In Like Flynn, page 15
She stared at him a long moment, weighing his words.
“That’s all?”
Nicholas nodded. “There was nothing else to tell. They will be chasing ships along the route to Cádiz searching for you. Now you can avoid them easily.”
She slowly turned her back on him as she walked toward the windows and faced the sea.
“I have to warn my father,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“So it’s true, then? You are the pirate king’s daughter?”
“Does that surprise you?” Brianna asked.
“I’ve heard Buck is an extraordinary man. It’s only natural his child would be as well.”
She half turned her head his way and raised her cutlass at him. “Your flattery is no longer welcome, traitor. You won’t get what you want. I won’t let you hurt my father.”
“I only wanted to protect you,” Flynn said.
Brianna almost laughed. “While everyone I care about is shot or hangs? Be still, my racing heart—such gallant nobility will surely make me swoon.” She sneered, and her eyes took on a wild, predatory look. She sheathed her cutlass, then unfastened the belt that held it and her pistol and tossed them onto the bed.
She approached him without fear now, and it made Flynn a bit uneasy. He backed up a step as she placed her finger on his jaw and raised it up ever so slightly.
“Besides, you shared my bed—isn’t that enough?”
What the devil was she playing at?
“As if one night with you would ever be enough,” he said, allowing the rogue in him to resurface. She was toying with him, like a cat with a mouse, but if this was to be his last intimate moment with her, he wished to enjoy it. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his embrace, holding her captive to his passion for perhaps one last time.
He lowered his head to hers, and she didn’t fight him. Brianna’s mouth opened beneath his, and he kissed her like a man possessed. She pushed at his chest lightly, then seemed to change her mind and burrowed closer as their lips fought for dominance. He nipped her bottom lip, and she flicked her tongue against his, each sensing a sensual battle between them. Yes, he would never have enough of this woman, but luck was with him because he wouldn’t be alive long enough to suffer the rest of his life without her touch or kiss.
Then, as soon it had begun, she jerked away, the back of her hand coming up to touch her lips as she stared at him in anguish.
“That is the last you shall ever taste of me. All that is left is to decide your fate.” She went back to the bed and put her belt and weapons back on.
“So what is it to be, then?” Flynn asked.
“By all rights, I should maroon you. It’s better than you deserve.” Though she did not shout, there was anger in her words, hiding the pain he saw in her eyes.
“But you won’t, my beautiful pirate queen,” he said, playing the only card he had left. “For the same reason you didn’t maroon your crew.”
“I was going to,” she countered.
“And you would have hated yourself for the rest of your days if you had. It didn’t take much to convince you to show mercy, because that is what is in your heart. That same sense of mercy is what bound my fate to yours back in Port Royal. Don’t allow my actions to turn you into a monster, Brianna. If they do, I’ll have failed you in every way, and I truly would prefer death to seeing that.” She had too much heart, too much soul to do anything so cruel, even to someone like him who had hurt and betrayed her.
Her eyes narrowed. “Damn you to the depths, Flynn,” she said and left the cabin, leaving his fate uncertain.
He sank to the floor, resting his back against the wall and closing his eyes. It was going to be a long night.
Brianna ignored the looks of her crew who were on deck as she crossed to the mainmast and began to scale the rigging. She reached the crow’s nest and leaned back against the mast. It was her favorite part of the ship. Few men came up here, so it gave her a chance to have some time alone and watch the sea. She also found the sway of it, noticeable even in calm seas, strangely relaxing.
They would set sail within the hour. They still had to round up the rest of the crew on shore, but once they were aboard, they would set sail for Saint Kitts since the wind was with them and the tide was going out. If the navy was prowling for her father, he had to be warned. The navy had been hunting him for years, but something felt different now. To send a spy into the midst of her crew—that was a new trick and far bolder than the navy’s usual tactics. Who knew what other means they were pursuing at this moment? She had to see her father so he could make plans to escape, just in case.
