The Pirate Ruse (36 page)

“Will you be a pirate bride then, love?” he asked once more.
“My pirate bride?”

“Yes,” she breathed as more tears streamed over her pretty cheeks.
“Oh yes! Yes! I love you!”

“And I love you, Cristabel,” he whispered as his mouth descended to hers.

Oh, such a kiss it was!
Cristabel’s soul took flight to the heavens as Trevon bathed her in the euphoric bliss of his attentions to her mouth. His arms were banded around her—as if he meant never to release her again! Did he truly mean to marry her, to take her to wife? Yet as the passion of their exchange increased, she knew that he did. He loved her! Trevon Navarrone loved her! It was unfathomable—yet true!

How had they come to this
, to such fiery, passionate love? How had they come from captor and captive to being lovers? Yet she did not care in those moments. In those moments, all there was in the world was Trevon—his handsome strength, his wit, his wisdom, his patriotism—his love.

Cristabel was startled from her rapture by the sound of gunfire—and nearby.
Trevon broke from her at once, drawing cutlass as he turned from her. There was a scream from within the inn—from Vienne’s room.

Trevon glanced around
, his attention quickly falling to a small alcove on the wall of the balcony.

“Stay here,” he commanded, frowning.
“The dark should hide you well against the wall.” He pushed into the small alcove and turned to leave.

“No, wait!” she cried in a whisper.

“It is the keeper of La Petite Grenouille…no doubt come for Vienne,” he said, frowning. “Stay here, love. All will be well soon enough.”

But as Cristabel watched Trevon disappear into the inn, her heart pounded with fear and trepidation.
How could all be well when Vienne was being threatened?

It was because she did not stay where Trevon had told her to stay.
It was because she ventured from the safety of the darkness and the alcove to peer in through the doors leading to the inn that they found her. Cristabel understood this the moment a hand was placed over her mouth from behind—the moment she turned to see two faces she recognized.

As she struggled—fought to keep from being bound with rope
, a cloth wrapped around her mouth to silence her—Cristabel sobbed. The two men tying her hands and feet—the two men who mercilessly pushed her over the railing of the balcony to fall into a wagon full of straw—were two men she had seen before. As they leapt over the railing to land beside her in the wagon and hold her down, horror engulfed her, for these were two of the men who had first abducted her from the house of her stepfather.

Struggling—crying out th
rough the cloth binding around her mouth—Cristabel watched as the wagon lurched forward and gazed up at the balcony where she knew Trevon would return to find her gone. She knew Trevon could not hear her. Even if she had not been gagged, he could not have heard her, for the ruckus in the inn was loud enough to mask her weeping and muffled cries.

Trevon tightened his grip around Christophe’s throat. “Tell me where she is!” he roared. “Tell me, or I’ll slit your belly open and string out your guts while you watch!”

He was infuriated—mad with anger!
Fergus was tending to Baskerville’s wound while the other men kept guard over Vienne and his mother. Trevon had sent James Kelley to knocking on doors through the town in search of information concerning who had taken Cristabel and where.

“All right!
All right!” Christophe choked. Trevon did not immediately release his hold on the innkeeper, however. The proprietor of La Petite Grenouille had already abused his sister; now he had helped someone abduct Cristabel. Therefore, Trevon owned no mercy for him—only wished to continue tightening his grip around the villain’s neck.

“Release me!
Release me, and I’ll tell you all I know,” Christophe whispered.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Trevon did release his grip around the man’s throat.
Yet he quickly pulled the dagger from its sheath at the back of his waist, pressing the blade to his gullet.

“Speak or die, innkeeper!” Trevon growled.
“And I warn you…tell the truth—all of it—or I will make good my threat to open your belly!”

“All right!
All right! Hold your blade, pirate!” Christophe panted. He paused, however, and Trevon pressed the dagger blade more firmly against his throat.

“Speak!
Now!” he ordered.

Christophe held up a hand to stay Trevon’s blade
, nodded, and swallowed hard.

“All right…all right,” he began.
“She was recognized when she came into La Petite Grenouille to steal my serving wench.”

Trevon cut a small wound in Christophe’s neck with the tip of the dagger.
“That serving wench is my sister, man! Whom you abused and held captive with fear! Proceed carefully here…or you will die!”

“Yes, yes!
Of course,” Christophe stammered. “Your woman was recognized by an Acadian that frequents La Petite Grenouille. I heard him tell another that he had seen her before…in fact that he had taken her from her home…and been paid well to do so. He left soon thereafter, and a wealthy man returned with him.”

“William Pelletier?” Trevon offered.

