Fire On The Water

**Start at Chapter One - "Fire On The Water" 
                                             
                                            Chapter Five

    Nathan met her rounded gaze. She realized he’d known about her mare and its background all along. Too many questions leapt from her eyes like flames from a wild fire. She was, indeed, upset with him for his intentional deceit.

    He looked back to Jonathan. "I’m glad I could help. Although Michael should get the credit, he arranged the sale. He’s made several purchases in Morocco, adding to his own stables." Chancing another glance at Vanessa, hating that she was upset with him, she continued to watch him carefully, now through narrowed eyes. Jonathan’s explanation seemed to calm her some.

    Jonathan pulled Vanessa closer and kissed her forehead. "Will you two excuse me? I need to talk with your father for a few minutes."

    Nathan nodded.

    Jonathan kissed Vanessa again and with an approving smile, she watched him walk away.

    In silence, Nathan observed the kiss she’d received, wishing it had been him kissing her. He drew in a deep, cleansing breath. He wanted to take her into his arms so badly, but she belonged to Jonathan now. The candlelight emphasized the brilliant mahogany highlights in Vanessa’s hair when she turned her head, enhancing the waves that cascaded over her shoulders. In an attempt to calm his inner emotions, Nathan gripped his glass tighter, wondering why he put himself through such torture. He should just tell her how much he loved and wanted her so this charade need not continue.

    She turned and met his gaze as her narrowed, fiery eyes searched his face. Clicking her tongue, she said, "You knew all the time, didn’t you?" Low and calm, her voice mixed with the whisper of the wind. "You questioned me, though you already knew the answers."

    Though her soft laughter touched his heart, frustration gnawed at him, nibbling at his pride. "Vanessa, I couldn’t possibly ruin Jonathan’s surprise betrothal gift to you and allow you to know that I was part of it. For that, I sincerely apologize. Are we still friends?" God, he hoped so. He held her gaze, waiting, hoping, for a reply.

    Reaching her hand toward his, Nathan in turn reached out to her. Gently, he grasped her soft, warm fingers, and she squeezed his. "Of course, how could I stay angry when you’ve helped with such a beautiful surprise? Thank you. I will always cherish Athena, and I wish you luck and a safe journey on your voyage tomorrow. We’ll miss you and Philip. Return safely to us."

                                                      * * * * *
    Nathan stood with Philip at the rail, aboard the Eagle’s Lair, feeling the cool fall weather settling in. Seagulls followed the ship out a few miles from shore, but were finally falling behind. As the men unfurled the sails, strong winds sent the vessel slicing through the sea-green water at a good pace beneath the blue sky and radiant sun. He hoped the voyage would go fast and the weather would continue to cooperate.

    The first few days of the voyage pleased Nathan; the crew worked well together. Faulkner, Nathan’s first mate, had done a fine job of hiring extra men; all had been at sea several times and were able-bodied swordsmen. The men enjoyed the sparring sessions that took place now and then, each keeping an eye out so no one became too aggressive. Nathan challenged Philip to keep their skills honed along with the men. The sound of clashing metal could be heard several times throughout each day.

    Two weeks into the voyage, while the rest of his crew slept, Nathan leaned against the port side railing with a bottle of rum, surrounded by darkness. Vivid images of Vanessa haunted him. He longed to be back in London where he could keep a watchful eye on her and the men who stalked her. Thoughts of her churned up turbulent emotions in his heart. She belonged to Jonathan, yet he still wanted to protect her.

    Vanessa’s forthcoming marriage to Jonathan, in a few months, nagged at him, though he knew Jonathan to be a more stable husband-figure for her. Tipping the bottle to his lips, he swallowed another swig of rum, hoping to wash away thoughts of another man’s woman but to no avail. Her vision haunted him day and night. Most everyone else had long since retired, and the lonely creaking of the ship echoed through the night. Nathan watched the stars, and listened as the gentle waves splashed against the ship’s bow and the slow snap of sails overhead. Cool night air caressed his face, blowing forward a few strands of hair that had come loose from his queue. He inhaled a deep cleansing breath of sea air, hoping to clear his mind.

