The Pirate Takes A Bride (8 page)

“You can try it.” The look on her face gave him pause.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I have no intention of going below deck yet. I am entitled to fresh air.”

“Ash—”

She held up a hand, silencing him. He was tempted to grab it and shove it back to her side. “And if you attempt to escort me back to the cabin before I’m ready, I’ll make a scene the likes of which your men are unlikely to soon forget.” Her sea-green eyes flashed anger at him, making them look even more vibrant than usual. She was striking with his black hat and her pale skin and hair and those unusual eyes. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—and he had seen a lot of beautiful women—but he would not be swayed by her charms. He was not one of her legion of admirers.

He folded his arms across his chest. “You think I am afraid of a little girl’s scene? Do you know what I have out there?” He pointed starboard toward the spot where he’d seen the shop through the spyglass. It wasn’t visible to the naked eye, not yet, but it soon would be if the wind stayed with them.

She followed his finger. “Water?”

“Another ship. Possibly a pirate ship. Possibly a ship-of-the-line. If we are lucky, it’s a merchant ship.”

“Why, because then you can plunder them?”

He took her arm and leaned close. “Because then they will steer clear of us, and I won’t have to blow them to splinters. I’m not interested in plunder at the moment. I’m interested in reaching my destination. Quickly.”

“I’m not interfering.”

“You are distracting my men.” As if to make his point, Mr. Johnson strolled by and grinned.

“Argh!” he said before clambering up the rigging.

She gave Johnson a wary look then turned to Nick, smiling. She was stunning when she smiled. He almost couldn’t breathe because of the ache in his chest when she smiled like that. “If I’m distracting them, it’s not intentional.”

“I’ll remind you of that when we’re floating among the wreckage, waiting for the sharks to sniff us.” He almost regretted the words because her smile faltered, and she peered out at the horizon again. He knew she couldn’t yet see the ship. The threat must have seemed trivial to her until now.

“If you really think I should go below—”

“No,” he interrupted. His answer was against his better judgment. He should send her below. He wanted her out of the way so her could concentrate on the danger at hand, but a part of him wanted her near. A part of him wanted to see her smile again. He signaled to Chante, and his quartermaster nodded, moving toward the poop deck. Nick had a competent crew—hell, they were better than competent. They were the best he’d ever served with. He could trust them to monitor the situation for a quarter of an hour. Even moving at the rate it was, it would be several hours before the ship reached them. “Mr. Chante will keep an eye on things. Would you like me to show you around the
Robin Hood
?”

“I thought Mr. Fellowes claimed that task.”

“I relieved him.” He held out an arm. She looked at it, raised a brow, and turned back toward the ocean. He supposed he deserved that. Perhaps he should start another way. “Have you been on a ship before?”

“On the Thames,” she said.

“A pleasure cruise?” he asked. She nodded. In Nick’s opinion, that sort of vessel was more accurately termed a boat, but he let it pass. “The front of the ship is termed the bow, and the rear the stern.” He escorted her toward the bow, pointing out various objects of interest. At least he found them interesting. He realized he’d been speaking for some time and she hadn’t made any sort of response, and he peered at her face to catch a glimpse of her expression. It was difficult to see her face when she wore his hat. That was his favorite hat, too, and he had to stop himself from telling her to be careful with it. He didn’t want a gust of wind blowing it overboard.

After a moment of silence, she tilted her face up to his, and he saw expectation in her expression. “Go on,” she said.

“I was afraid you might find all of this tedious.”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I didn’t realize you knew so much about the ships and the sea.”

“I sailed in His Majesty’s Navy for years before we met.”

Her honey-blond brows rose. “I never knew.”

“We did not actually converse a great deal during our former acquaintance,” he said. Her eyes flashed the color of the sea before a storm.

“A mistake I promise you I will not repeat.”

“Ashley.” He put a hand on her arm, and she shook it off. He noted one or two of his men turned to glance at them—those who weren’t watching them outright already—and he cleared his throat. Had he really thought now the time to apologize to her? To speak to her of the past? She did not want his apology anyway. He stepped back and spread his hands. “A wise decision.”

He flicked his gaze to Mr. Chante and noted the grim set of his quartermaster’s jaw. “I do think it time you returned to our cabin,” he said. “I’ll have Mr. Fellowes escort you.”

Fellowes was beside them in an instant, corroborating Nick’s feeling that all eyes were on them. He would have preferred to wrap Ashley in a sheet and hide her in his wardrobe until they returned to England. He didn’t want his men’s hungry eyes on her. Not that he worried any of his men would touch her. They wouldn’t even speak to her without his consent. She was safer on this pirate ship than in any ballroom in London.

Except, of course, she would not be blown to splinters in a ballroom in London. He wasn’t going to allow any of them to suffer that fate—at least not today, he thought as he made his way to the poop deck. But every pirate knew his day would come. Fate was a fickle creature indeed. She’d favored him so far, but one of these days the wind or the waves would be against him, and the briny deep would welcome him and the
Robin Hood
to a watery grave. Nick could only hope his luck held until he’d had his revenge on Yussef. He could only hope he might deposit Ashley back on land, find her a little cottage by the sea where she’d be safe from Barbary pirates and the gossips of the
ton
.

“What’s so funny, Cap’n?” Chante asked.

Nick realized he must have been smiling at the thought of Ashley happily living a quiet life by the seaside. He’d seen the way she wore his cavalier hat. She was an adventurer at heart, and Nick wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t catch a love of the ocean and sailing on this voyage. And then how would he manage her? Ironic how he had done all in his power to avoid having to be the one responsible for her, and he’d ended up becoming her husband. Fate was definitely turning against him.

“Captain, third-rate ship-of-the-line!” came the call from the main top. “It’s the
H.M.S. Formidable
!”

