Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] (18 page)

I am your prisoner! she wanted to shout out to them. Had you let me be, I’d have offered you no harm!

But she didn’t open her mouth. She waited in silence, and then she realized that they were all waiting with anxiety, and she, as well as the men, was worrying about the Hawk.

Worrying about a man who would probably flay every inch of her flesh from her bones …

“All clear!” he called suddenly from far above them. She nearly screamed, she was so startled. He held a lantern far above his head, and in the night he watched her, his eyes nearly fathomless within the curious shadows of his face.

“Come along, Lady Kinsdale,” Robert told her gruffly. Numb and frightened, she obeyed, reaching for the ladder. She faltered nearing the top of the rope. The Hawk reached down to her, dragging her over the hull of the ship. She nearly fell. He held her up and pulled her against him.

The men climbed aboard the ship. The Hawk shoved her toward Robert. “See that she is locked in,” he said briefly. Robert took her arm and started toward the captain’s cabin.

She turned back, opening her mouth to speak. She didn’t know what she meant to say and words caught in her throat. He was watching her. Watching her by moonlight, his hands upon his hips, his face now in the shadows.

Then he turned away from her.

Robert swung open the doors and thrust her into the darkened cabin. He didn’t pause. He slammed the doors and bolted them without a thought.

The darkness closed around her.

Skye wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes tightly and sank to the floor. She tried to fight it. With all of her heart she tried to fight the fear that was overwhelming
her. She felt as if the walls moved, as if they came around her, as if they would close upon her.

They wanted to hurt her, she reminded herself. Hawk and all his men were bitter against her for the havoc and death they believed she’d caused. She needed to be still, to be silent, to pray that they would forget her here within the cabin.…

Logic did her no good. The fear was not a rational fear, it was not something that she could control. The night seemed so black; she could not breathe, she could not see, she could not help the sensations that spilled upon her. Sweat broke out upon her brow and goose bumps rose all over her skin. It was sweeping over her, wave after wave of awful, terrible and primal fear.…

She wasn’t aware at all of what she did. In total terror she cast back her head and started to scream as if she were encountering the very demons of hell.

The door burst open. Dimly she was aware of the light. Even more dimly, she was aware of the figure of the man silhouetted there within its glow.

He moved quickly, coming down upon the ground beside her. She didn’t know how long she had been in the darkness, ensnared within the web of fear. She was aware that he held her, but she shook violently still. He rocked her, but she stared into the night with open eyes. His arms came more tightly around her and he lifted her, holding her close as he strode quickly about the room, lighting the lanterns.

He sat with her upon the bunk. He whispered to her, and she didn’t hear the words, but the cadence of his voice worked its way into her heart. Slowly, the icy chill left her. She ceased to shiver, and shook only in an occasional spasm. She blinked, and then she was able to close her eyes, and then she leaned against him, sobbing softly.

His fingers moved over her hair. “It’s all right, it’s all right. I am here,” he whispered.

Perhaps that was the very moment when things would forever change for her. No matter what was to come between them in the future, whether fear or anger or hatred burned in her heart, she would not be able to forget that moment.

“What is it?” he murmured. “What is it that you fear more deeply than death?”

“The darkness,” she said softly.

“What of the darkness?” he said.

But that she could not answer, and he did not press her, but sighed. His muscles constricted suddenly as if he would move. Her fingers wound into his shirt. His own closed around them. “I told you that it was all right. That I am here.”

He eased her fingers from him and stretched her out upon the bed. She bit into her lower lip, letting her lashes shield her eyes. He strode across the room and she heard the clink of glass. A moment later he was back, lifting her head. He teased her lips with the snifter of brandy and she swallowed. He crawled to the back of the bunk, leaning against the paneling and bringing her head down upon his lap. He sipped the brandy himself, then lifted her head once more, and this time she swallowed deeply. The brandy burned throughout her. It warmed her. She gasped and fell back again, her lashes heavy over her eyes.

He studied her, staring down at the perfect oval beauty of her face and the softness of her skin, ashen then. Even her lips remained pale. He traced them with his finger. Her eyes flew open. Glistening turquoise, they held fever and torment. Her lips trembled slightly. “I am sorry about your Frenchman,” she said softly. “He was kind.”

