The Baron's Bounty (4 page)

The king’s death was said to have been an accident. Supposedly his horse threw him that night in the storm, and he’d ended up at the bottom of the cliff - but she knew better. So while Catherine was preparing to cross the sea to marry her betrothed, Isobel decided she couldn’t let her go before telling her what she knew. Even someone like Catherine didn’t deserve to marry a murderer.

That’s when she’d stopped her cousin and confessed to her what she’d seen that night and told her that she suspected the murderer could be the English baron. In hindsight she realized that mayhap she should have stayed quiet, and she wouldn’t be here right now. Her confession did naught but seal her own fate. The next thing she knew – she was on the ship standing in as proxy to the wedding in Catherine’s place.

“We’re all goin’ te die!” She shouted over the sound of the howling winds in order to be heard. Her cloak blew right off her body and disappeared somewhere over the side of the ship. She could no longer see where she walked with the rain pouring down so hard. Water dripped from her nose and chin, and she shivered from the cold. Her teeth chattered as she tried to take two steps forward, but was unsuccessful at her attempt. The ship leaned and creaked, and when she looked up she screamed at seeing the size of the swell looming above them. The wave rose up like a hungry demon dragon from the sea.

It hit the ship hard. She tried to turn, but she was pushed forward from the force, sending her smashing into her guard. She was drenched from head to foot, and her English gown that Catherine insisted she wear, was heavier than chains around her neck. She sputtered, trying to catch her breath from the amount of water she’d swallowed.

“’Tis me own fault,” she cried out, choking on the salty taste of the sea. “We’re goin’ te die. I didna mean fer this te happen!”

“Lady Isobel, stop with the clishmaclaver. Get yer doup in the cargo hold and stop fighting me!” Elliot turned her around roughly, holding her arm so tightly she felt as if it would break as he headed her back to the hold.

She tore her wrist from his hand and stumbled over a stray wooden pole used to secure the lines. Then she slipped on the wet deck, ending up holding onto the side rail of the ship, very close to being dumped into the sea.

The winds were relentless, blowing the coif from her head next. It disappeared somewhere over the side of the ship and the ribbon holding back her hair followed. Now her long tresses blew chaotically in all directions, stinging her eyes so she could not see.

Lightning flashed, lighting up the black sky once again. It was followed by the loud cracking sound of splintering wood. It was so loud it startled her, and she jumped to her feet, holding one hand against her heart as the sound resonated in her chest. She felt her body tingle, and when she finally managed to push the tangled hair from her eyes, she looked up to the main mast to see it ablaze with fire. The lightning had struck it and not only set it afire but it was starting to crack in half as well.

“Fire on the deck,” called out the captain, and everyone rushed around in a frenzied manner, doing all they could to try to put it out. The wind blew again, filling the sails and she heard a rip as it tore in two. Everyone was trying desperately to remedy the situation, but it was too late - they’d lost control of the ship. With the main sail torn in half, it flicked outward, setting the front sail on fire as well. Isobel felt helpless and doomed as she watched the billowing black smoke rise up high into the stormy sky.

Pieces of burning cloth fell from above as fire from the sky. There was no way to put out the fire now, nor a way to save the mast. Though the decks were wet, a raging fire could consume the entire wooden ship quickly. Without a mast, they were helpless and vulnerable, just waiting to die at the hands of nature.

Isobel stood frozen in terror as she watched the mast topple over under the heavy weight. The flaming sails fell toward the deck – headed right for her.

“Get outta the way ye fool,” shouted Elliot, rushing directly at her. His body barreled into hers and the air left her lungs with a whoosh as he pushed her out of the way, up against the side of the ship. The burning mast landed on the deck right at their feet.

She hadn’t even had the chance to wrap her fingers around the railing to secure her before the ship tilted once more, lowering her side of the ship. She stumbled and grabbed for the lines, but she slipped on the wet surface. Before she could steady herself, a wave higher than the mast hit the ship, and she teetered on the edge of the rail looking down into the black swirling depths of the angry sea.

“Elliot,” she cried out, and the man reached for her. But instead of saving her, they both went over the side of the ship.

Her body hit the water hard. She held her breath as it covered her head and she was dragged down below the surface. The sound of bubbles filled her ears and the noise around her became muffled and quiet. Though her eyes were opened, it was dark and she couldn’t tell which way was up. Her velvet gown weighed her down, and she felt as if she were a knight dressed in full battle attire, barely able to move. Then the current pushed her upward, and her head broke the surface. She gasped for breath, floundering around in the sea, feeling as if she were going to her death – all for a pair of shoes and a wisp of a promise that would most likely been broken anyway.

