Baptiste fired a shot out the porthole at Danielle before Grim and Rafe tackled him. They knocked him onto the floor and wrested the pistol away from him. Cade leaped over the fray to try to jump out the window after Danielle. It was no use. He was too large to fit through. He was only able to get his head and one shoulder out, enough to look down and see a shadowy spot growing in the water. It was too dark to tell for certain, but cold nausea gripped him. No doubt it was blood. He clenched his fist and pounded it against the side of the hull, screaming her name. But there was no sign of Danielle.
“No!” he cried in anguish as he turned and ran back through the captain’s cabin, up the ladder, and across the quarterdeck toward the aft where Danielle had jumped. He was vaguely aware of Rafe behind him calling him to stop, but Cade was mindless. He ran past Baptiste’s crew who were sword-fighting Danny and Sean and the other men from his crew. Cade ripped off his leather vest, tossed it to the deck, and vaulted off the side of the ship and into the harbor. He landed with a splash, cutting his knee on a waterlogged piece of debris. An unholy pain ripped through his right leg but he didn’t stop. He sprang to the surface, gasped for air, and turned frantically in all directions. “Danielle!” he cried. “Danielle! Where are you?” It was too dark to see much. He lifted his hand from the water. Blood covered it. It was not his own. “Danielle!” he called again, but silence was his only answer.
* * *
Two hours later, Cade lay in his grand bed back on The Elenor with a broken leg. Sean had set the break by forcing Cade to down a half bottle of whiskey and stuffing a rag in his mouth. The leg was still broken, Cade was not foxed, and the whiskey bottle sat on the table between him and Rafe.
“How does it feel?” Rafe asked, nodding toward Cade’s leg as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his thighs. He was sitting in a chair next to Cade’s bed.
“Hurts like Hades,” Cade muttered.
Rafe scrubbed the back of his arm across his forehead. “You shouldn’t have jumped overboard.”
Cade crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother. “Don’t ever say that to me again. Now, please tell me Baptiste is dead. Or at least beaten within an inch of his godforsaken life.”
Rafe shook his head. “After Danielle jumped and we overpowered Baptiste, Grim took him to the hold while I chased after you. Baptiste was caught so off guard learning he’d let the Black Fox slip through his fingers, he didn’t put up much of a fight. The rest of your crew subdued Baptiste’s men.”
Cade groaned and leaned his head back on the pillow. “So, he’s not dead.”
“No. But along with the English turncoats aboard The French Secret, he will be coming back with us to England to answer to justice. Grimaldi’s packed them all off to his ship.”
Cade’s fist gripped the covers. He nearly ripped them. Danielle was gone. They hadn’t even found her body.
“Don’t worry, Cade,” Rafe continued. “Baptiste will be tried for Danielle’s murder as well. He won’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of his life.”
“It won’t bring her back,” Cade whispered in a rough voice. He struggled to keep his face straight. His leg hurt like bloody hell but his heart hurt worse and his leg would heal someday. He deserved this. The one time he’d actually fallen in love with a woman and she was ripped away from him. He could admit it now that she was gone. He loved her.
“I’m damned sorry.” Rafe hung his head and studied his boots.
“You shouldn’t be. You risked your life,” Cade replied, his mouth dry. “For mine.”
“Of course I did. You’re my brother.”
Was it Cade’s imagination or had Rafe’s voice gone up a bit on that last word? As if it had been difficult to say. Rafe cleared his throat. “You would have done the same for me.”
“I’m no hero,” Cade ground out. He should have downed the entire bottle of whiskey. Unlike the pain in his leg, this pain was too much.
“You could have fooled me,” Rafe replied.
Cade narrowed his eyes on his brother, questioning.
“Grimaldi told me,” Rafe said. “You’ve been working with him since you learned I was captured in France.”
Cade nearly growled. “He had no right to tell you that, but it’s not because—”
“Yes, it is,” Rafe said. “It’s because of me. I know it. Grimaldi confirmed my suspicions. You’ve been working against Baptiste ever since, to avenge me.”
Cade clenched his jaw and glanced away. “Those bastards nearly killed you.”
