Ambrosia looked at the line of pitched roofs, outlined in the fading light of evening. Then she hiked up her skirts, cursing the fact that they would make her and her sisters clumsy. How she longed for a pair of breeches. "We come from a long line of seamen who've been climbing rigging since we could walk. We can certainly leap a few rooftops, if that's what it takes to gain our freedom."
Geoffrey Lambert chuckled. "That's my girl." He turned to Riordan, who was looking at them as if they were all addled. "Come on, lad. What have we got to lose?"
"Just our lives," Riordan muttered as he followed the three women to the very edge of the roof. "What about Mistress Coffey and Miss Mellon?"
"I was considered quite athletic in my youth," Winifred Mellon said haughtily. "I should think a few rooftops wouldn't be much of a challenge."
"And you, Mistress Coffey?" Riordan asked.
Her face had turned a shade pale. But she lifted her skirts, determined to keep up. "If Miss Mellon can jump rooftops, I shall do the same."
"Where will we go if we become separated?" Darcy whispered.
The others paused and glanced toward Riordan. Without hesitation he said, "The Sea Challenge's at the bottom of the ocean by now. What's say we take Sledge's ship, the Skull?"
"Aye." Ambrosia clenched a fist by her side. "It seems only fair."
"It's agreed then." Bethany clasped her sister's hand. "We run to the docks and swim to the Skull."
"Aye. And we must set sail before dawn." Riordan glanced at the others, to make certain they understood. "Else we'll never get out of this harbor alive. So we must all agree to leave before dawn, even if some of our party doesn't make it. Do you swear?"
"Aye," the others called in unison.
Through the small window of the upper room they heard the shouts and oaths of the pirates as they discovered the body of their comrade, and realized the prisoners had escaped.
"Now," Riordan called. "There's no time to waste."
They raced to the edge of the building and leapt to the next rooftop. Then, running until their breath burned their lungs, they leapt from rooftop to rooftop, determined to outrun their captors.
"Where's Ambrosia?" Riordan clung to the edge of a steep roof and peered ahead through the gathering shadows. Night was falling quickly. It was both a blessing and a curse. It sheltered them from their pursuers, but it also hindered them from seeing obstacles in their path.
"Up ahead, Cap'n." Newton pointed to a skirt just disappearing around a chimney. "She's sticking close to her grandfather and the old women, in case they should grow weary."
"Keep up with them, Newt. I'd hate for them to walk into danger."
"Aye, Cap'n. What about you?"
"I'll be fine." As Newton raced ahead, Riordan shook his head in wonder. Half the town was chasing through the streets below, searching for them. Pirates as angry as hornets trailed behind them, brandishing swords. And this amazing family showed no fear as they continued on, showing no sign of the weariness that must be plaguing them.
For Riordan, the pain was almost overwhelming. With each step, his head swam and his eyes misted. His arm throbbed like the fire of hell. What kept him going was the knowledge that once they reached the pirate ship, they would be safe.
He felt responsible for them. All of them. And he wouldn't rest until he had them safely away from this hellhole.
He saw another rooftop looming before him and set his teeth against the pain as he made the leap. He landed, catching hold of the chimney with his good arm. For a moment he staggered and nearly fell. Then, as his vision cleared, he saw the others running ahead.
Soon, he told himself. Soon they'd be safe. And he could rest. It was the last coherent thought he had before his vision swam and the world went dark. And he felt himself falling through space.
"Hold on, Grandpapa." Ambrosia helped the old man scramble across yet-another rooftop. "We're almost there."
"I can take care of myself."
She smiled in the darkness. "I know you can. I'm so proud of you, Grandpapa."
"And I'm proud of you, lass. But save your words. We aren't there yet."
"Aye." She led him toward the edge of the roof and could see the docks looming straight ahead. "Look, Grandpapa. Only one more."
She waited until he'd made the leap, then she followed. When they'd crossed the roof, they paused at the edge to peer down. Newton and Bethany followed, with the two old women between them.
"Where's Darcy and Riordan?" Ambrosia looked around.