She was pushed away from the ship, further into the sea. She struggled to keep her head above the water, already so tired that she knew her death was imminent. She prayed her demise wouldn’t be painful, and that she would go quickly.

She saw the bright orange flames shooting upward from the ship in the distance as the waves pushed her away. She watched in horror as the ship tilted nose first into the water and then started to sink down into the sea. The cries of every man going to his death echoed in her brain, and the sight of the ship disappearing sealed her doomed fate. She would never forget this horrific sight for as long as she lived – which wouldn’t be long now.

“Nay!” She cried out, but no one would hear her. A piece of wreckage floated by, and it was all she could do to reach out and grab the wood. Her body felt so heavy and her hands were cramped from the cold water. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold on, nor was she sure she even cared. She was too far from shore to swim to safety, and with this heavy gown she couldn’t swim anyway. No one would come to her rescue in the storm. Elliot was right. Her life was over, and once again she could do naught to stop the circumstances that spiraled out of control.

She felt her eyelids getting heavy and all she wanted to do was sleep. The waters had thankfully pushed her away from the burning ship so she wasn’t dragged down with it, but all nature really did was prolong her agony as she waited for her death.

She saw no one else in the water, just wreckage, barrels, and trunks floating by her. Then she heard the sickening sound of the ship being sucked down beneath the water completely as it sank to the bottom of the sea.

She was alone now, and it would only be a matter of time before she joined the others in their watery deaths. Her eyes started to close again, and she knew she was hallucinating because she swore she had briefly seen another ship with full sails on the water coming toward her.

“I’m dreaming,” she said to herself, trying to talk to stay awake or she knew she would slip into an unconscious state. Mayhap that wasn’t such a bad idea. Then she’d feel no pain as the water burned her lungs and she sank to the ocean floor. “No one knows I’m here. No one is coming to help me.”

As her eyes started to drift closed, she thought about the baron of the Cinque Ports. Her curiosity kept her awake now because for five months she’d wondered what he’d looked like since their initial meeting had gone awry. Was he handsome? Was he an ogre? Did he really murder the Scottish king?

She thought she saw that ship again in the night, and this time her senses played games with her. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she saw a flag atop the mast – the flag of the Cinque Ports.

Chapter 2

“Bid the devil, we are too late!” Conlin slammed his palm against the wooden rail of the ship, peering through the night sky, trying to get a glimpse of his betrothed’s ship. He’d seen the lightning hit the mast and the sails catch afire. The strong winds spread the fire quicker than he could commandeer his ship to the site. Now all that was left was flotsam and jetsam scattered over the water. Boards, trunks, rigging, and barrels bobbed up and down in the waves. The acrid smell of burning canvas filled the air, and ashes from the fire drifted down through the sky.

The rain let up, and the winds were starting to subside, so the storm proved to be short-lived. He was grateful, as this would allow him and his crew to look for survivors as well as to collect his bounty.

Conlin hurried across the deck to the main mast. “Get the grappling hooks and poles and pull the bounty aboard our ship,” he called out to his crew. “I’m going atop to see if I can spot any survivors. Light some torches so we can see what the hell we’re doing.”

“Aye, captain,” called out several of his crew.

“Where are you going, my lord?” His squire, Toft, hurried over to him just as Conlin grabbed onto the rigging, intending to climb.

“I need to look for survivors. My betrothed is out there.”

“Let me go, my lord.” Toft was young and agile, and before Conlin could even answer, the young man was halfway up the rigging.

“Shout out if you see anyone. They won’t last long in the water in this weather. And it’ll be difficult to see them since it’s so dark.”

Men hustled to and fro, securing the ship and at the same time preparing to collect the cargo from the sunken ship. They used long poles with hooks on the ends, trying to snag flotsam as it floated by.

Conlin grabbed Shadwell by the arm. “Lower the shuttle boat over the side. I’m going in.”

“It’s dangerous in this weather, milord. You ought to stay on the ship and let me go in your stead.”

“We’ll both go. Now hurry. Anyone in these waters won’t last long, not to mention be naught more than shark bait.”

“Aye, milord.”

