Claire Delacroix (129 page)

There was a sound of shattering wood, then the crewmen shouted to each other. The ship trembled mightily, waves thundered against the hull. Far below, the trapped slaves began to scream, and rushing water could be heard echoing in the hold.

And a destrier whinnied in terror just before he began to kick with resounding rhythm.

They had run aground.

“Are you injured?” Rowan demanded.

“Nay.” Bronwyn felt overwhelmed by all that had just transpired.

“Can you swim?”

“I do not know.”

The knight cast her a grin that was less cocky than usual but still managed to reassure her. “Well,
ma demoiselle
, I suspect we shall shortly find out. Fortunately for both of us, I can.” Then he stepped onto the chaos of the deck and shouted. “Thomas!”

or a day that had begun well enough, this one seemed intent on abandoning any promise at all. Indeed, Rowan heartily doubted he would survive it.

He could hear an infuriated Troubador wreaking havoc belowdecks and did not dare to imagine what that beast might accomplish before he got to the steed’s side. At least Baldassare would be unable to take issue with the damage.

Rowan refused to think about what had just happened, much less what he might do to set matters to rights.

First matters first.

To Rowan’s relief, they were not far from shore. A glance revealed that the ship had run aground on a rocky shoal. If the waves had not been whipped so high by the commencing storm, the ship might have perched there long enough to allow all to disembark.

As it was, the vessel creaked ominously and there was no telling when ’twould plunge into the sea.

Or shatter to a thousand pieces. The sea churned angrily, and Rowan already guessed that Dame Fortune had abandoned him the moment he accepted his brothers’ dare.

With the exception of finding Bronwyn. He could not think about that either, nor the wave of protectiveness that
had so caught him unawares. There was proof that responsibilities were trouble!

And Bronwyn was trouble unrivalled.

Thomas came quickly, his manner sober. Marika was right behind him, her eyes wide in fear. She cringed with every shout from below, and Rowan realized that she might have friends or family still in the hold. Bronwyn cast him an appealing glance and he knew well enough what her expectation was.

He reminded himself that if he saved her from this disaster, he could have the pleasure of killing her himself. Murdering the captain! And distracting that man when they were so close to shore. Had he ever witnessed such foolery?

Even if for a noble cause. His heart twisted that she would take such a risk out of love for her father, then he forced such consideration from his thoughts.

Indeed, there was no time for it now.

“Take Marika and Thomas with you and make for the shore as best you are able,” he bade Bronwyn. “I will try to free steeds and slaves.”

She balked, as he should have expected. “I will not!”

“Is naught ever simple with you?” Rowan flung out his hands as the ship creaked and tipped a little farther into the sea. “I but request you save your hide!”

“And I but insist that we shall all be saved together.”

“Or, more like, all die together.”

“I will not leave you here to die alone.”

“You have no choice! I entrust you to see these two safe, and as a woman who welcomes responsibility, you should be delighted to ensure their welfare.”

Even with that, she hesitated, though Rowan could not imagine why. Surely she could not desire to die? “There is an opportunity to get yourself onto the shoal and thus make the shore, even if you cannot swim.”

Before the lady could protest further, Rowan caught her chin in his hand. “Go, Bronwyn, or I truly shall believe you are witless!” Her eyes flashed and he kissed her quickly, striding away before she chose to discuss the matter further.

For there was no time to argue. Rowan cut a quick path to the hatchway, threw it back, and nearly stumbled at the stench of terrified horse.

And terrified human. A pungent blending of sweat and fear and excrement assaulted Rowan, the pulse of rain doing naught to aid matters. Troubador evidently saw the light above—or Rowan’s silhouette—for he snorted and kicked with new vigor. His rear hooves slammed against the hull of the ship and wood splintered noisily. The palfrey whinnied, her feet stamping a staccato as she took the destrier’s foul mood.

Before Rowan could descend, Troubador snapped at his tether with vigor and the bolt to which his reins were secured was ripped right from the wall. The bolt clung to the reins, moving with vigor each time the destrier tossed his head. The bolt flew around the small space, threatening to dislodge an eye.

Better and better. Rowan gritted his teeth, not surprised the frightened beast did naught to aid in his own survival. The destrier was strong and more clever than most.

Except when he was afraid. Then there was no reasoning with him, nor even any way of swaying his conviction in whatever madness he took to mind. On this day, clearly the beast had decided to fight his way free.

Rowan hoped that neither of them was injured in the attempt. He threw an arm over his face and made his way to the side of the ship that had been closed behind the horses to make the exterior of the ship. The tipping of the vessel had left this side slightly skyward and Rowan’s fingers worked madly as he sought the seal.

Troubador frothed. The bolt caught Rowan once in the back of the shoulder. He winced at the brutal sting but knew there was naught that could calm the steed.

Naught but freedom. Seawater pooled in the far corner. Troubador began to snort and stamp that his feet were in the chill water. That was no good reminder to this beast that did not favor the sea.

The palfrey screamed and shook, her frenzied cries nearly shattering Rowan’s ears. The slaves cried for mercy in an incoherent babble for which Rowan needed no knowledge of foreign tongues to understand.

If he had had any wits, he would have fled and seen to his own safety. But Rowan scrabbled at the edge of the door. Too late he realized that it was nailed from the outside and he could not open the hatch by himself.

