So, we're heading straight into the lion's den, are we?
Quickly, or at least as quickly as I was currently capable of, I made my way through the crowd of pirates, catching up to Mr Ambrose just before he stepped onto the gangplank of his flagship.
"Are you sure about this?" I whispered.
He glanced at the gangplank, then at me, then back at the gangplank. Then he stepped onto it.
"Yes."
"Not about stepping on the bloody plank!" I hissed. "I meant about this! All of this!" As inconspicuously as possible, I gestured as the flagship, the small feet of three pirate ships gathered around it, and the vessel that belonged to the messenger, all waiting to set out. "Going with the fellow who works for your ruthless, murderous competitor? The man whose loyal pet pirate you just killed off?"
"You mean poor Captain Briggs? What a tragedy that was! Such an unfortunate sailing accident."
I stared at him. "You really think they'll buy that? You really think the pirates will support that story?"
"Since I've taken over, their earnings have been multiplied by two point six five. What do you think?"
I hated it when he had a point.
"Well...that might be true. Still—"
"Shh!"
He cut me off abruptly. Quickly, I glanced around. We had just stepped onto the ship, and no one seemed to be around anywhere on the vessel. The sailors were already rushing to their posts, not paying attention to us. Why...?
"Greetings, Captain!"
Oh.
Right there, at the railing of the other ship, only a few dozen yards away, stood the messenger.
The messenger from the man who tried to sink your ship. Who wanted to drown you alive. You and your child.
My face hardened. Maybe paying a visit to this "employer" might be a good idea after all.
"Greetings, Mr..." My husband cocked his head. "I think you have yet to introduce yourself."
"Oh." The young man winced. "Beg your pardon. I was so focused on my mission that I completely forgot." Squaring his shoulder, he bowed in my husband's direction. "Marvin Woolridge, at your service."
"They call me Rockface." Mr Ambrose gave a curt nod in return. "At your service, for a price."
"Naturally, naturally." The messenger gave us—or more precisely, Captain Rockface—a blinding smile. "You shall be compensated to your fullest satisfaction."
At that, I had to work really hard to keep an evil smirk off my face. Compensate to his fullest satisfaction? Mr Rikkard Ambrose?
Oh my. The poor bastard had no clue what he was in for. I almost felt sorry for him.
The man who tried to drown you and your child.
Almost.
"As soon as you find that abominable blaggard who has been raiding our employer's ships, of course," Woolridge added.
"Oh, believe me," Mr Ambrose assured him, "finding that man will not be difficult for me."
This time, the evil smirk was simply too powerful to resist, so instead, I hid it behind a hand. Just as I did with the fierce glare I sent at Mr Woolridge.
"Good, good!" Nodding happily, said son of a bachelor sent us a smile and stepped back from the railing. "I suppose we'd better be off then, shouldn't we?"
"Agreed. Better to not waste time."
Gesturing to his first mate, Mr Ambrose gave the order to depart. Soon, all five ships unfurled their sales and started moving away from the shore, out onto the ocean.
"Are you really sure about this?" I whispered, repeating my earlier question. Regardless of how very, very much I wanted to smash the head of the bastard behind everything we'd been through, I was acutely aware that there were only two of us, one of whom was very much pregnant. "Heading straight into the lion's den?"
"We're not heading into the lion's den," he corrected, keeping his voice low—although that didn't make it any less threatening. "We're going to the nest of the bird who picks flies out of the lion's fur. And we're going to squeeze it until it sings."
Translation: we're going to see a front man. The real mastermind is far away. And we're going to find out where.
"So you plan to..."
"Discover who's behind this?" His hand shifted towards me, inconspicuously squeezing my hand. "Find out who dared to try and lay a hand on you and our child? Most definitely. And when I find them..." Eyes narrowing infinitesimally, he stared at the messenger's ship as if he could set it on fire with a look alone. Or, more likely, drop an iceberg on it. "I will make my displeasure clear."
I felt a shiver run down my back.
Good. Very good.
