7 Family Legends
Chapter Seven
Family Legends
L ocke raced after Miss Blackthorne, kicking his horse, Gambit, faster toward the wood. His eyes searched for any sign of Ellsworth. The man was already here. Somewhere, he stood hidden, waiting.
Locke forced Gambit to slow. There was no turning back on this now. The knowledge of what he was about to do already had his heart thrumming with regret. He was not a ruthless shark, as he’d once believed. Knowledge of what was to come tugged at him. No. He set his jaw. The deal had already been struck.
He had to get that sapphire back, no matter what the cost.
Despite a voice that begged him to stop her, warn her, he shoved it down.
His mind focused on the need to act first, feel second—if at all. But for too long, smuggling and the solitude that had come with it had been his life. He had never grown numb to it. Recently, the sting of loneliness felt sharper, especially alongside her.
When all this was over, when the sapphire was recovered and returned to Pierce, its rightful owner, he knew the life he would return to. A life in which he hadn’t a single friend, only enemies.
Locke ordered Gambit to gain speed.
The trees grew denser, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. “Miss Blackthorne? ”
A thud broke out, sending a shower of dead leaves fluttering in its wake. About fifty yards away, two men had pulled Miss Blackthorne from her horse. Like hungry beasts ready to devour their prey, they lunged at her.
Dread stabbed Locke in the gut. He had brought her to Ellsworth himself, but now he wanted to pull her away. She was an innocent. If he did nothing, he feared this moment would haunt him always, forever on his conscience. What peace might he have then?
Yanking the reins, he brought Gambit to a rearing halt.
A man twice the governess’s size seized her in his arms. He flashed a toothless smile and nuzzled his dirt-lined face into her neck, undoubtedly whispering unspeakables. Miss Blackthorne jerked away, her expression filling Locke with swift and utter anguish.
If the man wanted to see another day, he would release her. But at Locke’s approach, the man—likely from the booming slums of London—did not so much as pause. He ran a knife back and forth across her dress, catching and pulling the fabric.
His companion, a skinny lad of no more than sixteen, whipped out his own blade and pressed it over her cheek. Miss Blackthorne’s eyes, shiny with desperation, flashed to Locke.
He couldn’t deny her call for help for a moment longer. He had to stop this now. And since the type of men Ellsworth had hired were not likely to give into his demands, he had to go with a more violent alternative.
Within a matter of seconds, Locke dropped from his horse and drove his fist into the first face he could find, then into the next.
Miss Blackthorne grabbed on to him.
“Your horse…” She clearly expected for him to pull her away from the madness. She clung so close, he could feel every shiver, hear every grasp. But when he failed to act, confusion and worry washed over her features.
“What the devil?” The younger lad came back to his senses and staggered up.
“Mr. Locke!” Miss Blackthorne shook his arm as if to wake him, but he didn’t budge.
“This bloke ain’t here to help ye, fool!” The other accomplice wiped his face, throwing a spray of blood to the ground. “You oughta fear ’im more than us.”
Among lowly men like these, Locke was not surprised these men revered his pirate past. Whether or not that served to instill some respect had yet to be seen.
Miss Blackthorne loosened her grip and stepped back. She stared at him, not blinking There was no doubting his part in this. She had had a low opinion of him from the start and now always would.
“Giving you trouble, is she?”
At the sound of Ellsworth’s voice, Miss Blackthorne froze in place.
“Rather, your men are,” Locke said. “You agreed there would be no blood. These men have knives.”
“We couldn’t risk her getting away. These Blackthornes, they’re full of tricks.”
“Two men against one woman and you thought knives necessary?”
“She kicked and elbowed me, I’ll ’ave you know.” The younger lad gripped his side.
“In any case, she seems fine to me. Just as beautiful as ever.” Ellsworth craned his neck to get a better view. He even went so far as to brush the back of his hand along her face. Locke expected her to shiver, or at least back away, but she clenched her teeth, her previous fear replaced by some fierce disgust.
