Page 25 of Undoubtedly Reckless (Rebel by Night #2)

Anchors Aweigh

Sabina walked slowly to the cabin, praying no one would notice the cavalry storming the dock. Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the cannons and weapons carried by every sailor. Everyone was armed to the teeth. Then the sound of hoofbeats and whinnies roused the attention of her captors and the shouting started.

She heard rapid footsteps and darted back toward the gangplank. Hard hands caught her and she lashed out with her fist. The hands let her go and she turned to the gangplank to see him.

Roland. Roland, blasting a pistol in someone’s face and battling toward her. Sabina shouldered a man out of her way and threw an elbow into someone else’s neck, struggling to reach the man she loved.

They met near the gangplank. She reached for him and was rewarded with a bruising kiss that imprinted on her very bones. Then he pushed her away. Sabina stumbled into strong arms and she began to fight until she realized it was Tristan, who was not the Darewood brother she wanted at the moment.

“What?”

Sabina gasped incoherently.

“Go with Tristan. Go now!”

Roland ordered and turned back to the battle.

“Come with me!”

Sabina cried as Tristan pulled her down the gangplank.

“He must keep them busy. Quick, we must go!”

Tristan cried. They reached the dock when they heard a sound and an explosion on the deck of the ship shook docks under their feet.

“What the devil?”

Tristan turned back to the ship and then looked at her, plainly torn. He pointed down the docks.

“Straight there, you’ll see our horses,”

Tristan urged and ran back to the battle.

Sabina ran to the end of the dock and could not go farther. She could see the horses held by what looked like Schofield House staff.

Beyond the horses, Sabina could see dark alleys and London. She looked at her freedom and saw another endless series of escapes. It never ended. The freedom was an illusion. She was always running and never free. Sabina wilted in on herself, giving in to self-pity. She had not felt this hopeless since Roland had left her in York.

“I can’t do this,”

Sabina gasped, trying not to sob. “I can’t do this anymore.”

She had to stop running. She knew what Hendriks was capable of, all who he had killed in service of her stepfather’s will. Sabina had seen the arsenal Hendriks had at his disposal. Dutch weapons were among the best in the world. Roland did not bring enough munitions to thwart that.

Roland would die if she left. What was it all worth anyway? It was money, it was only money. She had lived well without it most of her life. All it had cost her was her name.

No more. Sabina turned back to the battle, to where Roland was fighting for her.

Roland loved her and he didn’t even know her name. She would earn his love, and it would be the last thing she would do. This was her debt repaid.

****

Roland had made mistakes, so many mistakes. His men were outnumbered. The brute of a Dutchman had him by the throat while two of his henchmen had his arms. Remy was held next to Daly and the duke had a sword at his throat, courtesy of the bosun.

Sabina was safely away. That was all that mattered. For Oliver and his old crew, Roland felt forgiveness, for they had paid him back for their mutiny. He felt a bit of guilt at the likelihood that Remy, the duke, and his valet would probably die but he had accomplished his mission and the woman he loved would live.

And he did love her. That was his biggest regret, that he had not stolen her away from Verdon and kept her safe. He should have never trusted the duke with her safety.

Roland regretted never telling her, but there had been no time. He had not known until Verdon had already lost her to brigands. And now it was too late for them. She would live, he was content.

“Hendriks!”

That voice stopped them all. Roland knew real fear at that moment. He knew that voice. He loved that voice.

Sabina stood on the aft of the ship, holding a torch near the mizzen sail she stood under, which was impossible. He had freed her. He had sent her ahead with Tristan.

Why had she come back? What was the blasted woman thinking?

Then he saw Tristan take advantage of the stillness to quickly punch one of the kidnappers, which did nothing to improve the situation. He cursed his brother’s thoughtlessness. The boy had one job—to see Sabina to the carriage—and had not seen the task through.

“Let him go,”

Sabina said, for all the world as if she had the right to give the order. “Laat hem gaan,”

she said in a steady voice. It took a long moment for Roland to realize she was speaking another language. Sabina knew Dutch. This was the latest in a series of queer surprises the day had gifted him.

