Jocelyn screamed as Ric crumbled at the French soldier’s feet after the man issued a viscous blow to Ric’s head with the handle of his pistol.
“Arreter!” Stop! Don’t hurt him. He’s telling you the truth. I am Jocelyn Beauchamp and I am very much alive. I demand you bring me to my father.”
Lieutenant Moreau snapped his fingers and had the man Ric punched dragged off the deck toward the waiting French ship. Another kneeled on Ric’s spine while he bound his hands behind his back. “Throw both the prisoners into the brig.”
Ric hadn’t moved. Blood ran over his face. He could be dead. Jocelyn screeched after the Lieutenant. “You must listen to me.” Behind her, iron bands snapped around her wrists.
Moreau’s mouth formed a narrow slash. He gave her a hard stare before issuing the order to his men. “If you have to, gag her.”
Jocelyn struggled to keep from falling while she was dragged with bruising hands over the rail of the sloop to the boarding ladder and up to the huge brigantine. On the French ship, the deck teamed with men. More than she could count--not as if she were given the chance. Without ceremony, she was dragged below into the dark belly of the ship, and thrown into a filthy, dank room.
Landing in a heap, she recoiled at the stench. Air fowl with the smells of rotten hay, bilge, tar and human excrement had her pulling at her restraints to cover her nose and mouth. She tried to bury her face into her shoulder, but the painful pull of her shackles stopped her.
Indescribable dampness seeped through the cloth of her breeches to chill and claw at her skin. She scrambled to her feet as Ric was tossed in alongside of her with an “Oof,” before the iron door was slammed shut. The sound of the key scrapping in the lock distracted her briefly from the intensity of the darkness.
“Ric, oh my God.” She tried to focus. Only the tiny barred window in the door let in any semblance of light. She fumbled toward Ric until she found him. With her hands behind her back, she couldn’t lift him out of the muck or even feel to see if he was still alive.
She dropped down next to him, ignoring the filth. He’d landed on his side. With the horrifying thought of his face laying on God knows what, she pushed at him with her shoulder until she’d rolled his body over. Laying her ear to his chest, she almost wept to hear the strong beating of his heart.
“Ric, can you hear me?” When he didn’t answer, panic crept up Jocelyn’s spine. “Oh, please say something. Please.” Her breathing started to race, only pulling more and more of the fetid air into her lungs. What was she going to do?
Then something from the depths of her worst nightmare rustled through the rancid hay and scampered across her ankle. Shrieking, she bolted to her feet. Rats. Dear God, there were rats down here.
“Get up, Ric. Please…oh Mother Mary, save us.” She stomped her feet hoping it would keep the vermin away from them.”
A low groan from the floor was the sweetest sound Jocelyn could ever remembering hearing. “Ric? Oh, please be okay.” She kept marching as loudly as she could.
“Jocelyn?” he moaned.
“Yes, I’m here,” she gasped. “Thank goodness.”
“What are you doing?” he groaned.
“There are rats,” she sobbed.
“Marching rats?” he mumbled as he struggled to sit.
Jocelyn didn’t stop. “No, I’m keeping them at bay.”
“Talking…works just as well.” Ric managed to lean against one of the sidewalls of the small cell before groaning again. “Bloody hell, bastard nearly cleaved my skull in two.”
Jocelyn moved to sit next to him. “You went down like a sack.”
“Did I at least knock out the other guy?” He grumbled.
She pressed close to his side and wished she could hold him. “I won’t be surprised if he doesn’t wake until next week.”
He looked her over. “Did they hurt you?” She doubted he could see any more in the dark than she could.
Jocelyn tipped her head to rest on his shoulder. “Not as much as they hurt you.”
“Damn it. MacTavish stowing that bloody wine really put my neck in a noose.” He shifted to sit straighter. “Wait ‘til Beauchamp finds out they shackled his daughter. Moreau will be on barnacle inspection from here on out.”
“He wouldn’t listen. I tried telling him again, but he refused to hear me.” A worried thought kept circling Jocelyn’s mind. “What if they don’t take me to see my father?”
Ric snorted then winced. “Oh, you’ll be seeing your father.”
“How can you be so sure?” She didn’t dare hope.
Ric leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “He’ll have to read the charges against us, before he orders us hung.”
Jocelyn bumped him with her shoulder. “Saying such things is not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” He met her gaze in the gloom. “How long has it been since you’ve seen him? Will he recognize you?”
“It’s been a few years, but in filthy men’s clothing, with wild, cropped hair, sporting shackles? It may take him a moment. If he can get over the fact I’m not dead.”
“He must have received word the ship transporting you from France was captured and you were taken to Port Royal. By now, he’s heard reports of the earthquake. No wonder he assumes you’re dead.”
Jocelyn tried to imagine how her father would have reacted to hearing such news. Would he have suffered? Agonized at the thought of her meeting such a horrific end? Wept for her? Somehow doubting it seemed unkind to him. He was her father after all. While she had lived a life accepting his distance, surely there were feelings there. He was a man not a stone.
Ric continued. “If he can’t see his beautiful long-haired daughter standing before him in the finest abbey garb, is there something you can say to him, some bit of private information only you and he would know?”
Jocelyn drew her brows together. “I’d need to think.”
“Don’t think on it too long.” Ric let out a long breath.
“I have to believe it will all be fine. I won’t need to convince him. And once he realizes I didn’t die in Port Royal, he’ll be so overjoyed, we’ll be released.”
Ric snorted again. “Not if he learns who I am, and that you’ve been aboard the Scarlet Night this whole time.”
