Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge Page 12

  Blackthorn could throttle her for interfering. Where the devil was Kipp? Kipp, Mac, somebody, anybody needed to get her away from the square, before she got herself imprisoned.

  Flynn stared stoned-faced at Elyssa. “Were you aware, Mr. Sterling, that this girl was to be presented to you as a ransom by Blackthorn? I pause to wonder if she was a willing participant in the scheme.”

  “Ain’t true.” Kipp, leaning on the government house wall and twirling his dagger in his fingers, edged around the corner of the porch. “The lass knew nothin’ of the ransom Capt’n Blackthorn devised for the King’s Pardon Flynn denied us. Seems Flynn ain’t so trustworthy and Capt’n needed insurance.”

  “Get this rabble off my porch,” Flynn ordered.

  Christensen halted the soldiers with a raised hand.

  Kipp ignored Flynn and continued. “Even willin’ to give his life.”

  Sterling, stiff as the dead and just as pale, listened patiently, his hands resting on the silver knob of his cane.

  Kipp shoved off the wall. “But the boys and I—”

  “Belay!” Blackthorn would not allow Kipp to implicate himself in the attacks. “I don’t deny the evils I’ve done. I accept my crimes and I’m ready to die.” He lowered his voice for Christensen. “Spare as many of my men as you can and, please, make sure Elyssa is safe.” Without waiting for a reply, Blackthorn addressed the headsman. “Whenever you are ready, mate.”

  Blackthorn chanced one last look at his angel wringing the folds of her dress. Dusk sunlight seemed to absorb into the blue gown, creating a deep vibrant color. ’Twas almost as if Eylssa glowed. A halo of tresses and blue ribbons caught on the sea breeze. Her glistening tears were like celestial stars. There would be nothing more beautiful where he was going and he would savor the moment.

  Gunfire split the tension, closer this time. A small explosion, likely a grenado, erupted in a nearby alley. Screams of “fire” quickly followed. Several men with buckets raced out of the plaza to douse flames.

  Flynn took two steps down. “On with it!”

  “No.” Mr. Sterling spoke loud and clear, silencing the growing anxiety of the crowd. “I advise you, Governor, to halt this hanging.”

  Only Flynn was more surprised than Blackthorn by Sterling’s recommendation.

  Flynn took the stairs back to the porch. “You would, would you?”

  Flynn stood nose to nose with Sterling. Blackthorn was impressed by the old man. Sterling met the governor’s sneer undaunted, lifting his chin a fraction to look at Flynn through his spectacles. The man was as intimidating as a hungry bull shark.

  “It is my job to protect Lord Montgomery’s investment.”

  “And I am Governor in Chief,” Flynn retorted. “I know what is best for the colony and what is best is to eradicate menaces such as Captain Blackthorn.”

  “I don’t believe a man with the valor and dignity this man possesses is a menace, trading his life for the King’s Pardon you are obligated to give under King George’s proclamation. You risk an unnecessary war with the pirates.”

  “Won’t be no risk,” Kipp piped in, sheathing his dagger. “It’ll be certain and swift, it would.”

  By brimstone, Kipp better know what he’s doing. Elyssa is too close in harm’s way.

  “Commodore,” Sterling called. “Won’t you set the captain free?”

  “No!” Flynn’s finger was as pointed as his eyes. “You will do no such thing. Blackthorn will hang.”

  “Commodore.” Sterling tapped his cane on the porch.

  Christensen nodded to the headsman to remove the noose. Constriction on his weasand loosened and Blackthorn could swallow again.

  “Looks like you cheated death again, brother.” Christensen unlocked the shackles from Blackthorn’s wrists. He rubbed feeling back into them and rounded his shoulders to relieve his cramped muscles.

  “The devil’s going to be exceedingly disappointed,” Blackthorn said.

  Elyssa’s look of relief was immeasurable. Blackthorn wanted to go to her, hug her tight, land kisses over her luscious body, and smack her bottom for defying him. But he couldn’t. The danger was far from over.

  “This is outrageous!” Flynn bellowed. “You’ve no authority, Sterling.”

  “Perhaps. But I will remind you that as a confidante to Lord Montgomery, I can request your removal as Governor in Chief.”

  Flynn ruffled up like a cock challenged for his hens.

