The Ransom (43 page)

Releasing Juliana, Alex spun to see Nichols’s ship, HMS
Viper,
coming in under topsails just forty yards off their larboard quarter. A nearby splash revealed the shot’s resting place. Gray smoke curled from one of the two swivels aimed at the
Vanity
from the warship’s prow. A warning shot.

The next one would not be.

The mutineers cheered. Alex’s men gaped at their most feared enemy, eyes wide and faces stark. Releasing Juliana, he brushed hair from her face. Terror streaked across her eyes as she gripped his hand. He gave hers a squeeze and forced himself away, shoving down the realization he’d most likely never hold her close again.

Jonas approached, his face streaked with blood and sweat. “Orders, Captain.”

Before Alex could reply, a voice blared from the frigate. Nichols’s voice, magnified and distorted by a speaking cone.

“This is the His Majesty’s Ship,
Viper
. Surrender immediately and prepare to be boarded!”

Alex’s men crowded around him, defiance and fury shoving away the fear on their faces.

“We can outrun ’em, Cap’n,” Riggs said, scratching the hair springing from his bandana. “I can ’ave main and fore up in no time.”

“An’ I can load the stern chasers faster than Spittal here can spit,” Bait declared, thumbing toward the cook.

“Do it!” Alex commanded, sending those men who weren’t guarding the prisoners across the deck and into the shrouds. Yet even before he returned his glance to Nichols’s ship, Alex knew he’d sent them on a futile mission. One more glance showed him the
Viper
’s bow tearing the sea into a wild foam and coming fast upon the
Vanity
’s stern.

“They’ll get a broadside off before we can catch the wind,” Jonas said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“And they’re perfectly positioned to rake us,” Alex added with a growl. Terror clamped every nerve—terror and anger.
Curse Larkin to his grave!

“Seems your fate has found you, after all,” the defeated mutineer boasted from where he stood pinioned by the barrels of several pistols.

Nichols’s insidious voice echoed across the water. “You have three minutes to comply, Pirate!”

Hot wind lashed over Alex, doing naught to cool the sweat streaking his back. A thousand possibilities spun in his head, none of them ending well. Above him, his meager crew sped to raise sails, while at his stern, Bait and his gun crew loaded the chasers that would make but a dent in the warship’s hull.

The ship creaked over a wave, and Alex raised his gaze to Larkin holding his bloody shoulder but grinning as if he’d just plundered a ship full of jewels.

“I’d wipe that smile off your face, Larkin, for if I decide to fight, you and your men will be blown to bits same as us.”

The grin dropped from his face, followed by a bead of sweat as he glanced toward the warship, then over to where Juliana stood. “You wouldn’t allow your lady to die, would you?” He cocked a brow.

Juliana. Brave, precious Juliana, standing where he’d left her, watching him with tremulous blue eyes and a lump in her throat. Surely Nichols had spotted her. Would he fire upon them and risk doing her harm?

Larkin, no doubt noting the direction of his gaze, answered him. “Aye, he’ll risk the lady, Captain. He wants you
that
bad.” He snorted a laugh, then winced at the pain it caused his shoulder.

“Two minutes!” the voice announced.

“They’ve run out their larboard guns, Cap’n,” Bait shouted from the stern. “Permission t’ fire?”

Alex grimaced. If they didn’t stand down, Nichols would rake them with a broadside that would wound them severely and scatter the deck with their flesh. ’Twas a suicide mission.

Hot daggers of sunlight speared him. Topsails fluttered above, snapping in the wind. The ship lurched. But it wouldn’t be enough.

“Orders, Cap’n?” one of the gun crew bellowed, desperation charging his tone.

“Better to fight than be captured!” one of his topmen shouted from above.

“I’d rather die like a pirate than dance the hempen jig!” another man announced.

Alex’s sentiments exactly. He’d always known he’d die at sea, fighting, plundering, in command of his own destiny.

“One minute!” Nichols’s voice thundered over the deck and clamped Alex’s spine like a vise.

