“Don’t jump,” Cade called to Danielle. “You can’t swim.”
Baptiste swiveled around, a look of equal parts confusion and horror on his face. “Quelle?”
Danielle glared at the Frenchman. “The night I stole your map you said to me, ‘I want to see the face of themanwho would steal my secrets.’ Do you remember? Well, here is the face of thewomanwho did it. Take a good look.”
Danielle turned her gaze to Cade. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. Then she vaulted from the window.
“No!” Cade shouted. “Danielle, I love you!”
A splash was his only answer as Baptiste went racing for the window.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Baptiste fired a shot out the porthole at Danielle before Grim and Rafe tackled him. They knocked him onto the floor and wrested the pistol away from him. Cade leaped over the fray to try to jump out the window after Danielle. It was no use. He was too large to fit through. He was only able to get his head and one shoulder out, enough to look down and see a shadowy spot growing in the water. It was too dark to tell for certain, but cold nausea gripped him. No doubt it was blood. He clenched his fist and pounded it against the side of the hull, screaming her name. But there was no sign of Danielle.
“No!” he cried in anguish as he turned and ran back through the captain’s cabin, up the ladder, and across the quarterdeck toward the aft where Danielle had jumped. He was vaguely aware of Rafe behind him calling him to stop, but Cade was mindless. He ran past Baptiste’s crew who were sword-fighting Danny and Sean and the other men from his crew. Cade ripped off his leather vest, tossed it to the deck, and vaulted off the side of the ship and into the harbor. He landed with a splash, cutting his knee on a waterlogged piece of debris. An unholy pain ripped through his right leg but he didn’t stop. He sprang to the surface, gasped for air, and turned frantically in all directions. “Danielle!” he cried. “Danielle! Where are you?” It was too dark to see much. He lifted his hand from the water. Blood covered it. It was not his own. “Danielle!” he called again, but silence was his only answer.
***
Two hours later, Cade lay in his grand bed back onThe Elenorwith a broken leg. Sean had set the break by forcing Cade to down a half bottle of whiskey and stuffing a rag in his mouth. The leg was still broken, Cade was not foxed, and the whiskey bottle sat on the table between him and Rafe.
“How does it feel?” Rafe asked, nodding toward Cade’s leg as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his thighs. He was sitting in a chair next to Cade’s bed.
“Hurts like Hades,” Cade muttered.
Rafe scrubbed the back of his arm across his forehead. “You shouldn’t have jumped overboard.”
Cade crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother. “Don’teversay that to me again. Now, please tell me Baptiste is dead. Or at least beaten within an inch of his godforsaken life.”
Rafe shook his head. “After Danielle jumped and we overpowered Baptiste, Grim took him to the hold while I chased after you. Baptiste was caught so off guard learning he’d let the Black Fox slip through his fingers, he didn’t put up much of a fight. The rest of your crew subdued Baptiste’s men.”
Cade groaned and leaned his head back on the pillow. “So, he’s not dead.”
“No. But along with the English turncoats aboardThe French Secret,he will be coming back with us to England to answer to justice. Grimaldi’s packed them all off to his ship.”
Cade’s fist gripped the covers. He nearly ripped them. Danielle was gone. They hadn’t even found her body.
“Don’t worry, Cade,” Rafe continued. “Baptiste will be tried for Danielle’s murder as well. He won’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of his life.”
“It won’t bring her back,” Cade whispered in a rough voice. He struggled to keep his face straight. His leg hurt like bloody hell but his heart hurt worse and his leg would heal someday. He deserved this. The one time he’d actually fallen in love with a woman and she was ripped away from him. He could admit it now that she was gone. He loved her.
“I’m damned sorry.” Rafe hung his head and studied his boots.
“You shouldn’t be. You risked your life,” Cade replied, his mouth dry. “For mine.”
“Of course I did. You’re my brother.”
Was it Cade’s imagination or had Rafe’s voice gone up a bit on that last word? As if it had been difficult to say. Rafe cleared his throat. “You would have done the same for me.”
“I’m no hero,” Cade ground out. He should have downed the entire bottle of whiskey. Unlike the pain in his leg, this pain was too much.
“You could have fooled me,” Rafe replied.
Cade narrowed his eyes on his brother, questioning.
“Grimaldi told me,” Rafe said. “You’ve been working with him since you learned I was captured in France.”
Cade nearly growled. “He had no right to tell you that, but it’s not because—”