In the dim light she could see the swelling of Ric’s temple. It was already starting to discolor. She wished her hands were free. Leaning over, she kissed the smooth skin above. “I realize my father can be a tyrant. He has always led with an iron fist. With his men and his daughter. But I believe him to be a fair man, as well. Once I tell him it was you who saved me, it won’t matter what your name, or which ship I happened to traveled on. He’ll be so grateful, he won’t care.”
“Hope you’re right. In my dealings with the man, ‘fair’ was never how I’d describe him.” Ric closed his eyes again.
“I am right, wait and see.” Jocelyn didn’t know who she was trying to convince more. “Father will be so happy to see me he’ll insist you keep the damn wine.”
“And maybe he’ll be so filled with gratitude he proclaims me the next King of France.” Ric scoffed. “Offers me my own fleet of warships.”
“And the hand of his only daughter?” Jocelyn suggested with a small sigh.
Ric kissed her hair. “Aye, we shall wait and see”
It wasn’t to be a lengthy wait. Before too long, the ship slowed. The water rushing past the hull and the creak of wet wood quieted. Jocelyn’s jump of nerves made her tremble. She dropped her head to Ric’s shoulder.
“We’re entering Tortuga harbor.” Ric confirmed. “It’s shaped like a tight purse. Narrow passage into a small ladle of water, perfect for defending from the fort’s guns above. None come in or out without notice.”
“I wish I could see.”
“Fort de Rocher sits high off the shore. You’ll see it soon enough. Two star points on each corner face the sea.” Ric shifted to look at her. “I need you to listen to me, Jocelyn. I’m not sure I’ll get another chance to speak with you.”
“Don’t say such things.”
“They’ll separate us when we dock, and I don’t know how long we will wait to be brought before the Admiral or even if we’ll be taken there together.”
“How will I know what happens to you?”
“You won’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. What happens to me doesn’t matter. As soon as you get the chance, reunite with your father. It was the plan all along.”
“It wasn’t the plan for you. How will you get back to the Scarlet Night? What if my father’s men won’t release you? Tupper will sail off without you.”
“My being captured always a chance, one I made willingly. But you can’t worry about what’s out of our control.”
“Do you suppose I can stop loving you, as well?”
“Jocelyn…”
“Do not Jocelyn me. I will not cease until I know you are away. Watching you leave will be hard enough. You cannot ask me to turn my back on you. Not know your fate. I won’t do it.”
“You may not have a choice. “The two were jostled as the ship’s anchor was dropped and took hold. “We’re here. They’ll be coming for us soon. God, I wish I could hold you.”
Jocelyn leaned in to kiss him. “I’m not ready. Oh, Ric, I love you.”
“No matter what happens to me, I will always love you. These last few weeks…I’ll never forget, not a second of it.”
“Don’t you dare say, good bye, not yet.”
Ric’s gaze jerked toward the door. Footsteps came closer. Turning back, he crushed his mouth to hers before the door crashed open and strong hands pulled her away from him.
“No!” She was hauled to her feet and shoved toward the door. The men hauling her away made crude remarks and jibes. “Ric.” She twisted back for one more look.
“She’s the Admiral’s daughter, you bloody bastards.” He shouted out as two more solders did their best to subdue him. “Joce--”
“Let me loose.” She jerked at her jailors. “Don’t hurt him. Ric!”
They didn’t stop until they dragged her out into the daylight. Jocelyn winced at the brightness above deck. The ship they were on sat moored off shore as the docks were crowded with larger ships.
Just as Ric described, a large square stone fortress stood high and foreboding perched upon a great hill well away from the busy harbor as if it had been carved into the surrounding stone. Its front corners resembling arrows or star points. All the trees had been cleared on two sides giving it an unobstructed view of the harbor and surrounding area. There was only one road to the fort. Carts, mules, horses, soldiers, and townspeople crowded the roadway that wound up toward the forbidding gates. Sitting at the top of the hill, lording over the fort, stood a building balanced on the highest point. Gray and brooding over all it surveyed.
A shiver ran through Jocelyn as the sun dipped behind a cloud. She’d been anticipating this moment, stepping into her father’s world and a future of his choosing. One cage to another. How appropriate that she was arriving in chains.
From the brigantine to a small transfer boat, to an open, horse-drawn cart, Jocelyn was dragged from one to the other toward her fate. She kept looking back over her shoulder hoping to see Ric, but there was no sign of him. Her wrists burned as did the muscles along her shoulders, but the pain paled in comparison to the ache in her heart. Please let him be all right. Please, Mother Mary, keep him safe.
Leading from the docks, a wide curving road arched higher and higher before cutting back past the first star point and traveling on to end at the second. The layout of the fort was genius. Like the harbor, it had one way in, one way out. Anyone foolish enough to attack would be forced past the guns and never make it to the gates. The surrounding terrain made any other entrance impossible.
Her battered heart sank as she looked up the high sheer walls of the fort. This cage would be the death of her.
Through a labyrinth of gates making up the entry, they finally reached the inner courtyard. There had to be a hundred smartly uniformed men inside. The depth of Jocelyn’s dread deepened with each clop of the horse pulling their cart.
They came to a stop in front of a row of low buildings. Jocelyn was jerked from the cart, dragged down a shaded corridor, and thrown into a stone cell.
“Please,” she begged her captors. She had to try one more time. “You must believe me. Tell my father I’m here. I swear I am Jocelyn Angelique Beauchamp.”
One of the men ignored her. The other only laughed, “And I am King Louis.”
A door of thick iron bars slammed behind her. The sound of the lock snapping into place sending a shaft of fear and loathing straight through her chest.