Nicole Jordan (2 page)

Aurora recoiled in horror at seeing someone treated so viciously, without mercy. “For pity’s sake…” she murmured hoarsely. “Make them stop, Percy!”

“It is a naval matter,” her cousin replied in a grim tone, speaking in his role as lieutenant governor of St. Kitts. “I have no justification for interfering.”

“Dear God, they’ll beat him to death….” Without waiting for a reply, she picked up her skirts and ran toward the commotion.

“Aurora!” She heard Percy curse under his breath, but she never slowed her steps nor paused to consider the danger or the madness of intervening in the violent dispute.

She had no weapon at hand and no clear plan beyond attempting a rescue, but when she reached the guards, she swung her reticule at the nearest assailant and managed to hit the side of his face.

“What the ’ell…?”

When the startled seaman flinched at the unexpected attack, Aurora left off her flailing and pushed her way between the fallen prisoner and his assailants. Hiding her own fear, she sank to her knees, half covering the nearly unconscious man with her own body to shield him from being struck again.

The guard swore a vulgar oath.

Coldly furious, Aurora lifted her chin and stared up at him, silently daring him to strike her.

“Ma’am, ye’ve no business ’ere,” he declared angrily. “This man is a vicious pirate.”

“You, sir, may address me as
my lady
,” she replied, her normally serene voice almost fierce as she called upon the power of her rank. “My father is the Duke of Eversley and claims the Prince Regent and the Lord High Admiral among his close acquaintances.” She could see the sailor assessing her and her attire; her fashionable silk bonnet and walking dress were the gray of half mourning, with only a touch of lilac trim on the lapels of the spencer to relieve the severity.

“And this gentleman,” she added as Percy hurriedly reached her side, “is my cousin, Sir Percy Osborne, who happens to be lieutenant governor of Nevis and St. Kitts. I would think twice before challenging him.”

Percy’s jaw tightened at her declaration, and he murmured in disapproval, “Aurora, this is quite unseemly. You’re causing a spectacle.”

“It would be more unseemly to stand by while these cowards murder an unarmed man.”

Ignoring the guard’s glare, she glanced down at the injured prisoner. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to be conscious, for his jaw was clenched in pain. He still looked half savage—his skin glistening with sweat and blood, a growth of dark stubble shadowing his jaw.

His head seemed to have suffered the worst damage. Not only was his temple bleeding profusely, but his sun-streaked hair, a much darker gold than her own, was matted black with dried blood, evidently from an earlier injury.

Aurora tensed as her gaze dropped lower, yet even so, she felt her heartbeat quicken. The raw masculinity that had unnerved her at a distance was even more obvious this close, the sinewy hardness of his body unmistakable. His sun-bronzed chest and shoulders rippled with muscle, while the canvas breeches hugged his powerful thighs.

Then he opened his eyes and fixed them on her. His gaze was dark, the rich hue of coffee flecked with amber. His intent stare gave her the same jolting sensation she’d felt earlier: the feeling of being totally alone with him, along with a keen awareness of her femininity.

Nearly as strange were the tender feelings of protectiveness his injuries engendered. Gently Aurora reached up to wipe the smear of blood from his forehead.

Chains jangling, he grasped her wrist. “Don’t,” he muttered hoarsely. “Stay out of this…you’ll be hurt.”

Her skin burned where his fingers touched, but she tried to ignore the sensation, just as she disregarded his entreaty. At the moment she was less interested in protecting herself than in saving his life. “You don’t expect me to watch your murder, do you?”

The pained smile he gave her was fleeting as he released her wrist and struggled to push himself up on his elbows. For a moment he dizzily shut his eyes.

“You need a doctor,” Aurora said in alarm.

“No…I have a hard head.”

“Obviously not hard enough.”

She had forgotten they weren’t alone, until her cousin leaned over her shoulder and gave an exclamation of dismay. “Good God…Sabine!”

“You know him?” Aurora asked.

“Indeed, I do. He owns half the merchant ships in the Caribbean. He’s an American…. Nick, what the devil are you doing here?”

He grimaced in pain. “An unfortunate encounter with the British navy, I fear.”