Ellsworth, however, didn’t seem to notice. He turned back to his men, pain and embarrassment still reddening their faces.
“There’s no need for knives, is there?” Ellsworth asked the governess.
“Just get to the whole of it,” she barked. “How, exactly, do you expect me to help your struggling business this time? With my limited funds, I can’t even imagine.”
“Help? You think I’m asking for help?” He widened his stance and crossed his arms.
“How often did you seek out my brother? How often did you grovel for his mercy?”
“Your brother was so drunk half the time, it proved less useful than talking to a wall.” Ellsworth sneered with a ferocity equal to her own. The same way men looked at one another before going in for the kill.
And Miss Blackthorne did not even flinch. Her face remained hard and unyielding.
“Why don’t you tell her our plan, Locke? Why don’t you tell her how we plan to take back what has always been ours?”
Locke hesitated, unable to find the words. He saw only her angry, unblinking stare.
“Go ahead,” Ellsworth pressed. “You’re a ruthless pirate, aren’t you? Strike fear into her heart! Have your revenge!”
Locke winced. So the truth was out. The once-elusive Ethan Locke was elusive no more. He could fade his tan and hide his tattoos, but he could not escape his past. No matter how much he wanted to shake free of it.
Miss Blackthorne went quite pale. Her mouth contorted, but no words came. If she had not sensed true danger before, she seemed to sense it all around her now.
And to imagine, he had secrets far worse than this one. A secret that had left him constant and unchanged for twenty-six years. A secret she would never be able to comprehend.
The danger of such a secret, he could feel now.
“On the other hand, I think I shall take the privilege…” Ellsworth cleared his throat. “You see, Miss Blackthorne, that former estate of yours contains a fortune that belongs to myself and my associate here. An d we’ll go to any means to get it.”
“He nearly owns the estate now.” Miss Blackthorne turned to Locke, her voice shaky. “Take it. What do you want with me ?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” Ellsworth approached with power in each step.
Despite the lurch in the pit of his stomach, Locke decided it best not to act. They had some time before the task was accomplished. Even if every fiber of his being screamed to separate the villain and the lady, he had to restrain himself.
Ellsworth reached into his waistcoat and handed the parchment to Miss Blackthorne.
“What’s this?” She opened the letter with its already sliced seal. “This is my father’s writing.” The governess shot Locke a look. “Written weeks before his death.”
Ellsworth motioned her to read on. The effect of the letter was instant. Her eyes glazed over as they flew across the sheet.
Locke could only imagine what the words meant to her. He had seen the alternative will betrothing a particular key to her brother himself. As soon as Ellsworth had revealed it that morning, Locke had read it a dozen times, eager to decode the secrets that would lead to the vault, but in the letter, he could find no clues. His only hope was that Miss Blackthorne could.
Her face grew more somber. Then a realization seemed to dawn on her. She turned to Ellsworth.
“You did kill him,” she uttered in a low voice that was quickly gaining volume. “All these years, I’ve suspected it. I drove myself mad with the knowledge of it—without any proof, any real indication but my imaginings. But you did it for this, didn’t you?” The parchment shook violently in her hand. “For this!”
Locke choked back some surprise. Ellsworth had confessed his hatred of the family, but not this. Though Locke yearned to ask more, he kept quiet, anxiously observing .
“I did what I had to. Just as your brother did when he undercut our prices.” Ellsworth drove his cane into the ground. “I see no difference.”
“So this was why you were searching my father’s office.” Miss Blackthorne directed her anger at Locke now. Only then did he notice the tears glistening on her cheeks. “You were looking for this key. Do you mean to kill me to get it?”
Robbed of his ability to speak, Locke shook his head.
She did not believe him. Her eyes fell back to the letter, as if seeing her father’s ghost risen from the grave. “What am I supposed to make of this?”
