Aurora had one foot on the carriage step when a disturbance across the quay made her pause. The prisoner had reached the end of the gangway and was being harangued to climb into a waiting wagon, obviously a difficult task because of his chains.
When he moved too slowly, he was given a savage shove that sent him stumbling almost to his knees. Saving himself by clutching the wagon's rear gate, he drew himself up and turned to eye his guard with a contemptuous stare.
His cool insolence seemed to infuriate his tormentors for he received a musket butt to the ribs, which doubled him over in pain.
Aurora's cry of protest at the vicious attack lodged in her throat when the prisoner swung his chains at the guard. It was a futile gesture of defiance, for he was bound too tightly to effect any real damage, but apparently his rebellion was the excuse his guards wanted.
Both seamen set upon him with the stocks of their muskets, driving him to the cobblestones with cries of "Scurvy dog!" and "Bastard sea scum!"
Aurora recoiled in horror at seeing someone treated so viciously, without mercy. "For pity's sake…" she murmured hoarsely. "Make them stop, Percy!"
"It is a naval matter," her cousin replied in a grim tone, speaking in his role as lieutenant governor of St. Kitts. "I have no justification for interfering."
"Dear God, they'll beat him to death…" Without waiting for a reply, she picked up her skirts and ran toward the commotion.
"Aurora!" She heard Percy curse under his breath, but she never slowed her steps nor paused to consider the danger or the madness of intervening in the violent dispute.
She had no weapon at hand and no clear plan beyond attempting a rescue, but when she reached the guards, she swung her reticule at the nearest assailant and managed to hit the side of his face.
"What the 'ell…?"
When the startled seaman flinched at the unexpected attack, Aurora left off her flailing and pushed her way between the fallen prisoner and his assailants. Hiding her own fear, she sank to her knees, half covering the nearly unconscious man with her own body to shield him from being struck again.
The guard swore a vulgar oath.
Coldly furious, Aurora lifted her chin and stared up at him, silently daring him to strike her.
"Ma'am, ye've no business ‘ere," he declared angrily. "This man is a vicious pirate."
"You, sir, may address me as my lady," she replied, her normally serene voice almost fierce as she called upon the power of her rank. "My father is the Duke of Eversley and claims the Prince Regent and the Lord High Admiral among his close acquaintances." She could see the sailor assessing her and her attire; her fashionable silk bonnet and walking dress were the gray of half mourning, with only a touch of lilac trim on the lapels of the spencer to relieve the severity.
"And this gentleman," she added as Percy hurriedly reached her side, "is my cousin, Sir Percy Osborne, who happens to be lieutenant governor of Nevis and St. Kitts. I would think twice before challenging him."
Percy's jaw tightened at her declaration, and he murmured in disapproval, "Aurora, this is quite unseemly. You're causing a spectacle."
"It would be more unseemly to stand by while these cowards murder an unarmed man."
Ignoring the guard's glare, she glanced down at the injured prisoner. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to be conscious, for his jaw was clenched in pain. He still looked half savage-his skin glistening with sweat and blood, a growth of dark stubble shadowing his jaw.
His head seemed to have suffered the worst damage. Not only was his temple bleeding profusely, but his sun-streaked hair, a much darker gold than her own, was matted black with dried blood, evidently from an earlier injury.
Aurora tensed as her gaze dropped lower, yet even so, she felt her heartbeat quicken. The raw masculinity that had unnerved her at a distance was even more obvious this close, the sinewy hardness of his body unmistakable. His sun-bronzed chest and shoulders rippled with muscle, while the canvas breeches hugged his powerful thighs.
Then he opened his eyes and fixed them on her. His gaze was dark, the rich hue of coffee flecked with amber. His intent stare gave her the same jolting sensation she'd felt earlier: the feeling of being totally alone with him, along with a keen awareness of her femininity.
Nearly as strange were the tender feelings of protectiveness his injuries engendered. Gently Aurora reached up to wipe the smear of blood from his forehead.
Chains jangling, he grasped her wrist. "Don't," he muttered hoarsely. "Stay out of this… you'll be hurt."
Her skin burned where his fingers touched, but she tried to ignore the sensation, just as she disregarded his entreaty. At the moment she was less interested in protecting herself than in saving his life. "You don't expect me to watch your murder, do you?"
The pained smile he gave her was fleeting as he released her wrist and struggled to push himself up on his elbows. For a moment he dizzily shut his eyes.
"You need a doctor," Aurora said in alarm.
"No… I have a hard head."
"Obviously not hard enough."
She had forgotten they weren't alone, until her cousin leaned over her shoulder and gave an exclamation of dismay. "Good God… Sabine!"
"You know him?" Aurora asked.
"Indeed, I do. He owns half the merchant ships in the Caribbean. He's an American… Nick, what the devil are you doing here?"
He grimaced in pain. "An unfortunate encounter with the British navy, I fear."
Aurora realized his speech was much softer and flatter than her own clipped sounds as her cousin turned to the guards and demanded an explanation.
"What is the meaning of this? Why is this man in chains?"
The guards were spared having to reply when their commanding officer joined them. Aurora remembered having met Captain Richard Gerrod at some polite government function a few weeks before.
"I can answer that, your excellency," Gerrod said coolly. "He is bound in chains because he is a prisoner of war, condemned to be hanged for piracy and murder."
"Murder, captain? That is frankly absurd. You must have heard of Nicholas Sabine," Percy insisted, pronouncing the American's name Sahbean. "He is a hero in these parts, not a murderer. Obviously you have mistaken his identity."
"I assure you I have mistaken nothing. He was recognized by one of my officers on Montserrat, where he was reckless and arrogant enough to visit a woman in the midst of a war. He most certainly is the notorious pirate Captain Saber. Not only has he commandeered at least two British merchantmen since the war began, but he sank the HMS Barton just last month."
"It was my understanding," said Percy, "that the Barton's crew was saved from drowning by that same pirate and deposited on the nearest isle."
"Yes, but a seaman died in that engagement and several more were injured. And Sabine nearly killed one of my crew yesterday while resisting arrest. He has indeed committed acts of war against the Crown, Sir Percy. Acts punishable by death."
Percy turned to the fallen man. "Is this true, Sabine? You're a pirate?"
Sabine's half smile held cold anger. "In America we use the term privateer, and we've never yielded the right to protect our own ships. The Barton was attacking one of my merchantmen and I intervened. As for commandeering your vessels, I considered it a fair exchange for the loss of two of my own."
Aurora wasn't as horrified as perhaps she should have been at the accusation of piracy. With their two countries at war, Britain considered any armed American ship culpable. And Sabine should indeed have a right to defend his own ships. She knew her cousin would agree. Though such political beliefs were disloyal to the Crown, Percy considered the war a mistake and Britain primarily at fault for instigating it. The charge of murder, however, disturbed her greatly…