Chapter 14
“Wherein a lady may be saved and is none too pleased about it.”
Henri frowned. Her brain felt as though the world had been tipped upside down and everything she had understood had been shaken and upended with it.
The pirate, the wicked corsair with a reputation for thievery and seduction, was trying to save her.
That in itself was ... quite unbelievable.
There was a gnawing uncertainty in her heart that told her she didn’t really want to be saved .
.. This fact was shocking, and possibly not so far out of character as she might have wished to believe.
“But then ... if that is true, could he not help you too?”
She watched as Lars ... Lawrence shook his head. He smiled but there was an underlying sadness to it she wanted to understand.
“He’s a good man, but he can’t perform miracles.
” She saw a shadow enter his eyes and knew the past was stalking him once again.
“I’m not sure he’d even want to,” he added, as though talking to himself and then, with sudden anxiety in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t blame him,” he said, as if knowing she would and wanting to exonerate the man.
She felt the solid warmth of his hand, as it was still holding hers, and she gave it a slight squeeze, hoping the intimacy of her touch might make him confide in her. “Who is he? Who is he to you?”
He shook his head, and she knew she would not be granted her wish. “Someone I once knew.”
She had no opportunity to question him further as there was a bang on the door. He released her hand and a moment later, Mousy stuck his head around the door.
“Ye need to see this, Cap’n.”
He was out the door before she could utter another word and she was left alone. She shivered. His departure seemed to have robbed her of the heat he had brought, and she felt suddenly cold and sick, and very alone. What was she doing? What in the name of heaven was she doing?
If there really was someone on that ship who could take her back home, back to her life, then she should grab the opportunity with both hands.
But even if what he said was true, how was he proposing to get her to him?
Henri doubted that the plight of one girl would weigh very heavily on the shoulders of a man who had been sent to hunt down a pirate ship.
She could only imagine that whoever was commanding The Revenge had once been his friend.
She imagined two young boys and the way life may have conspired to send one on the right path, and one on the wrong.
How must it feel to him to see his friend hunting him down to send him to his death?
She felt the slide of ice down her back as it occurred to her just how he might get her to The Revenge. He would give himself up.
Her heart felt as though it had lodged somewhere in her throat, and she scrambled up, snatching her pelisse and pulling it on before she ran out of the cabin and on deck to find Lawrence.
She turned and climbed the steps to the quarter deck where he was standing with Mousy.
“She’s damn fast,” the big man was saying, shaking his head.
Lawrence smiled, and she thought she saw pride in his eyes. “Yes, she is.”
“So why the devil hasn’t she fired on us?
” Mousy demanded and they both watched as Lawrence began to pace.
“She’s more’n capable of runnin’ rings around this ship,” Mousy continued as his captain’s frown increased.
“I’ve been keepin’ ‘er at bay but she’s jus’ shadowin’ us.
We make a move, and she does too but shows no sign of wantin’ to take us.
Like she jus’ wants us to know she’s there. ”
Lawrence suddenly stopped in his tracks and spun around to stare at Henri.
“Why did you come and find me?” he demanded.
Henri started in surprise, taken aback by the fierce tone of his voice.
“Because I need to speak with you, about what you have planned.”
He looked perplexed for a moment and then shook his head. “Not now!” he said, clearly impatient. “The other night, when you sought me out at the Nag’s Head, why did you come? I know you needed money, but what for?”
Henri flushed, and her eyes drifted to Mousy.
Remembering what she’d done was humiliating enough without explaining it in front of anyone else.
With a huff of annoyance that seemed to mean he understood her reluctance, he grasped her by the wrist and towed her down the steps, pulling her back into his cabin.
“Explain!” he demanded once he’d shut the door.
She bristled at the tone of his voice. “I really don’t think ...”
“Miss Morton,” he said, his voice cool and hard, and dispelling any romantic ideas she may have been harbouring that he cared for her.
“I have a ship that is quite capable of sending us all to the devil sitting on my doorstep and yet it doesn’t seem inclined to engage us.
I want to know why that is, and I think it has something to do with you. ”
She couldn’t understand why he would think that when there was a more obvious reason. “But if this man ... your friend commands it, perhaps he wishes to help you after all?”
For a moment he looked perplexed and then he shook his head, all impatience and brusque movements. “He’s not my friend, and he thinks I’m dead,” he snapped. “No, it’s you. It has to be.”
Henri opened her mouth and closed it again.
“I--I,” she stammered as it occurred to her, he might actually be right.
She didn’t believe for one moment that her fiancé cared a whit about her or her fate, but he might care that something had been taken from him.
In the same way as if Lawrence had stolen a fine painting.
Perhaps he had somehow discovered her whereabouts and sent someone to retrieve her for him.
“I came to you because my father was marrying me off to a man I despise. But the man in question is very wealthy and had offered to settle all my father’s debts as well as giving him a stipend for the rest of his days.”
