The Reliance, page 22
A warmth settled over him—at first he thought due to the rum. But then his heart began to beat faster.
Charlisse.
A strong sense of her presence came over him. His anxious gaze roamed across the crowd. Had he gone mad? What devilry was this? Charlisse was dead. He rubbed his eyes and cursed. Would he ever be free of her?
“Open yer eyes. Open yer eyes,” the parrot repeated from above him.
A commotion at the bar attracted his gaze. A young boy, sporting a captain’s hat, stood arguing with two beefy pirates. Merrick sipped his rum, unable to pull his eyes from the squabble, even though he’d seen a thousand such altercations before.
Collier slammed down his bottle and stood, pulling Elisa up with him.
Merrick’s attention snapped back. He had bigger problems than the short captain did. He must somehow protect the governor’s daughter. But how?
“Gentlemen,” Collier bellowed over the din. “I have a proposition for you.” His greedy gaze wandered across the crowd, then landed on the woman. “I have here the daughter of the governor of Barracoa—a prize of war, if you will.” He grinned. “And tonight she is for sale.”
Murmurs thundered through the mob.
“Wha’dye mean, fer sale?” One brash man pushed his way forward. As wide as he was tall, the pirate carried a stench of vomit and urine that struck Merrick from across the table.
“I am offering her services for twenty minutes at a time.”
The men muttered amongst themselves, ogling Elisa. She closed her eyes against the salacious onslaught.
“How much?” another man asked.
“Two doubloons.”
“Two doubloons for twenty minutes. That be robbery, mate!” the pirate protested.
Collier’s face reddened. He tightened his grip on the woman. She winced. “May I remind you, she is a noble woman, not a used-up old rag like these trollops you frequent.”
The woman on Willis’s lap scowled.
“How lovely she is,” Collier added, sliding a finger over her creamy skin.
She flinched and turned away.
“Looks like she don’t like ye much, Cap’n,” one man said, eliciting howls from the others.
“She likes me just fine!” Collier shot at the man, spit flying from his lips. He took a breath, collecting himself, and glanced at Elisa. “In fact, we’ve had a grand time, haven’t we, my dear?”
Refusing to look at Collier, she stared at Merrick, who met her frightened gaze with a steady nod of reassurance.
The corpulent man with the rank odor swiped drool from his lips and reached into his pocket. “I’ll take her.”
“Nay.” Another man stepped forward. “I want ’er first… nice and fresh.” His toothless grin dripped with desire.
“Now, gentlemen, no need to fight,” Collier said. “I’ll be here all night.” The woman wailed, sending a wave of laughter over the crowd.
Merrick drew a deep breath. His gaze locked upon the woman’s. Horror mangled her expression. He must not let this happen to her.
Merrick stood, knocking his chair over behind him, and grabbed the hilt of his cutlass.
Chapter Twenty-Five
If Hearts Could See
Charlisse sauntered to the center of the tavern, flanked by Sloane and Rusty. From there, she hoped to get a better view of the entire room, and by God’s grace, find Merrick quickly and depart from this vile place. Beady eyes glared at her from the darkness, following her every move. Most of the men soon returned to their drink or their women, save a few who continued to challenge the intruders with their piercing gazes.
The rancid stench of vomit and rotting food assailed Charlisse, and she unconsciously threw a hand to her nose, then dropped it immediately. A filthy man stumbled in front of her, his drink sloshing over the rim of his mug. He bumped into Charlisse, belched, and fell to the floor, spilling his ale over her breeches. Resisting the temptation to assist him, Charlisse kicked him instead and shoved him aside with her boot.
Solomon pointed at the man and chattered in glee.
Sloane grunted. “Mebbe we should get a drink,” he whispered to Charlisse. “It’ll be what they’re expectin’.”
Nodding, Charlisse glanced at Rusty, whose cheery red face had faded to a sickly pallor. He gulped. The pirate seemed as misplaced among these thieves as she did. Perhaps she should have brought Jackson instead, but then who would have protected Isabel? Her mind writhed in confusion. A captain had to make too many decisions—too many that affected other people’s lives.