The more she thought about it, however, the more she realized that wasn’t the reason. It was the excuse. Buck had evaded capture for twenty years and under worse circumstances than this. No, what was different this time . . . was her.
As much as Brianna didn’t want to think about it, she knew that things would have to change. Her father couldn’t run from the navy forever. Sooner or later, the nets would close around him. No one could run forever. The question was, could they stop running and avoid capture? What would their lives be like without the freedom of the sea? What would her life be like?
She watched the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon until the last remnants of its glow faded from the surface of the sea. And with it, her heart sank deeper and deeper. What was she going to do about Flynn? The smart thing to do would be to simply kill him herself. She had brought him on board, so the burden belonged to her.
But she wasn’t like that and never could be like that. Flynn was right. She didn’t want to become a monster.
Brianna tucked her legs up under her chin. For the first time in her life, Brianna felt truly alone. Something inside her had changed, and she couldn’t go back to her old self. Everything was different now. The carefree wanderer she had been, Thomas Buck’s daughter, was losing her grasp on the world.
Flynn would be her ruin. She had sensed it the moment he’d walked into her jail cell, and that worry had borne disastrous fruit.
What the devil was she to do about him?
Reese Belishaw threw back the last of his ale and slammed his mug down with a contented sigh. His crew filled the tavern, and he smiled as he saw the faces of men he trusted with his life. But no matter how long he might have captained the Emerald Dragon, he would never be her first captain, her true captain. That honor would always belong to Dominic Grey.
He missed Dom. All of them did. But Dominic’s path had changed the moment he’d abducted Admiral Harcourt’s daughter. He’d nearly swung from the gallows before a lucky rescue had spared him the noose, but his salvation had come at a great cost. Dominic’s pirate days were over. He was a husband and the future Earl of Camden, of all things, and that was enough for him. So Dominic had passed the Dragon to Reese, and the crew had agreed to serve under him. But it still felt strangely temporary. As if at any moment Dominic might come back aboard the ship and take over.
“Cap’n?” Chibbs, his first mate, appeared in front of him, breathless and red-faced from running from wherever he had been. Chibbs’s merry, round-shaped face and lively demeanor had earned trust and affection from even the roughest of pirates.
“What is it, Chibbs?”
“It’s Flynn, Cap’n. Somethin’ is wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Reese stood, his hand reaching for his belt where his pistol hung.
“Someone from the Sea Serpent lured him out of a tavern down the road and, well, hit him hard enough to knock him out. I saw them carrying Flynn off. I thought to meeself that it didn’t look right. I mean, he came to us, saying he wanted us to partner with the Serpent not so long ago, see if Cap’n Holland would chase prizes with us. So I asked meeself, why would Cap’n Holland’s first mate nab Flynn like that?”
“The first mate?” Reese echoed.
“Aye, it was Joe McBride himself who knocked him out.”
Something was definitely wrong. Reese could smell it. “Has the Serpent left port yet?”
“Just now, the crew were called back to the ship. What should we do?”
“Send word to Dominic at King’s Landing. He’ll want to know. Did you find out where the Serpent is heading? Are they still headed for Cádiz?”
“No, sir. Word by the dock is they’re bound for Saint Kitts.”
“Saint Kitts . . . ,” Reese began.
“Aye, Cap’n. She’s headed to Buck’s nest. I’d say something’s got her spooked.”
“But what?” Reese whispered to himself. “Brianna never risks visiting her father when there are naval frigates prowling the waters like this. She must have a damned good reason to go to him.”
“You don’t think . . . ?” Chibbs began, his face deepening to a dark shade of red.
“Think what?”
“Well . . . that perhaps she and Flynn got too close on her ship and now she might be in the family way? It would explain why Flynn might be carried back to the ship against his will. Mayhap she wants the old man to force Flynn to make an honest woman out of her?”
Reese chuckled at that. He supposed it was possible, but he never thought Brianna Holland would settle down. No, this felt far more serious than a wedding held at the end of a blunderbuss.
