Chapter 3

"Sails north by northwest!"

The sharp call from the mast jolted Avaline out of her afternoon read beneath the canopy Captain Neville had let strap on the Chirton's main deck. The heavy waft of sunbaked tar tickled her nostrils, blending with the briny scent of the sea.

Molly, her maid, rested her embroidery in her lap and looked toward the aft. "I must say. It has been days since we last sighted another vessel."

Molly pushed up her bonnet and revealed the gray crown braid, her badge of propriety.

A quick look around suggested nothing out of the ordinary. Sailors worked the rigging, swept the decks, and went about their daily business as usual. Mr. Jones, the first mate, was at the helm, his stance stiff as an iron rod. He had wrapped his lanky frame in a dark blue coat, fastidiously fastened to the topmost button beneath his chin, and the reflection from his pristine white breeches glared in Avaline's eyes.

"I assume we will see more ships in the lane as we near Barbados. It is only a few days until we can expect to see land." Avaline squinted across the gleaming waves to the northwest but saw only the rolling waves.

"What if they are pirates?" Molly pondered.

"I doubt they are. Captain Neville told me the risk of encountering pirates nowadays is minimal, and my journey on a non-descript merchant ship is a well-kept secret."

Molly continued her lacework. "I shall be glad when it is over. I never was fond of sea voyages. Long and tedious ordeals of constant rocking, nauseating, and boring. A floating prison, if you ask me, and with the added risk of storms and barbaric pirates."

Avaline bit back a smile. "Have you ever been on a ship before?"

"No, heavens no, but I have a fruitful imagination."

Avaline let loose her laughter. "I don't think your imagination has served you right concerning this voyage."

"That may be, but I shall be much relieved the day we can set foot on solid ground."

Avaline's thoughts drifted to the life awaiting her in Barbados, as they had done so many times since her father delivered her the proposal from Lord Francis.

A few days, and she would meet her betrothed. A couple of weeks, and she would be married.

Married.

The word echoed in her head. Would she find love with Lord Francis? The kind of all-consuming love blossoming between Juliet and Romeo as in the play she was reading? And what about passion?

By accepting an arranged marriage, she faced the risk of not finding love, but it was a risk she was willing to take to have a family of her own.

Avaline folded the upper corner of the page—a habit that would have given her stepmother an apoplectic seizure but which Avaline regarded as a sign of a cherished possession—and closed the book. "I wonder what Lord Francis is like."

"I would wager he is a fine and decent man. He must be; a former Navy captain turned governor. You could have done much worse, my dear, much worse."

"I regard myself lucky I get to marry at all. With my background–"

"Tut-tut! I always knew you would marry." Molly held up her embroidery and scrutinized her work with a critical eye before continuing her steadfast stitching. "You're just like your mama. God bless her poor soul, full of compassion and altruism. Real love doesn't care about background or pedigree."

"I hope you're right." Avaline twirled the engagement ring on her finger, a ring adorned with a resplendent array of dazzling gemstones around a sizeable diamond centerpiece. A bit too ostentatious for her liking, but she appreciated Lord Francis's attempt to please her. "I don't know what to expect."

"Of course not. It is a big change in your life, and it is normal to be nervous. I understand your feelings. I didn't know my dearest John well before marrying him, but he became my best friend and true love."

"I remember John as a devoted husband who couldn't take his eyes off you even after all those years. You made it look so easy. What if Lord Francis doesn't like me?"

Molly reached for Avaline's hand and squeezed gently, her eyes warm like a candle's glow. "Make no mistake, my dear. Marriage is hard work, even when you love and respect each other, but you're smart, beautiful, and strong, and your heart is worth its weight in gold. Pray, what could he not like? I'm most confident your story will have a much happier end than the story you're reading."

"I can hardly fathom I'll be married in a few weeks. Married ."

Molly chuckled and shifted her chair farther into the shade of the canopy as the late afternoon sun crept from larboard to starboard. "I'm so happy for you, and I know your mama would have been as well. You would have made her proud."

Avaline smiled. "Your company means a lot to me. I will appreciate a familiar face when everything is new."

"Of course, I will support you on this new journey, my dear. You're my cousin's child, and I love you as if you were my daughter. I will be there with you every step of the way."

"Thank you for your kind words, Molly. I love you, too."

Avaline ducked back into the fascinating but tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet.

Thankfully, she had foreseen to pack some of the books from the library at Hawthorn Manor. Apart from helping Mr. Hounslow in the galley now and then, there wasn't much to do on board the Chirton besides read and embroider. As for the latter, she would rather sit and gaze at the ocean.

With heat flashing across her cheeks, Avaline plowed through the consummation of Romeo and Juliet's secret marriage.

If only their passion would have been the seed of their eternal happiness!

Sadly, after devouring the play no less than five times, Avaline knew the young couple wouldn't get to enjoy their newfound love.

Four bells rang out when swift footsteps approached.

"Miss Avaline. Mrs. Wright."

"Captain Neville." The anxious cast to Captain Neville's winded voice had Avaline lowering her book. Behind him, the crew released the upper sail on the main mast. A few of the sailors glanced across the swelling sea to the north, and those who had been sweeping the decks had disappeared. "Is everything all right?"