Adjusting her eye patch, Charlisse headed toward the bar. Two pirates emerged from the crowd and blocked her way. Lifting her eyes to meet theirs, she glared at them with her fiercest look.
They didn’t flinch.
The taller one wore no shirt, only two baldrics, stuffed with pistols, crisscrossed over grizzly chest hair. The brown scarf tied about his neck carried the dark stain of endless sweat, and his grimy hair hung in one long braid flung over the front of his left shoulder. The shorter one made up for his smaller stature with bulk. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest and grunted.
Charlisse’s knees began to quiver. Despite the terror that clamped every nerve, she turned and spat onto the floor by their boots and returned her steady gaze to theirs.
“And who might this be?” The tall pirate looked at Sloane and nodded toward Charlisse. “Yer pretty cabin boy, eh?”
Grimacing, Sloane stepped forward, reaching for his cutlass. “I’d be takin’ that back, if I was ye. Ye don’t know who this is, d’ye?”
“Should I?” The pirate cast a cursory glance toward Charlisse.
“Aye,” Rusty chimed, though his voice held a tremor. “’Tis Char—”
“Captain Charles, Captain Charles Hyde,” Sloane interrupted, shooting Rusty an angry look.
Rusty groaned.
The shorter pirate studied Charlisse with interest. “I ne’er heard of ’im.”
“’Tis the man who stole Cap’n Merrick’s ship, he is,” Sloane announced.
Gazes shot at them from nearby tables.
Charlisse gritted her teeth. What was Sloane saying? She had hoped to hide in the shadows, not become the center of attention.
“By thunder, this littl’ boy?” The tall pirate snickered. “By the looks o’ ’im, he’d only be good fer two things—to fetch me food or polish me boots.” He stooped and peered into Charlisse’s face. “Why, swounds, he’s prettier than most women I seen.” Whistles and cackles flew at Charlisse as she continued to stare into the pirate’s close-set eyes. He leaned back against a wide post.
She cleared her throat. “I just came fer a drink,” she said, surprising herself with her baritone utterance. “Be gone if ye know what’s good fer ye.”
The pirate tilted his head up. “Be gone ye say? Nay, methinks ye’ll be the one leavin’. And ye best be quick ’bout it while I still have me good humor.”
Sloane drew his sword.
The pirate yanked out his blade, clanging it against Sloane’s.
The monkey grimaced and shook his head.
A hush settled over the crowd.
“Step aside, old man,” the pirate spat. “Me fight be wit’ the pretty boy here.”
Charlisse’s breath halted in her throat. She glanced at Rusty, who stood frozen beside her, his eyes transfixed with horror. Visions of her two friends being beaten and flayed alive blasted across her mind, not to mention what they might do to her—especially after they discovered she was a woman.
Lord?
A surge of strength coursed through her, empowered by her fury. In a flash, she drew her knife from its sheathe on her thigh, closed her eyes, and flung it at the pirate. A thud and a gasp told her she had hit something. When she looked up, the handle of the blade protruded from the man’s arm, pinning him to the post. His cutlass clanked to the wooden floorboards.
After a stunned pause, the swarm of pirates around them broke into screeching laughter.
Snarling, the pirate plucked the knife from his arm without so much as a flinch. Blood oozed from the wound as he barreled toward Charlisse, brandishing the bloody weapon in front of him.
“I’ll carpse ye fer that, boy!”
The tip of the blade closed in on her, propelled by the enraged pirate. Charlisse tried to flee, but her feet—overtaken by the trembling in her legs—refused to move.
Sloane lifted his blade to fend off the pirate just as Solomon sprang from his shoulder onto the man’s face and began plucking and scratching at the pirate’s eyes. The man lumbered forward, stumbling and cursing, and yanking at the beast in a wild frenzy. His boots struck his sword still lying on the floor. He staggered, arms flailing, before tumbling to the wooden planks with a loud thud. A moan escaped his lips, and his shoulders slumped.
Solomon climbed up into the rafters, jabbering happily.
