Master of Paradise (8 page)

“Move!” she commanded.

She quickly transferred the sword to his
throat and forced him outside and up the stairs. When they were
abovedecks, some of his men stopped short.

“
Capitão...?
” one said, uncertain.

Gabrielle didn’t even pause. The fighting had
ceased, and the two ships were now tied together. In the aftermath
of the battle, the dead had been laid out in rows on the deck.
Groups of wounded men moaned pitifully. The smell of gunpowder
blistered the air.

Using the blade as incentive, she urged her
captive to the boarding plank. As she forced him across to the
plundered vessel, Rodrigo’s men stared in disbelief.

Finally, she stopped. Rodrigo stood, head
held regally high in spite of his handicap, his hands clenched in
tight fists at his sides. She could see the anger seething beneath
his facade of studied calm.

“
Capitão,
” cried one of his men, “how
can this be?”

Clearly, they’d never seen their captain in
such a disadvantaged position. Rodrigo’s eyes stared straight
ahead, his humiliation mingling with his wrath. She admired his
cool. His leonine grace. It couldn’t be easy, being made helpless
before his men by application of his own sword.

When she’d last seen Cullen, he’d been
huddled on the deck, trembling. Now he stood in a group of other
prisoners bound to one another in a circle around the mizzenmast.
“Gabby...” he said, staring aghast at his sister.

She ignored him, concentrating all her
energies on keeping the sword lodged against Rodrigo’s throat.

“I want your promise that you’ll let me go,”
she told him so all could hear.

He said nothing.

She applied pressure to the sword.

“Say it,” she ordered. The action drew a drop
of blood.

“I promise,” he growled.

“Say it so your men will understand.”

By now, all his men had gathered round.
Rodrigo gave an impatient jerk of his head. As he did, the saber
cut him. Blood trickled down the strong column of his neck onto his
white shirt.

“I promise to let you go.”

“Me, the captain, and crew of our ship.”

“You, the captain, and crew,” he agreed
woodenly.

She impelled the sword just the slightest
bit. “On your family’s honor, Rodrigo.”

He met her eyes. The look in his almost
blasted her back against the rail. “My—family’s—honor,” he ground
out, in the way of a man tested to his limits.

“Very well,” she conceded. “I shall trust you
to keep that oath.”

Rodrigo reached up with a fist and
contemptuously removed the sword from his throat. It cut his palm,
but he didn’t seem to notice. Gabrielle backed up instinctively,
expecting him to retaliate once he was out of danger. Instead, he
merely wrenched the weapon from her, turned, and walked away.

His men looked after him with wary eyes, as
if they couldn’t decide how to handle this unexpected turn of
events.

Lieutenant Wallace called after him. “You
mean, man, that we’ve come all this way to get her, and you’re
going to let her go?”

The pirate captain paused for a moment,
gazing out at the sea as he considered his options. Then his eyes
flicked back to Gabrielle and she felt stripped raw by the force of
his gaze.

“Take the brother,” he ordered.

It wasn’t until three pirates began to untie
Cullen that his words settled in her mind. Determined not to let
her guard down, she said in a contemptuous tone, “Don’t be a fool,
Rodrigo. What would you do with Cullen, when it’s me you really
want?”

He didn’t answer. One of the pirates wrestled
Cullen’s arms behind him. She heard his groan, followed by a
desperate plea. “Gabby!”

“He’s been ill,” she tried again, turning
back to Rodrigo. “He doesn’t travel well. Remember what you used to
say? That he slowed you down, tagging along behind? He hasn’t
changed, Rodrigo.”

Even as she spoke, the pirates forced Cullen
across the deck and lifted him onto the rail. With him struggling
every step of the way, they grappled him across the boards to their
own ship.

“Gabby, do something!”

She was truly scared now. Rushing after
Rodrigo, she took his arm in her hand and spun him around. “You
made me a promise, remember?”

He merely arched a brow. “I promised to free
you, your captain, and the crew. There was no mention made of your
brother.”

This wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a bluff. He
meant to kidnap her poor brother. She couldn’t allow it. It was
monstrous of him even to think of using Cullen like this.

