Karen Michelle Nutt (35 page)

"Brock,” Nicholas greeted him. “Do you want to join us at the tavern?”

"Just come from there. I've had too much to drink as it is.” Brock chuckled as he rubbed his large protruding belly. "I think I'm going to turn in. You two have a good night of it.” He turned and walked away.

Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's get out of here,” he said, taking over the lead.

Traveling proved slow through the foliage, but they had to put as much distance from the ship and them as possible. Nicholas knew Captain Stevens well and he wouldn’t let his captive go so easily. He would send out a search party and if they were caught, he had no doubt they would both be swinging from the nearest tree.

They traveled in silence, Nicholas glancing behind him every so often to see how Keldon held up. He looked wretched. Sweat poured down his face and his breaths were labored. The man needed to rest before he collapsed.

"We're stopping," Nicholas announced.

"Why? Are ye tired?” Keldon barely puffed out.

Nicholas swallowed his pride, deciding it wasn't worth the man dying before he could rescue him. "Yes. I need to rest."

Keldon’s lips thinned. Sherborn lied, but he knew he couldn’t continue at this pace. He needed to sit down, even if it was only for a moment.

Sweat drenched him and yet he found himself shivering. He knew this was the effect of the beating he took. The only medical attention he received had been a quick look over by the ship’s surgeon, who ended the visit by dousing his wounds with salt water.

Pain riveted up and down his spine, his flesh burned from the infection raging through his body, and his stomach ached from lack of nourishment. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Every step he took was an agonizing feat, but he would never let Sherborn know this.

Nicholas eyed Keldon closely, obviously making his own assessment. He took out a flask he had in his inside pocket of his jacket. He handed it to him. "Drink some of this. It'll take the edge off the pain.” Keldon didn't argue. He gratefully took a swig, savoring the burn as the liquid ran down his throat.

The tension between the two men was like a loaded dueling pistol with a hair trigger temper. Finally, Keldon couldn’t take it anymore. "Why did ye come into my life and ruin all I have ever wanted?” Keldon’s words were sudden, raw and angry. He glared at his adversary, his eyes blazing with unresolved loathing. “Do ye make it a habit to have a man trusts ye? Then go aboot seducin’ his wife?"

“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but at the time I thought I was justified. And no, I don't make it a habit of shagging other men’s wives, but your wife was all too willing.”

Keldon flinched at Nicholas’ words. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but Nicholas wouldn’t let him off so easily.

“Annabelle and I had a goal. I thought we both wanted it. She seemed to abhor you as much as I did and we fed off that hatred. We would have destroyed you, too. We were so bloody close, but something changed. It was almost like Annabelle become another person. You even called her by another name—Arianna. It seemed fitting, I suppose.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Arianna forced me to see you as you really were. As much as I didn’t want to, I couldn’t refute what I witnessed. You weren’t what I expected. You were a man of honor and not the fiend I had conjured up in my mind. I had set out to destroy you, but in the end it was I who had lost."

Keldon’s anger wavered as he tried to comprehend what Sherborn confessed. "Why would ye think ill of me?” He needed to know, wanted to understand.

"Because you stole my security. You took away the only person who meant anything to me, who had cared for me when my parents died. I believed you had blatantly murdered, Captain Richard Hawkins.”

The shock of this discovery hit him full force. "Hawkins was kin to ye?” He shook his head and stared at him in astonishment. "I never meant to kill the man."

"I know and isn’t this the irony of the whole mess.”

Keldon grasped what had driven Nicholas to do the things he did. Maybe he even deserved Nicholas’ hatred, but it didn’t mean he had to forgive him. Nicholas had taken too much. He had taken the woman he loved, destroyed his trust and stripped him of his pride. "Do ye know she is with child?" Keldon asked.

"I know.”

"Is that why ye ran away, then? Ye knew it was yers?” There was a sudden thin chill hanging on the edge of his words.

"Bullocks! I didn't run. I left and there is a bloody big difference between the two. As for the child being mine...” He shrugged. “It doesn't matter. I will not claim it. Arianna wouldn't want me to."

"She doesnae want ye to claim yer own bairn?” Keldon raised his voice at the ridiculous logic Nicholas seemed to possess. "If the bairn is yers that is how it is. Ye cannae be changin’ the fact."

"I bloody well can do as I please. You’re a real wanker aren’t you? You already decided the baby is mine, when in all probability the child she carries is of your blood."

Frustrated, Keldon ran his fingers through his hair and took another swig from the flask. The effect of the alcohol deadened the throbbing pain in his back, but it was failing miserably to dull the pain he felt in his heart. "Tell me this, Sherborn, would ye be able to raise another man's bairn? Would ye be able to hold yer wife, knowin’ she'd betrayed ye with another?"

"I don’t know if I can answer you truthfully, for a man can easily say what he would do when he hasn’t endured the situation himself.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll give you an answer though, if you wish.”

Keldon grudgingly nodded.

“If I loved her enough, I believe I could.”

He was surprised by Nicholas’ answer. Was he being so shallow that he couldn't put the past to rest and move forward? He wasn’t sure. Though he did know, life without Arianna would be like floundering in an agonizing maelstrom of despair. Was his love strong enough to forgive her? Could he learn to trust her again and care for a child who possibly wasn’t his?