"Right behind us," Bethany said. "Now, how do we get down?"
"Stay here." Newton began circling the rooftop. "I'll see what I can find."
Minutes later he beckoned them to the far side, where a ladder rested against the wall.
They scrambled down and began running toward the docks. By the time they got to the edge of the wharf, Darcy had joined them.
Ambrosia glanced beyond her. "Where's Riordan?"
"I'm sure he'll be along. He was right behind me."
Newton pointed toward the ship in the distance. "We have no time to lose."
"Aye." Bethany peeled off her gown and Darcy did the same.
For a moment the two old women paused. Though they'd survived a battle, and had escaped by leaping over rooftops, shedding their proper gowns seemed the most daring by far. Finally, grateful for the cover of darkness,
Winnie and Mistress Coffey tossed aside their gowns and stepped out of their petticoats.
Bethany and Darcy jumped into the water, then waited until the two old ladies and their grandfather joined them. Newton turned to Ambrosia. "Are ye coming, lass?"
"Aye. But I'll just wait a moment for Riordan."
"Ye shouldn't wait, lass. He'll be along. He sent me ahead to see that ye were all kept safe."
"I'll be fine. We both will." She nodded. "Go now, Newt. We'll be right behind you."
The old sailor jumped in and started swimming. Ambrosia watched, then turned and peered through the darkness toward the lights of the town, torn between her desire to run and her need to find Riordan. In the end, her worry over Riordan won out. She couldn't leave him. Couldn't be safe unless she knew he was, too.
She turned and began to run, ducking behind buildings whenever she saw the light of a torch moving toward her. She was just racing past another darkened building when she saw something lying on the ground. As she moved closer she heard the moan, and realized it was Riordan.
"Oh, my darling." She knelt in the grass and touched a hand to his throat. There was a pulse. Feeble, thready, but at least he was still alive. "Can you stand?"
"Go." The word was torn from a throat so dry he could barely swallow. "Leave me. I ...order..."
"I'll go to the ship and get the others."
"Nay. I forbid..."
"Shh. I'll be right back, love." She got to her feet and started to run. And as she rounded a corner, slammed into a solid wall of chest. Strong hands gripped her shoulders. And a deep, raspy voice said, "Well, now. Isn't this cozy. You decided to come back and pleasure me and my men."
Ambrosia found herself looking into the cruel, mocking eyes of Eli Sledge.
Ambrosia tried desperately to pull free of the pirate's arms. But she was no match for his strength. "Where are the others hiding?" he demanded. "They're gone." She prayed he wouldn't spot Riordan lying in the grass just around the side of the building. And then another thought struck her. If Riordan were to moan, he'd give himself away. Determined to save him at all cost, she found an incredible strength within herself. She bolted and started to run in the opposite direction. Out of the darkness she heard the whistle of the whip as it snaked out and coiled around her neck. She was jolted backward with such force all the wind was knocked out of her lungs. What was worse, she couldn't breathe. Though she clawed desperately at the rope around her throat, she couldn't pry it loose. She could feel herself beginning to fade as spots danced in front of her eyes. And then, just when she thought she couldn't bear it another second
, the whip was suddenly loosened, and she dragged in a series of deep, shuddering breaths. Thin lines of blood trickled down the front of her gown.
"Let that be a lesson, woman. Don't you ever try to run away from Eli Sledge. Or my trusty little friend here will flog the life out of you." He gave her a kick with the toe of his boot. "You hear?"
"Aye." It was the only word she could manage through a throat left so raw it was nearly impossible to swallow.
"Come on, woman." He hauled her to her feet and started dragging her back toward the tavern.
As he passed a companion he called, "Tell the others I've found one of them. A female. And if she's the only one left, she's going to have to pay double the price for those who got away."
Ambrosia wouldn't let herself think about what fate awaited her at the tavern. For now, it was enough to know that she'd drawn his attention away from Riordan's hiding place. Now if only he could find the strength to make it to the ship, where the others awaited him.
Despite her pain and weariness, Ambrosia forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and continue walking. She couldn't let this pirate see her fear. If so, he would use it against her. Papa said that's what bullies always did.
