Captain Rose’s Redemption

She shouldn’t trust her life or her sanctity to this rogue, but the depths of his blue irises and the softness of the lines at the corners told her he would honour his word. She slid her fingers off the warm metal triggers and rested them on the cool mother-of-pearl handles. If agreeing to his terms meant the freedom and safety of those aboard the Winter Gale, then she must do it. ‘I will dine with you, as long as Dr Abney is allowed to remain with my child and her nurse while I’m gone.’

‘Granted.’

‘And the second favour?’

‘I’ll explain that when we dine.’ He laid his hands on the barrels of the pistols and, with a subtle pressure, lowered them, leaving nothing between them to protect her. He slid his hands off the silver, his fingers never touching hers although she was keenly aware of how close his skin was to hers. ‘I’ll send Mr Rush for you in an hour. Bring both pistols when you come. Unloaded.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll understand in an hour.’ He shifted back into a bow worthy of a courtier, then turned and strode out of the cabin.

Cassandra sagged against the crate beside her in brief relief before the next wave of tension gripped her. She laid the pistols on top of the trunk, dropped to her knees in front of Dinah and clasped her close. Dinah and the others were safe, for the moment, but she didn’t know how long it would last. She might trust the Captain, but it was clear the rest of his crew weren’t as honourable as him. If one of them decided to sneak in here while she was gone... No, she couldn’t think about it. Dr Abney would be here to watch over them.

‘Everything all right now, Mama?’ Dinah asked in her little voice and wrapped her arms around Cassandra’s neck.

‘Yes, honey. It is.’ Cassandra inhaled her daughter’s clean scent tinged with the salty damp and almost wept. They were so close to Virginia and the safety of Belle View. As in London, before her husband’s death, the peace of their lives was dangerously close to being stolen from them. It all rested in the hands of yet another disreputable rake.

* * *

Richard stepped out of the Captain’s cabin into the sunlight and took a bracing breath of sea air, but it failed to ease the tightness in his chest. He’d seen numerous female passengers quake with fear while he’d assured them no harm would come to them and been proud afterwards to have kept his word. He’d patted their crying children on the heads and offered them treats, confident their ordeal would end the moment his men finished loading the stolen cargo. Not once in all that time had he been forced to face the ugly, twisted thing he’d become as he had through Cas’s wide, terrified eyes today.

He rubbed the back of his hand where it’d cracked against Mr Barlow’s cheekbone, a bruise forming there beneath an old scar. Richard’s presence had made her winsome voice tremble with fear and the sound of it had cut him deeper than the edge of a cutlass. In it had been the echo of everything Vincent Fitzwilliam had stolen from him five years ago, including the man he’d abandoned to become Captain Rose and the woman he’d loved.

Richard stormed across the deck, adjusting the sash across his chest. It was yet another reason why he must destroy the man.

‘Your report, Mr Rush,’ Richard demanded of his old friend and first mate when he approached the shattered mainmast. The deck surrounding it was a tangled mass of rigging and sails. Beside the mess, a few of his men guarded the Winter Gale’s crew, knives and blunderbusses at the ready. The seamen were the usual riff-raff the Virginia Trading Company hired, the toughness of their lives etched on their scarred and gnarled hands. Their dubious pasts and need for regular pay made them indifferent to the numerous maritime crimes their employer committed but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t strike at or kill Richard and his men if given the chance.

‘The Winter Gale’s cooper says there’s rumours some Virginia Trading Company ships are trading with pirates.’

‘We’ll have to find out if they’re true and, if so, put a stop to it. Vincent can’t be allowed to recover from our strikes.’ The owner of the Virginia Trading Company had stolen everything from Richard and his crew. Richard would make sure he took everything from Vincent, including his company, his standing in Williamsburg and some day, his life.

‘Perhaps we should press the cooper into service in exchange for Mr Barlow. He’d certainly be more use to us than that bilge rat,’ Mr Rush suggested.

‘As tempting as it is to get rid of Mr Barlow, I won’t force any man into this life or invite more trouble than we already have.’ After their cooper had died of a fever, they’d needed a new one to build and repair the fresh-water casks. Mr Barlow had been the best they could find and his presence made their complicated lives even more difficult. The men didn’t trust him enough to tell him their real names, or the reason behind their piracy, and Richard made sure he never saw him without his mask. He felt certain the rat, when faced with the lure of coin or the threat of the gallows, would betray them all. They didn’t need to add another questionable man to their ranks and risk more danger. ‘Have you found anything?’

