Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (35 page)

With all his senses alerted, a surge of energy rushed through him, reviving his tired body. He lived not for the plunder but the challenge and a good fight. May it now be so.

The sound of a cannon’s boom echoed in the distance. Lark grabbed his spyglass and shouted to Lieutenant Monroe, “Silva’s brigantine is attacking the
Morning Star
! All men to their posts!”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Monroe rushed away, leaving Lark alone on the bridge. Men ran hither and yon below him, readying their swords and muskets while the gunners stood at attention behind the large, formidable cannons. The men on the four navy ships followed similar orders. With their sails at full mast, the ships pressed solidly forward as one body. So many men and so much firepower almost certainly spelled doom for Manuel Silva, however, Lark had learned never to underestimate the cunning pirate. And he wouldn’t do so now.

Another boom exploded, this one was from the
Morning Star
and seconds later, the smaller ship protecting the frigate struck back with cannon fire. “Men, hold your fire until we’re closer!” Lark commanded from the bridge. “Aim only to cripple the brigantine, not destroy it!”

“But, sir,” Monroe protested from the deck, “our orders are to wipe out Silva and his crew.”

“You’re on my ship and will follow my orders! There’s a woman on board Silva’s brigantine. Under no circumstances do I want her harmed!”

Monroe opened his mouth to speak but evidently thought better of it so he clamped it shut. With a disgruntled air, he returned to his post.

“Damn military men!” muttered Lark under his breath and scanned the horizon through the spyglass. From what he could see and the cannon explosions he heard, Lark determined that Silva’s crew had turned their attention to the smaller ship that acted as a buffer for the
Morning Star
. Evidently, the pirate decided that it was better to be rid of the companion vessel before using full force against the frigate. Lark didn’t doubt for a second that Silva would be successful. His sleek-hulled brigantine could maneuver the ocean currents swiftly and easily. The frigate wouldn’t stand a chance any other time. But he doubted very much that Silva anticipated five ships bearing down upon him. An easy victory appeared likely because Silva’s brigantine was outnumbered. But Lark knew Silva well enough to realize that he’d never be captured so easily. It wasn’t the promised booty that drove Manuel Silva but the chase, the smell of gunpowder and burning timbers that stirred his soul. He’d always survive to fight another day.

By now, Silva must have seen the four navy ships and Her Ladyship quickly approaching the brigantine to realize his inevitable defeat. But Silva wasn’t the type to surrender or be taken prisoner. What would he do?

It was then Lark spied the small sloop following behind the brigantine. “Good, God!” he exclaimed as a shudder of apprehension raced through him. He knew exactly what Silva planned to do. “Break away from the formation and head south!” Lark shouted to Holcombe who steered the ship. Holcombe nodded, instantly obeying.

Lieutenant Monroe broke away from the gunners he’d been commanding upon hearing Lark’s order. His young face was livid with rage. “Captain, sir, breaking formation is against the admiral’s orders. I won’t allow this to happen. Such a course is foolhardy and will lead us wide open to attack.”

Lark had had enough of Monroe and his men. They’d boarded his ship only to offer assistance, but he’d made it earlier understood to the admiral that his orders were to be implicitly followed. Marlee’s life might very well depend upon breaking formation and sailing south. No one was going to disobey him, especially not a young, wet-behind-the-ears officer. He glanced down at Monroe from his higher position on the bridge, the bridled anger in his voice was sharper than finely edged steel. “Are you threatening mutiny, Lieutenant Monroe?”

Very much aware of the gazes of his men upon him and not wishing to appear cowardly before the daunting pirate hunter, Monroe defiantly thrust out his chest. “If need be, sir, yes, I am. The concerns of my men must be placed before the fate of one woman.”