  “That makes you fairly powerless, Governor,” Elyssa said.

  Bloody Christ, what was the lass up to now? Blackthorn wished she’d stay out of the strife.

  “With respect, Mr. Sterling, mayhap you should consider the request regardless. Surely, New Providence will need a real man to govern. Maybe even a man with the brass of a pirate. ’Twould make the colony safe for trade.”

  “Why, you little bitch,” Flynn spat.

  Blackthorn hopped off the gallows platform. That bastard was not going to talk to his woman that way.

  Flynn reacted to Blackthorn’s approach. He snatched Kipp’s dagger from his waistband and nabbed Elyssa.

  “Blast! Not again!”

  Blackthorn might have laughed by her swearing had the situation not been so dire. He shoved people aside and took the stairs by twos. Flynn shoved Elyssa aside and seized a soldier’s sword.

  “Bran!” Christensen, running in his wake, tossed Blackthorn his sword.

  Metal clashed against metal. An intoxicating sound to Blackthorn. Contact of the swords vibrated in his hand. Aggression pumped in his veins, hostility coursed through his blood like venom. It had been a long time since he fought, truly fought an enemy. Already, he was enjoying the battle far too much. And they had just begun.

  Blackthorn parried each thrust and let Flynn lead the fight. Up and down the steps Flynn led them. Once back on the landing, Blackthorn thrust low in quick succession, forcing Flynn to parry low and driving the governor back, back, back, until they had left the porch and were in the rose garden. His wound throbbed from his burst of exertion; the warm ache blossomed up and across his torso. He gritted his teeth to ignore the sprouting pain.

  Behind him, the footfalls of their audience bustled on the wooden floorboards. A feminine gasp reminded Blackthorn he had something to live for. The game had changed and he would do everything in his power to hold Elyssa again.

  He swung wide, knowing Flynn would duck, just so his blade would lop off the top of a perfectly shaped rose bush. Fresh, floral fragrance filled the air. Red petals and bits of green leaves showered down.

  “Oh, bother,” Blackthorn said. “Your precious roses.”

  “You bastard. I’ll carve your heart out for that.”

  Blackthorn laughed. “You may well try.”

  Flynn roared and charged. Blackthorn spun aside, hopping up onto a square fountain. Blood red roses flourishing from a stone basket sat atop a pedestal in the middle of the fountain. With his boot, he shoved the vessel off the pedestal. Water spattered from the fountain with the impact, and the basket and plant broke apart.

  For a moment, Blackthorn thought Flynn’s head might explode. Arrows afire with rage shot from his eyes. Cords of anger manifested along his reddened neck. Blackthorn almost lost his balance off the fountain’s edge blocking Flynn’s attack.

  Blackthorn jumped down. The battle increased in brunt, fueled by fury. Damn how Blackthorn loved a good fight. But he grew weary. The gash in his side no longer ached, it burned anew. ’Twouldn’t be much longer and Flynn would have the advantage. Blackthorn needed to end this.

  He locked blades with Flynn. Cross guards butted against each other. Their arms shook under the tension. Flynn’s rotten breath was as rapid as his own. Blackthorn witnessed the hate Flynn had for him deep in the black cesspools of his eyes.

  “This is where we take our leave, brother,” he said. “Let’s make quick of it.”

  “Flog you,” Flynn retorted.

  Blackthorn shoved Flynn back and swung his blade. The m
etal resounded on impact and scraped along the edges as he spun the blades not once, but twice. The quick action twisted Flynn’s wrist, disarming him, and the momentum caused him to stumble backwards. The governor slipped on the wet cobblestones. A crack resounded as his head smacked against the ground. A mass of white curls flopped into a puddle.

  Blackthorn poked the tip of his sword to Flynn’s chest. “I believe you owe Mrs. Montgomery an apology for your slanderous tongue, Governor.” When he didn’t speak fast enough, Blackthorn pressed harder.

  “My apologies, Mrs. Montgomery.” Acid dripped from his words.

  “I don’t believe you meant it.” How easy it would be to puncture his flesh and impale his bitter heart. ’Twas too bad Blackthorn’s own heart hadn’t completely rotted through, or he would have already snubbed Flynn’s life. “Again…with sincerity.”

