. “Celestine! Celestine!” she called. Another disheveled woman quickly appeared.

“Oui?” the woman called Celestine asked.

“Please…I-I must go…for just a short time,” the beauty from the painting explained. “Quickly!” she added, handing Celestine the crock of beer she had been holding. “I will return when…when I am finished.”

“You c
an’t leave now!” Celestine argued. “Christophe will be very angry!”

“Tell him I’
m sick…very ill. I-I will return as soon as I am able.”

Without another word, the beauty from Navarrone’s painting was gone
—vanished through a door in the back of the room.

Cristabel was assured then—assured that Navarrone and the beauty were
entwined, their lives entangled. She wondered at the circumstance of their connection or at least how they had once been associated. It was plain evident the woman did not wish to cross the path of anyone from the
Merry Wench
—did not wish to cross Navarrone’s path. Had the woman from the portrait been one of Navarrone’s many conquests? Or perhaps this woman had somehow escaped him. Thus, he kept her portrait ever in his attention, determined he would one day have her. Whatever the tale was, it was apparent that Navarrone the Blue Blade obsessed over the woman—but that she would ever run from him.

“You little rat!”

The hair on the back of Cristabel’s head stood on end at the sound of his angry voice behind her. The woman had momentarily distracted Cristabel from her ponderings of her fate. Yet she suddenly remembered she was about to be flogged. Leaping from her seat, she meant to dash from the place—avoid Navarrone’s wrath. Yet he was too quick, and she felt him take hold of the back of her shirt.

“You might have gotten us all killed!” he growled into her ear.
His breath on her cheek and neck caused her flesh to ripple with goose bumps.

“
I am sorry, Captain,” she whispered as she felt one of his powerful arms band round her waist. “I only wanted to—”

“Killed, love!
Dead! They would’ve hung us on the spot if they had seen you…known we were lying…that I had kept a woman captive!” he interrupted. “And what of James Kelley? What is his part in this?”

“Nothing!
I swear it!” she whispered. “I knocked him over the head with a bottle of—”

“Enough!” he grumbled.
“And do not even contemplate attempting to escape. There is something malicious at work here, and you are at the center of it. I may not have ransomed you, love…but neither will I free you. You are my possession until I say otherwise. Do you understand, Miss Cristabel Desiree Albay?”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Cristabel managed.

He released her, taking her by the collar. “Then come along, lad. All sailors must learn to hold their beer—no matter how young. Am I right?” he roared.

A general agreement from all the men in the tavern went up
in cheers.

“Drinks all around, barmaid!” Navarrone laughed, tossing a han
dful of pieces of eight to the woman called Celestine. “Drink up, lads! The Blue Blade would see all the patrons and wenches at La Petite Grenouille happy this night!”

Again a general up
roar of well-wishing and thanks erupted.

As the men in the tavern began staggering toward the bar and demanding drinks be brought to their tables
, Navarrone growled, “Come along, love,” as he pushed Cristabel out of the tavern. “It’s back to the ship with you.”

“Are y-you going to flog me?” she asked.

“You know the rules of being ashore for a purpose such as we had tonight,” he growled. “No talking. None whatsoever.”

“B-but
—”

“Silence,
vixen!” he ordered. “Else I strip and flog you here this moment!”

Cristabel gulped
and tried to keep the tears in her eyes, but they escaped to cascade over her cheeks.

“Now come along, Miss Albay,” he whispered.
“You have much to answer for.”

He took hold of her arm, storming toward the small boat waiting to ferry them back to the schooner.
Cristabel glanced up to the stars and moon—wondered if it was the last time she would ever see them winking at her from the heavens.

*

Not a word was spoken—no conversation exchanged between the crewmen. The hour sail back to the
Merry Wench
seemed an eternity to Cristabel. Anticipating torture was more heinous than ever she had imagined. Though she did not break into sobbing, tears trickled over her cheeks at varying intervals all the way back to the
Merry Wench
. The only comfort offered her came from Baskerville. Just before they reached the ship, the weathered man placed a knurled hand on her shoulder, nodding reassurance when she looked to him. Yet she was little comforted. Furthermore, she worried for James. He would surely be flogged alongside her—perhaps cast away from the crew. Oh, why had she been so selfish, so rash in her decision to accompany the away party?

The schooner arrived
, the smaller boat took the crew to the
Merry Wench
, and Cristabel Albay climbed the rope ladder to meet her doom.

“James Kelley!” Navarrone roared once the
y were on deck. “James Kelley!”

Cristabel’s tears renewed when she saw James bravely appear on deck.
It had been agreed he would wait for her below deck, yet she was certain he knew they had both been found out. The anger in Navarrone’s voice was unmistakable.

“Aye, Cap’n?” James greeted as he stood before Captain Navarrone.

“I’m sorry, James,” Cristabel began.

“Do not speak, girl!” Navarrone growled
, and she bit her tongue.

“Cap’n,” James began, “
it ain’t her fault, Cap’n. I—”

“She claims she struck you over the head with a bottle,” Navarrone interrupted, however.
“Is that true, James Kelley?”

“No, Cap’n,” James admitted.