His gaze sped to Juliana, and his choice became clear. To die, and watch her die with him, or to be imprisoned and hanged? He’d always sworn he’d rather fall on his sword than be locked up like an animal, only to then be hanged in dishonor for all to see. But not if that meant the death of the woman he loved. She was an innocent in all this madness, caught in the web of betrayal and wickedness.

And all because of him.

He’d rather be hanged a thousand times then see one hair on her head singed.

“Cap’n?” Bait shouted, but when Alex didn’t answer, he ordered his men to fire on the upsweep.

“Belay that!” Alex thundered across the deck. “Lower our ensign!”

Curses flew at him like grapeshot. Defiant scowls faced him. Men continued in their tasks.

“Do you wish to die?” Alex leapt up the quarterdeck ladder and clung to a line. Wind whipped around him as he shouted across the brig. “To fight when one has a chance, even slim, is bravery. To fight when death is assured is foolishness. Much can happen between now and the noose, gentlemen. Who knows? Perchance Lieutenant Governor Beeston will grant us pardon.” Alex had heard he was soft on pirates.

“Or we kin escape,” one of his men agreed, rubbing his neck.

As the men studied the oncoming frigate, more “ayes” tumbled over the deck.

Still a few of his men defied him. “I’m not fer havin’ the crows peck me flesh!” one of them shouted, approaching Alex, hand on the pommel of his cutlass.

Alex leapt to the main deck and drew his sword. “Will you fight me now?” He swept the point toward their enemy. “While the frigate blows us to bits? Come now, use your head, if you’ve still brains within it.” Alex stood his ground. “I said lower the ensign.” He swept a hard glare toward Riggs. The man backed down, and Riggs finally complied.

Sheaving his cutlass, Alex’s eyes sped to Juliana. Perspiration glistened on her forehead. Golden hair tumbled to her waist and danced in the wind. Admiration shone from her eyes—warming every inch of him—before worry darkened her brow. For him? He would have thought she’d have been relieved to be spared a battle at sea. Regardless, he drew a deep breath. Nichols would not allow Larkin and his men to touch her. She’d finally be safe.

♥♥♥

Juliana paced the tiny cabin that was no bigger than a wardrobe. Two steps forward, two steps back. “Ouch!” Her toe throbbed, and she glanced down to see she’d bumped into the side of her bunk. Yet the pain was naught compared to the despair in her heart. No sooner had Nichols’s ship come alongside the
Vanity
, than he’d ordered his men to bring her aboard. Her last glance at Alex had been of him being harshly clamped in irons by one of Nichols’s marines. But his eyes had been on her. He’d smiled as if to reassure her all would be well.

But she knew better.

Since then, she’d heard the pounding of several boots and thudding of feet above, along with the shout of orders and the thunder of sails as they glutted with wind. The ship had lurched, and water purled against the hull. They were underway. To where, she had no idea.

One thought kept penetrating her fear. Alex had sacrificed himself for her. As his men argued to fight, she had seen the agony lining his face at the thought of surrender. He was not the type of man to submit to anyone. Not the type of man to quit, to give up, and hand himself over to be locked behind bars. Yet, he had done just that. For her. To save her from injury. To keep her safe. The thought caused tears to fill her eyes.

A knock rapped the door, followed by the clank of a lock, and a thin man in a crisp blue uniform poked his head inside.

“The captain requests your company for tea.”

Wiping her face, Juliana pursed her lips. She’d like nothing more than to reply that he could drown himself in his tea for all she cared, but she was desperate for news of Alex, so she allowed the steward to lead her to the main cabin.

The room was clean, efficient, and as dull and uninteresting as its owner. The furniture was wooden, plain, and practical: a desk, three chairs, tidily-made bunk, and a cupboard filled with books and navigational instruments all in perfect order. No rug softened the hardwood floor, no paintings or tapestries hung on the wall, no exotic trinkets from foreign ports were on display.