“Whatever the reason, we should follow them and find out what to do in order to save Flynn, assuming he needs rescuing. Find the crew and tell them we’re going on a rescue mission for Flynn. I think the lads will agree to go.”
“Aye, they will. No one would let anything happen to Captain Dom’s best mate.”
“No, we wouldn’t.” Flynn would have followed Dominic to the very end of the farthest horizon, and Dominic’s former crew would do the same for Dominic’s friend.
We’re coming, Flynn, Reese promised himself. As he stepped out of the tavern, he looked up into the clear Caribbean skies and took a deep breath. A storm was coming.
CHAPTER 13
Admiral Charles Harcourt finished reading the letter aloud in front of the young midshipman who had delivered it to him. It had come from one of their more reliable spies in Sugar Cove. He set the letter down and weighed his options. “Interesting.”
The young man who had carried the letter into Charles’s office stood even straighter at attention, if such a thing were possible. “What are your orders, sir?”
“Well . . . it seems we are to sail for Saint Kitts.”
“Sir?” the young man asked, confused. “But the letter said that Lieutenant Flynn—”
“Yes, our man relayed Lieutenant Flynn’s directions, but he also said he’d heard on the docks that the Sea Serpent is bound for Saint Kitts.”
“Does that mean you think Flynn lied to us, sir?”
Charles shook his head. “Flynn is our man, through and through. He wouldn’t try to misdirect me, not for some pirates.” Even as he said it, one worry niggled at him. Flynn had seemed to bond to the young Holland woman enough to want to protect her. Could this have somehow changed Flynn’s allegiance? Surely not.
Then again, he had seen firsthand how a woman, especially a clever, beautiful one, could change a man’s destiny. His own daughter had done that by saving Dominic Greyville, one of the Caribbean’s most notorious pirates, from the gallows. Who was to say it could not happen the other way and just as easily doom someone?
The midshipman was still trying to puzzle it all out. “So Flynn didn’t lie . . .”
“No, but if they are taking a different course, then the pirates may be onto him. He could very well be in danger. All the more reason for us to make haste for Saint Kitts.” Charles scribbled a few letters and then handed them to the midshipman to deliver to the four captains with ships currently docked at Port Royal. Thankfully the crews weren’t on shore but had recently returned to their ships within the last few hours. They would be ready to leave quickly.
They would sail for Saint Kitts within the hour. Weather permitting, they could reach the island at the same time Flynn and the pirates did. Perhaps Thomas Buck would be among them. If only luck would grant him that. He looked over his charts to consider the best possible route to take.
A few minutes later, the door to his office burst open and Captain Waverly stormed in.
“Is it true? You’re going after the Holland boy?” Waverly’s dark eyes blazed with cruel excitement.
Charles frowned. It was his duty to uphold the law, but there should be no thrill or joy in condemning another man to death. Souls who wandered off the path of lawful behavior were to be mourned and pitied, not salivated after like a hound treeing a terrified fox. And Waverly was nothing short of a sadist.
“We are pursuing a possible lead,” Charles answered carefully, but Waverly seemed quite able to read him.
“It must be some lead, Admiral, if you are mobilizing every ship in port. I will have a contingent of my men ready to sail on your ships and lead them personally.”
“Really, Captain, you need not do that. This is a naval matter, after all. We are looking into a possible sighting.” Charles knew he could refuse to take soldiers, as he was the real seat of power in the fort, but refusing to let the soldiers come if they did encounter Buck could put his ability to hold his position in jeopardy.
“And if you should come across Buck’s lair? If there is any fighting to be done upon the land, you will need my men,” Waverly reminded him with a cold smile.
“Captain, really—” Charles started, but Waverly had already spun and walked away.
“Damnation,” Charles muttered. Now he would have to worry about keeping Waverly away from Nicholas and the Holland girl. The captain had developed a personal hatred for Holland and even Nicholas. Charles would very much like to prevent whatever might occur should the two men meet again.
