Brittany had stripped down to her thin chemise, trying to find some relief from the oppressive heat. There was not a breath of air stirring. The sails of the
Victorious
hung limp while she drifted upon the calm, silvery ribbon of sea. A poignant silence hung heavy in the air as though a grim prediction of things to come.
Brittany had bathed in cool water, then reapplied the dark stain to her skin. She lay down on her bunk, with the intention of resting for only a moment, because she did not want to stay away from Achmed for very long. He might be concerned if he awakened and she was not beside him.
The lantern flickered low, and she closed her eyes, drifting off into a world of dreams, where there was no hurt and no uncertainty about the future.
Suddenly Brittany was not alone in her dream. She felt a firm hand clasp hers, and she glanced into the angry blue eyes of Captain Thorn Stoddard.
She felt as if the air was trapped in her lungs; she could scarcely draw a deep breath. She pressed forward until her body was touching with full length of the captain’s, and she saw his blue eyes swirling with passion. She was overwhelmed by the first stirring of womanhood that sprung to life within her young body.
Brittany was aware that she was dreaming and that the Thorn Stoddard in her dream did not exist. She wanted to hold on to her fantasy world, but even now it was fading. So this was what it felt like to desire a man. The women of the
harem had told her about the strong feelings between a man and woman; now she understood the depths of such feelings.
Brittany was jarred awake by a sudden feeling of unrest. Had it been a sound that had awakened her? She raised up on her elbows, her heart beating with some unknown dread. The lantern flickered low and almost went out, casting the far corner of the room in shadow.
Even if she could not see anyone, she felt an ominous presence in the room with her.
Slowly she swung her legs off the bed, wondering if she dared make a dash for the door. She paused. Was she being foolish or was there really someone in here with her? She listened. Was that breathing she heard or was it the beating of her own heart?
“I have found you at last,” a strange voice spoke to her in Turkish.
She stood as if frozen, when a dark-skinned man stepped into the ring of light. “You may be in disguise, but I know you are the daughter of the English Rose.”
“Who…are you?” She cringed in terror. “What are you doing in my cabin?”
“I am the man who has been sent by Admiral Kainardji to end your life. After all the trouble you have caused, did you expect to escape?” He moved closer to her. “Do not scream or make a sound. I am an experienced assassin, and I can slit your throat without you even feeling it.”
Brittany made a quick lunge for the door, but the man had anticipated her movement and intercepted her before she reached freedom.
Hard, cruel hands bit into her tender flesh, and she looked into sadistic black eyes that were hardly visible beneath dark, heavy eyebrows.
The assassin’s thin lips became even thinner when he smiled. “Would you fly away, little bird, before I discovered what there is about you that makes the sultan desire you so? Some say your mother is the weaver of magic spells. Are you the same as she?”
Brittany drew back in fear, not daring to look again into those pitiless eyes. “What…will you do to me?”
His eyes moved down her throat to fasten on her young breasts that were visible through her thin chemise. “Before I carry out my master’s orders, I will taste the delights of your body, daughter of the English Rose. Perhaps you will make me as happy as your mother makes the Grand Vizier.”
“No,” she whispered through trembling lips.
“Yes,” he said, running his hand across her breasts. “I die today, too, little rose, because I cannot leave this ship alive, but I die with the taste of you on my mouth.”
Unleashed fear gnawed at her insides. This man wanted more than her life, and much more than she was willing to give. She lashed out at him, her flying hand catching hard across his jaw!
For a moment she thought he would release her, but he muttered an oath, and his grip tightened even more. She cringed as the rough hands with black hair on the knuckles moved up her leg, bringing her chemise up to her thigh.
“No,” she cried, struggling against his superior strength. “Let me go!”
“We shall be together in death this day,” he muttered, his lips traveling down her throat.
Her reaction was swift and accurate. As she struck out at him a second time, the slap she delivered to his face rang across the cabin.
Now the man’s anger was out of control. He shoved her down on the floor, his fumbling hands tearing at her clothing. He was so caught up in his anger and passion that he did not hear the door open behind him—he did not see the captain of the
Victorious
with a murderous glint in his eyes.
