Chapter 6

 

It was dusk, and difficult to see very far, even with a glass. After patrolling the Mediterranean Sea for more than a week, Nathaniel was ready to give up. No Greystone ships were to be found. The message Rat had delivered must have been garbled, or the schedule of shipments altered. Either scenario was entirely possible.

Nathaniel strode to the wheel. “Tack to the east and make another pass. If we don’t find anything, we’ll head back come morning,” he told the ship’s navigator.

The boat shifted as his instructions were carried out, and the Vengeance’s course was set for another sweeping circle. They moved at a moderate speed, sails billowing like huge pillows in the sky, while Nathaniel watched the sun melt into the water.

The color of the ocean darkened to inky black, mirroring the stars that began to shine overhead, and he thought he would never leave the sea. It was the mother he never knew, his teacher, his healer, his friend.

“Are we going to head back?” Trenton came to stand beside his captain, and Nathaniel’s eyes shifted to his friend’s face.

“Aye. I thought it strange that a ship of my father’s would put in at a Russian port. Although England has yet to declare war, it is only a matter of time. Soon English ships will no longer be allowed in Russian ports like those of neutrals.”

“Ever since the Russians destroyed the Turkish squadron at Sinope last November, war has been inevitable,” Trenton agreed, propping himself against the railing. “England can hardly allow her ally to sustain such aggression without some kind of support. If Czar Nicholas takes Constantinople, he’ll control the overland route to India.”

“Regardless of our allies, England could never stand for that.” Nathaniel sighed, watching the dim shadow of Garth climb about the rigging, trimming and adjusting the sails. “My father has eluded us, this time. But there will be other opportunities.”

“Do you think he purposely leaked faulty information?”

“Perhaps.”

“Is Rat in league with Greystone?”

“No, he wouldn’t have placed his life in our hands if he were. I think the schedule was altered after we received our information. If my father was wise, he would make more last-minute changes.”

Trenton grunted, then moved away as Nathaniel looked heavenward.

If only life could be so peaceful, Nathaniel thought, his mind once again returning to his half sister. After the day he had almost kissed her, he had ordered a hammock strung in his cabin. He slept there himself, giving Anne the bed. He’d offered no explanation, nor could he think of a good one. Nathaniel only knew that he avoided any contact with her because the test he had given her had backfired. He had meant to finally put his mind to rest concerning her identity. But that was hardly the outcome of their brief encounter. Now touching her was what he craved most.

He pictured her long blond tresses curling down around her face, her large green eyes gazing up at him with their thick, sooty lashes, and couldn’t help but smile. She was beautiful. And stubborn. And courageous. And so damn tempting that sometimes he couldn’t sleep for listening to her every movement in the bed.

Nathaniel swore. How could a man desire his own sister? It wasn’t natural. But there were times when he wanted to caress her tenderly, to protect her from the world, and to his utter mortification, feel her soft flesh beneath him.

He had to think of a way to rescue Richard, he decided, and rid himself of Anne at the earliest opportunity.

* * *

At dawn Alexandra braved the sailors and the chill air to visit the deck. She stood near the bulwarks, gazing out to sea, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility.

Though the sun peeked over the horizon, the water was still dark and glassy, with occasional white foaming waves that splashed high into the air. The sight captivated her. She had not seen its equal for beauty. But even the prospect of such a spectacular view had not been the reason Alexandra had left the cabin and risked running into Rat again. Nathaniel was. He had washed, shaved, and brushed his teeth before leaving their cabin only moments before, and she had followed him.

What was it about him, she thought irritably, that made her listen for his step at the door, hear his voice amid the hum of many others? He was a blackguard.

He looked dangerous, stealthy, full of grace and power. Yet he was not like the usual ruffian. No common slang marred his speech, and an air of authority, even magnetism, flowed from him. Alexandra could hardly keep her eyes on the splendor before her, knowing that he stood nearby.

“...we’ll stop there next trip...”

She enjoyed the rich timbre of his voice as she listened to him talk to Garth somewhere behind her, and she thought about the fabric she had found in his trunk. She longed to create something with it, but the garment that kept coming to mind was none other than a full dress shirt for the pirate captain himself, which made no sense at all. Why would she want to please him? Or was it simply that his physique so easily lent itself to the creation of beauty?

Alexandra allowed herself a sidelong glance at Nathaniel, then felt the blood rise in her cheeks when she found him watching her. She looked quickly back to the east, trying to ignore him, but a moment later he came to stand beside her.

“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” she asked, growing uncomfortable when he didn’t speak.

“Only you,” he said.

Startled, Alexandra looked up into his face. She expected him to turn his words into some kind of a taunt, but he looked in earnest.

“I’ve done everything I can do to improve this dress with my needle,” she said, unsure how to respond to the compliment. “Washing it in seawater has all but ruined it and makes me itch like mad.”

“I could lend you something else, but I doubt my clothes would do justice to your form.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow, remembering her part as Lady Anne. “Wear men’s clothing? Never.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t give you a choice. It’s foolish to be so uncomfortable.”

John interrupted them then, and Nathaniel excused himself. Striding off to settle some issue between the cook and the purser, he left Alexandra to puzzle over his unpredictable behavior. She never knew what to expect from him.

She lingered on the deck until the sun grew bright and full, then went below to find a hip bath sitting in the middle of the floor.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, rushing over to feel the water. It was fresh, and warm as well. She longed to rid her body of the salt that made her skin miserably dry, but a knock interrupted her before she could remove her clothes.

“Come in,” Alexandra called, afraid to turn her head away from the bath for fear it would disappear.

Charlie, the ship’s cook, entered. He carried a pail of water, his frown so deep it reminded Alexandra of the lines on the face of a wooden puppet.

“As if the captain doesn’t bathe enough already,” he grumbled, eyeing her resentfully. “Now we got to be haulin’ water for the enemy’s kin. But I ain’t never ‘ad to heat it before.”

The buxom woman tattooed on Charlie’s arm danced as he poured the water out of his pail, and Alexandra suppressed a giggle of delight, unaffected by the cook’s displeasure. She couldn’t imagine what had motivated Nathaniel to provide her with such a rare treat, but at that moment she could have kissed his feet.

“That’s the last of it,” Charlie muttered as he left.

“Thank you.” Alexandra twirled in circles once the door closed behind him. She’d had nothing but sponge baths for a week and was anxious to enjoy the real thing—until she remembered that the cabin door had no lock. Nathaniel had had it removed before she ever boarded the Vengeance, refusing her the option of locking it against him. Now Alexandra feared he, or someone else, might interrupt her.

Letting her fingers dangle, she felt the water quickly losing its precious heat.

She couldn’t waste such a luxury, she reasoned. Charlie had gone to a great deal of trouble, and fresh water was too precious aboard a ship.

Retrieving the cake of soap from the washstand and setting it within easy reach of the bath, she undid the myriad of tiny buttons that descended from her collar to her waist. The gown fell past her hips to the floor. She laid it across the bed, then hurriedly removed her undergarments and stepped in.

“Ohhhh,” she groaned, hunching down until the water rose up to her neck. Sinking beneath it, she scrubbed her head, then lathered her body.

Once clean, Alexandra lingered, unwilling to get out until the water’s heat had completely dissipated—or she turned into a prune, which happened sooner than she would have liked. Rising, she felt the chill of the drafty cabin as she began to dry off.

No sooner had she wrapped the towel around herself than Nathaniel opened the door.

“I’m sorry. I thought I had given you ample time—” He stopped as his gaze traveled from the top of Alexandra’s wet head to her cleavage, over the round curve of her hips and down to her bare calves and feet. Instead of turning away with a mumbled apology as a gentleman surely would have, he stared at her with such hunger that she wondered if she might be his next meal.

Instinctively she raised her hands to shield her breasts from his view, then realized they were covered already.

“I—I—” Her words died at the passion in his eyes. Tearing her own gaze from Nathaniel’s face, she turned away, and when she looked back over her shoulder, he was gone.

That night Nathaniel came in late. Alexandra heard him strip in the dark and get into the cold bath and scrub his hair. Silently she rolled over in the bed to see if she could catch a glimpse of his muscular torso, but the moonlight filtering in through the porthole was too dim. She could only hear his movements and smell the soap he lathered over his body.

In her imagination, it was her fingers that moved over his skin, not his own. She felt every ripple of muscle, the thickness of his hair, the straightness of his back, the broadness of his shoulders...

Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? Dreaming of Nathaniel was madness. He was a criminal. She was his captive. Yet the moment he stepped from the bath, she pictured the water running off his wide chest and down over his long legs.

She knew when he finally dressed and got into his hammock. And she continued to hear every move he made for hours afterward.

* * *

At dawn, when the first rays of the sun streaked across the sky like long, purple fingers, Nathaniel was already on deck. He had left Anne sleeping, curled into a tight ball. She had stirred often in the night, and once had even whimpered. He knew because he hadn’t slept himself. He’d tossed and turned, unable to get the vision of her wrapped in that towel out of his mind, especially considering she was little more than an arm’s distance away. She was going to drive him mad if he didn’t get rid of her soon.

Charlie gave him a mug of tea. Nathaniel wrapped his hand around the warm cup, then called to his navigator to see how they were progressing on their return to London. Some of his crew moved sluggishly about the rigging, adjusting the sails and checking the rope as he took a sip of the hot brew.

“Ahoy, Captain,” John called. He had the early watch and sat on the fore-topgallant yard, looking out. “Vessel on the windward side.”

Nathaniel handed his unfinished tea back to Charlie. “Can you see the flag?”

Charlie took the cup as a toothless grin split his face. “You think that be the one?”

Nathaniel didn’t answer. He had expected to find his father’s ship closer to the Crimea, but perhaps it had been delayed. He began shouting orders, getting the crew ready just in case.

“The flag! Can you make out the flag?” Nathaniel prompted as John continued to squint through the glass without responding.

“Aye. She’s English all right.”

“And?”

Those crew members who had been lingering in their bunks now flooded the deck.

“‘Tis the Eastern Horizon.”

A chorus of approval broke from the men as Nathaniel sought out his first mate. Trenton stood on the quarterdeck, where he had been testing the wind and searching the skies for any sign of a storm.

“We’re in luck,” Trenton called, making his way toward Nathaniel. “If the weather holds. But Captain Montague was no pushover when we met him last. I wonder how he’ll react in a second go-round.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “You’d think that with as many ships as my father owns, we wouldn’t have to take the same one twice, at least not so soon. But Montague won’t put up much of a fight, not with Anne on board.”

“Do think your father realizes that we’ve taken her to sea with us?”

“Where else would we take her? Besides, doubt alone should be enough to forestall him, and if not, Montague understands the rules of the game. He knows we won’t harm his crew. Maybe he’ll be more cooperative this time.”

“I wouldn’t bet my life on it,” Trenton retorted.

Facing the black speck he now knew to be one of his father’s ships, Nathaniel shouted, “Full press sail. Chase her down. But be careful,” he added. “There’s no telling what new defense they might manage. We will come as no surprise to Montague.”

* * *

When the Eastern Horizon spotted the pirate ship, her captain turned her around and tried to run. It was not a wise decision, Nathaniel thought. She was so laden with cargo that she moved like a tugboat in the choppy water while his sleek, fast-cutting clipper fairly flew toward her. By the time the merchant brig was positioned for a fight, the Vengeance was little more than half a mile away.

Taking his own glass, Nathaniel climbed the mast. He was amazed to see almost forty men crawling about the deck of the Horizon, preparing shot for the ship’s four short carronades, a smaller and lighter version of regular cannons. “Take cover!” he barked. “They mean to fight.”

Seconds later the sound of cannon fire erupted, followed by the splash of shot plunging into the sea less than five feet off their bow. The Vengeance keeled slightly to leeward as it rode the resulting swell before answering with a burst of her own guns. Then both ships tried to position and reload for another round.

“Quickly, quickly,” Nathaniel prodded, sliding down to the deck. If they could get off a round before the Horizon, it might intimidate the brig’s crew, he thought. By no means did he want a prolonged fight.

“And... fire!” Nathaniel yelled the words only seconds before a second blast told him the Horizon had done the same. He braced for possible impact, knowing the small size of his ship was in his favor. He hoped it would be enough. No heavy cargo impaired the Vengeance’s movements, but Nathaniel was fighting four guns with only three—one long, thirty-two-pound swivel cannon amidships, and two brass guns.

“What’s happening?” Anne stumbled out onto the deck, struggling to keep her feet amid the violent rocking of the ship. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the Eastern Horizon and its guns, still smoking from its last volley. “They’re going to sink us!”

“Not if we get them first,” Garth grumbled from where he worked to clean a cannon muzzle of any remaining powder so he could reload.