‘I searched the papers I pulled from the Captain’s desk. Nothin’ official there where they should be. Captain probably hid them before we boarded, like the last one did on your Mr Fitzwilliam’s orders.’

‘Then let’s ask the Captain.’ Richard marched up to where two of his men held the Captain and his first mate a short distance from his crew. The wiry first mate stepped back, but the Captain, a round man with a leathery face full of deep lines, stood firm against Richard’s approach.

‘Where are the ship’s papers?’ Richard demanded.

‘The papers?’ the thick man snorted. ‘You’re taking our cargo, what need can you have for our papers?’

‘I don’t have to explain my reasons. Tell me where you’re hiding the shipping passes and whatever else the Virginia Trading Company gave you before you set sail.’

‘There aren’t any papers.’ The Captain threw out his wide hands in feigned innocence and glanced at his first mate to reinforce his claim, but the first mate, silenced by his cowardice, stared at the deck.

‘Bollocks there aren’t.’ Richard snatched a pistol from his sash, then grabbed the Captain by the back of his thick neck and jerked him close. The stench of rum and dirty clothes engulfing the man was more pungent than rotting fish and so different from the faint scent of roses that had surrounded Cassandra. ‘Where are they?’

‘I don’t know,’ the Captain sputtered, struggling against Richard’s grasp.

Richard cocked the pistol hammer with his thumb and jammed the muzzle beneath the Captain’s chin, determined to find the documents. ‘Is hiding them worth your life?’

The man’s small eyes widened with the same fear Richard had witnessed in Cassandra’s and guilt tripped up Richard’s spine. At one time he’d been an admired and respected gentleman who only had to ask politely to receive things, not a brigand willing to kill a man over flimsy pieces of parchment. ‘Where are they?’

The Captain raised a shaking hand to point at something behind Richard. ‘There, in the cask by the mizzen mast.’

Richard shoved the man back to his first mate, holstered his pistol and stormed to the cask. He knocked aside the lid and reached inside. His fingers brushed nothing but a rough twist of rope before, near the bottom, he touched the smooth leather of a folio. He pulled it out and flipped through the air-dampened and watermarked contents, his hope fading with each turn of the vellum. He removed a shipping pass and held it up to the sun.

‘Anything?’ Mr Rush examined the pass over Richard’s arm.

‘I can’t tell. Either it’s real or Vincent is hiring more talented forgers.’ Richard laid it on top of the other papers in the folio and snapped it shut.

Curse the bastard. Vincent would pay for all his sins. Richard would make sure of it, but it wouldn’t be because of what they’d found on this ship.

‘Maybe we should search the Captain’s quarters?’ Mr Rush suggested. ‘Might be something more damning in there, something we missed.’

Richard looked at the Captain’s cabin and the crooked door which had been returned haphazardly to its jamb. Cassandra sat inside, preparing for their meal. He could almost see her dark blonde hair arranged in soft rows of curls framing her face, with the long curls at the back just brushing the nape of her neck when she tilted her face up to his, her eyes the same rich green and brown he used to lose himself in during those spring evenings in Williamsburg.

What the hell is she doing here? She should be in London, the grand lady of the manor like she’d always wanted to be in Virginia, not aboard one of Vincent’s ships complicating Richard’s plans and threatening his peace of mind. The accusations of selfishness she’d flung at him before he’d set sail from Yorktown five years ago came back to him like a punch in the gut. She’d gloat if she knew how right she’d been and still was. She might yet get the chance. ‘No. We’ve unsettled the lady and her child enough. I won’t disturb them again.’

Mr Rush hooked his thumbs in the belt of his breeches. ‘You’ll risk letting good evidence go because of the nerves of some titled woman?’

Richard folded the folio in half and used it to motion Mr Rush to join him at the balustrade, out of hearing of the others. ‘The lady in the cabin isn’t simply a titled passenger. She’s Walter Lewis’s niece.’

Mr Rush let out a low whistle. ‘Did she recognise you?’