    Dropping his chin to his chest, he closed his eyes. A picture of a slender temptress with long mahogany hair came to mind--Vanessa, training her mare--in those bloody riding breeches!

    A picture of carnal pleasure.

    He realized he’d been in love with her since he first saw her a year ago when he began working for her family in Ceylon.

    Then visions of Clarissa replaced Vanessa. Clarissa had been so special to him but Langley changed all that; he would pay one day. Nathan knew he’d murdered Clarissa and he’d find some way to prove it.

    Ghosts from his past still haunted his dreams.

    Angry, he swallowed another long drink, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He could have any woman he desired - in any port he visited. There was no shortage of women who wanted to be his for a night; some of whom he’d taken up on their offers. But none had satisfied him for long.

    Thinking he’d be better off turning in, Nathan staggered toward his cabin. A crewman noticed him and offered help, though Nathan refused, but he did give up what little was left of the rum. He stumbled through his cabin door, finding his bed, and soon fell into a sleep filled with dreams of chestnut-haired mermaids and sea nymphs.
                                             
                                                        * * * *

    Aboard the Eagle’s Lair the next day, Langley’s man, Turner, joined in the duties of the other men so as not to be noticed, but observed them. He knew Faulkner was Clairmont’s right-hand man. With him out of the way, getting to Clairmont would be easier. Turner’s job on board was to pick out the most alert men and do away with them. He’d picked out four men among the group who appeared to be longtime seamen for Clairmont; they would be his first targets when Langley boarded the vessel.

    So far, Turner had kept a low profile, not bringing attention to himself. As a silent observer, he watched them all, even the few men he’d befriended to fit in, all in the line of duty for his own captain.

    Shading his eyes from the morning sun, Faulkner stood at the helm, overseeing a quiet crew as they polished the forty carriage guns, making sure there would be no reason to bring them under their captain’s scrutiny. Appreciating the fact that Nathan’s foul moods were few and far between, the men stayed out of his way at those times.

    Faulkner reminisced on a past voyage some years ago when a spy had been discovered among the crew. They’d been forced to witness the flogging, which Nathan himself carried out. One didn’t dare cross him. Though he treated his crew fairly and with respect, he demanded respect in return, not have spies infiltrate his crew. Pride straightened Faulkner’s back to be among the men who would follow Nathan to hell if need be. Knowing captains like him were hard to come by, Faulkner considered himself lucky to be under Nathan’s command.

    Before mid-afternoon, Faulkner stood side by side with Nathan and Philip. "Looks like a ship closing in, but I can’t make out the ship’s flag, sir. I’ve been watching it and at its current speed, the vessel will be even with us before dark," Faulkner pointed out, handing Nathan the telescope.

    Nathan held up the looking glass to study the approaching vessel.
Philip rested his hand on his sword. "It could be a pirate ship and I refuse to hand our cargo over to those thieving bastards. Our men will be ready!"

    Nathan looked at him and nodded in agreement, then glanced at Faulkner who calmly waited for further orders. "Alert the men of possible trouble. Every swordsman is to be readied and the canons armed."

    "Yes, sir, right away." Faulkner went below deck where most of the men were eating and issued the orders. The crew jumped into action to protect their ship and its cargo. Visible tension mounted among the crew as the other ship drew closer. Faulkner’s sword hung on one side, a pistol tucked inside the waist of his pants on the other, and a small dagger lay hidden just inside his boot. Their ship would not be taken!

    Excited deck hands crowded along the rail, none heeding the chill in the air, only watching the other vessel approach. Turner glanced toward the horizon as Faulkner kept his eye on the three new men, then followed Turner’s gaze to watch the approaching ship. Dusk would soon be upon them, probably before the fighting started. None cared! Their fingers gripped their sword. Faulkner was glad Nathan had foreseen the possibility of night attacks and had trained them to fight in the dark.