“Go back to the cabin,” Nathaniel called, intercepting her before she could stray too far from the hatch. “It’s not safe up here.”

“Is it any safer below?”

Nathaniel could tell Anne was terrified. She glanced around as though in disbelief, but he had no time to calm her. “Go! Hurry!”

Another blast of shot sent the ship reeling, and Anne nearly fell back through the hatch. Only Nathaniel’s sure legs and quick reaction saved her. He reached out, holding her upright until she regained her balance. “Now go,” he insisted, “before you get hurt.”

Anne coughed on the acrid smoke that now concealed most of the deck, and turned back. To reassure himself of her safety, Nathaniel watched her go, wondering about the captain of the Eastern Horizon. The son of a passionate Frenchman and a cool English mother, Montague had fought better than expected the first time they had met. But he was proving more stubborn now, despite Anne’s presence.

What could possibly be so valuable that Greystone would risk her life to save it? Pride sometimes made a man do foolish things, but Nathaniel couldn’t fathom the duke firing upon his own daughter. For any reason. By all accounts, he doted on the offspring of his second marriage.

The same doubt that had flickered in Nathaniel’s mind since he had seen the calluses on Anne’s hands made him scowl. What if they had the wrong girl? What if Trenton was mistaken, the story Anne told them about being a needlewoman, true? Too many things didn’t make sense. The duke never responded to their offer to trade for Richard. Of course, his father had thought he had them regardless. But now one of Greystone’s ships fired upon them with seemingly no regard for Anne’s safety.

Fresh anger boiled within Nathaniel, making him more determined than ever to win the private war that raged between him and his father. If it was Anne with whom he’d shared his cabin these ten days past, his father was more despicable than Nathaniel had ever dreamed. And if it wasn’t, if Anne had somehow escaped unscathed, Nathaniel vowed that the Eastern Horizon would not be so lucky. He would take her for Richard.

Trenton approached, shaking his head. “They’re digging in, Captain. I think we can win the fight eventually, but we might end up sinking her in the process. How badly do you want this ship? It could get bloody.”

Staring at the Horizon, Nathaniel mulled over Trenton’s statement. He wanted the ship, more to discover his father’s purpose in sailing her than for any other reason. But he had no desire to kill innocent men or to sink a perfectly good brig.

“There’s no need to waste lives.” He squinted across the distance. “We’ll make as though we’re hit and pull away. Then we’ll follow at a safe distance and surprise Montague and his crew again before dark.”

Trenton whistled. “That kind of thinking is why you’re captain and I’m not.”

“Trenton?”

Nathaniel’s first mate turned back.

“How sure are you about Anne?”

Trenton shook his head, then spat. “If you would have asked me yesterday, I would have bet my life that we had our girl. I still think she could be none other. She looks like the woman I saw four years ago. And we all watched her go into Madame Fobart’s.”

“Still, I have a feeling—”

“Are you sure it’s not just wishful thinking?” Trenton cocked an eyebrow at his captain. “I’ve seen the way your gaze trails after her, and I don’t mind telling you that it’s got me a little nervous. She can be nothing but trouble for you, Nathaniel.”

“You’ve no need to warn me. I’m not some love-smitten boy, unfamiliar with the realities of life.”

Trenton stared at him for a moment. “Whatever you say,” he replied, and went to deliver the necessary orders.

* * *

Alexandra paced Nathaniel’s cabin, out of her mind with fear long after the explosions had ceased. The duke would stop at nothing to kill Nathaniel and his men. As pirates, their fate would not be undeserved. But what about her? Nathaniel assumed she brought them some kind of insurance she did not. And he was risking their lives based on that assumption. She had to convince him of the truth, for his own sake as well as hers.

Nathaniel’s step outside the cabin made Alexandra bite her lip. He was coming. Now was her chance. She rushed to the portal and flung the door wide, but it was not Nathaniel who approached. It was Rat.

“There’s the fair maiden,” he mocked, putting up a hand to block the door when she tried to shut it. “I guess yer father cares more for the money in ‘is pocket than ‘e does about protectin’ ye. Mayhap the cap’n will let us ‘ave a crack at ye now. Yer not worth much to ‘im anymore.” He forced his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

Alexandra backed away, stopping only when she bumped into Nathaniel’s desk. “He’s still my half brother and your captain,” she pointed out.