Brittany stared into Thorn Stoddard’s blue eyes, and a whimper escaped her lips. “Help me,” she cried piteously. “Please help me.”
The Turk suddenly released his hold on Brittany and jumped to his feet. He swiftly turned on Thorn, brandishing an evil-looking, broad-blade scimitar.
With a swift reflex, Thorn gripped the arm that held the blade. For long moments, the two men pitted their raw strength against each other. At times the sharp blade would come close to Thorn’s throat, then he would push it away and the Turk would have to hold it away from his own throat.
Brittany watched in horror as the two men struggled for supremacy. She feared for the captain’s life because the Turk was a trained killer. The assassin’s bulging muscles quivered as he twisted the blade and thrust it toward Thorn’s exposed chest. In a swift and lethal motion, Thorn sidestepped the thrust and yanked his foe forward, plunging the blade of the scimitar into the Turk’s chest.
For a moment there was a startled expression on the Turk’s face, then a look of disbelief twisted his features. With blood streaming down his dark skin, he fell to his knees, the sword still embedded in his chest.
Thorn gripped the ivory handle, and with a quick upward thrust, buried the blade even deeper. The Turk slumped to the floor, his legs twitched, and then he lay still.
When Thorn stepped over the body of the assassin, he glared at Brittany. “What in the hell has been going on here?” he demanded. “How did this man come to be on board the
Victorious
? He is not one of my crew.”
Thorn suddenly averted his eyes when he saw that the girl was making a futile attempt to cover her nakedness. “Do you know this man?” Thorn asked.
“I have not seen him before, but he said he was sent by Admiral Kainardji with orders to…slay me.”
Thorn touched the body with the toe of his black boot. “He will not harm you now. He is dead,” he said gently.
By now Cappy and two others had heard the scuffling, and they appeared at the door with startled expressions on their faces.
Thorn nodded toward the body. “Get him out of here and throw him overboard.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Cappy replied, taking charge and motioning for the two crew members to lift the body. He smiled
encouragingly at Brittany before shoving the man out of the cabin and closing the door behind him.
Thorn saw that the girl had pulled the coverlet from the bed to cover herself. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I was more frightened than hurt,” she assured him, taking a faltering step and finding her legs would not hold her weight.
When her knees buckled beneath her, Thorn scooped her up and held her in his arms. Brittany laid her head against his broad shoulder, finding comfort there. “I was so frightened. He was going to…to—”
Thorn felt the trembling of her body. He wanted to kill the man again for putting his hands on her. He wanted to always be the one to protect her from harm so she would never have to be frightened again.
“Are you certain you were not hurt?” he asked, looking into her wondrous green eyes.
“I was not hurt, but if you had not come when you did, I do not know what would have—” She shivered.
“I was passing your cabin when I heard the scuffle. Try not to think about it. You are safe now.”
She could sense his strength, and it filled her whole being. She clung to him, fearful that he would put her down. “Please hold me,” she pleaded.
He sat down on the edge of the bunk, cradling her in his arms as if she were a frightened child. “Nothing will hurt you while I am here,” he said with assurance. “You know the intruder is dead.”
She shivered. “It was horrible. I wish I could get the sight of it out of my mind.”
“Think of something pleasant.”
“I cannot.”
When Thorn shifted Brittany’s weight, she cried out in pain. When he gave her an inquiring look, she pushed the strap of her chemise aside, and there was the telltale sign of a bruise—already the skin was discolored. He touched it tenderly. “I thought you said you weren’t hurt.”
“It is nothing that will not heal with the passing of time,” she assured him. “I am just grateful that it was not worse.” Her eyes softened. “I have so much to thank you for. It seems every time I am in trouble, you come to my rescue. Once again, I am in your debt.”
He smiled. “It seems you are always in trouble.”
She returned his smile. “It does seem that way. But that is nothing new in my life.”
Thorn found he was watching her lips, wondering what it would feel like to press them to his mouth. He lightly touched her midnight-black hair, unconsciously winding a curl around his finger.
