Blackbeard's Sword: The Continuing Adventures of Captain Lady Rackham: Lady Rackham, #2

Prologue

THE EERIE NOISES OF the jungle surrounded the two runners as they hurried breathlessly through the tangling vines and whispering ferns, and between the smooth, towering trees. A thousand invisible creatures chirped, hummed and cried all around them. The moonlight filtered between the thick leaves, but Shea MacCaulay had long since realized that Alydia Rackham, his twin sister, somehow knew where she was going.

Are you incapable of moving more quietly? Alydia hissed back at him.

We’ve been running all day, Shea pointed out, swiping sweat off his forehead.

I realize that, Alydia muttered. Trust me.

That morning, only a few minutes after they had taken leave of the crews of the Lady Triumph and the Fathom Deep—which included their friends Gwendolyn Montgomery, Tom Donnel, and John Young—they had begun to run.

All morning long, they had picked their quick way through the snarl, Alydia always casting glances behind her. Now, darkness had descended, and Shea thought she might call a halt to their mad, mysterious race—for the heat and humidity had not eased—but she kept on.

Alydia—

Sssh! she snapped, and froze.

Shea instantly went still. He could tell by the silhouette of her knife-like body that she was listening.

I’m not certain this is safe, she whispered.

Safe? What’s— Shea didn’t finish. Alydia tugged on him and they pushed through a large fern—

To find themselves on a small, moonlit beach. Shea watched Alydia as she let go of him and surveyed their surroundings. Her long, ebony hair hung in disarray, and her tricorn hat sat crooked. Her man’s clothes were disheveled. Her silver earring caught the moonlight, as did the rings on her hand as she fingered the pistol at her belt. Her black eyes burned the edges of the shadows around them.

Stepping onto the sand, Shea joined her. The small waves softly rushed back and forth against the white shore, and starlight glittered against the sea. Not far away stood a small, wooden building and a dock that stretched out into the water. A small junk was tied up at the dock. No lights shone within the building.

Odd, Alydia mused. Saker always leaves a lamp out...

Shea’s brow furrowed as he gazed at the horizon. A dark shape drifted out by the edge of the land...

Avast, he whispered.

So, it is indeed Lady Rackham.

Shea whirled around to the ominous clicking of a dozen muskets cocking. He stared at the several red-and-white-clad soldiers, long guns and bayonets pointed at his and Alydia’s chests.

Several other soldiers stood behind, holding torches, which flooded the beach with red light. The soldiers shifted, their booted feet shuffling through the sand, driving the pair back against the sea. The next moment, a tall, hard-looking young commodore with blond hair and grey eyes that glinted in the dim light stepped forward, and smiled.

Hello, Alydia.

James, Alydia gave him a roguish grin. I’ve missed you.

Is that why you took such pains to attract my attention? he asked. The battle the other day...Quite spectacular.

She tilted her head and winked at him.

Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

The commodore’s smile faded—and a sudden coldness entered his gaze.

Shea’s stomach lurched. But before he could move—

He felt Alydia’s fingers clasp his upper arm in an iron grip, and the cold nozzle of her pistol press up beneath his jaw.

Before you do anything stupid, James, Alydia warned. You should know that I won’t hesitate to make a mess of this one.

Ah. The Commodore canted his head. So, our informant was right on two accounts. You do have an hostage with you.

Shea’s heart pounded in his ears.

Aye, I do, she replied. Quite valuable.

Who is he? the commodore nodded to Shea, but never took his eyes from Alydia.

Alydia grinned.

The only child of Lord George Montgomery, the owner of the merchant company Sailing Silk.

Shea tried not to jolt.

The commodore turned to his captain, and they exchanged a look. The commodore, unhurried, sighed and raised his eyebrows.

What are your conditions, Captain Rackham?

Shea saw Alydia’s jaw tighten, and she lowered her head as she eyed the other man.

I will be tried in England, before my king.

Hm, the commodore stood back a little, glanced at the ground, then looked up and cleared his throat. Indeed. I think I can afford you that, at least. The commodore leveled his gaze at her. You have my word. Now drop your weapon.

