don’t think Simon would think kindly of
her returning sorely used.”
“Right.” He frowned. “How about
slightly used?”
A smile widened Percy’s lips. If
anyone were going to slightly use the
girl, it would be him. “What brings you
below deck, Ollie? I counted on you
being at the helm.”
“Frink’s crew, what’s left of ’em,
have agreed to terms. The others, those
what fought and refused to sail, are
floating like bloated whales in one of the
Striker
’s boats, headed to France.”
Ollie’s wicked cackle raised the hair on
his arms. They weren’t supposed to set
any of the men free and France and
England were at war.
“Why didn’t you put them in the
hold? Simon wanted them — alive.”
“There wasn’t room, Cap’n, not
with what Frink had pulled from the
Octavia
and stored in the hold. With
Collins, Guffald and his men, our own
men and now some of Frink’s men
aboard, we would’ve been playing with
fire if we thought we could control the
lot of them at once, especially those
loyal to Frink.”
Percy weighed the truth in Ollie’s
explanation and nodded. His mate was
right. According to his calculations, they
were eight days from London. The last
thing he needed was another mutiny on
his hands.
“Then that will have to do,” he
said.
“One other thing, sir.”
“Yes?” he asked.
“We, ah, well, sir, we pulled Frink
from the drink. He’s aboard, sir.”
“Frink?” Percy swallowed a heavy
lump in his throat. He hadn’t killed the
man? “How?”
Ollie’s hands began to move as he
talked. “Seems that after you fought the
captain, he recovered long enough to
swim away from the ship before it sank.
Our men pulled him aboard, but didn’t
recognize him at first. They threw him in
with the lot of ’em in the hold. Didn’t
want to bother you earlier in the night.
Thought you might like some privacy
with the girl. But this morning the
captain made a ruckus. I need to know
what you want us to do with ’em, sir.”
The ramifications were horrendous.
With Frink on board, his captaincy, his
control over the other men was at risk.
With the captain in the hold, Constance’s
life was in jeopardy. But with Frink
alive, he still had the potential
connections he needed to find the man
responsible for Celeste’s death.
“Leave him be for now, Ollie. He
can’t do any harm to us in chains.” At
least that was his most prevalent hope.
“Will do, Cap’n.”
“What about Guffald?” he asked.
“That conniving cuss has been
through worse. He got a good knot to his
noggin’, a few cuts and bruises, nothing
serious. The sawbones has patched him
up.”
“Where is he?”
Ollie smiled. “He’s with Collins’s
men.”
“Understood.”
Percy
frowned.
Something didn’t add up. But what, he
couldn’t be sure. He’d fought with
Guffald in the worst of conditions. The
man was a member of Nelson’s Tea.
However, Henry had not been privileged
to the information that Percy had while
working undercover for nearly a year.
Now was not the time to plunge Henry
into his methodical scheme. Not with a
personal vendetta on the line.
“What about Collins?” he asked,
his hand on the knob to his cabin door.
“Was the sawbones able to patch him
up?”
Ollie’s eyes fixated on the boards
beneath their feet. “Succumbed to his
wounds, the captain did. Not a good
sight, sir.”
What more could be said? He’d
done his best to save Collins. They’d
each made a pact in the event of certain
death at the hands of the enemy.
He lifted his gaze to meet Ollie’s
misted eyes. “Understood,” he said.
Captain Collins had been one of the best
nautical minds under the British flag. He
would never forget the man’s painful
expression, his concern not for his own
wounds but for Lady Constance, the
woman lying in his bed. “Tell the men
he’s to receive a proper burial at sea.”
Ollie nodded. “The word has
already been given, sir.”
“You’re a good man, Ollie,” he
admitted, slapping the man on the
shoulder. “What would I do without
you?”
Pride lit up Ollie’s eyes. “You’d be
at the bottom of the locker, I wager.”
Percy smirked. “At least I would
have had a delectable wench to keep me
company.”
“That is true,” Ollie said. His
second in command breathed deeply,
furrowed his brows and then cleared his
throat. “Been meaning to ask you, Cap’n.
What do you plan to do with Danbury’s
niece?”
“Good question, Ollie.” He tapped
his chin. “We’ll return her to her uncle
as quickly as possible. Until then, I’ll
keep her in my cabin,
away
from the
men. No one is allowed near her,
understood?”
“Aye. But who will keep her away
from you, sir?” Ollie suggested.
Halfway through the door, Percy
glanced back over his shoulder. “God
only knows, Ollie. God only knows.”
Ollie grinned. “If you get tired of
trying — ”
“Simon’s niece is off limits,” he
reminded him.
“Aye, sir!” Ollie saluted.
“Sound quarters. We’re headed
home. I’ll be up momentarily.”
“Aye, sir.” Twisting his toe on the
deck boards, Ollie added, “Would you
be wanting the galley to heat some
victuals?”
Percy nodded, imagining Constance
would be quite hungry when she awoke.
