The Pirate Bride Read online

  “You are an Englishman,” Logan said, as if to remind the pirate he had attacked one of his countrymen. Though the days of so-called privateering were behind them, many a sea robber still did not prey upon his own kind.

  “I am not an Englishman, I assure you.”

  Red Robert had apparently made his assessment already.

  His name, Logan reflected, was bandied about in many a tavern. It was one that caused even the brave to tremble, for the stories that went about were fearsome.

  He had not expected a man who looked so young. Then again, pirates rarely survived many years, at least, not at piracy. They were killed, or they took what riches they had obtained, changed their names and created new lives on distant islands or in out-of-theway towns.

  Logan spoke again, aware that he had to do so with a certain eloquence if he intended to achieve his goal of keeping his men alive, whatever his own fate.

  He took a step forward. “I, good Captain Robert, am Logan Haggerty, Lord of Loch Emery, with no emphasis on the title, for were it worthy of great land or riches, you’d not be finding me here upon the high seas. What I seek is the right of man-to-man combat.”

  “Hmm, do tell,” Red Robert said.

  “If you best me with your sword, you have gained a good ship and great riches without spilling an ounce of blood other than my own, or chancing the loss of treasure to the bottom of the sea, and without risking the lives and limbs of your men.”

  “And if you best me, m’lord?” Red Robert inquired with polite amusement.

  “Then we sail away.”

  Red Robert seemed to weigh his words with gravity. But then he said, “Surely you are jesting.”

  “Are you afraid?” Logan demanded, assessing the pirate captain’s slender frame and apparent youth, which made a strange contrast indeed against the hardened edge of the sea robbers surrounding him.

  “This is not a profession for one who is afraid,” Red Robert returned casually. “Don’t be deceived by my youth, Lord Haggerty. I am more than proficient with my weapons.”

  One well-muscled man standing at the pirate captain’s side—not much older, but far stronger and broader—whispered in Red Robert’s ear, causing him to laugh.

  “This may be some trick, Red,” one of the other men warned, a fellow with long gray hair, a large gold earring and his fingers twitching on the hilt of the knife at his waist.

  “No trick,” Logan said quietly.

  “No fear, Hagar,” Red said, acknowledging the man who had spoken. “And no deal.” He turned to Logan. “However, here is what I do offer. If you best me, you do not sail away free. After all, m’lord, you surely knew you traveled dangerous waters.” When Logan would have spoken, Red Robert raised his hand. “Your men live. They may sail away free with half the treasure. But you remain with us, a willing prisoner, to be held for ransom.”

  “I’ve told you. My title means little.”

  “And so the daring voyage you attempted today?” Red Robert mocked.

  Logan stood his ground without reply, though his heart seemed to shrivel at the thought of never seeing Cassandra again. Still, his men would live to sail away.

  If he could win.

  And, God help him, the fellow was lean, which would make him quick. Agile. A deadly foe.

  Though far broader in the shoulder himself, and not without a fair share of power in his arms, he was agile, as well. He’d trained with some of the finest swordsmen money could buy, since it was only recently that the family fortunes had taken such a sad turn.

  His men. He had to save his men, God help him. He’d had every right to gamble with his own life, but he had been wrong to risk theirs, as well. And if he could best this captain…

  “I will be your willing prisoner. But I would ask, then, that even if I lose, you take the treasure but give my men the tenders so that they might make safe landfall.”

  Red Robert shrugged.

  The tall, dark-haired fellow at his side protested. “No.”

  The captain turned on him with such a fierce look of displeasure that the man stepped back and hung his head. “Brendan,” Red said warningly.

  The captain had a curious voice, Logan thought. He seemed eternally soft-spoken. Strange, for someone who needed to bellow orders against the wind. There was a husky, almost whispered quality to his voice.

  “Aye, Red,” the man named Brendan replied, but despite his immediate acknowledgment that Red was captain and his orders stood, he was rigidly disapproving.

  “It is done,” Red Robert said.