“I am sorry, too. He was a good man.”

“He was a pirate,” she said gravely. “At least, now, he shall not come to hang.”

“As I shall?” he demanded softly.

Her lashes fell upon her eyes once more, covering them. “As you shall!” she whispered. But she did not say the words with venom, just with a terrible certainty.

The Hawk twirled the remaining brandy in its crystal snifter, watching the swirl of amber liquid. He smiled with a certain irony, then sighed and sat back. He needed to be on deck. He did not care to test the reefs by darkness—many a careless captain had lost his vessel and his life upon the deadly coral—and so they needed to keep a sharp guard until morning. Perhaps the trouble was over; perhaps it was not. He would wait
until the morning to see if the business deals he’d negotiated with Stoker were still valid. Then he would ride the outgoing afternoon tide and hurry for Bone Cay.

He did not want to leave her, he realized.

His fingers fell upon her hair again. It was tousled and still sticky from her bout in the sea. It was still beautiful, still the color of a sunset.

She did not move beneath his touch. He waited a few moments longer, then eased her down upon a pillow. He rose carefully and walked back over to his desk. He poured out another two fingers of brandy and swiftly swallowed it down.

He stared at her pensively, then he forced himself to come about and return to his deck, and his command.

When Skye awoke, daylight was streaming into the cabin. The draperies were drawn far back.

She rose stiffly. She could feel the dried salt upon her body and her hair.

The ship was moving.

She leaped out of bed and hurried to the windows. Looking out, she saw that the ship sluiced swiftly through the water. They were leaving the island of New Providence behind.

Even as she sat upon the window seat, staring out, the door burst open. She swiveled quickly to face the Hawk as he entered the cabin, eyeing her as he carefully closed the door behind him. She almost offered him a wavering smile, but it faded before it ever came to her face. His tenderness and care of the night before were gone. She faced a cold taskmaster that morning, one who seemed without mercy.

He did not speak. He sat behind his desk and rubbed his bearded chin, staring at her.

“We have left the island,” Skye said.

“Aye, milady, we left the island. You, mam’selle, made my position quite untenable there.”

She rose, her fingers clenching by her side. Did he want her to feel guilty? By daylight, she was able to fight. “Sir, you have made my position quite untenable!”

“Have I?” he asked her. Dark lashes fell over his eyes, then
his searing silver gaze swept her once again. “So untenable, mam’selle, that you would have preferred Logan?”

“Logan, One-Eyed Jack, the Silver Hawk, Blackbeard, pirates one and all.”

He pushed his seat away from the desk and stood, walking around to lean upon the edge of it. “I was able to complete my business this morning despite your antics, Skye. Supplies were delivered to the ship along with a few offers. One fool fellow is still willing to pay me a thousand Spanish gold doubloons for you. Perhaps I should oblige him.”

She gritted her teeth. “Perhaps you should.”

“Tell, me, mam’selle, are you worth it?”

“What?”

“Are you worth a thousand gold doubloons?”

“According to you, sir, I have no more worth than any other woman, and as I saw last night, the tavern was crawling with women. Of course, I daresay that things do also crawl upon those women, but then, what is that to one of your … persuasion.”

He crossed his arms slowly over his chest. “I may well have saved your life, you know.”

“And I may well have saved yours.”

He burst out laughing and came toward her, pulling her into his arms. “So you saved my life, did you?”

She pressed against his chest, seeking to free herself. “I cast you my sword—”

“You cast me your sword! Why even in the moment of greatest distress, I had to snatch it from you! Imagine, milady! I offer my throat to a dangerous murderer on your behalf—I find myself at odds with every man in the brotherhood—and you have the audacity to claim that you saved my life!”

She pressed more firmly against him. His smile faded. “We have just cast Jacques and Hornby to their graves within the sea, milady.”

She swallowed, lowering her lashes. Her palms remained pressed against him. “I am your prisoner. I must attempt escape—”

An oath of such vehemence escaped him that her eyes flew to his. “You would escape me—into Logan’s arms? Tell me,
do I beat you? Starve you? Why is it, mam’selle, that you would escape to a man who would treat you with total disregard and violence?”

