The Highlander’s Pirate Lass by Heather McCollum
Chapter Fifteen
Eliza jumped up to the upper deck of the Calypso. The carrack ship was less than a year old and still smelled of new wood and polish. Beck’s pride and joy. She grimaced and pushed her remorse away.
Must save John.And her crew. They had taken her in, protecting her from the age of twelve when she’d swung aboard in John’s arms, Jandeau snarling behind him. Kofi had immediately picked her up in his large, tattooed arms. His murderous face had made her nearly piss herself. But he’d met her terrified gaze with kindness in his eyes, the white around his irises seeming so bright in his dark face. I had a daughter once, he’d said. You are safe with me.
From that day on, the large man had stepped between her and any man who wished her harm. And now Kofi, John, and the rest would swing by the neck because they’d sought Jandeau to find Peter. Peter. Her baby brother. She’d abandoned him, and now they were paying for her selfishness.
The cold spring breeze blew against the heat in her cheeks, and she was glad she had her long wool and leather captain’s coat that John had given her last Christmas. She grabbed the smooth handle of the whipstaff that was tied to the tiller below deck, which, in turn, worked the rudder under the ship to steer it. “Pip, up the ratlines on the main mast. Liam, unfurl the mainsail,” she called out and looked to Jasper who stood next to her. “I need your strength on the relieving tackle to help me steer this beast from shore.” It helped the rudder maneuver with better accuracy.
“Anders,” she called, “unfurl the foresail and raise it on my mark.”
“Alice, untie the ropes so we can raise all the sails when I say.”
And that was it, only six of them to guide this ship away from the shallows surrounding Wolf Isle. She’d stood beside Captain John for years, studying his every move, believing one day she would have a ship of her own. He had even let her steer the Devil’s Blood from time to time. She will be yours someday, he’d said. Her heart squeezed at the memory. But this was different. This was Beck’s ship, and she must meet Wentworth and conquer Jandeau to save everyone she cared about. Except Beck.
She touched the pendant she wore under her tunic. The hardness of it reminded her of the strength she’d seen in her mother as she fought Jandeau’s men to the bloody end. Jandeau. The devil himself. “I will see you on the end of my blade,” she murmured, watching everyone scurry to do what she’d asked.
The wind had picked up, which was good, but it made pulling away tricky. “Liam, raise the foresail and then the mainsail.” Anders ran to help him. As the sails rose, she felt the ship tug under her, making her heart race. The dock ties were undone, the anchor raised, and the sea and wind were working together to pull the Calypso away from her berth.
This is going to work.
“What the bloody hell are ye doing?”
Beck’s voice boomed from the hatch behind her that led to the captain’s cabin. She jumped, turning to see him already halfway out, using his immense arms to propel himself onto the deck.
“Ye are stealing my ship!” He answered his own question, so she turned back to face the bow despite not being able to draw a full breath. He’d come back from the wedding for her.
“Anders, raise the mainsail completely,” she called.
“Nay!” Beck yelled, coming up next to her. “And ye stay right where ye are, Jasper,” he said, his arm out toward him. Jasper kept his hands wrapped around the lines.
“Stad! Stop! All of ye,” he yelled and continued in a mix of heavily accented English and Scots Gaelic, his anger making his words warble together like the violent rush of water over rocks.
He grabbed her arm, and she turned to face him. The sun, breaking through the clouds, made the gray in his eyes seem almost blue. Everything about his face was hard and determined. A drop of water slid down his forehead from his hair.
“You are wet,” she said.
“Because I had to foking swim to my ship that was pulling away from my dock. My ship!”
She glanced at the hatch. “You came through your cabin.”
He shook droplets from his head. “Up through the damn jakes.”
Her mouth dropped open. He’d climbed up the side of the ship and punched out the hole that he pissed through. She was sorry, sorry for all of it, especially the hard look of betrayal on his face. But she couldn’t give in to any of that now. She turned back. “I have work to do,” she said.