Charlisse glanced at the man’s burly friend, who stooped and nudged him a few times before turning him over. The tall pirate’s bloodied eyes stared up at the ceiling, lifeless. Charlisse’s knife protruded from his chest. The bulky pirate yanked out the blade and handed it to Charlisse. “I believe this be yers, Cap’n Hyde.”
Charlisse took it, wondering whether he would avenge his friend’s death, but instead the man stepped over the body and slapped Charlisse on the back, nearly knocking her over. “Let me buy ye a drink, Cap’n.”
Grumbles coursed through the scattering pirates.
Releasing a breath, Sloane sheathed his sword and gave Charlisse a sideways glance as the man led her to the bar and ordered rum.
Thanking him, she grabbed the bottle and took a swig. The fiery liquid lit her throat ablaze. She coughed, hacking up some of the vile potion.
The pirate cocked his head and regarded her with a furrowed brow, and for a moment, she thought he’d discovered her secret.
“Ye must be a brave one to dare show yer face with Cap’n Merrick here.”
Charlisse gulped down the rum she’d intended to spit out. The amber liquor radiated a numbing warmth that did nothing to quell the quiver that overtook her. “Here?”
“Aye, I saw Cap’n Merrick hisself right o’er there.” He pointed with his bottle toward the dark shadows at the far left of the tavern.
Charlisse swung about. She backed away from the bar. Her pulse quickened as she peered through the smoky room, surveying the twisted faces, each one appearing more sinister in the lanterns’ shifting glow. A voice drifted to her ears, a familiar deep voice that wove a thread of comfort through the wicked shrill of the others. She took another step, focusing her gaze on a table in the back.
“I’ll buy her,” Merrick said, silencing the band of men.
A leering grin lifted one corner of Collier’s mouth. “Well, stab me, I wasn’t sure you fancied women.”
A wave of laugher engulfed the pirates.
“So be it,” Collier said as he lifted his bottle and pointed it toward Merrick. “The first twenty minutes go to my friend here.”
Merrick took the woman possessively by the arm. “I’ll pay for the whole night, if you please.”
Moans of protest emanated from the rabble.
“Faith, the whole night, is it?” Collier laughed unpleasantly and rubbed his chin. “I’ll warn you, she’s a wild mare, this one… took me a few hours to tame her.”
“I daresay, I doubt I can live up to such a virile man as yourself, Captain.” Merrick bowed. “But I do feel up to the attempt.”
Collier’s jaw twitched. “Fifty doubloons, then.”
Merrick knew that was far more than Collier would have collected for the whole night, but he had no choice. He must save the woman and return to the ship. Besides, the sooner he was on his way, the sooner he could avenge Charlisse’s death.
“Naw, Collier, that ain’t fair. We should all get turns wit’ her,” the stout pirate said.
“Curb your tongue, man,” Collier barked. “If Captain Merrick wishes to waste fifty doubloons on this tart, then so be it.” He regarded Merrick. “Do you have the coins?”
“On the ship. You shall have them when we return.” Merrick glanced at Elisa. Her hopeful gaze shot to his.
He pulled her toward him, but Collier yanked her back. “Why should I trust you?”
Merrick grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a bag and poured its contents onto the table. Twenty gold coins clanked into a pile on the sodden wood, their glitter reflecting greed in the eyes of the surrounding men, including Collier. “Twenty now. Thirty when we return to the ship. I am a man of my word.”
Collier snatched up the coins and jingled them in his hands.
“Do we have a bargain?” Merrick asked.
Pocketing the coins, Collier plopped into his chair. “That we do.”
Grabbing the bottle, Merrick took a swig, slammed it down on the table, and led Elisa away.
“Hold up there,” Collier yelled. “Where are you going?”
Merrick stopped and turned. “Why, back to the ship, of course.” He threw his arm around the woman. “To get the full value of my investment.”
“Nay, I will not suffer it.” Collier fingered his mustache, never taking his lofty gaze off Merrick. He slapped the chair beside him. “Come, sit, and show us your skill with the ladies. Your reputation has preceded you for many years. We all long to know your secret, don’t we, gentlemen?” He glanced around and received the approving grunts and nods, save for Willis, who was preoccupied with his own woman.
