Shannon Drake - The Pirate Bride

“Jamie, my good fellow. I’m quite all right. You will sail on with the others and see to my release. I believe our patrons will be glad half their treasure has survived, and you must ensure that we receive the promised cut. Forty percent. Don’t take less.”

“Aye, captain.”

Logan saw that Brendan was leading a ten-man crew across to his ship.

Even from this distance, he could tell that his own men were tight-lipped and stiff, barely moving.

“Help with the divide,” he called out, his voice strong. “We have made a deal, and it will be kept. Hinder no man of the pirate ship in his effort to take what is his.”

“Ye heard the captain!” Jamie roared.

“Go, my friend. See to it,” Logan told him.

Jamie nodded, deep sorrow in his eyes. The old salt actually looked as if he were about to cry.

“I have survived thus far,” Logan assured him softly. He forced a cocky smile. “I guarantee you, I shall continue to do so.”

“I will find a way to kill these blasted brigands,” Jamie swore. “I’ll not rest ’til I’ve met whatever ransom this pirate requires and seen you freed.”

“You are a good man, Jamie. We will meet again.”

“M’lord…”

“Tell Cassandra…” Logan began.

“Aye?”

“Tell her that I am deeply sorry. But that…that I pray—no, I demand!—that she choose whatever path now lies open to her for happiness.”

“Nay, my lord!”

“You will tell her so, Jamie. Swear it to me.”

“I cannot—”

“You can. You must. Swear it, Jamie.”

Jamie hung his head. “Aye, Logan. As you wish.”

“Go with God, Jamie.”

Jamie, a fierce and bitter look upon his face, glanced toward the captain’s cabin.

“I pray that God will be with you, for surely he has abandoned all other men here.”

“He helps those who help themselves, so it is said, and I am quite capable of helping myself, as you know, my friend.”

Jamie nodded tightly, then turned quickly and moved on.

Logan remained.

Feeling the breeze.

The sea…the air…the sweet cry of the wind. They all meant freedom to him. He had never realized just how much until this moment. Amazing how he had never before realized how much he had loved freedom.

But then…

It was a long time since he had been a prisoner.

That had been another lifetime. But he hadn’t forgotten.

After all, that memory was half the reason for the fool trip that had brought him to this fate.

“M’lord Captain?”

There was just a hint of mockery in the words.

Brendan stood at his side, watching him. The fellow neither smiled nor goaded him as he continued. “I’m afraid your presence is required. In the brig.”

Logan nodded.

The man carried shackles, he noticed.

“There is no need for those,” he said. “Merely show me the way.”

The man did so, first looking toward his captain’s cabin, then sweeping an arm toward the steps that led down to the hold.

With one last glance at the brilliant blue sky, Logan headed for the steps.

They seemed to lead to blackness, to an abyss.

But one no darker than his heart.

To take risks was one thing.

To lose all…

Quite another.

His men had lived. And he thanked God that in all his years, even through his bouts of rage-inspired madness, he had never forced others to perish on any quest of his making.

He had never meant to sell his soul.

But as he descended into the darkness, he wondered if he had lost it anyway.

THE SOUND WAS haunting, would always be haunting…

There were hoofbeats coming like thunder. A slow rumble at first, like a tremor pulsing beneath the earth. With the first vibration, it seemed as if the birds screamed, followed by the rushing of the wind. The sound of the hoofbeats grew louder, the quivering of the earth, deeper. Then, a mere heartbeat later, the pounding hooves came ripping through grass and dirt, striking sparks off rock, shaking the world.

By the time the horses raced into view, there was screaming everywhere. People were running, desperate.

The thunder was upon them. As loud as if a bolt of lightning had struck the ground and blasted a hole through the globe.

Then…

A sword, glittering in the sun.

The blood, a cascade of it, gushing, flying…turning the blue day to red.

And the bodies…

Red awoke gasping, stunned and frightened, but aware that someone was there, someone with strong hands, and a frantic and yet somehow reassuring whisper.

“Stop. Don’t scream.”

Red let out a shaky sigh, gulping for air, but remained silent.

“You haven’t had the nightmare in a long time.”

Red nodded.

“It was the fight,” Brendan said.

“I don’t know what it was,” Red said curtly.

“I do,” Brendan said. “It was the duel.”

Red was silent.

“Do you think he knows?” Brendan asked anxiously.

Red straightened and rose, escaping Brendan’s touch, to pace the confines of the master’s cabin.

“I don’t know.”

“You scared me to death, you know,” Brendan said, getting to his feet, as well. He caught Red by the shoulders and looked into those striking blue eyes. “You could have been killed.”

“I could have been killed a dozen times over the past few years,” Red said.

That was true enough.

Brendan released Red and began pacing himself. “The fellow is clever, too clever. I mean, what fool transporting such treasure would dare such a brazen ploy? God knows, most pirates would not have bowed to such a bargain.”

Red sank down on the elaborate sofa that flanked the handsome mahogany desk. “No?” The reply was dry. “I seem to recall successfully using a similar ploy against the great Blackbeard himself.”

Brendan paused and stared at Red. “Blackbeard told me he was amazed when he met you, fascinated, and that he thought you such a pretty boy it amused him not to kill you. He seemed quite baffled by his own response.”

“I beat even the great Edward Teach fairly,” Red told him indignantly.

Brendan shook his head. “Only because at first he was laughing so hard that he underestimated you. He knew you were a woman, Bobbie. He admired you tremendously.”

“A good thing, since he is still a friend and has kept my secret,” she said sharply. “And that is the thing, Brendan. Most the fellows we run into are vermin-ridden and desperate men, keen on making their fortunes—yet easily swayed by a bottle of rum and a whore. But even those filthy, rotten-toothed knaves usually have a certain honor. Honor among thieves, if you will. But they have shown more honor than most of the supposedly respectable noblemen with whom we’ve come in contact. They adhere to the pirate’s code of ethics. We did nothing less today.”

“I fear he knows,” Brendan said darkly.

“So what? Our whole crew knows,” she pointed out.

“The whole crew worships you. You saved them from certain death,” he reminded her. “An act you might have found yourself hanged for, by law.”

She shrugged. At the time, there had been nothing else to do. That had been her first act as a pirate. She had done exceptionally well, taking everything into consideration. “We might have died, as well. There was no guarantee for the future when we began. We were already impersonating others, even then.”

A quick smile curled Brendan’s lips. “You did go from being Lady Cuthbert to Red Robert with amazing speed. You could have done remarkably well on the stage.”

Red had been smiling, as well, but now her smile faded. “Aye, and what good would a life on the stage do me? I’d be considered no more than a harlot at that, either.”