    He couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling that ate at him all day and again Turner caught his attention. He was new, yet Faulkner sensed uneasiness about the man, and he always seemed to keep to the back of the group, his gaze darting back and forth to the other men while he toyed with the hilt of his sword. Then Faulkner met his narrowed gaze. The man looked strong and kept his hand on his sword, ready for the fight, but Faulkner would still keep his attention split between the new ship and Turner.

    Men dressed in black rallied at the rail of the approaching vessel. A few men stood along the side with grappling hooks to pull in the Eagle’s Lair when it came within range.

    Through the looking glass, Nathan observed one man in particular who stood perched above the other men onboard the other vessel. A patch covered one eye, a golden hoop-earring winked in the night as he stood above the crew toward the center of the deck. By his arrogant stance, Nathan assumed him to be their leader.

    Then he surveyed the length of the ship and painted along the side was the name - Black Maiden.

    Sails billowed as the vessels closed in on one another, and the Black Maiden crew tossed over the grappling hooks and pulled in its prey.

    Their leader cupped his hands around his mouth. "Give up the cargo and no one will be harmed."

    Together, Nathan’s men answered "Nay!" and raised their swords and pistols for attack. As a few of the Black Maiden’s men boarded the Eagle’s Lair, they were killed and thrown overboard.

    More followed.

    Almost immediately, Nathan battled a man he thought was one of his own crewmen and found himself being separated from his men.

    Turner!

    Knowing this man was an obvious spy set Nathan’s anger up a notch. Men of his crew didn’t turn on him. His opponent’s neck muscles stood out from the strain of thrusting his sword. The blades met and clashed, meeting flesh more than once for both of them. Nathan received a few minor wounds across his arms and chest, smatterings of blood covered his shirt, and perspiration soaked his face and body.

    “My cap’n said ye was good, but this night‘ll be yer last!”

    The salty sweat stung Nathan’s cuts and his temper stayed hot, but his attention didn’t waiver. All around him, he heard firing pistols, clashing blades and screams of agony as the night descended upon the swaying ship. His eyes never left those of his opponent, enabling Nathan to anticipate his moves. Detecting a slight distraction in the man’s concentration, Nathan thrust forward. The final blow sank into his opponent’s chest. Bright red covered his blade as he withdrew it, and the man crumpled.

    When Nathan looked around to see where he might be needed next, the man with the golden hoop earring stood before him.

    "He was one of my best men, Clairmont! But I warned him about you. Now you’re mine and we’ll end it here. I’ve waited years for this!" A villainous slant curved his lips into a sneer. Then he leaned back and laughed out loud as he touched the black eye-patch, and again the single gold hoop earring gleamed in the moonlight.

    Nathan realigned his stance. "Langley, I should have guessed you were behind all this!" he shouted, standing ready, gripping his sword with renewed vigor, though his voice remained calm. He’d already emptied his pistol. "Your scheme won’t work; you’ll not have this vessel. You’ll only lose men here, Langley. But then your men only serve one purpose for YOU, don’t they?”

      David Langley sneered. “They’re only pawns in my game. More wait to serve me and my needs, and soon, more ships shall be mine. I’ll be the owner of the most powerful shipping line to ever enter the East India Company!" His laughter rang out even above the noisy battle like the madman he was.

    Langley closed the distance between himself and Nathan, stalking around one another. All around him, Nathan smelled the sweat and blood penetrating the air. The cries of wounded men could be heard above the clashing of blades and the splintering of wood.

    He thrust forward, but Langley’s sword came up to ward off his attack. Balancing himself, he circled Langley, waiting, taunting, and preparing for the right moment.

    Nathan waited.

    Something distracted Langley for a second, but long enough for Nathan to slash his sword down across Langley’s thigh.

    His pain-filled scream alerted three of Langley’s crewmen, who came to his rescue. Two of them took Langley’s place while the third helped Langley re-board his ship. The two crewmen tried to separate and circle around Nathan.