Brittany felt his chest expand with a sharp intake of breath as his eyes traveled from her shoulder to the rise of her breasts where the material had been torn away. She did not move to cover herself, but gazed into his eyes, trying to see if he was feeling the warmth flowing through his body as she did.
“Damn you,” he murmured, pulling her close to him and resting his cheek against her sweet-smelling hair. “You know what you’re doing to me. You know I have been intrigued with you from the beginning. Everything about you is different from all other women—your eyes, the way you walk, the way you purse your mouth when you are deep in thought.”
Emotions he had not even admitted to himself came pouring out of him. His lips brushed across the bridge of her nose. The hand that had wielded the deadly sword now caressed her with a gentleness she had not expected. The lips that had curled in anger now touched hers as softly as butterfl y wings. The body that had leaped to battle in her defense was now pressed against hers, and she lost all ability to reason. She wanted to throw off the clothing that kept him from touching his hot flesh to hers.
“Sweet little enchantress.” The words seemed to be ripped from his lips. “Have you no mercy for me?”
“I…do not know what you—”
“Don’t play innocent with me. We both know you are not.”
She blinked her eyes. “I have not—”
“Are you certain you did not entice that poor devil into your trap?” he whispered against her ear. “Did you make him mindless with wanting you?”
She shook her head, wondering how he could think such a thing of her. “I did not know the man. He was evil, and he made me afraid.”
“How many others have you enticed with your body and your smile—certainly Lord Simijin, apparently the sultan.”
“No, I never—”
His hand moved to her chin, and he forced her to look into his eyes. “What is it that draws me to you? Did you set out to make me your conquest?”
“No,” she whispered through trembling lips. “I am not that way.”
He pulled her closer, his hands running caressingly across her dark skin, absorbing the feel of her into his mind, wanting her—aching to possess her. When his eyes fell on the pool of blood that had seeped into the cracks of the floor, he was brought back to his senses.
Brittany was startled when Thorn pulled her chemise together and placed her on the bed. He rose to his feet and smiled down at her. “So ends this argument,” he said in a deep voice. “Henceforth, you might do well to keep your distance from men, me in particular. You see how it is with me. Next time, I may not be so willing to stop. You have already conquered the hearts of two men; you will not add mine to that number.”
She wanted to scream and fly at him, for the words he spoke had wounded her more deeply than the knife thrust he had delivered to the luckless Turk. “I will detest you forever, Captain Stoddard.”
He smiled. “Good. Hate is an emotion I can deal with. I half feared you might be indifferent to me, and I wouldn’t want that.”
She turned away, wishing she had never laid eyes on this obstinate man. “Leave me or I shall have Simijin cut your head off.”
He laughed and clicked his tongue. “My, my, what a bloodthirsty little temptress you are. Was the life of one man not enough to satisfy you tonight? Must you have my blood on your hands as well?”
She whirled around, her breasts heaving from her anger. “It was you who slew the Turk, when you could have clapped him in irons and tortured him.”
Amusement danced in his blue eyes. “Pity that thought never occurred to me while I was wrestling for my life. Had I known that you wanted him tortured, I might have spared him for you.”
Her hands went to her hips, and she glared at him. “You are a hateful man.”
His eyes raked her softly curved body. “And you, madame, are in a state of undress. Shouldn’t you cover yourself—or is it your intention to tempt me?”
She whirled around, picked up the pillow from the bed, and threw it at him. The fluffy missile shot harmlessly past Thorn’s head as he agilely ducked out of the way. With amusement dancing in his eyes, he moved out of the cabin, his laughter ringing through the door he closed behind him.
Brittany’s face was flushed with anger. Were most men as unendurable as Thorn Stoddard? Perhaps Simijin was more exceptional than she had thought, for she had never seen him torment her mother as the captain tormented her.
Hot tears scalded her eyes, and she slumped down on the bunk, refusing to look at the pool of blood on the floor.
After a while, Brittany washed her face, tied back her hair, and pulled on her gown. She would sit with Achmed tonight, for she knew she would not sleep a wink after all that had happened.