Sheer determination keeping her moving, Fallon reached the skiff andhad nearly untied all theropes whena smug voice spoke up behind her.“Whot de we’ave’ere?”
She withdrew the pistol as she spun around, while the last of the pinsthat had been holding up hair fell away. The darktresses fell around her shouldersandhe grinned widelywhile practically ignoring the weapon she pointed steadily at the center of his chest.His bald head shone with perspiration and histanshirt was stained with blood and Godonlyknew what else.
“Stay back!” she warned.
“Or what,spy?”Heslowly withdrew a serrated knife with a curved blade andheldit up for her to see, his dark eyes hollow and filled with malice and bloodlust. “Ye know wha’ I do t’ filthyladyspies?”
He took one step toward her and she didn’t hesitate.
The crack of the bullet discharging surprised her nearly as much as the shockthat flooded the sailor’s face ashe took a step backward. He glanced down indisbelief at the bright redstain covering the front of his shirt.With a terrifying snarl, he lunged for her, but his outstretched arm fell to his side as he collapsed to his knees and then fell onto his stomach—where he moved no more.
Fallonscreamedandtossed the pistol aside. Shetold herself to flee, to toss the skiff over the side of the sinking ship and make her escape, but she couldn’t seem to look away from the man she had just shot and killed.Murdered.
The trembling began in her limbs and quickly spread throughout the rest of her body. She slid to the deck as her surroundings began to spin about her. The bodies of the dead blurred together and suddenly she was that scared childonce more.
So much loss. It was enough to choke her.
Half dazed, she lookedbeyondthe deck that had gone eerily still,other than a few light groans from men who were being carted away to thevictoriousship that was still standing proud and tall. She stared, transfixed, at the billowing, dark sails, and admiredhow magnificent it was.
Agust of wind blewaround her and Fallon blinked as the smoke from the fire cleared for abrief instant. But it waslong enough for her to glimpse the figure of a man in blackstanding on the top of the port railas he bellowed orders to his crew.She couldn’t seem to take her eyesoffhim, for something seemed vaguely familiar…
That was when he turned his head and looked directlyather.
A black mask covered the top half of his face, but it wasthat unyieldingjawline, clenched and menacing that causedthe blood to pound in her head. After fighting through the dizzinessfromearlier, it now swept over her with a vengeance. She was slippingdeeperinto the oblivionand as his long powerful stride brought him closer to her, she saw the Ravenwithdrawhisgleamingcutlassand draw it backfor a fatal blow—just asFallon allowed the darkness to consume her andshe slumped to the deck.
***
Atticuswasted no time inrunningthrough the sailor that had been about to deliver a punishing blow to thefigurein black. As he removed the blade from the villain’s midsection, he bent down toassess the boy’s injuries. He’dwitnessedoneyoung ladfallthis nightand he didn’t wish the same fate for another if he could help it.
However,the moment he moved thelong, darkhair away from that delicate,pale face, the blood instantly curdled in his stomach.It can’t be!He had stared atFallon’sface so many times in his dreams that he thought for sure he was starting to hallucinate.
He clenched his other fist at his side and closed his eyes on a long, slow breath before he glanced at her again.Butthis timethere was no denyingthoseadoringfeatures, even though Atticus might wish for anythingelse. The question that remained was what was she doinghere?
However, it was thesight of the blood tricklingfrom her templeand the dark shadows prevalent beneath her closed lidsthat concerned him the most.The rest could come later.Without any further hesitation,Atticus swiftly gathered her up in his arms and headed back for the gangplank connecting theCrimson Roseto the crippled enemy ship that would soon be at the bottom of the sea.
His strides were sureand steadyas he returned tothe Raven’sship. There, he found Sean in the process of tying up the last of theFlying Swan’s crewmen, but when he noticed thewomanin Atticus’s arms, he rushed overand demanded, “What the hell isshedoing here?”
“I’d like to know that myself,” Atticus murmured. “But I fear any answers will have to wait.She’s injured.Send Steven to my cabin.”
Coming out of his shock, he paled as he sawthe truth to his captain’s claim. The burly, red-haired first mate nodded and rushed off in search of theresident physician.
Atticus could tell the rest of his crew was curious about Fallon, but he ignored their curious stares as he headed below deck. He shut the door to his cabin and gently laid her downon his cot, then he began to make quick work of removing her sodden clothes. They looked vaguely familiar and he realized it was the same disguise she’d donned the first time she had met the Raven.
A lump formed in his throat as he peeled the itemsfromher body.He forced himself not to stare overlong at the curves of herformthathad haunted his every waking hourandconcentrated onthe task at hand.
Wrapping her up in the warm coverlet on hisbed, he held her in his lap and began tovigorously rub her limbs in anattempt to get as muchheat andblood flowintoher veins aspossible.He didn’t want to think what might happen should she catch a chill and fever were to set in. They were miles out at sea and while he trusted Steven implicitlyoverthe hospitals on landthat weren’t any better than some of the butcher shops he’d inhabited, ifshe developed an infection,her injuries could turn fatal.
After a brief knock,Stevenand Seanentered the room, the former carrying a black bag that held his supplies.Atticus reluctantly released his hold on Fallon as the doctorwalked over and beganassessingherinjuries.In turn, Atticus moved across the room to stand by Sean, although his focuswason Fallon.
“Whatwas shethinking?” the Irishman whisperedat his side.
Atticus finally removed the half mask covering his face andtossed it aside as he scrubbed a handdown his face. “I don’t know,” he said wearily, feeling as though he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes. He glanced at his first mate, hoping to find another outlet for this sudden restlessness. “Has everything been taken care of on theFlying Swan?”
“Aye,” Sean concurred. “We have the cargo in our hold and theprisoners aretied up andinthe brig.”
“Good.”Atticus leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.Ifnothing else could be said of this brutal attack, it was thatthe Raven had stopped a shipment of weapons from reaching the British army and further crippling the Irish cause.
But was it enough?Was iteverenough?And was it truly worth all the bloodshed?
