The Marriage Bargain (24 page)

“I didn’t know if you were still alive. Oh, Beckett!”

“Are you alright, Isobel? Lennox, has he—”

“Sir Harry has a terrible case of seasickness. He’s been in his cabin for most of the time, and other than that, he hasn’t had the strength to do much more than scowl. I’m quite well.”

Beckett closed his eyes in relief, then looked back at her with that fiery gaze that made her heart skip.

“I’ve been going mad with worry.”

“As I have.” She squeezed his hand through the bars. “Are you alright?”

“I had some broken ribs, but they’re on the mend. It’s too bad Williams didn’t leave his key. Don’t suppose you feel like breaking down the door, do you my dear?” He chuckled.

“Don’t try anything foolish, Beckett. You must promise me.”

“I will try anything if it will get us out of here.”

“Well, that is the least of our problems now, it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

Isobel took a deep breath. “I overheard two men talking just now about a mutiny that is going to take place very soon. They plan to kill Captain Worthington, and I can only imagine what they mean to do to us.”

“Damn!” Beckett cursed. “Where is the captain?”

“I haven’t seen him about. I assume he’s in his quarters.”

“You must go and warn him. It’s too risky to hope we could escape in the midst of a mutiny. Though I’d most likely be safe in here, you would be in great danger. No, you must warn the captain. I’ll give odds that he won’t believe you at first. He’ll think you’re trying to help me or yourself escape. But you must find some way to convince him. Do you think you can do that, Isobel?”

“I can if it means our lives. Your life. Oh, Beckett, I am so sorry you’ve been mixed up in this. If only you hadn’t taken me home that night. If only—”

“If only you’d stop saying ‘if only.’ I wouldn’t change it for the world. All of London will be terribly jealous when they find out we have sailed on a real pirate ship, and survived. I imagine Prinny will have us to dinner just to hear the tale.”

Isobel laughed, though tears dampened her eyes again.

Beckett squeezed her fingers, his eyes glowing with their intensity. “It will be alright, Isobel. I promise.

Now find Worthington.”

He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly through the bars, his gaze burning with emotion.

Isobel reluctantly pulled away, unwilling to give up even one moment of feeling his touch. She finally turned to go down the companionway, but stopped. This could be the last moment they ever saw each other alive….

She turned back and pressed herself against the heavy door, wishing it was Beckett’s body she clung to instead of the barrier that separated them. “I have to tell you. I can’t leave you here, not knowing if I’ll ever have the chance again. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but I must.”

Beckett’s fingers came through the bars and reached for her. She stretched up on tiptoe as high as she could, and she felt him stroke her hair. The look in his eyes threatened to melt her where she stood.

“No, Isobel.” He kissed her through the bars, so tenderly it almost broke her heart. “This won’t be the last time we have together. I promise. You must believe me.”

“I’m afraid of losing you!” She kissed him back fervently. She felt as if she were drowning, and Beckett was the very air that her body—her entire being—thirsted for.

“You won’t lose me, Isobel. And I won’t lose you—not to Sir Harry Lennox. As long as there is breath in my body, I won’t.”

Beckett’s words sent a chill through Isobel’s heart. As long as there is breath in my body….

“Beckett, I love you.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. “Even though you don’t want it to be true.

Even though I don’t want it to be true. And I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it. I love you more than life itself. So you better take care, do you hear? Don’t take any foolish chances with my husband’s life. I want him in one piece when this is over.”

His expression was strained—his blue eyes dark as a dusky sky. He kissed her fingers, then abruptly released her hand. “You must go now, Isobel. We’re running out of time.”

She nodded. A numbing coldness washed through her heart.

Isobel stepped back. She didn’t know what else to say. And she couldn’t will herself to smile as she looked upon her husband’s face for what could be the last time.

Finally, Isobel turned away, and slipped around the corner. She paused for a moment and stood with her back against the bulkhead before she continued. Hidden from Beckett’s sight, she felt her heart aching, as if the love and pain inside would overflow and burst it open like the banks of a swollen river.

He still didn’t love her.

Even now, when their lives were in such danger, when they might never see each other again, he’d said nothing.

It shouldn’t matter. Not now. But it did.

