Pirate Wolf Trilogy (113 page)

"We will discuss your penchant for
disobeying my orders later," he warned softly.

"I'm sure we will," she
said, the green of her eyes blazing defiantly. "For the time being,
however, you may want to look a little less murderous, for
the
capitan
is
smiling and waving back, as are some of his crew and
officers."

Dante tore his gaze away from her face and
looked out across the water again. By God, and damn his eyes if she
wasn't right. The Spaniard had doffed his tricorn and was offering
a gallant bow, and when he straightened, there was a smile on his
face. It was a thin, cruel smile, undoubtedly fuelled by notions of
taking the stunning beauty captive, but for the time being, at
least, it might buy Dante some precious time.

As if he needed any further evidence of
Muertraigo’s original intention, heads began to appear along the
rails as the men who were crouching behind the guns stood. Gabriel
was sorely tempted to open fire just because they had done the same
thing as he.

Instead, he took up the
speaking trumpet and hailed the Spaniard in flawlessly refined
Castilian. He identified the ship as His Most Majestic Majesty King
Phillip’s
Santa Maria
and himself as Capitan Rafael Enrique Padilla, a name he had
employed on other nefarious occasions. When the words finished
echoing across the water, the reply came back: “Capitan Francisco
de Cuellar sends greetings and felicitations from the
San Mateo
.”

While more mundane lies were exchanged, Eva
remained by the rail, hearing only the rushing of her own blood in
her ears. What had struck her as being a good idea at the time was
obviously not held in such high regard by Gabriel Dante—or the rest
of the crew. She could feel several hundred pairs of eyes boring
into her back and had no doubt they would blame her—yet again—as a
bad luck charm if this encounter turned sour.

Dante jarred her out of her thoughts when he
wrapped a hand around her elbow, gripping it so tightly she thought
he might crush through the bones.

"Allow me to escort you back to the cabin
now," he said, his voice ominous.

"I... can manage on my own."

"No, no. I insist."

His fingers pinched deeper, sending her up
onto her toes from the pain. She was led, almost dragged across the
deck by his side, having no choice but to accompany him down the
ladderway and below.

When they were inside the great cabin, he
released her arm and slammed the door shut. He tugged at the
choking ruff and tore it off his neck, then attacked the row of
buttons down the side of the doublet. When it was loose and he
could breathe freely again, he rounded on Eva and glared her into
slowly backing up into a corner.

His eyes were cold and hard as he followed,
step by measured step.

"When I give an
order,
Evangeline
, I expect it to be obeyed. I don't expect it to be
questioned. Or ignored. Or embellished with hare-brained notions. A
ship runs on discipline.
My
discipline. As my father is fond of saying, on
board this ship I am God, king, and all the saints combined and if
you pray to anyone to keep you safe, you pray to me."

Eva shrank further back. "I only
thought..."

"And you don't think. You most definitely
don't think, you just obey."

Two hot spots of color bloomed on her
cheeks. "Yes. Yes, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't
happen again. Because if it does—" he took another step closer and
she felt the open edges of his doublet press against her. His face
was only inches away. Anger was evident in every taut inch of his
body, but most especially in his hands which he had to unclench in
order to spread them flat against the wall, placing one on either
side of her head. "If it does, Mistress Chandler, I will not be
held responsible for what happens to you. I will only promise that
it will be unpleasant.
Extremely
unpleasant. Do I make myself quite
clear?"

She could not speak, she could only nod.

His eyes narrowed. He continued to stare
until she felt as if she might melt into one of the cracks on the
floorboards, and when he finally did relent and push away from the
wall, she very nearly slid into a heap on her knees.

"I can only hope your Spanish is as good as
you claim it to be."

She had to struggle to keep the tears from
flooding her eyes. "M-my Spanish?"

He walked over to the gallery windows,
barely glancing back as he answered. "Were you not listening up
there?"

