The Highlander’s Pirate Lass by Heather McCollum

Chapter Seventeen

Wed?

He’d said they were married. And that she, Eliza, was the most important thing in his life. One statement was for Jandeau, a lie, but was the other the truth? The idea tugged on her already twisted heart.

The cannonball hit the Calypso’s bowsprit, shattering the wood in a spray of splinters. Alice ducked and ran toward the middle of the ship, away from the flying shrapnel. The men at the cannons on deck looked to Beck for the signal. Wentworth’s galleon wouldn’t reach them before Jandeau sank them.

Eliza grabbed Beck’s loose linen sleeve in her fist. “I will go across as they send Peter over.”

“Nay,” Beck said, his face set in stubborn viciousness, lips pulled back to show his teeth. “Ye will not—”

“I will jump over the rail of the Bourreau,” she said from between clenched teeth. “I can swim, and you will fish me out.”

“He won’t let go of ye to jump, and the water is too cold.”

“If you light your guns and start firing, he will let go, and I’ve swum in cold seawater before. Just watch where I go over.”

Jandeau raised his hand to signal a volley of cannons, but Captain John’s voice made them all pause. “Eliza will come across.”

Beck pivoted to stare openmouthed at Captain John. “’Tis too risky,” he said.

John glanced at him. “’Tis the best way to save my crew, her brother, and your bloody ship.”

Jandeau smiled fully, his men readying to raise the sails as soon as she swung across on one of the many ropes they had rigged for boarding helpless vessels. Eliza’s heart pounded, and she concentrated on drawing air into her lungs, releasing it to stop the pinpricks of light from marring her sight.

“Send Peter, and I will come,” Eliza yelled, the words sinking like daggers into her stomach. She was about to fly back into the devil’s nest, the setting of all her nightmares. The Bourreau and its swarm of stinking, rotten-toothed, black-souled pirates. They would surely rot in hell, but for now they walked the earth, raping, raging, and killing.

“You first, ma fille.”

“Ye foking devil,” Beck said next to her, and she curled her hands around the rail to prevent herself from pressing into him.

She inhaled fully. “At the same time,” she called back, steel in her voice despite the trembling she felt threatening to weaken her resolve. I will do this. I will save Peter and Captain John. But who would save her? Beck? Could he? Perhaps death would save her.

“Fight hard, my girl,” Captain John said quietly, catching her gaze. She saw resolution. Strength. Stubborn commitment. And no remorse for what he chose ten years ago.

Eliza nodded. “I will,” she whispered, blinking, and turned away to grab the long rope that one of Jandeau’s men threw across for her. She caught it, and Beck caught her wrist. She turned toward him, and for the first time she let down her mask of confidence. Let him see her for once, maybe for the last time. Let him see her fear and need to risk it all to rid herself of the shame she’d felt all these years.

“Eliza,” he said.

“I have to do this,” she said, letting him see the tears in her eyes, the need in the set of her mouth. “I have to do this.”

“I will get ye back,” he said, the words sounding serious enough to be an oath.

She gave him a slight grin. “If you want more of my tarts, you better.” Disentangling her arm from his grasp, she stepped up onto the barrel of fresh water next to them, grasping the rope up high. She looked down at the tight lines on Beck’s face, her stomach knotting with each rapid pounding of her heart. “Watch where I jump and fish me out. I will wait as long as I can for my uncle to reach us.”

“Not too long,” he said. “They will try to sail soon. Even if they do, jump.”

She gave a small nod, and he leaped up onto the barrel with her, pulling her into his arms. His lips came down on hers as his palm cupped her cheek. The kiss was perfect, warm and full of promise, but way too short. Jandeau’s men called lewd remarks in French across the way.

Beck kept his mouth close to hers as he spoke. “I will not let go.” They were the same words her adopted father had said when he saved her from Jandeau’s ship, yet they felt different. They felt more intense, a lifeline that she would wrap around herself no matter what happened. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and looked across to the Bourreau.

Peter stood opposite them, hoisted onto the rail, holding a rope one of her uncle’s men had swung across to him. His eyes were wide as he looked down at the choppy water between the ships.

“We go now, or I revoke my trade,” Jandeau said, glancing behind at the English ship closing in.

“Aye, now,” Eliza said.

“Un, deux, trois,” Jandeau counted, and Eliza launched herself into the air.

…

Beck held his breath as Eliza sailed across the space between their ships, barely noticing the boy slamming into Captain John next to him. He watched Jandeau’s men grab Eliza from the rope. I will kill them all! His stomach hardened to stone as they touched her everywhere, yanking out her daggers and dragging her over to Jandeau. With a flick of the French captain’s hand, the men left her there.

Jump! Jump, Eliza!But the ships were so close she could be crushed, and bloody Wentworth couldn’t bring his ship around with the wind blowing in his damn face. It wasn’t like one could row a goddamn galleon!