A tea set, complete with cakes of some kind, two floral-painted china cups, and a silver-plated pot sat upon a mahogany desk, from behind which Nichols rose, straightened his blue service coat, and smiled. Afternoon sunlight filtering through stern windows behind him haloed his white periwig in gold. Circling the desk, he moved toward her, arms extended. “You poor dear. What a horrific ordeal. Kidnapped by pirates.” He attempted to take her hands, but she stepped away from his advance.

“Yet it seems I am kidnapped once again,” she retorted.

Halting, he studied her in confusion. “Hardly, Miss Dutton. I have saved you. Alas, I fear you must be suffering from shock.”

“I assure you, I am quite well.”

Sunlight glinted off the gold buttons lining his jacket as a frown weighed upon his lips. “You can’t imagine how horrified I was when I saw you standing on that filthy pirate’s ship.”

“You threatened to blow me from the water, if I recall.”

His thick eyebrows collided. “Blow that fiend, the so-called Pirate Earl, from the water, you mean. Alas, I had no choice. I’m under strict orders to capture all pirates upon these waters, and I could hardly allow the greatest pirate of all to slip through my hands.” His expression softened. “I would have done everything in my power to avoid hurting you.”

“I am sure.” She kept her tone sharp.

He shifted his stance. “I hope you find your quarters comfortable?”

The ship canted, and he reached out for her, but she stepped back and caught her balance. “Quarters or prison? For I seem to be kept locked within.”

“’Tis for your safety, Miss Dutton. Besides, you won’t have to endure it much longer. We should be in Port Royal by dusk.” He gestured toward the tea. “Won’t you join me in a light repast? Surely you must be famished. My cook is quite good. I believe you’ll find the mango cakes to your liking.”

She remained in place. “Where is Alex?”

“To whom do you refer? The Pirate Earl or Lord Munthrope?” He snickered.

“Both.”

“He and his vermin are in the hold with the rest of the rats.” Turning his back, he marched to his desk.

“I wish to see him immediately.”

He spun around. “Alack, the man who kidnapped you? And God knows did what else to you?” His lip curled in disgust as he perused her.

“He didn’t touch me, Captain. He was a gentleman.” She lifted her chin. “He always has been, both as a lord and a pirate.”

“Hmm.” His eyes narrowed. “As I said, you are no doubt suffering from shock, you poor dear. Please sit.” He gestured toward a chair. She didn’t move.

He leaned back against his desktop. “I had no idea you would follow the man to the trap I set for him. I do apologize for that.”

The ship creaked and groaned over another wave, and she laid a hand on the back of the chair for support. “I had to see for myself. I must admit, I hardly believed you spoke the truth.”

“He fooled us all, Miss Dutton.” He gave her a look of understanding, even pleading.

“Nevertheless, I wish to speak to him.”

“Not possible. I would never allow a lady to endure the company of such reproachful creatures, even for a moment.”

“I have endured the company of such
reproachful creatures
for more than a day and have survived unscathed.”

He studied her as a surgeon would someone with a contagious disease. “Survived, I’ll allow. Though I fear you have not come away with your reason, Juliana. Your request to speak to that pirate is proof.”

“Miss Dutton,” she corrected him curtly, biting down her rising frustration. Captain Nichols meant well. True concern burned in his eyes, softened his voice. But when would the man accept she could never return his affections? Especially not when he had all but delivered Alex to the noose.
The noose!
She could hardly think of it without her head growing light.

“There, there, now, dear.” Nichols rushed to her and took her hand before she had a chance to move away. “I see merely the mention of the vile man distresses you. You are safe now, Juliana. Don’t give the rogue another thought. Anon, you shall be back in your own home, in your own bed, under the protection of your loving father.” He caressed her fingers and shifted sincere eyes between hers. “A lady such as yourself has no need to concern herself with the affairs of men. Wars, pirates, business—these things are far too taxing for your delicate constitution. By tomorrow, you’ll return to a life of leisure and free from worry, as a lady of your stature deserves.”