Chapter Twenty-One #2
The Siren threaded her way through the brackish waters of the Mississippi River.
Lucien’s eyes swept the banks, low cypress and moss-laden oaks bending under the weight of rain-soaked limbs.
The storm’s aftermath stretched along the water, half-submerged pilings and broken docks dangling in the shallows, driftwood bumping against the Siren’s hull.
He pointed ahead. “See that wharf? That’s the settlement of Violet. We’ll need to stop so I can go check on my aunt and bring her to New Orleans with us.”
Samantha frowned. “Are you sure we should be stopping?”
“I have to. The key to stopping Thorne is at my house.” He kept his eyes ahead.
“What exactly are you hiding?” Her gaze bored into him, demanding the truth.
He shook his head. “I need to make certain first. If I’m wrong…” He exhaled, shoulders tightening against the breeze winding through the rigging. “God help us.”
“You need to give me more than that.”
“Soon it will all make sense. I promise. But we have to move now, before time runs out.”
She nodded and turned to an older seaman. “Griff, you’re in charge. Keep the lines ready to cast off the moment we return. I’ll take several men with. If anything happens, you sail for New Orleans. Find my uncle. No hesitation.”
He touched the brim of his hat, weathered face creasing. “Aye, Captain. Be safe.”
Abigail lingered near the rail, fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve. She gave him a small smile. “I’ll be glad to see Eloise again.”
“And she’ll be overjoyed to see you safe.
She was quite distraught about your disappearance.
” He hesitated. No reason he shouldn’t leave her on board while he fetched his aunt.
He’d be back in a couple hours at most. But the memory of the last time he’d left her behind burned through him like a brand. “You’re coming.”
Her head snapped up, and he held her gaze. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not after everything that’s happened.”
They disembarked onto the wharf, the wood still slick from the storm.
Mud and river silt streaked the planks, and they picked their way over debris to the narrow street.
Violet was little more than a scatter of cottages along the levee, their roofs patched with tin and palmetto thatch.
Men hauled downed branches from the road, and women wrung out sodden linens, hanging them across fences to dry.
Lucien led the group up the narrow track toward a small corral at the edge of the settlement.
A handful of horses stood tethered beneath a lean-to, stamping at puddles.
A man straightened from beneath the lean-to, brushing mud from his hands. “Lookin’ for mounts, are ye?”
Lucien nodded. “There’s six of us.”
The man frowned. “Three’s all I can spare. The rest are out clearing the roads and hauling wreckage.”
Samantha pressed her lips together, glancing at her men. “I don’t like leaving them.”
He inclined his head. “You don’t need to come with. It’s a short ride.”
“How far is it?”
“Half an hour. At most.”
She set her jaw and turned to her men. “We’ll go on without you. Return to the ship.”
They mounted and trotted from the village.
The road to Bayou Dupre wound between puddles and fallen limbs, parts of it still drowned beneath the storm’s remnants.
Abigail rode beside him, her fingers locked tight around the reins.
Samantha kept to the rear, her assessing gaze sweeping the trees for any sign of trouble.
Soon, the levees gave way to marshy fringes where cypress knees jutted from the water.
Water lapped against the edges of the road, still swollen from the storm, the gray sky reflected in rippling fragments.
A subtle thread of relief twisted through him, and for a moment the chaos and urgency of their journey fell away, replaced by the quiet comfort of home.
Waterlogged tracks clogged the last half mile, forcing them to pick their way with caution.
Mist curled above the flooded ditches, shrouding the edges of the path.
A tall oak had toppled across his drive, its roots torn and mud streaked.
The horses balked, tossing their heads, and Lucien eased Abigail from her saddle, then helped Samantha down.
They moved toward the house, boots sinking into mud.
Lucien’s pulse thrummed with a mix of anticipation and unease.
The familiar outline of his house emerged through the trees, smoke curling faintly from the chimney.
A branch snapped, the sound cracking through the stillness like a gunshot.
Lucien froze, raising a hand for Abigail and her friend to halt.
His gaze swept the yard, taking in the leaning fences, the pools of water, and the shadowed tree line beyond.
Something shifted among the cypress, subtle but deliberate.
The hair at the back of his neck prickled.
