Page 3 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

T

he pirate warned her to stay put. The door slammed, echoing Emeline’s fate through the cabin. Darkness invaded. Not only the cabin, but her very soul. She blinked, her eyes finally focusing on a shaft of moonlight penetrating the stern windows. It landed on a desk covered with maps, navigation instruments, quill pens, and empty bottles. She should pray, but her heart continued to thrash wildly, her breath blasted out her nose, and her mind refused to accept what was happening. Perhaps this was all a nightmare, and she’d soon awake and find herself safe on her father’s ship, the Ransom .

Did people feel pain in dreams like the burn she felt around her wrists from the tight ropes? Did people smell the stench of sweat and blood and rum that now filled her nose and seared her lungs? Everything was so real—the steady rock of the ship, the pounding of bare feet above her as the pirates rushed to do their captain’s bidding, the crank of the anchor chain as the anchor was hauled up from the seabed…

And the shouts of the man who had stolen her from everything she had ever known.

She swallowed down a lump of terror. Nay, this was no dream.

Father God, You know what’s happening. Please, please send my father to rescue me!

A whimper caught in her throat as loosened sails thundered above and the deck shifted beneath her. Stumbling, she slammed against a chair bolted to the floor. A dozen terrifying thoughts taunted her at what these pirates intended to do with her, but she shook her head in an effort to scatter them away.

She must be strong. She must stop whining and do what her siblings would do, what her parents would do. They would not cower in fear! They would look for a way of escape. They would fight to the death, if need be, against such villainy.

Struggling against the ropes that bound her wrists, she approached the desk and sought something sharp with which to cut them. But no knives, swords, or blades of any kind could be found. A pistol stared tauntingly at her, but what could she do without her hands and a flame to light it? Not that she didn’t know how to prime, load, and ignite a gun as her father had taught her.

Her father .

Oh, come for me, Papa!

The ship jerked, sails snapped, and the rush of the sea against the hull blared through the cabin. She gazed out the stern windows. The lights from Nassau grew smaller and smaller, malevolently winking at her—mocking her dire predicament.

The door swung open, startling her, and in marched four pirates, one carrying a lantern. He set it upon the desk, then sparked a match from the flame and lit two other lanterns, including one hanging on the deckhead above.

Emeline thought to retreat into the shadows but remembered her father instructing her that regardless of the terror she felt, she must never show it to her enemies. Hence, she stood her ground and raised her chin.

A monkey scampered in and leapt onto the desk, grabbed a piece of fruit from a bowl, and began chomping on it.

The captain drew his cutlass and laid it on a sideboard before spinning to face his men.

Emeline blinked. ’Twas the man in the market who had rescued her from the horse and wagon. Two chains hung about his neck. An onyx cross dangled from one and from the other, an emblem that looked like a sun. Dark hair hung in waves to his shoulders while a black pearl glistened from his right earlobe. Upon seeing her, his lips curved slightly beneath a thin mustache that matched the black stubble on his chin.

Every nerve tightened in both anger and fear at his insolence.

She recognized two of the other pirates as those who had been with him at the market. The fourth was an older man with gray hair and beard, who carried a satchel.

“What ye goin’ t’ do wit her?” The man with a gray bandana on his head plucked a pipe from his mouth and gestured toward her.

“Yes, indeed,” the older man huffed with disgust. “Are we to add kidnapping of innocent women to your list of crimes?”

The captain shrugged, staring at her as if examining a new toy. “Possibly. Though I have no intention of keeping her.”

Emeline gulped. Was she to be freed or killed? Or worse, sold? Young white women brought quite a large sum from the right buyer.

“Let’s see to that, then?” The older pirate gestured toward the captain, and only then did she see blood on his waistcoat. So, one of the shots had struck him. Good. He deserved it.

After shrugging out of his waistcoat, he tore his shirt over his head and plopped down in a chair. Blood trickled from a wound on his shoulder, but that wasn’t what drew her gaze. ’Twas the powerful muscles that rippled over his chest and arms, much like those of her father and brother. Yet their strength was contained within a case of honor and humility that kept the power in check. This man’s apparently had no limits.