"To be honest, I—"

"It seems your little
performance was so enchanting, the
capitan
wishes to come on board to
see if you look as tasty a morsel across a table as you do across
three hundred yards of open water."

Eva's jaw dropped. "Wh-what?"

"He has invited himself to dine with us this
evening. Can you flirt?”

“Can I—what?”

“Flirt. I vow it is a woman’s best weapon at
the best of times and if possible I want that bastard lusting after
you like a dog. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I’m not sure I understand why. On deck just
now—“

“Look upon it as a chess game, Mistress
Chandler. He moves a bishop, we block with a queen. Depending on
your performance tonight, Estevan Muertraigo will decide whether to
attack and try to destroy us, or put us into checkmate so we have
no choice but to surrender.”

“Who is Muertraigo?”

“The chessplayer. He is using the name de
Cuellar like I am using the name Padillo.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s a Spaniard with no
scruples as to who he attacks: French, Dutch, English, Spanish… he
has no allegiance to anyone but himself. He started out on his
pirating ways with one ship about a year ago, so obviously he’s met
with some success along the way. I’m guessing we look like a big
fat prize and he would dearly love to stand on the quarterdeck as
captain.”

“What if I say something I shouldn’t? Or
give him cause to be suspicious?”

“He is already suspicious. I want him to be
intrigued to the point where he wants you as much as he wants this
ship.”

“Intrigued,” she murmured, wiping damp palms
down her skirt. “With me?”

“You say that as if you have never enticed a
man to lust after you. I assumed it was something every woman was
taught at birth, since they know how to do it so well.”

“I must have missed that lesson,” she said
miserably.

“You had a fiancé. You must have done
something to attract him.”

“It was my dowry that attracted him. He
kissed like a cold fish and apparently preferred women with red
hair and big—“ she caught herself before saying what she was
thinking, but Dante interpreted her cupped hand movements and
chuckled.

“I see. Well then, perhaps
if we give the
capitan
something intriguing to look at, he won’t be as concerned
over what he hears. You can begin by stripping out of those
clothes.”

"I don't...
What
? Strip?"

"A bath, Mistress Chandler. We can't have
you smelling like tar and camphor and scratching under your arms
all evening. I'll have Eduardo bring in a barrel of fresh water you
can use for a tub. There is soap in the cabinet along with brushes
and—" he waved a hand— "whatever else you might need. In the
meantime I suppose I shall have to restore the scarlet bordello to
its former glory.”

“You threw most of the glory overboard,” she
reminded him.

“The ship is full of it. Eduardo should have
no trouble turning the outer cabin into an elegant dining room. In
fact, we’ll use the captain’s finest gold plate and cut glass to
add a little luster to the offerings.”

Eva wisely held her tongue and said nothing
more. She watched him stomp about the cabin for a few minutes,
shouting orders to Eduardo, to the ship's cook, to Stubs, all of
whom had crowded into the doorway. Boys were sent to find enough
linens and gold plate to impress a king; orders were given for a
trestle table to be set up in the adjoining cabin where the guests
would be entertained. The ship’s barber was called upon to give
Dante a proper shave, while a half barrel was fetched and filled
with heated water for Eva’s bath.

With a nod to all the comings and goings in
the cabin, a screen was erected in front of the tub, but if Eva
thought she would be left alone to bathe, she was sadly mistaken.
Eduardo and Dante, along with a dozen others marched constantly in
and out of the cabin, passing within a few inches of the flimsy
screen. It was the quickest bath she had ever taken in her
life.

When she emerged, scrubbed pink and
dripping, she towelled herself dry and hastily donned the chemise
and long underskirt, restoring some semblance of modesty while she
brushed and dried her hair.