But...
"And you're really going to do this? With only three ships as escort?"
"Yes, I am. And..."
"And?"
"Who says there will only be three?"
My eyes went wide. "You mean...?"
Ice-cold eyes met mine, reminding me of who exactly I was dealing with. Who exactly our enemies were dealing with.
"I mean, Mr Linton, that I am always well prepared."
***
The city was a beautiful place—but certainly not one I had expected to see around here. My mental image of the Caribbean—which, admittedly, was rather biased after the last few weeks—was one of coconut trees, banana plants, and picturesque wooden huts at the shore. It was not one of elegant, classical white villas, decorated with columns and arches, which looked like they'd been plucked straight from classical Greece. All that was missing was a Spartan hoplite marching down the beach.
Sidling up to where Mr Ambrose stood at the prow of his flagship, I leaned over towards him. "Did I miss something? Did we accidentally sail the wrong way and end up in southern Europe of all places?"
"Unlikely, Mr Linton."
"Then what the heck is this place?"
"I have never been to this particular place before, myself. But if I were to guess? Hamilton. Which would make this the island of Bermuda, one of the few remaining British colonies in the Caribbean."
I frowned. "First your ships are attacked by a completely English-speaking pirate crew, now we find they were organized from a British colony? Call me a pessimist, but things seem to be pointing in a certain direction." Fists tightening I stared at one of the elegant white buildings. "Or rather, in a certain someone's direction."
Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.
I didn't speak the name out loud. But did I really need to? The man was Mr Ambrose's arch-rival. The only other man in the British Empire who could compete with him in wealth and power. And, more importantly, a man who had absolutely no compunctions about using that power to ruthlessly exterminate his enemies.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Mr Rikkard Ambrose's face. It was unmoving as ever, and yet, somehow, there was a tension there that hadn't been there before.
I swallowed.
"Do you think that Dalglie—"
Abruptly, he raised a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. I was about to ask why, when I heard the footsteps approaching from behind.
"Report!" Mr Ambrose barked without turning around. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the first mate approaching, coming to a halt only a few feet away.
"Aye aye, Captain! We're approaching the island, Captain! Shall we find a quiet bay to anchor in?"
"No. Sail into the harbour."
The first mate blinked. "Sail...into the harbour?"
"Yes."
"Um...with cannons firing?"
"No. With the Jolly Roger not flying. We are here to meet someone, not shoot them and loot their house."
"Um...aye aye, Captain!"
With a disappointed look on his face, the first mate turned around and started to slink off, until—
"And about our other ships..."
The pirate stopped in place. "Yes?"
"Find a quiet bay for them to anchor. Make sure they stay out of sight until the time comes."
I could practically feel the grin spreading across the pirate's face. "Aye aye, Captain!"
With those words, the first mate whirled around and dashed off, shouting commands to his men.
"So..." Taking a deep breath, I turned back to face the swiftly approaching island. "We are going to do this. We're going to meet our 'employer'."
"Indeed."
"And we are going to head into the unknown, with the only people at our back being bloodthirsty pirates who betrayed their last captain at the drop of a hat because a certain someone gave them more loot?"
"Indeed."
"Oh joy."
"Don't worry." He reached out and patted my shoulder. "At least there is someone by your side who you know will always protect you."
"Oh, I know!" Bending down, I ruffled Fence's fur, scratching behind his ears. "You won't leave me behind, will you? You'll always be there to protect me. Good boy! Such a good boy!"
"Woof! Woof, woof!"
With another pat, I straightened once again and gave Mr Rikkard Ambrose a bright smile.
"Mr Linton?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Why. Is. That. Dog. Here?"
I blinked up at him, innocently. "Dog? What dog?"
He gave me a look. One of those looks. "Mr Linton."
"Oh, that dog!" I glanced down, eyes widening in most earnest surprise. "I wonder how that got here."
"So do I, Mr Linton."
