Star keeper, p.15
Star Keeper, page 15
“You wouldn’t!”
“Yes, Annette, I would. I have more than fifty lives depending on me. I can’t risk your alerting the British.” He hesitated, then continued, “There is something else. None of your family knows about the British officer coming here. There will be no finger pointing at your household, but you know. And I cannot take the chance of something slipping out.” His eyes were intense, emerald. “If anyone, anyone at all, suspected you had harbored the Star Rider, then all of you would be suspect.”
She realized he was right. He had put her entire family in terrible danger. “Why my father? Leave him here.”
“Would you go without him?”
He had trapped her. Very neatly. “Where?”
“Somewhere where he will be safe, where he can receive more help.”
“Why should I believe you now?”
“Do you really think I would cause him harm?” His voice had gentled.
For a moment, she remembered his kindness with her father, the spark of interest only he had brought to her father’s eyes. She believed him in this one thing. At least she believed that he meant no harm. Yet how could kidnapping him be considered “not harming”?
“You already have,” she said. “As you said, the British may not forgive the household that gave comfort to a man they want above all others.”
“We have no more time.” His voice hardened again. “Write the letter.”
“I have no paper.”
He took some from the desk, paper he’d requested from her earlier to write a letter, paper on which he’d written his own note. “Now,” he said.
She sat down and he stood above her, watching impatiently.
The pirate—the man she thought she’d loved—didn’t feel she was working fast enough. “All right, then, I’ll tell my men to round everyone up. The British wounded might be a problem.”
She knew exactly what he was implying. “You wouldn’t!”
“You think not?” he said. “I have men nearly dead from starvation in your British prison waiting for me.”
His eyes were a cold glittering green. He looked nothing like the roguish young lieutenant now. She shivered. She believed him capable of anything. She couldn’t take the chance that he might indeed use the wounded as pawns. She bent her head and wrote. She’d received word late tonight that her aunt Agnes was deathly ill with a fever, and had no one to help her. The lieutenant was leaving for New York. She had decided to go with him for protection. Her father would go with her; he and his sister were very close. But the journey would be too hard on Franklin, and Maude needed Betsy’s help. She hoped to return shortly.
He took it and read it quickly. “Very good,” he said approvingly, and she wanted to slap him. He folded it. “I will leave it in the front hall.”
He took her arm and guided her out of the room. Two men were standing there. “Take her to the carriage. I’ll be there shortly.” He looked at one of the men. “You stay with her in the carriage. Tom, go up the stairs to the second room on the left, and grab some clothes for Miss Carey, including a warm cloak.”
“How kind,” she said sarcastically.
“I try to please,” he said.
Then he disappeared down the hall, leaving her in the hands of two rebels.
God’s mercy, but how he wanted to reassure her. Despite her gallant attempts to hide her apprehension, he saw it in her eyes. Not for herself, but for her father. I will never be helpless again. He remembered her vow.
And it had taken every bit of will inside him to force the coldness into his voice, the threats to his lips. He had made her helpless again, and he knew she would never forgive him for it. She would never stop fighting him.
John Patrick hated everything about this. He’d sent a man to check on Noel, but his brother was gone, as was Malcomb. Noel was undoubtedly at the general’s ball. He’d left a letter, quickly written in the captain’s cabin of the Mary Ann, at Noel’s house.
But his brother would never understand his actions, either, even though John Patrick did have good reasons for what he’d done. He was confident his family could help Hugh Carey. He was convinced of it, just as surely as he knew they would welcome the Careys. And he felt the Careys would be far safer in Maryland than in Philadelphia for the next few months. But he could tell her none of this. She simply wouldn’t believe him.
He climbed the stairs, taking an oil lamp from a table in the hallway. God’s mercy, but time was running out; there was no telling when someone would discover the jailbreak. He didn’t knock at Hugh’s door but opened it gently. Franklin, he knew, slept in a small room next door.
John Patrick went to the bed and gently shook Hugh Carey. When the man’s eyes opened, he put a hand to the man’s mouth. “I don’t want to wake everyone, but your daughter is going on a trip, and we thought you might like to go.”
Hugh just looked at him. John Patrick was already gathering a pair of trousers and shirt from a dresser. He also found a heavy cloak and tossed it over his arms. “We have no time,” he whispered. “It is going to be a grand adventure.”
He flinched at the look of trust, even of interest, that flickered in the older man’s eyes as he helped him dress.
Several minutes later, he was leading him out to the closed carriage. He helped him into a seat next to Annette, and took the one opposite her. The carriage moved forward with a lurch, and soon was careening through the streets toward the docks.
Annette was ominously quiet as she held her father’s hand and pulled her cloak around her. John Patrick knew that only her father’s presence kept her from lashing out at him. She obviously did not want to frighten him. But her knuckles were white, the fingers of her free hand balled into a fist.
The carriage came to a stop, and one of his men was there waiting, opening the door. Still no troops. Luck was staying with them.