Jandeau wrapped a hand around her wrist, shackling her to him. Ifrinn chan eil!

“You are Peter Wentworth,” Captain John said next to him, and Beck glanced to see the boy nod. “Apologies for not rescuing you with your sister.”

“I… I do not remember her or any of you,” the boy said. He looked thin and dirty, no doubt suffering from being on the Bourreau for two months now. He looked back over at the pirates, who were raising their sails. “She is very brave, my sister.”

“The bravest woman I have ever known, lad,” John said. His gaze met Beck’s. “Get her back.”

“I swear it.”

Captain John gave a brief nod.

Liam came up to the rail. “What is the plan?” His expression seethed with hatred for Jandeau. “As soon as he gets his sails up, we will lose him.”

Beck motioned for Anders, Alice, and two Englishmen on deck to start raising the Calypso’s sails. If he could distract Jandeau from his plans of escape, Wentworth might manage to reach them. “Order the men to fire on my mark,” Beck said. “Aim away from Eliza.”

Liam dashed off, and Beck looked to John. “We can’t let him get away with her. We fire. All hands.” He glanced at Peter.

“Come, boy,” John said, towing the youth along. “’Tis time to learn how to fire a cannon.”

Beck looked up to Jasper at the helm. “Follow, no matter what,” he yelled. Jasper nodded, watching the large ship start to pull away.

“Sails up,” Beck called. “Ready. Fire!” he yelled, dropping his hand. The cannons ignited the gunpowder, sending the iron balls flying across, hitting the stern of the Bourreau.

He ran to the bow, his gaze on Eliza where she struggled against Jandeau’s hold, but the man wouldn’t let go. As if the devil knew what was in her mind, Jandeau ordered a crewman to tie a thick rope around them, binding them together. Daingead! The shots had started a fire on the Bourreau, but the men squelched it.

Wentworth’s galleon was still too far away to help them. All the Bourreau had to do was sail west and catch the wind blowing south. The Calypso could catch him, but if Wentworth gave up the chase, Eliza would be gone.

Nay! I will not let it happen! I cannot.He could live without everything in his life except for the one woman who had just sacrificed herself for her brother, her adopted family, and those on board the Calypso, including him.

Beck’s gaze snapped to the Bourreau. Then to the Calypso. Then to the dinghies and finally to Eliza. Time slowed as his heart hardened. Eliza strained to meet his gaze. There was understanding in it, and he hated that. Damn it all, he would not let her be taken! I sacrifice it all for her.

Boom! Crack!The Bourreau fired upon the Calypso. The ball splintered into the side of the ship, the pitch-soaked shot starting a fire.

“Fire on port!” Pip yelled from her spot on the main mast.

“Come down now,” Beck yelled. The wind-filled sails snapped, and Beck stared with determination, his mind settling on a plan. The wind was changing direction, and he was taking advantage of it.

Liam ran over to Beck and Captain John with a bucket of water to put out the small line of flames marking the deck with a black smudge. “Nay,” Beck said, stopping him. “Let it burn.”

“What?” Liam asked, confusion over his sweaty face.

“Get pitch and the whisky. Break open the barrels and run it along the decks and ropes.

“Bloody what?” Liam asked, his mouth hanging open.

Beck turned to look out at the slowing Bourreau. With forty guns it could blow the Calypso to smithereens, but the weight from all those cannons meant the Bourreau couldn’t outrun his bonny Calypso, especially when there wasn’t enough wind to fill its sails. “Light the ship and get everyone onto the dinghies.”

“Ye are sending the Calypso into the Bourreau?” Liam asked.

“Make the fire infernally hot. I’m taking a flaming hell straight to Jandeau.” He looked back out at the pirate galleon. “And then I’m sending Jandeau straight to hell.”

Captain John grabbed up a torch. Liam started dousing the lines with pitch. The rope would be a path for fire to follow up and into the sails. Beck grabbed a long coil of rope and raced down to the decks below. “Everyone off the ship!” he yelled to the Englishmen. “There are dinghies tied to the leeward side. Get the children and Alice off too.”

The men, used to taking orders, didn’t question his plan, and he was thankful. The plan to blow up his beautiful ship was not one he wanted to defend even if it was a small price to pay for the life of the woman he loved. Loved? Aye, love.

Beck ran down another level where twenty barrels of gunpowder sat. Hitting the other ship would make them explode. Once one went off, they would all blow. A floating bomb that would take out the Bourreau. He just had to make certain that Eliza was off it when it blew.

Taking the ladder at a full run, Beck climbed onto the deck. Everyone scattered, except Jasper, who steered the ship in an intersecting course with the Bourreau. He nodded down to Beck, having heard the plan.

“Bloody good man,” Beck murmured and ran back to help Liam and John finish dousing the lines and barrels on the deck with flammable pitch, its piney tang thick in the changing breeze.

