Chapter 12

 

 

Boyd raised a spyglass to his eye. “There’s Stornoway, and there’s the merchantman waiting for us.”

Malcolm studied him from the side. Boyd had this whole thing planned out. He must have sent word about what he planned to do before leaving Stromness. Whatever this was, this was no spontaneous reaction to his father’s death.

Malcolm shuddered. He had to watch this man. He had to stay on his toes at all times in readiness for Boyd’s next move.

Boyd whipped the glass down and shouted to Noah in the wheelhouse, “Take us in and dock next to the merchantman. We’ll go aboard, and then ye can hie along home.”

Noah leaned against the wheel, and the trawler nosed into the harbor. In a few minutes, the trawler’s hull bumped into the dock.

Boyd handed Noah a sealed envelope. “Give this to yer captain. If he gives ye any bother about the boat, ye can apply to the Guild House. They’ll settle everything for ye.”

Noah bobbed his head. “Aye, Master.”

“Get along home now,” Boyd told him. “No sense in ye hanging about here any longer than ye have to.”

“Aye.” Malcolm gave Noah a nod behind Boyd’s back as Boyd leaped ashore.

While Noah went about his business, Malcolm watched Boyd exchange words with the harbormaster before he turned and waved for Malcolm to follow.

Malcolm stuck his head into the cabin. “Time to move, lass. We’re changing ships.”

Vic stood up from the bunk and hugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Malcolm stood back to let her out of the cabin. She’d remained stiff and distant from him ever since his outburst yesterday, and so much the better. The more distance she kept between herself and him, the safer everyone would be. He didn’t care about anything so much as getting her as far away from Noah Kelly as he could get her. She didn’t need any help, either. She crossed the gangplank to the wharf and up the other gangplank on board the merchantman as sure of foot as any man.

The party turned away to their new conveyance. Noah returned to the trawler and got busy with the ropes, but he didn’t cast off.

With at least some sense of relief that he could trust Noah to get word to the Prometheus of the merchantman’s pursuit, Malcolm followed Vic onto the deck of the Revenge. They approached Boyd as he shook hands with the captain mid-ship. The man touched his hat brim to Vic, speaking to Boyd as his gaze stayed on her. “I didnae ken ye were bringing a lady on board. There’s a cabin aft of mine that’ll suit ye fine, Madam.”

“Thank you,” Vic replied.

“I’ll show ye to your cabin,” Malcolm said as he gestured for Vic to follow.

The captain turned back to Boyd. “We just received word. The ship ye’re looking for is no’ twenty miles off from here. We’ll put off immediately and engage with her within the hour, I’d say.”

“Excellent,” Boyd exclaimed.

Malcolm spun around and stared at the two men in shock, but he couldn’t speak. The Prometheus—an hour away! That wouldn’t give Noah time to warn the Lewises. The merchantman would catch them unawares.

Vic’s gentle voice drifted into his ear. “I can find my own way to the cabin. You better stay here with them.”

Malcolm whirled toward her, away from Boyd and the captain, his guts twisting in knots. He had to hold himself together, now more than ever. He couldn’t show anyone how much this disturbed him. He set off to show Vic to her cabin and opened the door on a much nicer room than the one aboard the trawler. Soft light played on a bed made up to suit the tastes of the finest lady. He stepped into the room behind her and closed the door.

Vic stiffened to draw away from him. “What’s going on?”

“I dinnae mean to alarm ye, lass,” he murmured. “Did ye just hear the captain tell Boyd we’d engage the Lewises in an hour? Ye must remain in here no matter what. There’s likely to be musket balls and cannonballs and a sight more flying around on deck in no time at all. Stay here where ye’ll be safe.”

She relaxed. “I understand. Thank you.”

He let out a shaky breath, not wanting to leave just yet. Her presence soothed him, even as it cast his whole existence into doubt.

“Is there anything else, Malcolm?” she asked.

He couldn’t stop staring at her bright green eyes. Every swoop of her eyelashes shattered his carefully constructed world. Was she his friend or his enemy? How could he begin to make her understand who and what he was, or to win her over to his way of seeing things? She already hated him, so what was the use?