“Damn.” Nick held out his hand and Chante placed the spyglass in it. Nick scanned the horizon, locating the ship. It was closer now, and he could identify it. He sighed.

“It’s the
Formidable
. That’s McCoun’s ship. I know McCoun and his tactics.” McCoun would want them for a prize once he recognized the
Robin Hood
, if he hadn’t already. Nick flew the British flag, but no one familiar with the
Robin Hood
would be fooled by that. Nick had harassed just enough navy vessels that the navy wanted him out of commission. McCoun would chase them until he caught them. He’d likely fire over the bow to damage the rigging, but he’d want his prize intact. Of course, if Nick resisted, McCoun would sink them. Nick was going to hang if caught, as would his men, so he’d resist, if it came to that. “Mr. Chante, your assessment?” he asked.

“Seventy-four gun warship. One of His Majesty’s finest. Making good time too. With luck we might outrun her.”

Nick knew that was unfounded optimism. “My luck is shot to hell, Mr. Chante, but I have one or two tricks up my sleeve. We run first, hope the wind changes or that dark cloud up ahead turns out to be the squall we predicted.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“Throw everything nonessential overboard. Lighten ship as much as you can. But prepare for a fight. If it comes to a battle, we hit her and run.”

“Begging your pardon, Cap’n, but once she’s broadside, we’re done for.”

“Exactly, Mr. Chante. So we force her to sail past us.”

Chante gave him a look rife with warning. Nick held up a hand. “It’s risky, I know. But it could work. We wait until she’s close, so close we’re looking up her skirts, and then we ease the sheets and let her go by.”

“We’re dead in the water.”

“She’ll sail right past us.”

“She’ll fire, too.”

Nick waved a hand. “She’s looking for a prize. She’ll shoot across the deck, try to damage our rigging. Our sails will already be slack, and we have the cannonades to take out a few of her gunners. When she’s past us, we harden up and cut across her stern. We destroy her rudder with the bow chaser.”

“We have one shot.”

Nick nodded and studied the horizon. “There’s a squall out there. We head into it. It will take them time for McCoun to adjust and recover steering. In the meantime, we’ll lose them in the weather.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“There’s no room for error. I’ll speak to Shanks and have him choose his cannonade gunners personally.”

“Yes, Cap’n. With your permission, I’ll rally the men.”

Nick nodded and the two men started in opposite directions until Nick turned back at the last moment. “Chante, if we don’t make it out—”

“I’ll take care of her, Cap’n,” Chante said, reading his mind as always. “I’ll see her safely back to her family.”

Nick nodded. “We’ve faced worse odds than this.”

“Far worse,” Chante acknowledged, but the look in his eyes mirrored Nick’s thoughts. They might have faced difficult odds before, but the stakes had never been so high.

T
he first explosion woke Ashley from a light sleep. At least she had thought it was light, until she had to blink drowsiness and disorientation away and attempt to remember where she was and why the sound of explosions had woken her.

A ship. Nick’s ship. And they were under attack!

She jumped to her feet and ran to the windows spanning the length of the stern. But wherever the attacking ship might be, she couldn’t spot it from the great cabin. Perhaps it was alongside the ship on the port or starboard sides. Had the cannon ball hit the ship? Were they sinking?

Another loud explosion sounded, and she covered her ears. Was it her imagination or had the ship shuddered? Was the vessel on fire? She’d rather sink than be burned to death any day. She wanted to sob at the thought of being trapped below with a raging fire cutting off her escape. Instead of giving in to the temptation to cower, she ran to the door and threw it open.

Mr. Fellowes had either forgotten to lock it or someone had come and unlocked it while she slept. Even more disconcerting, no one stood guard outside the great cabin. Had she been abandoned? Forgotten?

There was another explosion and she ran for the ladder to the top deck. Her feet tangled in her skirts and she felt the material rip, but she shook her boot free and continued to climb. Once on deck, she turned in a full circle. Pirates moved purposefully from station to station, many of them manning guns on the deck. She could hear orders shouted, but the man giving them did not sound alarmed. Perhaps they weren’t sinking after all? And how on earth were these men so calm when they were being fired upon?

She ran to the deck rail, skirting out of the way of a large pirate carrying a long rifle, and peered out at the ocean. She didn’t remember if she was looking portside or starboard, but there was the ship Nick must have seen earlier. It was close now, close enough that she could identify the British flag it flew. And it was enormous. She had thought the
Robin Hood
huge and imposing, but this vessel was a monster cutting through the waves and heading straight for them. As she watched, one of the cannons fired, and she screamed and ducked as the ball of fire came straight for her.

She heard the splash and peeked her face over the rail just as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “Ashley.”

She jumped and almost screamed again but saved her dignity at the last moment. “Nick.” She was almost relieved to see him. Or perhaps her true relief was that the ship was not on fire. Not yet. Another one of those cannon shots, and she could not be so certain. “That ship is firing at us. Don’t they know who you are? Can’t you tell them you’re British? You’re Lord Nicholas?”

He gave her a sort of half smile and pulled her away from the rail and into an area not so out in the open. “They know this ship, and they don’t care who captains it. If they knew it was me, they’d imprison me. That is, if they could catch me.”

“Because you’re a pirate.”

“Exactly. You need to go below decks. I have everything in hand.”

She gaped at him. “B-but they’re trying to sink us.”

He raised a brow, and she definitely saw a smile grace his lips now. He thought her amusing. He thought being fired upon by a British warship a grand adventure and, oh very well, it was a grand adventure—but not if one was on the ship at the time of the attack! The arrogance of the man, to think he would not be killed or sunk. In that moment she could only shake her head at him because she wanted to both sneer at him and hug him. She had a weak spot for arrogant men, and never so much as now when she needed that show of arrogance to reassure her.