“You cheated.”
“What’d ye expect, lovey? Can a tiger change its stripes? I am what I am—a wily pirate.”
Darcy pressed his eyes closed, feeling foolish. You could not hold a scorpion in your hand and expect it not to sting you. What had he been thinking, making a deal with Alex? He rose to his feet, but he felt low.
Alex turned to her crew, waving her arms in victory. “We have a new crew member. Miss Elizabethis a lady, and I expect ye miserable lot to treat her with respect and yer best manners.” She pointed the tips of her sabers at them. “If any of ye make any unwanted advances on our lady guest, ye’ll answer to me, to Jaffa, and to Mr. Darcy, who’s proved himself today, d’ye not agree?”
Cotton and Bauer cheered his name. Da Silva, Beckett, and Boone clapped, nodding in deference. Even Jean-Christophe applauded.
Alex twirled to face Darcy, lowering her voice. “That was a good fight, Darcy. Ye’re not The Blade, but ye should be proud of yer performance.”
Darcy was not flattered.
“If yer lady had any doubts about ye before, ye can bet she doesn’t now. Ye can thank me later.”
A sick feeling clenched Darcy’s stomach. Once again, Alex had manipulated him for her own purpose. He searched the crowd, finding Elizabeth standing with Jaffa. “I failed,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Ah, but now ye’re somethin’ ye weren’t before,” said Alex.
Darcy glared at her with open disdain.
She continued, looking entirely too satisfied with herself. “Ye’re her hero. I may not know how to make Nick love me, but I know how a woman thinks. And I’ve made ye irresistible.”
CHAPTER 16
Nicholas woke up in his dank, dreary cell the following morning, cold and stiff. Either the colonel was full of drivel or he’d come to his senses and changed his mind. After all, who was Nick to this Darcy and his family? He was a complete stranger—a reformed pirate. The law would never allow Nick to prove himself a changed man. Why should the colonel?
Sitting in a ball, he waited for the chill to seep out of his chest while he inspected the bars. He was too weak to attempt to bend them. He hadn’t had a proper meal in…. Nick’s stomach growled. He would trade his soul for a loaf of Jean-Christophe’s bread. A bite of his beef stew. Perhaps it was best not to remember.
Nick kicked the straw at his feet and stood. He and Alex had drawn straws over the chef—lengths of twine, but close enough—and Alex had won. Nick had knownshe’d cheat; she always did. He hoped she choked on a chicken bone.
Keys clanged against the metal door, and a guard stepped inside, fumbling through more keys on a ring. “You have friends in high places,” he grumbled as he crossed the room and grabbed Nick’s bound hands and unlocked them.
Nick dared not say anything lest his good fortune shift like the tide. Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed like a good man. Nick was inclined to like him, though it remained to be seen if he could be trusted.
Trust was everything. If a man had nobody to trust, he had nothing. And if a so-called friend betrayed his trust, that person was dead to him. He accepted his resentful nature; it had kept him alive this long.
He followed the guard down the long hall and down the stairs to the open yard where the less offensive criminals meandered, past the guardhouse. They did not stop him, so Nick kept walking. But the sight of the gallows in the courtyard drew him up short. The sturdy beams and trap doors invoked as much fear within him as they did in his nightmares.
“Blackburne,” a voice to his left called out.
Colonel Fitzwilliam walked away from the carriage he must have been waiting in, freshly shaved, coat brushed, and boots gleaming—a stark contrast to the mucky streets and the stench of the prison.
He looked down at his own frayed trousers andstained shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t dress for the occasion. Are we going to have tea with Prinny?”
The colonel chuckled. “Not the Prince Regent. My father.”
Nick swallowed down his shock. Who were these people?
“My father is the Earl of Matlock, and as a peer of the realm—”
“He can do whatever he wants,” Nick supplied, wary. He had known too many peers—so-called princes—who abused their status and got away with crimes men like Nick hanged for.
“That is one way to put it.”
“I’m on bail, then? He paid off the warden?”
“He secured your release, Nick, on the condition that you are under our care. Anyone who challenges it shall have His Lordship to deal with.”