As he hurried his passengers toward the gangplank, he held out his hand to Annette. She pushed past it, casting him a look of total contempt, only to have the hem of her skirt catch on the rough wood. He reached out quickly to steady her. But once more, she flinched at his touch, and he quickly released her.
He bowed slightly to Hugh Carey. “You will stay in the captain’s cabin. Ivy will show you to your quarters.”
John Patrick watched the two men go below, then glanced at Annette’s white face. “You will have the first mate’s cabin.”
“And you, Captain?” she asked. “Where will you stay?”
“I think I’ve just been demoted to second mate.” He hesitated, then looked up at the sky. “It’s poor weather to be on deck. You should go inside.”
“A pirate concerned about the health of his prisoners?” Her voice was stinging.
“Aye.”
“Well, I do not want your concern, or your worry. I wish to stay out here.” Her chin lifted in that singularly determined way.
He had no time to argue with her. “As you wish.”
Then he turned and started issuing orders, watching her closely as the gangplank was pulled on board. Her last avenue of escape was gone, her last hope that somehow the British would stop them. He saw from her face that she knew it.
He stifled a curse, then turned his attention to the ship.
Despite herself, Annette’s interest was piqued by all the activity around her. She had never been aboard a ship before, and it seemed like magic, the way the sails were so efficiently unfurled.
The sailors wearing British uniforms had already discarded their costumes, and worked companionably as they untied the thick ropes holding the ship to the dock. She heard their murmured comments as they unloosed additional sails. She watched the Star Rider move among them, observed their almost reverent glances as they looked at him. He seemed to have a word for each one, a warm clasp, a smile.
The smile he had once given her.
The lights on deck were quenched, then, but his tall form was unmistakable as he strode to the wheel of the ship, taking it from the man who had guided them from the dock. The ship shifted under her feet as the sails began to fill. The night was cold, and she felt the first drops of rain. She shivered, yet she couldn’t force herself to go inside as the ship sliced quietly through the water. The lights on the shore faded as they moved into the channel, toward the Atlantic. Away from Philadelphia. Away from home. Away from safety.
The rain pasted her hair against her cheek. Her cloak was sodden. Yet she still didn’t want to go inside. She was leaving everything familiar and safe. She was the captive of a ruthless man, and yet … yet she felt an odd excitement, an exhilaration she’d never known before. She didn’t understand it.
She should feel fear and panic. Why didn’t she?
She looked at the wheel, at the man standing there, and was caught by the power and confidence with which he steered the unwieldy vessel. She saw the white flash of teeth and knew he was grinning from the pure joy of the challenge.
The rain stung her face, but she leaned out over the railing. Even as his prisoner, she felt a curious sense of freedom. She had not realized how constricted she had felt in Philadelphia. She’d had to surrender freedom she’d never appreciated when her home was burned and she was forced into a society where her worth had diminished when her father’s wealth had disappeared. How she’d longed to race across the fields, or dig her bare toes into fresh earth or sit in a barn watching new life being born.
She felt that same deep sense of elation now. It did not make sense, and she fought it, and yet …
She continued to stand in the rain, watching the shore rush by her. When would the British discover the disappearance of one of their ships? Would others come after them?
Annette was still looking toward the shore when she felt his presence. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Her nerve ends started to tingle, and heat rushed to her cheeks.
“It is cold out here, Miss Carey.”
Why then did she suddenly feel hot?
“You said that before. I am no fragile flower.”
“I’ve discovered that,” he said softly. “My side keeps warning me to watch you carefully.”
I did not intend that. She did not say the words, though. She had felt shock after the pistol had discharged, dismay at seeing the blood. She stared out at the water, not wanting him to see the regret in her eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be steering the ship?”
“Ivy can handle it.” His voice was seductive.
She shivered, but this time it wasn’t from cold. Despite what she knew, he still had the ability to stir her, to awaken all her senses. She’d never been so aware of anyone before. She fought desperately against those wayward feelings. “Ah, Ivy. He is much more than a stable hand.”
“He is my first mate.”
“What ship is this?”
“His Majesty’s ship, the Mary Ann, soon to be the new Star Rider.”
“Where’s the real crew?”
“I imagine the officers are at Howe’s ball, most of the others in taverns, and the few who were on watch are now sleeping peacefully below deck.”
“Where are you going to take us?”
“Somewhere safe,” he said. “You and your father will be treated as guests.”
“Where?” she insisted.
She could almost feel his indecision. It was rare for him, she’d discovered in the past few hours. “My home in Maryland.”
She was surprised, but she hid it well. His home? “You cannot keep us there forever.”
“Just until the British leave Philadelphia. I do not think that will be long.”
She hadn’t looked at him until then. “I will go inside now. I do not care for the company.”
“You look as if you enjoy the rain and wind.”
“I enjoyed the cleansing nature of it. I thought it might wash away the stench of betrayal, but I was wrong.”
She turned away from him, but found his body blocking her passage.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said.