      From the corner of his eye, Nathan caught sight of Faulkner coming toward him, closely followed by Philip. Together, the three finished the fight, throwing the dead men overboard into the icy waters, the grappling hooks dangled over the side. Nathan watched the Black Maiden drift away.

    "One of their dead tried to pose as a spy among our men. Turner. I saw you take of him though”, Faulkner said. “And they didn’t get the cargo, but I fear we lost a few good men of our own, sir."

    Nathan’s gaze surveyed the battle-strewn deck. The bloodied bodies of his companions lay scattered everywhere, along with several dead bodies wearing black.

    Pain throbbed in every limb as Nathan relaxed his sword arm. “Get rid of the bodies in black, and I’ll see to our men. Get blankets for the wounded," he ordered, glad the battle was finished, though sorry Langley had gotten away. He wasn’t surprised to find that bastard connected to this piracy. At least, if Langley was at sea, he wasn’t in London near Vanessa. Now that things had slowed a bit, Nathan’s wounds seared at each cut in his flesh. He noted the blood on his shirt, but brushed the pain from his mind as he surveyed the damaged bodies. He could tend to his own wounds later.

    After a few moment’s sorrow for his deceased crewmen, Nathan bent to help the wounded, knowing he’d say a few words later for those who’d died defending his ship. He’d only lost three men, but that was three too many.

    Damn Langley! The bloody bastard would pay.

                                                        * * * *

    The next morning, Nathan listened with Philip to Faulkner’s report on the wounded men. A stab of loss shot through Nathan. He desperately wanted to get to the person behind these attacks, and if Langley was also responsible for the attacks on Vanessa, that made the prize that much more desirable. The king had ordered any person involved in piracy to be sent to Newgate Prison. The horrors of what went on there drifted through his mind – the tortures, the screams, and the smell of rotting flesh. Langley deserved to be hanged, not just sentenced to Newgate!

    Nathan rose and raked the fingers of his right hand through his long hair. "I hate to lose any of my men, but we fared well compared to those of the Black Maiden. They lost more than half their crew.” He looked into the eyes of his crewmen. "I made sure their captain will never forget this night. He now has a constant reminder. I sliced opened the length of his thigh before his men rescued him. He’ll be limping about for a long time!"

    A round of cheers erupted from his men. He wasn’t going to tell anyone, at the moment, that Langley led the Black Maiden’s crew. More information was needed regarding Langley’s involvement in Clarissa’s death before making accusations and he wanted to tie Langley to the murder, piracy and the attacks on Vanessa. Nathan had a few things he needed to confirm before publicly accusing Langley, but accuse him he would.

    The remainder of the voyage passed uneventfully, allowing his men to heal. Nathan healed too, if only on the outside. As he lay alone in his bunk, he watched the moon’s reflection on the wall. He thought of Vanessa’s beautiful green eyes, her flowing auburn hair and how bad he wanted to hold her in his arms. That was not to be. Back in Ceylon, he’d seen the love in her eyes for another man. One who had cherished her since childhood and he refused to step between them. For the time being, Nathan would stay put to be sure she was safe. That would keep him close to her, yet torture his sole. His own punishment for not making her understand that he would love her more. He wasn’t ready to move on anyway. To be honest with himself, he still mourned Clarissa. Their life together could have been filled with so much love. Damn Langley!

    With that last thought, Nathan turned on his side and prayed for a peaceful sleep. He could use some well deserved rest.

                                                            * * * *

    James Deveraux and his father, Thomas, sat in the drawing room at Deveraux Manor. They discussed the voyage and the goods to be brought back from America by Nathan and Philip on the Eagle’s Lair. Profits would be made with this shipment.

    Henry, the footman, entered with a silver tray. "Excuse me, sirs, this message just arrived and I was told it is very urgent." Henry gave the note to Thomas.

      James waited while his father read the note, then saw color drain from his broad, age-carved face. James read his father’s concern as he followed him to the door. "Father, what is it?"

