A Pirate's Wife for Me (44 page)

As they got to the top, they slowed and peeked outside.

There, high on the fortress's ramparts with the wind blowing, Lich and Sheffer were laughing, although Cate was unsure which one was which. A dark-skinned fellow with white hair poured gunpowder into the muzzle, placed a patch at the end of the ram and drove it home, then with a grunt lifted a heavy iron ball and rolled it inside.

Another man with the bright red hair stood back, holding the fiery torch, and he shouted, "Ram it again, Lich, to make sure it's seated!"

Sheffer. He was Sheffer.

"When I ram 'em, they know they've been rammed!" The two men guffawed, and Lich applied the ram again.

Cate stepped back. "We cannot stop two determined mercenaries with a pistol and a stick."

Jeannette lifted her pistol, and her eyes snapped. "We can if we aim well."

Cate put her hand on Jeannette's wrist. "We need a ruse. We can scream and pretend the invaders have taken the fortress, and when the mercenaries run downstairs, we can lock them out."

"I like that. You are clever! No wonder the prince sent you. Your scheme needs only a little modification." Jeannette took down her hair and mussed it. She unbuttoned her high collar and the bodice of her dress until the lace of her chemise was showing. With her hands, she plumped her breasts. "Now. When I have their attention, you run behind the door and wait. When they dash into the citadel, slam the door shut and we'll barricade it against their return." Without waiting for Cate's agreement, Jeannette sprinted out into the sunshine, tossed her hair, threw her shoulders back, breathed deeply, and screamed, "They're taken the fortress! They've taken the fortress!"

The two men froze, staring in bug-eyed amazement.

"Who the hell is she?" Sheffer asked.

Lich shook his head and cupped his two hands in front of his chest in blatant admiration.

Cate stared, too, impressed with Jeannette's masterful impression of a maiden in distress. Then she remembered her role, and scuttled around and behind the door. At once she realized the glitch in their plan; back here, there was no iron rod, no heavy timber. No way to bar the door.

Jeannette glanced back. She met Cate's gaze.

Cate indicated her own empty palms.

Jeannette showed a remarkable ability to think on her feet; she raced to the edge of the wall high over the ocean. She looked down, down to the bottom of the fortress, down to the base of the cliff where the ocean waves battered the rocks. She pointed. She shrieked, "Oh, no!"

For no reason except that her acting ability was so persuasive, Lich ran to her side and also leaned over to look.

She put her hand in the middle of his back, grabbed his ankle and while he flailed wildly, she tipped him over the wall and into the ocean.

Cate could scarcely contain her shout of admiration.

Jeannette faced the other man, lifted her pistol and pointed it in his face. "Jump!"

Sheffer stood there. He edged closer to the precipice. He leaned over and looked. He looked back at her. "I could die!"
"Jump hard. Jump far."

"You're crazy!"

She cocked the pistol. "Yes."

Something about her — the way she stood, the way she stared, her blossoming smile — convinced him.

He dropped the torch and jumped.

Jeannette leaned out, craned her neck, and looked. "They're both in the water, swimming for the rocks."

Cate strolled over and looked. She applauded softly. "Masterful!" And inventive and quick-thinking.

It wasn't fair. Why, why did Taran’s betrothed have to be beautiful
and
clever?

"I wish one of them had resisted. After these last months in prison, I have quite
longed
to shoot a mercenary." Jeannette placed the pistol on the wall, looked at the cannon and rubbed her hands. "Instead, I will sink a foreign sailing ship. How are you at judging distance and angle?"

Cate looked out to sea.

The small, swift Portuguese ship was well-armed with cannon and packed with sailors shooting rifles at Cate's pirates. On the bridge, a rotund, well-decorated officer shouted orders.

Cate itched to take him out.
Buy Cenorina, indeed.
"I've never shot a cannon before, but I can pick a squirrel off a branch with a slingshot."

"Good enough." Jeannette picked up the still-burning torch and handed it to Cate. "Instruct me. When I have the right angle, light the fuse."

"Up a little. A little more. No, too much." Cate eyed the muzzle, the ships, tried to calculate how far the blast of gunpowder would send the shot.

Jeannette strained as she maneuvered the screw mechanism that moved the heavy barrel up and down.

The gun carriage creaked and groaned as Jeannette used her iron rod to change the direction of fire.

And all the time, out on the bay, the combat raged.

From the town below, Cate heard shots and the ever-increasing yells of men and women.

"We've got to hurry!" Jeannette said.

"If I get this wrong I could shoot the wrong — there!" Cate held her hand in a stop gesture. "Right there!"

Jeannette stepped back.

Cate lit the fuse. They covered their ears, and watched in hope and terror as the fuse burned down.

For an interminable moment, nothing happened. Then … the cannon roared. Smoke billowed. The iron ball blasted from the barrel.

Cate stumbled as she ran to the edge of the low wall that surrounded the battlements. The breeze blew the smoke away, and she watched the cannonball rise through the air in a graceful arc, over the sea, toward the Portuguese ship.

"It's too high." Jeannette slapped the stone beneath her hands. "We aimed too high!"

They had overshot the Portuguese; the cannonball was headed for the pirate ship.

Cate had sunk her own dear pirates!

With a crack, the iron ball hit the fores'l mast of the Portuguese vessel and sheared it off. Splinters flew as the broken mast fell straight down, penetrating the deck, then slowly, like a falling tree, fell gracefully over the rail dragging its sails and rigging with it. The ship halted, quivering in the water like a rabbit confronting the hounds.

Taran’s men immediately seized the advantage; they brought the Scottish Witch smartly about and returned to rake the foundering Portuguese ship with a broadside. Doing a swift turnabout, they raked it again.