‘No, and there’s no reason she should. Like everyone in Virginia, she thinks I’m dead.’ He tapped the folio against his palm, thinking of Cas and the odd opportunity that had all but landed in his lap. ‘I may resurrect myself before we leave. Walter’s a mere solicitor. He doesn’t have the connections in Williamsburg to collect information or wield influence, but a woman whose family used to be among the finest in Williamsburg might. Arrange for a meal in my cabin in one hour. I’m going to dine with the lady.’

‘And try to win her to our side, to have her risk the hangman’s noose for helpin’ pirates after you lied to her and attacked her ship?’ Mr Rush crossed his arms in disbelief. ‘I don’t care how skilled you are with the ladies of Port Royal, no man is that good.’

‘I am.’ He tapped the folio against Mr Rush’s chest with an arrogance he didn’t feel. If Richard revealed himself to her, Mr Rush was right, she would despise him for having lied to her, but he’d seen the faint flashes of recognition in Cas’s eyes and the desire that had clouded them when he’d teased her. Her mind might not have allowed her to believe he was still alive, but her heart had recognised him. It had been there in the faint blush that had coloured her cheeks when he’d stood close to her. It was wrong to play on this, but he’d long since stopped caring about right and wrong. All he wanted now was justice. Revenge. ‘See to the meal.’

Richard grabbed a hold of the rigging and swung himself up on to the planks connecting the two ships. He strode across the wood and dropped down on to the deck of the Devil’s Rose. Men stepped aside to allow him to pass as he bounded up the forecastle stairs. ‘Progress, Mr O’Malley.’

‘Another excellent haul, Captain,’ Mr O’Malley congratulated from where he stood at the helm while the rest of the crew continued to load the Winter Gale’s cargo into the hold. There it would stay until the next time they careened the ship at Knott Island when they’d bury it with the rest of their seized wealth.

‘It is.’ Richard clapped the helmsman on the back. ‘We’ve struck another well-deserved blow. There’ll be more to come before we’re through and we won’t stop until the Virginia Trading Company is wrecked.’

Richard’s triumph faded at the sight of Dr Abney watching him. Dr Abney knelt beside one of Richard’s men, treating the gash on his forearm. He looked away the moment he caught Richard’s eye, but there was no mistaking the accusation and disgust in his expression. Justice for his men was what Richard had sought since the beginning, but in Dr Abney’s aged eyes Richard caught a shadow of the darker man beneath the mask, the one who didn’t care about wealth or the future. Only bringing Vincent down.

He wondered if this was what Cassandra would see, too, when she dined with him.

He snatched up a map and rolled it out with a quick flick.

It didn’t matter what Cas saw or thought so long as she agreed to help him.

Chapter Two

‘It isn’t wise to dine alone with him, Lady Shepherd,’ Dr Abney cautioned from where he stood guarding the door. She and the Virginian surgeon had become friends during the crossing. He was one of the few people who’d heard the rumours about her in London and chosen not to believe them. Cassandra appreciated his fatherly attitude and the many pieces of advice he’d offered her about returning to Williamsburg since they’d set sail.

‘I have no more choice in whether to join him than you did in assisting his surgeon.’ Cassandra sat on the edge of Dinah’s bed, stroking her daughter’s dark hair and watching the child’s eyelids flutter while she slept. Jane stood on the other side, her small face with the snub nose still white with fright.

‘I understand, but others may not see it the same way and think you went to him willingly. It might bring you more heartache than you left behind in London.’

Cassandra paused in her stroking of Dinah’s hair. She was going to him willingly because he’d asked her to in exchange for the crew and the passengers’ freedom, not because he’d demanded it, but it didn’t change her lack of choice in the matter. Her daughter was her most prized possession and the only good to come from her marriage and she would do anything to protect her. ‘If I have to meet privately with Captain Rose to ensure we reach Virginia, and Dinah has a real home and a future, then I will.’

‘What future will she have if you are ruined?’

She leaned down and kissed Dinah’s chubby cheek, then rose to face Dr Abney. ‘Belle View plantation is mine and nothing, not rumours, my reputation or any man, can take it away from me.’ Though heaven knew what condition she’d find it in once she reached it. ‘Besides, if there’s one thing that can always be counted on, either in London or in Williamsburg, it’s the English love of titles and land. Thankfully, I possess both.’ It was money she lacked. She had enough fine gowns and jewellery to give the illusion of wealth so necessary for securing one’s place in society, but it wouldn’t last for ever. She hoped it worked in Williamsburg long enough for her to succeed for it was the only card she had to play.