“You really are daft.” Ellsworth laughed. “Can’t you see? The legends are true. Hidden somewhere within the manor lies gold, rubies, diamonds—a treasure trove!”
“That child’s tale?” Mae crossed her arms.
“What tale?”
At Locke’s approach, Miss Blackthorne gave a look worse than the one she had given Ellsworth, as if he had slapped her across the face.
Though the same dread returned three-fold, Locke straightened, immediately disposing of his feelings of remorse. Why the devil must he care so much? Yes, she was tempting, but that would not put the sapphire back in his hands or Pierce off his heels. Nor did it negate the crimes of her father.
Like Ellsworth, he had let his anger simmer for years. His only comfort being the revenge he hoped to enact someday. And now was his chance. He could inflict his vengeance and utter ruin to a Blackthorne. But why her? Anyone but her…
“Excuse him,” Ellsworth said. “He pays little heed to our folklore.”
The stories, however, did not surprise him. He could imagine that any family that went back as far as hers must have been ripe with legends.
“The local townspeople were always wrongly questioning my family’s wealth,” Miss Blackthorne explained with an exasperated sigh. “Rather than attribute it to hard work, they preferred to make tales. My ancestor stole jewels from a king or the one about the ancient burial site stuffed with gold. All of it hidden away in some vault. It’s ridiculous. If there were a fortune hiding somewhere, I would know.”
“Yes, you do know,” Ellsworth said. “I imagine you know many of the home’s secrets: the hidden compartments, tunnels, doorways—much of which are still kept secret from the Rosewoods, the servants, everyone…”
Mae rolled her eyes. “Of course there are tunnels. The manor is the oldest in the county. Built during far more dangerous times when there was need to escape persecution, sieges, invasions… My mother even used them to store wine.”
“And a secret fortune?” Ellsworth’s face pinched.
“If my father left a fortune, William would have told me.”
“It exists.” Ellsworth persisted. “That very letter is proof!”
“It proves nothing. There’s no knowing what the key leads to—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Locke bit back his growing frustration. “Only a Blackthorne can unravel your family’s clues. And unfortunately, you’re the only one left.”
Terror flashed anew over the woman’s features. She was shivering again. “Then you will never find it. My father left everything to William and he is dead.” She turned to Ellsworth. “You killed him, or don’t you remember?”
Locke fought to keep his face unchanged. Ellsworth was truly the lowest of villains, the type of scum he didn’t mind killing himself.
Guilt swallowed him up again. Whole this time.
Miss Blackthorne had altered entirely. That pained look, the new hardness in her voice—it affected him. He wanted to erase it, to reach out and bring back that bold, blithe spirit that had taken strange control of him since their acquaintance. It was still there, just far away.
Miss Blackthorne yelped, forcing Locke to attention .
Ellsworth had beckoned his men forward, one of them taking her arm.
“ Wait ,” Locke commanded. “What about our offer?”
Miss Blackthorne pulled herself free. “What offer?”
“For your assistance and your silence, we’re offering a third.”
“A third? As in a third of the fortune?” She sniffed. “Do you think to play me for a fool?”
“We could take the alternative and force you. I find this simpler.”
“Take the deal.” Ellsworth’s voice strained with desperation. “You’ll get nothing better than this.”
“I’m giving you the chance to escape,” Locke reasoned. “You hate this life. Admit it.”
Despite the doubt that flickered in the governess’s eyes, Locke was certain of her acquiescence. Even if she went to the constable, she had to know no one would believe such a wild tale—especially from a lowly governess like herself. Not to mention the fact that he, the so-called criminal, was soon to marry an heiress of the estate.
If she wanted her old life back, any freedom at all, she had to agree. It was this or nothing.
The seconds pressed on. She glanced between the two of them, then looked off into the distance. There was no other way, Locke wanted to reiterate. No other possible escape from her false life here. But judging by the intense wrinkle between her brows, she was proving stubborn. He could not expect concord yet.