She couldn’t read his eyes. It was too dark, and the rain too heavy. “That’s nice,” she replied icily. “Good intentions often lead to—where?”
His hand wiped rain away from his face. “To hell? I might well find my way there, but for now I can only apologize.”
“It means nothing, Mr. Gunn. Or shall I say Star Rider? That is what the broadside said.”
“Gunn is an old family name.”
“Really? I would have thought your family tree rather shorter than that.”
The side of his mouth turned up. “A nicely turned insult.”
“But true.” Tired of sparring with him, she tried again to maneuver around him.
He stood aside. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
“I would rather you didn’t. If you can tell me where to go.”
“Down the hatch, then turn left at the passageway. The first cabin is your father’s. The next is yours.”
“It has a lock?”
He chuckled. “Aye, Miss Carey, but a lock wouldn’t keep me out if I wanted to enter.”
“No, I don’t suppose it would,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “It is your ship, your crew.”
Holding her head as high as she could, she made her way toward the hatch. He didn’t try to follow her and she was grateful. Her hands clasped the wall to keep from falling; her legs seemed like tender young stalks, easily bent and folded. A chill caught her and she felt herself shake. The exhilaration of a few moments earlier was gone, lost in the weariness that suddenly overwhelmed her. Weariness and isolation.
She found the first cabin, knocked, then tried the door. It was unlocked. Her father was asleep, stretched out on a wide bed in a very large and elaborate cabin. A strange man was sitting in a chair when she opened the door, but he immediately stood. He was thin and haggard, his clothes in tatters, but his lean face was attractive.
He bowed. “You must be Miss Carey. The captain told me you would probably come by.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Quinn, the ship’s surgeon.”
“You are British?”
“No, ma’am. I was with the captain when our Star Rider sank. Then I was a guest of the British in the Walnut Street Prison,” he said with some anger.
“You all escaped?”
“Thanks to the captain. We knew he wouldn’t leave us.”
“How—?”
“He is a man of many talents.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Your father is doing well,” he assured her. “Ivy gave him a glass of brandy and he is sleeping peacefully now.”
“You do not understand.”
“Aye, but I do. The captain explained your circumstances in detail. You are welcome to come and go as you wish.”
“We are prisoners,” she said.
“Not according to the captain.”
“You can call a pig a swan, but it is still a pig.”
He smiled slowly.
“You can go,” she said. “I will stay here for a while.”
“As you will,” he said. “Anyone can find me if you need help.”
She didn’t answer as the door closed behind him, and she sat close to the bed, beside her father.
Chapter 12
John Patrick watched Annette leave the deck. Her back was straight, her chin high, and that blaze of anger in her eyes remained with him.
She despised him, and rightly so.
Noel was going to be none too happy, either. How many times had he promised to do nothing to hurt the Careys?
He’d done damage to good people tonight, people who had helped him, befriended him. He wanted to go to her and take her in his arms, but she wouldn’t welcome his comfort. And God knew he had caused her enough grief.
But neither could he leave her standing in the rain and possibly getting sick. If there was one thing he knew, it was that his presence outside would probably force her inside. And it had.
He stood in the rain himself after she left. He lifted his face to the sky, willing the elements to wash away the guilt he felt. He should feel elation as he watched his crew work together again, as he felt the ship race before the wind. He was free, his crew was free, and he had a ship once more.
Instead, he felt only defeat. Even at his worst moments in the British navy, he’d never experienced this kind of desolation. How do you reclaim your soul? Your honor?
How do you judge one set of loyalties against another?
He’d made his decision. He’d made it for his men, his country. And in doing so, he’d betrayed a family that had taken him in, made him one of their own.
“Cap’n?”
He turned to see Seamus, an Irishman and his second mate. He had been one of the men taken by the British.
“Yes?”
“On behalf of all the men, we want to thank ye,” Seamus said. “When we saw Ivy’s ugly face, we knew you would get us out of tha’ hellhole.”
“You’re welcome, Seamus,” John Patrick said.
“Anyone else would ha’ left us there. We all know tha’. We’ll sail to hell with ye and back.”
John Patrick tried to smile. “I hope it will not come to that.”
Seamus grinned. “Not wi’ ye as captain.” He backed away before John Patrick could say anything else.
John Patrick knew he should feel better, but he didn’t. He left the railing and went to the wheel. Wordlessly, Ivy moved over.
“It looks as if we’ve made it,” Ivy said after a moment.
“Aye. For now at least. I suspect there will be British ships at the mouth of the Delaware.”
“We’re flying the British flag, and it’s a British frigate.”
“But we don’t know their signals. The signal book was missing from the captain’s cabin. He must have taken it with him.”
“Or they are changing them.”
John Patrick was silent.
“You didn’t have a choice, Captain,” Ivy said.
“Are you a mind reader now?”
“Fa,” Ivy replied. “Where are you taking them?”
“Home. To Maryland.”
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Your family? How are they going to feel about your delivering two Tories to their doorstep?”