Swallowing her pride, she said as calmly as
she could, “Very well. Take me instead.”

A faint smile grazed his sensuous mouth. “Too
late, Gabé. I’ve already given the command.”

“Then rescind your command, damn you!”

After a final lingering look, he walked away.
She followed and grabbed him again, speaking in low, earnest tones.
“He’s little more than a child, Rodrigo. He can’t get along without
me.”

“He’s what? Twenty years old? I think it’s
time he learned. I was thirteen when your countrymen hanged my
father and stole me from my homeland. Did anyone consider that I
was but a child?”

“It’s not the same. You were never like
Cullen. He’s—you know what he’s like. He doesn’t have your
strength.”

“If you mean he still hides behind his
sister’s all-too-convenient skirts, I consider it my duty to snatch
the boy. Your father decided it was in my interest for him to make
a new man of me. I now return the favor. You were always too
protective of Cullen and his damned Ashton blood. It kept him weak.
Six months at sea and we’ll make of him the man you couldn’t.”

He took the rope in his golden hand and as
before, swung the distance to his own ship. As he did, Wallace came
up behind Gabrielle and held her arms tight, making it impossible
for her to follow. She fought him like a wildcat, desperation
making her strong. But he held her easily. “Now, lass,” he cooed
softly, as if this were of no import at all. “Don’t get yerself in
a snit.”

Ignoring him, she called after her former
lover, this time with more of a pleading tone than she’d have
liked. “Rodrigo, you can’t do this. You of all people know what
Cullen means to me. He’s more than a brother, he’s like my son. I
swore when my mother died to die protecting him if I must. You
can’t take him from me.”

From his own deck, he turned and gave her a
cold look. “It’s done,” he said simply.

She fought Wallace again, crying out in
frustration as his beefy arms tightened on her and she couldn’t get
free. “This won’t make me love you again. I shall hate you till my
dying day.” When he ignored her, she threw back her head and called
out to him in a voice she used to reach the last row of the
theater. “If you do this, Rodrigo, I swear I’ll make you pay. I
shall have my revenge if it’s the last thing I do. Do you hear me?
Hastings will come after you with all his might. I never thought
I’d say this, but for once, I shall be on his side. We’ll destroy
you for this!”

He stopped and looked back at her for a
moment. Even from where she stood, she could see the hatred in his
eyes, the sense of betrayal that she should use his lifelong enemy
against him. She thought he’d speak to her, perhaps capitulate, so
intense were the emotions that flicked across his face. Instead, he
shifted his glance to Wallace. In a toneless voice he ordered,
“Fire the ship.”

Mahé Island, Seychelles

ONE MONTH LATER

Standing at the rail of the ship with the
other passengers, Gabrielle looked out on the island of Mahé—the
largest of the Seychelles archipelago. It was an odd and
fascinating sight. Mountains of black granite and lush green
vegetation in the middle of nowhere, jutting out from the ocean
suddenly after passing nothing but flat coral reefs. She’d been
told by the captain that these islands were submerged mountains,
and that’s exactly what they looked like—the tops of mountains
rising out of the tide.

Those mountains were misty now, covered with
varying shades of grey clouds that drifted along the tops of the
hills dreamily—not angry, but as if stroking them with loving,
lingering hands. The black of the granite was stark against the
green, protruding from the vegetation as if asserting its supremacy
over the landscape. The trees bowed reverentially in the sultry
breeze, like subjects paying homage to majesty.

It was raining when they arrived. Not the
chill rain of England, but a heavy, warm rain that nonetheless
cooled Gabrielle’s fevered skin. The heat was surprising and
oppressive, the air thick and humid, but strangely soft and
caressing at the same time. Her clothes were clinging damply to her
skin and her brow was dotted with perspiration. She felt so
confined, she longed to rip off her borrowed clothes and hurl
herself into the sea.

The harbor was small, protected as the island
curved around it on either side, and astonishingly empty, with only
a few ships and smaller vessels riding the waves. A far cry from
the bustle of Thames harbors back in London. Beyond, she could see
the meagerest glimpses of a town. Here and there a red-roofed
French colonial house dotted the hills. In the distance, glimpses
of plantations were shrouded in clouds. She thought of how many
times she’d imagined this awesome moment, and how now it had been
ruined. Maybe when she saw Beau Vallon...She wondered where it was,
and if she could see it from here.