  “This is madness,” Jamie protested softly to Logan. “A trick, certainly. They will not let us go. They will not forego half of such a treasure.”

  “It is madness,” Logan agreed. Madness from the moment he had agreed to transport the treasure. Madness? Aye, from start to finish, but here was his chance to at least save those he had dragged into folly along with him.

  “Madness, but I believe this pirate will stand by his word.”

  “My deck, m’lord Captain, is the larger,” Red Robert said. “We shall hold our contest here.”

  There was some muttering upon the pirate’s deck.

  And some protests from Logan’s own.

  Red Robert lifted a hand. The muttering went silent. “We shall fight until first blood,” he called out gruffly.

  “Are you afraid of Lord Haggerty’s prowess?” Jamie shouted out.

  Logan wished the man silent. They were hardly in a position to aggravate their opponents.

  “I don’t intend to sacrifice a fine ransom or ready muscles for the oars,” Red returned, unruffled.

  “Well?” demanded one of Red’s fellows. “Do we get on with this or not?”

  Logan leapt nimbly upon the ship’s rail to make his way to the other ship’s deck. Alone among the ruffians and sea robbers, he stood his ground. He stared at the slender and oddly aesthetic pirate, then dipped a deep and sweeping bow. “At your convenience, Captain.”

  “Clear the deck,” Red Robert said, and it wasn’t a resounding, thunderous shout, but a quiet command, still instantly obeyed.

  “He needs a second!” Jamie McDougall called, and leapt across to stand, white-faced, fists clenched, at Logan’s side.

  Jamie McDougall was a good and loyal friend, Logan thought. They had a long history together. Jamie would not, apparently could not, leave him now.

  Red Robert pulled his sword from the handsome scabbard belted about his hip. He swept a courtly bow to Logan. “At your convenience, m’lord.”

  “Nay, sir, at yours,” Logan said softly.

  It might have been a casual meeting on the street. At first they circled one another carefully, each trying to assess the measure and mettle of the other man. Neither of them appeared the least concerned. Logan saw a smile twitch at the pirate’s lips. This close, he saw that the captain was indeed very young.

  He wondered that the pirate captain, however youthful and—perhaps?—inexperienced he might be, had not shed the crimson coat. He was clad in shirt and breeches himself, allowing a far greater freedom of movement.

  But his opponent seemed perfectly comfortable in his coat.

  He certainly wasn’t about to suggest his opponent remove it. Why offer his foe any advantage?

  “Get ’im, Red!” cried gray-haired Hagar, and a chant went up among the pirates.

  Not to be outdone, Logan’s own crew called encouragement to him.

  “Take the sea robber, m’lord! Take him!” Jamie shouted.

  “Red, watch his footwork,” warned the man named Brendan.

  “He’s a scurvy sea rat, m’lord!” cried someone from his own deck. Richard Darnley, Logan thought, a good young sailor, and a man intent on making his way in the world.

  Young and stalwart. A man who deserved a long life and the fulfillment of his dreams.

  Red Robert continued to assess him.

  And then they met.

  Slowly, almost politely. A touching of the swords. A meeting
of the eyes.

  Then they began in earnest.

  Logan felt the clash of steel vibrate all along his arm. A quick return, another, then another.

  For a moment he felt he had the advantage, but he quickly realized he had thought too soon.

  His opponent leapt nimbly against the starboard hull, then pushed off and nearly caught him dead in the chest. Logan managed a jump to the side, instinct-driven, and he was certain that saved his life. But it had been close. Far too close. They were fighting only until first blood was drawn. But had the pirate made good on that last lunge…

  It wasn’t to be a gentlemanly duel, Logan realized.

  “M’lord, watch the wretched sea robber,” Jamie warned him.

  Logan came on hard with a series of quick thrusts and slashes, forcing his opponent back again. Just when he thought he had the pirate nearly cornered against the master’s cabin, Red Robert once again made a sudden sweeping leap that sent him bouncing off a storage bin. This time when he came about, it was to nearly sever Logan’s head from his body.