“Let me go!” she whispered feverishly.

He did not let her go. He fingered a lock of her hair, and then he moved against her, his lips searing her throat and touching her shoulder. She gasped, startled by the touch, stunned by the sensation.

He stepped away from her suddenly, and his eyes were bright. He swept his hand from his head and gave her a sweeping bow. “Perhaps, mam’selle, you are worth a thousand gold doubloons,” he told her.

Her hand fluttered to her throat. His gaze swept her up and down in a fashion that left her feeling naked and afire inside. Then he arched a brow and scratched his bearded chin.

“Not as it stands, I think. Dear woman, you do, decidedly, need a bath.”

With a vicious oath, she threw the pillow from the window seat at him. He caught the pillow, smiling.

“For your entertainment? No!” she snapped.

“We’ll arrive at Bone Cay at nightfall,” he told her softly. “Home.”

“Should that please me?” she demanded.

“It pleases me. And who knows? Perhaps I shall seek to determine whether you are worth the trouble you have cost me.”

“You, sir, have caused
me
the trouble!”

“Worth a thousand gold doubloons,” he murmured.

“My father will pay—”

“Ah, but has he the purse?”

“If not, then my fiancé will pay. Lord Cameron is one of the wealthiest men in the Virginia Colony.”

“But I do believe that he is aware of your feelings toward your impending nuptials, mam’selle. And, alas, all men are not so eager to pursue vixens who despise them.”

“I do not despise Lord Cameron,” she said coolly.

“Don’t you? Well, I am sure that such words would truly warm his heart! Lady Kinsdale, this is enchanting, but you must excuse me. We come ever nearer Bone Cay, but I fear
that Logan is either so enamored of you or hostile toward me that he may seek an engagement upon the sea. I am needed.”

He bowed deeply and turned to leave her. At the door he paused and turned back, and amusement curled his lip. “I shall send men with the tub and water.”

“You needn’t. I rather like the way that I am since it does not please you!”

The smile stayed upon his lips. “Lady Kinsdale, I am giving you a direct order.”

“And I—” She broke off, for he was returning to the room. He sat upon the edge of the desk, waiting. “What are you doing?” she cried.

“If you cannot obey a simple order, then I shall stay to assist you.”

“You just said that you fear an attack!”

“Let Logan come with his guns blazing! If this is how you will have it be, then this is one war that I will wage first.” He raised his voice. “Robert! Mr. Arrowsmith. I need you!”

Skye stared at him and knew that he meant every word, no matter how dramatically each was spoken. She stamped a foot upon the floor. “Go!” she breathed in fury. “Go! I shall just live and breathe, Captain, to obey your slightest order!”

He smiled. “Good,” he said pleasantly, and jumped down from his desk. He turned at the door, and she saw the sizzle of amusement in his eyes, and she realized that more than anything, he taunted her. He’d offered the bath for her comfort, and not his own entertainment.

He had come to her against the terror of the night.

He was her enemy. Her deadly enemy. But he was a curious man, and she could not deny his courage, his determination.…

Or his strange tolerance and his even stranger tenderness. In her greatest hour of need, he had offered comfort.

“Mam’selle—” he said, nodding as he opened the door to leave her.

“Wait!” she cried.

He paused, a brow arched. She lowered her eyes.

“Yes, mam’selle?”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?” he repeated, amazed.

“For the lights,” she whispered.

It seemed that he paused a very long time. “You are most heartily welcome, mam’selle,” he said at last. Then he left her, and the door closed.

Robert came with coffee and rolls, and then he and a number of sailors trudged in with the hip bath and water. She felt the men watching her. Blue eyes, green, brown, and hazel, they all fell upon her. Old men, young men, thin and ruddy, they stared at her as they came and went. They despised her, she thought.

But when she dared to look up, she did not think that they hated her so. The last man to leave the cabin bowed her way. “You fought well last night, Lady Kinsdale!” he said. He smiled deeply. “A lady, and ye dared take Blackbeard’s own sword against him!”