Page 70 of The Heart of an Earl

“No—no, you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong, you idiot child. That blackguard always wanted the box, Jules. It was never about you.” His face turned red—what looked like the blazes of Hades curling about his brow. “Fool girl—why would anyone want you? It was about the box. It was always about the box. No one else knew where it was. You and him. That was it. And then he took it for his own.”

“No.” Her head shook, tears filling her eyes as her body began to crumple upon itself. “No, it cannot be.”

Her muscles turned to mush, air leaving her lungs as though she’d just been punched. She slid down off her horse, her hand slipping off the reins as her boots sank into the melting snow. All of her bones failing her, she dropped downward, crumpling into a heap on the frozen forest floor. White ground dotted with crinkled, dead leaves that wouldn’t stay still, that tilted and spun around her.

“Disgusting.” Her father jerked his horse away from the tree, then yanked up on the reins, spinning his animal back to her, its hooves near to crushing her. “If it’s any solace, you’ll be content to know the knave is dead. I lied. He never came to the house. I had him killed after the first time he was here. Dumped into the river. He’s been dead, rotting for a good long while. The bastard betrayed you, and now he’s dead. So good riddance. I told you what he was—I saw it directly, Julianna, and you wouldn’t listen. Your fool stubbornness is your own cross to bear.”

Her look lifted to her father, trying to find him through her tears as she weeded through his onslaught of words. Her voice cracked. “He’s dead? Des is dead?”

His lip curled. “You are welcome.”

A gasp wrenched from her chest, sticking in her throat, choking her.

A snort of disgust and her father turned his horse. “Find your own way home, you ungrateful child.”

{ Chapter 20 }

Waters west of Portugal

June 1824

Des stared at Robert Lipinstein, his crewmate for the last year and now his captain. The man stood alone on the forecastle deck of theFirehawk, his forearms on the railing, his hands clasped, his head bowed, the half moon offering streaks of light as wispy clouds passed in front of it.

There wasn’t a man on this ship he respected more.

For all the blood still weeping from wounds on the deck below them, they were alive. Enough of them were still alive and Roe was the reason.

Captain Roe, now.

Des climbed the ladder to the forecastle deck and strolled over to him, settling his forearms on the railing next to Roe, his eyes on the water glittering under the moonlight.

“The men, have any else died?”

“No.” Des looked down, his left forefinger playing atop his mangled knuckle. “Most look to hold. I do not know on Wes. The cutlass that he took when he stepped in front of me to block it went deep into his side. An organ was sliced, or so Murray said—I couldn’t look at it close enough.”

Roe’s brows lifted. “The blood?”

“Aye. Too much of it. It’s why I’m up here.” Des sighed. “When it should be me down there instead of Wes.”

“Wes took a blade meant for you while Captain Folback took a blade that should have been meant for me. I don’t know that any of us can hold any dignity after a battle like that.”

Des shrugged. “No one knew where blades and shots were coming from, the smoke was that thick—I’ve never seen it thicker.” Des looked to Roe. “You couldn’t have prevented his death, Roe. None of us could have.”

Roe shook his head. “It was my responsibility. You were leading the men and I was to have the captain’s back. I didn’t.”

Des turned sideways, studying Roe’s profile. “I saw the brutes he had to get through on theMinervato get to Lord Bockton. That he made it that far was only by your uncanny skill with blades. You’re the dirtiest fighter I’ve ever seen—and also the most effective.”

“Then how did I not see that dagger coming at him?” Roe’s head dipped, his voice low.

Des paused, picking at his mangled knuckle before turning back to the sea and resting his forearms on the railing. Roe was never going to forget or forgive this. Neither was Des. “Captain Folback was going to go down with his wife, one way or another—he knew it the moment he swung across to theMinerva. The sea was his world, but she was his love. Once she was dead, he meant to go down with her as well.”

“Damn love.” Roe’s words rumbled rough into the night sky.

Des nodded. Damn love, indeed.

Roe’s head turned to Des, his grey eyes still flickering rage from the day. “How are the men that are still able to stand?”

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