Sabina suddenly thrust the torch up and one of the mizzen lines glowed red, smoking.

“Stop her!”

a voice cried.

“The munitions!”

someone else bellowed. Hendriks, apparently the brute holding Roland, bellowed at them all in Dutch and they quieted.

“How much gunpowder do you have on this vessel, Hendriks?”

Sabina asked coldly. Roland blinked. This was a different side of Sabina. “Can you shoot me before I set the ship on fire? Can you escape? I will say it again: let him go.”

Sabina indicated there were munitions onboard. If she set the sail on fire, they would all blow, and likely take out the dock too. More importantly, the goal had been to rescue her and she was undoing all their work.

Of all the rotten times to be brave. His heart clenched at her courage, that she would risk so much for him, but now he was afraid of her. Aria had seen this coming. His sister had warned him and he had not listened. This Sabina was not a schoolteacher or governess. This Sabina was terrifying.

“Under what incentive, poepie?”

Hendriks asked. Roland could feel the grip around his neck loosening.

“My signature and my signet,”

Sabina said. “I will sign over my shares of Van Dellen Shipping to you.”

“Oh, no, no, meisje. What would I do with your company? I am no businessman. Your uncle is waiting for you. I’ll not be swayed by a pretty face, not again.”

“Luisteren,”

Sabina said, nodding at the rabble around them. Right on cue, there was a shout. “Ze komen voor zichzelf. Je wordt opgejaagd als je hun kleine Edelman pijn doet. Laat hem gaan.”

Hendriks walked Roland toward Sabina, and Roland had never been so humiliated in his life. Not when his sister broke him out of prison. Not when his crew had mutinied.

“Hendriks, that’s far enough. He walks to me alone,”

Sabina ordered. Roland heard Hendriks chortle and the ruffian sketched a rough bow.

“Natuurlijk, mevrouw. Alles wat je zegt,”

Hendriks said and shoved Roland forward.

Sabina held the torch higher, the flames licking the bottom of the mizzen sail, and everyone collectively held their breath. Roland made it to Sabina and reached out to her.

“My name,”

Sabina said, setting a hand on his chest, stopping him from holding her, “is Audrika. And I have always loved you, Roland.”

She shoved her shoulder against him, propelling him over the railing and into the dark water of the Thames.

****

Roland slammed into the offices of Percival Shipping, wet and furious. The office was not far from Greenland Docks. Oliver and his old crew had pulled him out of the harbor just in time to see the brig disappear.

He had lost her. This was unacceptable.

The Thames clung to his clothes in a miasma that was distinctly London. Remy, Tristan, and the duke followed. Roland did not need to turn to see them, he could smell them. He had recognized the men who took Sabina. They had not recognized him.

Audrika. He finally knew her birth name. It was not the name he knew her by but he would learn. If only he had the chance. He would never let her go again.

Sabina. They had Sabina.

He would kill them all.

First, though, he needed to know why his sister was there.

“You didn’t find her, I take it,”

Aria surmised, taking in the rabble. She was standing behind a desk, maps of shipping routes in front of her. She nodded at Mr. Cathcart, who bowed and left.

“They took her at the docks, Princess. I need a ship prepared to make pursuit,”

Roland said, his mind rapidly planning his next moves.

“Dock 16 of our private docks,”

Aria informed him, as she rolled up a map. Roland stared at her. “I ordered Ariadne readied for sail, as a precaution, but Mr. Cathcart needs two more hours to roust a crew.”

Roland looked at Oliver, who immediately turned to bark out orders to his men. Roland turned back to his sister.

“We have a crew,”

Roland said.

“God’s tits, the same crew that mutinied against you?”

Aria said in exasperation as she pulled out dry clothes for him. Roland briefly wondered why she had seen the need to stock the office with such an array of clothes and then focused on the issue at hand.

“I’ll take the chance, Aria. We must make chase now,”

Roland insisted.

“Have a care, Darewood. Your woman will be heavily guarded. Do you even know who she is?”

Remy asked. Roland frowned.

“She’s Sabina. You’ve met her,”

Roland said impatiently.