He looked out where she was steering. “And ye are going to run my ship aground.”
“Then help me,” she fired back.
Beck drew a full breath through his clenched teeth. “Anders, raise the mizzen sail,” he called and looked to Jasper. “Get ready to pull. We must get around the boulders up there just under the surface.” Jasper nodded once and coiled the thick rope around his arms, planting his boots on the deck.
“Pull!” he yelled, and Eliza turned the whipstaff as far as she could so the wind would catch and blow them out. Jasper pulled, too, helping the tiller below deck turn as tightly as possible. Beck took off in a run, jumping down from the upper deck to help Liam and Alice unloop another thick rope. “Raise the top sails!” he yelled. He grabbed the lines, pulling with Alice and Liam to raise the higher sails that Pip had untied before sliding down. The wind snapped the sails over, pulling the Calypso away from the land, the deck tilting at a sharp angle. All Eliza could do was work with Jasper to hold the tiller as far over as possible. She watched Beck run across the deck to look over the side at the water below. The tide had gone out farther than was safe.
He grabbed a long, thick pole that lay inside the gunwale. Throwing it over, he aimed it farther up the ship. “Liam,” he yelled, and the man ran to him. The two of them pushed down against the pole, even rising up off the deck with their full body weights to push away from the rocks below.
The sound of the ship’s hull scraping against rock vibrated dread up Eliza’s back. “Dammit,” she said, the word coming from between gritted teeth. Would she tear a hole in the hull, sinking the ship before she could even get out to Wentworth?
Beck and Liam lifted the pole back up and placed it again, repeating the push.
The wind snapped at the sails. “Boom about!” Eliza yelled, and Pip, Anders, and Alice all ducked as the boom swung with the wind, catching it fully and making the ship list harder to the side. Everyone braced themselves.
“Haul on the line to the main mast, Alice,” she called, to make the sail tighter. They were all working together. Even Pip was leaning over the rail, yelling to Beck about what she could see.
Lord God, don’t let me destroy Beck’s ship.
Time moved forward with the pounding of her heart, and the ship tilted away from the land, the bow pointing toward the open sea. “West,” she called, and continued to hold the whipstaff tight in its turn.
Beck dropped the pole along the deck, his stride closing the distance between them. His face was red with anger, and he jumped back up onto the aft deck.
“You can let up, Jasper,” she said, and the man uncoiled the tackle rope. As Beck stopped before Eliza, Jasper strode down to the lower deck, leaving her there with a fuming Highlander.
“Ye stole my bloody ship,” he said, the words grinding out.
“You wouldn’t help me,” she said, looking past him.
“Help ye with what? Saving Captain John?”
“Aye!” she yelled, her eyes flashing with her own fury. “By meeting Wentworth.”
He stared at her as if she were mad for a moment. “Ye said ye were ill. Ye lied about having your monthly flux?”
She stared straight ahead.
“Dammit, Eliza! Are ye with child?”
Her gaze snapped to him. “How in hell would I know that? We were just together two nights ago.”
“Mo chreach,” he said, his hands raking up through his hair to grab his neck like it pained him. He looked out to the water, dropping his arms. “Where are we going? Ye said to meet Wentworth. For what purpose?”
Liam cupped his hands from below. “To kill Jandeau.” Dammit, they could all hear their conversation.
“To catch Jandeau and to trade for Captain John and the crew,” Anders called right after him.
Eliza turned her gaze to Beck. As if he felt it, he met her stare. Let him see the truth in her eyes. “And to save my brother,” she said.
“Your brother?” The furrow between his brows deepened. “He is alive?”
She nodded and looked back out as they followed Wolf Isle toward its end. “Captain John found out that he still lives. Peter was given to a woman in port to raise, and Jandeau has reclaimed him.”
“And Wentworth wants him,” Beck said, following the logic.
“More than he wants to take Captain John to London,” she said. “But if we don’t capture Jandeau and save Peter, the deal is off and my family hangs.”
“Jandeau won’t surrender your brother easily.”
