Prize of My Heart

“Young lady,” said Captain Winsor, “is it your desire to remove with Captain Talvis to his ship?”


As she turned her soft gaze upon him, Brogan explained, “I don’t understand how an intelligent woman like yourself came to be separated from Drew and aboard this vessel against your wishes, but your family was of the absolute opinion that was indeed the case, and so I am come to escort you home.”

Her eyes spoke as loudly as her simple “Thank you.” Lorena turned and nodded enthusiastically to Captain Winsor. “I wish to remove to the Yankee Heart very much so, yes.”

“And you go of your own free will?”

“I do, Captain.”

“Then so be it. I bid you depart peacefully, Captain Talvis, so as to not frighten these good people nor disrupt my voyage any longer. I’ll suffer no fighting aboard my brig.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Brogan began to escort Lorena to the gangway, when George Louder’s bitter laugh rose above the assembly. “Yes, be the hero, Captain Talvis. Rescue this damsel you believe to be in distress. Take her, I say, and with my glad tidings. Her presence aboard has been most disagreeable. She’s been nothing but an annoyance, and I can’t recall why I ever allowed her along. But no matter, for I have already had my pleasure and now I throw my leavings back to you.”

In a swift move of unleashed fury, Brogan drew his sword and poised its lethal, polished edge beneath Louder’s chin. “You filthy weasel,” he spat. The insult on Lorena festered hotly within him, and Brogan burned with the injustice.

A collective gasp rose from the deck. Passengers and crew drew back. Brogan could feel the tension in their silence. He heard William’s steps behind him and knew the mate stood ready to defend his captain, just as Brogan sensed his crew aboard the Yankee Heart go on the alert.

“Here, here, now!” Captain Winsor opened his coat in warning of reaching for the pistol he had tucked into his leather belt.

Brogan raised a hand to stay them all, though he doubted whether he could stomach the sight of the weasel a moment longer without anger getting the better of him. “I should like nothing better than to make fish bait of you, Louder, but I promised Captain Winsor there’d be no violence. However, if I truly am the despicable character you accuse me of, it should take little to provoke me into breaking that promise. Perhaps I shall gut you right here. Then, rather than arriving in England, you be traveling straight to Davy Jones’s locker.”

Louder’s eyes burned with hate and rage, which never wavered from Brogan’s, as he stepped closer to Captain Winsor in a show of alliance . . . or perhaps, Brogan thought, he merely sought protection.

“I see you’ve no qualms about a public display of brute force, Captain. A chance for all to see the fruit of your life’s work,” Louder taunted, appealing to the crowd. “Terrorism at sea.”

Brogan’s anger swelled. Lorena curled her fingers around his forearm and gave it a squeeze, staying him. She lifted her face to his with calm assurance, lingering over his features in an expression of hero worship Brogan did not feel worthy of. She was beautiful to such a degree that he could not stand in her presence without awareness of that beauty stirring a reaction in him, but suddenly her loveliness took on a force that seemed to reach into his very soul.

“He hasn’t yet apologized,” he protested, eyeing Louder.

“What good purpose is an apology made at the point of a sword?” Lorena asked him.

She was expecting him to rise above his desire to strike the coward, and something inside him could not disappoint her. He placed some distance between them with a step backward and sheathed his sword. “I once promised Lorena I’d not strike you again, and it is only for her I step aside. But before we leave, have you anything to say to the lady, Louder?”

Brogan waited for an apology that didn’t come. “No? Very well then. Let us not delay your voyage any further, Captain Winsor.”

He turned from Louder’s cold stare to take Lorena’s elbow, but she pulled away and slapped the shipwright soundly across the face.

Brogan stood in awe.

“Best you do well for yourself in England, George, for you are no longer welcome in Duxboro,” she said. “You’re a cruel, selfish man.”

Turning her back on him, she addressed Brogan, saying, “Allow me to say good-bye to my friends and then we can be on our way. As you can imagine, I’m anxious to sail home on the Yankee Heart.”

Brogan watched her proudly as Lorena stepped into the embrace of an older woman with striking red hair. Louder watched also, his complexion paling to near white. He turned toward Brogan, and as they glared at each other, the weasel began to tremble with rage. No sooner did Brogan recognize the madness in those dark eyes than Louder whipped around and grabbed the pistol from Captain Winsor’s waistband.

He leveled it straight at Brogan’s chest.





12


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