Conlin had just gotten himself settled in the small boat when he heard Toft cry out from the lookout basket atop the mast.

“Baron, I think I see somebody. They’re holding onto a board.”

“Where?” He surveyed the choppy waters but saw no one.

“They are starboard at the stern. It looks to be a woman in a red dress.”

“Shadwell, quickly, row us to the stern. That could be my betrothed.” Conlin felt anxiety course through him. Mayhap his bride hadn’t gone down with the ship after all. He thought about his upcoming marriage to her and then about his daughter who wanted nothing to do with a Scottish stepmother. Confusion muddled his brain, and for a mere second he wondered if mayhap it would have been better in the long run if his betrothed had drowned after all. “Nay!” he shouted out loud, cursing himself for even having the thought to begin with. “Row faster, Shadwell.”

“I’m rowing as fast as I can but the waters are still turbulent, my lord.”

Then came another report from Toft. “Baron, I see a man as well. But he’s at the bow of the ship.”

“God’s eyes, nay!” Conlin knew they couldn’t go in two directions at once. And by the time they put the second shuttle boat into the water, it could be too late.

“Which way shall we go?” asked Shadwell.

Conlin looked to the back of the ship and could make out the form of a woman in the water holding onto a floating board. Her fingers seemed to be slipping and her head was down. Then he turned and could barely make out another body in the water near the front of the ship. This person had no floatation device to keep them above the surface at all.

“You take the boat and go after the man. I’ll get the girl.” He stood and stripped off his surcoat and removed his weaponbelt. Then he kicked off his boots as well.

“You can’t mean you’re going to swim to save her,” said Shadwell in surprise.

“Do you have a better idea? We need to move fast or we’ll lose them both.”

Conlin dove into the cold water, trying to ignore the sting of pain to his skin, and the constricting feeling against his ribs. He saw the woman struggling and slipping below the surface, and put his head down and swam as hard as he could making a straight line for her. He could only hope to get to her in time. He lifted his head upward as he got closer, knowing he had to let her know help was on its way.

“Hold on!” he shouted, and saw her lift her head slightly. As he got even closer, he realized this woman couldn’t be his betrothed, because she was beautiful. Either that, or someone had a very different opinion of a horse than he did.

“I – I canna hold on.” Her chestnut hair was illuminated slightly by the light starting to breaking through the clouds. Her tresses were long, almost down to her waist, and clung to her curves. As he approached, he realized her velvet gown had soaked up so much water that the weight of it was pulling her under.

“Nay!” He saw her fingers slip from the board and her head disappear beneath the surface. He took a deep breath and dove downward, reaching out, hoping to at least touch her before she slipped away forever.

His hand brushed across what he thought was cloth, and he gripped it tightly and dragged her upward as he fought to make his way to the surface.

He head broke through the water and he pulled the girl upward with him. He heard her cough and sputter, and looked over to realize he held her by her hair. The piece of wood she’d been holding onto was still there and he grabbed it with one hand.

“Ow! Let go o’ me afore I –” She coughed and spit up water, and Conlin took her hands and placed them on the board.

“Your dress is too heavy, it’s pulling you under,” he told her. “You need to remove it, anon.”

“What?” She managed to speak the word and then coughed and gagged again.

“It’s the only way we’ll get back to the ship. Now remove it before you drown.”

“I willna!” She was a stubborn wench, even in the process of drowning. He still wasn’t sure who she was, but there would be time for introductions later – if he could manage to save her neck. She started to go under again, and he pulled her back up, feeling the weight of his own clothes starting to drag him down.

“If you won’t do it, then allow me.” Leaning over the board to stay afloat, he reached out and took hold of her gown in two hands, pulling it apart at the bodice. The buttons popped off, but being wet, it wouldn’t tear easily. She reached out and waved her fists at him, going under the surface again in the process. He pulled her upward by the hair once more.

“Enough,” he said, pulling himself up onto the floating piece of wreckage. Positioned on his knees he reached out and pulled the heavy, wet gown away from her skin. She gasped, and when he looked downward, he realized he could see through her wet chemise. With her gown in both hands, he saw two perfectly rounded, firm breasts, and two taut rosy nipples.

He swallowed hard, and dragged his eyes away from her body and to her face next. Her hazel eyes glowered at him, and he swore little specks of orange burned fire against the green and brown marbled orbs. If her arms hadn’t been trapped in the gown he was sure she would have risked drowning just to reach up and slap him.