The longer he stood there gazing at her lovely face, the more confused and unsettled she made him. A thousand things struggled to be spoken between them, and he couldn’t give voice to any of them. Devouring pain ate away at his insides as he looked at her. He wanted to hide from her, but he couldn’t break away.

She cocked her head to one side, studying him closer, then stepped nearer to him and laid her hand on his arm. “I understand,” she breathed. “You’re agitated about meeting the Lewises in battle. It must be nerve-racking.”

A jolt rocketed through him at her touch. His instincts told him to pull away, but he stopped himself in time and held firm to tolerate her blistering hand. “It’s no’ that, lass. I’m only concerned for yer safety. I dinnae mind meeting the Lewises in battle, or at any other time, but I never met them with a cargo as precious as ye on board.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, and her eyelashes fluttered. Her lips quivered, and a burning streak of fire shot through his middle. Christ, why did she have to be so fascinating?

“Thank you, Malcolm,” she replied. “That’s very kind of you to say so. I didn’t know I was such precious cargo to you.”

“I wouldnae have brought ye from Stromness at all,” he blurted out, “only Boyd ordered we bring ye along. I dinnae ken why he did it if he didnae intend to put ye in harm’s way.”

Her head shot up, her eyes wide. “Why would he do that? He wouldn’t deliberately put me in a dangerous situation. I can’t believe that about him.”

“Ye dinnae ken him the way I do. He’d do a lot worse if it meant gaining some advantage over the Lewises. He thinks they sent ye back here. Maybe he thinks ye’re precious cargo to them, but ye’re no’ precious cargo to him, I can tell ye that much.”

Vic’s jaw dropped, and she gasped. “How can you say such things about your own cousin? He can’t be as bad as that.”

“Ye must have seen it, lass,” Malcolm replied. “He’s been using magic to manipulate ye. Ye’re a tool to him, and he’ll use ye the way he sees fit. How else do ye explain him bringing ye along on this lark? He means to use ye against them any way he can.”

Her startled expression disturbed him more than anything. He’d said more than he intended, but he couldn’t stand her thinking Boyd was some sort of savior sent to guide her to peace and rest. She better understand her position on this journey.

He lowered his eyes. “I shouldnae have said that. I beg yer pardon.”

“Why shouldn’t you have said it?” she asked. “Is it not true?”

“Och, it’s true, all right,” he replied. “I shouldnae have frightened ye with it. That’s all.”

She snapped her mouth closed, and her eyes narrowed to two glimmering embers. She straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not frightened. I guess I suspected something like it, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

“It’s true, lass,” he replied. “Boyd’ll tell ye himself if ye ask him straight.”

She turned away to gaze through the windows over her bunk, her whole tiny frame quivering with buried tension.

Malcolm jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’d best get up on deck. Boyd’ll be—”

“I don’t have to ask him.” She didn’t turn around. “I already know it’s true.”

Malcolm shifted from one foot to the other. “Aye. Well, ye stay down here and dinnae come up on deck—no’ during the firefight, anyways. I’ll come and check on ye every so often.”

She didn’t reply, so he slipped out of the cabin. His brain stewed in a ferment. What was he thinking saying something like that to her? At least she’d listened and believed him about Boyd. Maybe that would give her some cause to question whether to trust him. He couldn’t hope it would give her any reason to change her opinion on the Lewises. That would have to come from somewhere else.

He hurried out on deck where the crew worked over the ropes to hoist sail. In a few minutes, the merchantman nosed out of the harbor and into the channel. Malcolm caught a fleeting glimpse of Noah racing through the streets. He dove between two buildings and disappeared going God knows where. Wherever he was going, he would be too late. Even if by some miracle, he got to the Prometheus before the merchantman overtook her, he couldn’t give them enough warning to make a difference. A few minutes here or there wouldn’t help.

Malcolm strode to the bow. He propped one foot on the capstan and sighed, letting his chin sink onto his chest and his shoulders slump. Whatever danger Vic faced on this ship couldn’t come near to the danger facing him. The merchantman would engage with the Prometheus, and Malcolm would have to make a convincing show of fighting his own men. Boyd would be on hand to watch for any sign of treachery. If Malcolm showed even the slightest hesitation to kill his own people, the man would notice.

