Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers (11 page)

“So, would you care to?”

“To what?”

He caught her around the waist to pull her close. “Make up.”

“Now?”

“Why not? The lights don’t always have to be out to make love, my lady. Sometimes it’s even better to be a bit — ah — improper, as it were.”

“Is that so?”

He bent close to nuzzle her. “Absolutely.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

He kissed her lightly. “Think it over.”

She screwed up her face, as if concentrating with all her might. Drew laughed and began nibbling at her throat, teasingly chanting, “Think it over.”

She burst out laughing and wound her arms about his neck. He didn’t wait for her reply, but lifted her easily to spirit her to the bed.

Chapter Sixteen

As she had asked, Drew found her something to do to keep her busy during the days. He brought her a basket overflowing with torn shirts, breeches with split seams, and woolen stockings in need of darning. Although she wasn’t terribly skilled with a needle and thread, she learned quickly. She spent many a pleasant hour curled up in a chair by the stove, stitching seams and mending tears for the
Triton’s
crew.

The nights she spent cradled in his arms. As they moved into the chilly waters of the North Atlantic, she was grateful for the warmth his body offered, and he put out an awful lot of heat. She hardly needed blankets when she snuggled against the solid bulk of his body. It made for a pleasant night’s rest and she slept better than she had in months, perhaps even years.

After breakfast on the twelfth day, Drew escorted her topside to take in the sunshine.

She took a deep breath, enjoying the tangy salt air and the gentle spray on her face. It made her hair stiff, but she didn’t mind. One barrel of rainwater remained. Surely there would be enough for her to bathe with later.

She turned to him. “This is so much nicer than a storm. So much better, indeed.”

He chuckled, gazing out over the water. “I imagine it is to you. Sometimes, nothing compares to doing battle with the elements. Man versus nature and all that. Makes you appreciate what life has to offer.”

She didn’t miss the look he gave her as he said the last part. She gave him a tender smile. “Is that so?”

“Very much so. A man facing death learns an entirely new appreciation for life.”

“Well, I prefer to not face death, if it’s all the same to you.”

He laughed as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “You have nothing to fear, my lady. I promise to never put you in harm’s way if I can possibly avoid it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Would you care for a tour?”

“I would love one.”

It proved to be a fascinating afternoon for Heather. Drew took pride in his ship and was patient in answering even her inane questions. She was impressed with his knowledge and by the respect his crew showed toward him. She had the feeling these men would put their lives on the line for their captain without hesitation. Each man addressed the other with formality, but camaraderie and friendship lurked beneath the politeness and respect.

It was interesting to see what made a ship such as the
Triton
run. Each man had a specific duty — right down to who cared for the sails and yardarms. And each man took his job with the utmost seriousness.

At the end of the tour, Drew turned to her. “Any more questions, Miss Morgan?”

“Did I ask too many?” She gave his arm a squeeze. He’d been patient with her endless questions, even the ones that must have seemed so silly to him. Even now, he smiled, his hand coming down to cover hers.

“Not at all. It isn’t often someone takes such an interest in the
Triton
.” He leaned in and brushed her hair with his lips. “Unfortunately, I need to get back to work now, love. Why don’t you go down below and take a nap?” His voice grew soft. “I plan on keeping you up far too late this evening.”

“Very well,” she said. “I will leave you to your work.”

“Ah, today I belong to the
Triton
. But this evening, love, I will belong solely to you.”

He brushed her lips with a kiss and strode off toward the quarterdeck. She watched him walk away, admiring the grace with which he carried himself. She turned back to face the water. There was something so very peaceful about the endless ocean around her. The sunlight sparkled as it danced off the water’s surface. Occasionally she would see a spout of water burst up, which always brought a smile to her face.

The first time she saw such a spout, Drew explained it was a whale, and since then, she scanned the water’s surface in the hopes of seeing the elusive creatures up close. But she never saw more than the spray.

She moved away from the railing, crossing the deck to the doorway leading below deck. She’d become adept at walking on board, something Drew referred to as getting her
sea legs
. She barely felt the movement of the ship. Except at night, when the gentle rocking helped her drift off to sleep.

