She swallowed the knot of fear that was threatening to choke her. She had to be strong. To be alert to everything that was going on around the room. To be ready to run. And if that possibility was denied her, she had to be ready to defend herself, or die trying. She would plunge her dagger into her own heart before she'd let this monster have his way with her.
"Come here, woman." He held up a hand.
At once the clapping stopped. The men who only moments ago had been laughing and calling out good-naturedly grew silent. An expectant hush fell over the room.
From her position atop the table, Ambrosia was able to see over the heads of the men who ringed the room. When she spotted the bloody face at the window, she nearly cried out. Then, biting back her words, she realized that it was Riordan. Her own beloved Riordan.
The slightest change in her looks or demeanor would give him away.
"Woman. I said come here."
Ambrosia knew that she needed to keep everyone's attention riveted on her, if Riordan were to survive. Striking a seductive pose, her hands on her hips, she sauntered across the table toward Eli Sledge.
Halfway across, she paused. Forcing a smile to her lips, she taunted, "If you want me, you have to come and get me."
"Why you..." He was on his feet and uncoiling his whip.
The men, their blood heated by the ale and the thought of the woman they would soon be allowed to ravish, began cheering him on. "Teach 'er a lesson, Captain."
"Take her. And then it'll be our turn."
"Aye, Captain. Hurry. Take 'er now." Sledge shoved back his chair, sending it crashing against the wall, then leapt onto the table, facing Ambrosia. On his lips was a smile of pure evil. "Now, woman, I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't soon forget."
Ambrosia saw Riordan drag himself through the narrow window. The sight of all that blood had her heart turning over in her chest. The pain must be unbearable. But he'd come back for her. And she mustn't fail him now.
She could see that he needed time to get to his feet and take aim with his knife. And that meant that she needed to keep the pirates' attention focused on her.
"You keep calling me woman. Wouldn't you like to know my name?"
Eli's eyes narrowed. "Why should that matter to me?"
"Because you know my family. My father." She absorbed the first sudden burst of pain and forced herself to speak, even though her heart was breaking. "My brother."
"I know them?"
"Aye. My name is Ambrosia Lambert. You killed my father, John, and my brother, James."
"Lambert." Eli Sledge raised his arm and snapped back the whip. "Oh, this is perfect. I enjoyed killing Captain John Lambert and his son. Loyal to the bloody king, they were. But I'm going to especially enjoy what I do to you. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be begging me—"
His words ended abruptly. His eyes went wide. His body stiffened, before slumping over and toppling to the floor.
It took several seconds before the shocked onlookers realized that he had a knife protruding from his back.
In the confusion, Ambrosia leapt from table to table, over the heads of the crowd that had gathered around their captain. When she reached Riordan's side, he was leaning weakly against the wall. It had taken all of his strength and concentration to aim the knife and toss it with such accuracy.
"Come, love." Though he was barely hanging on, he caught her hand and yanked her through a doorway.
"Nay." She stopped and turned back.
"What are you doing? Don't you understand that at any moment that angry mob will be coming for us?"
"Aye. But I'm not finished with them yet."
She picked up a torch from along the wall and held it to a wooden table. She was rewarded by a thin flame dancing along the tabletop, flaring into bursts of fire whenever it encountered spilled spirits. In no time the fire was spreading from table to table, and picking up speed as it did.
She reached into the pocket of her gown and tossed a handful of gunpowder, adding to the display.
"Fire!" someone shouted.
As the shouts went up, the tavern became a place of pandemonium.
"Now we must run," Riordan called, catching her hand.
But once again Ambrosia defied him. "Nay. There's one more thing we must do, love."
Outside the tavern he leaned weakly against the trunk of a tree, wondering how much longer he could remain conscious. "And what is that, Ambrosia?"
"The gold." Before he could stop her, she dashed though a doorway, returning a few minutes later dragging the heavy cask. "How do you intend to get that to the ship?"
