Chapter 34

Cold shock stabbed through her veins as if a knife had pierced her heart, leaving her numb.

They didn't believe her.

She held every proof necessary to set Adrian free, but Commodore Hood dismissed her arguments with an annoyed wave.

Adrian was going to die.

"Cover the condemned!"

An officer climbed onto the scaffold with a black hood in his hand. Adrian's eyes—once sharp and deep, the ones she had fallen in love with—stared at a distant point above the buzzing crowd, vacant and resigned, as if he had already left her.

"Please, Commodore!" A wave of panic crashed over her, weakening her limbs.

Hood's brows knitted together in a tight frown—his only display of emotion. He shook his head. "Captain Rogers, escort Miss Hawthorn away."

"No!" Francis barked and landed a heavy hand on her arm. "You'll come with me. I've had enough of your disrespect. You're humiliating me in front of the entire town. By God, I'll make you pay for this."

"Let go of me!"

Avaline didn't dignify Francis with as much as a look but kept her eyes on Adrian's face.

"Behold the enemy of the nation, who has conspired with our foe." Hood turned to the soldier standing by the lever. "Prepare to do your duty. Let this be a lesson to all who dare betray our flag and king."

Hood's voice boomed over the frenzy from the crowd.

"No." Avaline sniffed.

"Yes," Francis hissed and dug his fingers into her arm. "Finally!"

Hood lifted his arm. "Justice must be done."

A murmur spread like a breeze through the throng, and the crowd stirred like a restless beast. Avaline's heart pounded against her ribs like an ominous war drum, signaling an impending danger in the darkness. Suspense hung heavy in the air, and the hostility engulfed her like a shroud of doom, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

The hum of the crowd swelled, yet the world around her receded into insignificance, her entire existence reduced to the image of Adrian standing on that macabre precipice that threatened to obliterate him in an instant. The rope tightened around his neck, and her breath caught as though the noose had tightened around her neck, not his.

She clenched her reticule, the brass frames cutting into her palm. A rasping breath escaped her lips, each inhale shallow and erratic as she watched Commodore Hood's arm point toward the sky.

In a suspended moment, she clung to the fragments of hope, but her mind was barren, her usual reason locked away behind a door while she wrestled with the key, just like she had done in the vault.

"How can you live with yourself knowing you killed an innocent man?" It was a desperate gambit, but the only one she could muster before Hood's hand descended and the soldier pulled the lever.

"Silence!" Francis snarled, and he clenched so tightly around her wrist that he would leave bruises.

"Look," somebody shouted behind her.

"No, please!"

Hood ignored her, and she braced herself for the impending discord—the grating screech of the lever, the sudden burst of the trapdoor swinging open, and the ominous snap of the rope as Adrian's body fell.

It never came. Instead, Hood slowly lowered his arm, his stern gaze fixed upon the bay.

"Look, it's the Goliath ."

The murmur surged, and people shifted their attention from the scaffold to the bay.

Avaline tore her eyes from Adrian and followed the gaze of the crowd. An ailing ship was approaching, listing to starboard, barely maintaining her precarious stance above the water line. All but a few sails hung ripped, and of the once-proud main mast, only the bottom half remained, peeking up from the deck like a shattered monument of a lost battle.

"The French have attacked the Goliath ," Francis barked. "We will be done here by the time she docks. Let's move on."

A murmur emerged among the crowd, like a wave passing through a sea of voices, growing louder and more urgent. Avaline's eyes darted from HMS Goliath to Hood. The Commodore held her gaze for a lingering moment, and deep within his steely eyes, a glimmer of relief surfaced.

Hood turned to the soldier by the lever. "Stand down!"

Her knees buckled under her. Thank God!

"What?" The piercing shriek from Francis came uncomfortably close to her ear. "What do you mean?"

Avaline released a long sigh, a shiver coursing through her as the soldier removed the noose from Adrian's neck.

"Miss Hawthorn."

Commodore Hood extended a hand for the papers Avaline still clutched in her hand. His eyes had lost the steely hue, yet a fleeting thought raced through her mind, the fear of Hood snatching the papers from her, a mocking laugh escaping his lips, and then resuming the execution without mercy. She willed herself to relinquish the evidence against Francis.

"Those papers are false," Francis claimed. A wild cast shaded his eyes. She yearned to distance herself from him, but he refused to let go of her wrist.

Hood turned to Francis, raising his voice over the escalating clamor from the crowd. "Governor Ashcroft, is there any truth to the allegations from your betrothed? Did you orchestrate the attack on HMS Goliath by revealing her whereabouts and cargo with the intention of selling weapon supplies to our enemies?"

"Of course, I didn't! She is spinning a ridiculous story because she has fallen in love with the pirate bastard and pleads for his life at whatever cost."

Hood scrutinized the papers Avaline had surrendered, his brows furrowing deeper as he read. Then, with a determined gaze, he turned to the soldier stationed at the scaffold. "Release him."

"No!" Francis shouted.

He snared Avaline in a tight embrace, his arm curving around her neck, while a chilling, metallic pipe pressed against her waist, sending cold dread shivering down her spine.