When she stumbled, he yanked her roughly against him, allowing his hand to find her breast. She flinched, then cursed herself for it. He mustn't see any weakness. Stiffening her spine, she continued walking toward the lights of the tavern.
He led her around to a small room at the side of the tavern and gave her a shove, causing her to stumble inside. Holding a stick to the fireplace, he lit a torch and stuck it in a sconce along the wall. Then he left her standing while he sat down and lifted the lid of a tea cask. Inside she caught the gleam of gold as he grabbed a handful of coins.
He held them up. "See this, woman? This is my reward for ridding the world of the likes of you."
"I thought you did it for the sheer pleasure of inflicting pain."
He laughed. "That, too. I enjoy my work. But I enjoy it a lot more when there's gold involved. With this much gold, I can buy all the women and ale I want."
"Is that all it's good for?"
"It's all I crave out of life. That and a fast ship when my enemies are after me."
"I'm sure you have a lot of them."
“Aye." He threw back his head and roared. "And that suits me just fine. I have no use for people. I'd as soon kill them as look at them." He thrust the gold into his pocket. Then he lowered the lid and grabbed her arm, shoving her roughly ahead of him toward the larger room of the tavern.
Inside, the raucous voices and laughter faded when the pirates caught sight of Eli stepping through the doorway with his prisoner. "Look what I've found, mates." Sledge gave a rumble of laughter. "Her friends deserted her. But I'm sure we can find a way to cheer her up. What say you, mates?"
"I don't know how cheery she'll be when I'm through with her." A hulking pirate with stringy gray hair and yellow teeth stepped forward. "But I'll be feeling a whole lot better for it, Captain."
"Why should Seton get her first?" another pirate complained. "I want a chance with her."
"Let's draw lots," another called. "It's only fair, since we all want her."
"Aye. You can draw lots. But nobody gets her until I've had her first." The pirate captain stared around at the others, daring them to argue.
An uneasy silence fell over the room.
"That's better." Sledge's smile returned. "Drinks for everyone. And while we're slaking our thirst, we'll have the woman entertain us." He shoved her forward. "Dance for us, wench."
"Aye. Dance for us." The men laughed and clapped and pounded their tankards on the tables.
Dazed, Ambrosia stumbled a few feet, then righted herself. At first all she could see was a blur of leering faces. But as they came into sharper focus, she began to really look at them. Could she read any compassion in their eyes? Any pity? Was there even one among them who might come to her aid? As she stared about, she was faced with a terrible truth. These men had long ago discarded any vestige of humanity. They'd stopped caring about anyone but themselves.
The chorus of shouting and laughing increased as the ale flowed and the men emptied their tankards and demanded more. Some of them grabbed at Ambrosia as she moved past, pinching her flesh until she was bruised and humiliated. Others laughed and jeered. One kicked her, causing her to fall.
"I said dance, woman."
At Sledge's command, Ambrosia picked herself up and began to sway and weave among the tables. As she did, an old man reached over and lifted her skirt. She slapped his hand away and the crowd roared with laughter.
Her eyes narrowed as she realized that she had the full attention of every man in this room. If she could keep them watching, and drinking, perhaps she could seize an opportunity to escape. She would try it, no matter how painful or dangerous. For she already knew the fate that awaited her here. She would rather die than continue to
suffer this pain and humiliation. And this was only the beginning.
She lifted her skirt, revealing her ankles, and began to circle the room. The men went wild, some even standing on the tables for a better view.
As she dipped and twirled, Ambrosia noted the doors, and the men who stood guard at each. One of them held a knife in his hand, his gaze scanning the room. Another had his hand down the gown of a serving wench. That might bode well. Especially if he and the wench decided to seek their pleasure elsewhere. Ambrosia kept the man in her line of vision as she continued circling the room.
