Destiny's Captive Page 3

  The cloaked woman, flanked by two masked men, entered the cabin and Noah stilled. Within the raised hood, a black veil covered her features. “My apologies for our methods, Mr. Yates,” she offered. “But it was necessary. If your head aches, I can offer you something that will ease it.”

  “All I want is to be freed from these ropes,” he snarled.

  “You will get your wish—when it’s time.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “We already have it.”

  “And that is?”

  “Your boat,” she replied simply.

  He stiffened. “What do you want with my boat?”

  “I can’t tell you everything, Mr. Yates. A woman must have some mystery.”

  He struggled again against the ropes.

  “You may as well lie still. When my grandfather taught me those knots, he said they’d hold a dragon if need be and he’s been proven correct.”

  “What was he, a pirate?” he spat scathingly, hoping to offend her with words, since he had no other weapons.

  “As a matter of fact, he was. Stealing boats is in my blood, I suppose.”

  “I demand that you release me!”

  She shook her head seemingly with pity. “We all have dreams, Mr. Yates.”

  He shot back. “Pirates hang, you know.”

  “Only those caught, and we have no intentions of doing so.”

  “Why my boat?”

  She shrugged. “It fits our needs, and I’ve shared all the information I plan to. Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Do you wish to relieve yourself? I wouldn’t want you to be any more uncomfortable than is necessary.”

  “No,” he gritted out. What he wanted she wouldn’t allow—which was to get his hands on her.

  “Then I shall leave my companions to watch over you.” Offering him a nearly imperceptible nod of farewell, she took her leave.

  And as she did, Noah bellowed with fury-fed frustration.

  In the silence afterwards, he glanced over at the two masked men she’d left behind. “I’m a very wealthy man. I can pay whatever you ask if you’ll cut me free.”

  Silence.

  “Do you value your lives so lowly that you’d let a woman lead you to the gallows, or does what she offer between her legs—”

  Instantly, the gleaming blade of a machete was pressed against his throat. “Say one more word,” the man invited sinisterly from behind the bandanna, “and I will slit you from stem to stern. You know nothing of her or us. She’s not a whore.”

  Their eyes warred for a silent moment and Noah sneered, “It’s easy to threaten a man tied down.”

  His companion pulled him away and they returned to their positions by the door. Noah schooled his anger but he hated being in such an impotent position.

  An hour later, the woman hadn’t returned and Noah’s shoulders were on fire from being in such an unnatural position for so long a period of time. He was certain that even if he could get free it would be a while before his arms functioned normally again.

  When she finally arrived she had the silver rapier in hand, and he wondered if that was something else bequeathed to her by her pirate grandfather.

  “It’s time for us to part company, Mr. Yates. You’ve been an excellent host.”

  He added her sarcasm to the list of things he didn’t care for about his evening.

  She walked over to the foot of the bed and took up a position between his spread-wide legs. When she slowly raised the rapier he instinctively shrunk back and he swore she smiled from behind the veil.

  “My friend is going to cut you free. Make one false move and I will geld you.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “Do you understand?” she asked in a voice as soft as the shadows in the cabin.

  He nodded tersely.

  “Good.” And she silently signaled the man with the machete to approach. The blade sliced through the rope as easily as if it were a mango. Noah’s right arm dropped free and he moaned with relief in spite of himself. The man walked around to the opposite side of the bed and a second later the left arm was cut loose.

  As his ankles were released one by one, she cautioned during the process: “Remember. Don’t move.” And because he believed her earlier threat, he complied.

  No longer bound by the ropes, it might have been the perfect moment for him to mount an attack to change the odds but his arms weren’t strong enough to pick up a spoon, let alone take on the pirate git with the rapier and her machete-armed companions. All he could do was lie there and pray the burn in his shoulders, ankles, and knees would subside soon.

  “I’ll give you a few moments to regain some of your strength,” she said to him, “and then we’ll go above deck.”

  Noah had no idea what awaited him but with each delayed moment, small amounts of life returned to his limbs.

