Surrender the Heart (42 page)

… when a sinister voice blared over them, tinged with sarcasm. “What have we here?”

Clutching Daniel, Marianne slipped into the shadows toward the stern.

Noah froze, his shoulders slumped. Beyond him, Lieutenant Garrick stood hands on his hips and a bestial smirk on his thin lips.

Marianne covered her mouth to suppress a scream.
No, Lord. Not this
. She pushed Daniel behind her and stepped farther back into the darkness where they would not be seen.

Blackthorn, Weller, and Luke faced their enemy, their faces pale.

Noah slowly turned around. He dropped the raft to the deck with a clunk.

“I’ll have you all court-martialed and put to death for this.” Lieutenant Garrick’s chuckle bubbled over the deck, so at odds with his grim statement. “Were you all to fit on that?” He picked up the raft and examined it. Then setting it on the deck, he stomped it with his boot, breaking it in half.

The crunch and snap of the wood skewered any hope left within Marianne.

“Odious cur,” Weller mumbled.

“What did you say?” Garrick peered around Noah toward the three men at the railing.

“He said you are an odious cur, sir.” Luke grinned, not an ounce of fear on his face.

Garrick’s eyes narrowed, and he started toward Luke. Noah stepped in the way and pushed the man back.

The insolence fled the lieutenant’s face, replaced by fear. “Guards!” His smirk returned but fell when no footsteps answered his call.

Luke barreled forward. As did Blackthorn and Weller.

Garrick drew his sword and leveled it at Noah’s chest. “Not another step or I’ll run him through. Guards!”

A red spot blossomed on Noah’s shirt beneath the point.

Marianne’s stomach collapsed. Daniel gripped her hand from behind. His whispered prayers rose on the wind.

Luke and Blackthorn charged Garrick. Noah ducked and rammed his body into the Lieutenant’s torso. Marianne stopped breathing. Garrick toppled to the deck with a thump. His sword flew into the air, struck the binnacle, and toppled to the waist of the ship with a
clank
. His bicorn landed beside him.

Before the man could recover, Noah, his face a mass of rage, lifted Garrick up by the lapels of his dark coat and slugged him across the jaw.

Garrick stumbled backward, terror screaming from his pointy face. “Guards!”

This time, grumbling sounded from the foredeck. The dark mass of the watchman struggled to his feet and peered in their direction. “Time to go.” Luke urged.

“It’s certain death now if we don’t.” Blackthorn peered into the darkness. “Come along, son.” Slipping from behind Marianne, Daniel darted toward his father and the two of them started over the railing.

Noah released Garrick and shoved him aside.

“You’ll never get away.” Garrick straightened his coat, his voice quavering. “I’ll have the marines after you in moments.”

“Only if you’re able to tell them where we are.” Noah slammed
his fist across the lieutenant’s jaw once again. Garrick’s head snapped backward, and he fell to the deck in a heap.

Noah turned to Marianne. “Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her to the railing. Luke dove into the water. Blackthorn and Daniel clambered down the rope to the black sea below. Weller straddled the bulwarks and gave Marianne one last look of concern before he held his nose and dropped over the side.
Splash
.

The watchman tumbled down the foredeck ladder and made his way across the main deck.

Noah swung over the gunwale then reached back for Marianne. “Hold on to me. I’ll help you down.”

Terror clamped her every muscle, nerve, and fiber. “I can’t, Noah. There is no raft.”

“I’m a strong swimmer. You can hang onto my back.” His eyes, brimming with concern, pleaded with her. He nodded as if to reinforce his statement. As if that would somehow dissipate all her fears.

She wished with all her heart that it would.

The watchman’s heavy steps sounded on the quarterdeck ladder.

“I can’t.” She stepped back, knowing all too well the hopeless life she chose. But better to be alive and a prisoner than dead at the bottom of the sea. “Go without me.”

Noah’s jaw tightened. “No. Come.” He held out his hand. “Please trust me, Marianne.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t trust him. Not him, not anyone, not even God. “The captain’s orders are to rendezvous with the HMS
Guerriére
in the north and find and destroy the USS
Constitution.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Noah huffed. “Come!” He held out his hand.

“It’s too late. The marine will see us.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Go. I’ll divert his attention.”

“Who goes there?” the watchman’s slurred voice shot over them.

Tears burned in her eyes. She stepped back again. “I’m sorry, Noah.”

The watchman’s boots thumped upon the quarterdeck. “What’s this about?”

Pain, desperation screamed from Noah’s eyes. “I’ll come back for you.” He glanced at the guard then below at the water, then back at her. “Do you hear me? I will come back for you.”

