Chapter 20

"Well, hell!" Adrian muttered.

Miss Hawthorn drew a sharp breath and darted a glance at the row of islands as if she gauged whether she could swim the distance from the reef to the island.

"How bad?" he asked.

The ocean churned around them, filling the air with an energic swoosh.

"A couple of days with all the pumps at full capacity if we get her patched up," Scott said. "We might be able to do it on the go, but it won't last long. The rift is almost three yards long and a couple of inches wide, right at the turn of the bilge."

"All right. Keep pushing the pumps," Adrian ordered and pulled on his shirt. "We'll need to go ashore."

Directing his gaze toward Miss Hawthorn, he absorbed her sweet features, pert nose, sincere eyes, and lush lips. A small tremor fluttered inside him.

This morning, she had been stirred by his closeness, like a blossoming flower unfurling in sunlight. He had sensed the response in her body, felt her heartbeat, and heard the faint quivers in her breath.

And those lips… Those lips had affected him a hell of a lot more than he could have imagined. The way they had welcomed him, the way her body had molded to his, the way she had moaned softly into his mouth, the passion he had seen in her eyes…

He needed to get his mind on his plan and his ship, but Miss Hawthorn didn't offer him that privilege. Yet, he couldn't summon any regrets.

Wonder what her name is.

Elizabeth? Anne? Or maybe she had a more modern name, like Kitty?

"The leak is not a threat. The bilge pumps are efficient. We'll manage the situation," Adrian said to alleviate her concern, fastening his sash around his waist.

She nodded. "All right. Is there anything I can do to help?"

He had captured her from the Chirton , torn her from a safe and protected world, and robbed her of the life she had expected, the life she merited and desired; he had vowed not to touch her and violated his vow, and yet she stood there offering her help.

He shook his head. "I don't have the right to ask for your help."

"Maybe not, but–"

"Ahoy deck!" The cry from the main masthead drew every eye upward. "Sails approaching from south!"

Prickles surged through his body, jolting his senses into heightened alertness. The crew activities slowed, awaiting his next steps.

"Identity?" Adrian yelled.

"Uncertain. The fog still shrouds her."

Thomas sat his spyglass to his eye and sought out the ship. "She's coming from behind the island. Three masts–"

Hell. The Prince George had three masts.

"Give me that!" Adrian snatched the spyglass from Thomas and pointed it south. The wind tore at his shirt, making it billow behind him. "Fuckin' hell. It's the Prince George . And she's reaming out her guns."

"Damnation!" Thomas swore. "Her captain is firmly resolved to take us. We have no option but to fight, regardless of our disadvantages."

Adrian didn't need a second to consider what to do. He turned on his heels. "Beat to quarters!" he yelled as if to confirm Thomas's bleak prediction.

The ship's bell rang out with a sharp and urgent clang, almost drowning out the thunder from the waves crashing against the reef. The Ranger's crew sprang into action, rushing to their designated stations.

Adrian turned to Miss Hawthorn. Her eyes had lost the usual brightness. Instead, a shadow of trepidation tinged her gaze.

Why was she so scared? The Prince George would be her rescue.

"Go belowdecks. Stay with Elias–"

"Please don't make him fight."

The realization hit him like a punch to his gut. She wasn't worried about her own safety. She was concerned for Elias. He pushed down the flare of anger that simmered beneath the surface.

"Take Elias to the grand cabin and stay low, away from the windows. If"—his eyes flew to the Prince George— "if we get caught–"

"I'll take him with me."

He held her gaze for a long moment. His lips parted to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. He averted his gaze, chest rising with a shiver as he inhaled. "Thank you," he whispered.

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for him."

He nodded but said nothing. He couldn't help but admire her. She stood up for his crew, time after time, selfless and caring, protecting Elias as if he were her child.

She demanded his respect without asking for it. She deserved his respect.

Adrian restrained his gaze from following her as she descended from the quarterdeck, but he couldn't prevent his eyes from lingering on her graceful figure as she crossed the main deck toward the hatch.

