Raven Quest (20 page)

“How can you think of that now?” she asked, then yawned.

“I can't think of anything else when you're near.” His kiss lingered against her lips. When she yawned again, he chuckled. “Maybe I should let you get back to your nap while I see what food Ernest packed for us.”

She steered his mouth to hers. Desperation burned in his kiss as his arms tightened around her, telling her what he had not said. He worried each kiss might be the last they shared.

Ernest raced toward them. “They're on our trail, Cap'n. About a dozen men.”

Nathan pulled Rory into the jungle. Her chemise caught again and again on the briars that slapped her face. She ran as fast as she could.

A shot sounded. Rory heard a moan. She turned to see Ernest fall and not move. She cried, “Ernest!”

“C'mon!” Nathan yanked her to a run again.

Another shot buzzed past her to splinter into a tree trunk.

“Stop!” came a shout from behind them. “The next one will be in you!”

Nathan tugged her to a faster pace. “C'mon! They won't kill you, Rory!”

Out of the shadows of the trees, two men lunged. Rory was knocked from her feet. She fought wildly to escape. Then, the man was plucked from her, and she heard the dull sound of flesh striking flesh.

Nathan held out his hand to her. She started to rise, then screamed, “Look out! Behind you!”

He could not turn before Guillermo clubbed him with a pistol butt. He fell heavily to lie as still as Ernest.

“Nathan! No, not Nathan!” she cried as Guillermo bent over him. She hit Guillermo with her fists.

He shoved her away and said, “He's dead.”

Sixteen

Rory struggled to breathe as she stared at Nathan's motionless body. “No!” she whispered. “He can't be dead.”

Guillermo tried to pull her away. “I tell you. He's dead.”

Jabbing her elbow into his stomach, she pushed past him. Another man blocked her way. When she started to edge around him, he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” she shrieked. “Nathan!”

He carried her toward where his companions were coming through the trees. She tried to get free, but he gripped her feet too tightly for her to kick him. She pounded on his back, but he just laughed. She screamed again as he pulled her off his shoulder and tossed her through the air.

She was caught against a wide chest. She closed her eyes in defeat as she recognized Yellow Hal's triumphant laughter. With the
Vengeance
gone and Ernest and Nathan hurt or dead, she had no one but herself to depend on to get out of this. She knew that she alone could not do it—not if Nathan was dead.

She looked up into Yellow Hal's craggy face. In the moonlight, she could see the blood etched into his skin from the wounds left by the cannon shots from the
Vengeance.

He grinned at her. “Rory, my girl, welcome back.”

When she did not retort, his pale eyebrows came together in a frown. She closed her eyes, but she could not shut out the sight of Nathan on the ground. She wanted to cry, to free the pain that buffeted her. It clogged her throat, refusing to budge.

“Where is Lawler?” Yellow Hal shouted.

Guillermo pushed past Yellow Hal's men. “He's dead, Captain Warwick.”

“Dead?” His bellow filled the jungle. “I wanted to see him die!”

“It's too late for that, Captain. Both he and Dawes are dead. You have Rory. Isn't that enough?”

Yellow Hal returned his victorious smile to her. “Yes, it is quite enough.” His fingers under her legs moved along them in an eager caress.

When she flinched, she wondered why she cared what he did. It was over. Her hopes, her dreams, her life—all had died with Nathan.

“I want the
Raven
's gold, Rory,” Yellow Hal said. “Take me to it.”

“All right, Captain.”

“So easy tonight, my girl?” He could not hide his shock.

Rory was tempted to tell him why she wanted him to have her father's treasure. The gold had to be cursed, so many people had died trying to possess it. Her father and the crew of the
Raven,
Guillermo's father and his crew aboard
La Madre Maria,
the Blindman, Ernest and … Nathan! Her heart caught in midbeat. She did not want to believe he was dead.

Her father had told her to give his gold to those who deserved it. She could not imagine anyone more deserving of its curse than Yellow Hal, who had killed or hurt most of the people in her life.

