Ohr got to his feet and stepped wide of Artie, in case the butler thought to throw any more punches when he stood up. Glancing back at Gabrielle, he said, “We need to talk privately.” He looked too serious by half and sounded it, too.
He didn’t wait for her to question him further. He took her arm and started toward the front door with her, but Artie leapt in front of it to block their path.
“Don’teventhink about it, mate,” the butler warned. “Ye ain’t takin’ ’er anywhere, or I’ll be callin’ the cap’n and ye’ll be wishing ye were dead.”
Ohr growled, “I’ve had about enough of you—”
But Gabrielle interrupted him with a gentle hand on his arm and told Artie, “It’s all right. He’s a very good friend of mine and one of my father’s most trusted men. I’ll be fine with him.”
Ohr didn’t wait for the butler’s permission. He led her out the front door to the coach he had waiting outside. She hadn’t expected to go farther than down the street, where they could talk, but she didn’t try to stop him.
“You’ve heard about the scandal already?” she guessed.
“What scandal?” he asked.
“Never mind, we can discuss it later.”
“Good, because we have some decisions to make. Pierre is holding your father for ransom, and the price he’s demanding is you.”
Chapter 20
GABRIELLE FELT NUMB DURING THE COACH RIDE.There’d been one too many shocks in the last couple days.
Ohr took her to the room he and Richard had rented near the docks. Bixley, a carrot-haired Irishman and Ohr’s best friend, was there, waiting with Richard. She hadn’t expected that, but then she should have. Someone had to have brought the news to them about her father.
Bixley loved to hunt for treasure and seriously believed in the old pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And since Nathan was fond of treasure hunting himself, Bixley felt he’d found the perfect home onThe Crusty Jewel.
Richard hugged her. He looked much more normal to her, wearing his pirate garb again, his loose white shirt barely buttoned down his chest.
He gazed at her closely and demanded of Ohr, “Why does she look like she’s in mourning already? What the devil did you tell her?”
Ohr took the other chair at the table where Bixley was sitting, nursing a mug of ale. “Only what Pierre is demanding,” he replied.
“Chérie,it’s not as bad as it sounds,” Richard assured her. “We are only guessing that it’s you Pierre really wants and that he’s just using the maps as an excuse.”
“Maps?” Gabrielle asked. “What are you talking about?”
Richard glanced at Ohr with a scowl. “So you really told her nothing? What did you talk about on the way here, the bloody weather?”
In his usual unruffled way, Ohr ignored Richard’s sharpness and said calmly, “I felt she should hear it firsthand from Bixley. Besides, I’m hoping my friend will remember something pertinent he might have missed in the first telling.”
“I didn’t forget anything,” Bixley mumbled. “It were a long voyage getting here. I had me time aplenty to commit it all to memory.”
“So tell me what happened, Bixley?” Gabrielle said.
“It were Latice, that bastid.”
Gabrielle frowned. “My father’s first mate?”
“Aye,” Bixley replied. “Sailed us right into Cap’n Pierre’s fort while yer pa was sleeping comfy in his cabin. We didn’t even have a chance to resist. Most of us woke up that night in chains.”
“Pierre has his own fort?” she asked.
“He’s gone rogue, Gabby,” Ohr took a moment to explain. “He found an old deserted fort and has apparently been refurbishing it for years now. And as soon as it was finished, he broke off from the alliance.”
“And this is where he’s holding my father?”
“Yes.”