“Aye, Cap’n Merrick…Since ye done stole the woman from us, least ye can do is give us a peek a’ her.” A pirate next to him reached over with a grimy finger and lifted one corner of the woman’s gown off her chest, peering underneath.
Merrick clutched the pirate by the wrist and tossed his arm aside, then leveled a defiant stare at Collier. A few more steps and he would have been free of this pompous bore—could have taken the woman safely back to the ship and followed through with his mutiny.
“Why, Captain, your reputation as an expert seducer is well known,” Merrick said, lifting an eyebrow. “Surely you need no lessons from an amateur like myself.”
A flicker of humiliation skipped across Collier’s otherwise spiteful glare. He shifted in his seat.
Merrick grabbed the trembling woman again. “So, if you would be so kind, I’ll take my leave now.”
He turned and had barely taken a step before Collier’s booming voice bellowed across the room, “You do not have my leave, sir.”
Merrick swung his gaze back to Collier. Why was the captain so insistent that Merrick remain?
Collier waved a hand at the chair. “Now, if you please. We await with great impatience your sensual dalliance. Surely you will not deny these men a trifling glimpse at such a fine woman.”
“Since I have purchased her for the night, I’ll deny whomever I wish.”
Collier grinned but his eyes flared with contempt. “And yet I am your captain and it is such a trivial request.”
Merrick hesitated, wondering whether Collier suspected foul play. Or perhaps the only way for a man like him to receive pleasure from a woman was to watch her being ravished by someone else.
“As you wish.” Merrick sat and pulled the woman onto his lap, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Perhaps he could keep the depraved captain entertained until he drank himself senseless. Then Merrick could slip away.
Eyes glistening, Collier tipped his chair back. “Do carry on, my friend.” He licked his lips.
Drawing Elisa close, Merrick eased his face toward her ear and pretended to nibble on it as he whispered, “Never fear, señorita. You are safe with me.” Her sweet smell seeped through his skin like a tonic for his loneliness. He lifted his gaze to her brown eyes and gave her a comforting smile.
A familiar chattering sounded from above Merrick. The parrot squawked its admonition again. Merrick glanced up to see the fleeing form of a monkey jumping between the rafters. He lowered his gaze across the crowded tavern.
Charlisse squinted, peering through the smoke-filled gloom, her heart nearly crashing through her chest. She took another step. Sloane slid beside her. Solomon jabbered from above, then flew through the air and landed on Sloane’s shoulder.
Charlisse’s breath halted. Her heart stopped. She ripped the patch from her eye for a better look.
Merrick sat at a table in the back, surrounded by a band of filthy pirates. His ebony hair hung to his shoulders, and his familiar baldric crossed his thick chest. On his lap sat a beautiful, dark-haired woman. Merrick laughed, then buried his face into her neck, kissing her.
Charlisse’s heart shattered and crumpled like sand to the floor.
Merrick lifted his face and looked her way. His eyes locked with hers. They narrowed. He stood, nearly dropping the woman to the floor.
Charlisse’s eyes overflowed with tears, blurring the tormenting vision before her.
Warmth spread over Merrick, prodding his heart into a heavy beat. He scanned the room, and his eyes landed on the same short pirate he’d seen before, wearing a captain’s hat. The man stood squarely in the center of the room staring at Merrick, his tiny mouth and one eye open wide. The skin on Merrick’s arms tingled. The small captain tore off his eye patch and glared at Merrick, his eyes narrowing.
There was something about that little man.
Charlisse.
No. He closed his eyes for a second and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Impossible. He must either accept her death or be haunted by her memory everywhere he went. The latter he knew would eventually drive him mad.
Elisa slipped from his grasp.
The short pirate turned and ran out the door.
A blur of an old man and a red-haired pirate raced after him. Sloane? Rusty?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Broken Trust
Charlisse fled down the stairs, nearly tripping over the last tread. Everything was a blurry haze: the street, the pirates, the harlots. Musket shots zipped past her head.
She prayed for one to hit her.
A scrawny pirate jumped into her path, blocking her way. He drew a knife. The silvery blade glistened in the light that poured from the tavern. He grinned, baring a set of pointed, brown teeth.
