My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) (23 page)

Anne bowed to him. “Oliver, I shall enjoy killing you.” She then backed away to give herself room to maneuver. He pressed his lips together, a grim line that indicated he prepared to win, and rushed at her, his blade coming down above her.

She reacted in time to raise the cutlass above her head, the clang of the blades echoing on the air. The force of that first blow shook her arm all the way up her shoulder.

Chapter 25

Hard work kept his mind from despairing over the moment Anne overheard his conversation with Cormac, and her answer to his plea for her to return to him.

Throughout the voyage, Addison and Raphael passed the time joining the crew and swabbing decks, repairing sails, and all things men accomplished upon a ship . . . even a pirate ship.

He’d found it rather amusing he’d once envisioned himself as a gentleman pirate. Truth be told, the life upon a pirate vessel so far had been nearly identical to that on one of his merchant vessels. No, his ships had no cannon. But, knowing how quickly the
Royal Fortune
sliced through the ocean, while having a full hold plus twenty guns, he’d consider outfitting his ships with cannon. Besides, one never knew when one would come upon a pirate vessel.

The captain allowed him and Raphael the other substantial cabin aboard his ship, and they’d been handed a mattress to throw upon the floor to accommodate them both. They’d been given every courtesy, a meal in the captain’s quarters every evening, and plenty of camaraderie from the most well-dressed pirate crew Addison had heard of. While he’d only heard tales of the behavior of pirates, he’d not personally encountered any in the few years he’d been sailing between England and Charles Town.

Pirates were known to be filthy, uncouth men, who rarely brushed their hair, wore sailor’s garb riddled with holes, and held no qualms with slicing a throat from ear to ear without so much as a by-your-leave.

Glancing up at the captain standing at the helm, Addison grinned at the comparison. Roberts—the singular name as the captain introduced himself upon a proper introduction during the first leg of their voyage—had a gleam in his eye that clearly said not to cross him. But, Addison knew they would become fast friends. He was a good sort, and his men respected him a great deal.

The captain wore quite fashionable clothing for a pirate, as well as his crew; always with a billowy, dark shirt, dark breeches, hose, and boots. There were rings, bracelets, necklaces, and earrings adorning him. Roberts’ long, black hair was always neatly pulled back into a bright colored ribbon. Today’s ribbon happened to be a shade of orange that reminded him of Anne’s sunset hair.

Thinking of her had the effect it did on him every moment of every day—an ache where his heart thudded against his ribs.

The tavern lad had said Anne embarked perhaps four to five hours before their arrival in the
Hound and the Hare
. The
Royal Fortune
set sail not long after. But, a sudden storm on their first morning had blown them off course, or so Roberts had informed him after the storm subsided. He’d been assured that the speed of the ship would make up the distance in no time, and they’d reach the
Swallow
before she neared Jamaica.

Addison was relieved to hear it, but what they would do prior to reaching port, he had no idea. Roberts had mentioned his score to settle with Dobison. The captain seemed a decent sort, even reminded Addison of his older brother, Lucien.

A call from the crow’s nest pulled him from musings.

“Ship ahead, captain. Ship ahead.”

Addison’s heart lurched, but he strode to the helm to stand beside Roberts as they looked out to the horizon. Sure enough, a ship floated in the distance. Not close enough to see anyone on board or any activity, but she was there.

“When we will know if she’s the one, Roberts?”

Roberts kept his eyes trained on their quarry, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Aye, that’s the
Swallow
. I know her build. I’ve had the privilege of encountering her a few times.”

“Excellent.” Addison clapped him on the back. “This may be the fastest, most competent vessel I’ve had the pleasure to sail, Roberts. My thanks for your help.”

“She’s gotten me out of a few binds, so to speak.” A wry smile curved his lips.

Addison chuckled. “I have no doubt.” He mirrored Roberts’ stance, and watched the
Swallow
in the distance, hoping the time would pass in a faster manner. “What is the plan, then? Do we get near them, hail them? Take the long boats over?”

“Something like that.” A smile in the man’s voice made the hair on the back of Addison’s neck prickle. He nodded over to the ship. “We’ll be on her in about an hour. Let’s take a quick meal and reconvene here after.”