She swallowed and steeled herself against the tears that threatened to fall. She had no time for them now.

She had a mutiny to stop.

Isobel walked purposefully down the companionway, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself. But she didn’t know if it was from the danger she was facing or from the scene with Beckett.

How she had wanted to believe that he loved her! And she had foolishly thought he would answer her declaration of love with one of his own.

She had to clear her head of such notions. Now was not the time to lament her unrequited passion.

Beckett had made his feelings plain on the beach. And if they did get out of this together, she could not expect anything more from him.

She came around the corner and saw the dark, sturdy door to the captain’s quarters and stopped. As usual, there was a fearsome looking brute standing guard outside. Apparently, Worthington’s trust went only so far—and rightly so.

“I need to see the captain, if you please,” Isobel said firmly.

The big man looked at her, unimpressed. ” ‘E’s not to be disturbed.”

“It is of the utmost importance,” she insisted.

The man moved his face close to hers, and the strong smell of his unwashed body penetrated her nostrils.

The stubble on his face almost scraped her cheek as he spoke again, slowly and quietly. “I said, ‘e’s not to be disturbed… didn’t I?”

Isobel tried not to look at the rotten, jagged teeth that sparsely filled his mouth. “Good sir, I must see the captain. If you will not knock on the door, then I shall.”

The big man blocked Isobel’s approach and grabbed her outstretched arm, pulling a wicked-looking dagger up just inches in front of her eyes.

“Ye see this, Miss?”

Isobel nodded mutely.

“Well, the cap’n, see, ‘e tol’ me to put it through the heart of anyone who come near that door, there. An’

I would hate to dirty yer lovely dress.” He pushed her away but held the dagger up threateningly. “Now, ye be a good lass, and shag off, before me and me dagger poke holes in ye.”

Oh, bother! This was not going at all well.

“I shall return, then.” Isobel’s eyes flashed with as much haughtiness as she could muster. “And if the captain emerges, please tell him that I must speak to him right away.”

The man grinned at her as if she had just asked him to perform Hamlet in its entirety.

” ‘Course, Miss. I’ll do that.”

Frowning at her failure to talk her way past the guard, Isobel turned on her heel and made her way down the narrow passageway. Not knowing what else to do, she headed back to her quarters.

She would wait for a little while before insisting on seeing the captain once more. And if the man wouldn’t let her past, which he probably would not, what would she do then?

Fighting the urge to return to Beckett’s cell, Isobel forced herself back to her room. She would wait a quarter of an hour or so, then try again. Feeling terribly powerless, she sat on a chair and looked around the room, as if the answer to her troubles might be lurking somewhere.

Her eyes came to rest on the tray that held her luncheon dishes. Usually, it was removed right away, but someone had neglected his duties and hadn’t picked it up.

Isobel looked at the plate. It was made of cracked porcelain, and looked quite old and dingy. But perhaps it could be more than that. She wanted to laugh at herself for not thinking of it before.

She picked it up and hit it against the side of the table. The plate broke into a few pieces that fell to the floor, and consequently broke into more. Reaching down, Isobel picked up one that was long and sharp, like an oddly shaped knife. She ripped some of her underskirt and wrapped it around the end, making a handle to grip. At any rate, the cloth would protect her hand from the jagged edge.

Lifting her skirt, she tucked the makeshift weapon into the laces that wrapped around the top of her boot.

She arranged it as best she could, and hoped she wouldn’t inadvertently stab herself in the foot.

She picked up the rest of the broken plate and hid the pieces under the lumpy straw mattress of her bunk. As the services she received consisted only of having food brought twice a day, she didn’t think the pirates would be changing her bedding anytime soon. Hopefully, her crime would be well-hidden there.

She waited for more time to elapse, and when she was wringing her hands in frustration, decided she could wait no longer. Armed as well as she could be, Isobel set out on her mission once again.

Walking down the passageway, Isobel tried to look as carefree as possible. She didn’t want to raise any suspicions. The knife she carried made her feel self-conscious, as if it were visible to all, though hidden beneath her skirts.

