Page 5 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

G

rabbing the hilt of his cutlass, Blake uttered a growl and rose to his feet. The cabin spun, and he blinked to clear his vision before firing a scathing gaze at his quartermaster. “Stand down, Finn. There’ll be no hanging tonight!”

Finn’s eyes darkened as he stared at Blake, his grip tight on the knife. And for a brief moment, Blake thought his good friend would defy him. But, with a huff, he sheathed his blade, grabbed a bottle of rum, and stormed out of the cabin.

Maston chuckled and glanced her way. “How could such a lovely lady be a witch?”

The surgeon, Sam, rose to his feet, brushing crumbs from his waistcoat. “Witches are but a figment of uneducated and demented minds.”

Rummy, who had yet to take his suspicious glare from Miss Hyde, shook his head. “But she were right about the croc.”

“A good guess is all,” Blake said, glancing at the lady. Terror streaked across her lustrous eyes. Still, she said naught to defend herself. As if sensing her dismay, Bandit leapt from his perch on the window ledge, scrambled over the table, and jumped into her lap.

At first, the lady shrieked and jerked back, but when Bandit remained, chattering to her softly, she began stroking his fur.

Charlie plopped one last piece of biscuit into her mouth and stood. “If Bandit approves o’ her, then so do I.”

Odd sight, that. One Blake could hardly tear his eyes from. “Good, then you can take her to Barnacle’s old cabin.” He waved a hand of dismissal at Charlie. “See to her womanly needs for the night.”

“Me? What do I know of womanly needs?” Charlie winked at him but finally moved to where the lady sat.

Blake turned to dismiss the rest of them, but Rummy was already stumbling toward the door, muttering unintelligibly, Sam and Maston on his heels.

Clutching Bandit, the lady slowly stood and, with trembling hands, gave him the monkey. Their eyes met and, despite his alcoholic haze, he saw something in them, something deep, meaningful, kind, even? A peace he’d been seeking his entire life .

All in one glance. Pish! Blasted rum! He took the monkey, and Miss Hyde turned toward Charlie, instantly breaking the spell, and followed the master gunner out the door.

Finally alone, Blake set Bandit on the table, fished the Ring out of his pocket, grabbed a bottle of rum, and dropped onto the stern window ledge. Moonlit diamonds sparkled across an endless sea of ink that oscillated in and out of view with each rise and fall of the ship. The waters were tempestuous this night. Much like his soul.

The woman baffled him. Why? He’d grant she was not the usual strumpet who graced his cabin. Here was a lady of means and education, her grandfather an earl, her father next in line for that prestigious title. Yet she bore none of the pompous snobbery of her class. And though clearly offended by the mannerisms of his crew, she did not give off an air of insolent contempt, but rather one of pity. Perhaps due to her fears? Still, he did not sense the normal terror he’d expect from a lady in her predicament, but rather a natural unease, accompanied by the oddest sense of peace.

Aye, peace.

But what to do with her now? She was not difficult to gaze upon with her silky hair the color of chestnut, her delicate face, strong chin, and shimmering golden eyes. Not to mention her womanly curves. Though nothing like the buxom beauties he was accustomed to, she had an intelligence about her, a knowing, and a treasure he sensed deep within her that he longed to discover—a treasure he’d felt when he first laid eyes on her at Nassau.

Hang it all! What was he thinking? He could not keep her. He’d committed many sins, but never kidnapping and ravishing women. Besides, the last thing he needed was an encounter with the infamous Captain Alexander Hyde.

Even with the Ring…

Aye, he finally had the Ring! He held it up to the moonlight, wondering if it would glow as it did in the lady’s hands earlier. Nay. But its beauty was still evident in the lantern light— the twinkling of gold, the lustrous red jewel in the center, and the ancient inscriptions along the edge. The legends were true! It had command over the weather. Which meant it must also possess the power and wisdom of one of the greatest kings on Earth.

He smiled. And it would give the same to Blake. Then the world would know his true value, and those who had insulted, abused, and rejected him would pay a heavy price.

Wind whistled against the stern windows as the brig creaked and groaned over a wave.

Lifting the bottle to his lips, he took a deep draught. Bandit jumped beside him and swiped at the Ring.

“Ah, ah. little one.” Blake closed his hand over it. “You won’t be stealing this again.” He shook his fist at the beast.

Bandit cocked his head and scolded Blake, pointing his hairy finger at him.

“Off with you!” He shoved the pesky animal away. Why he kept the filthy monkey defied all reason. He took another sip of rum, his thoughts drifting to the mysterious cloud that had saved him from a difficult battle.

“It controls the weather,” the old Jewish sailor had told him. “Wind, wave, and storm.”

