Wrecker's Cove by Gail Ranstrom

Chapter One

England Channel Coast, 1804

Sir Rhys Parker crouched behind a boulder, cursing under his breath as the heavy fog alternately obscured and revealed the scene on the rocky beach. Only a few faint lanterns pierced the darkness now no need for the brighter lanterns that had lured the ship into the waiting trap. For the first time since he'd been assigned to uncover the nest of wreckers as a clandestine agent by the Home Office a year ago, success was within his grasp. Shadowy figures moved with silent efficiency over the rocks, dragging bobbing cargo boxes, barrels and kegs from the water as they washed ashore. Other men carried the salvage to waiting drays, almost overburdened with goods. It would be dawn before the plunder could be transported to a secret cave or warehouse. And he would not be able to follow! He clenched his jaw to prevent a flow of expletives.
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Blast the luck and blast the godforsaken night! Somewhere hidden in the fog, timbers creaked as the gallant ship began to break up, taking on water from the holes ripped in her bilge by the treacherous rocks lured to her death by the false lights of the wreckers. A dull thump coupled with a moan cut short caused his stomach to cramp. A hapless seaman had just been clubbed to death out of sight. Wreckers! Land pirates who preyed off ships in distress, signaling them ashore, killing the survivors and claiming the cargo. Rhys's right hand tightened on his sword and his left on his pistol. He itched to be doing something besides crouching in the shadows in a hermit's disguise. Yes, he'd give damn near anything to stop these blackguards. But he hadn't counted on the woman, and she changed everything. He glanced in her direction again, measuring the moment he could make his way to her. She'd been perched on a rock at the far side of the cove, her wrists and ankles tied and a gag forced into her mouth. Rhys couldn't guess what they had planned for her but he suspected she wouldn't be as lucky as the sailors with a quick anonymous death.

He narrowed his eyes and gauged the distance between them as two men moved closer to his hiding place, bowing their heads together and keeping their conversation low. The voice of the man who appeared to be in charge, a small meaty man with whiskers, reached him first. "know 'ow much longer the fog will last. We'd better finish up 'ere." His companion, a man with a face weathered from squinting into the sun, rain and darkness, rubbed his chin. "'Ave we taken care of all the crew, Tom? 'Twould never do to leave witnesses." "Aye. Just the girl left to deal with," Tom muttered. "If we kills her, the villagers will be in an uproar. Won't be safe to come back 'ere." "I'm not givin' up the cove, Fred. Too profitable." "Leave 'er tied to the rock until the tide comes in? Make it look like a drowning?" "Wi' ropes around 'er when she washes up? You got half a brain in there?" Tom swatted his second in command's head. "No. And it don't seem right to hit 'er over the 'ead an' bury 'er wi' the others, either. She's not one of 'em. She's a villager. But she's got to die in a way she won't be found. Maybe she'll just disappear, eh? We could put out the whisper she was seen runnin' off wi' some nabob." "Can we play wi' 'er, Tom? Keep 'er a couple of days first?"
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Rhys glanced again to the delicate barefoot figure of the woman. How in God's name had she become entangled in this mess? He couldn't see her distinctly in the gloom and distance, but she couldn't be much more than five feet tall. Her dark unbound hair curled around her hips in the damp air and she appeared to be shrouded in a gauzelike nightgown and wrapper of white or pale blue. She didn't have a prayer of holding her own against these old sea dogs. "Aye, we'll take 'er wi' us so we can hide 'er body. When we're done wi' 'er, we'll bury 'er where she won't never be found." Fred rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I'll go tell the others we're going to 'ave some sport when we're done. That should hurry 'em up." Then Rhys would have to be faster, too. No time to waste in regrets, anger and second thoughts. No time to rue the life he'd been so near to reclaiming if not for the girl in the nightgown. No, it was back to the hermit's cottage for him until he had another opportunity to trap the wreckers. And what in heaven's name would he do with the girl? They knew she was a villager they'd be sure to look for her there. His muscles tensed as he waited for Fred to rejoin the others and Tom to go check the drays. If he kept low and close to the cliffs, he might have the barest chance of survival.