Perhaps if Charles found Buck, that would keep Waverly’s interest away from Nicholas. He could only hope, because he was fond of Nicholas. The man was the son he’d never had, and he wasn’t about to let some sadistic madman like Waverly do him harm.
Sleeping chained to the wall was not how Nicholas would have preferred to spend the last two nights. He’d woken up briefly the first night to see the cabin boy remove a few of Brianna’s things out of the room. The second night, Joe had paid him a visit with some questions that had left Nicholas aching with bruised ribs and a sore jaw.
Patrick was the only crew member he had seen for the last three days, aside from Joe. The cabin boy had emptied the chamber pot, and brought him food and drink as well as a sponge and water for bathing. He was talkative enough whenever Nicholas spoke to him. However, when Nicholas asked the lad how Brianna was faring, the boy flushed.
“I’m not supposed to say,” Patrick said. “She’s very angry.”
“At me?”
Flynn chuckled wryly at the boy’s wide-eyed nod.
“What—what did you say to her?” Patrick asked in a grave whisper.
“She hasn’t told you?”
“No. No one knows you’re in here but me, Joe, and the captain. The rest still think you’re in Sugar Cove.”
“So if the captain isn’t sleeping here, where is she staying?”
“She’s sleeping in Joe’s cabin.”
Flynn suddenly leapt to his feet. Had the girl moved on so quickly? With Joe? He had to be, what, twenty years her—
“Joe’s sleeping on the floor,” Patrick added, his voice hushed.
“Oh. So they aren’t . . . ?”
“Aren’t what?” Patrick asked, and a knowing look reached his face. “You think they’re tupping?” The boy suddenly laughed. “Lord no, Mr. Flynn. Joe wouldn’t . . . not with the captain. He’s like an uncle to her, practically helped raise her. And right now they fight too much to—”
“Well, sometimes fighting leads to tupping,” Nicholas muttered darkly, then paused to consider what Patrick had said. “What are they fighting about?”
“You, of course. Joe wants to hang you from the yardarm, but the captain won’t do it. She says you’re worth more alive than dead.”
“How comforting,” Nicholas sighed. “Can you tell me where we’re headed?” He could only see endless bright blue water through the tall windows of the captain’s quarters.
“Well . . . I suppose I can tell you, on account of you helping me before. We’re approaching Saint Kitts.”
“Saint Kitts? Why there?” He knew there were rumored to be pirates in Saint Kitts who attacked sugar-laden ships bound for England, but nearly every island in the West Indies had its pirate nests. Saint Kitts, like most of the islands around it, had a legacy of bloodshed, with the French and British massacring the Carib people who lived on the island in the middle of the seventeenth century.
“Are we docking at Basseterre?” It was the island’s capital city. If Flynn had to guess, that’s where he would make berth.
“Eat up, Mr. Flynn. We’ll be docking soon.” Patrick rushed away, leaving Flynn alone in the cabin with his questions unanswered and his food untouched at his feet. He flexed his wrist, testing the strength of the manacle that kept him bound here.
A soft voice came from the doorway behind him. “Planning your escape?”
Flynn shot Brianna a wicked grin over his shoulder. “Naturally.” He was a man facing death, and he wanted to laugh madly in defiance.
“Rumor has it we’re docking at Basseterre,” he said, watching her face for a reaction to his guess. Her eyes widened slightly and her lips parted before she could stop herself.
“Patrick . . . ,” she growled, her fists clenching. He’d heard men describe women as being in a “fine fury,” and now he could understand the phrase. She was lovely—more than lovely. She still wore her snug breeches, and her shapely calves were on display beneath her white stockings. Her trim waist was molded by her waistcoat, and her long gold hair flowed behind her, loosely tied with a ribbon. She was every inch a pirate queen. He would have done anything to take her into his arms again and taste her, to feel the wild pulse at her throat as he nuzzled her neck and the warm breath of her sighs in his ears as he made love to her. Instead, he fisted his hands at his sides to keep from foolishly reaching for her.
