“She’s hurt,” said Edmund, crouching beside the marks in the sand. He traced his fingers through the long trails, ruminating. “Looks like she dragged herself.”
William scrunched, then flexed his blistered hands, a restless energy coursing through his veins. “How do you know it’s Maddie? And not a tar?”
Edmund pointed up ahead. “Small footsteps there. Feminine.” He edged closer to the prints. “Two sets. Someone helped her.”
“Or abducted her,” he gritted, his heart thundering.
The island was probably teeming with pirates. William grabbed the knife tucked into the waistband of his trousers and followed the footprints toward the jungle.
His brother lingered, gazing across the sea, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine his torturous thoughts. William suffered them, too.
“She’s alive, Eddie” he assured him, referring to his brother’s wife. “They’re all alive.”
Edmund turned back to him, nodding. “I know. I trust James. He’ll protect her, all of them, with his life.”
“He will.”
Of that, at least, William was sure.
“This way,” said Edmund, taking the lead.
He scrutinized the broken palms, locating a trail. He was in his element as an investigator, thought William, grateful for his help. All of his brothers had found their true callings. William just hadn’t realized how well their new lives suited them until now, when their combined skills as hunters and healers were fully brought to light.
Edmund stilled. “There was a struggle.”
“What?”
“Here,” said Edmund, scouring the terrain. “Several men took her.” He quickly found an abandoned, shabby-looking sack. “And the one who helped her.” Rifling through the sack, he removed small articles of clothing. “A boy.”
William tightened his grip on the knife, blood roaring in his ears. “Head back to camp,” he ordered. “Gather the crew, all fit men, and as many weapons as you can find. Come after me. I’ll follow the trail.”
“Alone?”
“I have to go after her now.”
“You’re outnumbered and poorly armed.”
“I can’t wait.” He started through the jungle. “If they hurt her . . .”
“But—”
“That’s an order, lieutenant!”
“Aye, Captain.”
He heard his brother’s compliance at the back of his mind as the two separated: Edmund to fetch reinforcements, and William to slit the throat of any man who laid a hand on his wife.
~ * ~
Madeline sat on the dirt floor of a hut, her wrists bound to a wood post. The boy was fastened to it, as well, and together they endured the discomfort, positioned back to back.
A breeze spiraled into the room through the open door, cooling her fevered flesh. Her heart had not stopped hammering since the abduction. She scanned the pirate camp outside, noted the sloop moored in the secluded bay, the jolly roger raised and flickering in the wind. An ideal hiding place, she thought with a measure of panic. But William would come for her. If he’d survived . . .
No. He had survived the wreck. And he would come for her. She believed in miracles. She had already found the pirates holding her grandfather hostage. Or they had found her, to be accurate. But where was her grandfather? Had something happened to him before she’d reached the island? And where was William? His crew? James?
Where was her miracle?
“Looking for someone?”
She’d tried her damnedest to ignore the black devil, seated in a wicker chair, arms folded across his chest, boots planted on a stool. She sensed his predatory gaze on her and shuddered in disgust.
The boy squeezed her hand, and she remembered she was not alone. She had to protect the lad. She had to locate her grandfather. And as soon as William came for her, she had to get the hell off the island.
But she couldn’t let the pirate lord know her true identity, that she was the granddaughter of his captive, Sir Richard McNeal. The devil would expect the ten-thousand-pound ransom—which she hadn’t brought.
Curse the storm! If it hadn’t interfered with her journey, she’d be aboard the Nemesis right now, rescuing her grandfather, safe at her husband’s side.
“I’m looking for my husband,” she answered primly, warning him she was a married woman, not a whore for sale.
The boy stiffened.
The pirate offered a smirk. “Husband, eh?”
“Captain William Hawkins of the Royal Navy.”
The navy was the bane of every pirat, she thought, hoping to frighten the black devil and secure their releases.
The pirate lord appeared thoughtful. “Hawkins?”
He had heard of her husband? Splendid! “Aye, Captain Hawkins.”
He suddenly spat on the ground.
She jerked at the unexpected movement.
“I despise the Royal Navy.” He lifted his boots from the stool, leaning toward her. “What is the fucking navy doing on my little island?”
With his black beard and livid blue eyes, he looked like a fallen angel—ready to break her neck. She found it hard to breathe and straightened her spine, but her bust lifted, too, attracting his loathsome attention.