A gasp thrilled through the crowd.

"Governor Ashcroft!" Commodore Hood's eyes widened. The tense jaw betrayed a conflict of emotions, torn between authority and a flicker of uncertainty. "Let the woman go. She has nothing to do with this."

"I will let her go when I have your word that you will dismiss these nonsense allegations as nothing but the blabbering of an unbalanced and emotional woman and proceed with the execution as planned."

His arm coiled tighter around her neck like a noose, a suffocating grip that squeezed the breath out of her. She clawed at his arm, but he forced her backward, tilting her off balance onto her heels, and though she was pinned against his body, her arms flailed in the air for balance. The nearest officers drew their weapons, but Francis countered by lifting the pistol to her temple, effectively freezing them in their tracks.

Dear Lord!

He wouldn't shoot her, would he?

"Make one move, and I'll perforate her skull!" Francis growled. Then he hissed into her ear, "Fuck, I would have done that anyway had it not been for your inheritance."

The crowd fell silent, and the only sounds that cut the air were the breeze and the incessant pulsing rhythms of the cicadas.

For the second time in mere minutes, Avaline suspended her breath, a taut wire of fear running through her. Simply breathing felt like a gamble, as if the faintest exhalation could provoke him to pull the trigger.

Her gaze flew to Adrian, who was released from his chains and the hood. Before the irons landed on the scaffold flooring, a silvery sword flashed in his hands, snatched from the soldier next to him.

A choking gurgle escaped Avaline when Francis tugged her toward the flight of steps. She wriggled, but she couldn't break his firm grip.

"Governor, I must insist that you let Miss Hawthorn go. You will get a fair trial–"

"As fair as the one Hainsworth had?" Francis gritted.

"The evidence against him was strong," Commodore Hood said.

"Ava." Adrian's eyes locked onto hers with a flaming intensity across the small expanse between the gallows and the officers' platform, then slid down to her feet. She stared at him, her brows knitting in confusion as he repeated the glide down her body. Her eyes widened.

The dagger.

He gave her a slight nod, a faint twitch of his chin. Her heart burst into a frenzy.

"I demand a ship and free passage to the harbor." Francis continued his retreat, hauling her along.

She stumbled as her foot caught on the trailing edge of her dress. She fell against Francis, and he was forced to loosen his grip on her. She used the opportunity to sink toward the ground, sneaking her hand beneath the hem of her skirt and curling her fingers around Adrian's dagger.

"Get on your feet, woman!"

The cool metal weighed in her palm as she hid the weapon in the folds of her skirt. She held Adrian's gaze as Francis yanked her back up—the air between them charged with an unspoken agreement.

Another gasp swept through the masses when Adrian vaulted over the scaffolding and landed on the platform with a loud bang that shook the wooden podium. His eyes glowed with a fierce light as if somebody held a light to them—a black light—and his mouth set in a tight line.

Goosebumps sparked across her flesh.

Adrian prowled across the platform with soft steps and calculating eyes, but Hood stepped into his path before he reached Francis.

"Get out of the way!" Adrian growled at the commodore, never breaking his gaze from Francis.

"Why, you think you can save your lover?" Francis jeered. "Take one step farther, and your whore dies!"

Adrian halted, shrugging his shoulders like it didn't matter to him, but she knew his face well enough to see the tension in his features. "As you wish." He pointed with the sword at the ship gliding into the harbor. "But that out there is your doing—and your undoing."

When Francis turned toward the bay, Adrian's eyes burned into hers, and her fingers tightened around the dagger.

What if she killed him?

No, she had to aim somewhere harmless, enough to give Adrian a chance to move in.

Aim for the waist or the neck to neutralize an offender.

I wouldn't know how to use it.

Yes, you do.

With a swift movement, she twisted and drove the dagger into Francis's waist.

"Arrgh! What the…?"

His grip on her slackened, and the next thing she knew, Adrian hurled her away into the podium fencing.

Agony seared through her, and she gasped for air but kept her eyes fixed on Adrian. The tip of his sword tilted Francis's chin upward, his gun discarded on the ground.

She saw the fury in Adrian's eyes and felt his wish to kill emanate from his rigid body. A storm of emotions coursed through her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run to Adrian's side, but she couldn't move, couldn't speak.

Captain Rogers extended a hand to Avaline and helped her back to her feet.

"Give this man a sword," Adrian demanded without taking his eyes off Francis.

A long silence stretched, but then, contrary to convention and navy protocol, Commodore Hood nodded for a soldier to hand over his sword to the disgraced governor. Captain Rogers led Avaline down from the platform, and Hood and his officers followed.

Adrian stood motionless, allowing Francis to collect himself and make the first move. Not a word was uttered throughout the crowd gathered around the hillock.

Adrian seemed agile on his feet, moving with grace despite being shackled for days. This was his chance to avenge the wrongs Francis had inflicted on him and his family, the moment he had chased for years at a great price.

When the two men began to circle each other, Avaline shut her eyes but flung them open immediately. She had to watch. She had to know.

