“To see the Frenchman.”
“By whose invitation?”
“His, o’ course.”
“What property ye got to show him?”
“This fine piece of horseflesh, for one.”
The man with the sling studied India and the horse. “That so. I reckon I’ll take the beast down to him.”
“No good,” Will said quickly. “The horse don’t let a soul on his back except the boy. And where the boy goes, I go.”
The man reluctantly stepped aside.
Colton shoved Froggett in front of him. “Hurry up, boy,” he called to India, who slid down and led the gelding carefully along the dock, reins tight in her fingers. At that same moment a man bounced down the gangway and landed in a heap at the bottom. A box of gold coins and jewelry came hurtling after him, landing on the wood with a crack.
“Nothing but worthless zinc and copper,” a voice cried from the deck. “And those ‘diamonds’ only rock crystal! Try that again and you’ll leave without the front of your head,
mon ami.”
The man gathered up his merchandise and skittered away, cursing.
“See,” Will said glumly. “No good fobbing false goods off on the Frenchman. Still, he pays the best, when he’s satisfied.” He moved closer to Froggett, his pistol now hidden in one pocket. “I got the barker right here, old man, and it can still put a ball through your worthless head, so remember your manners. It’s the horse to sell and no tricks.”
Froggett scowled, but nodded.
Female laughter echoed over the gangplank. Aboard the
Gypsy
an argument was clearly in progress. It seemed to revolve around the question of whether female garters ought to be red or pink.
India swallowed. She
definitely
had a bad feeling about this. The instinct grew even sharper when a buxom female appeared at the top of the gangway, her form barely restrained by a clinging gown. She tittered loudly. “Here’s more come to see the Frenchman. Said it would be a busy night, didn’t I just!” She rubbed her hands greedily while Colton pushed Froggett before him up the wooden planks. India stayed behind, soothing the great gelding, which was growing nervous with the wild activity and the loud voices.
“No use for horses,” a voice called harshly. “Send the pack of ‘em away.”
“But, yer honor, yer ain’t even seen what I got for you.”
“No need to see it,” the heavily accented voice said. “I’ve seen my fill for the night. Now be off with you.”
India’s fingers tightened on Hannibal’s mane. She knew what the band would do next. If the horse had no value, they would dispose of it — along with the two travelers.
That left her only one alternative.
In one swift movement, she swung up into the saddle. As Hannibal reared and danced beneath her, she drove him up the gangway and charged onto the deck.
“Good sweet God above! The boy’s rode the horse right onto the
Gypsy!”
Torches flicked over the polished wood of the deck where men lolled on coiled ropes and overturned barrels. “Here now,” one of the men growled. “You can’t bring no animal on board. Bleedin’ bad luck, it is!”
“How much for the horse?” a hard voice demanded.
Around India the men went still.
“The horse is not for sale,” she said flatly.
All noise faded away on the deck.
“No? If he isn’t for sale, why have you brought him here,
mon gars?”
All eyes swung to the tall figure leaning against the forward mast. His broad shoulders were covered by a thick wool sweater and his face was in shadow.
“I didn’t. These
brutes
waylaid us and tried to steal the horse.”
“‘Tis a lie,” Colton protested. “I hired the whelp to ride the horse. Then the cunning little snake tried to steal him from me.”
“You begin to interest me, boy.” A long shadow fell across the deck, slashing across India and her prancing mount. Something about that bar of darkness made her shiver. She frowned, trying to make out the features of the man.
Black hair tied back in an unfashionable queue. A black eye patch. Swarthy skin half hidden by grime and a heavy beard. Her eyes locked with fascination on the gold ring that dangled from his ear.
She swallowed.
“And just whose horse is it that I have the great honor of viewing?” The voice was liquid, heavily accented, and darkly compelling.
“I am — Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah who?”
“Er, Froggett. Your honor,” she added. “But like I said, the horse ain’t for sale. These villains was trying to steal him from me.”
Instantly Will Colton shouldered his way through the crowd. “‘Tis a lie, yer honor. The thievin’ little wretch rode the beast down here from London for me. Paid him proper to do the job, too, so I did.”
“He’s
the one who’s lying!” India protested. In an instant a fierce argument ensued. It was halted by a pistol ball striking the
Gypsy’s
deck.
“Enough,” the captain growled. “It is easy to determine if the horse is stolen. Off the horse, boy.” India slid to the deck, though she kept her fingers locked on the gelding’s mane.
“Move apart now.”
Colton stepped back, scowling.
“You, sir, call the horse.”
After a moment’s hesitation Will raised one grimy hand. “Here, er, fellow. Come to me now, come like a good fellow.”
The great horse raised his head and nickered, unmoving.
“Now you, boy.”
“Come, love,” India called softly. “There’s a sweet fellow.” Instantly the gelding danced across the deck and moved behind her, butting her softly. “Ho,” she said, but the horse kept moving, shoving her toward the man at the mast. “Stop that, you irritating creature!”
But the gelding had ideas of his own. A moment later India was pitched against the tall, unsmiling figure by the mast.
Her breath caught. Hard ridges of muscle drove into her hips. The pirate’s low laugh made her cheeks flame. She tried to step back, only to find his hands clenched at her waist.
“Voyons,
the night, she has turned interesting.”
Her head was wrenched back. The lantern rose above her.
The captain gave a low, muttered curse. “Perkins?”
“Aye, Cap’n?”
“Take the horse away and rub him down,” the Frenchman ordered harshly.
“I’ll not leave! Not without my money!” Colton bellowed. “You’ll not get the animal past my men neither.”
The pirate waved his hand as if knocking away a fly. “Take this fellow away, too, Perkins.”
A fight broke out on deck. During the chaos that ensued, India slid onto Hannibal’s back, determined to protect Froggett while he escaped overboard.
But she never got the opportunity.
Strong hands closed over her waist. She was yanked from the horse and flung over a brawny shoulder.
“Let me go, you — you pirate scum!”
Her protests were met with a low chuckle.
“He’ll do you no good! Only I can ride Hannibal. He’ll toss you on your face the second you touch his back.”
“But no, I have a way with animals — and with people.”
Something in that cool, fluid voice made India’s pulse quicken. She fought furiously as the Frenchman’s hard hands slid along her back and covered her twisting hips.
Abruptly his long fingers tightened. India heard him curse.
Dear God, he couldn’t know! Not after one brief contact.
India was having a
very
bad feeling about this.
But she wouldn’t let the grimy pirate see her fear. “Let me go! He’ll be no good to you, I tell you.”
By now every man on deck was silent, watching rapt as their captain struggled with this cocky new arrival.
“Stop fighting me,” the Frenchman hissed.
“Like hell I will!”
Her captor’s voice fell. “Do you wish for me to reveal you to all my men? Right now, my dear?” he added silkily.
He knew. Sweet heaven, he’d found her out!
India caught a ragged breath. What was she to do now?
The deck pitched suddenly. She was swung onto her stomach and carried toward the companionway.
“Keep the horse safe, Perkins. No one is to touch him until I have the facts of this matter. No doubt a few blows with my strap will work the truth out of the boy.”
“Just you try it,” India hissed, kicking furiously.
“Oh, you may count on that. Beating you is
exactly
what I mean to do, my dear. Or should I say
Lady India Delamere
?” the harsh voice hissed back.