Page 20 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
A true coward.
It’d been roughly four years since he last saw Mr. Harris, and Cedric assumed the man had only grown grayer and meaner over the passage of time. He doubted Mr. Harris would recognize either him or Mr. Hayward. His focus had been locked on Rowland and Mrs. Taylor as Rowland spirited her and Mr. Harris’s gold away.
Cedric hadn’t given Mr. Harris any thought since then, but according to Rowland, Mr. Harris had given much thought to reclaiming Mrs. Taylor and had determined she was hidden somewhere off the coast of America, which was close enough to their true location to cause panic.
With Mr. Harris and the Navy closing in, Ceresus was no longer safe for the Taylors, or any other pirate for that matter. Cedric had encouraged them to reserve a cabin aboard a ship sailing for Wiltshire as soon as he departed on this final journey, his one stipulation for agreeing to handle Mr. Harris.
Then he entrusted all of his assets to Rowland, instructing his former captain to deliver them to Dinah once they arrived in England. It was a precaution, a way to assist his sister in case the unthinkable happened and Cedric never returned.
Agreeing to this favor wasn’t enough recompense to make up for everything Rowland had done for Cedric when he first arrived on the Captain’s ship or anything he’d done since then, but it was a start.
If he had to kill Mr. Harris three times, he would do so with a smile on his lips. Damn his soul!
“Load the cannons!” Mr. Johnson shouted, his voice echoing through the gun deck.
Their ship veered left, slipping between the Crescent Rose and the harbor and preventing the passenger ship from turning toward the port. The Crescent Rose hadn’t outrun them. In fact, she was losing speed, and as they bore down on the vessel, alarm bells rang out.
On the top deck, his men returned to the starboard side of the ship, clutching grapnels and planks, their pistols drawn, their faces transforming into terrifying masks of fury.
By the time his crew boarded the Crescent Rose, the cannons would have ripped several large holes in the hull of the ship. Timing was important. They needed to get as many hostages off the Crescent Rose as possible before the ship sank.
“Fire!”
Explosions ripped from the side of the ship, hitting the stern of the Crescent Rose. Protecting their eyes, his crew cheered as the rudder blew apart, flinging pieces of wood upward and scattering them across the ocean.
“Reload!”
If the ship had been a Naval vessel, Cedric’s ship would have been gutted by cannon blasts before they managed to get off the second round, but since the Crescent Rose had very little means of defense, save the few officers standing on the portside with rifles, they were in no danger of being sunk.
Shots rang out. His crew fired back at the officers stationed on deck, forcing them to take cover in the wheelhouse.
“Fire!”
The second round of cannon fire shredded aft of the Crescent Rose, bringing the ship to a standstill. Black smoke poured from the base of the vessel, indicating the beginning of a fire, accompanied by screams from passengers running from the flames.
“Drop anchor and get ready to board!” Cedric’s command electrified the men positioned along the starboard side, and those with grapnels raised them in the air, whipping the hooks in circles over their heads.
On his order, they flung the grapnels, the metal hooks digging into the Crescent Rose’s railing. Jubilant shouts rippled across the deck as those holding planks slid them across the open space between the ships, connecting the vessels with precarious wooden walkways.
There was no turning back.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALANA
Aclanging bell echoed through the corridor, repeating the same pattern three times. Alana opened her door, confused by the urgent sound.
A moment later, the Parker’s door opened.
As Mr. Parker stepped into the corridor, a man crashed into him, knocking him into his wife. She stumbled backward with a gasp. Grabbing her elbow, he steadied her, and face purpling, he started after the man.
“Sir!”
The man spun, his skin translucent, but he didn’t stop. Pointing a trembling finger at the rear of the ship, his quivering voice barely reached them.
“P-P-Pirates.”
Explosions drowned out his next words. The ship lurched, slowing. With a squeak, the man turned and fled, vanishing around the corner.