Rafe shook his head. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me when you came to London. Why did you let me go on thinking you were hardly more than a petty criminal? I’d no idea you were a privateer, working for the War Office.”
Cade’s jaw clenched again. “Would it have made a difference how you felt about me after all these years?”
“Of course it would have, I—”
Cade looked at his brother, allowing the years of hurt and misunderstandings to shine in his eyes. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Rafe scrubbed a hand through his hair and sat up to face him. “Damn it, Cade. Why do you always have to be so contrary? Why can’t you ever let anyone be proud of you?”
Cade shrugged. “Perhaps for the same reason you’ve always done things to make people proud.”
Rafe cursed under his breath. “Which is what reason?”
“Because it’s what’s expected of us. Rafe and Cade, the good son and the bad one, the white sheep and the black, the hero and the ne’er-do-well.”
“Stop it!” Rafe shouted. He jumped to his feet and pounded his fist against the table, making the whiskey bottle jump.
“Why? You don’t want to hear the truth?” Cade let his head fall back against the pillows. He’d saw off his damn leg to escape this room right now.
“It’s not the truth,” Rafe argued. “It’s nonsense. It’s—”
“Mother told me it was true,” Cade said softly, staring down at the sheets that rested over his legs. They were only a green blur.
Rafe shook his head. “No.”
“It’s true. I heard her. One day she asked me, ‘Why can’t you be more like Rafe?’”
“What did you say?” Rafe’s lips formed a tight white line across his face.
“I said, ‘Why can’t you be more like Rafe and stand up to Father?’”
“No.” Rafe pressed the back of his wrist to his mouth as if he might throw up.
“Yes,” Cade replied. His brother had to finally hear the truth. “That was the day I left. I had nothing more to say to her.”
Cade scratched savagely at his bandaged head, welcoming the physical pain.
“You left me, too, you know,” Rafe said. “You didn’t even say good-bye.”
Cade pulled the whiskey bottle from the tabletop, pulled off the stopper, and took a healthy swig. If he was going to continue this conversation, he needed more to drink. “I asked Mother to say good-bye to you for me.”
Rafe hung his head. His words were low, angry. “She didn’t.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Rafe lifted his head to look at his brother. “She thought you were coming back. She used to ask me to leave a candle lit for you. We kept it lit for years.”
“I had no intention of returning ever,” Cade admitted, taking another swig. He’d need another bottle before this conversation was through.
“I didn’t blame you. I never blamed you for leaving,” Rafe said, his words holding an edge.
“I did.” Those were two of the hardest words he’d ever spoken. The hardest and the most truthful.
“Why?” Rafe pressed his knuckles against his forehead. “I know how miserable you were there.”
Cade took a third swig and winced when he wiped his hand against the back of his raw mouth. “I’ve hated myself every day since.”
Rafe held out his hand for the whiskey. “You shouldn’t have. You did what was right … for yourself.”
Cade handed him the bottle. The dark liquid sloshed as he delivered it to his brother. “You stayed. You were the hero.”
“I stayed,” Rafe ground out, taking a long swig. “I stayed like a martyr. I did what I thought I had to and so did you.”
“I suppose that makes some sort of sense.” Cade sighed, his hands falling uselessly to his lap. “Thank you.”
Rafe nodded and took another long drink. “Promise me something.”
Cade didn’t look at him. “What?”
Rafe’s voice was solid, sure. “Promise me that you’ll never again forget that you’re my brother, that you’re not alone, and that you have family.”
Cade nodded once. “I’ll never forget.” He waited for Rafe to hand him the bottle and took a final swig. “Danielle told me her fondest wish when she was a child was to have a sister. I suppose if I’ve been given a brother—and such a handsome devil at that”—he cracked a grin—“that I shouldn’t take my time with him for granted.”
Rafe grinned, too. “I promise the same.” He took a deep breath. “I’m damn sorry about Dani—”
“Don’t,” Cade warned.
Rafe merely nodded.
Feeling warm inside from something other than the whiskey, Cade reached out to shake his brother’s hand. Rafe leaned down to the bed and pulled Cade into an embrace. Cade clapped him on the back. Both men were choked up when, seconds later, Rafe left go and stepped away.
“Now,” Cade said. “Let’s see about getting back home.”