Addison tipped his head. “Sounds reasonable. I’ll get my man and we’ll meet you here shortly.”

Raphael worked diligently, bare-chested and sweating, hauling cannon balls in neat piles near the cannons on the port side of the ship. Addison raised a brow at the activity. Shrugging, he approached Raphael and invited the bodyguard to take a meal with him, and to inform him of their closeness to Anne. The older man’s turquoise eyes narrowed, glittering with what Addison would guess was anger.

By all accounts, Anne’s bodyguard could not speak, having no tongue, but his eyes were expressive. No doubt, he felt angry at having his mistress slip through his fingers. By the determination in his steady gaze, he knew Raphael would do anything to make sure she was returned to her rightful, safe place.

That was exactly what Addison was thinking. Her rightful place was at Cranford Hall. Beside him. With him.

They wolfed down the fare in silence, Addison used to the man’s unnatural quiet. He spent the rest of the time washing off as much of the grime from the days’ work as possible, changing into one of Roberts’ billowy shirts. He returned to the deck to a curious-eyed Raphael.

“What? Roberts isn’t the only fellow who can pull off the pirate-look.” Addison held back a grin, and the older man’s lips twitched.

“We’ll be upon her in one mile, mate.” Roberts’ deep voice called as he joined the captain at the helm. He held a spyglass to one eye. “And, judging by this, we’ll need to have a proper discussion.”

Addison frowned, peering out to the vessel. From this distance, he could make out men running about the deck, perhaps a few in the rigging, but nothing of substance stood out of the ordinary.

“Judging by what? What do you see?” He strained to look again. Not seeing anything of note without a spyglass, he turned to glare at Roberts. “We haven’t discussed your outstanding issue with Dobison. You aren’t going to settle your differences peacefully, I take it.”

Roberts moved the spyglass away, meeting his eyes, anger on his face. “The issue I have to settle with Dobison is one of grave matter. He had many of my crew murdered, and sank one of my prime ships.”

“That is a very grave matter, indeed. My condolences, Roberts.” Thinking of Anne, he had no idea why she would leave with such a man. “Were you engaged in battle?”

“Actually, no. It happened over a year ago. Two of my ships were in Jamaica. Half the crew had gone to land, enjoying the spoils of our most recent—adventure.” He smiled at the memory, showing straight, white teeth. “I’d remained onboard the
Royal Fortune
with some of my crew, as I’m not much for the hovels pirates frequent for the most part. However, Dobison and his captain at the time, Barnet, were tearing through town, capturing any man unlucky enough to look like a pirate. They were actually looking for Calico Jack, and they did eventually find his ship. But, in their quest, they murdered several of my crew. Not until some of my men had avoided capture and returned did I know how many had been cut down. Then, Barnet had instructed Dobison to sink any vessels in the vicinity.”

“I’d heard of Calico Jack. He, and several others, made a habit of terrorizing the Carolina coastline for some time. Even Blackbeard paid a visit to Charles Town. So, this Barnet, and Dobison, just found it their duty to cut down any and all crewmembers regardless of guilt. Sounds honorable.”

Roberts nodded at his sarcasm.

“Barnet was not leaving without removing as many pirates as he could. He was being paid a great sum. He scored Rackham, and two female pirates in the process. He was quite the success that evening.”

He raised his spyglass again, his jaw clenching in frustration. “You’ve spoken of Anne and why you must speak to her.”

“Yes. She is . . . was to be my wife. Her children are to be raised in my home, given my protection. I was approached by her uncle to provide her safety from her past. Although, he’d never said anything about that in particular. But, I’d needed the land he offered, as well as the large sum of money he agreed to pay upon my agreement to marry her.”

Roberts flinched slightly still gazing through the glass, sighing. “But, you love her.”

He’d not mentioned anything of his feelings for Anne in his discussions with Roberts, only that he felt she needed to be returned and fulfill the agreement.

The truth of the matter was, he
did
love her, and he didn’t need to deny the truth to Roberts. “Aye, I do love her. But, I don’t recall mentioning that fact to you.”

“When I overheard you looking for her in
The Hound and the Hare
, I have to admit I had an ulterior motive.”

“To get revenge against Dobison?”

“That, and to help an old friend. When I saw the expression on your face upon hearing of her departure, and the anguish in your voice in the street, well, I couldn’t quite leave well-enough alone.”