“‘E won’t mind if I ‘ave a little kiss.”

“He’ll not stand for you handling me like some common doxy.”

“I don’t see ‘im ‘ere to protect ye.” Rat bit off one long, jagged nail and spat it at the wall. “Besides, what can ‘e do after it’s all over? ‘E’s not goin’ to kill a man simply for sampling the sweetness of those virgin curves. Ye’ll be no worse for the wear.”

“Don’t come near me.” Alexandra’s heart raced in panic as dread filled her soul. The others were preoccupied with the ship they fought; she doubted anyone would hear her scream. And the cabin contained nothing she could use as a weapon. Nathaniel had seen to that the day they set sail.

Her eyes flicked to the door as her only hope. Perhaps she could make it into the passage before Rat set upon her.

“If yer father cares naught about ye, there’s no need to keep ye so safe anymore. Perhaps even the cap’n will take ‘is turn. Or is that where it lies? ‘As all yer seemin’ disdain been a cover for the two of ye keepin’ each other busy at night?”

The lustful gleam in Rat’s eyes nearly turned Alexandra’s stomach, and his words frightened her more than a little. She darted toward the door, feeling the air near her arm stir as Rat’s hand shot out to stop her.

He missed. She grasped the knob and started to turn it, then screamed as she felt his arms snake about her waist, pulling her back.

Alexandra twisted as they fell and used her nails to claw at Rat’s face, hoping to gouge his eyes or any other vulnerable part of his anatomy. But he kept his face turned away. She felt only the rough stubble of his beard beneath her hands. Still, a loud curse indicated a small victory as her nails raked his cheek.

“Ye little bitch,” he swore. “Ye think ye can stop me?”

He grunted as they rolled together. Alexandra kicked and flailed, but her blows only seemed to prolong the inevitable. Finally, panting with exertion, she lay immobile beneath the weight of Rat’s body while he undid his pants.

“Ye like it rough, eh?” he cackled, slapping Alexandra hard across the face.

Alexandra’s ears rang from the blow that left her face numb, but she revived to some degree and began to fight again, this time more desperately than before as Rat tried to wrench up her skirts.

Then the door swung open. Nathaniel filled the portal, a look of stunned surprise claiming his features right before rage descended and his fist sent Rat flying across the room.

“How dare you?” he snarled, crossing to pick the smaller man up by his disheveled clothes.

Rat cowered in the corner, the pallor of his skin white beneath the dark stubble that covered his cheeks, his lip bleeding. “It’s not what ye think, Cap’n. I was just givin’ ‘er a good scare, is all. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Look. She’s not ‘urt.”

Nathaniel threw a glance over his shoulder, surprising Alexandra with the murderous intent etched into the lines of his face. “I’ll hang you from the yardarm if I so much as see you look at her again. This is my cabin, and what’s inside belongs to me. Do you understand?”

The biceps of Nathaniel’s good arm bulged as he slammed Rat against the wall again to punctuate his words.

The small man nodded, swallowing audibly. “Aye, sir.”

“You deserve a good flogging. Fortunately for you, as well as her, I got here in time. Still, you’ll be confined below with nothing but bread and water for five days.” Nathaniel dragged him across the floor and threw him out into the hall with the promise that he would deal with him later.

Alexandra was still shaking when Nathaniel turned to help her up.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she replied, but she felt far from fine. Her heart still hammered against her ribs, and her legs were too rubbery to stand.

Bending, Nathaniel picked her up, bearing the brunt of her weight with his good arm. He carried her to the bed where he laid her down and smoothed the hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Rat’s not one of my men. I can’t trust him like I can the others.”

Alexandra nodded, afraid her voice might crack if she tried to speak.

Nathaniel knelt next to the bed and lightly caressed the welt on her cheek. “I need to know something,” he said when silence stretched between them. “Are you the duke’s daughter?”

Alexandra stared back, willing herself not to glance away from the intense blue eyes that probed her face. Only moments before, she had felt it paramount that Nathaniel know the truth. But Rat had changed that. The memory of him attempting to force his sweaty body upon her made her shudder. Nothing was worse than leaving herself vulnerable to animals like him—nothing.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Nathaniel’s fingers tightened almost painfully on her chin. “Are you my sister?” he asked again, anger flashing across his face.

