A Pirate's Wife for Me (42 page)

Revenge. The boy wanted revenge.

Maddox babbled. "I'm sorry. The sword fight. The mess I've made of your father's study. The pirates."

"My mother?" Taran suggested.

"Yes! Your mother. In the tower. Dreadful place. I never meant to cause trouble."

"The betrayal?"

"Awful betrayal. Dreadful. Very bad form." Maddox watched Taran fearfully.

Taran laughed out loud.

That mercenary needed to try harder. Slam the door harder. Shoot off the lock.
Get me out of here.

Oh, God. Oh, no. Taran looked almost sympathetic as he pulled the king's seal out of the flame.

Maddox grabbed for the feeble shreds of his courage. He needed to remember — he was not done yet. By God, his spirit had not been broken by this fight. He was strong and resolute. He could yet win his freedom and escape with at least some of his fortune intact. That was what mattered. No matter how scarred and slashed and beaten Maddox might be, if he had his money, no one would dare mock or hurt him. He was secure.

Outside, the mercenary shouted worthless commands and Spanish swear words. Over and over, the door rocked and swayed.

The point of the sword pricked Maddox's throat. Taran leaned down and looked into Maddox's eyes. He spoke with clear intensity. "I wouldn't move if I were you."

He extended the heated seal. The gold glowed; the air around the metal wavered with heat. Closer and closer it came, moving deliberately toward Maddox's eyes; he could see nothing else but that golden disc, so small, so hot, so deadly.

He gave up all pretense of courage; he shrieked pleas and begged in moans.

Taran no longer gave the impression of pleasure; instead he was intense, focused, determined.

He applied the seal to Maddox's forehead.

Flesh sizzled. All of existence narrowed to one single point of anguish.

Outside in the entry, the mercenary threw himself at the door over and over, and at last — at last! — he burst in.

Taran looked up. In that insouciant tone that made Maddox hate him even more, he said, "That took you long enough."

At once, Maddox realized several things.

Taran no longer held the seal to his forehead or the sword to his throat.

And Fortunato couldn't rescue Maddox. The stupid mercenary held only a club for a weapon.

But Maddox could turn the tables. He could even now impale Taran.

He used his good hand to grope for the hilt of his épée. He grasped it, lifted it … it felt different. Lighter … he gave an appalled shriek. His blade of Toledo steel, the blade he had had specially made for him — had been snapped in half.

He should be enraged.

He was petrified.

Taran met his eyes. The boy's smile had returned. "Revenge," he said, "tastes sweet." Then he used Maddox's chest as a launch to leap toward the mercenary.

Ribs cracked. Maddox gasped and choked. And rolled. And stood.

And while Taran fought the mercenary into a corner, Maddox ran out the broken door. He raced past Signor Marino, past a gauntlet of grinning servants.

They jeered.

Something struck his back. Something hard. Something that broke.

The smell of rotten egg filled the air.

Something splattered against his cheek. He wiped it off. It was red; a moldy tomato. A handful of decayed berries sprayed his shirt.

The servants. They were throwing things … at him! At their master!

It almost seemed as if that realization brought a hail of flying projectiles.

He raced toward the entrance.

One of the footmen smoothly opened the door.

Maddox sprinted outside, down the steps — and a formation of gardeners.

Those peasants didn't waste time with rotting compost. They used stones. They used fresh manure from the cows and the kennels. By the time Maddox stumbled to the end of the long driveway, he ached and wept, and smelled as bad as he had the time his schoolmates had locked him in the privy.

Then the road stretched out before him. He turned away from Arianna. He had to reach his secret cove. There he had cash, bank information, gold, and an escape plan. He would signal the fishing boat. They would come and take him to Gibraltar. There he would be safe.

Safe from Taran.

Maddox's heart pounded in his chest. Again and again, in terror, he glanced back at the house.

Taran intended to kill him. Chase him down. Slaughter him like a peasant.

Would that big, dumb mercenary keep Taran occupied long enough for Maddox to flee this cursed land of Cenorina?

His feet pounded on the gravel. He stepped into a rut, fell, tore the knees out of his trousers, scraped the skin on his palms, and his shoulder … oh, God. His dislocated shoulder! Bleeding, stinking and in agony, he got up and ran again.

At last he had to slow. Gasping, he turned, walked backward and looked. And realized … he had escaped! Escaped. The road was empty.

His arm hung useless at his side.

His bloody wounds and the filth that covered him attracted flies.

The king's seal blistered his forehead.

But he was safe. Safe. All he had to do was cross the mountain and reach his private cove.

No one would find him now.

Wahkan slipped along the edge of the road. He held a rifle in one hand. He kept out of sight of Davies's limping, staggering figure, but he never lost him from view.

Because … Maddox Davies had destroyed the land Wahkan had come to love.

Maddox Davies had wrecked the stables Wahkan had worked so hard to build.

Maddox Davies had harmed the royal family Wahkan served.

Maddox Davies's life was about to take a ghastly turn.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Cate galloped along the outskirts
of Arianna, high over the harbor. In the streets below her, the townspeople were stirring, gathering, pointing at the beacon on Trueno Ridge. She saw people disappear, then reappear with weapons. She watched as they grew from a few to a mob. Carried on the breeze, she heard their shouts of defiance. When they turned toward Sir Maddox Davies's warehouses, she whispered, "Take everything."

Over and over, she glanced toward the harbor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Scottish Witch sailing across the ocean toward the harbor.

