Surrender the Heart (51 page)

I have led these men to their deaths
. Noah swallowed down the burning in his throat. Just as he had caused his brother’s death. Was this to be his legacy? Not only a failure, but also a murderer?

His thoughts swarmed around Marianne, another of his victims. With Noah killed or captured, she was as good as dead.
“I’ll come back for you, I promise.”
His last words to her chanted a woeful melody in his mind. Another promise he could not keep. And for Marianne, another person she could not trust.

Noah’s heart felt as heavy as a thirty-two pounder and just as
deadly. Because of him, everyone he cared about was in harm’s way. Everyone he cared about would soon be dead. He was nothing but a disappointment, just as his father had always declared.

The man’s rage-filled face bloated in Noah’s mind. “You’ll never live up to your brother. Never,” he spat in disgust then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

And Noah hadn’t. Not only had he not lived up to Jacob’s legacy, but with this last venture, Noah had far exceeded his own record of shortcomings.

Boom!
The thunder of another cannon pounded the air. Noah gazed at the smoke spiraling upward in the distance, no longer bracing himself for the blast. What would it matter? Perhaps it would be better to get it over with.

The splash crackled the air as if laughing at him. Much closer this time.

“I could never please you, Father.” Noah leaned back on the edge of his desk and hung his head.

“You please Me.”

Noah’s heart picked up a beat. He glanced over the dark cabin. The terror of his impending death had no doubt befuddled his mind. Withdrawing the stained handkerchief from his pocket, Noah placed it over his heart. “If I make it to heaven, brother, I hope you won’t be angry at me.”

If
I make it to heaven
. But why would God let him through those holy gates? He’d been nothing but incompetent his entire life. Even in his death, Noah would fail. God would no doubt raise His voice in indignation, spout a litany of Noah’s failures and cast him from His sight.

“I am not like your father.”

That voice again, soft, confident, coming from within him. Emotion clogged Noah’s throat. He had called both God and his earthly father cruel taskmasters. Was it possible, as both Matthew and Luke had said, that Noah confused the two?

The blast of a cannon roared.

“I love you. I am proud of you.”

Proud of me? Noah rose and took up a pace before the windows. Nothing but his warped imagination turned the creak and groan of the ship into words he longed to hear.

Splash
. Closer still.

Yet the promise imbedded within that gentle voice was too much to ignore.

“If that’s You, God, where have You been?”

“I have never left.”

The gentle words floated around Noah, penetrating his heart with their truth. He was the one who had left God. But who could blame him? After God allowed Jacob to fall to his death? After He allowed Noah to carry the guilt for all those years?

“Why, God, why?”

“You do not know the end yet.”
Daniel’s ponderous words echoed through the darkness. Noah pivoted and headed back the other direction. But what happy ending could such a tragedy produce?

“Trust Me.”

A cannon thundered. Noah halted his pacing and stared out the window. Yellow smoke dissipated into the darkness just like his faith had done so many years ago. “Trust You with an ending when the beginning has been so horrid?” Noah shook his head and balled the handkerchief in his hand.

No answer came save the moan of the ship and the rush of water. He wanted to trust God. He wanted to believe there was some purpose to this madness. Some reason for the tragedies. Someone who truly loved him.

But would a God who loved him do the things He …

“Trust Me.”

His brother’s smiling face formed out of the darkness. He winked at Noah and flashed a challenge from his blue eyes so full of life and adventure. Guilt pressed heavy on Noah, forcing him to his knees.

“Give Me your guilt, son. I will take it from you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know how.” A sense welled up
in his belly. A strong sense that Jacob’s death happened for a reason, that there was nothing Noah could have done to prevent it. Nothing would have changed an outcome predestined from before time.

“But why make me a part of it?”

“Give Me the guilt.”

“Please tell Jacob I’m sorry.”

“He knows.”

A cannon thundered as if affirming the statement. Noah squeezed the handkerchief to his chest. “God, can you ever forgive me? For turning away from you? For my anger toward you?”

“I already have.”

Wiping the moisture from his eyes, Noah shifted his shoulders. He felt as if a massive weight had been torn from his back. He drew in a deep breath and his lungs, his very spirit, filled with such a strong sense of love it threatened to knock him over.

He rose, feeling light as a topsail fluttering in the wind. “I’ve been such a fool, Lord. My anger kept me separated from You—from this.” A love so consuming, so pure, it filled every crack and crevice in his heart. He bowed his head. “My God and my King.”

Boom!

