Beloved Captive by Kathleen Y'Barbo Page A

the spyglass to his eye. “What in the world?” the older man muttered.
    “I’ll have a look.” Caleb lifted the glass to his eye. It appeared the vessel was indeed executing a turn that would bring it directly into their path. “Sink them,” Caleb said through clenched jaw.  
    “To the guns,” the captain called. “Let’s show that tub what the men of the Cormorant are made of.”
    Caleb handed the captain the spyglass and turned to leave. The older man’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
    “Might I suggest, sir,” the captain began, “that you not make yourself as easily seen this time around?” He held his hands out to silence Caleb’s protest. “Meaning no disrespect, but it appears that you may be what the Hawk’s Remedy is after.”
    “All the more reason not to back down.” Caleb shook his head. “I’ve fought at their sides on two occasions now. To leave these men to battle alone would be unforgivable.”
    The captain’s gaze shifted away. “I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d let my men do what they do best without having to see to the safety of the Benning heir.”
    Frustration pounded in every pump of the blood at his temples. Since when had he become some sort of coddled heir to the throne?
    “Indeed I see your point,” he finally said when he could trust his voice to speak, “but I am as much Benning as Spencer. What would my grandfather have done?”
    A smile spread across the captain’s wrinkled face. “He would have told me to busy myself with the running of this vessel while he fought alongside his men.”
    Caleb couldn’t help grinning as he snatched up his pistol. “My grandfather’s sentiments are mine as well.”

Chapter 11

    Emilie wiped her tears with the corner of her skirt, then settled the torn fabric around her knees. Outside, chaos reigned, but with every fire of the cannons, she gave thanks.
    He had not touched her.
    Not in the way he’d promised. Not yet, at least.
    Indeed, whatever battle raged overhead, it was a welcome interruption in the vile plans Thomas Hawkins had for the evening. Still, when the cannons boomed, the whole ship shuddered.
    Emilie moved to the edge of the bunk and slid down until her bare feet touched the floor. Her skirts were much lighter now that the animal had torn away the ones bearing her father’s gold. Where he put them, she couldn’t say, for she’d closed her eyes and prayed as he laughed.
    If only she’d done as Reverend Carter suggested and returned with him. Or, failing that, accepted her father’s offer of allowing Nate to accompany her.
    But no, her headstrong manner had been her downfall. A lesson learned.
    “Still, you’ve got yourself into quite a fix this time,” she whispered, her voice thin and brittle even in the tiny room. “What happened to that woman who was brave enough to teach a slave to read?” She tested her sea legs and found them still worthy, although a bit shaky. “And what of the woman who single-handedly set in motion a plan to wrest a slave from her life of servitude?” The question emboldened her, as did its answer. “I’m still the same woman,” she said, her voice stronger. “And I shall escape this.”
    Emilie squared her shoulders and held her head high. Indeed, she would escape this.
    By the light of the small lamp, she adjusted her still-damp clothing, then fashioned her tangled hair into a makeshift braid. The room held little in the way of hiding places, yet she opened every possible chest and looked under everything else to see if her gold might be found.
    “Lord,” she whispered as she sank into the lone chair in the cabin, “without that money, the children of Fairweather Key won’t have their school. Please don’t let that happen.”
    The door flew open, and Emilie shot out of the chair. Her heart racing, she whirled around to see that the man at the door was not Thomas Hawkins.
    “I’m to fetch you,” the red-haired fellow said. “And you’ll need to be