  She was apparently astute enough to anticipate that. “Let’s go.”

  Faced with the overwhelming odds and having his own pistol trained on him by one of the men, he moved slowly to the door.

  Above deck, the night was bright with the moon and stars. If he had to meet his death, he preferred it be under the stars.

  “Into the rowboat, please.”

  He stilled.

  Under the light of the lantern held aloft by one of the men, he studied her. Only then did he realize how short-statured she truly was. “The rowboat?”

  “Yes, Mr. Yates. I told you we weren’t after your life. Just the Alanza. That’s Spanish. Is it named for your wife?”

  “No. My mother.”

  “Ah.”

  Noah tried hard to see her face but the darkness, in combination with the veil, made it impossible.

  “Shall we?” she asked, gesturing with the rapier. And in that split second of movement the light from the lantern fell on the only thing that might help him identify her in the future. An old scar in the form of an X gleamed palely on the back of her brown hand. “There’s water and food from your stores. Your coat and papers are there also. I’d row west were I you.”

  Noah studied the small woman who’d been the root of this maddening adventure and vowed aloud with soft menace: “I will find you if it takes the rest of my life, so stay alive until I come for you, my little pirate, because I will be coming.”

  She visibly stiffened in reaction, giving him the evening’s only measure of satisfaction.

  Without another word, Noah climbed into the boat and was lowered down to the black surface of the sea. He checked the stars overhead in an effort to fix his position and forced his protesting arms to row west while his beloved ship sailed east and out of sight.

  Pilar left the piloting to the crew and went back down to his quarters to see if he’d left anything of value behind; after all, she was from a family of rogues. Before bringing Yates aboard, she and Tomas did a hasty search for weapons and such to insure that if he somehow freed himself from her grandfather’s dragon knots he wouldn’t be able to mount a counterassault. The cursory inspection uncovered a few rifles and some knives, which she planned to turn over to the rebels, and now as she studied the space it seemed to resonate with his presence. I will find you if it takes the rest of my life, so stay alive until I come for you, my little pirate, because I will be coming. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the memory of his parting words and although she doubted he’d ever make good on the threat, the certainty in his tone made her heart pound with unease. Determined not to think about it, she walked over to the nightstand and picked up a framed photograph that was there. Staring back was a strikingly beautiful woman with dark hair. She was seated, wearing an ornate gown and flanked by three boys. She wondered if this was his mother. Looking closely at the boys, she was almost certain that the solemn-faced youngest of the three was Noah Yates. The eyes were the same, as was the then unscarred jaw. His brothers perhaps? Having no answer, she set the frame down again and crossed to a worn desk. It held two drawers. The top one was
filled with charts, maps, and a ship’s log. The bottom drawer revealed a large number of papers, which she withdrew. They were musical charts and she found that surprising. Having no musical training, she didn’t know what tune the notes represented but penned across the top of one of the sheets were the words Requiem for the Sea and below that his name. Surely he wasn’t a musical composer? As she slowly leafed through the seven pages, Tomas entered.

  “Find anything we can sell?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but I did find these.”

  She handed him one. He scanned it and asked, “Music?”

  “Yes, and his name’s on one of the sheets. I think he may have composed them.”

  “No one will want to buy this. What else did you find?”

  In spite of Tomas’s dismissive response, she thought the music impressive. It made her wonder who Noah Yates was beneath his wealthy and yes, angry exterior. She knew a few songs taught to her by her grandparents but they were either religious or borne of the sea, and they certainly weren’t the composers.

  “Now, these will bring us some funds,” Tomas exclaimed over the open lid of a chest. In his palm were two pairs of expensive gold cuff links. They’d fetch a fine price indeed but for some reason her conscience balked.

  “We’ll not be selling his things.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “We’ve already taken his ship. Doesn’t seem right to steal what’s inside, too.”

  “Since when did you become so holy?”

  She cut him a look.

  “So, we just leave what’s here to rot, or are you planning to give him back the ship someday?”

  She had no ready reply.

  “Did he scare you with that talk about finding you? Is that what this is about?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t know what she was about. All she knew was that for some reason she was conflicted over what was usually a fairly straightforward decision. In the end, she gave in to what was best. “You’re right, they’ll fetch a fine price.”

  Tomas continued to observe her closely. “Are you all right?”

  “I am. Pay me no mind. Let’s see what else is here.”

  The chest held a couple changes of clothing, some bedding, a shaving set, and another surprise: paints and a brush. Further exploration turned up an easel behind the bed. On a wall hung a seascape that she’d noticed earlier but hadn’t paid much attention to. Now she viewed it with interest.

  “Do you think he painted it?” Tomas asked.

  She shrugged.

  “First music, now paints. Never knew Americans to be so cultured.”

  She agreed. The small painting was a night scene of a storm on open water. Dark, brooding clouds were above an angry wave-tossed sea in shades of black and indigo. Flecks of gray capped the roiling waves. Her sister Doneta was the family’s art forger and Pilar wondered what she’d make of his talent. To Pilar’s untrained eye it appeared to be fairly well done.

  “Worth anything, you think?”

  “We’ll let Doneta decide.”

  Tomas placed everything they planned to sell inside a pillow slip taken from the trunk. He added the painting to the haul.

  Pilar gave the space one last scan. “I think we’re done.”

  Tomas agreed. “I’ll place this with the guns we found.”

  As he departed, the American’s ghostlike presence continued to fill both the space and her mind. Knowing she had more pressing matters to worry over, she shook him off and went above deck to join her companions.

  When the sun rose, the exhausted Noah was picked up by a ship belonging to the Spanish navy and taken aboard.

  After hearing his story, the captain, a reed-thin man in a too-large uniform asked, “A pirate, you say?” He didn’t appear too impressed by the tale. “More than likely smugglers or at the very least, rebels. They negotiated a surrender the last time, but lately they’ve been causing trouble again.”

  “I don’t care who they are or what they call themselves, I want my ship back,” he said while pacing angrily.

  “That’s understandable, but they could be anywhere by now, and with no other description than the leader wore a cape and veil . . .” His words faded and he shrugged. “I will file a report when we reach Havana. Maybe your ship will show up at one of the other ports.”

  “I need to find my ship!” he declared, pounding on the desk for emphasis.

  “Mr. Yates, I know you Americans think the sun rises and sets on your desires, but we may be on the verge of war again, and we can’t drop everything to go searching for a ship stolen from you by a woman.”

  The man’s derisive tone stung. Noah was already embarrassed enough at being a pawn in the woman’s game. The sarcastic reminder only added to his frustration, but he reined in his temper. “My apologies for being so rude and overbearing. Were it not for your kindness I’d be still oaring my way back to Havana.” He ran his hand over his tired face. He owed the man his thanks. Another captain might have simply sailed by. Noah prided himself on keeping his emotions in check, but this situation had him at his wit’s end.

  “We will do all that is possible to learn the fate of your ship, Mr. Yates. I promise you.”

  “Thank you.”

  A short while later the ship dropped anchor in Havana’s harbor and Noah was rowed ashore. After thanking the sailors, his first order of business was to find his crew. He could only imagine what might be going through their heads upon finding the ship gone. To his relief they were holed up at one of the boardinghouses that catered to Americans.

  “What’s happened?” Dennison asked. “We thought maybe you’d sailed off without us.”

  Noah told the tale once more and the men stared, stunned. Before they could ask the many questions he knew they were harboring, he waved them off. “We can discuss the particulars later. Right now, I need to see about securing more funds—did I mention that I was robbed as well?” Just thinking about the pirate git threatened to raise his temper again. “While I’m gone, ask around about another ship going west. I’ll pay your passage.” He strode out, leaving the still gaping crewmen behind.