  Instinct had driven him to duck, keeping life and skull intact. Barely. His opponent was as adept with a sword as he’d claimed, and clearly not at all afraid of shedding blood or lopping off limbs.

  Logan caught a glimpse of the pirate’s eyes.

  They were narrowed and deadly.

  The chanting, the jests, the encouragement, the hoots of derision, all seemed to be getting louder and louder, like a growing storm.

  The pirate’s face was flushed. Red Robert wore his name well at that moment, Logan reflected, hoping he was seeing a sign of weakness. Perhaps the pirate had been a bit too impressed with his own skill. A more than respectable skill, certainly, but no man was assured of victory.

  He had to take the advantage now, Logan knew. A very large part of excellence in swordsmanship lay in the mind, in creating a strategy for using a man’s talents most effectively. A heavy man used his weight and strength, a nimble man his agility. To best this pirate, he had to assess each leap and slide the man might take beforehand, then be somewhere else when the strike came.

  Once again the pirate took to the air, this time landing atop a rum barrel. And in that split second, Logan anticipated the man’s next move, a rapid leap that would bring the pirate behind him.

  Logan whirled around. In that brief moment, he prayed he hadn’t anticipated in error and that the pirate would not come down behind his current position.

  He didn’t.

  Too late, Red Robert saw that his move had been predicted.

  He landed facing Logan.

  And Logan set the point of his blade against the pirate’s throat.

  Blue eyes gazed at him with fury, and yet he was certain the pirate was not so much angry with him as he was with himself for being outmaneuvered.

  “Good calculation,” Robert said, barely managing to unclench his teeth.

  Logan withdrew the point of his sword and bowed.

  As he stood, he found the pirate’s blade at his throat.

  It was his turn for anger.

  “You, Captain, are not a man of your word. I have bested you.”

  The pirate gloated. “First blood. You did not draw blood.”

  “Only because I chose not to cause injury. But an agreement has been made, and I am an honest man.”

  “But I am a pirate.”

  “A pirate’s honor is said to be greater than the average man’s.”

  “And what do you know of a pirate’s honor?” Red Robert demanded.

  “I have sailed these seas for many years.”

  Red Robert’s sword began to drop.

  Still angry, Logan reacted, slashing hard against his opponent’s blade and all but sending it flying. He quickly nicked the fellow’s cheek; a tiny dot of blood appeared.

  “First blood,” he said icily.

  Red Robert didn’t even blink. Nor did he touch the drop of blood upon his cheek.

  He merely turned away, striding toward the door to the master’s cabin, where he paused, looking back and speaking to his men. “The cargo of our Lord Captain’s ship shall be evenly divided. His men may proceed upon their path when our split of the goods has been taken.”

  “What of the captain himself?” Brendan asked.

  “Take him below to the brig, of course,” Red Robert said. Those icy blue eyes met Logan’s across the deck. “He is an honorable man. He will go without skirmish, as he has sworn, I am certain.”

  “And if I were not a gentleman? If I were to protest now?” Logan inquired.

  “You drew first blood, but I’m quite certain you realize I do not exaggerate my ability at swordsmanship,” Red Robert said tightly. “I am equally adept with a cat-o’-nine-tails. But that’s really no matter, is it? You gave your word. And you are a man of honor.”

  The pirate captain turned to enter the cabin.

  “Wait!” Logan demanded.

  Red Robert turned back.

  “I would request a moment with my first mate. To give instructions.”

  “As you wish.”

  “You’re not afraid it’s a trick?” he could not help but ask.

  “Why would I be afraid? I repeat, you have assured me that you are a man of your word.”

  Red Robert stepped through the cabin door.

  Logan stood tall and straight, watching the door close. He felt as if he were trembling inside, but he could not—would not—let it show. He had achieved his aim; his men would live. They would sail on to South Carolina.