“Her real name, you twat,”

Remy said, accepting a towel from Aria.

“Audrika. She said her name was Audrika,”

Roland said.

“Audrika Van Dellen,”

Remy corrected him. Aria’s head snapped up, her eyes round in shock. “Dutch men have been asking after a woman matching Sabina’s description. Your lover is the missing shipping heiress,”

Remy finished grimly.

Sabina was heir to the controlling stake of Van Dellen Shipping, one of the largest and most successful shipping companies in the world. The Dutch East India Trading Company have been trying to buy Van Dellen for years because Van Dellen was their largest competitor. Any person who had control of Sabina could ask for more than twice the price of the Van Dellen Shipping company from the East India Trading Company.

They were going to hurt her. No, they wouldn’t hurt her until she signed over controlling shares of Van Dellen Shipping to Elmo Van Dellen. Of course he knew the other man. They had met recently as Roland took over Percival Shipping.

“I don’t care. We need to get her back. Aria,”

Roland said. He would have to break a promise to his sister. “I can never make amends for my mistakes. I have to go. They have Sabina.”

“You lout,”

Aria said calmly. “I know you’re not abandoning me for a lark. Go. Save your fiancée, but for God’s sake, change your clothes first.”

“They sailed from the Docklands. Damn it, they could be anywhere in England,”

Tristan protested. Roland briefly considered blackening Tristan’s eye for letting Sabina out of his sight, but it would have been pointless. He focused on the more pressing issue.

“They’re not in England,”

Roland said grimly, remembering the faces he recognized from the other ship.

Those bastards had a running start but he had the faster ship. He was coming for her.

****

Sabina had forgotten how much she loved being at sea, which made her predicament all the worse. She had woken with a pounding headache in a cabin of the ship. The door had been locked, naturally. The door had only opened long enough for a tray to be roughly set on a table near the door, one that was bolted to the ground and meant for bags to be set upon.

Sabina had not eaten. She was not seasick, that was never an ill she suffered from. She could not stomach food not knowing her fate, or Roland’s. The porthole only showed her the vast sea, and more sea.

Sooner than she expected, they neared land. She had not slept again after waking and had been sitting at the porthole, watching the sky turn from black to a kaleidoscope of colors when she saw land. She had also forgotten how very beautiful sunrises at sea were. It was tragic that she was seeing all this beauty amid her own kidnapping.

The uncertainty frightened her more than her kidnappers. They could not let her live. Her father’s will clearly stated that her shares of the company would not default to the board until she was proven dead.

The only certainty Sabina had was that they were no longer in London and certainly not in Amsterdam. They had not sailed long but she knew they had not doubled down along the coastline. It might be France, for she heard French.

The shoreline in the early light bewildered her. Round towers and jagged rocks littered the cliffs and beaches, surely too dangerous for them to dock. They sailed to a small harbor with a single dock. After they anchored, Sabina was dragged out of her cabin and they had again flung a burlap sack over her head. She had been thrown into a carriage and driven down strange, cobblestone streets.

And when she finally entered a house of unfamiliar build, she was placed in a room with a guard. A tray was brought, which Sabina completely ignored. The sight of bean soup and dense bread with a wilted leaf atop did nothing to tempt her, not when her mind was in a million places.

Sabina offered a prayer for the girls, and for Roland. She silently thanked all the men who had fought Hendriks’ men on her behalf. Her gratitude was all she could give.

Finally, she heard footsteps. Sabina did not rise. No respect would be deferred to her captor. The footsteps stopped outside the door. She had already checked, there was nothing she could use as a weapon. She wanted this to be done with, to face the bogeyman of all her nightmares.

The door opened to reveal a familiar face, one she hated above all others for the fourteen years of torment he had inflicted on her. He stood in the doorway, looking at her with outsized relief.

Elmo Van Dellen, her uncle, and the man who had murdered her parents. The man who had chased her for well-night ten years to kill her and take control of the family fortune. He looked so much like her father, it hurt her so to see.

“My child. How I have missed you. The trials you must have faced. All is well now. You are with me and I will never let you go again.”

Elmo smiled, tears in his eyes.