Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (8 page)

So this was death.

Miranda filled her mind with the sensations—quite pleased that she was still capable of rational thought in the afterlife.

She was floating... No, floating wasn’t the exact word she wanted. Rocking. Yes, rocking was more like it. And she was hungry. Hungry? And heaven smelled like bilge water, and what was that creaking noise?

Miranda’s eyes popped open.

This wasn’t heaven. It wasn’t even hell—though that was probably closer to the truth. And she wasn’t dead! What had made her think she was?

Miranda sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bunk as memory rushed over her. She’d been in her room in her father’s house and the pirate was there. He was trying to kill her, and... Try as she might, Miranda couldn’t remember any more.

Standing, she glanced around. She was in a cabin, larger than the one she’d had sailing to the New World, but unmistakably on a ship.

Panic hit her. She had to get out of here and off this boat before it sailed from Charles Town. Ignoring the fact that she wore only a torn, dirty night rail, Miranda ran to the door and yanked on the latch.

The blasted thing was locked!

Rushing across the deck to the transom window, Miranda peered out. Tears fogged her vision, but she could still see the endless expanse of ocean churning in the ship’s wake. She slumped down on the window seat, her forehead resting against the wavery glass, and sobbed. It was cowardly to give in to tears, to waste valuable time when she could be thinking of a solution to this problem. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

She jerked around when she heard a rattling at the door. It opened, and she stood, wiping her torn sleeve across her face. When a man walked in, her eyes widened. “You!”

Jack couldn’t help grinning at the loathing she injected into that one word. He entered his cabin, truly annoyed with himself when his gaze dropped to her hands in search of possible weapons. “Well,” he said, relieved to see none. “You’re looking charming this morning.” Actually she was a disheveled mess, with tangled hair and dirty face. “Did you sleep comfortably?”

“You... you...” Words escaped her, and abandoning rational thought, she flew at him.

Jack caught her easily by the wrists and held her at arm’s length, “My, my, we are in a temper, aren’t we?”

Miranda blew raven hair from her face. “I demand to know where I am.” His evil chuckle made her twist her arms, but he only tightened his manacle hold.

“You demand, do you? Where do you think you are?” Jack blamed some perverse streak in his character for enjoying tormenting this woman so.

“I don’t kn—” Miranda stopped, cutting short her reply. He was the pirate, so it was only logical she was— “Oh, no.” Her shoulders drooped forward. “I’m on a pirate ship.”

“Aye. The good ship
Sea Hawk
,” Jack said with some pride.

“Where are you taking me, and why did you kill my father?” A sob escaped her on the last word.

“Kill your father?” Jack dropped one of her hands and swiped aside the midnight black curls still covering her face. He’d meant to give her a little scare in payment for all the trouble she’d caused him, not to mention her attack with the book, but he didn’t like seeing her cry. And he sure as hell didn’t want her thinking he’d killed Henry. “Your father’s not dead.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Miranda dragged her other hand away and scrubbed at the tears that were falling unchecked now. “I know you killed him.”

“God’s blood, I did not kill your father!”

“Then, why didn’t he respond to my cries for help?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why?” Miranda stuck her chin out, daring him to weasel out of his lie.

For a moment Jack just stared at her and her defiant expression. How was he going to answer her? The real reason was out of course. Henry would never forgive him if he told the little hellion the truth. That her father had been cowering behind a locked door and that he’d planned the entire kidnapping.

That explanation being unusable, what excuse could he give? “I tied him up.”

“What?”

“Aye. Tied him up and gagged him.” Jack stood, booted feet apart, hands clasped behind his back. He was warming to this scenario. “I warned him what would happen to you if he interfered.”

“But why do you want me?” There seemed to be a ring of truth to the story about her father. At least Miranda prayed so. Now all she had to worry about was herself.

“Ransom.”

“But I don’t understand.”

“Ransom,” Jack repeated. “I kidnap you. Your father pays my price. I give you back. God’s blood, pirates do it all the time.” Of course this was the first time he’d resorted to it, and if all ransoms were as difficult as this one, Jack figured he’d stay away from them in the future as well.

“I see.”

Jack watched his captive chew on her thumbnail, obviously contemplating his words. He wondered if she realized her nightgown was ripped and that he could easily see the creamy swell of her right breast.

“What if he doesn’t pay?”

“He’ll pay.”

“But what if he can’t? Perhaps he doesn’t have the money.”

“He has the, money. Do you think I go around kidnapping people without knowing how much I can collect? I’m a pirate, for God’s sake!”

“Oh.” It did seem logical. Her father couldn’t pay unless he was indeed alive. And the pirate didn’t appear to have any other reason for taking her, nor could she think of one. There was one more thing. “How much are you getting for me?”

“What?” He never knew a woman—nay, make that anyone—to ask so many questions.

“For my ransom. How much am I worth?” It was a silly question, but Miranda couldn’t help wondering how much her father was asked to pay for her.

Jack was beginning to think two pence was too much, but he refrained from saying it. “That’s my business, not yours,” he growled. “You stay down here, don’t cause any trouble, and before you know it, you’ll be back in Charles Town.” Then, because she looked entirely too relieved, Jack added, “But if you do anything— I mean anything— to annoy me...” Jack left his threat unfinished as he took a menacing step toward her.

“I understand.”

