Page 9 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

“C

ap’n says to go ’ere an’ give the woman what lives there this note.” Finn handed Emeline a torn piece of parchment and a small pouch, but his eyes were on a pub house across the street. Licking his lips, he shoved his pipe back into his mouth.

Beyond him, Charlie marched down the walkway, weaving around citizens and slaves.

“Why does your captain not join your debauchery ashore?” Emeline asked.

Finn reached beneath the stained bandana covering his head and scratched what had to be flea-infested hair. “None o’ yer business, Miss, wit’ yer fancy words. Now, get on wit’ ye.” He waved her away like a stray dog. And with that, he joined the other pirates who’d come ashore and headed for the tavern.

Leaving Emeline all alone with a note, a bag of coins, and a terror that threatened to consume her.

What sort of man with a speck of decency left a lady alone in a nefarious port town without benefit of escort?

Tears threatened to burst. She stomped her boot in the sand. Nay! She must be strong like her family. She must trust that God had a plan. She touched the Ring she’d stuffed in her pocket and wondered how long before Captain Keene noticed it missing. More importantly, why had Bandit given it to her? Of a truth, he was a thieving little monkey. But why her? She smiled. Regardless, it gave her some satisfaction that after all his trouble acquiring it, the devious captain had lost it again. Served him right.

Her eyes latched upon Charlie, her unusual attire causing a stir amongst the crowd through which she confidently strode. Why did she not join the other pirates for a drink? A sudden urge to follow the woman swept away Emeline’s dire circumstances.

'Twas easy to keep from being seen amidst the bustling morning crowd of citizens shopping, servants hurrying to do their master’s bidding, and the poor slaves, hauling heavy loads on their backs. Wagons filled with goods brought ashore rumbled over the cobblestones, followed by beribboned carriages from which peered gentlemen and ladies in their finery. Such a contrast between those privileged with wealth and those who lived and breathed at the pleasure of their masters. But life was full of contrasts, wasn’t it? And injustices. For here she was, the granddaughter of an earl, but as poor as any slave on the island.

Charlie rounded the corner of a mercantile and started down a narrow dirt road that ascended a hill. Finally, just as Emeline’s breath began to heave from the exertion, the woman turned down a pathway to a group of houses clustered together and entered one of them on the far right.

Emeline crept closer for a better view. A pub? Brothel? Store? Nay. None of those things. The woman, no doubt, had a paramour here in town, which would explain her emotion earlier on board the ship.

Whatever the case, ’twas none of Emeline’s affair, for Charlie had made it quite clear she would ne’er defy her captain. With a sigh, she spun on her heels and headed back toward the main part of town.

The note read Cayon Street. Three houses on the right. The red one .

The rest of the note was in French, but Emeline knew enough of that language to guess at the words.

Prenez soin d'elle. Mot envoyé à son père. Il vous récompensera. Signé

V?tre, Blake

Take care of her. Word sent to her father. He will reward you. Yours, Blake . Yours, indeed. Emeline huffed. No doubt one of the captain’s many mistresses spread across the Caribbean.

She bit her lip. But he did say he’d sent word to her father. She glanced up from the note to see a group of men staring at her from across the way. Pirates or sailors from the looks of their garish attire, feathered tricorns, and myriad swords and pistols strapped on their hips. One of them doffed his hat, bowed slightly, and winked.

Oh, my . Heart slamming against her ribs, she hurried to get off the streets posthaste. A woman alone was sure prey for these ruthless libertines.

The red house was easy to find. Hands trembling, she knocked on the wooden door, casting a glance behind her. Thankfully, her admirers had given up following her.

A woman with hair as red as her door answered. A would-be beauty if not for the paint on her face and lips and the overtight bodice that pushed her bosoms up near her chin.

Her gaze traveled over Emeline with suspicion. “ Oui ?”

Captain Keene had sent her to a brothel! Fury boiled in her veins as she stood there, unable to speak, unable to move. Laughter brought her gaze down the street where another group of slovenly men sauntered past.

She handed the woman the note.

Her painted brows lifted as she read. Then, blowing out a grunt, she held out her hand, palm open.

Confused, Emeline shook her head.

“The coins.” The woman gave an incredulous snort.

Hence, the money Emeline thought the captain had given her, the only generous thing he had done, she now handed over to this slattern.

At least the slattern led her inside.

“You are acquainted with Capitaine Keene, non ?” The woman sashayed down a dark hallway past a brightly colored receiving room and another cozier parlor with stuffed chairs, woven rugs, and a large dog that lifted his head at their passing.

“Not in the way you assume, mademoiselle.”

The woman merely huffed in reply. Gathering her lavish skirts, she ascended a set of curved stairs onto a landing lined with a railing on one side and three closed doors on the other, one of which she opened.

“You may tell the…how do you say…rakish scoundrel…that I do not want his castoffs.” Anger darkened the woman’s red-painted cheeks.

Castoffs ? Indignant, Emeline eased past her into the room. “I beg your pardon. I am not one of his doxies.”

The woman flattened her lips, studying Emeline with suspicion. “Hmm. Certainly not like his usual.” She shrugged. “Very well. You will be comfortable in here, Mademoiselle .” Untying the pouch, she opened it and glanced within, a wide smile forming on her lips. “And provided with one meal a day until your papa arrives. Turn around.” She spun her hand in the air. “Let me see you.”

Unsure what to do, Emeline slowly pivoted.

“ Oui , you could make a good deal of money while you are here.” She jingled the pouch of coins. “Why rely on the generosity of capricieux men like Blake when you can take care of yourself, eh?”