Surely it wasn’t…
A glint of steel caught the dim light and his stomach tightened.
It was.
Samantha cursed beside him “How is he here?” She yanked her rapier free. “He’s a damn wraith, the way he keeps appearing.”
Though his palm settled on the hilt of his sword, he left it sheathed.
Men poured from the swamp, too many to face at once, the soft splash of water and the rustle of undergrowth announcing each new arrival. A sudden hush fell over the yard as Thorne stepped forward. He moved with a predator’s grace, each motion measured and unnervingly calm.
Samantha’s blade flashed in the dappled sunlight as she raised it. “Where’s Christian?” Her eyes blazed as several pirates surrounded her.
“The boy’s got too soft a heart. I find myself growing weary of his interference, so I convinced him to stay behind.
” Cold amusement lit his gaze. “I confess, I’m surprised to see you here.
He does share one trait with me—he doesn’t appreciate being lied to.
Perhaps I should have let him tag along.
Some promises, it appears, are rather convenient to forget. Wouldn’t you say?”
She lunged toward him, but the men around her closed in, forcing her to stop short. “You know nothing of promises, or what it costs to keep them.”
Heat prickled along the back of Lucien’s neck as she spit the words out. What did she hope to gain by goading the pirate?
Thorne stilled, a shadow crossing his face before his expression hardened to ice. “On the contrary.” The words came out soft and dangerous. “I know exactly what they cost, and I’ve paid more than you can fathom.”
The pirate’s gaze settled on Abigail, his lips twisting.
“I’ve decided I no longer want to bother with the hassle of using you to draw out your father.
My men already know where he is. The news of your death will be nearly as impactful as witnessing it himself.
” He slid his sword free, swinging it in a slow, deliberate arc.
“You won’t touch a hair on her.” Lucien stepped between them and drew his blade. “In fact, you won’t touch anyone.”
Thorne’s laugh rolled across the yard. “Do you truly believe you can stop me? I must say, sometimes the bravest men are the most foolish in the end.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Lucien ground the words out. “Now, if you’ll let me—”
The pirate moved with inhuman speed, his sword slicing toward Lucien’s flank. He pivoted and deflected the strike, steel screeching against steel.
A flick of the wrist, a quick step, and Thorne’s blade came again, faster, more precise. Lucien spun away as it cut through the space he’d just vacated. He parried, each jarring clash sending a jolt through his arm, sparks flaring where their swords met.
The pirate advanced, every strike fueled by something far darker than hatred, and drove Lucien backward toward the porch.
“Thorne—” Lucien blocked the next blow, his arms vibrating with the inhuman strength the man put into it. “Damn it, listen to me.”
“The time for listening is over.” Thorne’s sword swept low toward his legs.
Lucien jumped back, mud splashing beneath his boots. “You don’t have to do this!”
Thorne gave a thin, humorless smile, his eyes cold. “Spare me your speech. I’ve spent the last two decades doing what needed doing. Your words will change nothing.” Another strike came, swift and merciless, forcing Lucien to twist sideways to catch his sword with his.
He pushed back, grinding his teeth as his blade slipped. “Your fight isn’t with me.”
Thorne grunted, pushing him back a step. Another. “You’re right. You’re just in the wrong place, falling for the wrong woman.”
With a growl, Lucien twisted his wrist, wrenching free. “I beg to differ.”
The pirate chuckled and advanced, each blow coming heavier than the last.
Lucien blocked, teeth clenched. “Stop this madness. There’s a way we can end this without bloodshed.”
“End it? That’s exactly what I’m here to do. Perhaps you haven’t heard, but the only way I settle my debts is with steel.”
Frustration roared in Lucien’s chest. This wasn’t working. With a growl, he ignored every ounce of instinct and threw his sword to the ground.
An instant later, the tip of Thorne’s blade found the hollow of his neck. Lucien swallowed, the cool metal biting into his skin. The pirate’s eyes narrowed. “Funny, I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
He took a slow breath and lifted his hands. “Trust me when I say you’re going to want to hear me out.”
Thorne’s snarl rang across the yard. “I trust no one. And you? Your time’s up.”
The world narrowed to steel and the shallow rise of Lucien’s throat as the pressure at his neck increased.
Bang!
The front door slammed open.
“James Thompson, what in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”