“Nay, he won’t, but there is something he wants more than Peter.” She looked at the strength in his face. “Me.”
Beck grabbed her upper arms, holding her there as he pinned her with his stare. “I will never let that happen.”
The tone was fierce, like an oath, and she swallowed. “I should have saved Peter when he was a babe. Instead, I did not even ask if he was alive. I let Captain John rescue me without mentioning that I had a brother who might still be on board that demon ship.”
“Ye did not know, Eliza. How could ye?”
“I bloody well could have asked,” she said, yanking herself away from him to focus on the horizon and the end of Wolf Isle.
“Eliza,” he said, his voice stern, but with a tinge of kindness that made the pressure of tears tighten behind her eyes.
“I am going to right my wrong and save my brother and Captain John and my family,” she said. “I wish that I had not had to steal your ship to do so.” She glanced at him. The wind ruffled his light-brown hair around his rugged features. “But I would do so again to save them.”
“Sail ho!” Pip yelled from where she’d climbed up to the main topcastle. She pointed west.
Eliza let out a breath in relief. Her uncle had kept his promise. “Wentworth,” she said, sliding the whipstaff to angle toward the English ship. It was large, a gunner for certain. No wonder the Devil’s Blood had been crippled.
“We are not done discussing this,” Beck said.
Beck jumped down to the level below her to disappear into the captain’s quarters. The sails caught the wind as they moved past the edge of the island, and the familiar feel of sailing fast with the wind made her inhale. The cool breeze, free of gun smoke, free of the taint of land, was sweet. The ship crested and dipped with the waves as they cut through them toward Wentworth’s ship. This was what freedom felt like to Eliza—except now her freedom felt weighted down with remorse.
“His man is signaling to pull alongside,” Pip yelled from above.
“If you see the Bourreau, get down,” Anders called up to her. He was right. Nothing spurred Jandeau’s men to attack faster than seeing a beautiful child to take.
Beck strode back out of his quarters, having traded his soaked Scotsman’s plaid for sailor’s clothes. He leaped up to stand beside her but did not tell her how to steer his ship. Instead, he watched, hands clasped behind his straight back, legs braced easily.
The wind was steady, so she was able to guide the Calypso toward the English ship. “Furl the sails,” she called, and everyone on the decks scrambled to lower them. Beck joined them as she steered. His trews hugged his narrow hips, showing the tightness of his arse under a short leather jerkin that he wore over a white tunic. His short hair shifted in the wind, and he called orders to Anders, Alice, and Jasper while Liam caught the mainsail below, wrapping it along the boom.
Eliza felt the drag of the water as she steered toward where Captain Wentworth stood on his deck. Her breath caught as she saw Captain John standing next to him. They both watched her approach. At least ten sailors held poles ready to push the Calypso away if she slid into them, but the wind cooperated to allow Eliza to guide the boat alongside, nearly end to end.
Captain John gave her a small nod of approval, and her heart swelled.
“Your captain knows quite a lot about our mutual enemy,” Wentworth yelled across, his face grim. “He will be coming across to help you with some of my men while I hold the rest of his crew here.” John would make this work.
Wentworth’s men swung across first, and then Captain John. His boots landed with a deep thud on the deck. Before the rope had even slid back, he strode across the deck toward Beck. John’s fist came around.
“Beck!” Eliza yelled.
She stared openmouthed as Beck caught the swing of Captain John’s arm, throwing him back, his fists rising to defend himself. Younger by at least ten years and full of muscle, Beck did not return the attack.
“What the hell!” Eliza yelled down at John.
“This is between a father and a reputed lover,” John yelled back without taking his gaze from Beck.
Eliza felt her cheeks bloom with heat. “You said I could pick. I picked him,” she called. Lord, all the people on deck were looking between them.
Captain John said something to Beck, pointing at him, his face tight with anger. Beck gave one nod and dropped his fists. John pivoted on his boots and strode toward her, leaving Beck to talk with the English sailors.
