The Captain's Lady (5 page)

"Yeah, make yourself scarce. Also do me a favor and make sure Carruthers stays gone a while longer."

Larry nodded.

Abby had finished her lunch and set the spoon and bowl on the tray. She remained in a sitting position, her feet dangling over the side of the bed, drinking apple juice. Absently, she rubbed her lower back with one hand. As Larry approached, dangling the stethoscope from two fingers, she set down the empty cup. Unease hooked around her as Eric followed. His expression was unreadable, maybe even a bit predatory.

The doctor utilized his kind bedside manner. “Abby, I want to do a quick check of your vitals. Did you get enough to eat?"

Matching the warm smile, she replied with a quick nod. “Yes, thank you. It was more than enough."

Larry draped the stethoscope around his neck, and then pulled the table away to help her to slide back into bed. When she tried to lie down, he stopped her with a firm grip on the arm. “No, I need you to sit up this time.” He gestured with the vertical flat of the other hand to the locker against the side wall facing the door. “Captain, can you grab me a couple of extra pillows from in there?"

"Sure.” Eric retrieved two pillows and handed them over. “Is this enough?"

"Yes, thanks.” Larry positioned them behind her back for support.

Eric returned to his seat and watched the doctor listen to her heart and lungs. Eric absorbed Abby's soft, quiet voice into his memory as she patiently answered the doc's questions.

At long last, Larry nodded and removed the IV needle. He smoothed the tender spot with his thumb. “You're doing great. I want you to get some rest.” He gave her a quick warm smile then moved over to the counter and pulled open the secured drawer to put away the equipment. He secured each drawer and cupboard, so that nothing would fly out from the constant movement of the ship. Finally, he strode to the door and left without a backward glance. “I'll be in the mess hall if I'm needed."

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Chapter Five

Eric stood beside Abby's bed, arms crossed, listening for the solid thud of the closing door. He looked down at the questioning look that lingered in her eyes. Offering a warm smile of reassurance, he pulled up a chair. His knees pressed against the edge of the bed. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees, closing the distance between them to mere inches. “Abby, it's time you tell me what happened."

A stark paleness washed over her face as her fingers closed to clutch the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.

He reached out and covered her tiny balled-up fists with one large hand, then gently lifted her chin and waited until she peered at him through those thick lashes. “It's okay. Whatever happened, you can tell me. Please trust me."

The sound of his voice was soft yet powerful, the words conveying his promise. Eric's eyes appeared to darken in intensity as they bore into hers. The genuine sincerity rendered her speechless. Trembling, her eyes began to moisten and she struggled for the strength and confidence to open up.

He kept a firm hold on her hand.

A lone tear escaped her creased eyes. Its heat trailed a path down her cheek. She opened her eyes, frightened, unsure of where she would find the words to relay her horrific story.

Then it happened. The words began to flow. First, words about her beloved grandmother and the constant dark cloud threatening their oh-so-precious peace. It was terrifying to speak so freely, to be stripped naked and vulnerable before this veritable stranger.

Funny though, it truly felt like she'd known him forever.

The tears flowed along with the words. After a while, she gave up trying to stem the tide. She recounted the details: her grandmother dying, the feelings of abandonment, and a determination to find her place in this world. The impulsive decision to escape her life, the way it was then, to leave Seattle, and travel around Europe.

Finally she told him about Paris and that fateful night when she went out for a walk, stopping at a nightclub close to the hotel where she was staying. What happened next changed her life forever. “When I walked out I didn't know I'd been followed. At least I think I was; it happened so fast. A car pulled up. I was grabbed from behind by a big man and forced into the car."

"You don't have to say this if it hurts."

Breathing deeply, Abby was suddenly desperate to finish. In short, rapid-fire sentences she told him of the days she spent tied up, wearing a hood over her head. Then—she didn't know how much later—she'd been moved into the back of a vehicle. She'd been overwhelmed with fear. The angry men spoke in a strange, unfamiliar, clipped language, which she knew now was Arabic. How she begged and pleaded for them to let her go, asking them who they were and what they wanted with her. After several days of riding in the car, they dumped her into a room, saying she was now a gift to a great man. His property, to do with as he saw fit.

