The Rise of Rebecca Rowe
useful way to thwart kings, which was why Aurelia had chosen to fake her own as the grand finale to her ruse.
Pig blood dripped from the small vessel set over her seat, which Ralph and Lavinia had quickly installed as everyone was too distracted watching Aurelia walk up the steps to be married. Now chaos erupted outside as people saw the dark streams of blood on the window and the pirate inside with a lump that looked like a corpse. The carriage wound through the crowd with men dressed in blue marching before and behind, undeterred by shrieks and fainting ladies and screaming men.
William’s hands braced Aurelia’s waist, helping her turn her body as she stayed low and out of sight.
“You told me shooting Pierre was too one-note,” Aurelia said by way of greeting.
“I didn’t think you’d object.” He pulled a knife and cut through the buttons of her dress in a swift stroke. She shoved the sleeves to her wrists and freed herself from the mounds of silk and petticoats until she was only in her stays and shift. A satchel was tied around her waist under her dress, and now she loosened it and let it drop to the floor. Precious metals and jewels clanked inside.
William pulled away the golden dress and handed over folded pants and a shirt. On top of the shirt was his knife, which she used to saw through the front of her stays, careful not to cut herself as the carriage bumped and jostled. “I don’t object. I just—ugh!” She grunted at the knife and the awkward angle.
William took it from her hand, sliced down the front of the undergarment, and tore it open. Then he pulled it away to add to the heap of wedding garb. “If you say I shouldn’t have done it,” he said, “I’ll be very cross with you. And I don’t want to be cross when I’ve just gotten you back.”
“I won’t say it.” Aurelia awkwardly slipped into her pants and shirt from the carriage floor before tugging the final bits of flowy undergarments through the neck, which she placed into his waiting hand. “But what about your pardon?”
“Revenge is non-negotiable, and I can live without pardons. Besides, I’ve got the money.” He took her hand and slipped off the prince’s diamond. “And the girl.” Her gold wedding band slid into place.
She grabbed the boots next to her and slipped them on. As she did, William pulled the diamonds from her ears and neck. She worked the tiara free from her hair and dumped it into the satchel, and William’s hands came beside hers, gently combing away jeweled pins.
Then she set to work braiding her hair as it usually was. By the time she reached the end, William held out a small leather tie. She plucked it from his fingers, and as soon as she’d tied off her braid, he hooked his finger under her chin and tipped her face up.
“I missed you,” he said. He pecked her lips and sat back, spreading his arms over the back of the bench seat. “And I’m never doing that again.”
Still hiding on the floor, she patted the satchel with a grin. “Not even for a bag of priceless royal jewels? They gave me a choice of what I could wear today, and I stole every single piece they showed me.”
His gaze went to the crowds who screamed with excitement and then horror as they saw the blood they assumed was Aurelia’s dripping into mounds of gold silk. “Not for anything, Aurelia.”
She took his hand. “It was only a game.”
“And as much as I enjoy games, I did not like this one.”
She studied his face, the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the stubble shadowing his jaw and cheeks. “William, are you cross with me?”
He shook his head. “No, love, not with you.”
“I’m perfectly alright. Truly I am.”
He appeared cavalier for anyone who might catch a glimpse of him through the windows. His voice, however, was anything but—it was that of a man tortured. “Truly I am not. No ruse has ever hurt before—none have required me to be so vile. And were it not enough that I said all those awful things all those weeks ago and watched Pierre drag you away, I went to that infernal party.” His face scrunched into disdain. “I saw how they mocked you. Made a spectacle of you. Pierre deserved more than a shot to the arm. All of them deserve so much more for how they treated you in front of everyone. In front of me.”
She said lightly, “I got my revenge.” The full extent of which wouldn’t be known for weeks, as she’d prepared the prince’s suffering to continue long after she was gone.
“I courted the notion of stealing you back,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken. “Lavinia had to stop me nearly every day, and I had to apologize more times than I can count for being an ass.” The anger returned to his eyes, molten and gleaming. “Today I was supposed to walk into that church and take you away. But then I saw you standing there, wearing his jewels, his gown, his perfume, dressed like a pretty sacrifice to appease your family, and I would have happily burned everything down just to spite them. You’re not meant to be stifled and trussed.”
“Well…I am dead now,” she said. “So I’m free to do as I please.” The thought made her feel like soaring, like screaming and laughing manically simply because she could. Because she was free.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “My God, Aurelia. You shouldn’t have to die. I hate myself for putting you there. Of all the vile, wicked things a husband can do—”
“I had it handled,” she said. “And I could’ve left at any time.”
William rolled his lips between his teeth. “And far be it from me to keep anything from you, but in the future I will deny you. I’ll deny you my cruelty and abandonment. I’ll deny putting you anywhere you’ll be treated as a toy.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you smiling?”
She very nearly laughed. “I love you too, William. More than anything in this world. And now that I’ve won my freedom and proven myself to be formidable in all things piratey and awful, I am content.”