Captain Neville was a man of contrasts: his hair, though flecked with much gray, was dark like a raven's wing, but his eyes were light blue, almost silvery, surrounded by a ring as faded green as the year-old moss on a Cornish moor. He had trimmed his beard and mustache with flawless refinement, but his nose was somewhat askew, as if nudged out of place to add a touch of imperfection to his symmetric features.

The captain wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Ladies, I have reason to believe we are being pursued."

"Pursued?" Molly yelped. "Whatever do you mean pursued?"

Avaline stood from the chair Captain Neville had lent from his cabin and looked from his flushed face toward the north. Three white specs grazed the horizon.

"Fear not, my ladies." Captain Neville smoothened his already smooth blue coat. "Lord Hawthorn chose the Chirton as your vessel because we don't attract any interest and haven't followed the regular sea lane. Pirates–"

"Pirates? Heaven forbid!" Molly pressed her fist to her mouth as she cast a worried look toward the north.

"Pirates wouldn't venture into this area," Neville continued. "They chase merchants sailing along the shortest shipping routes. Pirates tend to prefer smaller ships such as sloops. That frigate"—he nodded in the direction of the white specks on the horizon—"is too fast and too large to be affordable to a measly pirate."

"Why would a frigate pursue the Chirton ?"

"I suspect they have mistaken us for another vessel. It is my honest guess the captain will continue when he identifies us and realizes his mistake. We are signaling our identity to her right this moment. I would still recommend that you ladies withdraw belowdecks until we get the situation sorted. Not all sailors behave appropriately in the presence of ladies, pirates or not."

"Captain." Mr. Jones strode across the main deck. His usual reddish cheeks looked pale beneath the tan. "We have an identification."

"Very well, Jones." Captain Neville turned to the first mate and rested his hands on his back. "Who is she?"

Jones flashed a glance at the ladies and lowered his voice. "It is the Ranger , Captain."

"The Ranger ?" Captain Neville stiffened as his eyes darted from Jones to the horizon and back. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely, Captain. She does nothing to conceal her identity."

"The Ranger ?" Molly repeated. "W-what does that mean, Captain Neville?"

Avaline looked from first mate Jones to Captain Neville. "Is that bad news, Captain?" she asked when the captain hesitated.

"I'm afraid it could be, Miss Avaline. The Ranger is notorious for assailing British vessels, though I can't fathom what attraction her captain finds in the Chirton ."

A stinging itch rushed across Avaline's skin. "How so?"

"Her captain is an American privateer, not much better than a pirate. I must insist that you ladies stay hidden until further notice. There is no reason the Ranger's captain should learn we carry women on board."

The puffiness in Molly's cheeks stiffened into a mask of horror. "Gracious me!"

Avaline tucked her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the breeze from the ocean suddenly wrapped her in a chill. "But you will fight him, won't you? You have guns for our protection."

Neville wet his lips with the tip of his tongue again. "I will do my best, Miss Avaline, but the Chirton isn't a navy vessel, and we don't have strong enough firepower to fight a frigate. Particularly not the Ranger . There is also… er, a risk of fatal injury should there be a full-blown sea battle."

"Heavenly Father, please have mercy on us!"

The fear simmering in Avaline's veins burst into a frenzy at Molly's exclamation. "Will they board the Chirton , Captain Neville?"

"I believe they will. Therefore, I must insist that you both hide belowdecks, and we'll let the captain on the Ranger take whatever he pleases in peace and quiet. After all, my cargo is purely goods and not worth risking our lives over. The Chirton is a merchant ship, and he knows that. That is why you're here; nobody would think the Chirton carries passengers."

Avaline watched the Ranger , following her effortless approach as the proud frigate shot through the waves in an even rhythm.

If the Ranger's captain was after the goods in the Chirton's holds they might stand a chance, just like Captain Neville predicted.

"You're right. Where should we hide?"

"The captain might search the cabins for anything of value, so I suggest you pack away all your belongings and take cover in the lower hold." Captain Neville turned to the first mate. "Mr. Jones, please escort the ladies to the orlop deck."

"Very well, Captain Neville," Avaline agreed. "We shall do as you suggest."

"Good Lord!" Molly exclaimed again, almost crushing the embroidery frame between her hands. "What will they do to us?"

Avaline's heart palpitated when she glanced at the slick frigate cutting through the waves. A chill swept over her back. "Come on, Molly. Let's find a hiding place."

"My goodness!" Molly wailed and held on to her embroidery as if the fragile piece of fabric could save her from pirates. "We are all going to die! The horrible things those pirates will do to women."

"My journey has been kept a great secret to ensure my safety," Avaline said as they entered their cabin. "You heard Captain Neville. Nobody is expecting the Chirton to carry passengers. They will probably sail on once they have filled their holds with his cargo."

Avaline wished she had more faith in her own words. With shaking hands, she stuffed into her trunk the fancy dinner gown Molly had prepared for their usual evening meal with Captain Neville.

The ship bell burst into a clamorous peal, followed by running boots and a hailstorm of orders cracking across the deck. Avaline's heart shot into her throat.