"I-I was never so frightened in my life. Well, not before that anyway. Since ... since I've been scared almost all the time.” She let her blurred gaze rest on his concerned face. “Until today."

He patted her wadded-up hands. “Is there more?"

Abby nodded then described the shock, using vague, emotionless language. It helped keep her distanced emotionally, as if the horrors had happened to someone else rather than herself. How every moment she'd wished it was just a bad dream and she would soon wake up to discover she was home in her nice, soft bed in Seattle.

Of course, the brutal reality of the situation slammed into her like a freight car each time she woke.

Her pain pulsed like a solid entity around them. Eric was tempted to stop her. Larry had warned against upsetting her, after all, but wouldn't it be better for her to purge the memories from her system? So he waited. And he listened to the painful account while her tears flowed down her face, wetting the white hospital gown.

She told of Seyed Hossein, the man to whom she was a gift, and the night he came to her. She told not only of the repeated rapes—that made his blood boil through his veins—but she also related the beatings. Then the mixed relief to discover she was pregnant. It was to be a reprieve from his touch. But the fear was always there as she remained a prisoner in one richly furnished room. “A doctor came to see me often, but I saw no one else except a small boy who brought my meals. If he spoke to me, he was beaten. I was afraid for him, so after a while I discouraged communication."

"I'll never forget the night I escaped. Seyed came to my room and said he was taking me out. I scarcely allowed myself to hope for any chance to be free from him. I found it hard to stay calm, but somehow I did. I remember putting on the abayah and veil I was given, making sure I did everything right."

Closing her eyes, she took in several long breaths, then recounted the details of the ensuing trip to the marina, where they boarded a boat.

"At the time I wondered where we were. It was so dark outside, I couldn't recognize anything. There was another man with Seyed, a stranger to me. He was the one that drove us to the sailboat."

Eric smoothed back her hair. “Did you see the name of the boat?"

She knit her eyebrows together, trying with some effort to search her memory. After a moment, she shook her head, slowly and deliberately. “I saw it on the bow, but it was dark and ... oh, I'm sorry, I just can't remember. It happened fast and Seyed took me below as soon as I stepped onboard. He sat me on a narrow bunk and told me to stay there, that I was not to come up unless he came for me.” Abby looked up at Eric as he offered her a tender smile of support.

"That's okay. Go on."

"I tried to make out what they were saying, to maybe hear where they were taking me, but I don't speak Arabic. Well, I picked up a few simple words, like food and bathroom.” She threw him a red-faced grin. “I couldn't understand what they were saying. They sounded so angry. I think they were arguing about something. It went quiet for a few seconds and then I heard the small engine on the sailboat start up, and we began to move."

Abby reached behind herself with both hands, and massaged her fingers into a spot at the base of her spine. Eric reached over, and rubbed the taut muscles. “How does that feel?” he whispered, then adjusted the pillows higher to help relieve some of the pressure on her back.

The tension drained from her body, visible in an overall relaxation. “Oh, that feels so much better."

She offered him a shy smile of thanks, right before a painful shadow cast more darkness upon her. She continued to recount the details of her ordeal. “I don't know how long I was down there. I must have fallen asleep. But I remember him shaking me awake, telling me to come up on deck. I followed him up, having to hold his hand so I wouldn't stumble in the darkness. There were only a handful of stars in the sky and no moon. I remember looking around for the other man, but he wasn't there."

She spoke evenly, going on to describe with vivid clarity the moment she realized they were very much alone on the boat. “I was so frightened. The look in his eyes...."

Abby began hyperventilating then. A cold dampness beaded on her skin. He laid a protective hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her away from the bleak memories. He moved from the chair and sat beside her on the bed. “Take a deep breath, just slow down. There you go, that's it, just breathe.” He rubbed her arms gently, as someone might a child's. “You sure you want to continue?"