Alydia glanced up at Shea.

I’ve told you that you have my word, the commodore snapped. Now drop the weapon.

Shea met Alydia’s eyes for just an instant.

The next second, the pistol hit the sand.

Chapter One

LADY GWENDOLYN MONTGOMERY stood upon an ancient, thick stone wall, gazing out over the rolling, emerald hills of her estate, outside Portsmouth. The morning mist still slept within the gentle valleys between the hedges. The light blue clouds brushed against the distant sea as the sun cut through them, sending dancing patterns over the fields. A low breeze played through Gwen’s light-brown hair, and rustled the skirts of her pearl-colored dress. She took a deep breath of the sweet, April wind and smiled. She loved being back in England, amongst familiar shires and folk. It was also so much cooler here than in the Caribbean, and the sun against the sea never glared.

She turned to look back at her towering manor, with its pale walls, many windows and inviting gardens. She sighed.

On the other hand, sometimes she could not bear being here without her father. Sometimes, walking through the empty halls of the house, she would forget herself for a moment and almost call out for him...

And then the words would catch in her throat, tears would spring to her eyes and she would hurry outside, into the wind and onto the moor, to try and escape it all.

A call issued from over a nearby hill and she faced the sound, then smiled again. A young man with wheat-colored hair, a warm, intelligent face and sparkling eyes like the sea, laughed as he trotted up the hill astride his new grey mare. The young man wore gentleman’s clothes now—a lovely blue coat, silver waistcoat, black trousers and riding boots. Not the rags of a sailor.

G’mornin’, Gwen! he cried as he approached. Tom Donnel leaped off the animal and strode up to her, grinning. You look like th’ sunshine itself.

So do you, Gwen answered, trying to shake off her melancholy—but not succeeding. He reached up his hand to her, and she took it, and he helped her down off the wall. He stood much taller than she, and easily caught her. As her feet touched the ground, tears stung her again, and she did not let go of him, but leaned in and put her head on his chest.

Oh! he cried, quickly wrapping her up in his arms. What’s wrong?

Nothing you have not heard already, Gwen muttered. Then, she looked up at him and managed to smile at his intent expression, as the wind blew through his gold hair. But you always manage to help me.

I’m glad, he murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His green eyes searched hers. Gwen felt a pang in her gut, and ducked her head away.

Did you...Did you have an errand? she asked, backing away from him and folding her arms. Or are you just out enjoying the fine morning?

He smiled lopsidedly at her.

Both, he replied. I couldn’t resist the morning, and I came to ‘elp ye reorganize your library, as I promised.

Ah, yes, Gwen smiled genuinely this time. Thank you.

My pleasure, he tipped his hat, and winked at her—and she laughed.

Shall we? she asked, and together they headed back up the hill toward the house, Tom’s new horse in tow.

THERE’S A STORM COMIN,’ Mr. Donnel, Luellen said as she entered the plush cozy drawing room where Gwen and Tom sat in armchairs by the fire. I wouldn’t ‘ave ye ridin’ as far away as yer ‘ouse. Not tonight.

Tom, bathed in the soft glow of firelight—for it had already grown dark outside—stood up and moved to the window, pushing aside the red velvet curtain.

Dark clouds bearin’ down on us. And the wind ‘as picked up, he noted, and squinted at the sky.

Well, then Luellen is right, Gwen said, standing up and crossing the room to look out the window also. She studied the blackened sky, and the hills that had turned a deep green. The wind whipped through the hedges and the ivy, and howled around the house.

Lightning flashed in the distance, and the next moment, thunder rumbled, shaking the walls of the house. Gwen’s brow furrowed.

You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms, Tom, she said quietly. You and I both know what comes from an unfavorable sky.

GWEN JERKED AWAKE.

Bang, bang, bang!

Disoriented, she gasped and sat up, her heart pounding.

The cabin door has blown open in the storm and the water from the deck is going to spill down here—

Then, she caught sight of the familiar outlines of her windows in her room.