He never had the time to answer his own questions. Four men burst through the clearing, their weapons drawn.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

"On your feet," the leader, a man with a thick French accent and long black hair, ordered. Seeing they were surrounded, Nicholas and Keldon had no other choice other than to obey. The men weren’t from
The Waterfront
. They didn't know if they should be happy over this fact, or if they should be silently saying their prayers. Keldon decided he had no desire to fall prey to another man’s wishes. He didn’t come this far to fail now.

"I can take the two beside me," Keldon whispered. "If ye can handle the other two."

“I was assessing the men myself. I have no wish to be a prisoner.” Letting out a horrendous shout, Nicholas launched his attack.

Keldon didn’t waste any time, either. He threw his punch into the man nearest him, sending him sailing through the air. He immediately connected his fist with the other man’s chin, knocking him unconscious with the first blow. Satisfied he concentrated on the first man he attacked for he was already on his feet, lunging toward him.

In a matter of minutes, the four intruders were lying unconscious at Keldon and Nicholas' feet. Breathing heavily, Keldon collapsed to the ground and Nicholas immediately went over to him. "Brilliant! Your back is bleeding, again."

"Then that accounts for the frightful pain that I be feelin’. Do ye see the flask? I could use a drink aboot now.”

Nicholas searched the ground. Recovering the flask, he handed it to him.

"Are ye hurt?" Keldon said as he glanced at him.

"No, but I could use a drink myself. My nerves are in a jumble.” Keldon passed the flask and Nicholas took a long swallow. "I wondered where these men came from?” Nicholas commented. “Highly unlikely they were out for a late night stroll."

"No. They were not," a deep voice, answered from behind them. Keldon stood and Nicholas closed his hands into a fist, both men were ready to fight again if the need arose. When they faced the new comer, they faced not only one man, but twenty or more emerged behind him.

"Bloody hell!” Nicholas exclaimed.

Keldon’s heart sank. They weren't going to fight their way out of this situation, unless they planned to die in the process.

The tall dark-haired man who held the presence of authority took a step forward. "Do you mind telling me what you two are doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Just having a quiet drink among friends," Keldon replied. From their dress, he knew the men were pirates. He only hoped that from one pirate to another, he could talk his way into having these men help them, rather than kill them.

The dark-haired man’s eyes narrowed. “My men are in top condition and yet they lay unconscious. How is this possible when you look like you’re on the verge of collapse?” He waved his hand at Keldon.

“They didn’t give us a chance to explain.” Keldon shrugged.

“And I should? You’re wearing British uniforms and I am not fond of them these days.” He turned to the young man standing next to him. “Check the prisoners for weapons.”

The young man stepped forward. He didn’t look old enough to be away from his mother’s apron strings. He searched Nicholas first. When he didn’t find a weapon on him, he approached Keldon. “This one has somethin’ in his shirt.”

“Well see what it is,” the man in charge demanded.

Keldon let the boy remove the kilt from beneath its confinement. “It’s a dress of sorts.” The young man curiously looked at the item he held in his hand.

“It be a kilt, lad,” Keldon corrected.

“Kilt?” The man in charge walked closer to see for himself. He eyed Keldon. “How did you come by this?”

“It is mine, as it was my father’s and his father’s before that. The clothes we wear now were… borrowed.” Keldon swayed, feeling a bit lightheaded.

"Are you ill?” The one in charge gave him a scrutinizing once over.

"Nay ill, but damaged,” Keldon told him. “I have suffered from the hands of the British.” Keldon turned slightly so the man saw that the back of his shirt was blood soaked from his injuries.

The man understood immediately what had transpired. "Why would they have treated you so unkindly?"

Keldon shrugged. "Mayhap, they dinnae like me plunderin’ their ship."

The dark haired man didn’t say anything at first, but then his handsome face broke into a grin. "The British are quite funny about such acts."

Keldon relaxed. He’d been right to trust his instincts. The man was a pirate.

The dark-haired man became sobered as he glanced at Nicholas. "What of him? He sounded British to me."

Nicholas tensed his eyes glancing uneasily toward Keldon. Keldon looked at him and saw the fear in his eyes. He knew Nicholas thought he was going to betray him. It was tempting, but instead he slapped Nicholas on the back nearly toppling him over.

"Him?" Keldon replied, jovially to the stranger. "Nicholas cannae help who fathered him, but ye have my word—he can be trusted."

"My friend here,” Nicholas flashed him a look of gratitude, "He would never say as much, but he is in dire need of some medical attention."

"Come back with us and I'll have my surgeon look at you.” The man in charge nodded. He then snapped his fingers and ordered a few of his men to collect their unconscious shipmates who were just now beginning to moan their way to consciousness. He then turned his attention back to Keldon. "What name do you go by when you are plundering ships?"

"The Highland Pirate."

The dark-haired man leaned back his head and laughed. "The phantom, I have heard you called. I am Jean Laffite, my friend.”

"Your reputation precedes you.” Keldon bowed, slightly. "It is an honor to have been captured by you."

"And it is an honor to have done so."

"As a friend of the sea,” Keldon said. “I have to give you fair warnin’, the British Captain we spoke of, willnae have taken kindly to my departure. He most likely willnae give up pursuit so easily."

"Not to worry, my ship is well hidden. I assure you, he will be hard pressed to find it."

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Vincent carefully read the note Arianna handed him.

"Weel what does it say?" Leighton was too impatient to wait.

"It seems Jean Laffite would like to have an audience with us. He has Keldon, but because of certain circumstances, he is unable to bring him directly here. He states Keldon isn’t well enough to travel. Laffite will be sending someone in a few days to escort us to him."

"Laffite sent the letter?" Leighton asked.

"Not exactly.”