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When she'd tiptoed from her grandmother's house at midnight to investigate strange lights in the cove, Elizabeth Carlton never imagined that she'd be taken prisoner by a band of ruthless wreckers. If only she had gone back to bed! And if only she had done as her parents demanded. Then she'd never have been sent to her grandmother here in Icklesham-by-the-Sea. Please, Lord, if You deliver me from this fate, I promise to go back to Shrewsbury and marry stodgy Squire Samuels without another complaint! There was a cry in the muffled darkness, and bile rose in her throat. She nearly swooned when the swirling fog parted and she saw a wrecker club a half-drowned seaman to death. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Poor man. That, she knew, would be her fate. She tried to still her wildly beating heart and fight her onrushing panic. Only a cool head and calm determination would serve her now. She kept twisting her hands behind her, her wrists raw from the rough hemp that bound her, trying desperately to loosen the ropes. Her feet had grown numb from the cold seeping upward from the rock beneath. She wondered if she'd be able to take a single step if she managed to win free. Wisps of hair tangled around her, obscuring her vision and clinging to her form. And all she could do was stand on this infernal rock and wait for one of the murderous gang to come for her.
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A soft gust of wind cleared the fog for a moment, and Elizabeth saw the skeleton of the schooner lying on its side, dashed on the rocks. Clarion Call was lettered in gold on the bow. And then the fog rolled back again, thicker than before. Suddenly, a dark form appeared in front of her, swept her off the rock, draped her unceremoniously over a strong shoulder and carried her off at a run. She tried to scream but the gag muffled her voice and she could not kick with her ankles bound. Was this the end? Was she to be taken and murdered now that the wreckers had nearly finished their work? A deeply masculine whisper reached her as her midsection bounced against that shoulder. "Hush, miss, and stop your squirming before you get us both killed." Draped over his shoulder, all she could see was the rough fabric of his dark coat. Just as they reached the cliff path and her captor began to climb, shouted curses drifted upward. They knew she was gone! The boom of a shot rolled like thunder in the night and a ball whizzed past her shoulder. Chapter Two They were perilously exposed on the cliffs. Their only chance of escape was through the shrouding mist. Rhys swerved off the cliff path and raced along the beach.

Soon the woman would have to be unbound so she could run, or even his muscled legs would eventually buckle with her weight. He hiked her higher on his shoulder, knowing full well his hands were rough on her thinly clad body. The woman struggled for breath around the gag in her mouth and his shoulder in her stomach. But he wouldn't stop. He could hear the guttural curses and heavy boots of the wreckers, closer, closer. The fog swirled, cloaking them in a thick mantle of protection, its cool moisture welcome as perspiration slicked his skin and rage boiled his blood. One year he had spent on this assignment. One year of his life waiting and plotting, only for it all to be smashed like the surf on the cliffs. And not because of the wreckers, not by a flaw in his own plans, but because of this woman. She had ruined it all. Anger and frustration pound his boots into the sand, speeding his progress. Abruptly, he realized the voices behind had faded. He stopped, suddenly acutely aware of his aching shoulders and his heart hammering at his ribs. He dumped the woman onto the sand and ripped his knife from his belt. Her eyes widened, fixed on the blade glinting dully in the shrouded moonlight. With quick strokes, he slashed her ropes then pulled her up against his chest so tightly he could see his own reflection in her pupils.
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"Run." He gave her a push along the beach, but she turned, tore the gag from her mouth and ran toward the cliff. He swore, his rage turning to black and thundering fury as he ran for her. "Where do you think you're going?" "A cave," she gasped. "There's a cave." With a lunge, he grabbed her. "They'll know it, dammit, we'll be trapped!" The angry bellows of their pursuers lanced through the night, but she was confident as she wrenched herself from his grip. "No, they won't," she flung over her shoulder as she started back up the cliffs. There was no time to argue, so, teeth grinding, Rhys followed her as she darted between two boulders and wove to the left beneath an overhanging tree, its branches clawing their clothing. A shot reverberated in the darkness. Rhys pulled the woman down, then relaxed slightly as he realized that in the curling fog, their pursuers were shooting blind, a desperate attempt to retrieve their prize. Rhys clenched his fists. He wanted to turn around and properly attack those murderous blackguards! Instead, like a coward, he was running. His hand dropped to his pistol, caressing the cold metal barrel, the smooth wooden butt.
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But before he could act on his vengeful impulses, he felt the woman move away. Swivelling his gaze back toward her, he just glimpsed her passing behind a towering crag and disappearing into a slit in the cliff. He swore. Again.