Aurora realized his speech was much softer and flatter than her own clipped sounds as her cousin turned to the guards and demanded an explanation.

“What is the meaning of this? Why is this man in chains?”

The guards were spared having to reply when their commanding officer joined them. Aurora remembered having met Captain Richard Gerrod at some polite government function a few weeks before.

“I can answer that, your excellency,” Gerrod said coolly. “He is bound in chains because he is a prisoner of war, condemned to be hanged for piracy and murder.”

“Murder, captain? That is frankly absurd. You must have heard of Nicholas Sabine,” Percy insisted, pronouncing the American’s name Sah-
bean
. “He is a hero in these parts, not a murderer. Obviously you have mistaken his identity.”

“I assure you I have mistaken nothing. He was recognized by one of my officers on Montserrat, where he was reckless and arrogant enough to visit a woman in the midst of a war. He most certainly
is
the notorious pirate Captain Saber. Not only has he commandeered at least two British merchantmen since the war began, but he sank the HMS
Barton
just last month.”

“It was my understanding,” said Percy, “that the
Barton
’s crew was saved from drowning by that same pirate and deposited on the nearest isle.”

“Yes, but a seaman died in that engagement and several more were injured. And Sabine nearly killed one of my crew yesterday while resisting arrest. He has indeed committed acts of war against the Crown, Sir Percy. Acts punishable by death.”

Percy turned to the fallen man. “Is this true, Sabine? You’re a pirate?”

Sabine’s half smile held cold anger. “In America we use the term
privateer
, and we’ve never yielded the right to protect our own ships. The
Barton
was attacking one of my merchantmen and I intervened. As for commandeering your vessels, I considered it a fair exchange for the loss of two of my own.”

Aurora wasn’t as horrified as perhaps she should have been at the accusation of piracy. With their two countries at war, Britain considered any armed American ship culpable. And Sabine should indeed have a right to defend his own ships. She knew her cousin would agree. Though such political beliefs were disloyal to the Crown, Percy considered the war a mistake and Britain primarily at fault for instigating it. The charge of murder, however, disturbed her greatly….

“Pirate or not,” Percy said to the captain, obviously troubled, “there will be ramifications for taking this man prisoner. Are you aware Mr. Sabine has any number of connections to the Crown? Including several island governors as well as the commander of the Caribbean fleet?”

The captain scowled. “His connections are all that stopped me from hanging him out of hand. But I doubt that will save him. When Admiral Foley learns of his crimes, I’m certain the order will be given to execute him.” Grimly Captain Gerrod looked down at Aurora. “My lady, you would do best to keep away. He is a dangerous man.”

She suspected the American was indeed dangerous, but that hardly justified the guards’ vicious brutality.

“Oh, indeed,” she said scornfully, rising to face the captain from her full height. “So dangerous your crew must beat him senseless, even with him trussed up like a Christmas goose. I quite fear for my life.”

Gerrod’s lips tightened in anger, but Percy quickly intervened.

“What do you intend to do with him, Captain?”

“He’ll be turned over to the garrison commander and imprisoned in the fortress until he can be executed.”

Aurora felt her heart clench at the thought of this vital man losing his life. “Percy…” she implored, gazing at him.

“I’ll thank you, excellency,” Gerrod said darkly, “not to interfere with the performance of my duty. Get to your feet, pirate.”

Sabine’s lip curled, his simmering hatred of the captain evident in the blistering heat of his dark eyes. But his fury remained tightly controlled as he struggled to his knees.

Aurora helped him stand, lending support when he swayed, and felt her pulse quicken as his hard body momentarily leaned against her. Even bruised and bloodied, the overwhelming maleness of him affected her.

Her cousin must have been reminded of the impropriety, for Percy gently grasped her arm and drew her away. “Come, my dear.”

Obviously stiff with pain, Sabine moved toward the wagon. Aurora flinched when she saw the bloody lacerations marring his broad shoulders and muscular back, and again when one of the burly guards grasped his arm and urged him into the wagon.

Helpless, Aurora bit her lip to keep from crying out in protest.