She needn't have worried.
No one had shown any interest in the screen or the splashing noises
behind it. In her haste, she did not even have the pleasure of
enjoying the sweet scent of the soap or the lather it produced in
the fresh water. The few baths she had taken on board the
Eliza Jane
had been in
cold sea water which had rendered the soap as frothy as a stone.
She had not had the luxury of a warm bath since leaving Portsmouth.
It was heaven to be rid of the smell of camphor on her skin, and
sheer bliss to drag a brush through her hair and be rid of the
tangles. It dried quickly in the warm, tropical air and she was
able to braid it and affect an elegant coil at the nape of her
neck.

She had been shocked by her own reflection
that first day she had come aboard. While she wasn't exactly
blooming with health now, three days later, some of the gauntness
seemed to have fled on the wings of the enormous meals she had been
eating. There was color in her cheeks and, with the artful
application of some powders she had found in the sea chest, the
shadows under her eyes were concealed. As long as they dined by
candlelight, she might pass a not too close inspection.

“If you were my wife, I would insist you
leave your hair down and not torture it into such tight, matronly
wheels.”

Eva dropped the stick of kohl she had been
about to apply to her lashes and whirled around. Dante was watching
from the corner of the screen, his eyes offering no apologies for
spying or for making a leisurely inspection up and down the length
of her scantily-clad body.

“And because I will be introducing you as my
wife, in order to avoid any discussions as to why a duena is not
present at the meal tonight, I think you ought to oblige my
husbandly preferences.”

Eva had her hands crossed over her breasts,
hiding behind what little protection they offered. The same could
not be said for Dante who was completely bare-chested, even to the
absence of the bandages she had used to bind his ribs and back. He
was dressed in only the tight white hose, which left nothing
whatsoever to the imagination as to what lay beneath.

His face was freshly shaved, his hair
dripping wet as if he had just come from a dip in the sea, which,
indeed, he had. The residual scabbing over his eye and down his
cheek had been washed away, and with the swelling almost gone, the
bruising faded, and the raggedy shadow of stubble scraped from his
face, it again struck Eva that he was shockingly handsome and not
at all the ugly brute she had first supposed him to be. Combined
with the bare, bronzed chest, the sculpted muscles across his
shoulders, the defined ridges down his belly, it was all Eva could
do to remember to blink before her eyes dried out.

"I was hoping I could
impose upon you to bandage me up again. I would hate to leak
through the
capitan's
fancy doublet."

She found her voice with an effort. "Of
course. I had extra strips torn from the bedsheet...
somewhere."

He held up a rolled ball. When she made no
move to come forward or uncross her hands from her chest, he gave a
dark little smile, turned, and held the roll out behind him. Eva
inched forward and took it, then was distracted by his broad
shoulders. She wound the bandaging front to back this time so that
she could stay behind him, not that it helped much to settle the
tiny showers of tingly pinpricks that rippled across her skin each
time she touched him.

When she finished, she cut and tied the
linen then stepped away again.

"How is your thigh?"

"Fine. Thank you."

"You don't want me to take a quick peek?
Just to be sure?"

"No. I do not."

"Ah well, my mother lost half an arm and
manages fine. I suppose you'll do well with only one leg." He
chuckled at his own wit.

"Your mother lost her arm?"

"In battle, yes."

"How awful."

"Believe me, she would find it far more
awful to sit at home embroidering her initials on table linens. Now
come. Eduardo has found you something utterly charming to wear for
the benefit of our dinner guests.”

"I'm sure I can manage on my own,
Captain."

He sighed, turned, and snatched her by the
wrist, hauling her around in front of the screen. Thankfully there
was no one else in the cabin, but she could hear voices in the
adjacent cabin arguing over the proper placement of table
settings.

He held up the farthingale and wordlessly
bade her step into the center of the hoops. When she did so, he
raised the cage-like garment and fastened it at her waist. Over
this he dropped a wide underskirt of gold cloth then helped her
into a rose-colored overskirt, which was open from the waist in a
wide vee to show the richness of the gold beneath. A stiffened
stomacher had to be laced up the back and drawn tight to exaggerate
the slimness of her waist, which he did with such proficiency she
guessed he had done it many times before.