Alexandra licked her lips and swallowed. She could lose herself in his eyes, forget any earlier existence, forget everything beyond the moment. Rat’s attack had left her frightened and confused, yet Nathaniel provided an anchor with which to ground herself. He was so confident, so capable. She couldn’t lie to him any longer. The mere force of his will brought the truth to her lips.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not.”

Alexandra wasn’t sure what she expected at that moment. She felt as though she hung suspended, waiting to fall.

“Alexandra.” She heard him use her name for the first time as his arm circled beneath her, half lifting her to him. He crushed her mouth with his lips, and she drank passion from his kiss until it filled all her senses. The rocking of the ship fell away, the cabin’s four walls fell away. There was only Nathaniel.

His tongue gently parted her lips, and she opened herself to him like a flower yawning before the sun. The heat of his body warmed her skin, yet burned within her. The thickness of his hair filled her hands.

Soon she began to crave something she could not identify. She wanted to press her body to him, to unite with him in some ancient yet indescribable way, as natural as when the snow melts on the mountains to run down into the sea.

Nathaniel’s breathing was rapid as he moved away from her lips to trail kisses down her throat. She pulled the tail of his shirt from his trousers and reached beneath to feel the muscles of his back, as she had longed to do. They rippled smoothly beneath her touch, thickening as her hands climbed to the full width of his shoulders.

“Alexandra. Beautiful Alexandra,” he murmured, making her shiver at the butterfly touch of his mouth on her skin. “How I have wanted to hold you.”

Alexandra closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. It was thick with desire, deep, throaty. She felt his mouth upon the swell of her cleavage, the heat of his breath. Then his hand closed around one breast, gently teasing the nipple through the fabric of her dress, until she pulled away.

His eyes were the color of the sea after sunset. He didn’t speak, but his gaze fastened to her face like that of a hungry wolf who watches the movements of a darting hare.

“I must not do this.” She shook her head, trying to rein in her emotions. She felt giddy, eager, deprived all in the same moment.

“Why? You want me as badly as I do you. Do you think I am so naive that I can’t recognize a woman’s desire?”

“What I want has nothing to do with it.”

“Desire has everything to do with it.” His brows lowered darkly, and he looked as though he would reach out and pull her to him despite her objections.

“Not if you’d known the sadness my mother carried with her all her days; the life she was forced to live.” Alexandra kept her distance, scooting across the bed as that part of her brain responsible for rational thought rallied from the blow her dazed senses had dealt it. “I’ll not make the same mistake. I won’t settle for anything less than a husband, a home, and children. And you can’t give me that.”

She saw Nathaniel’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He stared at her for a long time as though trying to master his own emotions. Slowly, he stood. “No,” he said. “I can’t give you that.” Then he turned and left.

* * *

It was midafternoon when Nathaniel ordered his crew to open fire once again on the Eastern Horizon. The brig turned to fight with seemingly more determination than before, but she was no match for the Vengeance. Obviously unprepared for further hostilities, the Horizon’s carronades managed only two shots for their every five. Still, she lasted longer than Nathaniel had expected, and he was relieved when a white flag finally ascended her main mast.

“What do you think?” Trenton came to stand beside him.

“I think we might be in trouble,” Nathaniel admitted.

His friend looked up at him in surprise. “You think it’s a trap?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “It doesn’t smell right. Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean? Ships are like women. If they give up too easily, you’d be a fool to trust them.” Trenton grinned, then sobered. “Although I’ll be the first to admit that it’s strange the duke would fire upon his own daughter.”

“She’s not his daughter,” Nathaniel said.

“What?” Trenton rounded on him in alarm.

“She’s a seamstress from Manchester, like she said.”

“But how could she be?”

Nathaniel shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But she isn’t Lady Anne.”

Trenton looked sheepish. “I’m responsible for the mistake. Perhaps if we’d detected it sooner... I just couldn’t imagine another woman emerging from that dress shop wearing the same clothes, with the same height and build. It’s uncanny.”

Nathaniel nodded. He didn’t blame Trenton. How could he, when he’d suspected their mistake for some time? Maybe, on some level, even from the beginning.

“You stay here,” he said, staring across the water toward the Eastern Horizon. Regardless of Alexandra and the poignant emotions any thought of her evoked, it was time to find out why his father had sent a ship to the Black Sea. “If I don’t come back, blow that damned boat out of the water.”

