The Pirate Lord: Aristocrat. Rogue. Spy. Page 12

  Reason enough to be grateful to God for the interruption that prevented her from spilling her secret. If she wanted Jon Stag to live, he could not find out who she really was. The burden was on her to lie—and lie convincingly.

  The only hope to minimize the loss of life lay in Treacher believing she was the governor’s daughter. His cargo of gold would be pirated and he would be furious, but the men of the Black would be safe.

  Where did that leave Bronwyn Barlow and her little brother, Roddy? Where did that leave any of them? She would be committed to sailing to America with no hope of return.

  And Jon Stag would go free.

  §

  JON SLAPPED his thigh and with a sudden move of decision, opened the cabin door to break the news to Hawkins and his second mate, Mr. Frame. They stood behind the map table, charting their approach and the quickest possible escape route.

  “There has been a change of plan, gentlemen. Lady Gage will not be given in exchange as a hostage. I mean to take her with me to America if she’ll have me.”

  “America!” Hawkins’s mouth gaped open.

  “You heard me.” Jon twisted and paced, feeling half out of his wits. Seeing her just now had blown his plans to pieces. His head was all over the place. “We’ll send word to Treacher that she is aboard the Black. When he is close enough, Hawkins will board the Dauntless, secure the captain and take the gold. Lady Gage will stay with us. We’ll divide the gold among the crew and set course for America. The men can find work on the privateers from Bermuda if they desire. Good, fast ships, I hear there are fortunes to be made in those waters. As for me, I have to give up the life or give up the lady. I’ve made my choice.”

  “Why this one!” Bill cried out explosively. “Why this one and not any of the others you’ve bedded? She has bewitched you from the first and you are too stubborn to admit it! Will you abandon the Black Adder, her crew and everything we’ve fought to build for a bit of pussy? Make her your mistress—I’ve no objection. Set her up in a nice house in Cornwall and visit her whenever you like—but do not throw over the life you have now, Jon Stag!”

  “This life will end in death at sea or at the end of a rope and you and I both know it. It was a risk I was willing to take once. Not anymore.”

  Jon examined the charts, thinking through the new plan. “The attack will be conducted without bloodshed if at all possible. If any man gives you trouble, set him down instantly. Send a message: no man will be harmed if they cooperate. The gold will allow each man who served the Black to retire in style, including you, Billy. We’ve had a good run. I will not press our luck.”

  “It won’t work!” Billy protested. “D’ye reckon Treacher is just going to stand aside and let us carry off his gold? He’ll want to see the girl safely aboard the Dauntless first.”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree, Jon,” said Frame. “We’ll lose our bargaining power without the lady. We have to use our cannons or Lady Gage to board that ship. There’s no other way.”

  Jon slammed his fist on the table. “Then find another way for she will not be left behind! I cannot be without her,” he said tightly. “Any life that does not include her is not a life I care to live. I’m in love with her.”

  “Love!” Bill fairly exploded. His grizzled old face purpled. “How can you talk of love after knowing her for less than a fortnight? It isn’t love you’ve been up to with the wench for the past three nights. Sneaking into your quarters, oh, aye, so this is the bargain you spoke of! She has you right where she wants you, my lad.” Bill snorted his contempt. “She forgot to wear her gloves, did ye say? She has no blasted gloves! No, nor any of the frippery women travel with. That girl is no more Lady Gage than I am!”

  Jon turned on his first mate. “What in hell are you talking about? Tell me and tell me quick before I throw you over the side.”

  “Her name is Bronwyn Barlow. I saw it written in a Bible she has hidden in her case and what’s more that dress she had on was from Potts Boarding House! Second floor drawing room curtains they was—before they got turned into a gown for Lady Bronwyn Gage.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  JON HELD his position, not quite believing the accusation Hawkins had made, but not able to refute it either. Bronwyn Barlow.

  Do you like me better because I am a member of your class? Would you like me as much, for instance, if I told you I was a housemaid?

  “Who is she?” Jon kept his tone low and even. His declaration of love had already made him look like a jackass. There was no point in dancing around the subject. Frame and Hawkins were watching his reaction closely.