Shifting her gaze away, she examined the other pirates . The one with the slight French accent and dark features wore a blue doublet richly embellished with gold braid, over which tumbled a ruffled cravat. The other pirate—the one with the pipe dangling from his lips and the bandana around his head—bore so many weapons that ’twas a wonder he could walk at all, while the third man was missing an arm below the elbow and looked as though he hadn’t bathed in years. A charming lot, but what did she expect?

The monkey finished his fruit and smiled at her. At least it appeared to be a smile before he leapt onto his captain’s shoulder.

Her mouth ached. The rag had soaked up all her spit, and she started to gag. But no one paid her any mind.

The older pirate finished wrapping the captain’s wound. “Shot went through. It will heal nicely.”

“Thank you, Sam.” The captain stretched his shoulder back and forth. Rising, he grabbed his shirt and flung it over his head. “Rummy, set a course south by southwest. Maston, all canvas to the wind. Finn, you have the helm. Alert me if you see any sails in our wake.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” The man he called Finn gave a salacious wink. “An’ jist what will ye be doin’?” he asked on his way out.

The older gentleman packed up his satchel and left, shaking his head, while the Frenchman, Maston, gave her a flash of brows above a lecherous glance as he headed for the door.

Leaving her alone with the vicious kidnapping pirate and his grinning monkey.

A lump of terror formed in her throat. She’d swallow it down if she had any saliva left. The captain stared at her a moment, assessing her as one would a slave he’d just purchased. He slowly approached.

She wanted nothing more than to dart into the nearest corner, scoot under the cot she now saw clearly in the light, or dive into the massive oak chest and slam the lid shut. Instead, she remained still. As still as she could on the shifting deck.

“Let’s get this out.” He stood within inches of her, his smell of blood and the sea filling her nostrils as he reached up and carefully pulled the cloth from her mouth.

Emeline bent over, coughing and hacking and gasping for air. This seemed to upset the monkey, for he started to squawk loudly from his spot on the back of a nearby chair.

“Apologies for the rough treatment, Miss.” Plucking a knife from his belt, he spun her around and sliced the ropes around her wrists.

“Is that what you call it?” Emeline managed to squeak out as she gripped her throat.

Moving to his desk, he grabbed two glasses and filled them from a nearby bottle, then returned and handed her one. “This will help soothe your throat.”

She rubbed the sores on her wrists as the sting of rum bit her nose. “I do not partake of spirits.”

He cocked his head, a look of surprise traveling across his emerald eyes. “Pity, that.” Then with a shrug, he gulped down both glasses and set them on his desk. Spinning around, he held out his hand, palm up. “Now, the Ring, if you please?”

The monkey mimicked his master’s gesture and held out his paw, grinning at her.

Had the world gone mad? Emeline could only stare at them both, confusion joining her fear. “I beg your pardon?” Forcing back tears, she lifted a silent prayer for strength. “Please, Sir, return me to my home. I am of no value to you.”

“Indeed. But you have something of great value to me.”

“I have nothing you could possibly want.”

At that, a licentious grin raised one side of his lips as his eyes traveled over her in delight.

She took a step back. “If you intend to ravish me, Sir, I will put up a fight.”

He chuckled. “As terrifying as that threat may be, that is not my intention.”

“You are pleased to taunt me, Sir.”

“Captain. Captain Blake Keene at your service.” He gave a mock bow. “The Ring is all I want. As to the ravishing, I have no need to take from you what so many freely offer.”

’Twas true. The man surely had no trouble acquiring female attention. A brief wave of relief swept over her.

Until he stormed toward her. “Enough of this! The Ring.”

Oddly, a vision of an ancient Ring hiding in her pocket appeared in her mind for but a second, and then it was gone. “I don’t know what you are—”

Grabbing her skirts, he groped through them, taking no care to be virtuous.

“How dare you! Do you know who my father is?” She pounded fists on his back, but he seemed not to notice.