The Lewis coast passed on his left as the merchantman made her way north. Noah was over there somewhere. Malcolm could jump overboard right now, swim to shore, and meet up with the trawler. He and Noah could head out for America where Malcolm could disappear until Boyd Gunn died and everybody forgot Malcolm Gunn ever existed. That thought tempted him beyond endurance.

An almighty impact struck Malcolm’s shoulder. He whipped around to find Boyd standing at his side.

Boyd cast a benign smile his way. “Why so despondent, lad? What’s amiss?”

Malcolm turned his face into the breeze and closed his eyes. “Naught’s amiss unless ye count going into battle with a lassie on board. It’s no’ exactly gentlemanly.”

Boyd gazed out over the ocean. “Ye’ve taken an appreciable concern over that lassie. If I didnae ken otherwise, I’d be forced to conclude ye fancy her. I havenae seen ye so worked up over a lass since I’ve kenned ye.”

“I’m no’ worked up over her,” Malcolm snarled. “If anything, it’s ye that’s appreciably concerned over her, but since I ken that’s no’ possible, I have no choice but to conclude ye’re playing her for all she’s worth. Ye ought to be ashamed of yerself, lad. Ye’re a coldhearted schemer, and the worst part is, she’s completely taken in by ye. She thinks ye’re a kindly, caring soul that’s taken her in to help her.”

Boyd’s eyes twinkled as he bit back a smile. “And I suppose ye’ve seen fit to relieve her of that misconception, have ye no’?”

“Of course I have,” he replied. “I cannae let her continue to swoon over ye the way she has. She had to ken her own place on this mission.”

Boyd shook his head and chuckled. “In all the years I’ve kenned ye, ye’ve never changed. Ye’re too idealistic for this job, and that’s why ye’ll never be Guild Master.”

“Who wants to be Guild Master?” Malcolm fired back. “If it means yanking lassies around by their heartstrings to get what ye want out of them, then I’ll leave the job to ye.”

“Aye,” Boyd murmured. “Ye will.”

“What do ye mean to do with her?” Malcolm asked. “Do ye mean to bring her out on deck in the middle of the battle and see if they balk at the sight of her? Is that how ye mean to determine if they ken who she is? Is that yer plan?”

Boyd cocked his head, and his eyes hardened. “Ye’d have naught to say about it if it was. What will ye do if I decide to do just that? Will ye hie on down to the cabin and tell her what I just said? Will ye jump into the battle and tear her away from me? Is that what ye want to hear?”

Malcolm spun away to hide his burning cheeks. He was treading a fine line between betraying Boyd and doing what he knew was right. He would never let Boyd put Vic in harm’s way, and they both knew it. What other reason could Boyd have for bringing Vic out here? He believed Vic belonged to the Lewises and had set out to prove it. He intended to use her as a bargaining chip against them.

Boyd patted him on the shoulder again. “Perhaps ye should stay in the cabin during the battle too.” He walked away, and his shoes thumped on the deck, receding out of earshot.

Malcolm closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against this whole horrible situation. Who would he encounter on board the Prometheus? Would he have to fight Ned? Would he have to kill some Angui to keep his place in the Falisa?

No! He wouldn’t do that. He didn’t care what he had to do. He would throw himself overboard first. If he turned against the Falisa, he could still live the rest of his life among his brothers. He wouldn’t kill his own kind just to maintain a pretense.

A shout echoed across the waves. Malcolm whirled around, searching the deck, and then looked up. A man in the crow’s nest leaned out and pointed east. Within seconds, pounding footsteps vibrated all over the deck.

The captain leaped up the steps to the poop deck and bellowed orders to everyone. “Come about and shorten sail to intercept her. Gunnery teams into position and load, ready to fire on my command. Mr. Warren, take the wheel for tactical maneuvers.”

Boyd strode up the steps to take his place next to the captain. Malcolm stayed where he was, his eyes trained to the east on another ship floating there on the smooth blue ripple. Her sails bulged with the wind. The Prometheus headed northwest to skirt around Lewis for the open Atlantic beyond, making a run to America.

Malcolm’s pulse quickened at the sight of her. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be on board that ship with his brothers right now, with the wide ocean spread out before them. As the merchantman drew nearer, he saw tiny sailors rushing over the galleon’s deck. They scurried up and down the masts and put on more sail but couldn’t outrun the merchantman.