“Go to the headwaters of the creek,” she said, staring back toward where Nathan was. “From there, I can show you how to find it.”

He set her on her feet. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands.
Father, I know you wanted to keep Yellow Hal from having this gold. I hope you understand why he
must
have it.
Her hands were jerked away from her face and bound with a long piece of rope.

“Captain Warwick,” Guillermo asked, “is it necessary to treat her so cruelly?” As he moved closer, she could see in the dim light that he had been struck by something on the beach, for blood oozed along his cheek. He put his hand under her elbow and brought her to her feet. “She has agreed to cooperate. Give her the dignity she deserves.”

“Come and visit her at my place in Port Royal, Herrera y Fallas, and perhaps I will let you have her if the size of your gold piece is right.” He pulled on the rope and forced her to stumble toward him. “Rory has worked for me before. She will again, but she won't be serving drinks behind the bar.”

She raised her head and met his eyes for the first time. “You will dine with the devil before I whore for you.”

He stared at her as the clearing grew silent. He had not expected her defiance, but he should have. Not only was she the daughter of Captain Stuart Powell, and not only had she been raised in the cesspool of Port Royal where she could depend on little but her wits, she had nothing left to lose. Let him have the accursed gold! He would not take her soul with it.

Yellow Hal swore, but Guillermo snatched the rope and, pulling her to a tree, lashed the rope around it. “Take care,” he whispered.

“He can do no worse than kill me.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you so sure of that?”

Her laugh was honed. “Do you want me to weep at a fate worse than death? You seemed quite willing to rape me in Havana. Why are you coming to my defense now when Yellow Hal wants to do what Nathan halted you from doing?”

His face grew pale, and he walked away as Yellow Hal ordered one of his men to guard her. A single glare warned Herrera y Fallas not to be so foolish again.

Rory rested her head against the tree as she gazed at the stars. She could not believe Nathan was dead, even though she had seen him fall and Guillermo check to see if he breathed.

If there was any chance he or Ernest were alive, they would need help. To help them, she must escape. That was impossible, she realized when she glanced around the clearing. Ernest had been right. There were twelve men from the
Scourge.
Her bound hands in her lap clenched in anger. Yellow Hal cared so little for the first mate that he had not asked if he was dead or alive.

Yellow Hal came over to her with a cup. He held it to her lips. “Drink.”

She did as he ordered. The coolness eased her thirst but not the knot in her heart. “I assume that this is drugged, too.”

“It will make it easier for all of us tonight, Rory, if you sleep like a good girl. We have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow while we load Powell's gold on the
Scourge.
” His repugnant smile glistened in the moonlight. “Don't expect Herrera y Fallas to help you. He's already asleep.”

“I didn't expect him to help me.” She yawned. “I must bid you good night, Captain. I am sure you aren't surprised that I suddenly feel very tired.” She closed her eyes and lowered her head down onto her drawn-up knees, glad that the sleeping powder would keep dreams at bay. Tomorrow, the nightmare would begin again.

Yellow Hal had measured the sleeping powder well, for Rory woke just as the men were finishing their breakfast. Mud stuck to her face, and she knew she must have been crying in her sleep. Those tears had not eased her grief, her disbelieving grief, because she could not accept that Nathan was truly dead, along with her most precious dreams. When had her dreams of a cottage and a flower garden grown to include him standing in the doorway beside her?

A piece of fruit was shoved into her hands. Although her stomach protested, she ate. When she finished it, Guillermo brought her another piece. She bit into the pulp, and sticky juice ran along her arms, leaving shiny lines amid the dirt.

“I know it is too late,” he said softly, “and I have said this before, but I am sorry,
mi querida.
”

Tears flooded her eyes. “You are right, Guillermo. It's too late. I could have forgiven you anything else. How can you forgive yourself? You hate my father because he killed for this gold. Now you have done the same. My father killed your father, and you have slain the man I love. Does it give you your revenge? Is it as sweet as you had hoped?”

“Rory, let me explain—”

“No, Guillermo, you can't.”

