They would not be dragged to the gallows and mocked as they died. Warriors all, they would battle their enemies to the death. Mal had claimed they would triumph, as they had done before, but she knew of a certainty that this time courage would not be enough.
In her arms, her young one squirmed. Ah, but so strong and tall already! “Me da!”
“Aye, Father goes to battle,” she murmured.
Then, high atop the hill, she saw the enemy.
They came in one great mass. Thousands…and thousands…
She turned, tall, straight, no tears flowing down her cheeks now. With Gordon helping her along, she hurried to the water, where the tender waited. An oarsman, cloaked, his head down, sat ready.
“Hurry, man, hurry!” Gordon cried. “Ye must get her to the ship.”
The oarsman rose and cast back his hood, and she looked in the man’s eyes. Her heart leapt to her throat as she saw his face.
“Nay, I shall not,” the oarsman said.
Gordon drew his sword, but the oarsman was ready. As fine and experienced a warrior as Gordon, his hand was already at the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak, and when he lifted his blade, it was to slice Gordon through.
She no longer felt or heard the wind. Her vision was clear now, and all she saw was red. A sea of it before her…
Madness struck her then. She reached for the dirk in the sheath at her waist, and she attacked.
The oarsman screamed in pain and rage, and responded instantly.
Fiona never felt the steel as it ripped into her. She heard her heart, though. Thumping, erratic and fast, pumping out her life’s blood….
Her heart cried out. Malcolm, my love, it seems that in truth we do not part after all today, for there is a heaven for those who have been just and strong….
“Mother!”
Her child! Her precious child! She tried to cry out, but she had no breath.
As she lay dying, she heard his laughter.
And then there was screaming. But the sound did not come from her. As the world faded, she was dimly aware that the oarsman was pushing off from shore, and her child, still so young, yet old enough to see, to know what was happening, was being swept away by sheer evil.
CHAPTER ONE
The Caribbean
Pirates’ Alley
1716
“OUTGUNNED, OUTSAILED, outmanned, out…blasted! Damn it all! Bring her about and set to speed. Full sail,” Logan Haggerty cried, teeth grating, eyes narrowed, fury all but blinding him as he stared at the pirate ship headed his way.
“Captain, we are at full sail, and blimey, we’re tryin’ to come about,” Logan’s first mate, Jamie McDougall assured him. Jamie was an old salt, an honest merchantman impressed into the navy, he’d moved on to piracy and then been pardoned back into the King’s own service. If there were a trick to be played upon the brine, Jamie knew it.
If there were a way to outrun a pirate, Jamie knew that, too.
If they were sunk through the greed and egotism of the aristocracy, well, Jamie would know that, as well.
Logan had informed the duke that there were pirates in the area and explained his own disadvantage due to the lack of manpower he had aboard, should they be boarded. He had explained, as well, that the weight of their cargo would drastically affect their speed and maneuverability.
But the duke hadn’t cared.
Logan had ten guns.
The pirate had twenty he could easily count, perhaps more, and Logan’s spyglass assured him that the crew upon the pirate vessel numbered at least two dozen men.
He traveled with a crew of twelve.
The vessel bearing down on them, sporting a scarlet flag, was handsome indeed. She was a sloop, sleek and fast, riding across the waves as smoothly as if she were soaring through the air. She had a narrow draft, and would easily be able to escape larger ships in the shallows. The craft was well-fitted, he could see. Besides the larger cannon pointing their way, he could see that the upper deck was fitted with a row of swivel guns, and those with many barrels.
She was a beauty and had been altered for her life of crime. Three masts, when many sloops offered but the mainmast, and with sails that caught the slightest breeze. Her tenders were situated behind the swivel guns, allowing no space for weakness. She was small, sleek and strong.
He had known better than to enter pirate territory, but pride had been his downfall.
Ah, yes, his own pride, even more than that of the nobility he mocked, who had tempted him into daring this voyage despite his original vehement refusal to accept the assignment.
And how had the duke managed that? Logan mocked himself then. Why, because of Cassandra.
Sweet Cassandra. He had been sure he could win her love if he just had enough money. His bloodline was noble enough, but his circumstances were far too impoverished to secure her to him. But if he made a success of this mission, he could return triumphant and regain all that his family had lost. No, that had been stolen from them. If he could challenge the sea and make this voyage, he would be worthy. She was the prize that mattered if he succeeded in this breakneck dash to bring the gold of the temple of Asiopia to the colonists in Virginia.
Now he realized that he had been a fool indeed. And why? What was it about the woman that had so beguiled him that he would attempt such a reckless endeavor? He had spent his life knowing he must make his own way, and he had known both harlots and great ladies. He had shown them courtesy one and all, but never had he felt such a tug upon his feelings, or this desire to settle down. It wasn’t that she was a tease or temptress, that she made demands or ever threatened to play false. It was the laughter in her flashing, quicksilver eyes, the gentle touch of her fingertips, and, most of all, the honesty in her every word and action. He could love her; really love her. There was more, as well, of course, which he could admit in his own heart. She would be the perfect mate for him. She was the only child of a respected and wealthy family. With her name joined to his, he could reclaim all that had once been his family’s, rebuild the Haggerty fortune. She was everything he could have hoped for in his life’s partner.
He could not blame her for his own willingness to take this risk. He did not even blame her father, who merely wanted security for his only child.
If there was any blame, it fell only upon his own shoulders.
A mocking inner voice taunted him for a liar and a fraud.
He had said that he sailed because he needed the money, but that wasn’t wholly true. He was always eager to sail the seas. Eager to find one man.
And that man lived upon the seas, outside the law.
Logan even claimed that he sought justice, not revenge, though were he honest with himself, he would have to concede that vengeance, too, was in his mind and heart.
He should have carried more guns, he told himself now. He should have brought more men, but he needed men he trusted for the battle he hoped to engage, and such men were hard to find.
Still, if there was any blame for his current predicament, it was his.
These were dangerous times to sail the seas. When England and Holland had been at war with Spain and France, many so-called pirates saw themselves as fighting a righteous battle. In an English ship, he would have been at the mercy only of a French or Spanish ship. But when the combatants had come to terms in 1697, privateers littered the sea.
Many had nothing to go home to.
Many had no desire to go home. Waging war upon the sea had become a way of life.
And