Boyd stood frozen in place, his glittering eyes fixed on the Prometheus falling into his clutches and a twisted smile curving up his lips. The captain paced back and forth while his men rushed hither and thither.

Malcolm steeled his resolve for what he had to do. He had to fight. That was inevitable, but he would rather let one of his friends kill him than harm a hair on their heads. Anything would be better than living this double life century after century.

The merchantman angled north to pull up alongside her prey. The gunnery teams flew around their cannons in a blur. Closer they came, and Malcolm recognized the man on the deck of the Prometheus. Ned waved his saber in the air and his voice floated on the wind to the merchantman, but Malcolm couldn’t make out the words.

The faces of his comrades flashed before his eyes. He beheld the features of every man he knew on board the Prometheus. He’d faced the Lewises in battle before, when he’d fought for the Gunns, but never with Boyd watching. When Malcolm was in command, he could do what he wanted and never had to worry about anybody questioning his loyalty. He couldn’t be sure if Boyd questioned his loyalty or not, and he didn’t intend to find out. His fingers tightened on his saber grip, and he checked his dirk at his belt.

British soldiers poured on deck from below and lined up in red rows near the rail, ready to board the galleon.

Malcolm took his place next to the ranks when Boyd called down to him, “Ye remain on board, Malcolm. Ye defend the companionway in case they overrun us.”

Malcolm raised his eyes to Boyd’s face. Did he hear right? Defend the companionway? That meant Vic. He backed up to the steps and took his position, drawing his saber. He couldn’t steady his heart rate, his breath stuck in his throat, and cold sweat trickled down his spine.

The captain gave one last shout. Mr. Warren tugged the wheel hard to port. The Revenge veered a few inches west, and the two vessels came alongside barely feet apart. Every battery of cannon on both ships opened up at once, and a deafening boom thundered across the waves.

The Prometheus shuddered down her sides, and the merchantman lurched back. Malcolm teetered into the bulkhead as the batteries reloaded and let rip another catastrophic barrage of cannon fire. Back and forth it went until Malcolm lost awareness of who was firing when. The soldiers rushed the ship’s rail and threw grappling hooks at the Prometheus, hauling her in close. Then all the Redcoats flooded over the rail at once.

Malcolm couldn’t see or hear anything above the din. Screams and yells and the metallic sound of swordplay tangled in a confused soup of noise and pandemonium. Gunsmoke obscured his sight through the hatch. He took a step forward to see what was going on as a gust of wind billowed through the smoke. Malcolm’s blood ran cold when he caught a clear view of the battle raging on the Prometheus. Redcoats and pirates fought hand to hand all over the ship. The soldiers fired their muskets and stabbed with their bayonets. The pirates responded with sabers and pistols. Malcolm spotted Ned wrestling with his fingers clasped around Boyd’s throat. Malcolm’s nerves screamed to intervene, but he dared not leave his post. He couldn’t leave Vic unguarded in this mayhem.

Sure enough, in front of his eyes, the tide of battle shifted. Ned hurled Boyd off him, slamming him back against the main mast, and then launched to his feet. He swung his saber over his head and roared to his comrades. Ned and several dozen pirates broke free from the Redcoats and turned their sights on the Revenge. They flooded over the rail to take the enemy ship. Malcolm’s heart plunged into his boots. He knew he had to fake attacking his comrades to keep up the ruse. That meant he might have to slash an arm or two or break a nose or even have his own nose broken. It was something he’d always dreaded. But it had to be done or his cover would be threatened.

Another cloud of smoke obliterated the scene, but Malcolm had seen enough. He retreated into the companionway and prepared to fake his last stand.

He couldn’t appreciate the irony with Ned, Gilias, and five others scrambling over the rail onto the merchantman. First, they set to work attacking the gunnery crews. The gunners tried to snatch up their weapons, but the pirates hacked their way through them until no one remained to man the guns.

More pirates disengaged with the Redcoats to leave the Prometheus. They poured onto the Revenge and dove down below to disable the rest of the cannons. Then, to Malcolm’s horror, Ned and Gilias both turned around and fixed their beady, smoldering eyes on his position. He’d have to “fight” them after all.

He braced himself in the companionway, brandishing his saber in one hand and his dirk in the other. He had to go down swinging. He had to make a good show of it so no one knew the truth.