“Be still, wild cat.” He uttered a curse but continued. “And aye, I know full well who your father is.”

Terror seized her. If the man knew who Alexander Hyde was, then he must be more than mad to kidnap his daughter. Shoving him as hard as she could, she started away, but he yanked her skirts and wrenched her back. Fabric tore. Did the fiend intend to rip off her gown?

“Ah ha!” He withdrew his hand and held something up to the light, immediately releasing her.

Breath heaving, Emeline retreated. ’Twas a Ring. Just like the one she saw in her vision. But where? How? Memories returned of him rescuing her in the market square and oddly shifting her skirts around.

“You put that in my pocket!”

He grinned, walked back to his desk, and picked up a magnifying glass to examine it.

The monkey scampered over to his master. “This is no toy, Bandit,” the captain said, slapping the animal’s paw away.

For the first time, Emeline allowed herself a deep breath. Perhaps ’twas only the silly jewel that this pirate wanted. Perhaps now he would release her back to her family.

Oh, Lord. Please !

“Why would you do that?” she asked.

He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the jewel. “Let’s just say I needed a hiding place, for there were others after it as well.”

Emeline swallowed, eyeing the door. She could slip out while the scoundrel was absorbed with his Ring. But where would she go?

“Others?” she asked, replaying the scene in her mind. Ah, the men dressed in black! That’s why they were after her. “You steal me from my family and drag me aboard your ship for a silly Ring? Why did you not ask me for it? I would have gladly given it to you.”

One eyebrow rose. He snorted. “There was hardly any time. Kidnapping you was not the plan. It merely became unavoidable. But silly ? This”—he held it up to the lantern light again—“is the Ring of King Solomon.”

“King Solomon. From the Bible?” Now she knew he was utterly and completely mad.

b

Blake studied the lady. Strands of chestnut-colored hair had fallen from her pins and tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. A modest blue gown molded nicely around her feminine curves. Eyes as golden as the sunset sparked with both fear and fury as they glared at him. Yet there was strength in them. A strong jaw, slender nose, and full lips completed a lovely face. Here was a true genteel lady, and he suddenly regretted causing her so much torment. “Is there any other?” he retorted.

Her delicate forehead crinkled. “You expect me to believe that Ring was worn by King Solomon from the Holy Scriptures.”

He smiled. “I have no expectations of you, my lady.”

Frowning, she hugged herself and looked away, and he found himself staring at her, studying this delicate flower, who by all attempts, pretended to be a warrior.

Bandit snagged the Ring from his grasp.

“Come back here with that!” Blake charged after him, but the thieving monkey leapt onto the lady’s shoulder with a fiendish screech.

She leapt back, swatting to dislodge him. But before Blake could reach them, the churlish monkey gave her the Ring and scampered away. He would deal with him later.

For now, he faced the lady. Their eyes were but inches from each other. Shock and dismay sparked across hers…and something else he couldn’t place. She started to take a step back, but he grabbed her wrist and brought her hand up, the one clutching the Ring.

Her lips curved slightly. “Seems your monkey believes this belongs to me.”

He laughed. “My monkey is a thief.”

“Says the pirate.”

He grinned. “Touché, love.” He reached for the Ring. It began to glow. What ? Halting, he stared at the odd sight. It definitely glowed—a crimson light pulsated from the jewel in the center. No doubt he’d consumed far too much rum.

The lady followed his gaze and gasped. Nay, not too much rum.

“Take it, Captain.” She flipped her hand, tossing it in the air. Blake caught it, smiling at her insolent antics.

“And if there is any decency in you,” she continued, “return me to my family.”

“I fear I lost all decency years ago.” The Ring felt warm to the touch, but when he opened his hand, the glow was gone.

A shout preceded Finn barreling through the door. “Cap’n. Newt spotted two sets o’ sails off our larboard quarter. Headin’ straight fer us.”

Blake cursed. “Hang it all! I knew they wouldn’t give up.”

“Who?” the lady asked.

“The Jesuits.”