Jack glared at her until he thought her suitably intimidated. “Good. Your things are over there.” He motioned toward a pile on his desk. He’d sent Phin around to Henry’s before they sailed this morning, to gather up some clothes for his captive. And Jack was glad he had. The sooner she changed from that torn night rail that exposed entirely too much of her, the sooner he’d stop thinking of easier ways to close those pretty lips of hers.

Damn, he hadn’t noticed before just how beautiful she was. Or maybe he had and just didn’t want to admit it. Either way, he’d be glad when he could deposit her back on her father’s doorstep.

But for now she was quickly sorting through the bundle on the desk. She looked up at him, her face brightening in a smile. “You brought my microscope.”

“I did? I mean, aye, I did.” What in the hell was the damn microscope doing here? He’d said clothes. Have Henry pack some clothes for her. That’s all. Leave it to Henry to provide his daughter with all the comforts of home. Jack was surprised the older man hadn’t insisted his cook and a lady’s maid accompany Miranda on her kidnapping.

But the microscope did seem to make her happy. She didn’t appear to give a care to the dresses she’d scattered about. And maybe if she was happy, she’d stay out of his—

“What?” he asked. His captive was looking at him with an expression of pure loathing. Jack hated to admit it, but he liked the smile a lot better.

“You’re scheming to steal it, aren’t you?”

“What? The microscope?” He watched as she clutched the stupid thing to her breast like a mother protecting her offspring. “Don’t be a blooming idiot. What would I want that thing for?”

“Why, for one thing it’s terribly expensive. For another you could study all manner of insects and plant life and in just one drop of water—”

“I know all about the little animals swimming around in my water,” Jack said with more than a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Animalcules,” Miranda corrected. “And they are there.” He was so insufferably arrogant. Miranda wished she didn’t find his face and form so appealing. Lord, what was she thinking?

“So you say.”

And ignorant, Miranda decided again. He was totally ignorant, and apparently content to stay that way. “A man with any intelligence would wish to find out for himself.” Her delicate raven brows lifted ever so slightly.

Dumb! The wench was calling him dumb! Him! Jack felt anger seep up through him like a rising tide. Maybe he hadn’t had much formal education since the Spanish attack on Port Royal, but he sure as hell wasn’t dumb. He could sail a ship and outsmart an enemy and calculate his position by the stars, not to mention calculating the worth of the cargo he stole. And he had managed to make her his prisoner.

Unfortunately, Jack wasn’t certain he could use that as an example of his intelligence. He was beginning to fear her kidnapping could be used to prove her point.

Regardless, the woman had to be crazy to chide him so, under the circumstances. Jack folded his arms across his chest and leveled his gaze on her. “All I need know of water ‘tis that it quenches my thirst and floats my ship.” Turning on his booted heel, Jack stomped from the cabin, vowing to have naught to do with the chit until he could bundle her off to Henry.

Miranda stood staring at the door, gnawing on her thumbnail. She’d made the pirate angry—really angry. She had noticed the rise of color under his tanned skin. And the way he clenched his jaw until a muscle twitched.

She thought him ignorant, but had proven herself even much more so. Who with any sense would anger a pirate? A pirate who held her very life in his huge hands. Miranda shook her head.

And informing him that the microscope was expensive was just inviting him to steal it. Miranda sank down in a chair. She really had to be more careful around him.

If she believed him—and Miranda found she did—her father was safe, and she would be, too, as soon as the ransom was paid. Miranda wished she’d asked when he thought that would be. Grimacing, Miranda decided not to press her luck by inquiring.

Besides—she glanced around the cabin—her accommodations weren’t too bad, and she did have her microscope. Miranda brushed aside a petticoat, smiling when she saw the parchment. She had everything she needed to work and study.

Satisfied, Miranda stood. First she’d dress. For the first time this morning she looked down at herself. She screeched in horror. Her night rail was torn. She clutched at the fabric, trying to cover her breast, cringing with embarrassment because she knew it was far too late.

No wonder the pirate’s eyes had kept drifting lower than her face. The blackguard! The miscreant! The bastard! Miranda couldn’t think of enough terrible names to call him.

“Why in the hell did you bring that microscope on board?”

Phin glanced up from tying rigging around a belaying pin and grinned his gap-toothed grin. “Well, good morn to ye, too, Cap’n.”

Jack ignored his sarcasm, which maybe wasn’t a good idea. What the quartermaster needed was a couple licks of the cat to remind him about proper respect. But there was no use threatening it. They both knew Jack wouldn’t have him flogged. Besides, if he were to flog anyone, it would be the little lady below—

Jack forced his mind from such thoughts. He knew he wouldn’t do that either. “I asked you a question, Phin.”

Phin gave the rope an extra tug. “Was only followin’ orders, Cap’n. Yer orders,” he added for emphasis.

“I know very well what my orders were, and they did not include bringing that... that instrument aboard.”

Phin shrugged. “Mr. Chadwick musta packed it up with her things.”

“And you had no idea it was there?” Jack’s hands rested on his lean hips. “You couldn’t tell the difference between some frilly dresses and a wooden crate?”

“Well.” Phin squinted his face. “Maybe I did figure it was that microscope thing. But I ain’t recallin’ ye sayin’ not to bring it with me.”

Jack could do nothing but stare against that sort of reasoning.

“Besides, ain’t ye just a tiny bit curious to see them little animals?”