He put out his hand to her quivering shoulder but drew back before he touched her. Rising to his feet, he said, “As you wish, Rory. Just remember that I hope for you all the happiness you deserve,
mi querida.
” When she did not look up, he walked away.

Rory peered into the jungle, hoping for any sign to show her that Nathan and Ernest were still alive. She knew her hopes were becoming more futile with the passage of each hour. Somewhere, they were left uncovered in the sun. She knew what would happen if she asked Yellow Hal to order his men to give them a proper burial. He would laugh.

As if her thoughts could take form, Yellow Hal crossed the clearing and drew her to her feet. “'Tis a grand morning, Rory, my girl, for you are going to lead me to Powell's gold.” The laugh she despised filled her ears.

She smiled, and he frowned. Let the gold's curse destroy him as it had her heart. “Yes, Captain Warwick. I will lead you to the gold. Take me to the headwaters of the creek, and I will show you where it is.”

Untying the rope from the tree, he tugged on it. “Come along, wench, and make us wealthy men.” He laughed when she tripped on her torn chemise.

The men fell in line behind them as they went to the creek. Her hands were lashed together, so Guillermo walked beside her, pushing aside branches and cutting vines to let her slip through the underbrush.

She listened to Yellow Hal's men brag about what they would buy with their share of the gold. Biting her lip, she tried to ignore the waves of pain. This gold should have been her father's. Her father's and her mother's and hers as they shared the life they should have had. It should have been shared with the Blindman. And Nathan.… It should have bought him the respect he yearned for in Maryland. Now, it would buy these pirates rum and women and more ships to steal more gold.

As the sun rose higher, the heat became unbearable. Rory fought her nausea, for she could not become ill as she had in Havana. Yellow Hal would have no compassion for her. With every step, he increased their pace.

Rory dropped to the ground when they paused by the creek, which bubbled out from the rocks to splash down to the sea. Her chest heaved with fatigue. Food was pressed into her bound hands, and she stared at the meat, which smelled of brine.

“Eat, Rory,
mi querida,
“urged Guillermo as he sat next to her. “You must eat.”

If she did, she would throw up. She tossed the meat on the ground. Drawing up her knees, she rested her cheek on them. She should have gone with Nathan when he first told her about the
Raven.
Then, Yellow Hal would never have guessed that the key to her father's poem had been working in his tavern. She had been a fool to gamble on going back into Port Royal, and now she had to pay.

“Get away from her, Herrera y Fallas!” Yellow Hal kicked at him. “I don't want you near her again.”

“Captain—”

“Stay away from her, or I will let you watch while I bruise her pretty face again.” He pulled on the rope. She came to her feet with a gasp of pain. That brought a smile as he drew her toward him. Bending down, he thrust his face in front of hers, his eyes on fire with gold lust. “Now, Rory, my girl, tell me where Powell hid his treasure. We will find it, then you share your own treasures with me on the
Scourge.
” He crowed as he twisted his fingers into her hair. “All Powell held most dear will be mine.”

She wondered if her father could have imagined this would happen. Maybe he, too, had begun to suspect the gold was cursed, and he would be happy to have his murderer possess it. She had to believe that.

Looking past him, she smiled. “There,” she said, pointing across the creek. “My father said it would be in a cave over there on the left side of the hill.”

“Come with me, my girl, and help me look.”

“No!”

“Why not? Powell wanted his blackbird of the dawn to have his gold.” He herded her across the creek.

She could not tell him the truth, that she wanted to stay far from the gold. He would use her own fear to break her will.

Yellow Hal led the way but ordered his men to fan out along the hillside to search for the cave, which might be well hidden after so many years. Knives clanged against the rocks as his men looked for the opening.

After an hour, Yellow Hal's impatience became a monstrous roar. He cursed when one of his men offered him a drink of rum to ease his thirst. Slapping the flask from the man's hand, he ignored it shattering on the stones.

“Have you told us a lie, wench?”

She laughed. “No, I haven't lied to you. It is here on the hillside, but you are looking in the wrong place.” She pointed to a clump of briars at the base of the hill. “That is where it will be.”