"I'll find a way." She disappeared into the darkness, turning minutes later leading a horse and cart. It took both of them, struggling beneath the weight of it, to load the cask aboard the cart. As soon as it was secure, she helped Riordan into the back, then climbed up and flicked the reins. The horse started off at a slow trot.
The streets of Cairn were filled with people rushing to put out the fire in the tavern before it spread to other buildings. No one noticed a horse and cart heading toward the harbor.
Once there, Ambrosia ran off in search of a skiff. Spying one on the beach, she raced toward it, only to see that a man was seated inside.
Before she could duck out of sight the man spotted her. She saw him stand up. In his hand was something shiny. She braced herself for what was to come.
Instead she was surprised to hear a familiar voice call, "Ambrosia. Is that ye, lass?"
"Newton." She let out a long, slow breath. "Oh, Newton, praise heaven."
She caught his hand and led him to where Riordan lay in the back of the cart, his breathing shallow, his body bathed in sweat.
"We must get him into the skiff at once, Newt."
"Aye, lass." The old sailor eased Riordan from the cart, then helped him across the beach until he was lying in the skiff.
When he turned he saw Ambrosia dragging the cask across the sand.
"What's this, lass?"
"The gold, Newt. Now we must hurry. They'll be on us in no time."
Nerves had them fumbling as they struggled to load the cask aboard the skiff. As the old man picked up the oars and began rowing, they could hear the sound of voices coming closer. The voices of an angry mob.
"How long have you been there, Newt?" Riordan asked.
"All night, Cap'n. I knew I'd have to leave ye if ye and the lass weren't here by dawn. But until then, I was determined to wait and watch." And pray, he thought. In the long, lonely hours of the night, he'd prayed as he'd never prayed before.
He was grateful that he'd never have to find out whether or not he'd have had the courage to leave without them.
By the time they reached the Skull, the others were there to help them aboard. And as boats were being launched from the harbor by angry pirates, Ambrosia and her sisters hoisted the Skull's sails and watched from the rigging as flames seemed to engulf the entire town of Cairn.
Ambrosia stood by the rail of the Skull, watching the feverish activity on shore. It was obvious that the pirates were torn between their need to battle the fires that engulfed the town and their need to go after the thieves who had stolen their ship. Some had already launched smaller boats and were trailing the wake of the Skull. They could be spotted easily by the long line of torches that marked their progress in the predawn mist.
Geoffrey Lambert turned to Riordan. "Setting fire to the town was an inspired move, lad."
Riordan managed a smile, despite his pain. "It wasn't my doing, Geoffrey. It was your granddaughter's decision."
"I should have known." The old man drew an arm around Ambrosia and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I've never known you to do things by half measure, Ambrosia. Now tell us where you've been and how you came by the pirates' gold."
"I will, Grandpapa." She turned to Riordan, who was clinging to the rail with a death grip, as though afraid he might fall if he let go for even a moment. "But first, we must see to these wounds."
/> "And what about yours?" Her grandfather touched a finger to the angry red welts around her throat and saw her wince.
"Aye. I'll see to these as well."
Geoffrey turned to Newton. "We'll take them below to the captain's cabin."
"But that's yours, Grandpapa."
"Hush, lass." He gave her a tender smile. "I'd much prefer to sleep in a hammock, the way I did when I was a lad. I'm feeling that way now. Like a young lad, out on my first adventure at sea." He breathed deeply. "Now that we're safely aboard ship, I'm finding this ...invigorating."
He put a hand beneath Riordan's elbow and assisted him belowdecks. Then he opened the cabin door and stepped aside. "See to your wounds, and then you and the lass must get some sleep."
Before they could offer a protest, he was gone. Humming a sailor's tune he'd learned as a lad.
Riordan crossed to the bunk and sat, drawing Ambrosia down beside him.
She touched a hand to his fevered brow. "You need an opiate for the pain, Riordan."