His voice rose slightly. “As though nothing in the past few months has proven you’re a pirate? This had to be the test, and not one of the hundred other incredible things you’ve done.”
“I’m sorry this hurt you,” she said.
“I’m hurt? Aurelia…” He gave an incredulous laugh. “You are utterly maddening sometimes. Did you not hear a thing I just said?”
Now that they neared the docks, she heaved herself onto the seat beside him, her voice as cold as his. “You’re a liar, William. A foul, dirty liar. You lied from the moment we met when you told me your father was immortal or that you’d hurt me if I told. You lied when you said I was just a member of your crew and when you told the prince you were done with me.”
He scowled. “Thank you?”
She grabbed his jaw. “But do you think I don’t know you? You believe you hurt me, but you didn’t. You haven’t, because from your letters and your love, I know you, and I never once doubted you. You leaving me in that house was not cruelty—you prepared me to wreck Pierre, and I did. I’m still wrecking him, and I’ve loved it.” She leaned in, her gaze boring into his. “My heart is entirely full, and I absolve you of any guilt over the game I asked you to play. I’ll never ask it of you again. I won’t want to.”
The carriage halted. Beyond the window was a harbor filled with ships. “Good, because I’m never letting you go,” he muttered. He eyed the door and nodded to it. “We should probably get out before the carriage explodes.”
Her eyes bulged. “Has it been strapped with explosives this whole time?”
William looked worryingly unconcerned. “I had it done last night.”
With a low curse, Aurelia grabbed her satchel, opened the door, and threw herself out while William burst with laughter behind her. “You know me,” he reminded her.
Only one ship in the harbor teemed with people. It was the prince’s own, a sleek, burgundy vessel populated with blue coats who hollered and scrambled as they unfurled the sails and weighed anchor.
Those who’d marched with the carriage now flowed around her as she and Copson trailed up the gangplank. Aurelia recognized many of them, but others were French who’d no doubt signed on to Copson’s crew. He’d need them, now that it appeared he was stealing another ship for his fleet.
In the distance, the Destiny’s Revenge hurtled down the English Channel toward the Dover Strait. Aurelia watched the massive ship grow nearer as she followed Copson toward the helm.
“Why’s the Destiny here? You don’t take it through the strait.”
“Because we’re flaunting,” he said. “The French and English will have no excuse to ignore us or what we’ve done today.”
At that moment, the wedding carriage exploded on the docks, erasing any evidence that she hadn’t died at all. But she didn’t even flinch, giddy as she followed William up the steps to the quarterdeck where Ralph stood at the helm, grinning and still dressed in French livery, though he’d abandoned his coat.
“Welcome back, Rowe,” he said.
She gave a toothy smile. “Barrington.”
Ralph called orders to the crew, which were repeated in French by someone nearby. The sails unfurled, and the ship pulled away from the docks.
It wasn’t until they’d left the harbor and were gaining speed that a grumpy-looking Bartholomew mounted the steps, his black hair blowing in the wind. Now that she knew who he was, Aurelia saw the resemblance to his brothers—he’d taken the darkest features of both.
“Cut it a little close, didn’t you?” he snapped at the captain. “You said you’d be here ten minutes earlier.”
Copson frowned. “Mind your tone,” he said lowly.
Bartholomew rolled his eyes, and then his gaze landed on Aurelia. At first, he didn’t seem to recognize her, and alarm lit his expression as he glanced at the captain. “Pardon—”
Aurelia nodded in greeting and said, “Good to see you, Bartholomew.”
He looked at her again, and after a second, his anxiety vanished as realization settled in. “Oh. You.”
“Captain promised him a fishing ship in return for his help pulling the new crew together,” Ralph said to Aurelia.
“Temporary help,” Bartholomew insisted, still fixed under Copson’s judgmental gaze and seeming not to care. “I refuse to be stuck here forever.”
“Bart, this is Rebecca Rowe,” Ralph said.
“Rebecca?” Bartholomew’s face scrunched. “I thought your name was—”
“Aurelia Danby is dead,” Copson said loudly enough for the crew to hear as they sailed into the channel. “Miss Rowe killed her.”
“Rebecca,” Ralph said with a shake of his head. “You really should get your jealousy under control.”
Aurelia flipped her braid over her shoulder. “And you should keep your opinions to yourself.”
“I quite like her jealousy,” Copson said mildly.
Ralph smirked. “You deserve each other.”
Bartholomew looked between the three of them, confusion written over his face. He mumbled, “I hate it here,” and left the quarterdeck.
“He’ll come around,” Ralph said to his older brother.
The captain watched Bartholomew go. “He unsettles me.”
Ralph laughed once. “Because he doesn’t fear you?”
Copson’s attention snapped to Ralph, and his words came lower, sharper. “Say that any louder, Ralph, and I’ll keelhaul you.”
