His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) (9 page)

It was all her fault. Why had she been so reckless? So foolish?

But then, on the other hand, if Rafe had not kidnapped her in the first place, she would not have been placed in this situation.

Captain Blood removed the dagger from her neck, and placed it back in its leather scabbard. He grasped hold of her in a viselike grip, and nearly pinched the air straight out of her.

He wrapped his fingers around the line, and jumped up to the rail. He held her as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour. He swung across to
The Destroyer
and landed on the deck with an awful thud. She closed her eyes, and then opened them again when she felt him reach for something.

She gasped, when his hand enclosed around a Spanish pistol. Her mind raced. She looked to where Rafe was trying to fight his way to a line. He had just wrapped his hand around a rope when Captain Blood took aim.

“Rafe, look out!” she screamed, but it was all happening too fast. She could not stop Captain Blood.

At the last possible moment, she heaved with all of her might, and knocked the bloody bastard off balance. His arm swerved, altering his aim. But the gunshot still pierced through her hazy brain, and made her drop to her knees in agony. She watched as the shot connected with Rafe’s chest, and threw him catapulting backwards. He slammed onto the deck with such a resounding thud, that even she heard it.

A keening wail escaped her, at the sight of Rafe’s still, expressionless face. She didn’t have much time, for Captain Blood wrenched her to her feet, and began dragging her across the deck.

“Get us away from here,” he shouted out. His men began to drop back onto
The Destroyer
.

Screaming, she struggled against Captain Blood. He would not take her. If she made a run for it…she could throw herself overboard. Rafe was dead, and her heart had died with him.

*****

Mallory groaned, and rolled over onto his stomach.
The Valiant
swayed beneath him. He could hear his men rushing to him, and he looked up to catch Ethan skidding toward him. Ethan clutched his right arm up against his chest and blood trickled down his arm, slithering across his hand, to splatter onto the deck.

Mallory winced, and breathed against the smarting pain that exploded in his left shoulder. He placed his right hand up to it, expecting to feel warm gushy blood. But instead, his hand was dry when he pulled it back.

“What the…” he muttered, believing that he had been granted a miracle. And in a way, it was a miracle that had saved his life, for his brother’s gold cross he wore around his neck had saved his life, though it was dented quite horribly now.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, he muttered a silent prayer, thanking his foresight on deciding to carry on the St. Martin tradition of wearing the cross, despite the fact that he wasn’t the firstborn son.

Legend said that the fancy cross dated back to the time of King Richard, when an ancestor of theirs went to the crusades with the warrior king.

It was said that John St. Martin returned from the Holy Land unharmed, and many believed that the cross had become a talisman of sorts, and had protected him during his time there. If only his brother had been wearing the cross on the day he’d been killed.

Ethan drew up short, and snorted. “Good God, Rafe, I thought you were a goner for sure.”

“As did I,” Mallory admitted, pushing himself to his feet. “You should have your injury attended to.” Mallory nodded at the blood that still dripped onto the deck. He scanned his eyes across the deck, and found to his chagrin that most of his men looked as if they had met hell straight on.

Their ship’s doctor was making the rounds, trying to assess who needed his care first. Since he seemed to be one of the only ones in good condition, he walked unsteadily over toward the wheel, and gripped it sternly.

He signaled to the other ships that seemed quite battle worn, as well. He cast his eyes to the heavens, and sighed with relief when he found that their masts and rigging hadn’t been damaged. Yet another blessing that would work to his advantage.

Ethan came to stand beside him, as Mallory stared out at the sea. “We’ll catch up with them, and we’ll have her back in no time flat.”

“I know. I just worry about what kind of condition I’ll find her in. It was my responsibility to keep her safe. I failed her, Ethan.”

Ethan thumped him on the back with his good arm, and Mallory stared over at him. His first mate had ripped a length of his jacket off and had tied a strip of it around his arm, though by the looks of things, he still bled rather profusely.

“I think, Ethan, you should go and have the Doc or one of his men stitch that up for you. I don’t think you’ll be able to staunch the flow of blood otherwise.”

“We shall have to take great care to keep the morale of the men up,” Ethan said thoughtfully. He gave him a wink, and ambled away.

Mallory sighed, and wondered who would keep his morale up. He’d never been so distraught in all of his life. He felt like slamming doors, and breaking something priceless, but he couldn’t indulge in such reckless behavior. It was his duty to rescue Elizabeth, and rescue her, he would.