"Ah, well." I shrugged, and batted my eyelashes at him innocently. It would probably have been more effective if I weren't still dressed as a fat ship's cook. "I guess he must have snuck onto the ship to protect me, all on his own. Isn't he a brave one?"
The look Mr Ambrose gave me in response was not in the least appreciative of dear Fence's bravery.
"Follow me." Turning around, he gestured for me to follow. Curious, I followed as he headed to the captain's cabin.
"Where are we going?"
"We'll be heading back into civilization soon. I thought you might want to change. Unless you want to step off the gangplank in your I'm-a-pirate attire?"
Wear my pirate outfit on a pier riddled with town guards, navy personnel and potential lynch mob members?
I shuddered. No. No, thank you. I most certainly did not want to do that.
"Do we have anything else to dress in, though?" I questioned. "I didn't pack anything."
"Did you forget so soon?" Pulling open the door to the captain's cabin, he gestured into the interior. "I'm always well-prepared."
I looked inside—and my jaw dropped. Inside the small room, countless bespoke suits, uniforms and other kinds of brand-new, shiny clothes were stacked on chairs and hanging from hooks on the wall. Clothes that were a hell of a lot cleaner than what I was currently wearing. Most of them didn't even have bloodstains on them. And...oh my! There was a bucket of water in the corner. Actual, clean water, and soap! A real, honest-to-god bar of soap!
I didn't even hesitate a second. Diving towards the heavenly bucket, which right now seemed a thousand times more alluring than all the hot baths I had ever taken, I started to divest myself of my clothes in quick succession. I hardly noticed the click as the door shut behind me. The moment I was rid of the rags that had passed for my clothing, I grabbed the bucket and started splashing the water all over myself, uncaring of the drops that hit the floor.
Aaaahhh...
This was it. This was what I'd been missing all this time!
It wasn't like I hadn't had access to water before—but, as a castaway, I didn't exactly have much leisure time for bathing at the beach. I was far too busy trying to survive. And later, in the pirate camp, I might have had plenty of time, but I also had an audience of several hundred raunchy pirates. Not my thing, thank you very much.
Now, however...
Now, I was completely, blissfully alone, with the cool, refreshing water running over my sweaty limbs as my only companion. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, until all the dirt and grime of several weeks was gone, and my skin once more felt as smooth and fresh as a baby's bottom.
"Aaah...!" Stretching, I wrapped a towel around my shoulders and snuggled into the soft fabric. "That was liberating."
"Liberating indeed, Mr Linton," came a cold voice from behind me.
I froze.
Only then did I start to remember that this room, other than me, might still have one more occupant.
"Um...Mr Ambrose? You still there?"
"Indeed."
Oops.
I swallowed, suddenly very aware of the icy gaze that was drilling a hole into my back. The gaze of a predator, wanting to devour me whole. I turned around, only to find a half-dressed Mr Rikkard Ambrose staring at myself.
My currently very wet self, dressed in nothing but a single towel.
Ah. So...maybe I wasn't alone in here after all.
I swallowed. "Um...Mr Ambrose, Sir..."
He was across the room before I could get out so much as another word. In a blink, he had trapped me in my little corner of the cabin, and I could see nothing but his sculpted body and perfect, chiselled face.
Leaning forward, he speared me with his arctic gaze.
"Mrs Ambrose."
Just two little words. Just my name. A name that definitely should not be spoken out loud here, close to within earshot of a horde of pirates. Yet...gazing into his eyes, those dark, blue-grey pools of unfathomable depths, I found I couldn't bring myself to care.
"Y-you shouldn't say that!" I hissed. "Not here! Not now!"
"Indeed?" He cocked his head, eyes glittering. "Well then...instead of words, I'll have to let my actions speak for me."
The only warning I received was the momentary flash of intent in his arctic eyes. Then he crossed the last bit of distance, and his mouth plunged down towards mine.
----------------------------------------
My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
Pirate Captain Ambrose is ready to do some plundering, eh? I almost think he is really a historical figure. It would certainly explain why the word "booty" refers to both a lady's derriere and lots of money ;-)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob