The Prize. Brenda Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ her way to Britain aboard an American ship. He was about to be given very specific orders to sail west to interfere with American trade there but not to harm any American ships. The niece was clearly unwanted and just as clearly she would soon be in his path.

      Could he use this bit of information? Could he use her?

      “Well, thank you for that!” Elizabeth said. “I am just annoyed at having to take her in. You know how pinched we’ve become these past few years. It has been one thing after another. We cannot afford to bring her out properly, Dev, and that is that!”

      Devlin nodded. There was no guilt. He remained very thoughtful and it became obvious what he must do.

      Eastleigh might not want the girl, but he wanted scandal even less. Oh, how he would enjoy pricking the fat earl one more time! He would seize the ship and take the girl and force Eastleigh to pay a ransom he could ill afford for a young woman he did not even want.

      Devlin began to smile. His heart raced with excitement. This was a stroke of fortune too good to be true—and too good to be ignored.

      CHAPTER THREE

      Late May, 1812

      The High Seas

      THEY WERE BEING ATTACKED!

      Virginia knelt upon her berth, her gaze glued to the cabin’s only porthole, gripping a strap for balance as the ship bucked wildly in response to the boom of more cannons than she could count. She was in shock.

      It had all begun several hours ago. Virginia had been told that they were but a day away from the British coastline, and that, at any time, she might soon see a gull wheeling in the cloudy blue skies overhead. Soon afterward, a ship had appeared upon the horizon, just a dark, inauspicious speck.

      That speck had grown larger. She was racing the wind—the Americana was tacking slowly across it—and it appeared that the two ships would soon cross paths.

      Virginia had been taking sun on the ship’s single deck and had quickly become aware of a new tension in the American crew. The ship’s commander, an older man once a naval captain, had trained his binoculars upon the approaching vessel. It hadn’t taken Virginia long to realize they were worried about the identity of the approaching ship.

      “Send up the blue-and-white signal flags,” Captain Horatio had said tersely.

      “Sir? She’s flying the Stars and Stripes,” the young first officer had said.

      “Good,” the captain had muttered. “She’s one of ours, then.”

      But she wasn’t. The frigate had sailed within fifty yards of them, maneuvering herself to the leeward side so she rode below the Americana, when the red, white and blue American flag had disappeared, replaced by nothing at all. Virginia had been ordered below. The crew had scrambled to the ship’s ten guns. But Virginia hadn’t even made it to the ladder when a cannon had boomed once, loudly but harmlessly, the ball falling off to the side of the stern.

      “Americana,” a voice boomed over the foghorn. “Close your gun ports and prepare to be boarded. This is the Defiance speaking.”

      Virginia froze, clinging to the dark hatch that would take her below, glancing back at the other ship, a huge, dark, multimasted affair. Her gaze instantly found the treacherous captain. He stood on a higher, smaller deck, holding the horn, his hair blindingly bright, as gold as the sun, a tall, strong figure clad in white britches, Hessian boots and a loose white shirt. She stared at him, briefly mesmerized, unable to tear her gaze away, and for one moment she had a very peculiar feeling, indeed.

      It was indescribable.

      As if nothing would ever be sane or right again.

      Time was suspended. She stared at the captain, a creature of the high seas, and then she blinked and there was only her wildly racing heart, filled with panic and fear.

      “Hold your fire,” Captain Horatio cried. “Do not close the gun ports!”

      “Captain!” the first officer cried with panic. “That’s O’Neill, the scourge of the seas. We can’t fight him!”

      “I intend to try,” Horatio snapped.

      Virginia realized there would be no surrender. She needed a gun.

      She glanced wildly around as the captain of the Defiance repeated his demands that they surrender to be boarded. An interminable moment followed as the crew of the Americana hastily prepared to fire. And suddenly the sea changed. A huge blast of too many cannons to count sounded, the Defiance firing upon them. The placid seas swelled violently as the ship bucked and heaved, hit once or many times—Virginia could not know—and as someone screamed, she heard a terrible groaning above her.

      She turned and glanced upward and cried out.

      Horatio was yelling, “Fire!” but Virginia watched one of the Americana’s three masts and all its rigging toppling slowly over before crashing down on several gunners. Several cannons now fired again from the Defiance, but not in unison. Virginia didn’t hesitate. Lifting her skirts, she raced to the fallen men. Three were crushed and alive, one was apparently dead. She tried to heave the mast, but it was useless. She grabbed a pistol from the murdered sailor and ran back to the hatch that led below.

      She could not breathe. She scrambled down and into the tiny cabin that she shared with the merchantman’s only passengers, a middle-aged couple. In the small, cramped and dark space below, Mrs. Davis was clutching her Bible, muttering soundlessly, her face stark with terror. Virginia had glimpsed Mr. Davis on deck, trying to help the wounded.

      Virginia gripped her arm. “Are you all right?” she demanded.

      The woman gazed at her with wild terror, clearly unable to hear her or respond.

      More cannons boomed and Virginia heard wood being ripped apart as they were clearly hit again. Virginia leapt onto her narrow berth, grabbing a hanging strap for balance, and stared at the attacking ship through the porthole. The Americana lurched wildly, and she was almost tossed from the bunk.

      How could this be happening? she wondered wildly, aghast. Who would attack an innocent, barely armed and neutral ship?

      Mrs. Davis began to sob. Virginia listened to familiar prayers and wished the woman had remained silent.

      What would happen next? What did that terrible captain want? Did he intend to sink the ship? But that would not make sense!

      Her gaze moved instinctively back to the quarterdeck where he stood so motionlessly that he could have been a statue. He was staring, she knew, at the Americana, as intent as a hawk. What kind of man could be so merciless, so ruthless? Virginia shivered. Officer Grier had referred to him as the scourge of the seas.

      Then she stiffened with real fear. The Defiance’s decks, a moment ago, had been frenzied with activity. Now the gunners at the cannons and the men in the masts were still. The only activity was a number of sailors climbing down into two rowboats that were tied to the frigate’s hull. Her gaze flew back to the captain with real horror; he was sending a boarding party.

      Now the Americana had become eerily quiet. Virginia already thought that Captain Horatio would not surrender, and nor would she, if she were in command. She checked СКАЧАТЬ