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Chest heaving, cold air shredding her throat, Elizabeth broke into the cave. A blanket of darkness closed about her and with it, a degree of calm. What had possessed her to run barefoot through the dark to the cove? It was that spark of defiance that so often got her into trouble. But this time, it was not her father's finger waving in her face, but a pistol. A scraping sound reminded her of the glowering stranger. She considered running ahead and leaving him behind. But he had saved her. She reached backward for him. He clasped hold of her hand. "Where are we?" His voice was as deep as the roar of the muffled waves. A voice that demanded answers and got them. "Not far from safety," she breathed. "Come closer." His arm came about her waist, the warmth of his fingers burning through her nightgown.

His body was so close that she could smell the lanolin of his woollen coat, the musky leather of his boots, the aroma of male exertion. His fingers spread across her stomach. "Now where?" he said, his voice steady and loud in the silence of the cave. "Stay close," she replied, moving forward up the slope, deeper into the gloom. His thigh brushed hers as they negotiated the ascending passageways. She had found the cave on her second day in Icklesham-by-theSea. Her grandmother was a staunch believer in discipline and decorum, two elements of her life here that drove her to the brink of insanity. Fortunately, her grandmother was also a staunch believer in routine, and every afternoon she would pull her hand-crocheted wrap around her stiff and stooped shoulders and retire to her bedroom to rest. That was Elizabeth's chance to escape and explore. When she'd stumbled upon the cave, she'd instantly felt it was a place all her own, where she could meditate the unfairness of the world and how to rectify it. She came to this cave as a sanctuary to escape the rules that smothered her. The solitude never alarmed her; she craved it. But now she wasn't alone.

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"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked the hulking form behind her as she edged herself along the wall. "Sir Rhys Parker," he hissed just above her ear. "And who, pray, are you, other than the sensible person who goes for a stroll on cold, foggy nights into a pirates' attack?" Anger colored his words and she turned to see his face. But in the cave she might as well have been blind. All she could tell was what she sensed: a tall, broad mass that towered over her and pressed against her side. She started moving again, trying to get away from him and the chill that shot through her. She was alone with a large, well-armed stranger. Shrewsbury was looking better and better. She slowly became aware of dusky light ahead, indicating the surface was near. She grabbed hold of the familiar ledge and hauled herself upward, out of his grasp. A cold blast of night air crashed down upon her as she pulled herself up out of the cave onto the windswept cliff top and She froze, her breath stopped. She was not alone. Chapter Three She was not alone. She heard the rasp of boots on the slick shale. Her senses on full alert, Elizabeth froze.