*****

Elizabeth stared around in revulsion at the opulent cabin she had been flung into. Her heartbeat still hadn’t stopped its racing against her chest, and she doubled over as another wave of nausea assailed her.

Red velvet draped the cabin, and made it look like a Sultan’s harem instead of a Captain’s cabin. She swallowed against the sour bile rising in her throat. She stood up and walked unsteadily over to the water decanter that sat on Captain Blood’s mahogany dinner table.

Pouring it, she spilt some onto the table surface, and grimaced. Shakily, she brought it up to her lips, and sighed when she drank in a few mouthfuls. Once she’d done that, she reached for a cut lime and drizzled the juice into her water. She was tired and heartbroken. She didn’t know why she drank the juice when she knew that a horrible fate at the hands of a madman awaited her.

It wouldn’t matter if she got sick with scurvy...no one would come for her now that Rafe was dead. She was alone. She’d never truly felt threatened by Rafe...but Captain Blood frightened her right down to the bone. No one would be coming to rescue her. After all, who would miss her?

No one.

Rafe might have missed her, and he might have pursued her, but he was dead, so he could no longer come to her rescue like a knight out of Chaucer’s tales.

She had just wandered over to a map that was hanging on Captain Blood’s wall when she heard the cabin door being wrenched open. Closing her eyes, and muttering a prayer, she steeled herself for what was to come. She slowly turned around, and gasped instead of screaming. Her eyes trailed up the full length of Captain Blood. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him before, but she could inspect him now, even in the flickering candlelight.

“Greetings. I am sure you’re quite happy to be away from that Limey bastard,” he purred. He smiled, revealing a row of crooked and yellowed teeth. “I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot earlier. My name is Antonio. I do believe you’re known to some as Evan Beaumont, isn’t that right?”

And then she gasped and went careening back toward the bed. Falling onto it, she stared up at him in stupefied horror. How in God’s name could he know her secret identity?

Elizabeth watched open-mouthed with horror, as Captain Blood strode toward her.

“Phillip?” she asked, narrowing her eyes, and perusing him closer. She envisioned him wearing the suit of a proper English gentleman, and she knew she was right, before he even confirmed her suspicion.

“Aye. One and the same,” he said gruffly, moving over to pour himself a full glass of what was probably rum.

“How did you know who I was, and where I was?” her question hung in the air as he gracefully turned back to her.

“Did you suppose that you could fool me that easily? I understand your need for anonymity, Miss Elizabeth. After all, entering a club to gamble, with your cousin as your only companion, dressed as a frilly dandy, is far preferable to entering such a place, dressed as a prudent young woman, especially when you would have been denied admittance as a woman.”

He raised thick black eyebrows, and held her gaze with his own penetrating one.

“Why did you kill Captain Morgan?” She intended to ask the question in a calm and collected voice, but instead, it came out ragged, and tense.

“Because I didn’t feel inclined to compete for you.” His devilish smile sent a chill racing down her spine, and it was far different from the shivers that Rafe gave her. She found herself reaching down, and clutching handfuls of the silk bedcovers in her fists. She tried swallowing, and nearly choked.

“How long have you…”

“Been following you?” he asked, finishing her question for her.

She nodded her head, feeling woozy with each sway of the ship.

“Since you attended White’s that first night, and I caught sight of you. I knew straight off that you weren’t a man. Everyone else might have thought you were an effeminate dandy, but I knew better. I was impressed by your gambling skills, and by your quick tongue. Your eyes, and charms, also encouraged me to pursue you. I knew I had to possess such a resourceful woman.”

She didn’t like the way he’d said possessed. It made her feel as if her skin crawled.

Closing her eyes, she remembered that fateful night in White’s. She’d gone there numerous times dressed as her alter ego, an effeminate dandy that she and Raleigh had named Evan Beaumont. Raleigh dared her to do it, and assisted her in pulling it off, by letting her attend as his guest. In hindsight, she never should have done it.

Raleigh had profited from it, as she had given him most of what she’d won at the gaming tables, and oh, how she had fleeced the unsuspecting members. There was no other way for her to get the rush of the gaming hells that were restricted to men, but to go disguised as Evan Beaumont.

She, had, on occasion gone to a few of the private gambling houses run by various ladies of questionable respectability, as Miss Elizabeth Woodward. She had quite the reputation within those circles, and most were leery of playing with her, as they called her Lucky Lizzie, a moniker that she thoroughly despised.