He rubbed the back of his neck against
the strain she’d already imposed upon
him. Collins had been known for
extravagant meals aboard his vessels.
Surely a good meal would assuage her
spirits. But what of his own?
“Aye,” he told Ollie. “I’ve built up
quite a hunger.” A hunger for revenge, a
taste for blood staunched only by the
death of those responsible for ending his
sister’s life.
Ollie shuffled away. Percy watched
his
man
disappear
down
the
companionway toward the galley. Josiah
Cane’s name and unanswered questions
inundated his mind. He was starving, but
not for food. He was eager to find out
who Josiah Cane was. Desperate to
know what kind of connections the man
had with Frink. Hungry for revenge and
the satisfaction achieving his goal would
bring.
“Hello?”
a
woman’s
voice
heralded, tearing him away from the
trials he calculated were near at hand.
Her voice sent a rush of desire straight
to his loins. Sultry, inviting, it enticed
him to close the door to the outside
world and disappear inside her flesh. He
closed the door and focused on the nude
form sitting up in his bed, hair in
complete dishevel, completely unaware
of her sensual allure.
All at once, he was seized by a
different kind of hunger.
CHAPTER FIVE
Constance’s muscles rebelled. She
stretched her limbs and stared at another
cabin
ceiling.
The
dark
wooden
paneling, polished to a burnished sheen,
revealed little as to her whereabouts.
Confused, she sat up on her elbows, her
eyes instantly alert as they focused upon
the
opulently
carved
window
encompassing the lighted end of the
room. Perplexed and frightened, she
gazed about. Nothing looked familiar.
Not the rich red brocade draperies
cascading down the corners of her bunk.
Not the large window, where light
radiated across the floor, or the
accessories — rope, lanterns — lining
the polished walls. She’d never been
inside a captain’s cabin before but
knew, without doubt, she had to be in
one now. But whose? Captain Collins’s
or Captain Frink’s? She had little to no
memory to indicate which.
Shaking her head to clear it,
Constance focused on several voices
streaming through a slight opening in the
doorway. One, in particular, seemed
vaguely familiar.
“I’ve built up quite a hunger.”
Her eyes widened with recognition
when she sighted the tall, dark
blackguard entering her cabin. Her
heartbeat jumped at the sound of
his
voice. She wanted to flee, to find a way
out of the tiny confines of the room, but
before she could choose an option, the
door closed behind him, cutting off any
avenue of escape.
The menacing man leaned against
the closed door. He took his time staring
at her, and then stepped forward.
Dressed in black from head to foot, the
pirate glared at her with a knowing gaze.
His open appraisal made her all too
aware she was in
his
room,
his
bed.
Instinctively, she gripped the sheet
higher before realizing it was but a
modest partition between them, one he
could easily cast aside should he so
choose.
“Little blossom, that sheet will not
protect you if I decide to delve between
your legs.” At her loud gasp, he laughed.
Setting
aside
her
modesty,
Constance slipped her feet to the edge of
the bunk, intent on proving she wasn’t
afraid of him. She wanted desperately to
prove she would not be subjugated. But
she gasped again, this time with shock.
“Where are my clothes?”
“You’ll not be needing them,” he
said.
She struggled to breathe. “What do
you mean I’ll not be needing my
clothes?”
Even before the question came out
of her mouth, his meaning was clear. An
abysmal vulnerability unlike any she’d
ever experienced forced a heated blush
into her cheeks. He stepped closer,
looming above her like a hawk stalking
prey. She shrank back, scurrying on her
hands and feet until her back braced
against the wall, intent on putting as
much space between herself and the
deplorable scoundrel as possible.
“Nothing can come between us,
Constance, including clothes.”
His alarming grin proved he meant
to ensure every word. Beads of sweat
broke out on her brow as her mind
labored for a response. Something
wicked churned in her stomach as her
mind labored over a memory, the
sensation of the two of them without
clothes,
their
bodies
scandalously
intertwined,
his
warm
fingers,
comforting touch, and his heart pounding
underneath her ear.
“How do you know my name?” she
squeaked, trying desperately to block out
the condemning images.
“Did you honestly expect me to
believe your lies about being Admiral
Duncan’s daughter? The man died quite
seasoned. His daughters most assuredly
wed and bedded before you were born.”
His penetrating gaze darted over her
body. “How old are you?” he asked. “I
wager nineteen — at most.”
He moved closer, his knee resting
on the edge of the bunk. Reaching out to
grab a lock of her hair, he added, “Too
young to be Duncan’s daughter,” he
continued, “and far prettier.”
Unsettled, she snatched back her
hair. Indignantly, she spat, “You
irritating simpleton! My age is of no
consequence to you.”
“Yet you claim to be one of
Admiral Duncan’s daughters. Who is the
simpleton?”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“If I must,” he said with a wave of
his hand, acting as if the effort drained
him. But it was the look in his eye that
warned her not to insult him again.
She quivered. He stood and
crossed the room until he was positioned
by the door again. He leaned against it