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"There's someone here!" she whispered, quickly jumping back down into the cave. Only Rhys was right below her. Elizabeth slammed into his solar plexus, generating a surprised "Oomph!" But he had heard her warning and backed as close as possible away from the opening, requiring him to pull her close. With one large hand pressing Elizabeth's head to his chest, and the other at the narrow indentation of her waist, Rhys listened to the sounds from above. When he heard nothing, he whispered: "Did they see you?" His deep voice resonated against her ear. "I don't think so." "Did you see them?" "No. The fog As soon as I heard them, I ducked out of sight." "Ducked?" Elizabeth lifted her head at his humor-tinged tone. Even in the darkness, Rhys saw the flash of anger in her eyes. She started to retort, but Rhys held a finger in front of his lips. So she vented by shoving herself away from him and edged as silently as possible back down the passageway. When she thought she was far enough away to be heard, she whirled to face him. "If it weren't for me, Sir Parker " "If it weren't for you, Miss Carlton, I wouldn't be in this mess."
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Her jaw dropped. "How dare you!" "I dare, because if you'd stayed in your bed where a proper young lady should, I wouldn't have had to endanger myself and interrupt my important business to bloody rescue you!" "Proper young lady!" she snorted. "I can just imagine the type of woman worthy of your approbation, sir. Sweet. Docile. Quiet. Obedient." She threw the words at him like daggers. "Men like you " She looked him up and down in a gaze that was supposed to be reprobating but began to falter somewhere around his broad shoulders and died altogether as her eyes took in the muscular thighs in those form-fitting breeches. What had she been saying? She was angry at him, right. Regaining her train of thought, she planted her hands on hips and gave him a level look. "The packaging may be somewhat different, but you men are all alike. If I have to put up with one of you, it may as well be that whey-faced Squire Samuels! At least with him, I won't get yelled at for saving his worthless hide. I won't be expected to jump into a narrow black hole yet somehow detect and avoid the hulk below! His expectations are suitably low." Elizabeth had meant for the tirade to set him down. But, instead, her words fanned the flames of a fire banked for far too long. His eyes narrowed, and Rhys subjected Elizabeth to the same discerning appraisal she'd given him. A heart-shaped face flushed with emotion, glinting blue eyes, the fall of long dark
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hair. And most disconcerting, curves enhanced by her pugnacious stance, which had also tightened the dampened sheer fabric of her nightdress and wrapper against her body. "If you're looking for someone with low expectations of you, then you're right, I'm not he. But as for meeting my approval " He pulled her close, the softness of her unbound breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest. He lowered his head to touch his lips to hers. "Sweet," he pronounced, and kissed her again. "Quiet, for the moment." A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Now you kiss me." And without reason, she did, her heart pounding, her stomach roiling with the sensations created by his firm lips moving over hers. "Obedient," he declared. And kissed her once more, settling her more fully against him. "Even docile, because you certainly aren't struggling." He smiled with triumph. The smug look on his face brought Elizabeth out of her state of confusion she refused to say passion and she wrested herself away from his embrace. Her face was unreadable, but Rhys was beginning to understand that glint in her eye. But he wasn't about to let her ruin his good mood by launching into another tirade. "I believe enough time has passed," he said. "Shall we attempt our escape again?"

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Before she could respond, he hoisted himself up onto the clifftop. Hearing and seeing nothing, he reached down to assist the woman had she told him her name? up. They'd only gone a few yards when Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. "I hear them again! Quickly, back into the passageway!" But Rhys didn't move. Suddenly, they burst out of the mist, and Elizabeth was engulfed in the odor of wet wool. Elizabeth turned to flee, but Rhys caught her arm. "Sheep," he laughed. "We've been hiding from sheep." With a sniff, she said, "I find that infinitely preferable to the alternative." "Cows?" "Wreckers." With a low chuckle, Rhys tugged her forward. "Come on. It's time for this wretched night to end in front of a warm fire." The thought of lolling about in front of a roaring fire with Rhys brought a flush to her face, but she fell into step beside him. "We're almost there," he told her after they had walked awhile. Much to the delight of her inappropriately shod feet, lights appeared ahead of them. But Rhys halted. "Damn." "What is it?" Elizabeth kept an eye on the lights, whose proximity teased her with the promise of shelter and warmth.
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But instead of remaining stationary, the lights bobbed toward them. Over the wind, she heard voices she'd wanted to never hear again. "It must be the wreckers," Rhys said. "No, it's not! It's, it's" "Who, dammit?" "Squire Samuels!" she hissed and ran back into the fog. Chapter Four "Elizabeth Carlton!" Blast, Elizabeth groaned, stopping at Squire Samuel's shocked tone. He's seen me. Turning, she summoned her courage and dignity to face the man she had twice fled in as many days. "Squire Samuels. What a pleasant surprise," she said as lightly as she could, trying to ignore Rhys. Samuels's bulbous eyes shot from Rhys's rakish appearance to her own disarranged garb. "I can't say the same of you, Elizabeth, given your state of undress and your company." He gave a bitter laugh that from him sounded more like a hiccup. "You were very convincing as a wide-eyed virgin," he scoffed, raking her up and down with his eyes again. She waited for Rhys to say something, do something, but he remained motionless. Fine. Elizabeth didn't need his help. Hadn't she been the one who'd ultimately rescued them from the
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wreckers? She'd defend her own virtue. Docile and obedient? Let's see what he thought of this. "You have no business " Elizabeth began. "You're right, Elizabeth," Squire Samuels interrupted, "this isn't my business. Not any longer. The wedding is off. I cannothave some common whore as my wife." Elizabeth spluttered, unsure which outrageous statement to dispute first. She drew in a sharp breath and jammed her hands on her hips. "I called the wedding off two days ago. I could never marry a pasty, stiff, stodgy #133;" Unable to string a coherent thought together, Elizabeth gathered her rising anger and struck out with a right hook to Samuels's chin, sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap. She felt Rhys finally move, but instead of coming to her aid, he grabbed her from behind, his hand clamped around her mouth. What was he doing? She struggled until several men stepped out of the fog. The wreckers! "What do we 'ave 'ere?" She recognized Tom, the smelly pig who tied her up. He reeked of sheep, sweat and blood. With one hand on her hip and the other still covering her mouth, Rhys crushed her back into his chest. Air gushed from Elizabeth's lungs while his warmth soaked through her gown. A delicious shiver shot along her skin. She prepared herself for
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Rhys to spring into action and attack them. "I'm fixing the bloody mess your men have made," Rhys boomed. What did he just say? "Ya 'ave 'bout two seconds to 'splain yourself before I gut ya." Tom came closer, his knife drawn. "I think not." Rhys shoved her aside then lunged forward. Moonlight sliced through the fog and glinted off the dagger he thrust into Tom's chest. Elizabeth did her best to stifle the scream traveling up her throat as the wrecker's startled eyes turned lifeless and he fell to the ground. "C'pn Morgan ain't gonna like that," one of the wreckers stated as they aimed their guns at his chest. Casually, Rhys bent, yanked out the knife, and then wiped the blade on Tom's coat before standing. "Oh? Does he have a particular liking for Tom?" They gave each other confused looks. "Well, Tom's the only one that's seen 'im," said one, scratching his head with his pistol. "How did ya know that 'e was Tom?" wondered another. "I'm Morgan, you fools!" Rhys growled.