She was suddenly jolted out of her reverie when an old man stepped in front of her and hauled her into his arms, kissing her full on the mouth. Stunned, she could only stare at him as the men shouted their approval. Then, without a thought to what she was doing, Ambrosia took the tankard from his hand and poured the contents over his head.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eli Sledge uncoil his whip, and she steeled herself for what was to come. Instead, she looked around to find the entire crowd on their feet, laughing and clapping. "Good one, lass," one of the pirates shouted. "Give 'im 'ell, lass," another called. Ambrosia glanced back at Eli Sledge. Though his dark scowl remained, he was staring around, surprised by the action of the others. Slowly he began to coil his whip around his arm. She swallowed her fear and continued weaving her way through the crowded tables. For the moment, at least, she'd won a reprieve.
blurred. His arm was bleeding again. The blood had already soaked through his dressings and stained his shirt and breeches. He mopped at his face, and left it bloodstained as well. But he wasn't finished yet, he reminded himself. He had two good legs, and one hand that still worked. A hand that now held the knife he'd carried in his boot.
What kept him going, what gave him his supernatural strength, was the voice he'd heard in the darkness. The voice of the man whose vision had tormented him since that terrible night when John and James Lambert had given their lives. Eli Sledge couldn't be allowed to harm another Lambert.
Ambrosia. Riordan felt the blood pounding in his temples as he drew near the tavern. His own life meant nothing to him. For if the woman he loved should die at the hands of that hated pirate, he couldn't bear to go on living.
He crept toward the small window and peered inside. What he saw had his blood running cold.
The young pirate was drunk and wild-eyed. He'd lost an ear and half of a once-handsome face to a seaman's sword. Now he stood, barring Ambrosia's path, holding a dueling pistol to her head.
"Let 'er go, Griff," a man shouted.
"Nay. Look at her. She's too pretty." The hand holding the pistol trembled violently. "Nobody deserves to be this pretty. Especially not when my Becky lies in the cold ground."
"She didn't kill yer Becky," another shouted.
"But it was one like her. A pretty one." He pressed the pistol against her cheek, and Ambrosia could smell the gunpowder. Fear rose in her throat, threatening to choke her.
"Put away the pistol, Griff." Eli Sledge's voice w
as deadly soft.
"Let me kill her, Captain."
"And spoil my fun?" The voice grew firmer. "Take out the gunpowder, Griff. At once. Or I'll have to kill you."
Ambrosia could feel the way the sailor trembled as he fought the urge to pull the trigger. But in the end, his fear of the pirate captain was greater than the madness that had caused him to aim his pistol at her.
The young sailor turned the pistol over, spilling gunpowder all over Ambrosia's hair and neck and shoulders. While the men laughed, she shook it into her pockets and stood perfectly still, fighting the panic that had rendered her speechless.
She'd never before been that close to madness. She had been trying desperately to prepare herself for a violent death.
Now, pushed and poked by the men around her, she as forced to keep moving. While all around him his men grew louder and more raucous, Eli Sledge sat alone at a table, watching and brooding. Each time his tankard was empty, a serving wench filled it quickly, for his temper was legendary. No one wanted to risk the sting of that whip. "Bring the woman," he shouted. The laughter died. A half dozen pirates caught hold of Ambrosia and hauled her across the room.
"Dance for me, woman." He pointed with his whip. "On my table."
Strong arms lifted her onto his table, where she stood, hands on hips, staring at him.
It occurred to Ambrosia that she'd just lost her best chance to run. She'd almost made it to the door. And now this. The men formed a circle around the table and began clapping and shouting.
When she didn't move, Eli began uncoiling his whip. "Maybe you need prodding."
She shot him a hateful look and began to move slowly around the table.
"Faster. Show me your legs." He drained his tankard. "Such long, lovely legs."
A serving wench hurried over with a pitcher of ale while Ambrosia lifted her skirts and began to spin around and around. At that the men began keeping time with their hands, clapping in rhythm.
"Lift the skirt higher," Sledge commanded.
Ambrosia gritted her teeth and hiked her skirts up, all the while watching his face. He was still scowling. But there was an intensity that hadn't been there before. A darkness in his eyes. A tightening of his jaw. It was the most lustful look she'd ever seen, and it frightened her more than the young sailor's madness.