But Marianne dared not hope. Promises made were promises broken. She longed to run into his arms, if only to feel his strength surround her one last time. A tear slipped down her cheek.

Then he disappeared over the side.

A splash bellowed hollow and empty.

Swiping her moist cheeks, Marianne turned to face the marine.

“Oh, it’s you, Miss Denton. I thought I heard voices.” He lowered his musket and swayed on his feet.

“My apologies, Mr. Jameson. I couldn’t sleep.” Marianne hoped he didn’t hear the quaver in her voice nor see Lieutenant Garrick’s unconscious form lying in the shadows by the railing.

“Very well.” He swung about and stumbled on his way.

Releasing a sigh of relief, Marianne turned and loosened the rope from the bulwarks. The thick hemp dropped to the bay with a hollow swish. She gripped the railing and peered into the thick darkness. Not a trace of the five men, not a shimmer, splash, or flicker marked their passage.

Her legs crumpled like loose ropes and she fell to the deck. They had left her.

Noah had left her.

CHAPTER 22

N
oah dragged his drenched body onto shore and dropped onto the sand. His heart felt as heavy and saturated as his clothes—as empty as his lungs as he gulped to fill them.

He could not shake the look on Marianne’s face right before he dropped into the sea—the look of pure terror and desperation. And it had taken every ounce of his strength to leave her.

But he had no choice.

Or did he? During the long, arduous swim ashore, he’d had plenty of time to replay every painful detail in his mind. Should he have grabbed her and forced her to go? But how could he swim with a hysterical woman clawing at him? Both of them would have drowned. Then there was the problem of the approaching watchman. Marianne had been right. They wouldn’t have made it very far if he had seen them and alerted the ship. He wondered what had become of Garrick. Had he awoken? He assumed not.

Noah could still hear Marianne’s soft voice as she mollified the watchman’s suspicions. Protecting them. So they could get away.

While they left her behind.

His gut churned. Waves washed over his legs, trying to drag him back into the sea. Which was what he deserved or worse.

Weller crawled up beside him. Followed by Luke and Blackthorn with Daniel clinging to his back. Their heavy breaths sounded like a flock of birds frightened into flight.

Digging his hands into the sand, Noah lifted himself to his knees. No time to rest. They had chosen a spot far away from the lights of town, but that didn’t mean they were safe. “Follow me,” he whispered, struggling to his feet.

Trudging through the sand, he made out a clump of shadowy vegetation in the darkness. His gut roiled. If he had stayed with Marianne, he would have been court-martialed and hanged. What good would he be to her dead? Noah was sure Lieutenant Garrick had not seen her in the shadows. Therefore, she could not be implicated in their escape. She would survive.

She must survive.

Self-loathing rose like bile in his throat. What sort of man left the woman he loved in such a dangerous place?
Woman he loved
. The truth struck him like the sharp wind that now blasted over him.

Shivering, he batted away the leaves of a nearby tree and plunged into the jungle. The smell of earth and life saturated his nose. If they could make their way to a less inhabited side of the island, stay hidden, and avoid British authorities, Noah hoped to be able to spot the
Fortune
. He had a feeling Matthew would be searching for them. He knew because that was exactly what Noah would do.

The twigs and leaves of the forest crunched beneath his bare feet, biting into his skin. Noah fisted his hands and tromped through the underbrush, one thought, one purpose driving him forward. Once he got off this island, he would rescue Marianne from that British frigate. Even if he died trying.

Marianne stared at the deckhead above her bed. Since dawn had broken and dared to force its light upon the callous darkness of her cabin,
she had occupied her time counting every divot and scratch in the fine oak. What else could she do? Her body, numb from shock and agony, refused to move from the supine position it had assumed upon her mattress after she’d spilled every last tear onto the coverlet. Nor did she want to move. If she were forced to get up and greet the day, she’d be forced to accept that she was all alone, without a friend, without any help, without hope aboard an enemy frigate. And that reality would surely crush her beneath its massive weight.

“Miss Denton!” the captain’s growl blared down the passageway and screeched beneath her door. Either he wanted his breakfast or he’d discovered her friends’ escape. She supposed she should be frightened that he’d also discovered she’d given rum to the guards, but she could find no fear within the numbness that consumed her. Unless she’d be punished for the offense or hanged, the day loomed before her with endless scrubbing, buffing, polishing, rinsing, and cleaning. Not to mention listening for hours to the captain’s rumblings and bracing herself to endure his rapid shifts from madness to complacency.