She wandered to the window, desperate for a cool breeze to ease the heat. On either side of the open pane, the swirled leaded glass distorted the view of the water. The cloying humid air sat heavy over the ship and she dabbed her sweat-soaked chest with a small handkerchief, unable to find relief. The prospect of facing all the old ghosts waiting for her in Virginia unnerved her as much as the man she was about to dine with. ‘Captain Rose gave me his word that no harm will come to any of us and so far he’s kept his promise.’

‘Then for your sake, I pray he continues to do so.’

‘Me, too.’ She smoothed her hands over the light blue silk of her robe à la française, trying not to let Dr Abney’s concerns increase hers. If the Captain proved as untrustworthy as Giles, it would add another salacious story to the ones from London already trailing her like a wake behind a ship and make everything she hoped to regain in Williamsburg that much more difficult.

A knock at the door tightened the already strained air of the room.

‘Enter.’ Cassandra faced the door, lacing her hands together in front of her. She’d changed from her simple cotton day dress to a deep maroon silk one, with lace along the half sleeves and silver embroidered flourishes on the skirt and bodice. Although it was heavier and hotter than the other, it was thicker in the front and wider at the hips, revealing less of her narrow waist. The bodice was a touch higher, but it still emphasised a good deal more of her décolletage than she would have liked. Witty conversation was how she intended to charm Captain Rose into keeping his promise to send them on their way, not the more carnal assets Giles had once accused her of using to ensnare lovers. As loathsome as her late husband’s touch had been, there hadn’t been anyone but him. It no longer mattered. By wearing the fine gown, she’d give Captain Rose the cultured dinner partner he’d asked for. Besides, if he proved to be a rogue, none of her gowns, no matter how high the bodice or how wide the skirt, would stop him from taking what he wanted.

The man with the Monmouth cap entered, tugging at the dirty red scarf tied around his neck while he struggled to keep his eyes on hers and not her chest. ‘Mr Rush, milady. I’m to escort you to the Devil’s Rose.’

Cassandra took a steadying breath. She must be brave for Dinah’s sake and for everyone else aboard the Winter Gale. ‘Then let’s be off.’

Mr Rush offered her his arm. ‘Milady, if I may?’

She slid the slender walnut pistol box off the table and tucked it under her arm, wondering why Captain Rose had asked her to bring it. There were more valuable items he could take from her, though two fine weapons were probably of more use to a pirate than jewellery. She placed her free hand on Mr Rush’s coarse, sea-spray-stiffened coat and allowed him to lead her on deck and to an unknown fate.

The Winter Gale crew, guarded by the pirates, watched Cassandra and Mr Rush walk side by side to the wide planks laid between the ships. Pity filled a few of the older men’s eyes, but she ignored them as she’d ignored the vicious stares and whispers of London society. The plank bobbed and rolled while the two ships, held together by grappling hooks and lines, tossed about on the sea. Captain Rose stood on the other side, some of his men flanking him at the balustrade, the change in him from earlier remarkable.

He wore a black frock coat without facing. A row of silver buttons curved down along the front and decorated the bootleg cuffs folded back to reveal his large hands. A red waistcoat hugged his trim torso, the line of it broken by a wide belt pulled down on one side by the weight of his sword. Black breeches tucked into tall cuffed boots covered his long legs. The severity of his dark attire was lightened by the white shirt beneath his waistcoat and the silver embroidery about the edge of the tricorn he wore low over his forehead to meet his mask. His exposed cheeks and jaw beneath the mask revealed a smooth face freshly shaved. If she hadn’t seen him an hour ago, his shirt wild and loose about him, his hair hanging to his shoulders, she might have mistaken him for any gentleman in a ballroom in Mayfair.

When she approached the plank, he examined her with a gaze intense enough to ignite every cask of gunpowder on the ship. Panic gripped her harder than when the pirates had first burst through the door, and her hand tightened on Mr Rush’s arm. She wanted to rush back to the cabin and reload the pistols, but she held her ground, refusing to reveal her fear to everyone, especially Captain Rose.

‘You needn’t worry,’ Mr Rush offered when they stopped before the plank. ‘Captain Rose is a gentleman. No harm will come to you.’