And indeed, it had. Grinning, Blake slipped the Ring onto his finger. A perfect fit, as if it was made for him.

“It also has other powers,” the man had added as they sat chained in the hold of a Royal Navy ship.

“As in…?” Blake had asked, barely able to speak for lack of water. He’d expected to die within days anyway from thirst, starvation, or at the end of a rope in Jamaica, where they were heading. Listening to the mad ravings of the Jewish pirate took his mind off the throbbing pain from his recent flogging.

“Wisdom and the ability to command demons they say.” The Jewish man chuckled and scratched his thick flea-infested beard. “Some say the wearer can speak with animals.”

Blake had laughed at that last one.

“But the most important power it holds…” He had leaned closer, the chains around his feet rattling, his voice a raspy whisper… “is the power to rule the world.”

Rule the world . It sounded as good a goal as any. Which is why he’d asked the madcap sailor the whereabouts of this mystical Ring.

As it turned out, he’d managed to escape the clutches of the British navy a week later after they’d dragged him ashore. That was a year ago, and he’d searched for the Ring ever since.

“I finally have you.” He fingered it as he gazed out over the dark sea. “And the world is now mine for the taking.”

b

Though Emeline was glad to leave one of the most vulgar displays of barbarity she’d witnessed in quite some time, despair quickly returned when she was escorted to a tiny cabin overrun with rats, all of whom scattered as soon as Charlie entered with lantern in hand.

“Sorry ’bout the vermin.” The woman kicked one out of the way. “Ole Barnacle Ben, God rest his soul”—she made the sign of the cross—“weren’t the tidiest, as you can see.”

A stench as if something or someone died stung Emeline’s nose, and she covered it with her hand as Charlie hooked the lantern on the deckhead. Plates of moldy half-eaten food lay across a table, on the bed, and along the floor, accompanied by grime-encrusted attire tossed hither and thither in abandon. In the corner, a bottle of rum lay on its side, shifting with each sway of the ship. A leather baldric hung on a hook, and a single stained and shredded coverlet lay crumpled on a swinging cot that hung by ropes from the deckhead. Beside it, a sliver of starlight forged through the darkness from a tiny round window on the hull.

“Ain’t nothing left of any value,” the woman said, lifting a hand to her nose as well. “The crew came and took what they wanted.” She finally looked at Emeline, a spark of pity in her eyes. “I’ll have Pedro fetch this rotten food, Miss, an’ bring you some grog to drink an’ water for washing.”

’Twas the first kindness Emeline experienced aboard this bucket of brigands. “Thank you.”

“Jist doing the cap’n’s bidding, Miss.” The woman studied Emeline. “You’re a proper lady, ain’t you? I can tell by your speech and mannerism.” Her tone grew instantly hostile.

Emeline swallowed, wondering at the sudden animosity she felt pouring from the woman. “I have been educated, if that’s what you mean.”

“An’ raised in a proper home, wanting for nothing.” Planting fists on her hips, she snorted as if it were a crime. Save for the slight mound of her chest, the smooth skin of her face, and a tumble of brown hair, no one would guess a female lurked beneath the stained white shirt, leather waistcoat, tanned breeches, and myriad of weapons stuffed in her belt.

“I wouldn’t call us wealthy,” Emeline replied with caution. This was no woman to cross. “But aye, I’ve been blessed by God to have all I need.”

“God, bah!” Charlie turned to leave.

Emeline touched her arm. She didn’t know why. Perhaps out of desperation for company. Perhaps because she wanted to know more about her captor. Perhaps because something about the woman tugged at her heart. “Please stay a moment.”

The lady’s brows collided. “What for?”

“I’m curious. I’ve never met a lady master gunner.”

“First of all, I ain’t no lady.” She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. “An’ I earned my post. I’m one of the best gunners in all the West Indies.”

Emeline smiled.

“Does that surprise you?” She raised an impudent brow as she balanced her boots on the tilting deck.

“Not at all. It pleases me to see a woman capable of doing a man’s work and proud of it.”

“And why not? Women can do most jobs better than men,” Charlie said with confidence.

“I quite agree. You should meet my grandmother. She once captained a pirate ship and won battles on her own.”

Surprise flitted across the woman’s expression, an expression that seemed to soften. A tiny smile lifted her lips. “I should like to hear that story one day.”

“I’m happy to relay it to you…. Charlie, is it?”

“My real name is Charlotte, but I prefer Charlie on board the Summons . No need to remind these lusty pirates I’m a woman.” She winked at Emeline.

Indeed. “So, that’s the name of this brig?” Emeline stored the information away in case she needed it later.

“Aye, named by the captain. Something about a new call on his life.” She gripped the handle of a pistol stuffed in her belt. “You’re not like most fine ladies I meet, all hoity toity, looking down their noses at me.”