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He's Morgan? That bastard! He'd duped her wait. He must be fooling them "Now, if you don't want to end up like your boss," Rhys threatened, flourishing his knife as it disappeared into his hermit's disguise, "then I suggest you lead me to the ship that'll get us and our loot out of this dung hole of a town." They began to shuffle back toward the cove when one turned a beady eye on Elizabeth and the unconscious squire. "What 'bout 'em?" Elizabeth's heart stopped and she gazed desperately at Rhys. He only grinned with a dangerous glint that sent a completely different kind of shiver down her spine. "She's coming with me," Rhys proclaimed, grabbing her without warning and slinging her over his shoulder. "As for the good squire, leave him. He already thinks the lady and I have run off together." This was insane! If this was his idea of a game, she didn't like the rules, and she'd had enough of his manhandling. "Put me down!" "Not until I'm finished with you, woman!" Rhys' swatted her derriere and the wreckers snickered. For once in her life, Elizabeth had no idea what to say or do. So she went along with what had to be some complicated plan of Rhys's. Once again, her midriff rested on Rhys's solid shoulder as he followed the wreckers back to the beach, her backside
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grazing his cheek and ear every time he stepped into a rut which was often. The terrain leveled out and Elizabeth realized they'd hit the shore. "You can walk from here," Rhys drawled. Elizabeth slid down the hard length of his body. The sensation stole her breath and left a fire in her belly. Cold, wet sand met her feet, putting an end to her dazed state. Yanking down her gown, Elizabeth stepped back and sized up her situation: lecherous and murderous wreckers grouped around her, a dangerous and unknown man towering over her, a beached rowboat at the water's edge waiting to transport them to the ship she faintly saw on the horizon. She had a sudden thought since when had Rhys's plans worked out? Elizabeth ran. The sound of boots pounding the sand told her they gave chase. Elizabeth hiked up her gown and increased her pace. "Dammit, woman!" Rhys cursed as his hand gripped her shoulder. She screamed when he pushed her down and rolled with her into the sand. "Are you crazy?" he whispered.