The older man’s faith in his Captain bolstered hers and her courage. With Captain Rose and both crews watching, she couldn’t turn back or betray her word and risk placing the ship, herself and Dinah in danger. ‘Thank you for your concern, it’s very much appreciated.’

‘I’ll hold the box while you cross.’

She handed Mr Rush the pistol case, then took his hand and stepped up on to the plank. The timbers of the ships and the thick ropes lashing them together groaned and creaked with the movement of the swell and every once in a while the hulls banged together, sending up a small spray of water.

Captain Rose stepped up on to the plank on his side. He clutched the rigging in one hand and offered Cassandra the other. She ignored it and took hold of the sides of her dress and began to walk regally across the splintered wood. She didn’t look down, aware that if she fell between the ships they might slam together and crush her. She was halfway across the boards when the Winter Gale lurched, throwing her off balance.

In a flash of black fabric, Captain Rose caught her about the waist and whirled her around to set her on the deck of the Devil’s Rose. He held her close, his arm tight about her waist, his wide chest hard against her stomach. The potent smell of sandalwood shaving soap and leather surrounding him made her dizzier than the near fall. He’d been imposing in the confines of the cabin with little more than the distance of the pistols between them. With his body pressed against hers, the fine wool of his frock coat brushing her bare chest above her bodice, he was overwhelming.

‘The trick is to move quickly.’ His husky voice rumbled deep inside her. She peered up at him, her breath stolen by his closeness. His suntanned skin showed no evidence of the weathered grit of a sailor too long at sea and the fine colour of it heightened the black of his hair. She shouldn’t think a rogue striking, but she did.

‘Thank you.’ She inhaled the spice of wood and salt emanating from him and another memory, faint like the fading scent of smoke, rose up in the back of her mind. It was of Uncle Walter’s Williamsburg garden and the flowering dogwood tree in the centre of it. Beneath it stood Uncle Walter’s young apprentice solicitor waiting to steal a kiss from her. That young man was dead, but this one was very much alive, his chest hard beneath her fingertips, his thigh firm against hers.

She tucked her fingers in against her palms, resisting the urge to slide them up over his stoic chin, across his angled cheeks and under the silk to reveal his face. She wanted to see the gentleman beneath the pirate, to view the full effect of the sharp, straight nose covered by the black silk and the intense blue eyes making her recall so many things she longed to forget.

She lowered her hands and his grip on her eased. She stepped out of his embrace, steadying herself against the roll of the ship and the enticing power of him. He wasn’t a curiosity, but her enemy, and she must remember it and remain on guard.

Mr Rush crossed with the box and handed it to his Captain.

Captain Rose tucked the pistol case under one arm and offered her the other. ‘Shall we?’

‘Yes, please.’

The supple wool of his dark jacket shifted beneath Cassandra’s palm with each sure step of his boots during the walk to his cabin. She matched his stride, holding her head high as if they were parading across Hyde Park and not a pirate ship. The crew stood at respectful attention, with only the weasel Mr Barlow leering as though he expected Captain Rose to ravish her in plain view. She should have shot the nasty man, but heaven knew what repercussions his death would have brought down on her, Dinah and the crew of the Winter Gale. Even now she couldn’t say what fate awaited her. Alone, with the door to Captain Rose’s cabin firmly closed, she would be at his mercy. However, the lives of many depended on her being a pleasant and charming guest, so with purpose she swept across the threshold and into the semi-darkness of his cabin.

A bank of diamond-shaped glass windows made up the far wall of the narrow cabin situated at the back of the ship. A faded, red-velvet curtain graced the top of the window, cascading down each side and edged with faded gold tassels. One end hung next to a small desk, the other end pooled near the head of the narrow bed built into the hull. Her attention darted from the sumptuous pillows and fine coverlet to the small, square table in the middle of the room. A woven rug lay beneath it and two sturdy nail-head-trimmed chairs flanked either side. An assortment of exotic fruits including pineapples covered the well-set table. Everything from the silverware beside each plate to the books arranged on the desk spoke of the refined tastes of a gentleman, not the vulgar clutter of a hardened sailor new to comfort. It was a strange contradiction. He was commanding, but he hadn’t forced her; charming and yet violent; a scoundrel and at the same time a man of station. She wondered what had driven him to this life. Perhaps through witty conversation and grace of manners she could bring out more of the gentleman she was sure he’d once been and appeal to him for her and the Winter Gale’s freedom.