Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(85)

Anne cried. It didn’t make sense. Upon his father’s death,

William would become a duke. Surely he had more to offer

a baron than a merchant?

William did not respond, but Anne managed to escape,

lifting her skirts and flying back the way she’d come. William tackled her from behind, and Anne fell forward, her head narrowly missing the edge of the balcony stairs.

If she didn’t get away, he might kill her. She searched the

ground, looking for something, anything, to throw that would capture Teach’s attention, but there was nothing at hand.

The watch in her pocket.

Anne kicked out, her foot connecting with William’s face.

He fell back, his hands clutching his nose as blood spurted





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everywhere, like a fountain. Jumping to her feet, Anne reached into her pocket and grabbed the watch.

Taking aim, she threw with all of her might. Both she and

William remained motionless as the watch sailed through the

air. It pierced the window in the library, shattering the smooth surface and breaking the reflection of the moon into a thousand shards.





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C H A P T E R 3 0

Teach

Glass rained down from the window, and a familiar gold object

landed on the carpet near Teach’s feet. It was Anne’s pocket

watch. Alarmed, he scooped it up and looked out, to where he

saw a flash of ivory in the gloom. Two figures battled outside, and an overpowering rage swept through Teach as he realized it was Anne. And William.

“What the devil?” Drummond snapped

Throwing open the French doors, Teach nearly pulled them

off their hinges. The cold air rushed in, as well as the sounds of Anne’s struggle. Teach flew across the balcony, his arms out-stretched as he reached for William’s throat.

He would kill him for this.

Teach’s blood roared in his ears, and he tackled William to

the ground in a confusion of limbs and cloth, his fists pum—

meling his former friend with coiled strength. William could





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only lie there, trying to protect himself as best he could.

“Edward, stop this at once!” His father’s hands gripped

Teach around his shoulders, attempting to pull him back, but

Teach was not prepared to stop. After one particularly hard hit, William caught his breath in a gasp of agony.

Only Anne’s voice was able to break through the haze,

piercing Teach’s rage as she cried out to him.

Slowly, like a man waking from a dream, Teach fell back, his

chest heaving, finally aware of a number of people surrounding them. William lay curled in a ball, openly sobbing, his clothes bloodied and soiled.

“Get her out of here,” Drummond said. “I’ll deal with this.”

Teach scooped Anne into his arms and carried her away

from prying eyes. The rips in Anne’s dress along with the grass stains painted a condemning picture.

He set her down once they were out of sight, his eyes and

hands running over her, trying to assess how much damage had

been done. She trembled uncontrollably, clearly in shock.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Teach asked.

Anne shook her head. “No, no,” she whispered, her voice

quivering. “I was trying to get to you—”

It was all Teach could do not to return to beat the remaining life out of William. If Teach ever saw William again, he

swore to himself he would finish the job.

But not now. Right now Anne needed him.

Teach gathered her close, pressing his lips against her hair,





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desperate to convince her that she was safe. “Let’s get you home,” he said, taking off his longcoat and placing it around her shoulders.

As they neared the front of the house, Teach was careful to

shield Anne from curious looks. He hailed his driver and then

climbed into the carriage beside her, shutting the door soundly behind him. Once inside, he brought her close, running his

hands up and down her arms in an effort to stop her shivering.

The carriage pulled away.

“I have to tell you—” Anne began, but Teach silenced her.

“Shhh, no, don’t,” he said, unable to bear it. If William had

indeed harmed her . . .

“No, it has n-nothing to do with me. He . . . he did not

hurt me.” Teach snorted, but Anne remained firm, even as her

teeth chattered from shock. “He might have, if . . . if you hadn’t come. He was frightened I would tell you about them.”

“About whom?” Teach asked.

“William and Patience. William is the one who accused you

of piracy. And Patience is pregnant with his child.”

Teach froze, his hands resting on Anne’s arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, concern for him evident on her face.

Teach stared at her. “You’re sorry? Why would you be

sorry?” he asked, incredulous.

Anne swallowed. “Because William is your friend. And

because I was the one who had to tell you. I overheard them