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"I figured if I didn't gain my freedom, I'd at least make you look good, that it would help you deceive them. You are tricking them, right?" "Foolish," he murmured. But his eyes held an admiring gleam as they rose to their feet. But he hadn't answered her. Elizabeth hoped she was putting her life in the hands of Rhys and not this Captain Morgan. But when Rhys grabbed a fistful of her hair then brought his mouth down hard on hers, she wasn't so sure. And before she could respond or protest, he pushed her toward the approaching men. "See to it that the woman gets on the boat and into my cabin." Chapter Five The cabin's interior was more spacious than Elizabeth expected. But it seemed to grow smaller and smaller as she thought about her situation, and the nagging doubt that she had put her trust in a thieving murderer. Desperately, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind, clinging to the belief that this was all a ruse to catch the dastardly ship wreckers. But when Rhys Parker strode in and cast his eyes on her, her face betrayed her fear. He looked her up and down and grinned unsympathetically. "I have some clothes in the cabinet over there. They'd be a sight warmer than that wet nightgown." He gazed again at the outlines
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of her voluptuous body, all too plain through her thin and wet shift. "Not that I'm encouraging you to add clothing." "I will as soon as you leave," she shot defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere." He flashed another annoying grin at her, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall of the cabin. Elizabeth raised her chin. "Then you are no gentleman, Sir Parkeror whatever your name is." "Did I ever say I was a gentleman?" He was playing coy with her, but he motioned to the paneled screen in the corner of the room. "You can change over there and I will be no wiser about your intimate parts than I am now." Elizabeth felt the blood rush to her face as she glanced down at herself. She hadn't realized how wet or revealing her nightgown was. She tried to wrap her arms around herself, not sure that was really helping the matter, but she wasn't about to strut past him to the screen on the other side of the cabin! "I don't know why you are making such a play at false modestyyou are, after all, a compromised woman." "I beg your pardon. How so?" "You think that your fianc will not hesitate to tell the entire world that you arewhat was it he called youa common whore?"
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The words sliced into her gut like a knife, but the pain quickly turned to rage. If she was a whore than what did that make him? He'd been the one to kiss and molest her several times! "How dare you." She raised a fist to strike him. He easily caught her hand and pulled her forcibly against him. "His words, not mine, my dear." "I am not your dear," she hissed, the warmth and nearness of his body making her rage all the more palpable. "Let go of me!" "No," he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She was unable to escape his grasp as he placed the tiniest, most sensual kiss on her neck. She swallowed hard. "You are a blackguarda common thief! I hope you rot in" She didn't finish her sentence before his hard, unforgiving mouth came down on hers. His hands roamed her body, the heat of his caress mocking her sense of propriety. The world seemed to whirl and she grasped on to him to steady herself. "Please" she whispered, unsure of whether she wanted him to stop or keep going. But he froze, pushing her away almost roughly. She tottered shakily back to the bed. He took the blanket and wrapped her up. Then, after a search of the cabinets, he handed her a bottle of brandy.

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After the night she'd had she was beyond caring about the crudeness of drinking from the bottle and took a good swig. Feeling instantly bolder she asked, "So who are you?" He was torn by her pointed question. Should he trust her? Could he? This woman was having too much of an effect on him. Just look at what he'd done tonight because of her ruined his plan to arrest the wreckers, taken command of those same wreckers and killed a man. Not to mention that he couldn't seem to stop himself from grabbing her and kissing the breath out of her. So he took the coward's way out, for what seemed like the thousandth time this horrid night. "Who do you think I am?" he asked. "I am not sure what to think." He sighed. Somehow that hadn't been the answer he'd hoped for. "I didn't lie to youmy real name is Rhys Parker." "So you are not Captain Morganit was all a trick," she said with relief. "Oh no, I am Captain Morgan." Seeing the flash of anger come back into her eyes he said, "But you were right to trust me." "I don't understand." "What I am about to tell you must remain in the strictest confidence. I need your word of honor on all you hold dear." "You have it," she said without a hint of hesitation.
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"I have been working for His Majesty's government to uncover the ring of ship wreckers that has been plaguing these parts. My men and I killed Captain Morgan and his crew more than a year ago when I caught his band in an attempt to wreck the HMS Windsong. I took Morgan's identity, planning to catch the other pirates that continue to threaten the coast from the inside. "Morgan was like a commander among the wreckers; he had several crews under his command that he would instruct sometimes by himself, sometimes through an underling where to go and who to attack. It worked out well for me; I could give them orders without them seeing me, and risking someone knowing I wasn't Morgan. "Only, if I could do it, apparently so could someone else. I got a letter from the captain of the Roberta complaining his crew wasn't going to get a cut of the bounty from the upcoming attack on the Clarion Call. I was shocked that someone else had managed to commandeer one of Morgan's crews. I contacted the Home Office but all they could tell me was that the Clarion Call would be in this area around this time. So I layed low as a hermit and waited. Tonight, I had the chance to find out who was giving Tom orders, bring the final lot of blackguards to justice and return to my rightful life. Then you showed up." Elizabeth stayed silent for a while, absorbing, realizing what she'd ruined with her stupid wandering. "I know it's not much consolation, but you did stop one injustice my impending
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marriage to that mealy mouthed excuse of a man," she commented dejectedly. "So, Elizabeth, what am I going to do about you now?" "Do? You must take me home and I will deal with the consequences." The thought of going back to face her fate sent a cold shock through her heart. "Oh, I think it's a bit late for that," he said blithely. "First, I just told you very dangerous not to mention confidential information. Secondly, you are a compromised woman and I cannot leave you to the fate the Squire has in store for you." "So what's your fantastic plan?" she said with more acid than she'd intended. He ignored her tone. "Despite my earlier words and actions, I am, indeed, a gentleman and it is partially my doing that you are in this predicament." He came and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. "I took liberties with you that I should not have Elizabeth, I will do the right thing." "And what could you possibly do to restore my tarnished reputation?" "Tomorrow morning when we lay anchor, we will go ashore to the village and you will become my wife." Chapter Six