He put a finger to his chin and began to pace. “These so-called ‘tales’ you spoke of, did they happen to concern a vault?”
“If I don’t answer…” Miss Blackthorne swallowed. “What will you do?”
“Oh, come. It’s an easy enough question. We’re only talking rumor.”
“Well, of course there were rumors. Suspected locations, even.”
“And the most likely of those locations? ”
“This is ridiculous. This treasure trove doesn’t exist!”
So that was her concern. Locke cursed. He had no choice now. He had to go with the alternative.
“Still have my timepiece?” He moved close, looming over her.
Miss Blackthorne stammered for words.
“You must be good with your hands to have snatched it so surreptitiously. And from my own front pocket, no less.”
“Don’t forget Locke is in the family’s favor now,” Ellsworth added.
“But—But, what if it turns out that the fortune does not even—”
“Then you’d like a life to go back to, wouldn’t you?” Locke struggled to summon the devious smile the statement called for. With what little she had, save for her post, cornering her had been too easy.
“With or without your station, you’ll help us. Now tell me about these suspected locations. A guess. That’s all I want.” Everything rested on her. She had to know something.
“The western wing, I suppose,” Miss Blackthorne finally answered, deflated. “A large cellar near the west courtyard has been abandoned for years. But you can’t possibly think—”
“It will do. You’ll meet us there at midnight.”
“Just one moment!” Ellsworth erupted. “Don’t tell me you’re going to release her. She’ll run!”
Damn it , Locke almost said aloud. He had hardly finished. He let out a calming breath and turned to Miss Blackthorne. “So much as pack your things and it’ll only cement your crime. Second window from the left, correct?”
“You’re despicable.” Mae spit, her voice shaking with emotion.
Locke could not argue that. To retrieve the sapphire, he had little choice.
“Now, now,” Ellsworth taunted. “Try to be a little pleased. You’ll still have your third, remember?”
Locke itched to use his fists and shut him up. If he made his hatred for her any more obvious, she’d never believe they were going to split the profits. Despite their threats, they needed to act like allies now and establish a kind of trust with Miss Blackthorne. Otherwise, she would lead them astray, send them looking for clues that didn’t exist just to stretch time. Locke was tired of waiting. How could Ellsworth not see that?
“Come.” Locke motioned her toward Gambit. “Best get you back to the estate before the Rosewoods return.”
Spooked, her horse had likely returned to the stables by now. Looking around, Miss Blackthorne seemed to realize this too.
“Fine,” she agreed in a hard, cold voice.
Locke felt some relief at this small concession, but as he gripped her hand to help her atop his horse, pity crept over him. He reminded himself he hadn’t a choice. If he wanted his freedom, he had to recover the stone. Pierce would soon have his throat if he did not retrieve it. He doubted the sapphire or the blue elixir could save him from that.
*
With each gallop of the horse, a bolt of fear coursed through Mae. She was surprised she didn’t fall off altogether.
Mr. Locke—no, Locke , she corrected herself. A man like him didn’t deserve her respect anymore. She didn’t think he ever had.
At the mere mention of his notorious profession, she was finally beginning to see him for who he really was. His tattoos; the dark, unfashionable way he dressed; the angry scar above his left brow; not to mention the wild look in his eye… She was in the hands of a bloody pirate. The cutthroat, evil sort of men she had only read about in novels. She should have guessed.
As if he hadn’t just brought her close to death, he held her tightly in front of him, almost protectively, so she wouldn’t slip. She hated that she could feel the warmth of his back behind her and the in-and-out of his breath .
A sob crept up her throat, straining for release. But rather than give him any more satisfaction, she swallowed her pain. What could tears do to ease her distress now? With no relatives, she was at the mercy of these men.
“You need not fear me.” Locke slowed the horse to a walk.
Mae started. How could she not? Even if he had pulled her away from those vulgar men earlier, he had also led her straight to them. Ellsworth was ruthless. He would not let anyone stand in the way of what he wanted. Helping them would simply delay her demise. No, her only hope was to give the devils up to the law. A plan that could easily backfire, thanks to that damn watch.