  Dawn was just breaking when Pilar and her crew reached the eastern tip of Cuba for the final leg of their journey home. The guns they’d picked up from their smuggler contact in Santo Domingo were safely aboard and now they were slowly sailing up an inland river bordered by rocks and vegetation in an area near the coast. “Watch those rocks, Tomas,” she called out as he piloted the narrow passage.

  “I’m minding them, Pilar. Just stop your nagging.”

  His tone held a smile and an answering one curved her lips in reply. They both knew the waters like the backs of their hands. Between what she’d learned about these waters from her grandfather and Tomas from his fisherman father they could’ve navigated the way blindfolded. There were spots so shallow the rocky bed all but scraped the schooner’s hull and other stretches wide and deep enough to support a brigantine. That they’d been able to successfully accomplish their mission without a hitch was elating. No one was hurt, the guns were secured below, and other than having to deal with the very angry Noah Yates, stealing the ship had been as easy as the breeze lightly filling the sails. She wondered if he’d had to row the entire distance back to Havana or been picked up by a fishing boat. The waters near the capital were fairly bustling with activity after sunrise, so more than likely someone had come to his rescue. He was still furious, no doubt, and she supposed he had ample reason. After all, they had separated him from his property, and that it had been accomplished by a gang led by a woman was probably even more galling—no man enjoyed being bested by a member of the opposite sex.

  Even though she had bested him, his parting words continued to resonate ominously. Something she had no words for had passed between them at that moment and she was still feeling oddly unsettled. She’d taken great pains to keep her features and those of the men with her hidden so he’d not be able to identify them later and she felt confident about havin
g accomplished that as well. It was highly unlikely they’d meet again, yet since casting him adrift, she found herself thinking about him, with his scarred handsome face, even though she had no business doing so.

  Her reverie was broken by the sight of the waterfall ahead. This end of the island was mountainous, untamed, and filled with a lush green of paradise, where stands of red bananas, cocoa, coffee beans, and coconuts grew unimpeded. Waterfalls dotted the area, too, offering places to swim, fish, play, and in this case a place to hide. Her grandfather and his most trusted pirate comrades used the cave behind this particular fall to shelter their ships and booty from the prying eyes of the British and Spanish navies. Pilar was reasonably certain the Europeans had no idea what lay behind the cascading water because their ships were too large and bulky to navigate the way, but behind it lay a cave vast enough to safely hold a ship the size of the Alanza and not be seen from the outside. She and the men hauled down the sails as they neared the rocks. Everything above deck would be soaked by the deluge as they passed through the powerful flow so they all held on as Tomas slowly steered them through and into the shadowy darkness of the cave.

  Once inside they set the anchor and transferred the oilcloth-wrapped guns and powder to the rocky ledge. Eduardo and his son Jose had relatives who lived nearby, so they immediately set out to retrieve a wagon that would be used to transfer the guns to Santiago.

  She and Tomas sat on the edge of the rocks to wait. He asked, “Do you think Yates has been found?”

  She shrugged. “I wondered about that, too, but I’m sure he has been.”

  “Still worried about him finding us?”

  She lied, “No, so let’s not talk about him.”

  He nodded.

  When their friends returned, she and Tomas swam out with their cargo and once it was loaded into the wagon’s false bottom, they headed south for the two-day journey home. In ten days, they’d return for the Alanza to get her refitted, then sail to Santo Domingo for another rendezvous with the gun smuggler.

  Chapter 4

  Alanza Yates didn’t think there was any woman in the world happier than she. Two of her sons were now married and had gifted her with daughters-in-laws and grandchildren she absolutely adored. She’d gotten a big kick out of watching Philadelphia seamstress Mariah Cooper tame her stepson, Logan. Middle son, Andrew, and his wife, Billie, had had an interesting courtship as well. Both married couples lived on Rancho Destino property, the sprawling ranch she’d inherited from her late parents, and having them near gave her joy as well. In a few weeks, her third son, Noah, would be docking his ship, the Alanza, in San Francisco, and the thought of having all three boys with her again filled her heart.