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His wife? Elizabeth gritted her teeth as she looked him up and down. Stealing a kiss was one thing, but bound for a lifetime was quite another. Although he was a fine figure of a man, he was an extremely aggravating one. Still, of her two choices Rhys Parker or Squire Samuels Rhys was far and away the best. He gave her a crooked grin, as if he could read her mind. "Life will not be dull with you as my wife, Elizabeth. I daresay your antics will keep me on my toes, but I shall do my best to keep you on your back." Oh! The gall! Heat burned her cheeks and if she hadn't been tangled in the blanket, she would have stomped out of the tiny cabin and jumped overboard. The sea was a kinder fate than either the squire or Rhys. "Youyouscoundrel!" "At the very least, my dear." He came to her and lifted her chin on the edge of his hand. Leaning down, his lips feather light against hers, he said, "We are quite a pair, you and I." She should turn away. She should bite that full lower lip of his. She should denounce him with her last breath. Oh, but how could she when her every nerve ending tingled with wanting him to deepen that kiss? An early wedding night? Who would know? Who would stop them? A thundering boom tore through the air, followed by a hiss and a splash. Terrified voices called to each other from the deck, and
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the clatter of boots outside the cabin door tore her from her passion induced haze. "Cap'n! Cap'n! We're bein' fired on!" "Who, damn it?" Rhys shouted. "A frigate off our starboard! Royal Navy!" "Steady on," Rhys commanded. "I'll be on deck in a minute." He turned back to her and gave her a quick kiss. "Stay put, Elizabeth. We shall get back to this presently." But, of course, she wouldn't stay put. The moment the door closed behind him, she fought her way free of the blanket, opened the sea chest at the foot of the bunk and threw the contents over her shoulder as she searched for something she could wear. She was not about to sit below while her fate was being decided above! She found a white shirt with full sleeves and a pair of dark trousers that only came down to her calves. No time for modesty, she thought as she fastened the breeches and tucked the shirt into the waistband. Another cannon shot rent the night as she scrambled up the stairway to the deck. A crack and the sound of splintering wood warned her to duck when she ran from the hatch. A broken spar fell within inches of Rhys.

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Around her, all hell was breaking loose. The cliffs looked as if they were on fire and a frigate was bearing down on them. Some of the wreckers were jumping overboard and others were waiting for Rhys to issue orders. "Run the white flag up!" he shouted. "We can't outrun them and we're sitting ducks here." She hurried to his side and pulled on his sleeve. "What has happened? Is the town on fire?" He shook his head. "It's the signal fire I laid to summon the navy and the army garrison in town when the wreckers came ashore. That is where I was going when I stopped to rescue you." "But if you didn't light it, who did?" "Precisely what I'd like to know, Elizabeth."