He shook his head. "You're all the opiate I need, love. To think that you risked everything to come back for me." He shook his head in wonder. "And then, when I thought I'd lost you to that monster..." He stopped for a moment and waited for his heartbeat to settle. "It was the hardest thing I've ever endured, to watch you in that den of cutthroats, alone. It tore at my heart to see what you had to go through. I knew then that I'd find a way to save you, or die trying." He framed her face with his hands and stared deeply into her eyes. "Do you know how truly amazing you are? Ambrosia, my love, you simply take my breath away. I've never known a woman like you. I feel so..." He couldn't find the words. And so he drew her gently into his arms and told her, with the softest of kisses, all that was in his heart.
She started to pull back. "Riordan, your wounds—"
"Shh. This is more important." He lay down and gathered her against him. And without another word, they fell into an exhausted sleep.
It was late afternoon when Ambrosia and Riordan made their way topside. They had bathed away the blood and grime, and had changed into fresh clothes.
"Well now." Geoffrey looked up from the wheel. "You two are looking almost human again."
"And feeling the same way," Riordan said with a smile. He glanced around. "How many ships are trailing us?"
"Three or four that we've counted," Mistress Coffey said.
"But they're much smaller than this pirate vessel, and not nearly as well fortified," Winifred Mellon put in. "Did you know there are four cannons aboard, as well as an arsenal of swords and dueling pistols?"
"Aye." Riordan couldn't help smiling at the note of enthusiasm in both women's voices. As though they were thoroughly enjoying themselves. "As you'll recall, Miss Mellon, the poor Sea Challenge felt the full force of those cannons."
Geoffrey Lambert gave a relaxed smile. "I doubt those boats following us can overtake us. Especially now that we've got a fresh wind behind us. We should make London by nightfall."
"Will the king be terribly disappointed in us for losing most of the gold to those pirates?" Darcy asked.
Riordan smiled at the lass. She and her sisters had been through so much. But like their grandfather, they seemed to be thriving on the danger. As were their two elderly companions. "King Charles will be angry, but not at us. We did our best against the invaders. And, thanks to your sister, we still have one cask of gold."
"However did you manage that, Ambrosia?" Bethany asked.
"I don't know." She shook her head, sending dark curls tumbling around her face in a most appealing way. "I was so angry. I didn't think it was at all proper that those cutthroats should be rewarded for their cruelty. I think it was my anger that gave me the strength to do those things. Setting the fire. Retrieving the gold. Stealing a horse and cart."
"You did all that?" Bethany asked with sudden attention. "I wish I'd have been there."
"Aye." Darcy clapped her hands. "You must tell us everything, Ambrosia."
Her grandfather nodded. "I quite agree. You've a tale to tell, and we want to hear every detail of it."
"I will. I promise." She kissed his cheek. "Perhaps this evening. When we take our meal on deck. For now, I intend to climb the rigging and check on the boats that follow us."
With her sisters right behind her, Ambrosia made her way to the very top of the rigging, where she studied the horizon.
Below, Geoffrey Lambert studied the young man beside him, seeing a look on his face that left no doubt of his true feelings.
"You have an amazing granddaughter, Geoffrey."
"Aye, lad."
"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her."
"According to Ambrosia, you saved her life as well." He offered his hand. "And for that, I am forever in your debt."
The two men shook hands solemnly. Then Riordan crossed the deck and relieved Newton at the wheel. As he faced into the breeze, and felt the deck of the ship beneath his feet, he found himself thinking of what he'd nearly lost. And of all he'd gained.
He glanced skyward and watched Ambrosia and her sisters laughing as they worked among the rigging. Then he turned to where two old men leaned on the rail and talked of younger days and seagoing adventures. Seated nearby were two elderly women, heads bent close, reliving every moment of their hair-raising escape with a sense of pride and accomplishment.
This day was truly a gift. A gift to be savored. And this night, if all went well, they would be in London.
"Oh." Ambrosia pricked her finger with a needle, and frowned as a tiny drop of blood stained the cloth on which she and her sisters were frantically sewing. Then she jumped up. "You know I'm no good at needlework, Winnie. I always hated it."
