"A man men follow," Courtland said in some admiration as he slipped his arm around Cassandra's shoulders, pulled her off to the side as the crowd surged forward once more.
"But you said no weapons drawn," Cassandra reminded him, biting her bottom lip.
"Sweetheart, there's only one person left inside that gaol, and that's your father. Chance knows that, but we still need the crowd to cover our withdrawal, as at least one of those soldiers fled to the garrison house. Passion rises quickly and fades just as fast. We don't need our friends all wandering off to the nearest tavern before we're safely aboard ship, now do we?"
"Oh, no, I suppose not. You'll excuse me. I've never assaulted a gaol before. You'll stay here?"
"And that's what I do, yes. I stand and stay, attend to all the boring details while they delight in the glory. Plodding and practical, Callie, that's who and what I am. I did warn you, remember?" Courtland said as Spencer and Rian joined the stream of men pushing into the gaol, the two of them grinning like fools because they lived for this sort of adventure.
Mariah and Lisette smiled, for they were, at heart, adventurous women. They weren't afraid for their husbands because, if given the choice, they'd be right there, beside them.
Cassandra admired them all, even as she thought they might all be just a little bit crazy.
"I'm glad you're the way you are, Court," Cassandra said sincerely. "It's often more difficult to stand, I think. What if Beales is in there?"
"I'm sure he's long gone, watching from somewhere safe. They've had to know for at least ten minutes or more that we were on our way. I wonder if he has begun to recognize his mistake. Let's hope not."
"His mistake? You still haven't explained that to me," Cassandra said as they both continued to watch the doorway, waiting for Ainsley to appear. The worst was over; it was all now just a matter of time before her papa was with her again.
"Yes," Courtland told her, slipping his arm around her waist. "Beales had the arrest warrant written for Geoffrey Baskin, not Ainsley Becket. Your papa was quick to recognize the opportunity that gave him, and immediately confessed to being the Black Ghost, which— "
She turned to look up at him when he stopped speaking, to see that Lieutenant Tapner was standing directly behind them, an armed soldier on either side of him, his sword drawn and pushing into Courtland's back.
"We'll take the young lady off your hands if you'd be so kind as to release your hold on her, thank you," the lieutenant said. "Someone is very anxious to see her again."
"Oh, God, no," Mariah whispered, grabbing Lisette's hand.
Courtland closed his eyes for a second, and then looked at Cassandra. "And here I thought I could safely leave all the derring-do to my adventurous brothers. Hell of a thing, for a practical man. But then, a practical man prepares himself for most any eventuality…"
And, before Cassandra could even open her mouth to scream, Courtland had turned on his heel, a stiletto magically appearing in his right hand, winking in the light from the torches before disappearing into the very center of Lieutenant Tapner's chest, reappearing again, red with the soldier's heart's blood.
"Everyone— follow me!" Courtland yelled as the two soldiers, not quite up to anything more than supporting their dying lieutenant, lowered their weapons.
Within moments they were swallowed up by the crowd, Cassandra nearly tripping on the cobblestones as Courtland aimed them all at a nearby alleyway, Mariah and Lisette close behind them.
They didn't look back, Courtland urging them on, seemingly already knowing where he was heading. But then Mariah stopped, and Lisette and Cassandra stopped with her.
"I'm sorry, you go ahead," Mariah said, leaning against the wall of a building at the side of the alley. "The baby, you understand. I think he'd prefer I walked."
Cassandra's hand flew to her mouth. "But you're all right?"
"I'm fine," Mariah assured her. "There's a lot to be said for coming from good peasant stock."
"Court?"
"Yes, I'll carry her," Courtland said, but it wasn't necessary. They all looked back down the alley as they heard more racing footsteps, and a moment later Cassandra saw Spencer running toward his wife, scooping her up without a question and taking off down the alleyway once more.
"Rian!" Lisette shouted, holding out a hand to him, and then they were also gone, disappearing into the darkness.
Cassandra waited, afraid to breathe, until her father's beloved face was revealed by the moonlight, and then she launched herself into his embrace.
"Well met, sir," Courtland said. "But we might want to move on now. We're only another block or two from the wharf."
Ainsley took Cassandra's cheeks between his hands and kissed her forehead. "I should have known better than to believe you'd be any less the woman your mother was," he said quietly. "Court? Lead the way, if you please."
"Yes, sir, but where's— "
"Looking for me, Court?" Chance asked, advancing toward them, what looked to be Billy's legs and hindquarters folded over his shoulder. "It took some convincing to get our friend here to believe he'd conked enough heads. What a party! Some two dozen or so of the Waterguard have arrived on the scene, and it would seem a lot of old grudges are being settled back there, God love every last one of those people."
"Put me down, you misbegotten whelp of a sea dog!"
Chance deposited Billy on his feet, the bandy-legged man looking none the worse for wear, although it was rather disconcerting seeing the noose strung around his throat as if it were a neck cloth he'd donned for the evening.
"Amusing as all this is, I believe I might enjoy being on the water, preferably in the next five minutes," Ainsley said, and Courtland nodded. Taking Cassandra's hand he led the way toward the wharf and the longboats that would be waiting there to row them out to the
Spectre
and the
Respite
for their return to Becket Hall.
"One small, niggling matter, Ainsley," Chance said, his tone even, conversational. "There are two other sloops anchored in the harbor, new to the port as of a week ago, I'm told. If we're lucky, Beales is even now being rowed out to one of them."
