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“Grab the cargo. Sink the ship.” His black eyes flickered dangerously. “Take the crew.”
“Take ’em? Why not just kill ’em?”
“Because the useful ones, we’ll keep. And the others—the ones who’ve been a constant thorn in my side—” Armon flashed a venomous glance in Lexley’s direction. “Those I have plans for, plans that’ll make them pray to die.”
“What kind of plans?”
Armon rubbed his bristled jaw. “Can you still navigate the waters around Raven Island?”
“Ye know I can,” the stout pirate answered proudly. “Not in the Fortune, of course—I wouldn’t risk damaging ’er on the rocks. But in a longboat? I’m the only one who can whip Raven’s currents and come out alive.”
“Good. In that case, don’t sink their ship—yet. Transfer all but the troublemakers onto the Fortune. Then, board the Isobel. A handful of our crewmen are still there, awaiting instructions. Have them tie up our unwanted passengers. Sail out to Raven.” A malevolent leer. “At which point, toss the bastards into the longboat, row them out to the island, and leave them there—to starve and rot.”
“I get it.” An admiring nod. “In the meantime, ye and the Fortune will be headin’ to Dartmouth to make yer exchange.”
“Exactly. Once you’ve disposed of your cargo, sail to Dartmouth in their ship. Then sink it, reboard the Fortune, which will be in the cove we agreed on, and await my arrival.” So saying, Armon held up the black gem, pivoting it slowly in order to admire all its facets. “I’ve waited a long time for this day. And no one and nothing is going to stand in my way.”
“Good morning.”
That deep baritone penetrated Courtney’s haze, and she blinked, taking in the sunlit room, the disheveled bed—and the man who stood at its foot.
“How do you feel?” he inquired.
“You changed clothes,” she murmured inanely, assessing his fine waistcoat and polished boots, a sharp contrast to the rolled-up sleeves and muddied breeches of the man who’d rescued her.
Startled, he glanced down at himself. “I customarily do at the onset of the new day. Is that unusual?”
“No. But before you looked like a fisherman. Now you look like a…” Her brow furrowed. “What is your title anyway? Duke? Marquis?”
His lips twitched slightly. “Sorry to disappoint you. A mere earl.” A penetrating look. “You haven’t answered my question. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been beaten, inside and out.” Speculatively, she glanced at the tangle of sheets surrounding her.
“You had a restless night,” the earl explained. “Each time the laudanum started to wear off, you became fitful. I hope you’ll have an easier time of it today. In any case, you must begin replenishing your strength. When Matilda advised me you were coming around, I sent my housekeeper, Miss Payne, to fetch some tea. Perhaps later you can manage some toast. It’s the only way you’re going to improve.”
As the earl spoke, bits of memories trickled into Courtney’s mind in ugly, measured increments.
Abruptly, she grabbed at the bedcovers, sifting through to find the treasure she’d been holding during her last conscious period.
“Your timepiece is safe,” her rescuer assured her. “I placed it in the nightstand drawer. I was afraid you would break it when you began thrashing about.”
Courtney stilled, emotion clogging her throat. “Thank you. As for sparing the watch, your efforts were for naught. ’Tis already broken. It broke the day Papa died.” Turning her face into the pillow, she confessed in a trembling voice, “I prayed I’d awaken to find this was all a horrible nightmare.”
“I understand.”
Slowly, she lifted her head from its protective nest, pivoting until her anguished gaze met his. “I’m not sure why,” she whispered, “but I believe you do.”
A heartbeat of silence.
The earl cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. “Miss Johnston, I realize you’ve been through an ordeal, one you’d prefer to forget. Nonetheless, I must ask you some questions—if you’re physically able to answer them. Are you?”
Before Courtney could reply, a willowy woman of middle years entered the chamber, carrying a tray. “The tea you requested, my lord.”
“Thank you.” He indicated the nightstand. “Leave it there. Miss Payne, this is Courtney Johnston, the young woman I spoke of. She’ll be staying here while she recuperates.”
“Miss Johnston.” The housekeeper nodded. “I know Matilda has been tending to your needs. You couldn’t be in better hands. Still, as I am overseer of the female staff, please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Payne. You’re very kind,” Courtney managed awkwardly.
