He allowed himself to be prodded on deck, where the growing darkness was lit with gunfire. He could just see the island disappearing off the port side—so much for his plans to jump ship before he was caught.
The bow was deserted except for the shadowy figures of two men. Spencer approached warily and received another sword prick in the back to hurry him up.
Rodney Shaw—dark-haired and still amazingly well dressed—stepped forward and smiled. “Lord Thornton, how good of you to deliver yourself into our hands,” he said softly in English.
Spencer answered in Spanish. “You didn’t cover your treachery well, Shaw. Did you not think we would discover your secret?”
“There is no longer a ‘we,’ Lord Thornton. Every other spy is dead.”
Spencer kept his rage contained. “I don’t understand why you would do this. Surely you knew that your loyalty would have been well rewarded by the crown.”
Shaw only shrugged. “Now I can be well rewarded no matter which side wins. And imagine how grateful the queen will be when I hand her the name of the traitor—Spencer Thornton. I’ll tell her what a shame it was that I had to kill him before he could kill me. And then of course, when the Spanish invade with my help, I shall be a hero to them as well.”
Spencer’s arms were suddenly gripped from behind. Before he could do more than briefly struggle, he felt a blow to his stomach, then to his face. Pain shot through him, and he tried to pull away. Shaw and another of his henchmen took turns pummeling him, and Spencer knew they intended to beat him to death. He deliberately sagged in their arms, and when one of the henchmen leaned over him, Spencer plucked the man’s sword away and rolled to his feet.
Shaw’s own sword suddenly glittered in the moonlight, and he laughed. Swaying, Spencer blinked his eyes as his vision blurred, but he fought to hold his hand steady. When their swords arced overhead and rang together, he felt the rippling shock of it clear down to his chest. He desperately fought on, wondering which blow would be his last.
His breath came in labored gasps, and sweat dripped into his eyes. When he stumbled to one side, he felt Shaw’s sword pierce between his ribs. Even if he managed to defeat Shaw, the Spaniards were just waiting to take Shaw’s place.
With one last blow, Spencer knocked Shaw a step backward, then grabbed the rail and vaulted overboard. For only a moment, the wind whistled past his ears. He landed in a crumpled heap in his boat, feeling a shattering pain in his leg where it slammed into the wooden seat. Somehow, he managed to pull the knife from his boot and cut the ropes holding the boat against the Spanish galleon.
Dazed and nauseated with pain, he rowed out of reach of the ship’s guns, watching the fleet veer away from the treachery of the island.
“I’ll find you, Thornton!” echoed across the water, and a bullet whistled past his head.
Once out of range, Spencer tried to staunch the blood flow at his side using his shirt. Then he rowed northwest, to where the chalk cliffs of the island rose out of the sea to guide him through the darkness.
~oOo~
On dark nights, on the low cliffs overlooking the English Channel, Roselyn Grant could almost forget that the English and Spanish fleets were resting at anchor, waiting for dawn to renew their battle. Tonight, the moonlight wouldn’t allow that, illuminating the masts rocking out on the waves. Occasionally the flash of a lantern winked at her, and she could hear a sailor’s shout, sounding eerily close.
Many of the island’s people had fled to the mainland, leaving the villages half deserted. But she had rebuilt her life here, and she would stay until the Spanish invaded, if necessary.
She had no other place to go.
The wind off the channel was as chilly as the rest of the cool, wet summer had been. Roselyn tugged the kerchief closer about her shoulders and closed her eyes, breathing deeply of the salt air. Her usual nighttime peace eluded her.
When she opened her eyes, she stared in shock at a small boat silhouetted in the moonlight, rocking wildly in the breakers close to the beach. For a moment she thought they were being invaded, but the solitary boat looked empty as it was tossed ashore and overturned.
She told herself to run away, but the impetuous Roselyn of old suddenly appeared, as if the last two years hadn’t happened. She found herself descending the path to the beach, skidding on gravel, grabbing clumps of weeds to steady herself. Her curiosity had awakened from its long dormancy and could no longer be appeased. After all, it might be a perfectly good boat.
She walked unevenly down the sloping sand, stepping over broken spars and split casks, remnants of the sea battles. She slowed as she reached the boat, which was resting against a boulder, but it was empty. Then she heard a low, ragged moan. Roselyn froze, taking a deep breath before peering cautiously around the far side of the boat.
For a moment she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, that it was only the gulls she’d disturbed. In the roar of the waves she could imagine anything.
But she heard the sound again, and this time a dark shadow moved. It was a man sprawled facedown across the wet sand, his lower body buffeted by the surf. Roselyn cautiously crept forward as he moaned more softly, as if his strength were ebbing with the tide.
She crouched down beside the man’s body, gathered her courage, and tugged on his shoulder to roll him over. His arms splayed out to his sides; his head lolled. Above a ragged beard, his face looked distorted, misshapen, and she saw the darker shadow of welling blood below his eye.
With a groan, the man shuddered, and Roselyn scrambled away from him.
“Help…me.”
He sounded like an Englishman, not a Spaniard. Relief flooded through her, and she sagged to her knees at his side. “I’ll go for help. I promise I will not be long.”
Before she could stand, he reached a trembling hand toward her. “No! Please…”
He gripped her fingers with a strength that surprised her. His skin was wet and frigidly cold as he seemed to will her with dark eyes to heed him. She felt caught, trapped in his gaze as the moist wind swirled around them.