Francis thrust forward, reaping a choir of jeers from the onlookers, but Adrian parried his sword with a steely clang that echoed in her ears. Francis staggered but held on to the sword. The crowd erupted in cheers as if watching a chivalrous contest in a tournament.

Francis's next attempt had more force to it. Adrian deflected the attack, his sword sliding along the flat of Francis's sword and sending it astray with a smooth hiss. The maneuver exposed Francis to Adrian's counterattack, and his sword slashed Francis's new silk coat open from shoulder to waist.

The smug smile on Francis's lips changed to a contorted grimace, and the sunshine reflected in the sweat pearling on his forehead.

Avaline fisted her hands so hard her nails cut into her palms.

Please, Dear Lord, please have mercy!

Adrian vexed Francis with a series of taunts, provoking him to the point where he started to act rashly and recklessly. Avaline pressed her knuckles to her lips, wishing for Adrian to fling Francis's sword out of his grip and end the duel.

As though he had heard her silent prayer, Adrian grew weary of poking Francis and unleashed his fury, slashing toward his throat with ruthless force. Francis struggled to parry his opponent's blows as the speed and power of Adrian's sword denied him the opportunity to launch a counterattack. Francis's wounds deepened, red stains spreading on his clothes, and his breath turned shorter and more labored.

As Francis stumbled, Adrian took a few steps back, allowing Francis to regain his balance.

Why, dear Lord? Why?

Fury and disdain swirled in Adrian's eyes. His body tensed, and he assumed a slight crouch, like a poised tiger ready to pounce. A gasp of anticipation spread through the crowd as Francis stiffened, the hush settling over them like a palpable weight. At that moment, it felt like Adrian's sword could sever the tension in the air.

Then, like a lightning bolt, Adrian lunged forward with full power, his swinging blade gleaming in the sun as it sliced through the air. With a swift and precise strike, he disarmed Francis, sending his sword spinning from his grip. The crowd's collective gasp was punctuated by a terrified shriek as they parted, avoiding the weapon's lethal trajectory as it plunged to the ground amidst them.

Adrian's chest heaved, but his weapon was steady as he pointed the tip of his sword at Francis's throat. Avaline's legs trembled beneath her when a roaring cheer erupted around her, and she recognized Adrian's victory. Her heart raced off like a fluttering bird released from a cage.

"Kill me, goddammit," Francis spat. "Kill me!"

A muscle ticked on Adrian's throat.

"Adrian…" she whispered to herself, waiting for him to deal Francis the final blow, but then, to her utter surprise, Adrian lowered his sword.

"No. I won't stoop to your level. Granting you the mercy of death would be too kind." He walked down from the platform with heavy feet and glanced at Hood. "He's all yours."

"No, kill me!" Francis shouted.

"Take him away," Hood ordered, flicking a dismissive hand at Francis. "Captain Hainsworth, I expect to see you at the garrison tomorrow morning. We have much to speak about. For now, you and your crew are free to go."

"Yes, sir."

Commodore Hood turned to Avaline. "Miss Hawthorn, please accept my apologies for not taking your words seriously. I will speak to you as well tomorrow."

Avaline could but nod, the stinging clump in her throat preventing her from speaking.

Hood stepped aside as if he sensed the unspoken words between her and Adrian.

With hesitant steps, Adrian approached, drawing so near that the warmth of his heaving breath ruffled her disheveled hair. A glistening sheen of sweat clung to his brow. His gaze remained locked to the ground as though seeking strength from the earth itself. He drew a steadying breath, his tongue tracing the curve of his lips.

Then, slowly, his gaze lifted to meet hers. In those fleeting seconds before he spoke, the remorse in his clear-blue eyes bore into her, the weight of his regret piercing her heart. The raw emotions as he revealed the depth of his feelings in the wordless display of vulnerability struck her like a storm, cutting through layers of defenses until her soul lay as bared and exposed as his.

"I love you," he whispered.

A soft sniff escaped her, and she let out a sound that was neither a laugh nor a cry.

"I'm so sorry," he continued, his voice breaking. "I should have trusted you. I should have known…" He exhaled. "Can you ever forgive me?"

The tension in her shoulders relented. "There is nothing to forgive, Adrian."

He hauled her close, coiled a hand around her neck, and rested his forehead on hers. "I love you, Ava, more than words can express. I thought the only thing that could make my stone- cold insides feel anything was my hate toward the British, toward Ashcroft, but you have shown me otherwise. You make my blood boil for all the right reasons. Please don't ever leave me. If I don't have you, I have nothing."

She curled her arms around his neck. "I won't leave you, Adrian. I love you."

He cradled her face, his thumb lifting her chin as he tilted her head. His lips brushed hers with a feathery touch, a tremor of emotions exchanged in that fleeting connection. As she responded, opening herself to him, he poured into the kiss the entirety of his love, a forceful declaration that transcended the shocked outcries surrounding them and left no doubt as to his intentions.

"Mine," he growled, a tremor stirring his hand on her neck.

"Yours."