“Not yet, sweetheart.”
She quickly hunched her shoulders.
He got off the wicker chair so fast, it smashed to the ground. Crouching at her side, he snarled, “The navy, bitch. What is she doing here?”
The boy struggled at her backside.
The pirate smacked him upside the head. “Quiet, boy!”
The resounding “whack” across the boy’s skull made her wince with pain—and her blood boil with rage.
“Coward,” she whispered.
She could feel his breath on her skin. “What was that?”
Slowly she turned her head sidelong ’til their noses were level. “I called you a coward.”
There was something about the shade of his cruel eyes that evoked familiarity, and for a moment, she thought she had met him before that day.
“Who are you?” she wondered.
“A coward,” he said in a tight vein.
“What is your name?”
His fingers slithered up her throat, stroking her. “I have no name.” He admired her a moment, tracing his knuckle over her chin. “I like your spirit, lass. You’ll fetch me a good sum at the market.”
“What market?” she rasped.
“The flesh market, of course.” He dropped his hand, glaring at her. “This boy you’re so eager to protect cost me ten thousand pounds.”
She gasped. The same amount as the ransom?
“How?” she demanded.
“He released my captive: an old lord worth a great sum.”
Her grandfather? The boy had saved her grandfather? Her grandfather was alive!
Madeline stifled the storm of emotions swelling in her breast. If she shed a single tear or trembled in any way, she’d stoke the pirate’s suspicions even more.
In a flat voice, she said, “A pity.”
“For you, aye. I should salvage most of what I lost with you, sweetheart.” His fingers reached for her throat again, but this time his grip wasn’t gentle; he pinched her airway. “I’ll ask one last time. What is the navy doing here?”
She croaked, “We washed ashore during the storm.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.” His grip tightened. “Try again, sweetheart, before I crush your gullet.”
“My husband’s really more of a privateer,” she wheezed next, about to black out.
But then she sighted a flash of light. At first, she thought it a glimmering image of heaven, but when the black devil released her throat, and her starved lungs expanded with air, she focused on the light again—and found it a reflection off a steel blade.
A bruised hand held the knife firmly against the pirate’s neck, so tight in fact, blood seeped from the wound already forming.
Madeline, still dazed, followed the battered hand to its arm and shoulder, and her eyes welled with tears at the brilliant sight of William.
“Get away from my wife,” came the lethal order.
With his hair twisted in William’s grip and his jugular exposed, the black devil had no choice but to obey the command. He lifted his arms in surrender and eased to his feet, slowly backing away from her—though his cruel gaze never left her face.
“Fire!” hollered the other pirates. “Fire, Captain!”
Madeline glanced out the door and noticed the smoke wafting from the sloop.
“You set my ship on fire?” the brigand growled.
“A necessary distraction,” from William.
As the sailors dashed toward the burning sloop, the camp cleared.
William quickly divested the pirate captain of his many weapons, tossing them to the ground. A short blade landed right beside her hands.
“Cut yourself free, Maddie,” he instructed, still keeping the pirate’s throat in check.
Though her hands were numb, Madeline sawed at the rope with all her might. The boy took the blade from her after a while and finished the job, the last knot finally snapping away.
Such blessed relief, she thought, rubbing her aching arms and wrists. Blood pooled back into her extremities, and though her feet and hands prickled with the sensation of stabbing pins, she still wobbled to a stand.
The boy snatched a pistol from the floor and aimed it at the pirate. Madeline armed herself with another, giving William the opportunity to push the corsair against the wood post and lash him to it.
But before he looped the final knot, the pirate revealed a hidden leather strap around his wrist, tucked under his shirt.
“William!” she cried. “Look out!”
But the brigand was too quick. He swiped the concealed blade from his wrist—and shoved it into William’s belly.
Madeline screamed.
William staggered, then dropped to his knees, griping the handle, stunned, as blood pooled around his fingers.
She kneeled behind him, cradling his head as he toppled to the ground. “Oh, God! No!”
His lashes flickered. Blood seeped from the deep wound in his gut . . . and soon from the corner of his lips.
As she sobbed, the black devil shook the loosened rope off his hands and bounded toward the boy, knocking him aside and reclaiming his pistol.
He aimed it at William.