"Aye, my girl. That you did. But when it came to climbing and jumping, you were a most apt pupil."
Bethany tossed aside the cloth she'd been working on and stomped her foot in frustration. "Why are we bothering with this? Nobody will recognize it anyway."
"Why are we bothering? Because this is a pirate ship." Winifred Mellon reverted to her stern nursemaid's tone that she'd used with such effect throughout her lifetime. "Do you want someone in London to shoot at us?"
Riordan strolled on deck and paused to peer over her shoulder. "What's this?"
"The English flag." Ambrosia caught the doubtful look on his face. "At least that's what we were trying to sew. But none of us has any skill in needlework except Winnie."
"Did you hope to fly that?" He shot her an incredulous look.
"Aye. It's only right." The old woman began correcting the mistakes of her pupils. Before she was finished, it would, by heaven, resemble a proper English flag. "We're approaching London with cargo bound for the king. If we don't fly our colors, we'll not be welcome. In fact, we could be the object of cannon fire. After all, this is a pirate ship."
Riordan swallowed back his smile and left them to their work. It wouldn't do to tell them that he carried a flag from King Charles himself. A flag that would open any door in London.
As daylight drifted into evening, and the Skull floated up the Thames, they could see the lights of the city looming ahead. The sight of it stirred their hearts. For though they loved their home in Cornwall more than anywhere on earth, this was a special place. The king of England was in residence here. And all loyal subjects felt the honor of his presence.
Ambrosia turned from the rail. "How will you know where to go when we dock, Riordan? The king has so many palaces."
"Aye. But his favorites are
Hampton Court
and St.JamesPalace. I know that he ofttimes keeps his mistresses at Whitehall, but that palace has such sad memories for him, since it was there that his father, Charles I, stepped to the scaffold to be hanged."
Ambrosia thought of the death of her own father, and felt a kinship with the king. He'd been a mere lad when he was forced to watch his father's hanging. What would that do to the child, and to the man he'd become?
A short time later, as the Skull moved up the Tha
mes, Riordan pointed. "Seeing no banners here, I'm inclined to believe the king is in residence at
Hampton Court
."
Ambrosia gazed into the distance. "And you'll have to go there and explain how we lost the cargo bound for him."
"Aye." He closed his hand over hers at the rail as the sails were lowered and Newton smoothly guided the ship to its mooring.
"Must you go to him right away?"
"As quickly as possible. But first, I'll take you to my town house in London."
"You have a home here?" It occurred to her that Riordan had never spoken of his possessions. Except for Edwina's gossip, which he had admitted was true, she knew nothing of his past. He was a man of complete mystery. But there was no time for further questions as they engaged in the activities of disembarking.
Riordan led the way from the boat and hired a carriage. While they were being seated, he handed several scrolled missives to a messenger and handed him some money. Then he pulled himself up to sit beside Ambrosia. As they rolled through the streets, they found themselves staring at a vast array of fascinating people. Elegant carriages bearing beautifully dressed ladies and their equally well-dressed gentlemen. Vendors haggling with ladies' maids and housekeepers. Beggars on street corners calling for alms from those who hurried by. There were shopgirls in long dark skirts and shirtwaists, and dandies in satin breeches and brightly plumed hats. And dark-skinned men who wore ornate headdresses, and their exotic women in slender, body-skimming gowns. There were visitors from India, Spain and even the Orient.
"I haven't been in London since I was a girl," Miss Mellon said wistfully. "I'd forgotten how fascinating it is."
"Aye." Mistress Coffey breathed in the fragrances of tea and spices brought by ships from far-off lands. "And how exotic it can be."
"And how dirty." Geoffrey wrinkled his nose at the mass of humanity and animals crowded together in the streets, all fighting for the right to move.
Ambrosia felt the press of Riordan's shoulder to hers. There had been so little time to be alone. "Will you wait until morning to go to the king? Or will you see him tonight?"