As she neared the captain’s quarters, she noticed that the man who had previously stood guard outside was nowhere to be seen. Instead of reassuring her about any chance of seeing Captain Worthington, instinct told her this would be worse.

Isobel slowed her pace, listening for any sound beyond the door, when a big dirty hand clamped over her mouth and yanked her around the corner.

“And where d’ye think yer goin’, Missy?” a voice rasped in her ear. Isobel grimaced at the stench of the man’s breath. Strong, beefy arms held her easily and pressed her back against a solid chest. The man’s forearm mashed her breast, and from the way he rubbed his arm against her there, Isobel guessed that the pirate was enjoying it.

Infuriated, Isobel kicked and thrashed about in the man’s iron-hard arms. The pirate only laughed and squeezed her tighter.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now—when Beckett’s life depended on her reaching Captain Worthington!

Using all the willpower she could muster, Isobel sank her teeth into the meaty hand that covered her mouth and bit as hard as she could.

The pirate bellowed and tried to pry her mouth open with his other hand, but Isobel’s jaws held tight. She tasted blood in her mouth, but refused to let the revolting hand go.

The pirate’s hand curled around her neck, and she felt his fingers dig into her flesh.

“Let go, ye bloody bitch!” the man hissed.

“Leave off, Murray!” another voice said. “No marks on ‘er skin, remember? Styles will have yer tongue cut out if ye bruise ‘er.”

“To ‘ell with Styles! Help me get ‘er off,” Murray groaned.

The two men struggled to pry Isobel’s jaws apart. When they finally succeeded, both regarded her with shock. Isobel could feel the warm wet blood running down her chin, and knew she must look quite a sight indeed.

“Me ‘and—look what she done to it, Dobbin!” Murray held his wounded hand as gore dripped from it onto the floor.

“You should have the surgeon look at it.” Isobel spit out some of the blood in her mouth. “While I was on Barbados I contracted a rare disease—Caribbean parrot fever!”

It was a bold-faced lie. There was no such disease as far as she knew. Nonetheless, it had the desired effect.

Murray’s face turned white and he looked at Dobbin accusingly. “Why didn’t you grab ‘er? Now I’ve got ‘Caribbean parrot fever’!”

In truth, Isobel thought she probably had more chance of having contracted a disease from Murray.

“Gag ‘er, and put ‘er in the galley,” Dobbin ordered. “That should keep the baggage out o’ trouble for a time.”

“You gag ‘er, Dobbin! I’ve had me fill o’ bein’ her dinner, thank you very much. The little bitch can take a bite out o’ you.”

“Hold ‘er hands then, and I’ll gag ‘er.”

The men roughly turned Isobel around, and Murray pulled her arms back painfully as Dobbin approached.

Isobel glared at the man. “Fever symptoms can be hideous. It won’t be long now.”

She saw a flicker of fear in the pirate’s eyes and felt a small thrill of victory.

Dobbin bent down and ripped off a piece of her skirt, then stood, twisting it into a coil. Slowly, he brought the gag to her face.

Isobel shook her head like a terrier, but he managed to get it between her teeth and tied it tightly around her head in a secure knot.

She heard another tear of her skirt and soon her hands were bound behind her back, as well. At least Dobbin hadn’t seen the porcelain knife in her boot when he’d ripped her dress. Thank goodness for underskirts!

Roughly, the men dragged Isobel down the narrow passageway and into what was obviously the galley.

She had never seen it before and was surprised at how small and cluttered it was. Everywhere, pots and pans hung from the low ceiling, along with various ladles and other cooking utensils, which all clanged together as the ship rocked.

A galley with no cook? So, the mutiny had begun.

The pirates dragged her over to the table, pushed her down into a sitting position on the floor, then bound her hands to the table leg. Isobel kept her boot hidden under her skirt, but wondered if her makeshift knife would do her any good. With her hands tied behind her, she couldn’t reach it.

Isobel glared up at the pirates, truly wishing that looks could kill. Strangely, the overwhelming emotion she felt was anger, not fear. But that would most likely change when the reality and hopelessness of the situation set in. When she heard the mutiny going on around her, then she would feel fear.

What would happen to her—to Beckett? She hoped that Sir Harry Lennox would be consigned to eternal torment for this!