Beck looked up to Jasper. “Tie the whipstaff in that position and get on a boat.” Beck turned to Liam and John at the rail. “Ye too. Get on the ship with Pip and Anders and Peter. Make sure they get to Eilean Mòr. Adam will figure out what happened if none of us return.”

“Get her back,” Captain John said.

Beck met his squinted stare. “It is the only thing I care about.”

John nodded, a look of respect in his gaze, and strode toward the back where the dinghies were being lowered and filled.

Liam remained. “I’m not leaving this ship except to jump across to the Bourreau and capture that bastard, Jandeau.”

“Liam, go!” Beck ordered.

Liam shook his head. “He stole my life. My family. My friends. I will make amends. I must.”

“Then we will swing across together,” Beck said, glancing upward at the dangling ropes from the yards above. “Ye go for Jandeau while I go for Eliza.”

Liam nodded, determination in his eyes, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

Blast!Cannon struck the Calypso, jarring Beck and almost knocking him off his feet. Jandeau must have realized that the lighter, swifter ship would catch him. Did he know yet that it would be a fire ship?

The wind fed the flames, helping them to grow along the lines up into the sails. They crackled and popped with the moisture, but the flammable pine pitch carried it along, giving the fire the opportunity to feed and grow despite the sea spray as the Calypso shot through the waves. His ship was quickly becoming a lit arrow on course for Jandeau’s black heart.

…

The Calypso was bursting into flames before Eliza’s eyes as it sailed toward them. Her heart hammered at the sight of fire licking up the masts. Wicked hell! Had one of the cannonballs that Jandeau fired hit something flammable? Didn’t Beck have buckets of seawater standing about?

“You said you’d let them go!” she yelled at Jandeau, struggling against the rope tied around her waist like a dog’s leash. “And yet you fired on them again.”

“They got what they wanted,” Jandeau said and sucked on his front teeth. His black eyes turned toward her. “And I got what I wanted.” His hand rose to touch the bare skin along her neck. She couldn’t pull away since they were tied together around the waist, and revulsion pulsed through her, making her stiffen.

“Let them go,” she said, as his hand slid down her skin to cup her breast through her tunic.

“I said they could have Peter, but I didn’t say they could stay alive with him. I have a reputation to uphold,” he said.

“A reputation for rape, thievery, and murder,” she shot back, no longer able to stand his touch. “You ruttish, fly-bitten barnacle!” She raised her hand and slapped him across the face, hard enough to turn his head.

Jandeau’s face slowly turned back to her, death in the set of his eyes. He bent closer as she breathed quickly, her heart wild as she waited for his retaliation. If he killed her now, she wouldn’t have to endure his touch. His hard face lowered to inches before hers, and she gasped as his hand dropped to her crotch. With a shove, he grabbed her between the legs, her trews the only layer between his hand and the intimate crux of her body. She tried to back away, but he was too strong, holding her there as if he could crush her bones in his hand. “I will be sure to live up to my reputation with you, ma fille.”

She stood there, his hand still dominating her, and shook her head. “What would your mother think, Claude Jandeau?” She put all her loathing into her words, her eyes narrowed on him. “How her son treats women and girls and children. Such shame you bring to her.” She met his rat-like black eyes without blinking. Did he notice the slight tremble she could feel growing inside?

His lips rolled back, showing white teeth. “Ma mère thought of very little and did very little but lie on her back and open her legs, which is something you will be doing as soon as I sink this annoying little carrack.”

Jandeau dropped his hand from her crotch, his gaze turning to assess the location of the Calypso and the English ship. His jaw was concealed by the raised wool collar of his captain’s coat, but she could see the tension in his forehead.

The revulsion at Jandeau’s cruel anchoring had bubbled acid up in her stomach. She turned her gaze back to her one hope, Beck. Her breath stopped. Beck and Liam were running about the Calypso’s deck with…torches, not buckets. Her lips parted on a whispered curse. “By the devil’s ballocks.”

Beck was setting his ship on fire. She could see now that the rest of the small crew was gone from the decks, and the ship was sailing on an intersecting course.

“Un brûlot!” one of the pirates yelled.

“Aye,” she said, “a fire ship.” Fire ships were just like they sounded, ships set on fire to be sailed directly into the enemy, a lit arrow with tons of gunpowder behind it. Eliza could barely draw breath at the sight. Beck was standing on a ton of gunpowder, surrounded by flames. What was he thinking, the bloody fool?

I will not let go.

“Oh, Beck,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. He was using the only weapon he had left that could stop Jandeau from taking her away. His beautiful carrack ship that he had built himself. He’d poured everything that was strong and beautiful within him into it. And he was destroying it.

I will not let go.

“It will hit!” a crewman with a nasty scar across his cheek yelled.

Jandeau yelled orders in French. Cannons exploded, hitting the incoming fire ship. Did he think they could sink it before it reached them? Fool. There was nothing stopping the flaming arrow flying across the waves. The blazing Calypso was certainly going to hit. The question was, how would she and Beck survive it?