Heat swamped Emeline at what the woman suggested. Yet despite the air fleeing her lungs, she managed to choke out, “I thank you, madam, but I…but I…”

“Ah, I see.” She smiled, not a cruel smile, nor one that indicated displeasure, but one of understanding. “Very well. I’ll send Miss Catherine with some food and”—her nose pinched—“perhaps a clean gown and underthings. Oui, oui, you are about the same size. You may thank me later.”

With that, she closed the door before Emeline could utter another word.

’Twas a nicely decorated chamber, complete with a four-poster bed, a carved chest of drawers, a tall wardrobe, and a single upholstered red chair. A colorful woven rug graced the wooden floor, while heavy damask curtains framed the window. Emeline moved to look out upon the city. Beyond the many roofs, a strip of turquoise water sparkled in the sun. Bare masts poked into the sky, idly rocking like a maestro’s baton in some deranged orchestra. She wondered which one was the Summons , but what did it matter? She was free. And safe for the time being.

Thank you, Lord .

Retrieving the Ring from her skirt pocket, she held it up to the sunlight, admiring how the rays sparkled off the crimson gem in the center. Did it possess the power Captain Keene claimed? For there was no denying the unusual mist and then the change in wind and tide that had given him the advantage. Either way, Emeline knew of only two forms of supernatural power in the world—good and evil, God and Satan. God no longer worked through objects as in the days before Jesus. Nay, He worked through His children filled with His Spirit. Hence, the Ring’s powers must come from the enemy of mankind.

Which was why she must get rid of it immediately. Hide it where no one would ever find it. Toss it into the depths of the sea. Or perhaps throw it into the fire where all the evil it possessed would burn.

b

“Where is my Ring, you dung-soiled traitorous beast?” Blake darted for Bandit, but the fiendish monkey jumped onto the desk, screeching as if he were about to be skinned alive—which he might very well be once Blake got ahold of him.

If Blake got ahold of him.

He lunged, but the little weasel whisked off the desk and sped across the cabin, squealing like a baby.

The door opened. “You all right, Capitaine ?” Maston poked his head in.

Bandit raced out the door in a blur of brown fur. Growling, Blake fisted his hands. “Now I’ll never catch him!”

“Your wee monkey?” Maston glanced over his shoulder. “What has he done to you?”

Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “He stole something of mine. A Ring.”

Maston waved a hand through the air, the torn lace at his cuffs fluttering. “With the last haul we took, you can buy another.”

If only that were true. He ground his fists until his fingers ached. He had but one recourse.

An hour later, he emerged onto the quarterdeck and approached the railing. Beneath him on the main deck, his crew awaited his command. Some stood, a few sat on barrels, others leaned on the bulwarks. All cursed, chortled, and squawked like a flock of preened hens—hens he knew would stab him in the back if he didn’t keep their pockets lined. Above them, white sails glutted with wind pulled the ship over the mighty swells of the Caribbean. Off the starboard rail, the sun touched the sea, flinging ribbons of maroon and tangerine over the horizon. A warm breeze whipped his hair behind him as he leveled his boots on the deck and crossed arms over his chest.

Chattering brought his gaze up to Bandit, hanging from the ratlines, grinning at Blake in victory. Devilish hound! The monkey was the only one who knew where Blake put the Ring when he wasn’t wearing it. It must still be on the ship, for the monkey never went ashore before they’d left St. Kitts at midday.

“I have lost a Ring!” Blake’s shout rose above the wind and waves, snapping all gazes in his direction. “It is of no value to anyone save myself.” He went on to describe the Ring and ordered the crew to search the ship from stem to stern. “Whoever finds it will receive a bag of gold equal to twenty pound and a case of rum.” He hoped such a huge reward would keep the pirates from merely pocketing the Ring should they find it, for they would surely determine the trinket to be of lesser value.

At first the men looked shocked that he offered such a large sum, but then “huzzahs” rang through the air and the crew scattered like rats to cheese. All except his surgeon, Sam, who seemed disinterested as he dropped down the hatch back to his quarters.

Blake smiled and pointed a finger of warning at Bandit, but the monkey only climbed higher. ’Twas best, for in Blake’s current temperament, he’d dismember the varmint and hang his parts from the masthead.

Yet by the time the majestic sun dared peek above the dark sea after a tortured night, no Ring had been found.

Finn plucked his pipe from his lips and shrugged. “Sorry, Cap’n. I ne’er seen pirates work so hard in all me life. Most o’ ’hem stayed up all night, tearin’ the ship apart.”

As if to offer proof of Finn’s statement, Rummy dragged himself into Blake’s cabin, his remaining arm swaying by his side as if it could no longer move. Even young Pedro had shadows beneath his eyes, though he still smiled at Blake as he entered.

Charlie sauntered in, leaned back against the bulkhead, and fisted hands at her waist. “A cruel joke, Captain? There is no Ring, eh?”

“No joke, I assure you.” Grabbing a bottle of rum, Blake took a swig and handed it to Rummy, who had sunk into a chair, his head dropped in one hand.

“The Ring is not on board, Capitaine .” Maston entered, swiping off his feathered tricorn. “If it was, it would have been found by now, non ?”

“Perhaps someone tossed it overboard.” Charlie offered the one explanation Blake did not wish to hear. He ground his teeth. Think…think . He pictured the Ring, remembering how it lit up in the lady’s hands and not his.

Wait. Bandit gave it to Miss Hyde once.

Would he have done so again?

“Finn, turn the ship around. Rummy, have your drink, then back to the helm. Hard about. We head back to St. Kitts.”