  “’Tis not an apology I want to hear.” Elyssa hastened to the fountain. Her blue gown swished with the lively sway of her hips. Kipp, Christensen, and Mr. Sterling followed. Not one of them resisted stealing a glance at her backside. Blackthorn didn’t blame them.

  “I want to hear you decree Captain Blackthorn and his entire crew a pardon,” she said.

  Kipp crouched down beside the Flynn. “Ah, don’t look so angry. Ya got a choice, ain’t ya? Pardon or die.”

  “Governor Flynn,” Christensen said. “A reprieve would end this contention.”

  “Traitor.” Flynn’s nostrils flared, his jaw jutting out in defiance.

  “Nay, Governor. I only gave the man a fighting chance. Blackthorn may even be able to help remove pirate activity in the Bahamians waters.”

  Flynn chuckled. “I’d rather die than have his help.”

  “So be it.” Blackthorn wrapped both hands around the sword’s hilt.

  Could he kill him? Aye, he could. But doing so would do nothing but satisfy the itch. He, and likely, his men, would face execution. Again. This time, with Elyssa reaching out but not daring to touch his arm, Blackthorn doubted himself. Was there a chance to carry on a life with her? He’d find out momentarily.

  Ever so slightly, he raised the sword and leaned in to deliver Flynn’s death.

  “Wait!” Flynn screamed out, his hands up. “Wait! All right. You win. I’ll draw up and sign a pardon for you and your men.”

  Elyssa squealed in delight, and turned to hug the stiff, and quite startled, Mr. Sterling.

  Blackthorn handed the sword back to Christensen and took Flynn by the hand to help him to his feet. Flynn, his lips curled in disgust, snatched up his wig.

  “You have my thanks,” Blackthorn said, reaching for some modicum of civility. ’Twould be what their father expected from his sons.

  The governor straightened his clothing. “Yes, well, there is the matter of the attack on Nassau.”

  Kipp grinned. “Ain’t nothin’ destroyed but a jolly boat, fishin’ crates, and spent gunpowder. ’Twas the lass’s idea. Ya know, just in case you finally saw things our way and give the pardon. If not, ha, that’s when the real fun would’ve begun.”

  “Elyssa’s idea, huh?” Blackthorn pulled her into a hug. Her smile reached her bright eyes. That little armful kept surprising him. By the crinkle of Sterling’s brow, she’d confounded him as well.

  “Never you mind,” Flynn said. “The intent and will was still there and I could have you all imprisoned.”

  “But you shall not,” Sterling said. “You will sign these pardons as your final act as Governor in Chief. I advise you to resign immediately. Otherwise I will request your removal to Lord Montgomery.”

  A crazed glaze cemented in Flynn’s dark pupils, red splotches stippled up his neck, across his cheeks. “You may recommend and request the sea part from here to Montgomery’s privy, but I’ll not step from my commission.”

  “Know when you are beat, Flynn,” Blackthorn said. “Walk away while your name upon the islander tongue is still relatively untarnished.”

  “Shut up, you bastard.”

  “This behavior, Governor, is unacceptable. You have resorted to,” Sterling circled his cane in the air, “unprincipled practices. Captain Blackthorn has shown more impunity and righteousness than you. One might say there is a role reversal between you. It’s quite shameful—you the derelict and he the dignitary.”

  “While you’re recommendin’,” Kipp elbowed Sterling, “the Capt’n, he’s a mighty fine leader. He could take ol’ Flynn’s place as gov’ner.”

  Not for all the English gold.

  Sterling nodded, as if considering such a ludicrous idea. That was the moment something snapped behind Flynn’s visage. Blackthorn recognized the look. Flynn’s bastioned animosity had crumbled, and he had bloodshed on his mind.

  “You have jockeyed what is mine from me—decoration, gold, position, Father’s respect—for the last time. Now it is my turn to take from you.” Flynn snatched up the sword at his feet and charged toward Elyssa.

  No time to think, less time to react, Blackthorn shoved Elyssa behind him, shielding her with his body. The blade, deadly and thin, aimed at his chest. Elyssa’s scream echoed in the courtyard. Blackthorn steeled himself, ready, again, to face the unknown that was death.

  The blur of metal passed before him. Flynn went down, falling to his knees. An expression of shock froze upon his face. Blood shed from the gaping cleft across his torso on his pristine cream-colored vest. Mouth agape, Flynn toppled forward, landing in the scattered debris of his rose bush.