“An old friend, you say. Do you know William Cormac, then?”

“No.” He removed the spyglass, turning to meet Addison’s eyes. “Do you know many pirates, Lord Blackhurst?”

He shook his head. “Not really, no. I’ve heard tales of many. Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Henry Morgan, Stede Bonnet, Anne Bonny, Black Bart . . .” he shrugged.

“Black Bart?” Roberts grimaced and rolled his eyes heavenward.

“I know, hideous nick name. Poor chap, but from what I can tell, the name was given him for his dark looks. A Welshman too, so he comes by the—”
Blast and damn
. He’d been so wrapped up in Anne and finding her . . .

Roberts’ very dark brows arched high above his dark, Welsh eyes.

“Bloody hell. Black Bart?”

Roberts bowed in a chivalrous fashion.

Addison could not help the chuckle that erupted from him.

Black Bart shook his head. “That nickname. I’d as soon be called Henry the Eighth.” His dark hair fell about his temples, the wind knocking it from the ribbon.

Addison extended his hand. “Bart, please, call me Addison.”

The captain shook his proffered hand, winking, “It’s Bartholomew, Welsh pirate.”

Roberts reached inside the breast of his shirt and pulled out a slightly crumpled, folded sheaf of parchment, and handed it to him.

Addison grasped it, wondering what lie on the inside. “What is this?”

“Do you love her?”

“Aye, but what has this . . .”

He handed him the spyglass then, motioning to the approaching ship. “You’ll want to grab a sword before we board her. And, there will be cannon fire, but I swear to you I will not injure the ship enough to sink her. I need it to replace my fleet.”

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he fumbled with the glass, but looked at the parchment first.

The black ink on the crumpled parchment was familiar to him. He’d seen the same poster in a few establishments in Charles Town over the past months. His interest at the time was not on criminals; he’d ignored the drawing and the words upon it.

The woman’s face drawn on the parchment showed slightly full cheeks, but the facial shape was familiar. Wild hair flowed out from a large, manly hat set at a rakish angle to hide one eye. The description of a curvy-figured woman, with large, green eyes and red hair; the woman standing five foot, six inches in height, and most likely wearing a man’s hat, long breeches, vest, blouse, and boots, and wanted by the authorities.

The pirate, Anne Bonny.

The reward for her capture was substantial, and she was known to frequent wharf taverns with Jack Rackham and the like.

Addison heard of Anne Bonny, the temperamental redheaded pirate who dressed as a man . . . and fought as well as any man. She’d been captured and imprisoned, however.

He raised a questioning glance to Roberts. “You’re suggesting that my Anne is
the
Anne Bonny? The pirate?”

Admitting that Anne was the woman on the poster took him a moment. She displayed a fantastic temper, matched the description on the poster, and disappeared to Port Royal with a man who Roberts suggested had aided in the capture of Jack Rackham and two female pirates. Recalling her references to Tortuga and other pirate-infested areas, and recurring assurances that she was no lady, did lead one to think . . .

Roberts stared at him for a moment and motioned to the spyglass white-knuckled in Addison’s grip. “What I’m suggesting is that the woman I know as Anne Bonny is on that ship. If you find that she is indeed
your
Anne, then yes, that is what I’m suggesting.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid we must ready the cannon now. I trust you’ll be ready to go as soon as you have a look through that glass.”

Giving Roberts a doubtful glance, he turned back and raised the glass to his eye. The ship was indeed active with men rushing about the deck, but that was not what caught his eye.

Anne, wearing the sapphire-colored, disheveled, and torn gown in which he’d last seen her, with her fiery hair flying about her head, faced a man larger than himself.

“Good God.”

He held his breath, the air suddenly sucked from his lungs, as he watched her fight the giant with a sword, meeting him blow-for-blow.

Fear congealed in the pit of his stomach, and warred with the admiration for her obvious skill with a blade.

“Brace yourself, mate. I’m about to send the first volley.” Bartholomew warned him, his voice calling from what seemed like a great distance, so consumed was he on the scene playing out with sickening clarity in the spyglass.

The pirate Anne Bonny,
his
Anne, was fighting for her life—and he prayed they’d arrive in time to save her.