Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] (46 page)

“ ’E looks an awful lot like the other one now,” the dark-haired pirate said, eyeing Roc up and down.

“What other one?” Logan demanded.

Roc tensed; Skye felt it as his arms tightened around her.

“ ’E looks like the high-and-mighty lord, like his kinsman, Cameron.”

“You’ve seen Cameron?” Logan said sharply.

“At a distance, aboard his ship.” The dark-haired fellow grinned. “Eh, Logan! ’E’s trying to look like her husband; he’s trying to be a gentleman.”

Logan cackled, bending over. Roc’s fingers tightened on Skye’s arm. “Not a word!” he warned her. “Not a word!”

“I should let him skewer you!” she hissed.

“Then think, milady, of what he will do to you!” Roc warned softly. Icy trails sped along her back. He was right. Whatever her anger, he was right.

“And don’t he look pretty, minus the whiskers!” Logan said at last. “Didn’t work, though, eh, Captain? Not from what I heard. The lady ain’t too pleasured to be with you!”

“She’s pleasured enough.”

“Then come on,” Logan said, his eyes riveted on the both of them suspiciously. “We go to Teach, and we sign our agreements. Don’t you go against me, not a hair, Hawk. I’ll shoot her down where she stands if you betray me, and that will be a fact.”

“I won’t betray you, not on this.”

“Then walk!” Logan commanded.

Roc turned, seeing the direction that Logan indicated. Skye pulled back.

“Where’s my father?” she demanded of Logan. “Is he alive? Have you harmed him?”

“He’s alive, and his dignity is ruffled, and perhaps he has a bruise or two. That’s it, milady. Now, if you will please? There’s a feast going on behind those dunes, and we’ll be a part of it this night. Move, Hawk.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Skye insisted.

“What?” the Hawk demanded.

“Bring me my father. I’m going to sit right here until you prove to me that he’s alive.”

Logan looked to Roc. “Get her moving, Hawk. Or we’ll end it here and now.”

“If you kill my father,” Skye cried, “then I will not care.”

“Move her!” Logan ordered.

Roc dipped low, striking her in the midriff with his shoulder and tossing her over. “Stop it!” she railed, beating against his back. “Stop it, put me down, don’t you see that he’ll kill you anyway! We have to—”

“We have to shut up!” Roc roared to her. He spun around, searching out Logan. “Lead the way, damn you, will you, please!”

Logan, cackling, stepped forward. He started out walking and Roc followed. Skye continued to protest, rising against him, until he slammed down hard on her rump portion. The action did not hurt her so much, but it reminded her that she was very poorly clad, and that her position was very precarious.

Life
had become precarious.

But she didn’t trust Logan, and she was certain that Roc had gone mad. He didn’t intend to hand her over to Logan, but he did intend to hand her over to Teach, to Blackbeard, while he went off to get killed by Logan himself. It was insanity.

She fell silent as they walked along the dunes. It seemed that they walked forever and ever. The water, though, was always at their side. Pirates needed water, she thought. The land was death; the water was their salvation, their escape.

What was Roc planning …?

“Hear the music?” Logan asked suddenly. He spoke to Roc, who grunted. Skye strained to hear, and the sounds of a fiddle came surely her way. The music grew louder and louder as they walked.

Then she pushed against Roc’s shoulder and saw that they had come to a small shanty village. Sparse, crooked buildings made carelessly of thatch and logs lay about a beach where dozens of longboats had been drawn.

Dozens of spits had been set up on the beach. Joints of beef and pork turned and roasted upon the spits, along with numerous fowl and venison. Huge kegs lay about; kegs of ale, Skye thought.

There was a platform in the center of the shantytown. Edward Teach, Blackbeard, with his chinful of illustrious whiskers, sat there as if he sat upon a throne. Before him stood the fiddlers, tapping their toes to the music.

And upon the platform, a woman danced.

She was black-haired, with a lithe slim figure, a startling grace, and a full, firm bosom that rose high against her cotton blouse. She was barefoot and laughing, and she danced like a young doe, like a healthy young animal. The men watched her and cheered.

She was not the only woman there. Others sprawled about with men, leaning against kegs, falling beneath the platform, sitting on the porches of the shanties.

Logan stood behind Roc and smiled at Skye as she lay high against her husband’s shoulders.

“The ball, milady, the pirates’ grand ball! Welcome. We do not often dare to come so brazenly together on the mainland, but then certain figures of power in North Carolina have been known to turn deaf ears to the sounds of our musicians! Isn’t it grand? Not many silks, not many satins, and the petticoats are limited, but we do enjoy ourselves! Welcome!”

There was something about his eyes so hideous that she shivered.

Roc spun around to face Logan. “Remember,” Logan warned him. “You play anything other than straight with Blackbeard, and I will shoot and kill this girl who means so little to you!”

“I’ll play it fair. Go.”

“You go. I’ll follow behind with my pistol cocked and aimed for the lady’s back. And don’t forget. A good number of the men you see about will be off of my ship.”

“I’ll remember,” Roc said. He started to walk. Skye clung to him. Drunken men pointed their way. Some laughed. Some called out. “It’s the Hawk! It’s the Hawk, and ’e’s brought a lady here, can you imagine.” Chortles rose up, ringing upon the air. “Damme, but the man would dare anything, anything at all.”

“My pistol’s aimed at her back, remember!” Logan said.

Roc kept walking. As they neared the platform, Blackbeard’s attention was drawn to them, and he leaped to his feet. “What? Ho, there, it’s the Hawk, is it not? Aye, and with the lass I was ever so charmed to meet as of late!” His big, bellowing voice rose over the music and over the sounds of the dance. Blackbeard pulled his pipe from his mouth and reached for Roc’s hand. “Welcome! We’d thought you’d avoid this place, since you don’t much care for the Carolinas, sir! Do you see my Carlotta? My latest ‘wife’—she dances for me now. Sit and watch, enjoy. Now there’s some warm blood for you, me boy!”