Trenton nodded. “That’s a bloody promise.”

Nathaniel’s long legs carried him quickly to the side, where his men lowered a boat. He checked the seven-inch knife he kept in his boot and primed the pistol at his belt, then climbed down, dropping into the lighter.

Tiny did likewise, nearly making the small boat keel over.

“Take it easy,” Nathaniel muttered crossly.

“Sorry, Cap’n.”

“Garth, you too,” Nathaniel directed.

Garth was smart in a fight and loyal to a fault. Nathaniel watched as he lowered his short, muscular frame into the boat, then the rowers hopped in behind him.

The boat moved across the chasm between the two ships in short, jerky strokes until the vast hull of the Eastern Horizon loomed before them, straight up. A rope ladder dangled to the water.

Nathaniel paused for a moment to listen. He had to be ready for anything. He had no idea what he might find, but there was only one way to find out.

Hoisting himself up, he climbed aboard.

The men of the Eastern Horizon stepped back, their weapons still in their belts. They remained docile but speculative as they cleared an open path to their captain.

“So we meet again.” Nathaniel bowed after crossing the deck to Montague. “I’ll not take much of your time. My demands have not changed since the last time we met.”

“You obviously care little for your own neck,” Montague ground out, his black mustache twitching as he spoke. “Eventually His Grace will win this little war you have started, and then I wouldn’t give three pence for your hide.”

“It is I who have won this day,” Nathaniel returned, eyeing the short, dark Frenchman. “And I have no desire to spar with you. If you and your crew will kindly step aside, we’ll take what we want and leave your ship intact. Otherwise, I’m afraid my jittery first mate will fear for my safety and begin firing at will.”

“Then let him fire.” A short, stocky man fought his way to the forefront, a boy who was barely a man, judging by his lack of facial hair. “If we go down, you go with us.”

The boy had removed his shirt, revealing a hairless, muscular chest. He clasped a knife tightly in his right hand. “I’ll not let you take this ship while I’m alive to protect it.”

Nathaniel laughed with calculated insult. “It would seem a bit late for that.”

The crew began to gather into an expectant circle, murmuring amongst themselves.

“‘E’s got but one arm,” Nathaniel heard a gruff voice announce as they began to place wagers. “An’ Jake’s the best among us,” someone else agreed.

“Jake is young and reckless. Ignore his childish bravado,” Montague said, waving for the men to quiet down.

“And you are a fool,” Jake hissed. “You are playing right into the hands of these thieves.”

“You, young man, are a danger to all those present,” Nathaniel told him, letting his voice drop to a menacing level. “You would do well to take lessons from an older and wiser sort, like your good captain, before you lose something you value. Like your life.”

“He is a coward! And you are a pig!” Jake made a lightning jab for the heart. His blade grazed Nathaniel’s shirt, leaving a tear that exposed the skin over his ribs as he whirled away.

Dropping to one knee, Nathaniel retrieved the knife from his boot, and the men who surrounded them hooted in gratification as the fight erupted.

Jake lunged again, and Nathaniel sprang to his feet. The boy was not so inexperienced as Nathaniel had expected. He fought with practiced skill, but he was overly aggressive. Nathaniel had seen eagerness cause a man’s downfall too many times. He dodged and jabbed and dodged again, but remained mostly on the defensive, patiently conserving his energy until Jake began to tire.

The cool wind reached inside Nathaniel’s shirt like fingers, pulling the fabric away from his perspiring torso as he began his own series of thrusts and jabs. His knife caught Jake’s forearm, opening a small cut that spurted blood, but Jake’s eyes barely glanced at the nick. Red-faced with fury, the boy lost all discipline and began a feverish onslaught, repeatedly aiming at Nathaniel’s heart.

Nathaniel managed to avoid the point of Jake’s knife, pressing his advantage when the momentum of the boy’s own blows knocked him off-balance. Making a stab at Jake’s chest, he quickly changed direction, aiming instead for the hand that held the weapon.

A split second later, Nathaniel’s blade sliced deep into his opponent’s wrist.

The crew hissed as Jake’s knife clattered to the deck when he could no longer grasp it. The boy’s fingers dangled limply, the tendons in his wrist severed, as blood washed over his hand and dripped onto the wood planking.

Nathaniel lowered his knife, but the noise and motion of those around them acted like a douse of cold water to Jake. With a wild growl, he launched himself at Nathaniel’s feet.