“How very ungallant of you, Lieutenant.” Lark grasped the pistol that was tucked in his waistband and shot an ominously black look over the assembled military men. Then he whistled shrilly and his own crew broke away from their posts to silently surround Monroe and his men. The men who’d sailed and remained with Lark since New Providence were seasoned fighters. They were few in number compared to the navy men, not as polished—a motley assortment, to be certain—but they were tough as old shoe leather and would fight to the death, if the need arose. Every one was loyal to their captain, more so than to any admiral or king. And Lark knew this was the deciding factor in avoiding a mutiny. “My crew is not cowardly; they’ll fight with me and do what I command without question. If there is to be a mutiny aboard my ship I won’t be the one thrown overboard, I assure you, Lieutenant. I trust you and your men can swim.”

Monroe’s pale face flushed in humiliation. There was nothing to do but follow Lark’s instructions. “You’re the captain, sir.” Turning on his heels, he fled to the opposite end of the deck.

“Well-handled,” complimented Holcombe.

Lark sighed, stroking his hand through his dark hair. “I hope I can handle Silva as well.” And bring Marlee home.

~ ~ ~

The battle was going badly.

The brigantine had fired a number of volleys in the direction of the frigate’s companion, even hitting it broadside. But the small ship continued firing, and then the frigate, too. None of this bothered Silva—he knew he’d be able to wear down the English sailors in time. But then he saw the five ships approaching and realized he couldn’t defend himself against so much collective artillery. ‘‘
Madre de Dios
,” he lowly declared. “The English will sink us.” When a cannonball from the
Morning Star
hit the brigantine’s hull and caused extensive damage, Manuel realized the doomed outcome. Yet he felt immense pride because five ships, the frigate, and its smaller companion ship were needed to capture his one. The sloop, however, wouldn’t be captured.

From the formation of the five English ships, they were headed straight for the brigantine. The frigate was no longer his main interest—self-survival was. Manuel stood on the quarter deck and waved a green flag at the sloop, following a short distance behind the brigantine. Immediately, Diego signaled back with a matching flag.

Time was of the essence, he knew, and must act quickly. The brigantine would be used as a decoy while he made his escape with Marlee. Rushing down the deck and past his men, some of whom loaded the cannons to point at the English ships which loomed ever closer, Manuel ceased to be calm. Usually during a battle he never expressed nervousness—in fact, never was afraid. But now he was and he wasn’t certain why. A strange, clawing sensation in his chest which he’d never before experienced threatened to suffocate him. He must escape so he could breathe freely again.

~ ~ ~

Marlee watched the five ships approaching from the window seat. She’d stayed in place even when the brigantine took the cannonball. The impact rocked the ship with such force that she nearly rolled off the cushion. Their flags proclaimed them as belonging to the English navy, and she guessed they’d been sent from Bermuda. But there was one ship that broke away from the other four and appeared to be sailing as to go around the brigantine instead of straight toward it. She couldn’t stop staring at it, almost transfixed by it, before she recognized the flag on the mast that blew wildly in the stiff sea breezes as belonging to Her Ladyship.

“Lark!” Her jubilant cry echoed in the cabin. For the first time she truly felt she was going to be rescued. Lark was coming for her, really and truly coming to take her away from Silva. “Hurry, my darling, hurry, please,” she whispered as a warm, happy glow filled her.

So engrossed was she in the stirring scene before her, she didn’t hear Manuel releasing the bar on the door or entering the room until he was upon her and scooping her into his arms like a demented fiend. “What are you doing!” she cried but was still so weak she didn’t have the strength to push at him.

Manuel didn’t reply. He looked nothing like the polished pirate she’d come to know and hate. His hair was wildly tousled, his black shirt was torn and smelled of gunpowder from the fray above deck. There was something feral and vicious in the way he looked at her, almost as if he were a hunted animal that was now trapped. Stark and vivid fear swept through her. “Leave me here, Manuel. Where are you taking me?”

“Quiet!” His shout sounded like a growl.

With Marlee in his arms, Manuel ran out of the cabin like a man possessed by inner demons. In the dark passageway, they nearly collided with Rosalina whose dark eyes were round and flecked with terror. She clutched at Silva’s arm. “Are you boarding the sloop, Manuel? Take me with you,
sí
, take me with you! I don’t want to be at the mercy of the English. They’ll kill me, I know they will!”