“I do not know! He was a youngish man…perhaps your age,” Christophe panted. “He approached me and offered me near a barrel of money to help him capture the girl once more. I could not deny him…for he would have killed me, I am certain.”

“Where did they take her?” Trevon shouted.
“Where?”

“I do not know!
I do not!” Christophe cried, beginning to sob. “I only know that the place was not far off…for I heard them say that much.”

“Perhaps…p-perhaps the old house where we met before, Cap’n,” Baskerville grumbled as Fergus endeavored to clean the wound in his shoulder.

Baskerville had stepped in front of
Vienne in time to take a ball in the shoulder. It was eternal gratitude Trevon felt toward his friend for such a sacrifice. Yet his thanks would have to wait. Cristabel had been taken—by Richard Pelletier, no doubt—and he could not fathom what the man might do to her.

“Perhaps,” Trevon agreed.
“Baskerville, see that Mother and Vienne are safely returned to the schooner.” He looked to Fergus then. “Fergus, set sail with my mother, my sister, and young James Kelley. Then send the other men to accompany Baskerville to the old house where we met Claiborne concerning the
Chichester
.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Fergus agreed.

“You’re not going alone, are you, Cap’n?” Baskerville asked. “Pelletier may well have men other than the Acadians with him. You cannot go alone.”

“You and the others will attend me soon enough…but I cannot wait,” Trevon explained.

“And what am I to do?” Christophe asked as Trevon sheathed his dagger once more. “What will happen to me?”

“I don’t give a damn,” Trevon growled as his fist met with the man’s jaw, rendering the proprietor of La Petite Grenouille unconscious.

*

“Richard…Richard, please
,” Cristabel begged. “I don’t understand. We were to be wed. How can you do this thing?”

She tried to call upon greater courage
, yet it was difficult, considering the circumstance. In truth, she had managed to muster more courage in facing Bully Booth and all that had happened before the
Screaming Witch
had attacked the
Chichester
—before Trevon had rescued her and thrown them both into the sea. Now, however—now she was not so naive. Vienne’s tale of abduction and torture had frightened her—had taught her how very fortunate she had been, how blessed and watched over. What woman could hope for even one miracle in a lifetime? And Cristabel had already known two—rescue at the hands of the pirate Navarrone the Blue Blade and finding true love with a man only heaven itself could have blessed her with.

Thus, now
as one of the Acadians who had again abducted her slipped a rope over her wrist, a separate rope over her other, she knew she could hope for no further miracles. Still, she silently prayed for them, even as two men forced her to where two large posts were sunk into the ground apart from one another.

“How can
I
do this thing?” Richard asked. “How can
I
do this thing? You are the one keeping company with pirates, Cristabel.”

Cristabel frowned.
“Better pirates than traitors,” she could not keep from mumbling.

“Do you know what you have cost me?” Richard asked, striding toward her.

Cristabel’s terror heightened as the Acadians began to stretch her between the two posts outside the house where Trevon had so recently met with Governor Claiborne. She watched as Richard reached to his back. He seemed to struggle in removing something from the waist of his trousers. She gasped—shook her head as tears again filled her eyes at the sight of the cat-o’-nine-tails in Richard’s hand.

“I cost you a fiancé,” she told him.
“That is all. You will easily find another.”

“Well, I
will
easily find another. That is true,” he said, coming to stand before her. “But you cost me much more than the trifle of a fiancé. A woman is effortlessly replaced, Cristabel. But the same is not true concerning wealth and position.”

Cristabel knew he referred to the treasure Trevon and his crew had plundered from the
Chichester
. Yet as far as position was concerned, she did not understand him.

“Position?” she asked.
“And what have I to do with your wealth and position?”

“There was a great wealth of treasure aboard that British ship the pirate Navarrone plundered…gold, silver, gems, jewels,” he said.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Not to mention the price you would have brought. It is full obvious Navarrone the Blue Blade plundered you along with all my riches.”

“You had me abducted…delivered to the enemy!” Cristabel accused
, for she knew assuredly now it was Richard who had orchestrated her abduction—just as Trevon had begun to suspect.

“I did,” Richard admitted.
Cristabel winced as the two men tightened the ropes, stretching her arms up and out.

“You meant to have me sold,” she accused.

“Of course not, darling,” Richard said, frowning at her as if he took offense. “That is my cousin William’s trade…not mine. I meant to offer you and all the wealth aboard the
Chichester
to King George to purchase my way into the Empire and the King’s good graces—to prove my loyalty was placed where it should be…and not on these revolutionary shores.”

Cristabel cried out—grimaced as Richard’s sudden anger caused him to lash the ground with the tails of the cat.