  Bill sneered and spat on the floor. “She’s a con artist—a wharf rat stowaway that we’ve been hoodwinked into thinking she was a fine lady. What I want to know is why did she do it?”

  “At a guess?” offered Mr. Frame. “I’d say she did it for the gold. She hopes to blackmail us to cut her in. Either that or she’s a spy as Mr. Hawkins believes. Why else does she want aboard the Dauntless?”

  “She doesn’t—she never did,” said Jon, realizing. “It was the boy she was after. Roddy Barlow. He is her brother. When we snatched him off the street, she tried to get him back. That’s all there is to it, I’d stake my life on it.”

  “You may wind up doing just that. The lady is in possession of a firearm and she knows how to shoot.”

  He eyed both men. “Say nothing. Leave her to me. Bronwyn is too clever to be caught.” Unlike himself, Jon thought bitterly. She knew his real identity. “Handling her will not be easy. We need her help to convince Treacher she is Lady Gage.”

  “Does she return your feelings, Captain? Can we trust her?”

  Hawkins jumped in. “Not on your life! She’s been walking the deck, learning everything about us for five days. She’ll spill her guts to Treacher as soon as she gets the chance. She lied to you, Jon—lied right to your face! And why is that, I wonder, if she’s so damned fond of you? Miss High-and-Mighty is looking out for her own interests and so must we.”

  Bill Hawkins gave Frame a sneaking, shifty glance. “I say we hand her over to Treacher for a spy. It’s our only chance to get the gold. She isn’t Lady Gage and she’s no damned use to us as Bronwyn Barlow. Like as not, Treacher is acquainted with Gage’s daughter and won’t be taken in as we were. Pass her off as a notorious spy and that’ll serve as a distraction.”

  Jon tamped down his rising anger. His first mate was sailing dangerously close to insubordination. He itched to check the old man’s tongue with a confession of his own. Bronwyn was not the spy—he was.

  Billy Hawkins thought he was after the Dauntless for the gold alone. The gold was only half the story. Since learning of his father’s removal to the American colonies, Jon had taken an interest in the revolutionary war being waged there. Principally, to learn how Lord Stagholt may profit from the outcome. As it turned out, his father had a vested interest in British rule dominating the New World and there was only one way to ensure that did not happen—Jon would help the Colonials win.

  After hearing of Nate’s death, he had lost any feeling he might have had for his father. Nate could have persuaded him to forgive. There was no chance of that now.

  Jon Stag was the traitor the British Army sought and Bronwyn Barlow would be made to pay the price of wandering into his plot.

  A curate’s daughter. How ironic.

  He rubbed his hands over his face as if that would rub away the nagging feelings of loss. He was well-rid of her, he told himself. She had lied to his face. Jon could forgive her deceiving him to save her brother; he could not forgive the deliberate lie later, when he had begun to believe that she was the one. He believed that she thought so too.

  Bronwyn proved to be no more trustworthy—or loving—than his father.

  Jon stood at the window. The blue sea glittered beyond the wake. The weather had held. Even the squalls had been mild. The berth where he had taken her and tasted her would be empty from this day forward if she boarded the Dauntless. She’d be t
aken to Boston and hung for a spy, or tossed into prison, or otherwise used as a scapegoat for Treacher’s stupidity.

  But she could not be kept aboard the Black either. Even under his protection, Bill Hawkins was hell-bent on stirring up trouble. It did not take much to create unrest on board this ship. Pirates resorted to rough justice over reason. Bronwyn would not be safe.

  His mind worked. Seizing the payroll gold was vital to the outcome of the war, but the Black was out-gunned and out-manned. Using Bronwyn as a hostage would work but it meant Jon would never see her again.

  Two competing desires battled for supremacy in his chest: Bronwyn or the mission.

  And then the answer appeared in his mind’s eye as though it had been waiting there all along for him to see it. He had resisted this moment for days and now it was upon him.