"Captain?"

Heat rose in Adrian's cheeks at the quiet voice from Thomas. He met his lieutenant's eyes, reading in them his own thoughts.

Forsake the dreams beyond your reach.

He spun on his heels and squinted at the Prince George , trying to read her captain by assessing her course and the trim of her canvas. "She holds the weather gauge. If I were him, I would come in from the front, swerve aside and rake us. In this weather, she's got a firing range of five hundred yards with her bowchasers and about twelve hundred yards with her 32-pounders. Unless her crew has improved, they will need half a minute for each round they fire."

"Depends who commands her."

Adrian lifted the spyglass again. The white ensign at her stern whipped tight in the wind, but she was too far away to reveal the identity of her captain. She flaunted the Union Jack in her foremast, gliding through the water, responding to the slightest command from the helm.

"I can't tell. Get ready to float the stern out at my command," Adrian requested. "Have the gun crews ready. Whoever he is, we'll give him a surprise broadside when he approaches. Let's see what her new captain is made of."

An ominous silence settled over the Ranger as the crew took their stations. Adrian stood motionless, watching the Prince George approach, aware of her captain's eyes on him, assessing him, seeking to divine his plans from the activity in the rigging and the shifting of his ship.

Three thousand yards.

Who had been promoted to captain after him? Rogers, his second-in-command? Or had Lieutenant Montgomery advanced from his gun division? A tightness filled Adrian's chest. Both Lieutenant Rogers and Lieutenant Montgomery had defended him during the court martial after he was arrested for treason. They were blameless witnesses to his ordeal, both loyal to the end.

One or both might be on board the Prince George.

He pushed the train of thoughts away and inhaled.

Twenty-five hundred yards.

"Gun crews at the ready!"

A few hundred yards, and he would wreak havoc on his erstwhile pride. He counted the yards, a monotonous countdown to doom, watching as the Prince George trimmed her sails and glided into position, unaware she was within reach of the Ranger's guns.

"Back her stern out!"

The order echoed along the deck and up into the rigging. The men in the shrouds hauled at the bowlines, and Matheson and Kinsley pulled at the wheel, straining the rudder to its limits to force the Ranger's rear out and swing the ship around. The Ranger rotated slowly as if taking her time to savor the view of the gray horizon and exposed her broadside to the British Navy.

"Fire!"

The shock of the explosions reverberated through the timbers. Gray plumes billowed from the gunports, an acrid sulfurous smell invading his nostrils.

The Prince George shook under the daring assault, wood and canvas torn asunder, but she held the windward position and her helm steady. A fiery volley answered the Ranger's defiance, but they were still out of harm's reach, and the assailing shots fell short into the waves.

Adrian studied her as she trimmed her canvas to tack and unleash another round while the Ranger continued her pivoting course, spurred by the recoil of Adrian's guns. "Dammit."

The next broadside from the Prince George would target their aft and the gun powder magazine. He met Thomas's eyes across the quarterdeck.

"We should try to tack," his lieutenant suggested. "Or she'll blow us to hell."

Adrian's hands balled into tight fists, and his teeth ground together with a sharp ache. He watched the Prince George glide into position, proud and relentless. The hair on his nape stood like he could feel the triumphant smile on her captain's lips.

Adrian sensed his crew looking at him, waiting for an order, a command, a sign that would redeem them from their fate, and he yearned to have the answer, but at that moment, for the first time during his career at sea, he found none.

The defeat weighed on his shoulders, sinking deep into the core of his soul. His mind spun, questioning his judgments, second-guessing his decisions that had led them to this moment of defeat.

Numbness seized his limbs, replacing the rage and despair with a powerlessness he had felt once before—when Commodore Hood's soldiers shackled him in front of the Prince George's crew and charged him with treason against the King.

Ashcroft had won again; this time, Adrian and his entire crew would pay the price.

He had to admit defeat. "We won't make it. I'll give Miss Hawthorn over in exchange for a free pass. We can escape through the reef tract. The Prince George can't chase us there; she's too bulky."