Women were prohibited from entering White’s...but as Evan Beaumont, she could do as she pleased, without being tossed out on her rear. And, with the way that fortune always seemed to sway in her favour at the gaming tables, she usually garnered a good deal of unwanted attention.

That was when she’d crossed paths with Phillip. She’d never known that he was a pirate posing as a proper English gentleman, but then, she had a great deal of secrets, she wasn’t surprised to find out that others harboured secrets as well.

Raleigh’s dare was coming back to haunt her in terrifying ways. He’d usually kept her close, but on a few occasions, he had wandered away from her to chat up his mates, and she had fallen into Philip’s orbit.

It had cost Rafe his life. Oh, God.

She shuddered again, as she came to terms with what Philip had said. This couldn’t be happening. She had only attended White’s those few times on a dare, and as a lark. She had never supposed that her actions would have such heavy consequences.

“Why do you want me?” she asked bluntly. She knew that he was infatuated with her, but for a man in his formidable position that didn’t seem to be enough.

“Did you know that my father was an Englishman?” He turned to her, and waited expectantly for her to respond. Dumbly, she shook her head, and waited for him to continue. “I was born on the wrong side of the blanket. I am a by-blow. My mother was quite poor, and was taken in by my fast-talking father. Soon, he had her lifting her skirts for him. I was born exactly nine months later.

“When he found out she was pregnant with me, she lost her allure. He kicked her out of his bed and out of his life. She had nowhere else to go but the streets. After I was born, she had numerous other lovers, but each and every one of them tired of her after a while. They used her and got rid of her once they got bored with her. After all, she was only a Spanish woman...she was far beneath them in their eyes. I lived in hell for most of my life, and as soon as I was old enough I took to the seas, hoping to make a living for myself.”

“What about your mother?” She tensed at the darkening expression that was splitting across his face.

“She withered away in a dirty filthy whore house.” His answer was succinct and to the point. Her stomach churned again, as he continued.

“I want you for the respect that you maintain in England, and abroad. You have the life I could only dream of. You have everything, my dear. You are legitimate, and both your father and mother were British born. You see, my friends in England do not even know that I and Captain Blood are one and the same, and they never will. As far as the beau monde in England are concerned, I am but a wealthy merchant, seeking to align myself with a well-bred noblewoman. Although you lack the title, you do have the family behind you. That life will always be my safe haven. True, running a textile mill isn’t the most exciting vocation, but it does do wonders for my reputation as Philip Berkley.”

His voice made her afraid, and her hands trembled. He bore down on her, and her eyes searched the cabin for something to defend herself with. She wished with all of her might that he hadn’t taken a special interest in her that night at White’s. He’d liked her so much that he’d insisted she return to the club every night for the next sennight. Then, one night, she’d arrived there to find that he’d mysteriously disappeared.

In a way, the friendship they’d shared had been slightly disturbing...she’d assumed that he’d been interested in having more than a friendly relationship with her, and she’d been determined to end their friendship. In fact, his sudden disappearance had been a blessing in disguise. To think that he’d been following her every move since then, made her feel as if her privacy had been invaded.

“As you say, I have no title. My mother was the daughter of an earl, I am the granddaughter of one, and my father was the son of a viscount but…”

She couldn’t continue. He was right. She had the respect of the beau monde. She chewed her bottom lip nervously. “My father is not liked by many within the ton, and some do not look favourably upon me because of that.”

Oh, hell, her money was all the ton needed when it came to judging her. They didn’t give a toss who her father was, or who he had offended, and Antonio, or Philip or whoever the hell he was, probably knew that.

“You will make me a first-rate lover and mistress, and with your contacts, I will have high society at my feet.”

She gasped, as his words sunk in. Mistress! He had to be mad to think that the beau monde would look upon her favourably as a fallen woman. It was really too much. He wanted her as his mistress? How could he even entertain the thought? At least Rafe wanted her as his wife. She slipped out from underneath him, and stood up on shaky legs. A blackout encroached upon her…

“Don’t take one step closer to me,” she threatened.

“Do you not know me?” he asked in a highly fake wounded voice. “It is your friend, Phillip, and I am here to make all of your worries disappear.”

“I hate to shatter any illusions you might have about me, Phillip, but I’ve never really cared for you. You were an entertaining diversion, but that’s what you were, a diversion. In fact, I care more for the bacon on my plate in the morning, than I care for you. And if you think I will let you make me your mistress…you cad! I am no barque of frailty, sir!”