Breathe.

"I knew it. I knew it." Molly sniffed as she collected a few items from the table and packed them. "We will be ravished and killed by those savage barbarians. This is the end–"

"Molly, look at me." Avaline clutched Molly's hands. "We need to stay calm and act fast. Mr. Jones will move our trunks down into the lower holds where they are unlikely to search for anything. Nobody knows we are on board the Chirton , and the pirates won't find anything to give them a reason to look for passengers."

"But Miss Avaline…"

"There is a way out of this." She squeezed Molly's hands a little tighter, however, mainly to reassure herself. "We can make it."

Just as first mate Jones and his crew carried their trunks out of the cabin that had been their home the last four weeks, an explosion from the approaching ship reverberated through the Chirton .

"Dear Lord," Molly wailed. "We are all going to die!"

Boots clattered across the deck above, and voices shouted orders. The Chirton shuddered when Captain Neville ordered the guns to be fired.

"Hurry up." Avaline wrapped a shawl around Molly's trembling shoulders.

A barrage of fire met Captain Neville's defense, putting the Chirton's cannonade to shame. The ship shook beneath their feet, and an earsplitting rumble resounded when something fell hard to the deck above.

Raw tingles spread down her back.

The mast?

What would happen if they couldn't sail after the attack? They would be stuck out on the open sea. Her chest constricted. She forced herself to focus on Molly, swallowing back the tremors in her voice. "Come on, let's go."

Molly's fingers clutched onto her wrist as they followed Mr. Jones deeper into the companionway, past the ladder to the main deck. The acrid odor of burned gunpowder assailed her nose, and she fought to suppress the cough tickling in her throat.

"What if they find us?" Molly whimpered. "I will never forgive Lord Hawthorn for letting you travel across these pirate-infested seas!"

There was no more blaring from the guns, no more running feet or shouting men. Instead, an ominous silence had settled over the Chirton .

"Follow the first mate to the lower decks." Avaline grabbed hold of the ladder and stepped up on the first rung. "I'll catch up with you."

Molly's eyes widened. "You can't go up there, Miss Avaline," she whispered. "I forbid you!"

"I won't, I'll simply have a quick peek."

A dark shade crept over the hatch, further dimming the dingy companionway in a shade of ominous foreboding. Avaline's heartbeat surged at the distant shouting from the Ranger .

"Please, Miss Avaline. It isn't safe."

Avaline clutched onto the coarse ladder and climbed another couple of rungs. She peeked out just in time to see a handful of grapple hooks flying in the air.

The pirate ship rose and dove beside them, sleek, sharp, and dark—a formidable giant beside the nondescript merchant ship, like a thunderous bolt of lightning that could cleave any foe asunder and leave nothing but wreckage and suffering in its wake. Three tall masts stretched toward the dusky sky with what looked like a chaos of lines, ropes, and rigging.

A chill tore across her shoulders and down her arms.

Captain Neville and his men said nothing while waiting for the Ranger's captain. The top of the foremast lay shattered close to the bow, having torn down their canopy as it fell.

"Miss Avaline." Molly's voice trembled. "I beg you!"

Men scurried back and forth behind the Ranger's railing, casting covetous glances at the Chirton . Molly's words forced themselves back into her mind.

The horrible things those pirates will do to women.

The motion of the waves spread from the rolling deck through Avaline's legs and surged in her belly, threatening to toss up the buttered bread from her afternoon tea.

"Miss Avaline, please."

Molly tugged at Avaline's skirt, and she was about to step down when a tall shadow jumped onto the Chirton with grace, unfazed by the heaving deck beneath him.

Avaline drew in a fierce breath.

A head taller than most of the men following him and with shoulders that seemed almost as broad as Luna's, he braced against the roll as if the unruly ship was but an extension of his powerful body.

Flinty eyes sat beneath thick eyebrows and slightly hooded eyelids. Dark stubble covered his square chin, honing the sinister appearance with a sharp, uncompromising edge only softened by the sun-kissed strands of golden hair whipping his stubbly jaw.

The tossing wind filled his white shirt, allowing Avaline a glimpse of bronze skin stretching over a chest layered with dark hair.

"Oh…"

"What?" Molly bewailed. "What is it?"

Avaline's eyes glided lower, down to the dove-blue sash hugging the pirate's slender hips, to the tight black breeches cradling strong legs that seemed carved from marble like the sculptures in the Hawthorn Manor gardens. Her gaze stopped at the hand resting on the grip of his cutlass—a sharp accent to his commanding stature.

"Oh."

He didn't look like a pirate, but he was no less frightening when his murderous stare swiped over the Chirton's crew, as if searching for someone in particular to quench his bloodthirst.

Beneath Avaline, Molly's fear yielded to her curiosity, and she climbed up to peek over her shoulder. "My dear Lord," she whimpered. "This is it. This is it. It is all over!"

With jaws set in a firm square, the pirate locked his gaze on Captain Neville. His lips dragged out in a sneer, and his raspy voice lifted the fine hairs at the nape of Avaline's neck.

"Where is she?"