  Jon turned abruptly and looked from one man to the other. “I’ll take her place. Once the gold is on board the Black, I’ll surrender to Captain Treacher. It’s the only way.”

  Even as he spoke the words, Jon knew this was his destiny from the moment Bronwyn stepped out of the fog looking for her servant.

  “No!” Mr. Frame voiced his objection loudly. “They’ll hang you as soon as you reach America. They’ve been chasing after you for years, Jon. Treacher will be hailed a hero if he sails into Boston with you as his prisoner.”

  “So, you agree it will work then. He’ll hand over the gold in exchange for me.” He waited for the navigational officer’s response.

  “Aye, it’ll work. It’ll save Treacher from court martial, that’s certain. Captain Jon Stag is a valuable prize, but what about the Black and your share of the gold?”

  “Dead men don’t need gold, Mr. Frame. Divide my share among the men. You and Hawkins will assume command of the Black and I’ll sail to America with Miss Barlow and the boy on board the Dauntless.”

  The gold would not reach the colonies; his mission would be complete and he would not be separated from Bronwyn. It was risky but it was the only way. Jon wasn’t a martyr. He would find a way to beat the noose. He had enough wealth squirreled away to bribe his way to a pardon.

  Bill Hawkins was oddly silent. Jon lifted a brow in his direction. “Mr. Hawkins, do I have your word that you will not say anything to Miss Barlow? I want to speak to her first before we approach the Dauntless.”

  “Aye, you go speak to her and she’ll talk you around to doing her pleasure as always. And what then, Captain Stag?” Hawkins leaned across the table. The lamplight shadowed his grizzled features. “Ye’ll give up the Black Adder and all her crew for that sea witch! I’ll not stand by and watch it happen. She has cast a spell over you, Jonny. You are not the man you once were, and you’re not our Captain either.” Hawkins’ temper exploded. “Jon Stag would never give up the Black—no, not for anything! Now tell me you are not bewitched!”

  “Mr. Hawkins, you will obey my command or I will have you clapped in irons,” Jon said. His jaw clenched from the effort of keeping his temper. “Is that understood? I am speaking as your Captain and Mr. Frame is my witness. This is a direct order—you will keep silent about everything you have heard today. There’ll be no resistance. Is that understood, sir?”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Jon caught a whiff of mutiny in the old sailor’s tone and to his lasting regret, Jon failed to take heed.

  §

  “WHO ARE YOU?”

  She turned to find Jon Stag standing behind her at a distance. His gray eyes pierced the space between them, hard like flint, the color of steel. His beauty had set in an unforgiving mask.

  He knew.

  Jon had been gone for less than an hour and in that time—she did not know how—he had discovered her secret. Bronwyn’s mouth dried and her heart pounded. “I can explain—”

  “Tell me who you are.”

  She lifted her chin and met his stare. “My name is Bronwyn Barlow. I am the daughter of Matthew Barlow. He was the curate of a small parish in Somerset until his death two years ago.”

  “And the servant boy you were so determined to keep that you would fuck a man you hardly knew is your brother. I know all about it. You had me quite convinced, Miss Barlow. I believed there was something special about you to have such concern for the boy. You could have told me,” he said in a low bitter voice.

  “Could I?” Bronwyn snapped. The angry pain in his eyes tormented her and made her defensive. “I’ve been protecting him for two years. I’ve known you for five days. Do you imagine I will put his life at risk for any reason?”

  “Do not insult everything we had by pretending I would harm you or your brother!” Jon’s voice had dipped to a snarl that made her hair stand on end. He closed the gap between them. “You know who I am. I told you the truth about myself—”

  “Yes! Yes, you trusted me, Lord Stagholt—but only because you thought I was Lady Gage! If you knew the girl you were bedding was only a poor curate’s daughter, I wager you would not have been so quick to treat me as an equal. You would’ve taken your pleasure and thought of me no more.” She dashed angry tears from her eyes. “I have witnessed this too often in my father’s parish to think otherwise.”

  “Answer me this, Bronwyn. After you were safely aboard the Dauntless, how long would you have given me before you traded my secret for your release?”