Logan stepped around Roc. “We’ve come for you to be mediator. The Hawk is my prisoner. He’s to take me to a treasure, if you see the girl home. We’ve agreed it, sworn upon it.”

Roc set Skye down upon her feet. Blackbeard gave her a captivating smile. “Lady Kinsdale—no, Cameron, I’ve heard. Anyway, my lady, you’re most welcome here! A flower among us dregs of humanity, and I do mean it!”

“Teach, will you swear to me to see her home?” Roc demanded.

“With my blood. You carry out your bargain, and I’ll see her home. I’ve no wish to hurt a woman, sir, of that you are well aware.”

“But
he
comes with me!” Logan cried. “I want it agreed in blood!”

“Raise your arm!” Blackbeard commanded to Roc.

Roc lifted his arm. Blackbeard took his knife and Skye could
not help but cry out as the pirate slashed her husband’s arm. A trail of blood oozed out. Roc did not protest; he didn’t say a word. Blackbeard slashed his own arm and placed it next to Roc’s. “Sealed in blood. You owe Logan, and by my honor, I owe you. Now tell me, Hawk, how did you let this scurvy piece of dog meat get the best of you?”

“There’s no excuse, Teach. He just did.”

Blackbeard swirled around to Skye. “Come, sit with me, we’ll drink together.

“I’ve no wish to drink with you or any of your kind!” Skye spat out.

“A feisty one, yes, I do say!” Blackbeard laughed. He leaned low against her. “Girl, I’m all the hope you’ve got here, do you understand?” He raised his voice then. “Hawk! You come, too.”

“He’s my prisoner, bound by blood—” Logan began.

“Yes, but this is my party, my pirate’s ball, and I’ll not have you leaving with my guests, not tonight. Hawk, you play out your devil’s bargain in the morning, and God and Satan be with you both! For now, come with the girl, and watch my beloved dance!”

He pulled the two of them along to join him on his platform. Skye was dragged down beside him on the one side and Roc on the other. The fury of the music increased to a tempestuous tempo. The girl danced ever more swiftly.

A mug was pressed into Skye’s hands. She looked into the drunken eyes of a middle-aged, buxom woman with her bodice torn in two. The woman smiled and started to laugh. “Dearie, dearie, a lady! We’ve a lady among us! Let us take her, Blackbeard, and she’ll not be a lady much longer, I’ll warrant.”

The woman reached for Skye, tearing at her bodice, Skye screamed, trying to draw away. Her chair fell over. Her head cracked against the platform, and she was dazed.

“No!” There was another sound of thunder as a second chair fell back. Roc was on his feet. He came to stand before her, his booted feet planted hard, his hands upon his hips. “She’s mine; she’s mine this night, and she’s Blackbeard’s promise of safe conduct when this night is over. No one
touches her. No one but me. She’s mine, and ’tis my night, and I’ll have her in peace from the lot of you scurvies and whores!”

He bent down and lifted her from the floor. “No!” she whispered in desperation.

He barely glanced her way but turned to Blackbeard. “This is your party, Captain Teach! I’m your guest this night, and would request quarters, sir, if I may!”

The pirate Blackbeard laughed and nodded. “Aye, Captain Hawk! If it’s a dead man you’re to be, you should have this night! Every man gets a last request before the gallows!”

“Wait!” Logan protested. “I did not say—”

“Tomorrow, Logan, you may take the Hawk. Your prisoner, sir! Tonight, he gets his last request!”

Blackbeard indicated a building fifty yards from the platform on the beach. Roc leaped down from the platform with her in his arms and began striding toward the waterfront shanty. Pirates and their doxies applauded and laughed.

“She’s a tough one, Captain!”

“Aye, there, lad, feisty but fun!” Roc agreed. Skye hit him, slapping him just as hard as he had slapped her against the cheek. She was just barely aware of the guffaws rising from the pirates sprawled about them with their half-clad drunken whores.

“Take her, Captain!”

Roc, staring at her with fire in his eyes, quickly replied, “I intend to, lad, I intend to!” He lowered her down. Skye screamed, shocked and alarmed as she fell hard upon the sand. He bounded down upon her, seizing her hair in a rough grip, holding her still to his pleasure as he ravaged her lips with his mouth, all the while raking his hands over her breasts.

Laughter arose, whistles and catcalls. He leaped up, jerking her back to her feet, then forcefully into his arms. “I intend to this very minute, lads!” he cried.

“No …!” she gasped. Her lips were swollen and bruised and she had never seen such reckless disregard in him before. She gritted her teeth and beat against him in a sudden, desperate fear.

“No!”

“Shut up! Damn you, shut up!”

His eyes lit upon hers, silver and hard. “Open your mouth again and I swear you shall learn something of brute force this very night!”

Skye opened her mouth. She shivered uncontrollably but fell silent to the warning in his eyes.

And Roc dashed up the steps to the shanty and kicked open the door. She was alone again with him, with the pirate, with the lord. With her lover, with her husband.

Alone …

With the very devil himself …

XVII

R
oc kicked the door closed and set Skye down. For a second she remained perfectly still, for shadows fell all around them, and she was frightened of a terrible darkness falling.

Darkness did not come. It was barely afternoon, she thought. She spun around, stared at Roc, and moved away from him, running quickly to the wall, setting her back against it.

He glanced her way with a certain disdain and fell against the door himself, sinking down before it. His eyes closed wearily, then shot open and stared at her with immense displeasure. He pointed a finger at her. “You! You little bitch! You’re going to get us both killed!”