Drew’s cabin was quiet. Peaceful. That quiet helped settle her mind some as she locked the door, then curled up in a chair by the window, where she preferred to do her reading. The nap was a surprise, as was the odd creaking outside the door.

She sat upright as the door handle rattled. “Drew?”

He didn’t answer, and the handle went still. She rubbed one eye, willing the fog to lift from her sleepy brain. It refused to abate, her eyelids sliding shut against her will. They snapped open when the rattle resumed.

“Drew?” This time, the drowsiness fled as she rose to go to the door. The key rattled in the lock as she turned it, and the door groaned in protest when she tugged it open. “I’m sorry I locked the door. I didn’t I’d fall aslee — ”

The word turned to dust on her lips as she stared into icy blue eyes just beyond the barrel of a pistol.

Chapter Seventeen

Heather’s stomach clenched as Henry lowered the flintlock. An arrogant sneer curled his lip. “Happy to see me, whore?”

How the deuce had he gotten out of the doctor’s cabin? Heather’s gaze bounced about the room in search of an avenue of escape, but there was none. He stood between her and the door. Her blood ran cold as he spoke, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. All she could think about was the pistol, the closed door, and how far out of earshot Drew was.

“I asked you a question,” Henry snarled. He stepped closer. “I asked if you were happy to see me.”

“Y-you leave me be,” she stammered, staring at the pistol in his hand.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “You’re only a whore after all. Captain won’t mind sharing you. Why, I’ll wager he’s probably shared you with dozens of men. I ain’t no different.”

His flat, cold eyes sent a chill through her. Still, she forced herself to hold his stare. “You are wrong. Th-There have b-been no others.”

“Of course there ain’t. But you’re a whore.” His voice was mild, his shrug half-hearted. “Who can believe the word of a whore? I’m sure the captain jollies you along. Tells you what you want to hear. He likes to think of himself as some terrific gentleman.”

“He is very much the gentleman, I’ll have you know.”

“Please, do you think you’re the only whore he’s ever brought on board? Christ, lady, you’re dumber than you look. You ain’t special to him, y’know. You have no reason to think you are. I’m surprised he ain’t passed you around already. It’s what he usually does.”

“No.” She slowly shook her head. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t care if you believe me. It don’t matter.” Henry stepped closer. “Take off that fancy gown.”

“No.”

He cocked the flintlock. “Take it off, and get your skinny little self into that bed before I get real impatient.” With the pistol, he motioned toward the bed. “’Less, of course, you like it rough.”

His voice was barely audible above the rushing of her blood in her ears. Her heart banged so hard against her ribs, it actually hurt. Yet, she could only stand there, staring at that damned pistol. It was the first time she ever had a weapon aimed at her, and she held her breath as she waited for him to fire.

His free hand shot out, caught a fistful of her bodice, and he yanked. A muscle burned in her neck as she jerked forward. He lifted her off her feet, to fling her as if she weighed nothing.

Wood groaned, then squeaked, as she hit it with a resounding thud, her undignified, “
Ooof!
” becoming a hoarse scream as he pounced on her. His knee dug into the small of her back, and her scalp burned as he snatched a handful of her hair. A sharp wrench, and her head snapped back.

“Next time I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand? Just like you do the captain.”

The sting spread across her scalp, prickly and hot enough to bring tears to her eyes. His knee ground painfully into her spine. “Please…” her voice cracked as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Please don’t do this.”

“Shut up, whore.”

“Oh!” The pistol’s muzzle jammed her just above where his knee pressed down. A cold sweat broke out over her entire body. The rush inside her skull grew louder. Breathing was impossible. Her bodice tightened about her ribs, the fabric biting into her skin.

Then it tore.

“No!” She arched against him at the first rush of air on her back. “Someone please — help me!”

“Hush!” A burst of white light erupted within her skull as he cuffed her soundly. The light faded, but bells clanged in its place. Her vision swam. Nausea rose sourly in the back of her mouth. She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut, and willed the pain to recede.