“And now…now you have ruined me!” he shouted. “My wealth is in the hands of pirates, and I have no means to purchase my way into the British Empire! For that…you shall pay dearly, Cristabel Albay. I shall take my revenge from your flesh…just as I was led to believe the pirates had done.”

“Richard, please…I beg you, listen to me,” Cristabel began.

“Silence, wench!” he roared. “For that is what you are, are you not? A pirate’s wench?” He chuckled. “Captain Navarrone must own all the charms that are told of him indeed…if he managed to woo you into being his wench.”

“Richard…only wait…” she stammered through her tears.

“And since he has already defiled you…I want nothing from you but to see your blood spill, Cristabel,” he interrupted, however.

She winced
, trembling with fear as she saw him strike the ground with the tails of the cat once more.

“Cut her bodice at the back…and her corset stays,” Richard ordered.
Instantly, Cristabel felt the cool blade of a knife slip beneath her corset and chemise. She gasped as the knife tore through the fabric of her chemise—through her corset stays and dress. She felt the cool, moist air upon the flesh of her back and began to sob.

“Richard
, I beg you…please do not do this thing!” she cried. “I will talk with Captain Navarrone. I am certain he will return your treasure…in exchange for my life.”

“It is far too late for that, Cristabel,” Richard growled.
“Don’t you see? The British will come for me. King George will send men to assassinate me, for I have not kept my promise to him to return with riches…and you. Someone must pay for this disservice to me. Someone must know the lash of the cat, bleed, and die. I will see your flesh hang in strips from your body, Cristabel Albay…for you deserve nothing less for what you have done.”

“Only a coward would beat a woman to death for something a pirate did.”

Cristabel looked up—wept to a near frenzy at the sight of Trevon.

“Trevon!
Trevon!” she cried—nearly screamed, so frantic was she. At first, it was pure relief and hope she knew at seeing her lover there before her. He was there, Trevon—strong, handsome—and she knew he could cut Richard down as a knife through cream. Yet in the next moment, she realized he was alone. None of his crew attended him—neither Baskerville nor Fergus nor even James Kelley.

Quickly she glanced about her
, horrified when she counted full ten men attending Richard. Trevon was greatly outnumbered, and she was helpless to assist him.

“Captain Navarrone,” Richard said, smiling.
He chuckled—studied Trevon from boot to brow. “Has the pirate lover come to beg mercy for his wench then?”

“I beg mercy from no one,” Trevon growled.
“Not from presidents, kings, traitors, or cowards.”

“You lied to me that day…here…with Governor Claiborne,” Richard said.
“Did you know of the
Chichester
’s treasure then?”

Trevon’s eyes narrowed.
“I had possession of Cristabel then, yes.”

“Trevon
, please. I will not see you—” Cristabel began.

“Oh yes!” Richard exclaimed.
“Your lover has come for you, Cristabel. He has told me I should not beat a woman for something a pirate did.” Richard looked to Trevon then. “Is the pirate then willing to be flogged to save his dirty wench? Flogged to the death?”

“No!
No!” Cristabel breathed as she saw Trevon draw his cutlass and drop it to the ground—as his dagger joined it. As he then stripped himself of his shirt, tossing it to the ground as if he never meant to retrieve it again, Cristabel cried, “No, Trevon! No!”

Trevon Navarrone strode to where the villains had tied Cristabel between two posts. Baskerville and the others should find them soon. He had left word at the inn for his crew to investigate the old house where they had previously met with Governor Claiborne, for one of the serving wenches at La Petite Grenouille knew the house was owned by a man named Pelletier. She had revealed the information after having seen Trevon render Christophe unconscious. Thus, Trevon’s intuition had whispered to him that Cristabel had been taken there. He only hoped Baskerville and the others had received his message.

Trevon knew he could endure a brutal flogging with the cat
, for he had endured it before. Furthermore, this time he would die before he allowed the villain to harm someone he loved. He would die under the cat before Richard could harm Cristabel further.

Silently he prayed for Baskerville and the others to be quick
—for it would not matter if he survived the flogging or died if his crew did not arrive in time to save the woman he loved from harm.

“No, Trevon!
Please!” Cristabel cried as he moved to stand behind her.

Reaching up, Trevon used the slack in the ropes that held Cristabel’s wrists
, twisting his own wrists to stretch his arms out and above his head. Placing his chest against the tender flesh of her soft, bare shoulders and back, he silently swore to himself that not a mark would be put to her.

Richard chuckled.
“You expect me to believe you have the strength and fortitude to keep your own hands bound? That you will endure being flogged to death without being restrained?”