Madeline quickly lifted her gun, shooting first, but the wayward bullet hit the wall, her hand trembling, her eyes blinded with tears.
The fiend aimed again . . . when a shadow loomed over the hut, engulfing the entire structure. The panicked shouts from the other pirates also captured the blackguard’s notice, and he glanced outside, his eyes widening as the Bonny Meg entered the bay, all twenty of her cannons aimed at the camp.
After a moment of hesitation, the pirate captain released a slew of curses and headed for the door, but he paused in the frame, his gaze on fire, his expression clear: you will pay for this.
Then he disappeared into the jungle.
Madeline dropped the pistol. The boy crouched beside her, covering her husband’s gushing wound with a cloth he’d found, stymieing the blood flow.
“William,” she whispered, her voice haggard.
“Maddie,” he rasped.
She lowered her head and kissed him, his lips already growing cold, and her heart twisted with unbearable anguish. “I’m not ready to say farewell, luv.”
She would never be prepared to say goodbye, to part from him forever, but she also hadn’t expected his demise to be so soon. Or so violent.
“Shhh,” he soothed, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, holding her close. “It’s better this way, Maddie. I . . . I always wanted to go like this, in battle.”
“But what will I do without you?”
His beautiful blue eyes turned glassy with tears. “Live,” he pressed her. “Live for me. Oh, Christ.” He grimaced. “I wish . . . I wish I had met you sooner. I wish I had lived sooner. These last two months . . . Maddie, thank you.” His color paled. As he weakened, his hand slipped from her neck, and he whispered, “I love you,” before he went still, so very still.
“William?” Her voice cracked, “William, please, don’t go.”
Captain James Hawkins soon entered the hut, flanked by his younger brothers, Edmund and Quincy. Their sister, Belle, and her husband were not far behind, and Madeline shuddered with relief to learn the family and crew had survived the storm . . . all except for William.
“H-he’s dying, James,” she stuttered, a numbness coming over her. “My husband’s dying.”
Quincy quickly took the boy’s place at William’s side and peeled back the blood-soaked cloth to examine the knife wound. The blade still embedded in his brother’s innards, Quincy features fell. “I can’t help him.”
Quiet followed his hopeless remark.
“He’s already lost too much blood,” said Quincy, his voice wavering. “And if I extract the knife, it will only hasten his death. He’ll bleed out even faster.”
Edmund dropped next to his brother, Belle followed suit. The somber air in the room was stifling, making it hard for Madeline to breathe. She both gasped and sobbed at the unbelievable realization: there was no miracle.
She crumpled over her husband, bussed his sweet lips again and again, holding him until he took his last, struggling breath.
James remained standing, stone hard, fisting and unfisting his hands. “Who did this, Maddie?”
“The pirate captain,” she whimpered. “When your ship appeared in the bay, he ran into the jungle.”
James roared orders to his crew, demanding they search the island for the elusive cutthroat. “We’ll find him. And then I’ll kill him.”
The boy suddenly tugged on James’s arm.
“Who the devil are you?”
Madeline pleaded, “Be kind, James. The boy saved my grandfather’s life. He released him from captivity. Oh, God! My poor grandfather. He’s somewhere on the island, too.”
James issued another order to locate the old man.
But the boy seemed frantic, still pulling on James’s arm.
“What, damnit?”
As the boy motioned for James to drop his ear, the surly captain growled before lowering his head, but whatever the lad had whispered turned the captain’s face a burning red.
“Don’t tell tales, boy.” And he boxed his ear, good and hard. “A man’s dying.”
The youth rubbed his sore ear, then kicked James in the shin. Cursing, James hunched forward, and the boy again flooded the captain’s ear with a calliopean of frantic words. Madeline wasn’t able to decipher them, but when the captain’s expression changed, even lightened, her heart pounded with renewed vigor—and hope.
“What is it?” she demanded. “What did he say, James?”
After a thoughtful pause, James ordered, “Fetch that blanket, Quincy.”
Quincy snatched the cotton sheet and draped it over William.
“No,” snapped James. “Lay it on the ground and place William over it.”
Quincy wrinkled his brow. “Why?”
“We’re taking him into the jungle.”
“Are you mad, James? If we move him, he’ll die even sooner.”
“I know.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?” shouted Quincy.
“I haven’t a fucking idea!” he thundered in return. “Just pick him up. And follow the boy.”