“You will not be harmed during our search,” Locke said. “I promise you.”
“That’s laughable.”
If he expected her to feel comforted, she felt nothing of the sort, only suspicion. Everything he had ever said and done had been carefully planned. She had no doubt of that. Even his flirtations had been a lie. Her face flamed. She had been so easily fooled.
“I give you my word,” he added, honor and pride ripe in his voice.
“Your word?” Mae laughed. “What good is the word of a pirate? That is who you are, isn’t it? Admit it.”
“Fine. I’m not ashamed. I was a captain once and a well-respected one, at that.”
Mae shook her head, incredulous. He spoke of piracy as though it were nothing. He wasn’t a law clerk, banker, or clergyman, for heaven’s sake. He was a murderous pirate. The word alone was enough to rattle her.
“What kind of pirate promises safety?” Mae asked. “Why, you must have found God.”
She felt his body tense. “I may not be a saint, Miss Blackthorne, but I’m no liar.”
“And things of material consequence do not sway you, either?” Remembering those self-righteous words of his, Mae felt her fury rise. The statement was so far from the truth.
“I’ll have you know that a third of what lies in your family vault belongs to me. I’m simply retrieving it.”
“Really. You cannot expect me to believe you.” Least of all this little deal of his.
“I do have some honor,” he said. “Enough to keep you safe.”
“Your kind has no honor.”
“Perhaps it’s my one weakness. Even heroes have flaws, you know.”
“ Please. ”
He was wasting his breath. She would pay no heed to his words. She had to keep on her guard.
Mae searched the horizon. They were still headed east through the moors. In less than a mile, they would be back within the safety of the estate. Feeling some comfort in that fact, she reconsidered how she might tell Mr. Rosewood and the constable Locke and Ellsworth’s plan. He might believe her. No, of course they would. She could picture it now, the shocked faces of the servants, the squeals of fear from Miss Rosewood and Miss Lenore.
“How long do you expect it to take?” She tried to glean more damning evidence.
“To find my fortune? Not long. If it does—”
“The manor will be as good as home.”
Mae remembered his convenient, sham of an engagement to Miss Rosewood. “How clever. What then?” Her heart sank for Miss Rosewood’s sake. “Did you plan to disappear?”
“That’s likely to happen, yes. The fortune does belong to me.”
“All of it?”
“Most.”
“Again, I am to believe the word of a pirate.”
“Excuse me? ”
“I captain my own ship. Captain. Chief Commander. Either is a fine enough title for me.”
Mae scoffed. “Whatever you call yourself, you are nothing but a scoundrel with rivers and rivers of blood on your hands.”
“‘Rivers’?” Locke glanced back at her. “Nah. Most are quick to surrender and death was often avoided.”
“And if they choose to fight?”
“Then we forced our way to their captain and took him for ransom.”
Fear pricked its way into Mae’s heart. This man was merciless. Who knew how many men had suffered at his hands?
“It’s only a matter of time before you hang.” Justice would be her mission now. She had to find a way.
Locke merely laughed, defiant even at the prospect of death.
“They could never harm me,” he said with surprising confidence. Perhaps it was true. Withstanding the cooks’ supernatural tales, the man seemed nothing short of dangerous.
He flicked the reins, sending the horse into a faster gallop. The villain was close enough that she could feel his pulse and breathe in his pinewood scent… There was no avoiding it.
By the time they had returned to the estate, it was already late afternoon. The early spring air had taken on an icy chill. Locke dismounted first, then just like that night of the storm, he offered Mae his hand. The contact seared her fingers like hot coals. This time, she didn’t thank him. She clenched her arms tightly across her chest as he mounted the horse again.
“Till midnight,” he said meaningfully. Then, with one last tunneling stare, Locke reared up his horse and ventured back into the moors.