"Yes."

"Tell me how you got away?” he asked softly, drawing the information out, slowly and in a way that gave her the ability to unburden her soul.

It was intoxicating, this power he possessed to make her nightmare disappear. Then came the niggling in the back of her head, the uncomfortable voice that said what a fool she was to open up to him, to expose all the secrets. Then with a sigh, pushing the thought away, she allowed a warm unexplained sensation to flow. Eyes squeezed shut, the painful memory pulsed: of the stifling claustrophobia, of wearing the veil. Without thinking, she'd removed both the veil and abayah. The wind suddenly picked up, tossing her hair lightly as the rhythmic splash of the waves slapped against the side of the boat, luring her to a peaceful haven, where time stood still.

"I don't even remember looking at him, I just remember him yelling. And being so scared because he was furious and shouting in Arabic. I couldn't understand what he said, but knew it had something to do with me removing the veil and abayah. It happened so fast; he grabbed me by the hair and struck me,” she touched an index finger to the purple spot on her cheek and winced, “and knocked me down. I hit the deck so hard it knocked the wind out of me."

Reaching up with a shaky hand, she touched the swollen lip, then closed her eyes, remembering the painful sting of the moment. “I don't remember when he hit me here.” Abby gestured to her arm.

"He grabbed me by the front of my dress and hit me again and again, he punched me so hard in the ribs he knocked the breath out of me. I don't remember doing it, or how I got there. I only remember standing over him with this piece of long metal tubing. I have no idea what it was for. I must have picked it up from the deck...” Her eyes attained a faraway look. She sighed. “But he didn't move; he just lay there. There was some blood on the side of his head. Funny, at the time, it felt as if I was watching the whole thing happen to someone else. I don't even remember hitting him. When I looked down at him, I felt nothing."

His touch was so gentle and caring, as with just the backs of his fingers he carefully traced the bruise on her cheek. It was an involuntarily instinct to lean her head into his hand and she could not stop from doing so. The warmth from his fingers spread a vibrant tingle through her.

He handed her a tissue and she wiped her eyes. “I can't explain it, but it just didn't seem real. I remember letting the pipe drop and hearing it strike the deck. The sound scared me and shocked me to the reality of what I'd done. I was terrified he'd wake up. I somehow managed to get into the dinghy tied to the back of the boat. I still don't know how I untied it and dropped it overboard. I drifted from the sailboat praying it would move faster before he woke up."

Suddenly filled with an overwhelming remorse, she lowered her grief-stricken face, and buried it in her cupped hands. “It was the first time in my life I was happy about hurting someone. I may have killed him. I never stopped to look. I hated him so much."

Watching her flush with guilt for hurting the man who held her captive sparked an unbridled anger. Taking hold of her chin firmly, he turned the red and blotchy tear-streaked face to him. “Look at me, Abby.” The tone was firm and held no room for negotiation. She drew up her eyes, and met that steadfast gaze. “Don't you dare feel guilty for what you did. After what that bastard did to you, he deserved whatever happened. You did what you had to. And I want you to remember something: when someone tries to hurt you, you fight back with everything you've got. I'm proud of you for having the guts to defend yourself; you have no idea the number of women that don't fight back when a man knocks them around."

She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it, stunned by his vindicating words. She tried again. “What happens now? Are you going to try and find him and wh-what happens to me?"

He gathered both her hands in his and gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I have nowhere to go."

He stopped her with a gentle shake of his head before she could continue. “Right now, sweetheart, you won't be going anywhere. You'll stay right here for the next few days. I want you to stop worrying about this man; I promise you he will never come near you again. I'm personally going to make sure of that. Okay?” If anything, the fierceness in his gaze should have been enough to convince her. “Do you have any family or friends I can contact for you?"

With a fierce, determined pride, she clenched her jaw and boldly tilted her chin. Only a slight quiver in her voice betrayed the pain she was so desperate to hide. “No, there's no one. There was just my grandmother and she died."