“I apologize, but it needs to be done.”

“Get me out o’ the water,” she snapped.

“We’ll never make it back to the ship unless you remove the wet gown.”

“Then take it,” she challenged him, or mayhap it was naught more than permission to continue what he had started. Either way, it didn’t matter. If they were going to get back to the ship alive – the gown needed to go.

He pulled the gown from her arms, and her innocent eyes looked upward, drawing him in. She reminded him of a siren, the tone of her voice capturing him, making him want to get to know her more. Her eyes and creamy skin intoxicated him.

Pushing the gown away, he reached down and pulled her upward, making sure to hold her securely.

A wave washed up between them, but she didn’t even flinch. She gazed into his eyes differently now, and it was obvious her impression of him had changed.

“I – I almost drowned,” she told him. “Ye saved me. Thank ye.” Her eyelids fluttered downward for a moment and then she looked back up to him, and the glowering was gone and in its place he saw relief and want. Then to his surprise, she raised her chin and kissed him.

Her lips were soft, though they tasted salty like the sea. Her skin felt smooth except for the little raised bumps on her skin that told him she was cold.

He’d felt cold at first, but now he was hotter than the fires of hell. He knew he had no right kissing a woman when he didn’t even know who she was. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from returning the kiss.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said in a low voice. “We’re still in danger until we return to my ship. The sea is fickle, and though the weather has stilled some, there is no guarantee another storm won’t take our lives before we get back to shore.”

“Nay,” she said, shaking her head. “Dinna let that happen, please.”

“Baron, I’ve collected the survivor,” called out Shadwell. “Hold on and I’ll be right there with the boat.”

Conlin knew he couldn’t let the other men see this girl half-naked, so he removed his own white tunic and pulled it over her head. Then he slipped back down into the water, collecting her in his arms, being sure to hold onto her so she wouldn’t go under again.

Shadwell rowed up to them, and the men helped the girl into the small boat. Conlin hauled himself over the edge as well. The sea was still choppy and a light mist fell around them, but the brunt of the squall was over.

“My lord, you’ve save a girl!” Shadwell eyed her from head to toe.

“My lady, ye’re alive,” said the other survivor. He had his arms wrapped around himself and he shivered.

The girl raised her chin and answered. “Aye, Elliot, and ye have survived too. I think we are the only ones.”

“Who are ye?” asked the man, looking at Conlin.

“I am Lord Conlin de Braose of Sandwich, and Baron of the Cinque Ports. And across from me is my First Mate, Shadwell. “Who are you two?”

“I’m Elliot,” said the man. “I am Lady Isobel’s guard and escort from Scotland.”

“Lady Isobel?” He looked at the girl, saddened that she wasn’t Lady Catherine, the woman he was supposed to marry. Then again, that would have been too much to ask. “I was expecting my betrothed, Lady Catherine. Was she on the ship too?”

“Nay, me lord, she was no’.” The glowering look returned to the wench’s eyes and he didn’t understand why.

“Where is she? We are supposed to be married today.” He put his hand on Isobel’s arm when he spoke and he felt her muscles tighten under his fingers. Something changed and he didn’t know what. The woman who’d just kissed him now looked like she wanted to slap him again.

“She’s back in Scotland,” the guard relayed the information. “She didna come te marry ye, but sent her proxy in her stead.”

“Her proxy?” This took Conlin by surprise and he turned to face the girl again. “Lady Isobel – are you Lady Catherine’s proxy?”

“I am,” she ground out, sounding as if she hated the idea. He couldn’t say he was happy about the idea of a proxy either. But after that kiss they’d shared, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if he’d been betrothed to her instead of a woman he’d never met who was said to have the face of a horse and was referred to as the Shrew of the Scots.

“Nay,” he said loudly, making the girl jump in surprise. Conlin ran a hand through his hair, looking at the beautiful girl wrapped in his white tunic. It started to rain again, and her body shook and her teeth chattered. Her wet hair stuck to her skin and water dripped down her face and chest. His eyes didn’t miss her taut nipples poking out, still clearly visible through the white tunic. His body had reacted to her and now he wished he had never kissed her, because he could think of nothing else. Marrying her as a proxy was the last thing he wanted to do. To have her standing next to him while taking his vows while really being married to the Shrew of the Scots who wasn’t even present, was going to be the cruelest jest God every played on him in his life.