“Sounds like an exquisite time.” Ralph spun the wheel, bringing the ship alongside the Destiny’s Revenge. They soared through the channel side by side, the prince’s stolen ship easily keeping pace. A flag raised up the main mast, featuring an anchor with two crossed swords.
Though William’s face was serene, his eyes were keen as he looked over his newest ship. Aurelia wondered what he saw and intended to ask him later when she’d have an hour or two to listen.
Night fell by the time they anchored well off the coast of England next to the Ophelia and the Fortuna Royale. William and Aurelia returned to the Destiny’s Revenge, and they’d hardly crossed the threshold to their quarters when he kicked the door closed, grabbed her waist, and pulled her into a ruthless kiss.
His hands were in her hair, untying her braid. She knocked his hat off, and he slipped out of his coat and tossed it on the couch as they stumbled through the room, not breaking until she laughed and pulled away to shrug off her heavy satchel.
William watched her with dark eyes, his chest heaving. The moment she was free of the bag, he tugged her back.
“Wait!” she squealed. “Don’t you want to see what I stole?”
His hold tightened. “No.”
“William!” she laughed, dodging his kiss.
He caught her face in his hands. “Aurelia, I’ve spent every moment of the last month acutely aware of your absence.” He pressed his forehead to hers, and she shivered as his words whispered over her skin. “I didn’t think it possible to miss someone so much…now please don’t make me beg.”
After so long apart, she decided the jewels weren’t that important at all. The satchel fell to the floor as she surrendered to him. He tugged her toward the bed, both of them kicking off their boots and peeling off their clothes until nothing separated them—not fabric or distance or time. They didn’t speak, for they’d done enough of that on the other ship while something else simmered silently between them, stoked by heated glances and the occasional touch until it grew to stifling, pressing need.
So they thoroughly lost themselves in one another until the early hours of the morning.
When they were spent and satisfied, Aurelia laid on her side, facing him while she stared at a new painting hanging on the wall. It was small, with a beautiful, dancing lady. Hidden away, she knew, was also an antique vase that cost a fortune.
“You know, I’ve never taken revenge on someone,” she said. “Not really.”
He trailed his fingers through her unbound hair. “And how was it?”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “You were the voice in my head telling me to give in to my more creative ideas.” She pulled her gaze from the painting to look at him. “They won’t have discovered everything I did to them for at least three months.”
The stolen items, the rumors, and the stories that would eventually be leaked to the public—her revenge would last, and it would be divine.
A laugh rumbled through him. “Bravo, love. You’re almost as terrible as I am.”
She blinked. “William.”
He propped his head on his hand, which did impressive things for his bicep. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sinfully proud of you—it’s just that I have several more years at this.”
She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the swath of his hard chest, the long scar, and the muscular planes of his abdomen that disappeared beneath the green sheets. “I am your wife and therefore equal in all things, and that includes—biblically—your reputation.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” he said with the carefree, dazzling smile that made her melt. “But you’re coming mighty close. I don’t think Copson will be a name that inspires fear for one formidable pirate much longer, but two.”
She sat up. “Am I to be a Copson, then?”
His eyes followed her, but he remained where he was. “After these past weeks, I want everyone to know Rebecca Rowe is more than my love—you are my bride, as cruel and bloodthirsty as myself. And they’ll be terrified by us both, together, forever. Take my name if you want, or don’t—everyone will know who we are either way.”
She loved the thought of being known as both a dreadful pirate and the infamous captain’s bride…but she also loved being Rebecca Rowe, and she’d keep the name for now. After all, she already had the surname that truly mattered.
Aurelia leaned down to run her finger along his jaw, drawing close enough see the rings of darker blue around his irises. “What about your immortality? Would you go on without me?”
“I suppose we’ll have to return to the Fountain of Youth if it’ll annoy you to die without me.”
“You forgot where it was,” she said. “And the witch died.”
“Luckily I know where to find another—I think you’ll like Tortuga.” With a single, quick kiss, he pushed himself up to lean against the pillows and pulled her onto his chest. “We’ll make you immortal too, and our children can change the story as they wish when we retire to some ostentatious estate bought with schemes and lies and piles of filthy gold.”
Our children. She’d have children with William, and now that she was free, she could think about them, want them, plan for them. They’d be raised in two worlds, as William had been, but they would be safe with pirates for parents—and grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. They wouldn’t be neglected or forgotten.
She wanted that life. Oh, how she craved it. And she would have it, in time.
“Schemes,” she said as his fingers trailed idle circles over her lower back. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well,” he said, skimming her waist, “we have to go set the story straight with the few people we like, as they’ll undoubtedly be reading the papers.”
She sighed, content to be here in his arms, back on the ship she adored with the man she loved. “Our family?” she whispered, and bit her lower lip as delight sparkled through her.
He chuckled and kissed her brow as her heavy eyes slipped shut. “Yes, Lady Kingswood. Our family.”