“James, please…” Cristabel whispered. She gasped when Navarrone took hold of her chin and forced her to face him.

“I said, do not speak!” he reminded her.
He released his grip on her and returned his attention to James. “How did this come to be then, James?” he asked.

Cristabel shook her head
, silently pleading with James to keep their secret—to save himself from flogging.

But he was a good
boy—and loyal. “I suggested it, sir,” he admitted, “to pay my debt to her for saving my life.”

“Did you think of the danger, James?” Navarrone asked.
“If not to her…to us? If we had been found out…I told the governor Bully Booth had her, James!” he shouted. “They would have stretched our necks if they had found her! And then they would have come for the
Merry Wench
, James—for everyone!”

“I-I’m sorry, Cap’n Navarrone,” James stammered.
“I…I did not think. I acted rashly, and I am sorry.”

“There are rules here, James,” Navarrone said.
“Punishments must be inflicted for such crimes as these. Do you understand? Do you know what I must do? I cannot allow this to simply fade away, James Kelley.”

“I understand, Cap’n.
And I will accept whatever discipline you name,” the boy said.

“Please, Captain,” Cristabel began.
She turned to him, her desperate gaze pleading with his infuriated one. “Please…whatever punishment you name for him…I will take it in his stay.”

Navarrone’s eyes narrowed.
“You have your own punishment to bear, love. You would not survive both his and yours.”

“I know,” she breathed
, terror breaking over her. What did he mean to do to her and James? What could be so brutal that she could not live through it? “Yet is there no way I can barter with you? Is there nothing I can offer to lessen his pain? It is, all of it, my fault and only mine.”

Navarrone’s dark eyes narrowed.
He seemed pensive a moment.

“Oh
, there is something, love,” he said. “There is definitely something.” Cristabel wept as he said, “Are you willing then to barter for James’s health then, Cristabel Albay?”

Frantically Cristabel’s mind fought for rescue.
She knew she had only herself to offer, yet she could not sacrifice her virtue. But what of James Kelley? It was her fault he was to be flogged. She could not let another human being suffer pain and perhaps death for her mistake.

Thus, she nodded—brushed tears from her cheeks and nodded.

Navarrone inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

“What say you
, crew?” he bellowed then. “Do you love James so much as to allow our fair prisoner to save his hide from the cat?”

“What terms, Cap’n?” Baskerville asked.

“My terms, Baskerville,” Navarrone said. “If Cristabel Albay offers me what I intend to have…then I may be swayed to spare James Kelley the flogging he most certainly has coming to him. What say you, crew of the
Merry Wench
? Would you see your captain have the fair Miss Albay’s affections in exchange for James Kelley’s well-being?”

“Aye,” came a unified
rumble of agreement.

“No, miss!” James Kelley argued, however.
“It’s my fault, Cap’n Navarrone! Only mine!”

“Silence, James Kelley!” Navarrone roared.
“You are in no position to barter. But she is…so silence.” He took hold of Cristabel’s arm and began roughly dragging her toward his cabin. “And do not disrespect her sacrifice for you by arguing further, boy!”

As Navarrone opened the cabin door, forcing her inside, Cristabel’s tears increased
, for it was only then that she realized she would not be able to barter—that she would truly be sacrificed. She had somehow forgotten, until that moment, that she was no longer of any worth to Navarrone. He had not ransomed her to Richard, for it had been revealed that Richard was somehow involved with his uncle’s treasonous activities. Why else could it have been Richard who invented the lie concerning her and the nonexistent British sailor? Therefore, she no longer had hold over Navarrone, for he had no reason to return her to anyone—especially unspoiled.

“The
governor would have hanged all my men, Cristabel!” he growled once the door was closed. Glaring at her, he said, “And what would’ve become of you, eh? With your traitorous fiancé and stepfather taking possession of you? You might not have been so fortunate as to have an honest privateer come upon you again. Though we may have hanged, your fate might have been far worse!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Cristabel sobbed.
“I did not think of it. I did not think I would be found out.”

“Deception is always uncovered, love…one way or the other,” he told her.
“In time, all lies are revealed.”

She gasped as he swiftly stripped off his shirt and advanced toward her.
His eyes smoldered with mingled desire and rage.

“No, no…only wait!” she begged.
“Please…I-I…”

He paused
, his brows arching in an expression of daring. “Shall I put James Kelley to the task of fashioning a cat-o’-nine-tails for himself?” he asked.

“No!
No! Only…only give me a moment,” she said. “I-I only need time.”

“I have allowed you plenty of time, woman!” he growled.
“Since the moment I pulled you off that bloody
Screaming Witch
, I’ve given you time.” His massive chest rose and fell with the labored breathing of fury. “Do you know what your fate would have been if Bully Booth had succeeded in taking you?” he asked. “Do you have any flicker of a notion of what they would have done?”

Cristabel was confused
, for it seemed his rage was only increasing. She could not guess why; he had defeated her after all. Why then was he yet so enraged?

“And how would you have defended yourself against him?
Against his crew?” he asked. He shook his head. “You could not have. You would have been lost…ravaged…then killed.”