  Christensen, hands gripping the hilt of his grisly, crimson sword, cursed. “Damned fool.”

  Elyssa peeked up from Bran’s shoulder. “Is…is it over?”

  “Yes, sweetling. It’s over.”

  Elyssa threw herself into his arms. He held her tight, letting her warmth seep into him. Breathing in the floral fragrance of her hair. Delighting in her rounded breasts pressed against him.

  “Oh, Bran. Tell me it’s truly over—this whole nightmare. Please. Tell me it’s over. I cannot bear not being with you. Not again. I love you, Bran.”

  Two months ago, he would have shunned such a silly sentiment. Argued love was nothing more than a wistful chit with silly dreams of taming a pirate captain. Never would he share the same emotion, same passion. That was before a rogueling boarded the Sanctum and somehow made spoils of his heart. “My precious angel. I love you, too.”

  Blackthorn held her tighter than he should. But this time he would not let her go. Ever.

  The sea could swallow Elyssa whole and she would die happy, with no regrets. Captain Blackthorn made good on his promise. He had reclaimed his bed—with her in it. He had made glorious love to her. Magnificent, glorious love. The flickering candlelight glistening upon wet skin, every caught breath, the sensual aroma of intimacy, lay seared upon her soul. Bran had harmonized carnal groping with tender caresses, his commanding mouth with feathered kisses, and raspy growls with brandied murmurs of her name. She shattered into oblivion with him time and again. And yet, his whispers of love were what she cherished most.

  She could have stayed entangled in naked flesh with him forever. Two days had not been long enough. Not nearly.

  But he’d asked her to redress his wound as he had business to attend to and must go on shore. He’d been gone for hours now, and she had finally risen from his bed to dress. Elyssa had just resolved to go on deck for a bit of sunshine when Bran returned.

  “My angel.” He swooped her into his arms, spun her around, bent her low, and kissed her full on.

  Dizzy, she giggled. “Mayhap you should close the door, lest one of your men catch you acting buffle-headed.”

  “Nay.” He kicked the door shut. “They’d be envious I have such a bonny lass to hang with from the boughs.” Bran kissed her again and set her on her feet. “I have something for you.”

  Bran loosened a pouch from his sash and placed it into her hand. It weighed heavy and jingled—the sound of coin. Elyssa opened the pouch. The gold inside could light a room.

  “What’s this?” S
he didn’t understand. Why did he give her gold coins? Verily, she should be paying him for passage on the Sanctum, though she doubted he planned to collect. Not by way of money, anyhow.

  “Your help with my log garnered me a tidy profit.” He leaned against his desk, a devilish smirk tilting his mouth.

  “Yes, well, this is yours.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose, in a way, it is. But only because I lay claim to you.”

  Bran swiped a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. She momentarily closed her eyes and tilted her head into the warmth of his hand. Heavens, but he distracted her so.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You will,” he said. “Besides, you’ll need it.”

  That was the truth of it. She was penniless, and she hadn’t given regard of what might lay ahead. Bran had stolen any thoughts beyond the next moment with him.

  “Sterling has put in a good word with Montgomery for you,” he continued.

  “Along with the news of his son’s death,” she said. Her short marriage to Dobie was but a distant memory, yet she could only imagine how the message of his youngest son might affect the Lord Proprietor Montgomery. He may have denied Dobie his whims, but Elyssa knew Samuel loved him. Something occurred to her that hadn’t before. “Lord Montgomery might blame me for Dobie’s death. I will never gain his favor. Oh, Bran, what if he seeks vengeance on my father and reverses his debt?”

  “How could Montgomery blame you for Dobie’s insensibilities? Worry none. You’ll have your shipping company.”

  “Please, Bran. Don’t ridicule me. ’Tis cruel.”

  “Elyssa, my love. The only thing I want for you is your happiness. I would never ridicule you for your dreams.”

  Bran pushed off the desk and grabbed a bottle from a chest. A quick twist and the cork popped out. ’Twas not rum. It had a sweet, heavy aroma.

  “I save the Madeira wine for special occasions,” he said, handing her a cup. “Let us celebrate the Sanctum and her new commission.” He raised his cup and took a sip.

  “I don’t understand.”