Twilight of a Queen by Susan Carroll Read Free Book Online Page B

mast. The
San Felipe
must possess at least one marksman or else someone had got off a lucky shot, coming close to putting a bullet through Father Bernard. The fool blinked, slow to comprehend his narrow escape.
    Xavier gave the priest a rough shove. “Damn it! Get below. Now.”
    The two ships were close enough for the grappling hooks to find purchase. The shouts, smoke, and chaos of battle intensified as Xavier drew his sword and led his men in a charge, scrambling over the side of the
San Felipe
.
    The Spanish crew was easily overwhelmed between their terror of Xavier’s reputation and the ferocity of his men. Even young Dominique gave a good account of himself. The boy held his own against a much larger opponent when the captain of the Spanish ship came up behind him. Before Xavier could roar out a warning, the captain discharged his weapon straight into the boy’s back. Dominique’s eyes flew wide, crimson blossoming on his white shirt as the boy crumpled to the deck.
    Bellowing with rage, Xavier cut down Dominique’s opponent and then rounded upon the Spanish captain. Their swords came together in a clatter and spark of steel. The Spaniard was a small dapper man, deft with his weapon, but Xavier beat him back with the sheer fury of his rage.
    The sounds of battle, the scent of blood, the Spanish accents triggered in Xavier hot flashes of memory. The smoking ruins of the French settlement, the charred remains of the bodies, men, women, and children. The chains chafing Xavier’s wrists raw. Arms aching from being bound to the bench of the galley, the stifling sense of being buried alive, the sting of the lash against his skin.
    He barely noticed the Spanish captain’s sword flying from his hand and sliding across the deck. The man’s bearded features were a blur as he sank to his knees. Xavier raised his sword to deliver the death blow, but was prevented by strong rough hands seizing his arm.
    Snarling, Xavier fought to shrug free of the grip. Pietro’s face swam before him, the Cimmarone’s cool accents penetrating the haze of his anger.
    “Captain! The ship is ours and that man has surrendered.”
    Blinking, Xavier saw the Spanish captain cowering at his feet, his trembling hand upraised in a gesture that was part protective, part plea. Xavier flushed, feeling suddenly sick and ashamed, but he saw nothing but understanding in Pietro’s dark eyes.
    Catching his breath, Xavier staggered to the deck rail until he managed to regain control.
    Gazing around, he saw the truth of Pietro’s words. The ship was indeed theirs. The Spanish crew had tossed down their weapons, their posture as abject as their captain’s.
    As Xavier regained his icy control, he took stock of his own men. He had lost but two. One was already dead and the life was swiftly ebbing from Dominique.
    That idiot priest had disobeyed Xavier’s orders and come over to the Spanish ship. Father Bernard knelt over Dominique, attempting to take the boy’s final confession and administer the last rites. But the boy had nothing to confess except those sins he had been led into by sailing with Xavier.
    Hunkering down, Xavier thrust the priest aside. Dominique clutched at Xavier’s hand, the boy’s pale face contorted with pain.
    “S-sorry about the flag, Captain.”
    “No matter, lad. We won. Your share of the cargo will make you a wealthy man.”
    “Gold? There—there was gold?”
    Xavier had no idea what was in the hold of the ship, but he nodded.
    Dominique tried to smile, ended up coughing blood. His grip on Xavier’s hand slackened, but he sought Xavier’s eyes with anxious desperation.
    “M-mother … sister.”
    The boy could scarce get out the words, but Xavier understood the reassurance Dominique sought. He pressed the boy’s hand.
    “You need not worry. I shall travel to St. Malo myself and see that they are looked after. I swear they shall not want for anything while I—”
    Xavier faltered, doubting that Dominique had heard his