His cheeks turned a beet red, and he reached for her, pulling him against her. Her mind and body cried out. She kicked him hard in the shins, hoping that would serve to deter him in some way. Instead, he whirled her around, and slammed her down upon his bed. He was reaching for the ties to his trousers, and coming down upon her in one fluid movement.

“I shall tame the wildness out of you before this night is through. Then you will know who is master, and you will be my mistress for however long I want you to warm my bed. You will become my whore, and I will teach you many tricks that do not befit the station of your birth.”

Screaming, she balled her fist. She swung it at him, and hit him full on in the jaw. He reached for her, and half-heartedly ripped her shirt that was beneath her greatcoat. While he was distracted, she reached and pulled out the dagger that was fastened to his waist. She plunged it into his shoulder blade, and cringed when blood began to seep out across his black shirt.

She dashed away from him, and made her way to the door, before he pounced on her again. In her moment of confusion, the dagger went flying out of her hand, and clattered onto the floor. She fought against him and managed to open the door. She gasped, as the cool night air hit her in the face. She couldn’t see much and half ran, half staggered up the stairs to the deck above.

Crewmen stared at her in shock, and then began bearing down upon her, when they heard their Captain’s outraged bellow. She made a beeline for the rail. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw the grim silhouette of Captain Blood.

“Catch her, my lads, and you’ll all have a bit of fun with her this night, after I am through with her.” His cruel insinuation made her heart stop beating altogether.

Death was better than what he offered. For one brief second, she stared down into the nearly black rocking ocean. Mustering all of the courage that she could manage, she swung herself over the rail, and jumped blindly into the cold rushing water.

Her body crashed against the waves, and she could hear catcalls and jeers in the distance. She shut her eyes against the agony of it all, as her body began to take over where her mind had left off. She began treading the water, and then started to swim away from
The Destroyer
. Thank God, she’d been taught as a child. She heard Captain Blood’s malicious farewell.

“Ah, lads. There goes our Bird of Paradise. I’d warrant the sharks will enjoy her almost as much as we would have.”

She shuddered again and, in her distraction, she was sucked beneath the sea. She fought to recover her senses, and emerged, spitting out salty water all the while. She was doomed. No one would be coming for her, and by this time tomorrow, or before, she would be most undoubtedly dead.

*****

Mallory stalked the length of the ship. His crewman had managed to resume their duties even though they looked battered and nearly broken. He clasped his hands firmly behind his back, and breathed in deeply as the salty air, rustled his wayward hair.

He was worried sick, and hadn’t felt so helpless in all of his life. Sordid images kept flooding his mind, and he wanted to kill Antonio with his bare hands. In fact, the next time they met, he would kill him, and enjoy it immensely.

He started at the sound of Ethan’s voice. “Rafe, I do not think we will catch up to them. For some reason we have lost their scent.”

Mallory’s heart fell and then tightened. His plan for Elizabeth was in shambles, and now the love of his life was facing a fate more horrible than death. He should have told her who he was, and now because of his deception, he would live with paralyzing guilt for the rest of his life.

Resting his elbows on the rail, he bit his lip as the moist mist from the sea, spattered up onto him. He had lost Elizabeth, and only a miracle would bring her back to him.

*****

Elizabeth nearly choked on the mouthful of seawater she almost swallowed, when she had been sucked beneath the rough waves. She had been treading water for hours, and she couldn’t keep it up for much longer.

There was no land in sight, and she didn’t know what to do. She turned at the distant sound of a baby’s cry. Shaking her head, she finally decided that she’d gone straight to Bedlam.

It wasn’t unexpected. After all, she had been through the worst misery that she had ever suffered. She stared at the water around her, and licked her salty lips, only making her thirst even worse. She was constantly searching the sea for sights of a shark, or maybe more.

Suddenly, the flicker of what looked to be a dolphin filled her vision. She began breathing quicker, as the bow of a ship came into sight. Straining her vision, she caught sight of the flag and sighed with relief. Every muscle in her body ached, and she coughed as a spasm wracked through her body.

She felt her lethargy overwhelm her, and her eyelids drooped shut, just as she heard someone call out
‘Miss!’
followed by a large splash. She had just slipped under, and began thinking of an underwater fairy and mermaid world, as she sank into the welcoming darkness.