That was enough. The Portuguese ship began to tilt and take on water.

The Portuguese sailors were jumping and swimming for shore.

Across the waves, Cate heard her pirates cheer. "Good lads!" she shouted, although of course they could not hear her or even see her as more than a speck so far up in the fortress.

The Scottish Witch turned toward Arianna's pier.

Jeannette caught Cate in her arms and hugged her. "We did it.
You
did it."

So Jeannette was nice, too, taking credit when they thought they had failed and giving credit to Cate when they realized they had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.

Cate should be glad for Taran. His mother had found him a brave, beautiful, smart and kind mate. How great for him. With a healthy helping of sarcasm, Cate said, "When we see the pirates, we shall tell them that was exactly what we planned."

Jeannette laughed. "We shall!"

The noise of the battle in town below intensified.

Cate and Jeannette hurried around the corner of the ramparts to look.

Arianna's streets writhed with soldiers, mercenaries, citizens of the town. Cate's pirates landed on the dock. While a contingent secured the ship, the rest leaped off and met a charge led by the massive mercenary leader himself.

From the fortress, Cate screamed instructions.

Jeannette screamed warnings.

Carrying knives and swords, the soaked Portuguese sailors ran up from the beach and joined the fray on the side of the mercenaries.

Servants and gardeners from Giraud, armed with pitchforks, rakes, clubs and knives, fought the surprised, affronted and now desperate mercenaries.

But Cate couldn't see Taran.

She couldn't see Sir Maddox Davies, either.

But mostly, she couldn't see Taran. Where is he? He had survived … hadn't he? He had prevailed against Sir Davies, had he not?

Her heart started a slow, steady, anguished thumping. Her ears buzzed and her vision blurred.

Dear God, he can marry Jeannette, I won't mind, as long as he is alive.

She must have been speaking aloud, for Jeannette asked, "Why would he marry me?"

Dear God, I'll go back to Scotland and live a quiet, chaste life if that is what you require, as long as Taran is alive. Dear God —

"No fears," Jeannette said urgently. "There he is!" She pointed at a vicious battle in the middle of the square.

Taran burst out of the crowd, leaped up onto a wagon, and took out a mercenary with a swing of his sword. He looked up at the fortress, spotted them, and even from such a distance, they could see his beaming smile. He lifted his sword in salute.

And behind him, Lilbit burst from the crowd. He aimed a pistol at Taran’s back.

Cate screamed and pointed.

Taran swung to face Lilbit.

A gout of flame and smoke blasted from the pistol barrel.

Taran fell to the side, into the crowd, and disappeared from sight.

Lilbit fell back and was gone.

The battle raged on.

In an agony of grief and shock, Cate stared. He was dead. Taran was dead. The man she loved had forever vanished from this earth. His laughter, his determination, the pain of his past and his plans for the future … gone. He was gone.

And she was alone. Forever.

Hard and fast, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Cate opened her eyes and realized …
heaven was a large, strange bedroom with a comfortable bed covered in clean, fragrant sheets and piled with feather pillows. And glowing with sunshine. Lots of sunshine illuminating a sky blue ceiling painted with clouds and fat, naked cherubs.

She wouldn't have thought heaven would have to paint the sky or the clouds or their cherubs. Shouldn't the cherubs be there in person, playing zithers and hiking up the scraps of cloth that covered their nether regions?

Off to the side, someone said softly, "She's awake, sire."

Footsteps sounded. Cate turned her head.

Taran stood beside the bed. But not the Taran she'd come to know. This Taran wore a gentleman's attire. He looked good, although she hadn't realized men wore suits and cravats with diamond stickpins in heaven.

He leaned over and smoothed her hair, and she thought his hand trembled. "My darling, you scared me half to death."

Obviously, she was dead. Ergo, he was dead, too. He had not survived Lilbit's shot. Of course not. How could he?

Her eyes filled with tears.

He deserved to live, to bring his beloved Cenorina back to health, to enjoy the fruits of his labors.

"Are you in pain?" As if he had done it many times before, he eased his arm beneath her shoulder and held a glass of water to her lips. "Drink."

She drank, tentatively at first, then eagerly. "That's good."

He pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed. "Her fever is gone," he told someone. "She is better."

Cate glanced around, trying to see to whom he spoke, but that person stood just out of her range of vision.

Or else … Taran was talking to a spirit. That was it! Her brother was dead, too. Taran was talking to Kiernan. She asked, "Can I see Kiernan?"

Taran lowered her back onto the pillows and frowned into her face. "Kiernan?"

"He has to be around her
somewhere
."

"Why are you…? How did you…?" Taran swallowed. "No, he's not here right now."

"Then where am I?" Maybe … she'd gone to hell.

But that wouldn't be fair. Not to her, and not to Taran.

Taran took her hand and stroked her fingers, over and over, as if he needed to touch her. "You are at Giraud in the master's bedroom, exactly where you should be."

It took her long minutes to assimilate that information. "At Giraud? How is that possible?" She tried to put the facts together. "Are we
alive?"

"Very much alive. Look." He pointed to his bruised, gashed face. "When you broke my nose, you gave me two black eyes."

"Served you right," she mumbled, and touched his face with her fingertips. He needed a shave. Were men unshaven in heaven? Or hell? Yet his skin was neither cold, like a corpse, nor hot like a man tormented by fire, but warm … perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps they were at Giraud. "How nice. "

Once again, he slid his arm around her shoulders and lifted her. Looking nowhere but at her, he held out his hand; it came back holding a cup. "Drink some broth, Cate, then you can sleep."