Captain Gerrod gave her a stern glance as both guards climbed in after the prisoner, but he addressed her cousin. “I hadn’t planned on escorting the prisoner to the fortress—I should be preparing my frigate to sail for the American seacoast to join the naval blockade. But I see I must, to ensure my orders are carried out to the letter.”

“I intend to visit the fortress myself,” Aurora threatened rashly, fearing what they would do to their prisoner once they were alone. “If you dare beat him further, I promise you will regret it.”

She felt her cousin’s fingers tighten on her arm in warning and barely refrained from shaking off his grasp.

The captain gave a stiff, angry bow, and then climbed into the front passenger seat and ordered the elderly black driver to drive on. Aurora and Percy watched as the pair of draft horses drew the wagon away.

“You will
not
involve yourself further, Aurora,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Stubbornly she freed her arm from his tight grip. “You don’t condone such vicious treatment, I’m sure of it. If Mr. Sabine were an English prisoner in American hands, you would expect him to be dealt with humanely.”

“Of course I would.”

“What will happen to him?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

Percy didn’t respond at once, which confirmed her worst fears.

“Surely there will be a trial,” Aurora protested. “They wouldn’t hang someone of his consequence at once, would they?”

“It may not come to hanging,” her cousin answered grimly. “The admiral might very well show leniency.”

“And if not? Can you intervene?”

“I have the authority to overrule an admiral’s commands, but doing so would perhaps mean the end of my political career. My views on the war are frowned upon as it is. And setting free a condemned prisoner would likely be considered treason. Piracy and murder are grave charges, my dear.”

Aurora gazed back at Percy bleakly. “You must at least send a doctor to see to his injuries.”

“Of course. I’ll speak to the garrison commander myself and see that Sabine receives proper medical care.”

She stared into his blue eyes that were so much like her own and could read the concern there—as well as the comment he didn’t voice.

What did it matter if Nicholas Sabine’s wounds were treated if he shortly was to hang?

Percy’s wife was alarmed by the bloody condition of Aurora’s gown, but less appalled by the reason than might be expected.

“I don’t know that I would have had the courage to intervene,” Jane said thoughtfully when she’d heard the tale.

The two women were alone in Aurora’s bedchamber. After Percy had escorted her to his plantation home and then left to fulfill his promise regarding the prisoner’s medical treatment, Aurora’s maid had helped her change her gown and then took it away for cleaning. Lady Osborne remained to get a more detailed, private accounting of the morning’s events.

“I don’t think it particularly courageous to stop a man from being beaten to death,” Aurora retorted, still outraged by the morning’s incident. “And my intervention seems to have done little to change his fate.”

“Mr. Sabine has prominent family in England,” Jane said more soothingly. “The Earl of Wycliff is his second cousin. Besides possessing enormous wealth, Wycliff has always commanded a great deal of power in government circles. He could very well intercede on his cousin’s behalf.”

“They may hang him long before news of his imprisonment reaches England,” Aurora replied darkly.

“Aurora, you haven’t developed a
tendre
for Sabine, have you?”

She felt herself flush. “How could I? I met the man only this morning, and just for a moment. We were not even formally introduced.”

“Good. Because frankly he isn’t at all a proper sort of gentleman, despite his connections. Indeed, I suspect he is rather dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“To our sex, I mean. He’s an adventurer and something of a rake—and an American, besides.”

“Percy called him a hero.”

“I suppose he is. He saved the lives of some two hundred planters during a slave revolt on St. Lucia a few years ago. But that hardly makes him acceptable. Common gossip says he is the black sheep of his family who spent his adulthood traveling alien lands and engaging in any manner of wild exploits. Only after his father died did he become the least respectable—and only because he inherited a fortune and took over the family business interests.”

“You haven’t accused him of being much worse than half the wild young bucks in England.”

“He is indisputably worse, I assure you. Otherwise he would never have been accorded membership in the notorious Hellfire League, despite being sponsored by his cousin, Lord Wycliff.”

The Hellfire League, Aurora knew, was an exclusive club of the premier rakes in England, dedicated to pleasure and debauchery. If Sabine was a member of that licentious association, he was indeed wicked.