  “My lad, my fine lord,” Jamie said, and it sounded as if he were choking. He did not stand on ceremony. He gripped Logan’s shoulders tightly, staring into his eyes with misery.

  “Jamie, my good fellow. I’m quite all right. You will sail on with the others and see to my release. I believe our patrons will be glad half their treasure has survived, and you must ensure that we receive the promised cut. Forty percent. Don’t take less.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  Logan saw that Brendan was leading a ten-man crew across to his ship.

  Even from this distance, he could tell that his own men were tight-lipped and stiff, barely moving.

  “Help with the divide,” he called out, his voice strong. “We have made a deal, and it will be kept. Hinder no man of the pirate ship in his effort to take what is his.”

  “Ye heard the captain!” Jamie roared.

  “Go, my friend. See to it,” Logan told him.

  Jamie nodded, deep sorrow in his eyes. The old salt actually looked as if he were about to cry.

  “I have survived thus far,” Logan assured him softly. He forced a cocky smile. “I guarantee you, I shall continue to do so.”

  “I will find a way to kill these blasted brigands,” Jamie swore. “I’ll not rest ’til I’ve met whatever ransom this pirate requires and seen you freed.”

  “You are a good man, Jamie. We will meet again.”

  “M’lord…”

  “Tell Cassandra…” Logan began.

  “Aye?”

  “Tell her that I am deeply sorry. But that…that I pray—no, I demand!—that she choose whatever path now lies open to her for happiness.”

  “Nay, my lord!”

  “You will tell her so, Jamie. Swear it to me.”

  “I cannot—”

  “You can. You must. Swear it, Jamie.”

  Jamie hung his head. “Aye, Logan. As you wish.”

  “Go with God, Jamie.”

  Jamie, a fierce and bitter look upon his face, glanced toward the captain’s cabin.

  “I pray that God will be with you, for surely he has abandoned all other men here.”

  “He helps those who help themselves, so it is said, and I am quite capable of helping myself, as you know, my friend.”

  Jamie nodded tightly, then turned quickly and moved on.

  Logan remained.

  Feeling the breeze.

  The sea…the air…the sweet cry of the wind. They all meant freedom to him.
He had never realized just how much until this moment. Amazing how he had never before realized how much he had loved freedom.

  But then…

  It was a long time since he had been a prisoner.

  That had been another lifetime. But he hadn’t forgotten.

  After all, that memory was half the reason for the fool trip that had brought him to this fate.

  “M’lord Captain?”

  There was just a hint of mockery in the words.

  Brendan stood at his side, watching him. The fellow neither smiled nor goaded him as he continued. “I’m afraid your presence is required. In the brig.”

  Logan nodded.

  The man carried shackles, he noticed.

  “There is no need for those,” he said. “Merely show me the way.”

  The man did so, first looking toward his captain’s cabin, then sweeping an arm toward the steps that led down to the hold.

  With one last glance at the brilliant blue sky, Logan headed for the steps.

  They seemed to lead to blackness, to an abyss.

  But one no darker than his heart.

  To take risks was one thing.

  To lose all…

  Quite another.

  His men had lived. And he thanked God that in all his years, even through his bouts of rage-inspired madness, he had never forced others to perish on any quest of his making.

  He had never meant to sell his soul.

  But as he descended into the darkness, he wondered if he had lost it anyway.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE SOUND WAS haunting, would always be haunting…

  There were hoofbeats coming like thunder. A slow rumble at first, like a tremor pulsing beneath the earth. With the first vibration, it seemed as if the birds screamed, followed by the rushing of the wind. The sound of the hoofbeats grew louder, the quivering of the earth, deeper. Then, a mere heartbeat later, the pounding hooves came ripping through grass and dirt, striking sparks off rock, shaking the world.

  By the time the horses raced into view, there was screaming everywhere. People were running, desperate.

  The thunder was upon them. As loud as if a bolt of lightning had struck the ground and blasted a hole through the globe.

  Then…

  A sword, glittering in the sun.