Chapter Twenty-Five
“Just a little farther.” Josephine ran her hand down the soaking-wet flank of her mount. “If you only knew how kind Abigail is, you would understand.”
They had pushed the horses to their limits for over an hour, alternating between a brisk trot and ground eating canter.
Foam flecked their bits and their sides heaved, but slowing was not an option.
All the stories she’d heard of Thorne, every heartless tale, and now she found herself in the middle of one.
Her heart constricted with each pounding stride, bringing her closer to…
To what, she didn’t know. A nightmare already come to pass? Face to face with the pirate again?
She took a steadying breath. Don’t give up. Isaac had told her as long as they were alive, there was hope. So she held onto that, clinging to the words like a lifeline fraying in a storm—thin, uncertain, but still holding.
The humid night air had dried her clothing to a damp cling, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her skin with every movement.
Sweat mingled with salt and dirt, itching along her neck and arms. She’d long given up on her hair—most of it had worked free from her braid, curling in wild, frizzy tufts that clung to her cheeks and tangled at her nape.
Finally, Isaac pointed ahead, his voice tight. “Their drive.”
He kicked his gelding into a canter, its hooves tearing up the earth in a spray of dirt.
Josephine clutched the reins, her fingers slick with sweat.
She pressed her heels to her mare’s sides once.
Twice. The horse let out a labored snort, then lurched forward in an uneven gait.
It would have to be enough. One last stretch. One last hope.
The trees blurred past in dark streaks. Her thundering pulse drowned out the pounding hooves beneath her as they turned through the gate. The house came into view—pale in the moonlight, shadowed and still.
“Wait!” Isaac yanked back on his reins. His gelding reared slightly, then stopped. Dust clouded around them.
Josephine mirrored him, and her mare skidded. She gripped the saddle horn to stay seated. “Wha—”
He jerked a finger to his lips, his other hand pointing toward the porch.
A cluster of figures stood in the shadows.
Her stomach dropped.
Too late. The pirates were already here.
She frowned as heavy pounding floated through the night air. Only a handful of silhouettes, fewer than she expected. Thorne must be awfully sure of his men’s skills. The front door opened, light spilling out to reveal their forms in sharp relief.
Her heart soared. “It’s Samantha and Christian!”
Isaac squinted through the haze of dust. “By damned, you’re right.”
He urged his horse forward and she followed, racing up the drive. Gravel flew as the sweat-drenched horses tossed their heads. A moment later, they jerked to a stop in front of the fountain.
The ring of steel floated through the courtyard as the group on their porch drew their swords.
Isaac jumped to the ground. “For heaven’s sake, put your weapons down.”
He helped Josephine down, her feet barely touching the ground before they were rushing up the steps.
“Bloody hell, am I glad to see you.” Relief laced Christian’s voice, but his gaze flicked behind them. “I don’t want to ask how much time we have, do I?”
Isaac set a hand on his shoulder. “Minutes. At best. Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“We went ahead of them, they’ll be here soon. Maybe a quarter hour.”
Isaac didn’t respond, his eyes already narrowing toward the door, where a flustered butler stood, blocking their way. “Let us pass.”
The butler sputtered something about the hour being improper for visitors, his voice high and uncertain. As he rambled, Samantha yanked Josephine into a quick hug, the warmth of it a brief comfort. “You’re safe, thank God.”
They turned as the butler shouted. Isaac had twisted his hands in his collar and yanked the man out onto the porch. With the doorway cleared, they all surged inside.
“Ross!” Isaac bellowed. He released the butler, whom he had dragged back in with him. “If you value your employer’s life at all, you will wake him and his daughter immediately.”
A door banged open somewhere upstairs. “What the hell is going on? I’ll have you all arrested for this!” Abigail’s father stormed down the stairs in his nightshirt, the hem flapping around his bare ankles, hair disheveled and face flushed with indignation.
“No time to explain, Ross, but you must leave immediately. Captain Thorne and his men are on their way here right now.”
The man scoffed. “What the hell do I care about a pirate?”
Abigail appeared at the top of the steps with her arm hugged around her waist. “What’s going on, papa?”
“Nothing to worry yourself over, dear. Go back to bed.”
“Abigail!” Samantha’s shout made her friend’s eyes open wide.
“Samantha?” She hurried down the steps. “Josephine?”
Samantha spun to face her father. “You must go to New Orleans. Find my uncle. He’ll be able to help.”