    His father’s brows drew together in anger. "Come on. One of our largest Indiamen is burning. I’m sure it’ll burn to the water before we get there," he said, bridled rage dripping from every word. James called Henry to ready the carriage.

    An hour later at the wharf, a cloud of smoke hovered over the docking area, shrouding everything and giving the impression of a burnt forest with the many empty masts protruding from the other docked ships. James curled his fingers into fists and stood beside his father and their manager. All he could do was watch as the ship burned to the water line and the pungent smell of burnt wood permeated the air. The heat from the flames reached like searing fingers through the cold air as he stood on the wharf.

    A young boy ran up to where they stood to hand Thomas another message, and then just as quickly ran away. After reading it, his father held it out for James to read:

      THIS IS JUST A WARNING - YOU WILL LOSE ANOTHER VESSEL
      IF YOU DO NOT SELL DEVERAUX LINES WITH OUR NEXT OFFER!

    James stared at the paper, shock and fury burning through him as fast as the flames had ravaged the ship, then glanced up to stare at his father. "You’re contemplating the sale of Deveraux Lines?" He crumpled the missive. “You never mentioned this before. We need to discuss such a move first!" The ships and the trading company were his whole life. Lloyd’s of London would surely cover the loss of the merchantman, but he refused to sell their entire fleet.

    Thomas rubbed his forehead, his other hand leaning on his cane for support. "I received a message a short while back just like that one," he said, a bit dazed. "Someone wanted to buy our company and our ships. I refused to even consider it, and sent them my reply!" Then he pounded his walking stick on the wooden docks in frustration. "These bloody men have no idea who they’re dealing with!"

    James removed his tricorn hat, raked shaky fingers through his hair, then resettled it back on his head, and buttoned his coat against the cold. "Do you have any idea who’s behind this?" he asked as he watched the remaining embers float along the water, then sizzle before the glow finally died. The odor of burnt wood stung his nose. His heart sank at the loss.

    His father’s narrowed eyes scanned the docks and crewmen. "No, Billington was interested long ago, but wouldn’t destroy a valuable ship. He’s no coward; he’d come forward himself and discuss the matter." Unleashing his frustration on his manager, his father’s face twisted in anger. "Carlton, I want the number of men doubled around the wharf, and check the local pubs and coffee houses for any witnesses and information. I don’t care what it costs. I want answers. We can’t afford to lose another ship! Is that understood?"

    Carlton nodded. "Yes, sir, it’ll begin tonight. I’ll alert the men immediately." He strode away.

    On the way back to the carriage, James took his father’s arm so he wouldn’t slip. "We’ll have to keep our eyes and ears open, and watch everyone for suspicious actions. The responsible party is bound to make an error somewhere along the line. I’m also making a visit to John Fielding, the Chief Magistrate and see what his Bow Street Runners can come up. Though the man is blind, he’s London’s top investigator right now. The man’s top notch; he’ll find something out for us."

      “I knew his brother Henry well; he’s the man who started the Bow Street Runners, but had to retire and John took over for him. Those two do know what they’re doing!”

    Traveling back to the manor, they tried to figure out who would even consider doing something this devious. His father’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the handle of his cane, contemplating ideas. "I’ll talk with the other underwriters at Lloyd’s Coffee House in the morning. I know they’ve been suspicious of a few other accidents that have taken place and want to do something to keep the claims down. The culprits have to be caught and punished before they bleed our company dry. Someone out there is making a little side money!" his father said, again pounding his cane.

                                                    * * * *

“Vanessa Deveraux, do you take Jonathan Shyler to be your husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward?”

    The love reflected in Jonathan’s eyes made the butterflies flutter in Vanessa’s stomach. She would finally be his wife with her reply as they stood before friends and family. It seemed she’d waited a lifetime for this moment.
“I do,” she answered, squeezing his hands as a joyful tear slipped down her cheek.

    Jonathan kissed her and they turned to walk down the isle as man and wife. She thought she would burst from the happiness inside her. Her father shook Jonathan’s hand as they passed. She clung to his arm and smiled at everyone as they left the church.