Taken by surprise, Nathaniel felt himself hefted into the air, then slammed into the deck. The jolt forced the air from his lungs as Jake’s good hand landed a blow to his stomach.

Twisting away and gasping for breath, Nathaniel pushed Jake off. His own knife skittered across the deck toward Garth as he tossed it away, then sprang to his feet to deliver a punishing blow to Jake’s nose.

The boy’s head snapped back as blood spattered those closest to the fight, but Jake only shook his head as if to clear his vision. Then, with a curse, he threw a swift kick to Nathaniel’s groin.

Nathaniel intercepted the blow with his hand, toppling Jake to the ground. “Bloody hell, Montague, call this cockfighter off. Are you trying to get him killed?” he shouted.

The crew had been silent for several seconds. They were no doubt waiting for someone, likely Montague, to intercede. It was obvious that Nathaniel had won the fight. But the captain of the Horizon said nothing, only watched with hooded eyes as Jake staggered to his feet.

The boy tried to land a blow with his injured right hand, then looked about himself in obvious confusion, and finally Captain Montague stepped in. Turning to two men hovering just on the edge of the circle, he said, “Take him below and clean him up. And see about that hand.”

Nathaniel watched Jake struggle against those who would help him, and came to a decision. “Wait, I’ll take the boy Jake with me.”

Silence fell over those who heard his words. Even Tiny and Garth gaped at him.

Montague’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. “Mon Dieu! I could never allow it. It is simply out of the question.”

“Nothing is out of the question,” Nathaniel replied. “You are hardly in a position to refuse.”

Captain Montague stubbornly protested, but Nathaniel was in no mood to mince words. He turned to Garth, who handed him his knife, and the circle around them instantly widened.

“Would a taste of my blade convince you more readily? You were eager enough for Jake to try it.”

The Frenchman paused, his tongue continually wetting his lips. “No. I am no fighter. He is yours.”

Nathaniel bowed stiffly, his blood still pounding in his ears. “I am glad you are a man of reason,” he said, forcing back the desire to challenge the cocky Frenchman anyway.

A few minutes later, several men hoisted a bound but struggling Jake over the side. They lowered him into the boat beside Garth, who immediately began pulling for the Vengeance. Nathaniel and Tiny stayed to oversee the exchange of cargo.

As the first crates appeared on deck, brought up from the hold below, Nathaniel halted the procession, too eager to discover what had drawn his father’s attention to the Black Sea to wait any longer. The boxes were long and flat, yet curiously heavy—certainly not sugar or tobacco. Neither were they typical of opium.

Using his knife to pry one of the boards away, Nathaniel dug through the packing to reveal six clean, shiny rifles—the newly invented Minie rifle currently being issued to the English infantry.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “Why on earth would my father be shipping rifles to Russia?” His eyes sought Montague’s, but even as he asked, he knew, and the answer turned his stomach. In war, what commanded a better price than arms?

“It’s treason,” Nathaniel said, disgust sticking like tar to his voice. “And you are as guilty as he.”

“I had no idea what we carried. His Grace chose not to reveal that to me.” Montague’s voice was strained. He glanced worriedly toward his crew. “None of us knew.”

“Guns!” The word rippled through the men like a wave. They appeared as startled as Nathaniel. More than a few became angry. “We were told we carried provisions for the poor Turks,” they shouted.

Instinct told Nathaniel that the Horizon’s captain, at the very least, knew exactly what lay inside the boxes of his hold, which was why he had fought so tenaciously to keep them. “If I were you, I’d be worried about my own hide,” Nathaniel told Montague. “Treason can play havoc with one’s neck.”

“You will test the rope long before I do,” Montague hissed. “You are making a big mistake taking that boy. You have enemies in very high places.”

“It is you who has cause to worry—because you consider them your friends.” Though Nathaniel affected a calm demeanor, the discovery of his father’s treachery had sent him reeling. Why would the duke betray his own country? Why would he risk his life, his good name, his fortune, and his title? It didn’t make sense. But then, there was much about his father that Nathaniel had never understood. He was only grateful that he had something, at last, that would make the Duke of Greystone sit up and take notice. And if it wasn’t too late, release Richard.

Turning his back on Montague, Nathaniel said, “Tiny, you oversee the transfer of the rest of the cargo. I’m going back.”