Chapter 12
Rory picked at his ham glumly, half-listening to Fatty and Dougal recount their battle with the pirates and the storms. He couldn’t concentrate on anything they said, however, nor could he even look at them for very long. It was partly sorrow and guilt at abandoning them but it was mostly Bridget. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her for more than a few seconds without them being dragged back.
He should have been furious with her for not taking him back to Scotland, but what really made his blood boil was that she didn’t think twice about not including him in her plans.
He was positive they were mad plans he didn’t want any part of, especially since they’d be funded by stolen money, but he couldn’t help prickling with anger that she wouldn’t even ask him. After all they’d been through, he at least wanted to be able to proudly and disdainfully refuse her offer.
As she sipped her wine, she caught his eye over the rim of the glass and he felt his face heat up, quickly turning away from that bewitching gaze. If only she wasn’t so pretty and soft. Her skin at least, if not her heart. Her heart was as hard and cold as the ice that flashed in her eyes when she continued to stare at him. He couldn’t help it, he had to have another dip in those icy pools. He looked up, feeling all his disdainful resolve melting away, for now she seared him with a hot look, even going so far as to daintily dart her tongue out to catch a drop of wine that beaded on her lower lip.
How he hated himself for wanting to lunge across the table and kiss those lips and how he hated himself for his weakness. Just these very thoughts he was having might be damning Lachlan’s wife to a certain death. But try as he might, he could not hate Bridget. All he could do was try and stop wanting her so badly. With all the force of his resolve, he managed to turn away from her and focus on Dougal.
“... and then shortly after the pirate captain ordered his crew to start dragging away our men, I was blasted in the side of the head by a musket and fell behind the ropes.” He waved his hand around what was left of his bandaged ear. “They must have been in a hurry or I must have been bleeding enough for them to think I was a goner, because they didna take me along with them.”
“And when he woke up, he came and rescued me from the galley,” Fatty added, chomping into a buttered roll. “I was—”
“Wait a tick,” Rory interrupted. “Dougal, did ye say the men were dragged away? To where?”
“It was across the plank separating out ships. They were tying ropes around their waists so they wouldna fall over.”
“Prisoners, ye think?” Rory asked, getting excited enough to push his chair away from the table. “How many?”
“All the ones who didna get killed,” Dougal said, screwing up his brow. “Eight, I’d guess. I know I saw Argus and Hamish because the lad was blubbering and they poked him a fair bit. I was fighting at the time so I canna say more for certain.”
Rory stood up, bubbling with fresh hope for his men. “If they took the trouble to tie them so they wouldna fall over, then perhaps they were going to ransom them,” he said as he walked around the table, clapping Dougal and Fatty on their shoulders. “Our mates lived through the battle, lads. They may yet still be alive and on that treacherous ship.”
Bridget snorted with disbelief, but Dougal nodded. “Or it could be they might have conscripted them to take the places of the ones we did manage to dispatch to hell. What are ye thinking, Captain?”
Rory had made it back to his seat but stood behind it, too worked up to sit. He saw Bridget get an alarmed look on her face when Dougal used his erstwhile title. He’d almost forgotten himself that he was a captain, a man in charge. He narrowed his eyes at Bridget, not wanting to be rid of her and simultaneously knowing he had to be if he was to get on with his life. Here he’d been thinking he was so noble now, all because he’d selflessly saved Catie’s life. He’d turned his nose up at Bridget’s stolen money, but hadn’t he been out on the high seas trying to steal some himself? Continuing to be noble wasn’t going to get his men back.
“I’m thinking we need to try and launch a rescue mission, is what I’m thinking,” Rory finally said. “With this sleek boat we could easily sneak up on them and pull them off, the same as when we nabbed Catie and Oliver.”
Dougal clapped his hands together but Fatty choked on his bread. “Er, Captain, that’s a noble thought, but Catie and Oliver were on a passenger ship, not a ship full of ruthless murderers.”
Bridget shoved her chair back and stood, slamming her hands on the table. She leaned forward and glared at each of them in turn.
“First of all, there’s already a captain on this vessel and it isna Rory here. And ye certainly dinna have a sleek boat to do any sneaking up on anyone. This is my ship. Ye’ll be dropped at the first port as I told ye already.”
Rory frowned and moved to stand closer to her, angling himself behind. It should have frightened her, should have made her twist around in case she possibly needed to defend herself. But he knew how fearless she was and she stayed locked in her stance, trying to stare down Dougal and Fatty.
Both his men glanced up at him and he patted his side. Fatty looked nervous but twitched his head in a slight nod. Dougal grinned widely, as ready for mayhem as always. Rory offered a silent apology to the back of Bridget’s glossy black head. And then pulled out his gun and aimed it at her.
“I do beg your pardon,” he said, already feeling the old glee he used to feel back when it was all just a game. Before he lost everything. Now he had a chance to get it back again. A chance to save some of his men and avenge the ones who were lost.
Bridget whirled around and blinked to find herself face to barrel with his gun. “What do ye think ye’re doing, Rory?” she demanded. The flash of hurt he saw cross her face almost made him lower the weapon and try to convince her to help him instead of using force. But then she arranged her lovely face into a sneer of contempt. “Do ye even have any bullets for that daft, old-fashioned thing?”
He sighed, wishing for once she would be reasonable. He supposed it was unreasonable of him to wish such a thing, since she never had been before. Dougal stood and pulled a long, serrated blade from the back of his borrowed trousers.
“Thought I might need to bring this aboard,” he said, sauntering to Bridget’s side and waving it in her face. “Just in case Rory might have run out of ammunition.”
She sighed and sat back down. “What then? What do you expect to happen now? There’s three of ye, more like two and half, no disrespect to Fatty. And ye’ve one gun and a knife between ye.”
Rory laughed, only wishing he could put on the old feathered hat he’d loved so much. He’d be sure to take the other pirate captain’s hat after he ran him through.
“But we’ve got this ship,” he said, smiling at her. “And the gold ye stole from your husband. I suspect we can buy all the weapons we need and hire some more men when we drop ye and your crew at the nearest port.”