Page 104 of Debtor’s Daughter

“I came to you because my father was marrying me off to a man I despise. But the man in question is very wealthy and had offered to settle all my father’s debts as well as giving him a stipend for the rest of his days.”

She watched as his face closed off. She had no idea what he was thinking but his stance was rigid, his fists clenched.

“I see,” he said. “A very generous offer but then ...” He looked at her, and she thought she saw anger in his eyes. “But then he was buying something very fine indeed.”

Henri swallowed. “If my father cannot pay his debts ...” She shrugged, finding she could not continue.

“And this wealthy man,” he asked, his tone clipped and cold. “Who was he?”

“Alexander Sinclair.” Her voice was barely audible now and she had the impression that some great cloud was gathering over them. “The Earl of Falmouth.”

She watched as Lawrence closed his eyes, and she thought he seemed to be in pain.

“Lawrence?” she said.

“Don’t,” he replied, his eyes snapping open and the blue bright with anger. “Don’t call me that. I’m Captain Savage to you, do you hear me?”

She gasped, shocked and hurt by his behaviour but she had no time to demand why he would treat her so as once again Mousy hammered on the door.

“They’ve signalled, Cap’n, they want the girl, and ... they want you.”

Henri’s chest grew tight, it was as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room, but Lawrence ... Captain Savage did not seem surprised. He even smiled a little though it was not a happy expression.

“Tell them the terms are acceptable.”

“What?” Mousy stared at him, uncomprehending, before storming into the room and slamming the door behind him. “I’ll do no such thing! What’s wrong with ye?” he demanded. “We’ve still got a fighting chance! Lord, man, we took the Corona and she ‘ad more guns than thisun so you can’t be tellin’ me ye worrit we’re out gunned! What the devil’s ailing ye?”

She watched, her chest aching as she saw the pain in Lawrence’s eyes.

“It’s him, Mousy, it’s Alex.”

Whoever the earl might be to Lawrence, Mousy seemed to be well aware of the connection. The big man’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t believe it.”

“We can’t outrun that ship, Mousy,” Lawrence said, his voice soft. “And I can’t outrun fate. Not anymore. Though I’ve had a better run than I deserved, thanks to you, but ...”

“Then I’m coming with ye,” Mousy said, folding his massive arms and butting in before he could finish the sentence.

Lawrence smiled at him, and it was full of warmth. “I know you would, I know you want to, but the men need you. You must get them away, Mousy, they won’t make it without a good Captain.

Mousy shook his head and held out one meaty hand, a finger pointed at Lawrence. “No ... I ...” he began but Lawrence wouldn’t listen.

“Dammit, man,” Lawrence shouted, growing angry now. He turned away and strode to his desk, tearing open the drawers until he found the bottle she had stashed there earlier. “This is my ship, these are my men,” he shouted, pulling the cork and throwing it to the floor. “I’ll not go to my fate knowing they’re all doomed too, and they will be unless they have someone with the wit to steer them true.” He stared at Mousy until the solid man seemed to crumple in on himself and looked at the floor, shaking his head.

“Never thought to see ye go like this.”

Lawrence shrugged and offered him the bottle. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

Mousy frowned and drunk deep, his throat working as he swallowed the liquor. He lowered the bottle and stared at Lawrence. “Maybe ... Maybe ‘e can ‘elp ye?”

There was a snort of amusement from Lawrence as he took the bottle back. “Even the Earl of Falmouth doesn’t have that kind of power, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he was just as eager to see me hanged, once ... once it all becomes clear.” The two men stared at each other. “Go and send the reply.”

Mousy hesitated for a moment before touching his forehead with his finger. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

“Good man.” Lawrence smiled at him as his large friend ducked his head and exited the cabin.

Henri sat down in the chair by the desk, her hands clutching at the arms and suddenly unsure if her legs would hold her any longer. She was exhausted and the events of the past two days were so many and so violently different from anything she had experienced in her life before she could hardly believe any of it was real. It was as though she had been plunged into someone else’s life and didn’t know how she was supposed to act anymore. She put her hand to her temples. Her head was aching, and she was overwhelmed. She couldn’t bear the idea that Lawrence was going to sacrifice himself to save his men. Surely there had to be another way?

“Is there nothing else to be done?” she asked, looking up at him.

He was standing still, just staring across the room, but she knew he was looking into the past and seeing whatever events had chased him into the life he now led.

“No,” he replied. “Nothing.” He turned and smiled at her and went to settle himself in the chair on the other side of the desk. “That ship out there is the finest of her kind. She’s fast, incredibly manoeuvrable and just ...” To her astonishment he grinned at her. “At least I’ll get to sail aboard her for a day or two. I never thought I would.” He sat back in his chair, his finger tracing a pattern on the glass of the bottle. “I saw the first designs for her you see. I always told him she would be a beauty.”

“Told who?” she asked, watching him with tears pricking behind her eyes.

He turned to her and smiled, and this time there was warmth in the blue.

“My brother, Alexander Sinclair.”