Troubador raged and kicked again, Rowan just barely escaping the impact of those flying feet. He pressed himself back into the corner, watching as the beast kicked again and again and again, evidently recalling even in his fear how he had come to be trapped in this place.

And the wood was beginning to fall prey to the stallion’s assault. Rowan cringed back into the corner, hoping against hope that the beast could achieve what he could not.

’Twas then that he saw the key. It hung from a hook, dangling just above his head, in a corner that would be out of sight when all was at rights. Rowan seized it, guessing its purpose immediately, and fell upon the lock that secured the slaves in the hold.

He had no sooner turned the key than the base of the gangplank shattered beneath the destrier’s assault. The rain slanted in coldly, the sea rushed in to swirl around his feet.

A trio of bedraggled men raced out of the confining hold, their eyes wide with fear. They headed directly for the light and put their shoulders to the broken wood, so fearful that
they were oblivious to the panicked horse. The infuriated destrier shoved his way through them, intent on reaching freedom as soon as the hatch fell open, the palfrey immediately behind him.

Rowan found Bronwyn unexpectedly by his side. He had no time to chastise her before she plunged into the bowels of the ship, her questions flying quickly in a succession of languages.

He would not admit that her ability was of any aid.

“Bronwyn! The ship is easing free of the shoal! You must flee.” Rowan lent chase, only to have the lady in question press a child into his arms.

“We cannot abandon them,” she chided, undeterred by his displeasure. “Quickly, Rowan. Many have not the strength to walk.”

She spoke aright. Rowan blinked as she faded into the shadows and the babe in his arms began to cry. He was achingly aware of the unsteady rhythm of the ship and did not trust it to hold its place for long.

Which meant only that they must hasten.

A man spoke to him from behind. Rowan turned and passed the child. He won a grateful smile that settled around his heart with a glow.

“Hurry!” Rowan cried, the rushing water now past his knees.

They settled into a rhythm quickly, each able-bodied slave coming free of the hold as quickly as possible. To Rowan’s relief, none here was shackled, the security of the hold apparently deemed sufficient.

But there were so many of them and they were so weakened by what they had endured. His heart clenched as he lost sight of Bronwyn yet again.

As if in echo of Rowan’s thoughts, the ship gave a shuddering moan. “We must be gone,” Rowan cried.

“I heard a moan,” she insisted, her voice distant.

Rowan rolled his eyes and dove into the darkness in pursuit. ’Twas dark as pitch within and the smell was enough to turn his belly again. The water had joined with countless other substances here to make a mire that now rose to his waist. Something bumped against his leg and he feared it was too late already for many here.

The ship began to creak loudly.

And he did not know where the lady was.

“Bronwyn!”

“Here!” Rowan reached back and found her hand in the same instant that the ship shuddered and creaked ominously. There came a shout from overhead and Bronwyn cried out.

The ship was slipping off the shoal!

Rowan recognized a last chance when he saw it. They would never survive if the ship sank with them in its belly. He caught Bronwyn in his arms and lunged for the light. The seawater suddenly rushed against them in an angry grey torrent, keeping them from the portal. Bronwyn clung to his neck and Rowan snatched at the wooden frame, fighting with all his might to see them free.

’Twould not be his fault if Bronwyn died trying to save the lives of strangers.

For a man disenchanted with responsibility, Rowan de Montvieux showed a remarkable drive to ensure all who were his responsibility—and a great many who were not—lived to tell of this day. Bronwyn was astonished by his determination, no less by his strength.

And she was grateful for it. After his confession, she had not been certain that he would aid the slaves in escaping, but he had already released them when she arrived in the hold.

She could not blame him for not guessing their sorry
state. ’Twould be beyond his experience to know the circumstance of slaves.

But Bronwyn knew all too well. Rowan’s shocked expression and his grim resolve once he witnessed the truth told her that she had called the matter aright.

When the wave rolled through the portal, Bronwyn was glad that she knew the truth about his character, even if that was the last thing she would ever learn.

But Rowan was not so inclined to cede defeat. Bronwyn could never have moved so quickly as he did, even with her caught in his arms. Even as Rowan raced forward, she feared that she would keep him from surviving.

They reached the opening as the ship rolled into the sea and the cold water closed over them with a vengeance. Bronwyn knew they were lost forever beneath the silver waves, trapped within the maw of the sinking hold.

But Rowan grabbed the wooden frame and held fast as the ship rolled. He fairly shoved Bronwyn through the opening, and her heart leapt at the aqua gleam of salvation high overhead. Rowan kicked and urged her toward the surface.

’Twas far, much farther than she could have imagined, and she was not a swimmer by any definition. When she might have faltered, Rowan caught her beneath his arm and pulled them higher with bold strokes. Bronwyn’s chest ached and she thought she would faint for lack of air, but she kicked valiantly, trying to aid his efforts to save them.

They broke the surface as one, gasping with painful vigor. Rowan’s arm still locked around her waist, holding her afloat.

They both gulped greedily of fresh air and Bronwyn trembled in the wake of their escape. She had never been so glad to feel rain on her face as she was in that moment. She felt Rowan’s muscles move so close against her own and realized he was keeping them both afloat.