Mr. Ross shook his head. “This is preposterous. I’m not letting some blasted pirate scare me from my home.”
Isaac stepped forward with a growl. “Thorne is not any pirate, you fool.”
“Are you saying you men are incapable of fighting him off?” Ross laughed. “That the United States government can’t even handle one pirate? This is absurd.”
Isaac grabbed the man’s nightshirt and jerked him forward until they were nose to nose.
“Listen to me real close. Thorne has an entire ship full of mercenary pirates. We’ll be outnumbered ten to one.
He’s likely minutes behind us, maybe fewer.
When he gets here, the first thing he’s going to do after overpowering us is slit your daughter’s throat in front of you. ”
Abigail let out a whimper and Josephine squeezed her hand. Mr. Ross opened and closed his mouth as the color drained from his face.
Samantha took Abigail’s other hand. “If you won’t take her to safety, I will. Come on, Abigail, let’s quickly grab some things.” She tugged her toward the stairs and Josephine followed.
“I… You…” Mr. Ross took a shaky step after them. “If you really think it’s necessary, I will go. But we need to change, and properly pack.”
Christian pulled out a pocket watch. “You have exactly five minutes to gather what you can carry. I have a wagon ready behind your kitchen. Get in, and cover yourselves with the blanket. The driver will take you out the servant’s entrance and deliver you to Augusta.
You’ll need to secure a carriage from there.
Do not linger. Thorne will follow you once he’s done with us. ”
“Go!” Isaac’s barked command made Josephine jump and she rushed up the stairs with Samantha and Abigail.
Samantha threw open the door to Abigail’s bedroom and flung a satchel onto the floor. “Only what fits in here,” she snapped, voice sharp with urgency. “Jewelry, silver—anything you can use to trade for supplies along the way.”
Abigail stood frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes wide, lips parted, chest heaving like a startled doe. Samantha grabbed her shoulders. “Snap out of it.”
In a daze, Abigail turned to her vanity and pulled open a drawer with trembling fingers. “My jewelry’s in here.”
Josephine hurried over and began scooping handfuls of glittering bracelets and gemstone-studded necklaces into the satchel.
Gold clinked against silver, strands of pearls tangling with brooches and rings as she hurried.
Snatching up the lantern, she pushed through the door into Abigail’s dressing room.
Rows of dresses lined the walls, silks and muslins in every color. How could she possibly choose?
She didn’t. With a frustrated huff, she grabbed the nearest two gowns and flung them over her arm. She hooked a pair of soft kid leather boots with her fingers and turned back, skirts brushing her legs. As she knelt beside the bag to shove the clothes inside, a shrill squawk made her head jerk up.
Lola.
The parrot blinked at her from her perch in the corner of the room, feathers puffed, eyes gleaming. Josephine’s throat tightened. “No time,” she whispered. “Later.”
“Time’s up, let’s go.” Isaac’s bellow echoed up the stairs and the girls hurried out into the hall. The door to Mr. Ross’s room hung open, the glow of a lantern casting shadows on the wall.
Samantha pushed Abigail forward. “Josephine, take her downstairs.” She flipped her dagger out and ran into the room. “Mr. Ross, you need to leave.”
A muffled curse reached them as they rushed down the stairs, dragging the heavy bag behind them. Abigail twisted to look over her shoulder and tripped, nearly sending them both tumbling down.
“Damn it, you she devil!”
A moment later, Mr. Ross appeared at the top of the steps, with two large bags slung over his shoulders.
His face had turned a bright shade of red.
Samantha stood behind him with her blade pointed between his shoulders.
Before he took a step, the crash of breaking glass shattered the air around them.
Someone had broken a window in the parlor.
Abigail screamed as another window shattered.
Isaac drew his sword. “Get them out back. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”
Josephine grabbed Abigail’s wrist. “Come on!”
Samantha had already seized Mr. Ross by the elbow, dragging the stunned man through the servants’ hallway.
The corridor was narrow and dark, lit only by a single lantern casting shifting shadows on the walls.
Their quick steps echoed in the silence, the faint creak of floorboards beneath their feet punctuated by more breaking glass behind them.
“This way!” Samantha hissed as they burst through the back door.
The humid night air slammed into them, wrapping around their bodies like a damp cloak.
Josephine followed, her heart pounding in her chest. The darkened yard stretched ahead, the moon casting an eerie halo around them as they rushed to the waiting wagon.