The Pirate's Duty (Regent's Revenge #3)(2)
She nodded, chastising herself for forgetting that crucial rule. “Is there any hope I will ever be ready for him?”
Girard released a heavy sigh as he disengaged and whipped his weapon through the air. He sheathed it in the scabbard dangling from his belt. “In time.”
“I don’t have time.” She lowered her weapon, marveling at how much lighter the blade felt in her grip since she’d first started sparring with Girard and O’Malley six weeks before. “Another letter has come.”
“Another one?” O’Malley’s gaze cut to Girard. “Demon and scholar by all accounts, why am I surprised?”
“Why didn’t ye say so, lass?” Girard asked, ignoring O’Malley. “No wonder I caught ye unawares!”
“How long before I will not be taken unawares?” Her heart clenched.
Please say it won’t be long.
“That depends on ye.” A low growl erupted from Girard’s throat. “But don’t dismay. A man can practice ’is entire lifetime and still not be good enough to prevent ’is own death.”
“Aye.” O’Malley strode over to her, a piece of straw clenched between his teeth. “Seen it happen meself.”
“Ye’re not ’elpin’,” Girard complained. He turned back to Oriana. “No matter ’ow many times ’e threatens ye, focus on bein’ one step ahead of ’im. It’s the only way ye’ll remain so.”
“I know.” She sighed, grief for the man Charles could have been piercing her very soul as it always did. They were bonded by blood and by enduring their father’s cruelty. Their mother had died because of it, and their father and two older brothers were killed while committing their own atrocities. Without Charles, she was alone—sorrowfully alone—and only a family of her own would someday heal the fractures widening inside her heart. But she’d have to outlive Charles before she could ever allow anyone to love her.
“Let’s see the letter.” Girard reached out a hand and wiggled his fingers impatiently.
Oriana set down her weapon and nodded. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the missive, peeling back the red seal—an anchor supporting a T for Thorpe—and handed Girard the note.
He flipped it over and read the postscript. “Looks like this letter came by way of Whitsand Bay.”
“Damn sure he ain’t there no more,” O’Malley said. “Read it.”
Clearing his throat, Girard fought the wind to keep the parchment from tearing apart. Then he began to read aloud:
“Beloved sister,
“Hear me well. You defied me, severing the ties that bind us. Broke my trust, you did, and that is a betrayal I can never forgive. Be glad our father is not alive to witness your deceit.
“Prepare for a reckoning, Sister. The day is close at hand. You have something I want, and I aim to get it back. Do not think of using it against me. I have eyes and ears everywhere.
“Judgment is coming. Cold blows the wind.
“C.”
Girard refolded the note. “Why did ’e use that phrase at the end?”
She swallowed. “‘Cold Blows the Wind’ is the song Charles sang after he killed his lover.”
Girard exchanged a glance with O’Malley. “Killed ’is lover?”
She nodded. “Eliza had been aboard one of the ships our father wrecked, and she had been taken alive from the sinking vessel against Father’s command. He’d meant for all to perish.”
No witnesses was the Thorpes’ steadfast credo, and one Oriana had never abided.
“What happened to her?” O’Malley asked.
“Eventually Eliza escaped her captivity and fled to the magistrate,” she went on. “Unfortunately, the magistrate was in our father’s employ. He accused Charles of saving Eliza and endangering the family.”
O’Malley’s eyes narrowed. “What became of the woman?”
Oriana suppressed a shiver. “Our father demanded Charles’s loyalty. He made him drown her before our very eyes.”
Wind swept Oriana’s hair about her head as she cringed, wishing she could forget that horrible day ten years ago. Eliza’s pleading cries for help as a cold blade pressed against Oriana’s neck and her father, in his sinister governance, held her face, forcing her watch the gruesome scene. It was at that exact moment she had witnessed her adoring brother’s hellish destiny unfold as he chose his course.
Girard shook his head. “And ’e did it?”
“Aye,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Charles had followed their father’s orders, transforming into a devil she no longer recognized—the man now known across Cornwall as Captain Carnage.
O’Malley let out a whistle. “Cast out from hell, he is.”
“Aye.” She retrieved the note from Girard and put it in her pocket, holding back her despair as best she could. Charles would find her like a hound on the scent, just as he’d sworn to do. And when a Thorpe was angered, his determination would not be extinguished until the thirst for vengeance was quenched.
One
The RETURN of the Earl of M from SABBATICAL caused quite a stir amid news that our esteemed hero, CAPTAIN W, died off LOOE and TALLAND BAY when his ship, the WINDRAKER, sank. This not being a time for POMP and CIRCUMSTANCE, Lord M ASSUMED his late father’s title, Marquess of U, and RETURNED to his estate with a WIFE. Lady U is a CREDITABLE choice, a most beloved SISTER to that PREVENTATIVE WATERGUARD OFFICER who faced CAPTAIN CARNAGE and PAID the ultimate PRICE . . . his life.