hint of a smile around that hard mouth. ‘You are welcome aboard Raven, Mrs Kate Medhurst.’
‘Raven,’ she said softly. Of course.
‘The name of the ship.’
The name that, had she seen it, would have made all the difference in the world.
‘They said there was no name upon your ship,’ she said.
‘La Voile was not meant to see it.’
‘It was a trap,’ she said slowly, her blood chilling at the extent of his cold calculation.
North smiled. ‘The name would have tipped him off.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I am sure it would have.’ And knew it for the certainty it was. ‘Why take just La Voile and not Coyote and the rest of her crew? Why leave behind the greater part of the prize?’
‘I am not interested in prizes. My commission is for La Voile and only La Voile.’
‘I did not realise he was so important to the British. Surely compared to Jean Lafitte, he is just small fry?’
‘He is a big enough burr and one with the potential of becoming a rallying anti-British figurehead, much more so than Lafitte. Admiralty wish to cut off the head and leave the body in place to tell the tale, leaderless and ineffective. Which suits me. One man is easier dealt with than an entire crew and ship,’ he said.
‘So it seems.’ But things were not always as they seemed.
Her gaze held his for a moment longer, looking danger in the eye and seeing its ruthless, dark, infallible strength. She swallowed.
The tiny moment seemed to stretch.
‘Reverend Dr Gunner will escort you below to a cabin where you may rest. If you will excuse me, for now.’
She shrugged off his coat and gladly returned it.
A bow of his head and he was gone, moving across the deck to speak to his men.
Kate felt the tension that held her body taut relax, letting out the breath she had not known she was holding.
‘Mrs Medhurst...ma’am.’ The priest moved forward to her side.
One last glance of hope and longing out across the ocean to where Coyote and safety had diminished to little more than a toy ship upon the horizon.
The priest saw the direction of her glance and misconstrued it. ‘You really are safe with us.’
‘So Captain North reassures me.’ But if North were to realise the truth of who she was, of what she was... Captain Le Voile, as she always thought of herself. Such a subtle difference from La Voile, but one that was important to her. Le Voile or La Voile, it made no odds when it came to North. Either way she was the pirate captain of Coyote whom he sought.
You really are safe with us.
Kate gave a smile of irony. For what place could be more dangerous than aboard Raven with the deadly British pirate hunter who had been sent to capture her?
It was a sobering thought. She forced it from her mind and, with a nod, followed Reverend Dr Gunner below deck.
‘I put her in my cabin. I’ll sleep on the deck with the men—naturally.’ Within Kit’s day cabin Gunner was lounging in a small wooden chair. The priest pulled a silver hip flask of brandy from his pocket, unstopped it and offered it to Kit as a formality. They both knew that Kit would refuse.
‘There’s a cot in the corner—you are welcome to sleep there.’ Kit was seated in his own chair behind the plain mahogany desk.
‘Are you suggesting I could not manage a hammock?’ Gunner downed a swig of brandy.
‘A man does not forget such things,’ said Kit and thought of the past years and all it had entailed for them both.
‘He certainly does not.’ Gunner grinned. ‘They will bury us in those damned hammocks.’
Kit smiled. ‘No doubt.’ He moved to the large rectangular window, looking out over the sea. ‘How is our guest?’
‘Resting. She has a remarkable resilience. Most women would be suffering the vapours at the mere suggestion of the ordeal she has endured. But maybe the shock of it has not hit home yet. Delayed emotional response following trauma—we have both seen it.’ Gunner came to stand by his side and met his gaze meaningfully. They both remembered the horrors of the year in that Eastern hellhole.
‘Has she any signs of physical hurt?’
‘None that I could see. I did explain I was a physician and enquired whether she had need of any assistance, but she declined, saying she was well enough.’
‘A lone woman amongst a crew of pirates... How well can she be?’ said Kit.
Gunner’s mouth twisted with distaste. ‘I am rather glad that you killed La Voile.’
‘I am not. They would have taken his life just the same in London.’ And Kit would have welcomed the extra money that would have paid.
‘Always the money,’ said Gunner with a smile.
‘Always the money,’ agreed Kit, and thought of what this one final job would allow him to do. All the waiting and planning and working, and counting every coin until the target was in sight, and the time was almost nigh. He pushed the thought away, for now. ‘I will have the day cot set up for you and space cleared for your possessions and clothes. If you will excuse me, I have got work to do.’
‘And always work,’ said Gunner.
‘No rest for the wicked.’ There was a truth in that glib phrase that few realised, Kit thought wryly. No rest indeed. Not ever. ‘La Voile is dead, the job is done. We go back to England and claim our bounty.’
‘And Mrs Medhurst? We cannot touch port in America. We’d be running the gauntlet with the flotilla of French privateers and pirates patrolling their coast. Even with all Raven’s advantages, she cannot match such numbers.’
Kit smiled. ‘We will drop the woman at Antigua when we victual. Fort Berkeley there will organise her return home.’
‘A good plan. But it has been so long since we were in the presence of a respectable woman, one cannot help speculate how her presence would have lifted the journey home. It would certainly have kept the men on their best behaviour.’
‘You are too long from home, my friend,’ said Kit drily.
Gunner gave a smile. ‘Perhaps.’ He was still smiling as he left the cabin, closing the door behind him.
Kit returned to his desk and the navigational charts that lay there. But before he focused his attention on studying their