“What was that about?” she asked as he stopped next to her. Captain John stood tall, legs braced like he did when he sailed the Devil’s Blood, his narrowed eyes forever searching the horizon.
“Young pup needs to know you’re not some whore to be tricked,” he said.
“He didn’t trick me,” she said. “I asked him to.”
“The best scoundrels make you think that, and then they use you.”
She ran a hand down her face. “He was quite attentive to me. I may have even used him more.”
He glanced at her and then back out at sea. “Will you stay with him then?”
His words hit her hard, and she swallowed. She looked out to where Beck spoke with her uncle across the narrow divide between their ships. Wentworth nodded to whatever Beck was planning.
“I stole his ship,” she said. “’Tis a betrayal. I do not think he would have me stay with him.” The words were like small knives digging into her chest, making her inhale more like the flapping of an injured bird.
“There are different levels of betrayal, Eliza,” John said, his gaze still outward. He had all his conversations that way, always watching the sea. It made speaking to him easier.
She swallowed, her gaze following Beck where he gestured to sails and ropes, instructing the English sailors. “He loves this ship. Built it himself.”
Captain John glanced at her. “But the ship didn’t choose him to bed her.”
She shook her head, not wishing to hope. Hope led to a deeper wound, and she already felt weak with the slices of the last two days. She inhaled. “How did you convince my uncle to let you over here?”
John turned his tanned face outward again. “I fed him everything I know about Jandeau, and some things I’ve guessed. He also knows how loyal I am to my crew. With me here, we have a better chance at getting Peter and Jandeau.” This time his whole body turned toward her. “You know Jandeau wants you.”
She nodded, her eyes meeting his gaze. Inhaling to fill her words with conviction despite the tremor in her chest, she said, “We can use that to get Peter.”
“Nay,” Beck yelled as he rose up the short ladder, his large biceps propelling him onto the upper deck as if his boots barely touched down. “We will not.” Beck’s handsome features were darkened with fury and stubborn determination.
“’Tis her brother,” John said. “And her choice.”
“Do ye know why she might choose to give herself to Jandeau for her brother?” Beck said.
Anger bubbled up inside Eliza, muting the pain there. “Hold your tongue.” She hadn’t actually told him she didn’t want people to know her shame, but it should have been inferred. No one would want their dark secret out. “’Tis no one’s business but mine own.”
He continued anyway. “Eliza is under a ridiculous notion that she is to blame—”
“Stop it!” she yelled in his face, her palm smacking into his large chest. It didn’t move him at all, the damn mountainous Scotsman.
“—for her brother being in Jandeau’s hands, that a frightened lass who had just watched atrocities committed against her parents should have saved her brother when ye rescued her from Jandeau’s ship.”
She drew her dagger, standing before him, and rested the point at his throat. Beck didn’t even wince but stared hard into her eyes, meeting her fury and dark shame with outrage and denial.
“I am responsible,” she yelled. “I left him. I said nothing about him. ’Tis my fault!” The words were out, the poison that had sat in her heart for ten years had been spat forward. The cloying shame and sorrow had risen up through her with Captain John’s words Peter is alive.
“And now I am going to fix it,” she said, the words coming out with such force it was like a growl.
She stared into Beck’s eyes, daring him to refuse her. He met her gaze without blinking, his lips pressed tight. She slowly lowered her dagger from the throat she had kissed in passion and turned away, blinking back the moisture that had gathered with her anger and self-loathing. “Raise the sails,” she called, looking away.
“Mo chreach,” Beck said, his voice low and still angry.
Captain John cracked his knuckles and slid his fingers down his short beard. “So you have tried and sentenced the one at fault to torture, rape, and death.”
“Bloody foking hell,” Beck said, his voice even.
Her gaze slid past Beck, who looked like he would rip Jandeau’s limbs off, to Captain John. “I left a child, my brother, in the hands of that monster,” she said.
Her adopted father looked at her, his eyes without the judgment she felt she deserved. “Nay, Eliza,” John said. “I did.”