"Even if a pardon existed, they would never bestow it on you," Thomas reminded him in a somber voice. "You're a traitor in their eyes."

"I can't fight them, Thomas. It is too risky. Miss Hawthorn may get hurt, and we are bound to lose. It is my only opportunity, but I'll admit it's slim."

"I still think…" Thomas's voice died, and his eyes focused on something behind Adrian. "Uh…"

Adrian turned to see what had caught his lieutenant's attention. "What the hell?"

Miss Hawthorn strode across the main deck toward the ladder to the quarterdeck, a groggy and pale Elias in tow.

"Miss Hawthorn, return belowdecks immediately!" Adrian's growl cut through the waves when the pair ascended the quarterdeck.

"No."

The same defiant no as she had served him when he had ordered her to follow him from the Chirton to the Ranger . She breezed by Adrian and Thomas, keeping her gaze on the Prince George .

"Elias, return belowdecks!"

Adrian sensed the hesitation in Elias's tiny body and saw the insecurity in his eyes, but Miss Hawthorn tightened her grip on the boy's hand and dragged him toward the aft railing. Reaching behind her head, she unfastened the silk ribbon securing her hair, and with a gentle tug, she freed her strands and shook them loose. Her tresses cascaded over her shoulders and back, lashing about her face in the wind, revealing the unmistakable presence of a woman—a woman with a child.

"Miss Hawthorn, step away from the railing immediately!"

With her head held high, she faced the British Navy warship, and for a beat, Adrian wondered if Thomas could hear how hard his heart hammered.

Adrian closed the distance to her in two long strides. "What are you doing?"

"This is your only chance," she said, not letting go of the Prince George with her eyes as if she were talking to her captain and not Adrian. "They won't redeem you even if you release me, and you know it. If her captain has any honor, he will spare his guns when he beholds women and children on board."

"I don't need your help," Adrian hissed. "This is a madman's folly. He doesn't have any honor."

"Captain."

He ignored Thomas. "You'll get your head blown off–"

"Captain!"

"What?" Adrian whirled around to face Thomas.

"She is ceasing preparations to fire."

Adrian's attention returned to the warship, and he watched the blue-coated officers assembling along the side railing of the Prince George's poop deck. The frenzy of activity on board the warship subsided, her sails furled, and her sinister guns remained silent.

Avaline turned to Adrian, clutching Elias's hand. "You are one of the best, Adrian," she said firmly but quietly. "Bring us to safety."

He looked at her in silence, chest heaving with each breath. "Fucking hell. Fucking hell! "

His eyes traced back to the Prince George , scrutinizing the ship as if looking for a change of heart in her captain, but the warship bobbed on the water like a duck, calm and quiet.

"Lieutenant, set sails and bear away, three points on the larboard bow," he ordered. "Matheson, climb topside and take us through the narrow reef tract before us. We'll thread the needle and escape between the islands."

He rested a hand on Elias's shoulder. "Elias, we'll get out of here safely. Go belowdecks and get some sleep. I might need you later."

"Yes, Capt'n." Elias nodded.

"Come on, Elias." Miss Hawthorn ushered him toward the ladder. "Let's find you something to eat and get you settled in. You'll feel much better when you wake up."

She followed Elias, but Adrian's arm shot out, and his fingers clutched her wrist. Their eyes locked, and unspoken emotions passed between them, leaving the promise of an unchartered territory of feelings to be explored.

"Did you do that for him as well?" he asked, voice husky. Her pulse throbbed against his fingers, quick and fluttering.

A tug jostled the vessel as the Ranger heeded the setting of the sails.

He searched her face, pierced her with his eyes, stripping away the barriers to her soul—challenging her to give him another reason, but she said nothing, and he didn't push her.

"I need to retract my words. Thank you for what you did. It was foolish and risky but extremely courageous, and it saved the crew."

She nodded and broke free, and he let her slip out of his grip.