"We're not," Ainsley told him. "Beales left this afternoon, after I convinced him that Rian would retrieve the Empress from Becket Hall and bring it to the gaol tomorrow evening, as we'd agreed— just as he agreed, on his honor, to not attack my home or family. Edmund being Edmund, I imagine he's very close to Becket Hall right now, considering strategy for his attack and capture of the Empress, leaving me to hang at Dover Castle. Just as I don't believe him, he doesn't believe me— a sad testament to the friendship I once thought we had between us. If either of the sloops follows when we up anchor, we'll have to eliminate it, quickly."
Cassandra shot a sharp, worried glance at Courtland, who squeezed her hand reassuringly, and quickened their pace toward the beach.
* * *
COURTLAND LIFTED Cassandra above the small waves running up on the sandy beach and carried her to the longboat to deposit her alongside Mariah and Lisette, Spencer and Rian. They'd be rowed out to the
Respite
while Chance would rejoin his own crew from Becket Hall on the
Spectre.
They'd already seen men climbing the rigging of one of the sloops anchored a few hundred yards from their own two ships, and as it was a strange hour to be setting off on a voyage, it was simple to assume that the sloop belonged to Edmund Beales.
As Courtland rejoined the rest of the men on the beach, Ainsley was giving last minute instructions to Chance. "The most efficient way to eliminate her is to simply sink her. We have no time to play cat-and-mouse, and no reason to want anyone aboard her to survive. Agreed?"
"If there's a chance Beales is aboard…" Chance said, and then shrugged. "No, you say he's not, and I believe you. We'll certainly know one way or another, in any case, once the sloop makes its first move. The bastard was brilliant on the water, if ruthless."
"True," Ainsley agreed. "But Jules is dead, which leaves only Richard Oakes, who never understood the nuances of eluding contact until in a prime position to strike. For all we know, Oakes may also be dead. But let's hope he still lives, and still sails with Edmund. If the sloop's first move is to try to evade using a starboard tack, it's most probably Oakes, as he never had any imagination. And then we'll have him."
"Have him where? We can't be chasing him all the night long," Chance asked, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're thinking, Ainsley."
"This is no time for a warning across the bow, Chance. I heard of a daring maneuver accomplished many years ago by the one the Americans called Blackbeard. We open with full broadsides," Ainsley said matter-of-factly, heading toward the already loaded longboat. "We lead him out, lull him into thinking we're allowing him to follow, and then turn, both of us— you to port, me to starboard— mindful of his penchant to evade by tacking hard, starboard, and flank him. Roll out the guns and eliminate him."
Chance threw back his head and laughed aloud. "Full broadsides? From both of us? That story? It must be some fairy tale. Hell, Ainsley, if we miss, we'll damn well sink each other."
Ainsley was already in the water, making his way to the longboat, but he took a moment to turn about, grin at Chance. "Then, son, I most sincerely suggest you don't miss."
Chance laughed again, more of a short explosion of breath, and looked at Courtland. "That wily bastard. Good to have him back, isn't it, Court?"
Courtland watched as the longboat carrying Cassandra pushed off into the deeper water. She was holding on to one side, looking back at him, and he waved to her, as if to tell her that he'd be right along. "It is, yes. Can you use an extra hand on the
Spectre?
I have this sudden need to personally take charge of the aiming of the guns."
"I'd be honored, brother," Chance told him, resting an arm on his shoulder as they headed for the second longboat. "Have you talked to her yet? Said what needs to be said?"
"Not really, no," Courtland admitted as the longboat seemed to disappear into the darkness. "She saw me kill a man tonight, Chance. God knows what else she'll see before this is over. I always wanted to protect her from this part of our lives. Hell, I just want this part of our lives over…a new beginning."
"You'll have that new beginning, Court, soon. She knows that. Now come on, we've a ship to send to the bottom."
"Two ships," Courtland pointed out tersely as they each grabbed an oar from other crew members, and Chance cursed as they both watched the sails being run up on the second sloop. "I don't want to sound worried, but it has been a long time since either you or Ainsley did this sort of thing. Are you sure we shouldn't just outrun them and lose them in the dark?"
"And hazard a combined attack on Becket Hall from both land and sea? No, Court. This is our chance, a golden opportunity to lure Beales's crews into deep water and be done with them. Now, if you please," Chance said, grinning wickedly at his brother, "which way is starboard again?"
With those joking words, Courtland laughed out loud, nearly losing his grip on the oar. "My God, I'm beginning to think I may be as mad as the rest of you!"
"You were always a slow starter, brother mine," Chance told him, "but we all knew you'd catch up, eventually. There's the rope ladder. You first, brother."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CASSANDRA HAD BEEN out on the water on the
Respite
several dozen times, but only in daylight hours, and only to watch as the crews practiced their seamanship, for her father believed in keeping their skills fresh.
She'd never been out on the Channel at night, and she certainly had never even dreamed of being caught up in a sea battle.
She and Mariah and Lisette would be ordered below decks before the beginning of the battle, but for now no one seemed to notice that they were still above decks, standing in the shadows, watching the flurry of organized chaos as the sails were manned, as the anchor was hoisted, as Ainsley Becket calmly, even politely called out orders.
Courtland had gone with Chance, she knew now, while Rian and Spencer had boarded the
Respite
with them. Cassandra believed this to be an equitable division, keeping husbands with their wives, the father with the daughter— but that didn't mean she was happy with the arrangement.
She would be less than useless as they engaged the enemy, she knew that, but to watch the
Spectre
and not know if Courtland had been injured? How was she going to endure the next hours?
"The only time I've been to sea was when Rian brought me to Becket Hall. What are they doing now?" Lisette asked as two of the crew walked around the decks, spilling buckets of sand onto the boards.
"It's…it's so they won't slip in the blood of the injured," Cassandra told her, remembering her lessons, many of them told to her by a laughing, winking Jacko. That information no longer sounded quite so exotic, so exhilarating.