He lifted his gaze to the flash in the distance. His predicament had not changed. “Lord, if You could, please save us so we can go save Marianne. But if not, if that is not Your will, please save her and bring her home.”

Boom!

Wood snapped. Glass flew through the air in an ear-piercing shatter. The last thing Noah remembered was his face hitting the deck.

CHAPTER 27

M
arianne bit her lip. Her legs wobbled. “To what are you referring, sir?”

Mr. Reed gave her a caustic look. “I am referring to the long knife you are hiding in your skirts, miss.”

“Oh, that.” Her heart sank. Freeing the blade from the folds of her gown, Marianne lifted it, point forward.

Without warning, the lieutenant grabbed her wrist, plucked the knife from her grasp, and released her hand.

Marianne rubbed the mark he left on her skin.

Mr. Reed studied her. “Where did you get this?”

She glanced at the knife Mr. Reed so casually held in his hand. She must get it back. Without it, she would be helpless to assist her country. But surely this officer would never allow someone who was, for all practicality, a prisoner on board this ship, to have a weapon. Unless …

“Mr. Reed, I beg you. Allow me to keep it. I only intended to borrow it for a time. To ward off Lieutenant Garrick. Surely you won’t deny an innocent woman the protection she needs against such a lecherous villain.” She drew her lips into a pleading pout that she feared
made her look ridiculous.

But Mr. Reed did not laugh. Instead, he fingered his chin, his gaze flickering from the knife in his grip to her eyes and back again.

His hesitation gave her hope. “Even if I promise to avoid Mr. Garrick, you know as well as I there is no guarantee of my safety,” she added.

“If you aspire to avoid Mr. Garrick, miss, might I suggest you avoid wandering about the bowels of the ship alone at night.” He spit out the last word with sarcasm.

Marianne looked down so he couldn’t discern the lie in her eyes. “It couldn’t be helped. I was not well and needed the surgeon.”

He released a sigh of frustration. “Could it not wait until morning? When you could have the captain summon him for you?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“Very well, let me show you the way.”

She saw his boots turn and his elbow came into her view. She lifted her gaze and offered him a sweet smile. “No need. It seems I have recovered.”

“Just like that.”

“I believe Mr. Garrick frightened my illness away.”

“Perhaps we should employ him as surgeon instead of first lieutenant. Then he could go about scaring everyone into perfect health.” He cocked a brow.

A giggle rose to Marianne’s lips, but she held it back. “May I have the knife, Mr. Reed?”

“I could be court-martialed.”

“No one need know.” Marianne saw the tight muscles in his face loosen. “Please, sir. It is bad enough I am a slave aboard this ship, but must I suffer ravishment as well?”

His hazel eyes darkened. Releasing a sigh, he flipped the knife and handed it to her, handle first. Grabbing it before he changed his mind, Marianne slipped it into her pocket.

He offered her his elbow. “What knife?” His lips curved in a rare smile that made him appear quite handsome.

Taking his arm, Marianne allowed him to lead her back to her cabin. Every step heightened her fear that the lieutenant would come to his senses and take back the blade. Perspiration trickled down her back as they navigated the dark companionway. Finally at her cabin, she opened the door and spun around to thank him, but he had already disappeared into the shadows.

Closing her door, Marianne took a deep breath to steady the thrash of her heart.
Thank You, Lord
. Plucking the knife from her pocket, she held it up to the moonlight, its blade a silver slice in the darkness.
Perhaps You are on my side, after all. Perhaps You do have a task for me to accomplish
. For tomorrow, if they came across the USS
Constitution
, Marianne would be ready.

“Captain, Captain.” The word tugged on Noah’s consciousness, dragging him back to the living.

“Captain.” Arms lifted him from behind. Gunpowder and smoke filled his lungs. He coughed and struggled to rise, struggled for a breath, struggled to open his eyes, yet deep down within him, afraid to struggle for anything.

“Captain, we’re hit, and the sloop is fast on our wake.” The urgency in Luke’s voice slapped Noah like a wall of icy water.

Batting Luke’s hands aside, Noah rose to his feet and opened his eyes to what was left of his cabin. Wind blasted in through the broken windows. The scent of the sea joined the smoke and the smell of charred wood. Half his desk was missing, leaving nothing but wooden spikes and burnt shavings. Shards of glass littered the deck, and all that remained of one of his chairs was a pile of splinters. A jagged hole pierced his canvas rug. Leaning over, he peered through it to the deck below. Nothing but darkness. At least the shot had not started a fire.