***

A warning shot was fired across their bow. The white flag had been seen and acknowledged. Finally something was going right. "Stay by my side, Elizabeth. Anything could happen now." "If we are surrendering to the Royal Navy, what could go wrong?"
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As if to answer her question, one of the wreckers shouted, "What next, Cap'n? Make ready to repel boarders? Load the cannon and fire when they come alongside?" Rhys groaned. "Drop anchor," he commanded. "We're not going anywhere with a damaged mast. We'll just have to take our medicine." "Not if it means dangling from a rope," the wrecker said. He turned to the crew and raised his cutlass. "Death to the cursed navy!" "That's what could go wrong," Rhys said under his breath as he raised his pistol and took careful aim at the wrecker's arm. He fired, hitting the man high in the shoulder, and the cutlass and the wrecker fell harmlessly to the deck. The others turned to Rhys in astonishment as he reloaded. "Now that I have your attention," he said, "drop your weapons. I want them all in a single pile on the deck." One by one, the wreckers came forward and dropped their weapons, giving Rhys wary and none too friendly looks as they went. Daggers, knives, cutlasses, swords and pistols mounted in an impressive heap. Elizabeth clung to him for support as the frigate bumped the side of their ship and sailors threw grappling hooks over the rails to draw the ships together.

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Fred, the wrecker who had been Tom's friend, stepped forward with a challenge. "Let's rush him, mates. There's only one o' him." Rhys drew the hammer back on his pistol and aimed dead center at Fred's forehead. "You'll be first, Fred." The man dropped his pistol on the pile and backed away. "Curse you and curse that meddlesome wench! I wish we'd never set sights on her." By now the navy seamen were swarming over the sides and the first officer saluted Rhys. "Sir, Colonel Harlan wants to see you ashore."

***

He and Elizabeth were lowered to a waiting dinghy and rowed to the beach. Rhys held her hand and tried to calm her trembling. How odd that she'd be more frightened now than when facing a band of thieves. "There's nothing to be frightened of, Elizabeth," he soothed. "The worst is over." "You haven't met grandmother."

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Rhys was still pondering her statement when he saluted Colonel Harlan. He winced when the man scowled. "Well, Parker, can you explain this mess?"

"Yes, sir. I found the wreckers pillaging the Clarion Call and murdering the crew. Just as I was about to go up the cliff to light the signal fire, I saw that they had taken a prisoner " "Miss Carlton?" "Yes, sir. How did you know?" A small gray-haired woman emerged from the darkness behind Colonel Harlan. "I told him, you young pup! Now what have you done with my little Lizzy?" Elizabeth peeked around his shoulder. "I'm here, grandmother. None the worse for wear." "What's that you've got on, missy? Doesn't look like a proper dress to me." "I, um, got wet, grandmother. Captain Parker was kind enough to loan me something dry." Mrs. Carlton narrowed her eyes in the gloom. "Did he now? And you were alone with him, were you?" Rhys smiled as he watched Elizabeth blush. She really was quite lovely, no matter what she was wearing, and he couldn't wait to see her in nothing.
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"Well, yes," she admitted. "But not very long. You see, Squire Samuels " "The squire is in custody, Miss Carlton," Colonel Harlan interrupted. "He was trying to make away with the spoils from theClarion Call." For once, Elizabeth was stunned into silence. "But how did you know to come?" Rhys asked. "Who lit the signal fire?" "Someone had to do it," Mrs. Carlton grumbled. "I knew what it was when I saw it on my walk last week. Then, tonight, when the squire came demanding to see Lizzy and she was gone, I went to the cliff and saw the ship breaking up and you carrying her away over your shoulder. The only way I could think to get help was to light that fire." Well, well. The Carlton women were a force to be reckoned with! "Thank you, Mrs. Carlton. It was the right thing to do." She nodded and drew her shawl closer around her thin shoulders. "And speaking of the right thing, Captain Parker, what are your intentions for my Lizzy?" "To marry her now that the squire is out of the way." He turned to Elizabeth for her reaction. She smiled up at him and nodded.

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The colonel cleared his throat. "Well done, Captain Parker. Your assignment is complete and I believe you are free to go home. We shall have your discharge papers within the week." Life was full of surprises, he thought as he slipped his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. She gave him a heart-stopping smile and he thought how ironic it was that what had seemed like a complication only hours ago had become his salvation and his future. He'd been right about one thing, at least. Life with Elizabeth would never be dull.

The End

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