Free Sapphire Dream by Pamela Montgomerie Page B

pirate.
    She hadn’t been barefoot long when Rourke tensed and motioned her toward the cliffs. “Riders.”
    Brenna turned to see a tiny cloud of dust on the horizon behind them. Together, they ran for the cliff side, edging their way far enough down the rocky slope that they wouldn’t be seen.
    As the vibration of galloping horses’ hooves drew closer, Rourke gripped her shoulder. They huddled in tense silence as the horses pounded past, swirling dust into the air. She longed to take a peek, but the pirate’s firm hand held her still, his touch at once protective and restraining.
    As the pounding receded, he released her and took a look. Brenna eased up beside him to peer over the ledge at the retreating backs of a band of mounted bluecoats heading north, away from Stour. Nearly two dozen of them, best she could tell.
    When the riders were well past, Rourke helped her back onto the level ground and they continued in silence. Several hours later, they rounded a sharp bend in the coast to come upon a harbor encircled by a small town.
    “Dunhaven,” the pirate murmured, then came to a hard stop, his body going rigid. “ Bloody hell. ”
    Brenna followed his gaze to the three ships sitting at anchor in the harbor. One looked disturbingly familiar.
    “That’s not your ship, is it?” It better not be, she thought. Because instead of ragged-clothed pirates, blue-coated soldiers scurried across the decks like ants.
    “Aye.” The word was little more than a sharp exhale. “It’s the Lady Marie .”
    Brenna grimaced with dismay. Where was Hegarty? “I’m guessing that’s not a welcoming committee.”
    “Nay, ’tis not,” he replied stonily. “The bloody Earl of Slains has seized my ship.”

FIVE
     

    A dog barked in the distance, a discordant sound against the rhythmic lapping of the sea at the harbor’s edge. A woman’s laughter tinkled on the evening breeze, floating from an open window high above, in sharp counterpoint to a rough argument escaping from another window, closer by. With the sun setting on this long, long day, the people of Dunhaven were retiring to the comfort and welcome of their homes.
    Would that he had such a home to go back to.
    Rourke silently ground his teeth as he stood in the shadowed alley watching the last of the fishermen trudge toward supper and bed. He had come so close. So close . The Goodhope Plantation was all but his. Or it had been. It might be still, if his gold had not been confiscated along with his ship.
    Anger blazed through him anew. His ship. His life. Stolen. Thanks to a green-eyed sea witch.
    The rich smell of roast duck slipped through the town’s less savory scents, making his stomach rumble, reminding him he’d eaten naught since last eve’s supper.
    He glanced at the witch resting at his feet, her arms wrapped tight around her updrawn legs, her cheek against her knees. He felt a stab of grim satisfaction at the certainty that she, too, was miserable with hunger. It was her fault. All of it.
    As she dozed, he’d watched, fists clenched at his sides, as the earl’s soldiers stripped the Lady Marie of the last of her cargo, the last of her supplies, right down to her sails. His ship was stolen. He had no means with which to take her back. His crew was lost to the winds for all he knew.
    He could buy other clothes, other weapons. He could sail another man’s ship, captain another man’s crew. But without his gold, the Goodhope Plantation was lost. His last hope for the future gone.
    All he could do was pray they’d not found his life’s savings hidden beneath the floor of his cabin. And when the harbor was asleep for the night, he would find out.
    The woman murmured in her sleep, drawing his attention. Bitterness simmered deep in his gut. He’d known from the start she would be his undoing. He had sensed the danger she posed to his peace of mind the moment he’d seen her. But even he could not have guessed the havoc she would wreak in a mere two days.