    Outside, she hugged their guests and accepted their well-wishes. Thoughts of the reception following at the Bridgewaters had her head in the clouds; she’d never been this happy. When Jonathan reached out to hug and kiss her between guests, it was a though they were alone in a bubble, surrounded by happiness.

    “Congratulations both of you, but you’ll be late for your reception if you don’t get this beautiful woman into the carriage.” Nathan leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Happiness to you always, Vanessa.”

    “Nathan’s right, love, let’s get you into the carriage.”

    Philip opened the door and Jonathan helped her in. She moved over to make room for her husband. The door shut and he covered their laps with a fur as they started on their way. She cuddled closer, put her feet upon the hot bricks for more warmth and smiled up at Jonathan.

    “Lady Shyler, you are beautiful today, as always. I love you.”
“I’m so happy today. I can’t wait to dance with you later, to be held close in your arms.”

    Snow had begun to fall just before they left the church. Vanessa peered through the window of the carriage, and marveled at the different shapes of the minuscule snowflakes landing against the glass.  The fur-lined throw covering her own ermine-lined pelisse kept her cozy and warm as well as Jonathan. Pending excitement made her jittery thinking about the reception to take place at Lord and Lady Bridgwater’s home—-the expansive Ashridge Park mansion in Hertfordshire—-now coming into view.

    Vanessa took in the beauty of the estate despite the scaffolding that lined a newly built wall on the west wing. "It seems they are always building additions onto their home. My parents have been friends with the Bridgewaters for years. They were wonderful to open their home for us. Look at all the carriages, Jonathan.”

    He leaned closer to peer out the window. "The Duke of North Yorkshire mentioned to me that James Wyatt had started the Bridgewater’s new construction a few months ago. His ideas and techniques have always kept him quite busy. It appears he’s doing an excellent job."

    Jonathan pointed out the exquisite architecture to her. The sight of the cathedral-like home took Vanessa’s breath away as she stared in awe out the carriage window.  The gothic style home sprawled and rambled in the landscape surrounding the mansion. It consisted of three and four stories in some parts, with several crenellated towers and turrets, and steeples rising two stories high from the chapel, reminding her of a palace. Hundreds of beautiful detailed tracery windows graced the entire facade.

    Jonathan placed his arm around her shoulders. "Ashridge Park boasts over three hundred servants and has thirty or so guest chambers."

    "One has to see it to believe its grandeur. It takes forever to stroll around the estate."

    Jonathan laughed. "Maybe we should see for ourselves this evening? I promise to keep you warm," he said, the deep timbre of his voice catching her attention. She glanced up at him and he took her lips in a passionate kiss. "I love you," he whispered.

    “I love you, too.” She reached up to cup his cheek in her hand and kissed him again, loving the warmth of his lips on hers.

    Moments later, they greeted guests inside the ballroom and sipped champagne. Vanessa talked with Anna while Jonathan discussed his recent trip to America with Philip.

    Vanessa touched Anna’s arm and leaned closer. "I’m so glad to see you and Philip together. I like the change you seem to have made in his character. He doesn’t have as much time to think of new ways to taunt me as he once did."

    Anna glanced at Philip, then back at Vanessa. "I do enjoy being with him. He’s always teasing me."
                                                  * * * *

    Later that evening, after the dancing had begun, Vanessa watched new guests enter the ballroom door. Something akin to hatred seeped into her veins like slow molten lava when she spotted a limping David Langley escorting Rebecca Monteith. She was the last person Vanessa wanted at her reception; the woman seemed to show up no matter where they went. Now she and Langley came toward them. Did she have a purpose in vying for Jonathan’s attentions, even on his wedding day? Then again, that woman thrived on all the attention she could get from any man. What surprised her most of all, Vanessa couldn’t believe Rebecca would stoop so low as to be with Langley!

    Then David Langley momentarily met her gaze, only to take a longer glance down the length of her body and again he made her feel naked.



**Go to Chapter Six  {item:1500658  }