Emeline nearly laughed. “Nay. I was raised on a ship.”

“Humph.” Suspicion furrowed Charlie’s brow as the brig careened over a wave.

Emeline pressed a hand on the bulkhead to keep from falling. “May I ask you something?”

Charlie merely stared at her.

“Does the captain kidnap women often?” Since it seemed this lady was a champion of women, perhaps she’d not agree to one of her gender being mistreated.

“Kidnap, nay. But aye, he’s had his share of wenches aboard.”

Of that Emeline had no doubt. “Do you think he means me harm?”

She shrugged. “Who knows wit’ him. He’s a reckless type, that one. Both his moods and actions none can predict.”

Wonderful .

Emeline drew a deep breath and lowered to sit on the cot. The cold bars chilled her through the threadbare mattress.

Charlie started to leave, then spun back. “But never fear, Miss. You ain’t his usual fare. Besides, he’s not a cruel man, not as evil as some pirate captains.”

With that she left, slamming the door, leaving Emeline alone with her rats and her fears and no more assurance of her safety than before.

As promised, the young lad Pedro soon arrived. He greeted her with a boyish grin and shoved plates of rotted food and what must have been poor Barnacle Ben’s clothing into a huge burlap sack.

“Thank you, Pedro. You’re a good lad.”

The boy stopped short and stared at her. “I’m no lad, senorita , I’m a man already.” His voice deepened, cracked, then raised again as if to prove his point.

She smiled. “Of course. You’re right.”

“And I’m goin’ to be a pirate captain just like Captain Keene one day.” He continued his cleaning.

“I know it sounds adventurous to be a pirate, Pedro, but most of them shorten their lives at the end of a rope.”

He chuckled. “Not the good ones.” But a frown soon stole his joy. “Not the smart ones like the captain. An’ he’s teaching me everythin’ he knows.”

She wanted to say, that shouldn’t take long but thought better of it.

“I only hope I can learn.” He picked up a pair of breeches that remained stiff in his hands. Cringing, he did his best to shove them in the sack. “And be as brave as he is. But I don’t know.”

The ship canted to larboard as a blast of salty wind swept through the small porthole.

“Don’t know?” Emeline asked, sensing the boy’s sudden sorrow.

He shrugged and glanced her way. “They say I’m not too smart, don’t have any particular talents.”

Oddly, she found she could relate, especially when she compared herself to her family. “I doubt that is true.”

A glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes. Then it was gone. What had happened to this lad to make him believe he was worthless?

The boy soon left but returned with a basin, a pitcher of water, and a clean coverlet, if you could call it that. Despite her efforts to keep him talking, he begged off with an excuse of many duties to attend.

She didn’t like being alone. Even at her family’s estate in Kingston or on her father’s ship, Ransom , she preferred to be around others, particularly those she loved. In both places, she shared a room with her sister, and they oft stayed up half the night talking and dreaming. Esther dreamt of opening an apothecary where she could use her herbal knowledge and healing power to help the sick, while Emeline longed only for a romance similar to her mother and father’s and a wonderful, godly hero who would steal her heart. Then together they’d sail away to great adventures as they raised a crew of wee ones.

Now that she thought about it, her dreams seemed rather selfish compared to her sister’s.

Another strike against her.

A rat scampered across the deck, sniffing at the places where plates had been. She thought to scare it away but for what purpose? More would take its place. Just like the rats aboard this ship.

The brig rolled over another wave, sending the lantern swinging above and spinning a web of light and dark over the tiny cabin. A chill prickled her skin, and she hugged herself. It was in the loneliness that the accusations arose, the taunts, the reproofs that always contained a sprinkling of truth. During those moments she’d always sought out her family, confessing her fears, and feeding off their words of faith and hope until all the voices of censure dissipated. But she could not do that now.

“Oh, Lord, where are you?” She’d get on her knees if it weren’t for the rats. As it was, she bowed her head and clung to herself, longing for a hug from her father, who always made her feel safe.

Of late, she’d been asking the Lord for a romantic adventure. Was this His answer? Could Captain Keene be the man she’d dreamed of? Nay! The man was a pig, a libertine, a greedy, power-hungry pirate with the manners of a goat. That he had not ravished her yet was to his credit—the single decency she could point to. But what now?

“Lord, forgive me.” Tears burned in her eyes. “I’ve been selfish. Asking only for things to please myself, to make my life happy.” Sniffing, she wiped her face.

No wonder God had not given her any talents. No doubt she would only have used them for her own joy. “Forgive me, Lord.”

A sigh deflated her. He had answered her prayer for an adventure, but not the one she sought, for Captain Blake was no godly hero.

And that meant she was in a tremendous amount of danger.