She watched as his face closed off. She had no idea what he was thinking but his stance was rigid, his fists clenched.
“I see,” he said. “A very generous offer but then ...” He looked at her, and she thought she saw anger in his eyes. “But then he was buying something very fine indeed.”
Henri swallowed. “If my father cannot pay his debts ...” She shrugged, finding she could not continue.
“And this wealthy man,” he asked, his tone clipped and cold. “Who was he?”
“Alexander Sinclair.” Her voice was barely audible now and she had the impression that some great cloud was gathering over them. “The Earl of Falmouth.”
She watched as Lawrence closed his eyes, and she thought he seemed to be in pain.
“Lawrence?” she said.
“Don’t,” he replied, his eyes snapping open and the blue bright with anger. “Don’t call me that. I’m Captain Savage to you, do you hear me?”
She gasped, shocked and hurt by his behaviour but she had no time to demand why he would treat her so as once again Mousy hammered on the door.
“They’ve signalled, Cap’n, they want the girl, and ... they want you.”
Henri’s chest grew tight, it was as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room, but Lawrence ... Captain Savage did not seem surprised. He even smiled a little though it was not a happy expression.
“Tell them the terms are acceptable.”
“What?” Mousy stared at him, uncomprehending, before storming into the room and slamming the door behind him.
“I’ll do no such thing! What’s wrong with ye?
” he demanded. “We’ve still got a fighting chance!
Lord, man, we took the Corona and she ‘ad more guns than thisun so you can’t be tellin’ me ye worrit we’re out gunned! What the devil’s ailing ye?”
She watched, her chest aching as she saw the pain in Lawrence’s eyes.
“It’s him, Mousy, it’s Alex.”
Whoever the earl might be to Lawrence, Mousy seemed to be well aware of the connection. The big man’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t believe it.”
“We can’t outrun that ship, Mousy,” Lawrence said, his voice soft. “And I can’t outrun fate. Not anymore. Though I’ve had a better run than I deserved, thanks to you, but ...”
“Then I’m coming with ye,” Mousy said, folding his massive arms and butting in before he could finish the sentence.
Lawrence smiled at him, and it was full of warmth. “I know you would, I know you want to, but the men need you. You must get them away, Mousy, they won’t make it without a good Captain.
Mousy shook his head and held out one meaty hand, a finger pointed at Lawrence. “No ... I ...” he began but Lawrence wouldn’t listen.
“Dammit, man,” Lawrence shouted, growing angry now.
He turned away and strode to his desk, tearing open the drawers until he found the bottle she had stashed there earlier.
“This is my ship, these are my men,” he shouted, pulling the cork and throwing it to the floor.
“I’ll not go to my fate knowing they’re all doomed too, and they will be unless they have someone with the wit to steer them true.
” He stared at Mousy until the solid man seemed to crumple in on himself and looked at the floor, shaking his head.
“Never thought to see ye go like this.”
Lawrence shrugged and offered him the bottle. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
Mousy frowned and drunk deep, his throat working as he swallowed the liquor. He lowered the bottle and stared at Lawrence. “Maybe ... Maybe ‘e can ‘elp ye?”
There was a snort of amusement from Lawrence as he took the bottle back.
“Even the Earl of Falmouth doesn’t have that kind of power, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he was just as eager to see me hanged, once .
.. once it all becomes clear.” The two men stared at each other. “Go and send the reply.”
Mousy hesitated for a moment before touching his forehead with his finger. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
“Good man.” Lawrence smiled at him as his large friend ducked his head and exited the cabin.
Henri sat down in the chair by the desk, her hands clutching at the arms and suddenly unsure if her legs would hold her any longer.
She was exhausted and the events of the past two days were so many and so violently different from anything she had experienced in her life before she could hardly believe any of it was real.
It was as though she had been plunged into someone else’s life and didn’t know how she was supposed to act anymore.
She put her hand to her temples. Her head was aching, and she was overwhelmed.
She couldn’t bear the idea that Lawrence was going to sacrifice himself to save his men. Surely there had to be another way?
“Is there nothing else to be done?” she asked, looking up at him.
He was standing still, just staring across the room, but she knew he was looking into the past and seeing whatever events had chased him into the life he now led.
“No,” he replied. “Nothing.” He turned and smiled at her and went to settle himself in the chair on the other side of the desk.
“That ship out there is the finest of her kind. She’s fast, incredibly manoeuvrable and just .
..” To her astonishment he grinned at her.
“At least I’ll get to sail aboard her for a day or two.
I never thought I would.” He sat back in his chair, his finger tracing a pattern on the glass of the bottle.
“I saw the first designs for her you see. I always told him she would be a beauty.”
“Told who?” she asked, watching him with tears pricking behind her eyes.
He turned to her and smiled, and this time there was warmth in the blue.
“My brother, Alexander Sinclair.”