Another volley hit the brigantine, knocking Manuel against the wall. Rosalina fell to the floor, her frightened screams sliced the air. Her hands grabbed him around the ankle, nearly tripping him. “Take me with you, Manuel! Please don’t leave me here to die!”

Manuel shook her hands off of him. He deliberately kicked out at her and his booted foot hit her squarely in the face. She squealed in pain and doubled over. “Never touch me,
puta
! I don’t care what happens to you. Get out of my way!”

Marlee’s horrified gaze saw the blood seeping from between the fingers Rosalina held against her face. And that was the last time she ever laid eyes upon the woman.

They burst through the door that led onto the deck. A dark, ghostly haze covered everything, obscuring visibility. The acrid smell of gunpowder wafted over them. The pirate crew ran in uncontrolled abandon, no longer able to douse the small fires that had started in different portions of the ship. Bright flames wantonly slithered like an orange snake toward the powder room door. “
Madre de Dios
, we’ve got to get to the sloop before this ship blows up.” Manuel coughed hoarsely and hurried along the deck, dodging the panicked members of his crew.

Marlee’s eyes burned, her throat felt raw, and the smoke hung so heavily in the air that she was unable to draw a good breath. Out of the black mist, the sloop appeared.

The men on the sloop stood near the railing and ran a boarding plank between the sloop and the brigantine. The pirates pressed forward in fear of being left aboard the burning brigantine. A pistol shot deafeningly rang out, stalling the brigantine’s crew. “The captain and his lady board first!” shouted Diego from the sloop. “I’ll shoot any man who tries to go before them.”

“
Sí
,
sí
, hurry before the ship explodes!” Renaldo hysterically cried. The other pirates raised their voices in panic but moved aside for Manuel. He was, after all, their trusted captain.

Manuel nimbly spanned the distance with Marlee in his arms. Before she was aware of it, they were safely on the sloop. “Push the boarding plank into the ocean, even if someone is trying to come across,” he commanded Diego and the sloop’s crewmen who clustered around him for instructions. “There’s no time to save anyone. Set sail now!”

Marlee heard the enraged shouts from the brigantine, followed by pleading cries. Manuel sat her on a crate while he took over as captain of the sloop. In no time they were a distance away from the brigantine but she could still make out the figures of people running on deck, jumping into the ocean to escape the searing flames.

Her heart contracted in pity for them. No matter that they were scurvy pirates, they were still human beings, and Manuel had abandoned them. “You should have helped them,” she coldly proclaimed to Manuel when he came to stand beside her. “You’re a hateful monster—”

Marlee’s words were interrupted by the distressingly loud explosion of the brigantine. Scarlet and orange flames turned the ocean into a furnace and lit the sky with golden drops of fire. Debris flew in every direction and haphazardly tumbled to litter the water’s surface.

“Oh, God!” was all Marlee could say and clutched her throat in absolute horror.

“Marlee, you’re wrong about me,” he said with such control over his facial features that he might have been a statue. “If I were a monster, as you said, then I’d have left you to burn in that inferno. Regard yourself as lucky that I love you.”

Tears sparkled in her eyes when she steeled herself to remove her gaze from the ocean and look at this spawn of the devil. “Because of your—perverted love—I was taken on board the brigantine in the first place. You don’t know anything about love, Manuel, nothing about love.”

“And I suppose you’ll tell me that Arden knew a great deal about love,” he vindictively snapped at her. “In time you’ll forget the bastard.”

“No, I won’t. Lark’s coming to rescue me.”

“And how can you be so certain of that? We’ve outrun the English navy ships, soon we’ll be home in Saint Augustine.”

“I doubt that,” she said softly as she riveted her sapphire gaze on the swelling ocean and the familiar ship coming toward them at an angle, “because Lark is already here.”