She saw no sign of the ship and the pirates who would save them. Were they negotiating the winding channel? Would they appear in time to give Taran the warriors he needed to take Cenorina?

When she and Narragansett reached the winding path that led up to the fortress, the horse truly showed his breeding. Along the places where the trail had sloughed off, he picking his way through the rubble with grace and as much speed as he dared.

At last they reached the top. She slid from the saddle; when her feet hit the ground, the jolt reverberated all the way up to her wounded arm.

She had never been a good patient. But she had never been such a weakling before, either. Perhaps she had simply lost too much blood. Or perhaps she enjoyed the
idea
of being a heroine better than the responsibilities attached to the role. She wrapped her fingers around Narragansett's bridle, placed her other hand on his neck, and confessed, "I am a chicken heart."

He rolled his eyes.

"I know. It's a little late for that."

He dragged her by the bridle toward the fortress.

"You don't want to go there," she told him, and slipped the bit out of his mouth. "Thank you for carrying me so far. Now you should go home."

He tossed his head contemptuously, turned and made his way down the slope again. Before he disappeared around the bend, he turned his head and looked at her, and inclined his head.

"Have a care!" she said, but she had no doubt he could care for himself.

Straightening her bodice, she walked around to the tall, wide and grim door, lifted the heavy iron knocker and let it drop.

The sound echoed in the vast hollow of the fortress.

As she waited for someone to answer, she looked up. And up. And up. The fortress's stack of forbidding gray stone rose thirty feet in the air, ending in a crenellated wall where the black cannons aimed toward the town and, she knew, out to sea. Above that, the tower rose another twenty feet.

And she had to rescue the lady who lived at the top.

Desperately, Cate glanced out to sea, and her heart leaped with joy.

There. There! A ship was sailing toward the mouth of the harbor. The pirates had arrived! But that left her little time to flush out the mercenaries.

Hastily she pressed her hand to the blood-soaked bandage and smeared her face with red.

The peephole in the door opened, and a man's broad, dark, mashed face looked at her in surprise. "What do you want?" he bellowed.

"The beacon is lit. The pirates are attacking!"

He stared at her as if she was impaired. "So?"

Greed. She needed to appeal to their greed. "The people broke into Sir Davies's storehouse! They're carrying off gold and jewels. He'll never be able to recover all the wealth, and he'll never know what happened to it."

His eyes kindled with interest.

"You must help!" she said.

He shut the window. Just shut it, leaving her standing there.

She stared at the impregnable door. What was she going to do if they didn't take the bait? She would never get the future princess out of prison, the girl would be held for ransom, and Cate would have broken her promise to Taran.

Cate's wound throbbed in time with her panicked heartbeat.

Then the great door creaked open.

Two dozen mercenaries, armed to the teeth, strolled out. They were big, burly men with ham-sized fists and hulking shoulders. They grinned when they saw her and one man, the captain, stopped and chucked her under the chin. "Stay close, little one, and when I return, I'll share my wealth."

He stood half a foot taller than she did.

Nobody
, not even her Taran, not even her brother before his death, stood half a foot taller than she did.

She hoped the townspeople, and the pirates, lived through their encounters with him.

He yelled back into the fortress, "Lich! Sheffer! Go up to the parapet. Man the cannon. Sink the pirate ship!"

From inside the fortress, she heard two enthusiastic voices yell, "Yes, sir! That we will!"

From the dim interior, another man roared, "To hell with you, Captain! I'm not staying here while you go to steal a fortune!"

The man with the mashed face shouted back, "We can't take you, Volker. There might be unarmed women down there who will beat you up!"

Cate's heart sank. They were leaving Volker. They were taunting Volker about his encounter with her. And she had to get past him to rescue the lady.

She had no choice. So she smiled and rippled her fingers at the captain. "Later."

She
really
hoped there would be no later. She intended that today Taran should win every battle, kill every enemy, take every prisoner. Even if he intended that she rescue the woman who would take Cate's place at his side and in his bed, she wanted him to live, to flourish, to be king of this land. She wanted this because through all the pain, the effort, the drama, she thought of him first. She acted for his good.

Damn him, she was a fool in love.

And damn him, he had better have defeated Sir Davies, for the only alternative was … his death …

One pained breath followed another. Then she slipped inside the gloomy fortress.

"Volker, we're leaving you a tasty morsel," Mashed Face shouted. "Try not to let her hurt you!"

The mercenaries rumbled with laughter as they headed down the path toward the tumultuous town. The last one out slammed the door; it sounded like the roll of doom. Cate blinked, trying to get her bearings.

The chamber was huge, tall and filled with shadows. Candles flickered on a table scattered with playing cards. Soot streaked the rock walls. And like a stain on the darkness, Volker stood, his mean blue eyes fixed on her. "You!"

But he posed no problem, because she had her hand inside in her reticule on the grip of Signor Marino's loaded pistol.

Except, as Blowfish surmised and Taran knew, she couldn't kill anything. Not in cold blood. Not if she wished to retain her sanity.

If she killed this man, she would be guilty for the rest of her life.

If she didn't save the princess, she would regret it forever.

So she tried a tactic with which she had little experience: tact. "Sir Volker, I came to beg your pardon for pushing you out the window. That was wrong of me."

He paid no heed to her words. "Do you know how the men have goaded me? Mocked me?" He lumbered toward her. "Do you realize the humiliation you put me through?"