A Lady at Last by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

THE LAST POSSIBLE moment, he’d leaped onto his finest Thoroughbred and galloped every mile to Spanishtown. Now Cliff scanned the crowd that had gathered beneath the hot midday sun in the square between King’s House and the courthouse. Beautifully garbed ladies with white parasols and well-dressed gentlemen with walking sticks ambled about the hanging block beneath the shade of towering palm trees, chatting casually while they waited for the festivities to begin. Roughly dressed sailors sipped grog and pinched their whores; a few sailors were dancing with their trollops to the heady island tune a Negro fiddler was playing. A group of young boys were throwing stones at the scaffolding as if it were a bull’s eye target. They were laughing and becoming vicious. He turned away, scanning the other side of the square. A regiment of soldiers stood at attention outside of the courthouse, and more soldiers patrolled the perimeter of the park, in case the prisoner decided to escape. His heart beat hard, fueled by adrenaline. Where was she?
    In a matter of minutes, Carre would be escorted from the prison to his fate. Cliff was certain La Sauvage was present.
    He hadn’t slept a wink all night, obsessed by the fate of her father and her part in the terrible drama. He suspected she would not resign herself to being a spectator that day, but what could she possibly think to do? He knew one thing: he was not going to let her throw her own life away after her father’s. If she thought to attempt to save Carre’s life, he intended to stop her before the soldiers did.
    Suddenly he felt eyes upon his back. He turned, glancing west at King’s House. On the upper floor, a huge window was open. Woods stood there, staring at the scene below.
    Cliff turned away grimly. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the boys slam a rock at the base of the hanging block, his laughter cruel. And he thought he heard a soft choked sound—a feminine sob.
    His gaze slammed to the legs of the scaffolding. He saw a small, curled-up ball of rags and a mass of moon-colored hair. Furious, Cliff strode through the crowd, rudely pushing past several gentlemen. The crowd parted, the revelers realizing he was determined and enraged. The boys stopped throwing rocks at her as he approached, becoming silent, turning pale. He caught one of the ruffians by his shirt and flung him aside. “You will answer to me before this day is done,” he said.
    The boy whispered, ashen, “She’s just the pirate’s daughter.”
    Cliff whacked him on the shoulder, hard enough to send him flying. The other boys fled; this culprit crawled through the crowd, coward that he was, then found his land legs and ran away, as well.
    He turned, kneeling. “Miss Carre?”
    She was wedged beneath the deck where her father would stand in the noose, behind one of the deck’s thick wood legs, her knees to her chest, her eyes unnaturally bright and wide, as if with fever. She appeared very small and frightened, a tiny creature hiding from the dangerous world. His heart melted.
    â€œCome out.” He spoke in a soft whisper, hoping to reassure her, and extended his hand.
    She shook her head. A tear fell.
    God, maybe it was better that she stay there, beneath the block, because if she did, she would not be able to see her father hang. But on the other hand, he wanted to get her far away from the square and the hanging, because he was afraid that if he did not, at the last moment she would come out of hiding and view a sight no woman should ever have to endure. “Please, come out. I will take you far away from this,” he tried, his tone now cajoling.
    She stared, unblinking. Another tear fell.
    His heart broke. “There is nothing to be gained by remaining here. Let me take you away.” An idea occurred to him. “I’ll take you to my ship. I have a cruise to make to St. Kitt, and the day is perfect for it.”
    Her