Home. She was at home. Not on a ship.

Groaning, she fumbled for a candle.

Someone at the door, she mumbled, lighting a match. The flame only illuminated a small portion of her room, but it was enough that she could slide out of her four-poster bed onto the thick rug, shuffle to the massive wardrobe, open its squeaking door and tug out a thick house coat. After wrapping it around her, she picked up her candle, opened the door and hurried out into the corridor.

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

It grew louder, as if someone meant to break down the door. Almost fully awake, Gwen trotted down the darkened hall, trying not to extinguish her light. She raced down the steps, one hand on the cold railing, and found Luellen, also in a house coat, and Jonathan, Gwen’s father’s old butler, already standing in the entryway. Both of them held candles also.

We did not want to let anyone in, Madam, without your consent, Jonathan spoke up.

It’s all right, thank you, Gwen panted, reached out, unlocked and opened the door.

Wind and rain instantly gusted in to strike her, and blew out her candle.

Upon the threshold, his arm still raised to continue hammering, stood a slight figure, completely drenched. Behind him, the storm roared and pummeled the fields, and out in the gale waited a small public coach. Startled, Gwen leaned forward to try to glimpse the stranger’s features. He wore expensive clothing all the way down to his buckled shoes. A gentleman, at first glance, wearing a beautiful—if soaked—scarlet overcoat, white shirt, black waistcoat and trousers and plumed hat.

But when a sudden flash of lightning illuminated his features, Gwen

saw a handsome, tanned young face she recognized, framed by long ginger hair, dripping with rain.

Her heart jolted.

Gwendolyn! the young man gasped, letting his arm fall down to his side.

Shea! she cried, the name tearing through her. She snatched his collar and dragged him inside, dropped her candle on the stones and threw her arms around him. He soaked her nightgown, but she hardly noticed.

Gwendolyn, he whispered again, suddenly shaking with exhaustion.

Shea? she exclaimed, backing up and taking his wet, cold face in her hands. What on earth are you doing here in this storm? What is wrong?

She’s to hang, Shea choked. They’ve captured my sister and she’s to hang.

SHEA, GWEN AND TOM sat by the drawing room fire, the latter two still in their nightclothes and dressing gowns. Luellen had hastened Shea into the kitchen—for he was about the size of her eldest son—and she had dressed him in much simpler and drier clothes. Now, he sat directly before the fire, a thick blanket wrapped around him, staring into the flames. Tom sat beside Gwen on the couch, on the edge of the seat. Gwen swallowed, clasping her hands tightly together.

Captain Rackham...is your sister?

Yes, he nodded. My twin sister, as a matter of fact.

Why...Why did you never tell me you had a sister? Gwen asked.

Shea didn’t look at her.

How could I? he whispered. I would have had to tell you that I’d changed my name, and left her behind in Ireland...All to escape the truth.

Which is? Tom pressed. Shea shot him a look.

My parents were pirates. My father’s name was Calico Jack Rackham. And my sister refused to change her name. He turned back to the fire. I had no hope of any sort of life if I carried that legacy with me.

Yet you stayed behind with her, in the Caribbean, Gwen pointed out, her face getting hot.

I did, Shea admitted. I wanted to explore that region of the world, and I wanted to be with her. But I had no idea this would happen.

Outside, the thunder rolled.

Not a day after you set sail on the Lady Triumph, along with the Fathom Deep, Shea began. I followed Alydia. We ran through the jungle all day and part of the night, and she wouldn’t tell me where we were going...or who might be following us. Shea shifted, pulling the blanket tighter around him. In the middle of the night, we came to a small bay. I learned later that she expected an old friend of hers to be there, but... Shea swallowed, and went on. All of a sudden, we were surrounded by a company of soldiers, and a commodore and his captain. They pushed us back against the water. The commodore told Alydia that she was bound to hang. And she grabbed me, and stuck her pistol against my throat.

What? Gwen gasped. Shea looked at her, and nodded.

"She told the commodore that I was the only child of Lord George Montgomery, the hostage