Onshore was a tiny dock skirting the beach of
white sand. She could see a cortege of Europeans awaiting them,
huddled together beneath black umbrellas as if at a funeral. As
they drew closer, she recognized Hastings standing alone.

The passengers were loaded into smaller boats
and rowed in to shore. By the time Gabrielle arrived, Hastings was
already hearing the story of what had happened from one of the
members of the battered crew. How the passengers and crew were
forced into longboats, to be set adrift without provisions. How
Captain Watkins, still suffering from the loss of his ear, had
decried such treatment even as the Scotsman, Wallace, had reminded
him another ship would be along in a matter of days. How the sails
of the proud East Indiaman were set to flame, and the victims
watched from a distance as it burned and sank before their
eyes.

As she heard his words, it brought back
memories she’d rather forget. Only Gabrielle seemed to care that
her brother had been snatched from their midst. The others,
suffering from lack of supplies, kept their distance, silently
blaming her for their troubles. It was Gabrielle the pirate wanted.
If she’d gone with him, they’d have been spared the loss of a
valuable ship and all the possessions the passengers had in the
world. She’d brought this on their heads. Seeking a scapegoat, they
shunned her, glaring their accusations with self-righteous
eyes.

Only the thought of going after Cullen kept
her sane. Her urgency gave her the courage she needed. She had to
get her brother back, away from Rodrigo’s savage clutches.

She could see Hastings’s anger before she
could hear his words. He was dressed stiffly in black broadcloth as
if he were still in England. As he grew angrier, he let his
umbrella slide down his back, as if it were too much to fume and
hold it steady at the same time. His black hair grew slick with
rain, but he didn’t seem to notice. As she drew near, she could
hear his voice raised in indignation.

“Took the
brother
? This is
unconscionable!” In a temper, Hastings flung his umbrella to the
dock. An assistant scrambled forth to retrieve it. “That damned
Portuguese,” he added. “He jumped the gun.”

Suddenly she understood. A moment ago, she’d
been bent on burying old rivalries to seek a union of peaceful
cooperation. Now, boiling with anger, she charged at him, grabbed
his arm, and wheeled him around. “You used me! You brought me here
to use me as bait, didn’t you? Thinking I’d lead you to Rodrigo so
you could destroy him.”

He looked down his nose at her, without
greeting or welcome, as if continuing an argument that had raged
for days. “And what did you expect? That I brought you out here out
of my sense of charity?”

“You sniveling bastard! It’s your fault
Cullen’s in the danger he is. You have to get him back, Hastings.
Now.”

“I don’t give a hang about your precious
Cullen.”

“You don’t give a hang about anything.”

He stopped short and looked at her closely.
“Did you see him? Soro? Face-to-face?”

“I almost killed him.”

He began to storm about the dock. She could
almost hear the wheels of his brain churning fast. “Did he say
anything?”

“What, for instance?” she asked,
suspicious.

“Where his hideout was, for instance,” he
snapped. His insulting tone was forgotten in the sudden realization
that Rodrigo had said something curious. What was it?
When I
sail for D’Arros
...D’Arros! She’d barely heard it before,
hadn’t known what he meant. But of course! He’d told her the secret
of his hideout. Why? Had he let it slip? He wasn’t a man to reveal
anything he didn’t want disclosed. He’d wanted her to know, then.
Why? Certainly not so Hastings could use it to track him down.

With an actress’s calm, she looked him in the
eyes and lied. “No. He didn’t say a word.”

Hastings swore. “I might have known you’d be
of no help to me. I’m going to talk to the captain. Maybe he can be
of assistance.”

“I want to talk to the authorities,”
Gabrielle insisted. “About getting Cullen back.”

Hastings turned and gave her an evil,
self-satisfied smirk. “But Gabby. Don’t you remember? I
am
the authority. You might even say my word is law.”

As he continued down the pier, his assistant
called after him, “What should I do with her, Governor?”