But before her head had the chance to clear, he grabbed her by the shoulder to toss her over onto her back. He pinned her arms beneath his knees, set the pistol on the floor alongside his right knee, then gripped the neckline of her bodice to pull the ruined muslin over her shoulders. Shame flooded her as her thin linen shift became the only thing to come between her skin and his eyes. The urge to retch swelled up in her throat.

That grimy hand clamped down over her mouth. He hadn’t bathed in over twelve days and the stench rising from his unwashed body choked her. She managed to swallow her disgust long enough to sink her teeth into his hand.

He howled, yanking his hand away. Then, he backhanded her with fury across one cheekbone. Her teeth rattled as her head jerked to the side and pain burst like starfire in her skull. The moan rose on its own as she stared at the ceiling without seeing it. Henry, however, wasted no time in shoving up her skirts with one hand while rocking back on his knees to unfasten his grimy trousers with the other.

Her dizziness faded as someone rapped on the door. “Heather?”

Relief washed over her at the timbre of Drew’s voice. Forcing the rest of the fog from her brain, she cried, “Drew! He — ”

The door handle rattled. “Heather? What’s going on? Why is this damned door locked?”

“You shut up, bitch!” Henry slammed his palm over her mouth again. “I’ll kill him. I swear I will. Then I’ll kill you.”

Swallowing her disgust, she clamped her teeth down on the fleshy part of his hand. He howled, jerked back, and she took advantage of it to drag in a ragged breath and scream, “
Drew
!”

“Heather!” Drew’s voice rose to a shout and a series of thuds and crashes echoed throughout the cabin.

Henry scrambled for his flintlock. He grabbed it just as the door shattered beneath the force of Drew’s body. The splintered wood sagged on its hinges as he burst through.

“Drew, watch — ”

Her warning came too late. Henry, hands shaking furiously, grabbed the flintlock, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

Heather screamed, but Drew kept coming toward them, grabbing Henry by his shirtfront, heaving him up from the floor. A sickening squelch filled the air as Drew’s fist slammed into the center of Henry’s face.

But Drew was not finished. He was like a madman, pummeling Henry until the man was hardly recognizable. The thunderous crashes must have been audible overhead, for within moments several of the
Triton
’s crew swarmed into the cabin.

She scrambled away, backing up against the wall, horrified as Drew punished Henry by beating him mercilessly. Holding her destroyed bodice closed with one hand, she covered her eyes with the other as blood spattered over the wall and spilled across the floor.

Finally, between them, Bobby and Jeremy managed to pull Drew off Henry. The bosun’s mate was a bloody pulp, barely managing a pathetic moan as he was dragged from the cabin.

“Tell Mr. Mason to keep him in chains in the infirmary,” Drew thundered, drawing the back of his hand over the trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. “I will deal with him and I alone will do it.”

Jeremy looked for a moment as if he was about to argue, but backed down and motioned for Bobby to take Henry from the room.

Drew spun about, his eyes no longer blazing with fury, at least not until his gaze fell on her. “What happened?”

Still holding her bodice closed, she tried to keep the quake from her voice. “I — I don’t know. I came to nap, as you suggested, and he was here, waiting for me.”

He crooked a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. She wanted to turn away, especially as he brushed his thumb over her left cheekbone and a sharp sting spread through the side of her face. Drew’s eyes narrowed. “That son of a bitch.”

Her composure wavered, the tremble she managed to hold off until now rushed back with the force of a thunderclap to knock her off her feet. Without thinking, she slid her arms about his neck. “Thank God you came,” she choked as her throat squeezed shut.

“Shh…” he murmured as she buried her face in his neck. “It’s all right now.”

He lifted her, then stumbled with a groaned, “Jesus — ”

She spilled from his arms as he dropped to his knees and grabbed at his side. “Drew? What — ”

Her words died on her lips as he pulled his hand away, smeared with sticky-looking blood. Her stomach threatened to spill its contents as she stared in horror. Henry hadn’t missed.

His bullet had found its mark.