  Jon’s voice was cold. His jaw was tight.

  Bronwyn tossed her head. She stepped in closer until she nearly reached his chin. “If Roddy was in danger I would have bartered you to spare him. Do not worry, Lord Stagholt. I have every confidence you would have survived the blow. Your sort always does.”

  A cry from the crow’s nest shattered the tension between them. Bronwyn craned her neck to see. The Dauntless appeared, as if out of nowhere, gliding on the calm waters just ahead of them. The wind picked up and Bronwyn could feel the quickening in Jon Stag as he closed in on his quarry. The mainsail filled with wind and billowed, driving them forward even faster.

  Mr. Frame hurried forward, adjusting his tricorner hat on his head. “What are your orders, Captain?”

  “We do not want to spook her or show our hand in any way. Draw as near as possible without coming in range of her guns. I’ll send an emissary with a message for Captain Treacher. When he gives the signal we shall draw close to transfer Lady Gage to the vessel using the gangplank. Remember your roles, gentlemen. This is merely a passenger exchange.”

  The remark was revealing. Her theory that Stag would somehow use this opportunity to rob the Dauntless was correct. The question was, would Treacher fall for the ruse or would he kill them all? Jon knew she was not Lady Gage. Why was he pursuing this? He knew the peril she was in if she was discovered.

  And suddenly Bronwyn understood this was Stag’s intention was from the beginning.

  How could she have not seen it?

  “Poor Lady Gage,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “She was nothing more than a pawn. I underestimated your heartlessness, Jon Stag. My value to you wasn’t as a friend or a lover to whom you could confess your secrets—oh no—I was a hostage. You were going to offer the safe return of General Gage’s daughter in exchange for the gold. The trouble is—I am not General Gage’s daughter.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What does the dread pirate intend to do now that he has lost his leverage?”

  The steel in his eyes softened just a fraction. “If you had told me the truth last night, I would’ve had time to come up with something. For now, you’ll just have to trust me and go along with the deception for as long as possible.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “TRUST YOU,” she repeated. She could not keep the cynicism out of her voice. “Can a curate’s daughter trust a pirate?”

  To her great astonishment, Jon reached out and pressed his warm palm to her cheek. “Can a pirate trust a curate’s daughter?” His tone and expression were riddled with doubt. “You deceived me, Bronwyn. I only wonder how far. How much of what I felt with you was real and how much of it was pl
ayacting to save your brother?”

  Bronwyn’s anger melted. She turned her face slightly and pressed her lips to his palm. “It was all real ... all of it … every moment of it....”

  The second mate approached, clearing his throat loudly. “Captain Stag, we are about to lower the launch. We’re only waiting for your message, sir.”

  Jon dropped his hand. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Very good, sir.” Frame nodded but he looked uneasy. “Lady Gage, your gown is in your cabin if you would like to dress before boarding the Dauntless.”

  Clearly, the officer wanted Bronwyn to leave the captain to his duties. “Thank you, Mr. Frame. I would.”

  Jon gave a short bow and the two men hurried away, leaving her alone. Bronwyn turned her gaze to the white sails soaring ahead. The air was cool and the sea was deceptively beautiful, shimmering like a sapphire jewel under a cloudless blue sky.

  A beauty that could kill, she thought as she slipped away to her cabin. If the Black was fired on, men would drown in that jewel blue water. And young boys.

  The gown was laid out on the berth but she did not put it on. It would only hamper her movement. Bronwyn dropped to her knees and pulled out the leather valise from under the berth. The flintlock pistol, black powder and muzzle loader were where she had stored them after Roddy’s shooting lesson.

  Loading the weapon took a few minutes; her hands were shaking. She would only have one shot but one was all she needed. On a clear day, she could kill a man at fifty yards.

  §

  THE GREAT ships glided together with astonishing ease, given their size and bulk. She shielded her eyes against the azure sky to watch the seamen climb the mast poles with agility and speed to secure the sails. Captain Treacher had accepted Captain Stag’s request to board, taking his word for it that he had Lady Gage on board the Black.