Читать книгу Captive on the High Seas - Christina Rich - Страница 11

Chapter Three

The captain’s jaw hardened, his fists clenched at his sides. She tore her gaze from his angry glare only to lose her breath at the sight of his broad chest and thick arms. The contours glistened beneath the droplets of water sliding down the smooth skin of his arms. Ada swallowed the knot forming in her throat and blinked her eyes against the sting of tears. As much as she wanted to blame the sea, she knew better. The captain’s cruel laughter had pierced the layers of brick and mud she had used to protect herself against her sisters’ taunts. His laughter should not cause her this much pain, especially given he was nothing more than a stranger, but having gone from the daughter of a wealthy and much respected merchant to a slave and near drowning in a matter of hours was wreaking havoc on her emotions.

Certainly he had been kind enough to risk his life to save her. However, that reason alone was not enough for her to take offense at his mockery. Not when she’d learned as a small child to keep such things from hurting her.

Taking a step closer, he knelt and reached his hand out. She shrunk against the wall as he brushed her hair from her eyes. The warmth of his hand against her cooled skin sent another round of chattering to her teeth. And more despised tears.

“I will not hurt you.” His slow, soothing tone and the rough pad of his thumb against her cheek as he wiped her tears made her want to believe him. The muscles in her shoulders even began to relax, but then he pulled a silver dagger with an intricately jeweled hilt from a sheath attached to his belt. “All right?”

Tensing once again, she darted her gaze around the small room in search of a weapon. A bench with brightly colored silk pillows and a small table, quite clearly attached to the floor, was all that decorated the room. Air refused to enter her chest as the knife neared her throat. The cold silver slid beneath the rope and against her skin. A different sort of fear gnawed at Ada’s insides. Was this how she was to die? Why save her from drowning only to mess his tidy sanctuary by slitting her throat.

Because he thinks to offer you as a sacrifice to one of his false gods.

Uncontrollable tears welled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. The edge of the knife pressed against her neck. She closed her eyes and swallowed.

“Hear my plea, Adonai, God of Heaven and earth.”

The blade stilled. Ada opened her eyes. Nicolaus’s dark eyes stared into hers. Where they had once been dark and cold, they now held curiosity and warmth. Like she thought they would. Droplets of water dripped from his curls and down into his thick-bearded jaw, before plopping onto a well-defined arm honed, no doubt, in battle if the scars marring it and the rest of his upper body were any indication.

His lips twitched as if he were about to say something, and then he refocused on her neck. His blade tugged against the corded rope. Slicing downward, the knife broke through the rope. He pulled it from her neck and then cut the binding from her wrists before sheathing his knife. Ada swallowed, and salt from the sea continued to invade the inside of her mouth.

Nicolaus grabbed hold of her wrists and turned them in his hands. His eyes darkened to match the night sky as his fingers trailed over the chafed flesh. He glanced at her neck. Lifting her hair off her shoulders, he murmured a few words she did not quite understand. He settled back on his heels and took her hands in his once again, his thumb smoothing over her wrists in a gentle motion. “These need tending.”

Ada blinked several times, pretending she did not understand and pulled away from his touch before cradling her folded hands against her chest. She prayed he would leave her alone. His anger she could accept, but his gentle touch and the concern in his eyes reminded her of her mother’s love. A love she would never again know. She wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face against her knees.

If her mother had not gone to be with her ancestors, her father never would have left her to the care of her sisters and Ada would not be on a boat surrounded by increasingly violent waves.

The captain stood, raking his hand through his hair, sending bits of water splattering all around her. His jaw clenched. The creases at the corner of his right eye twitched together, and his nostrils flared. “You stay.”

Ada feared to even breathe in his presence given he seemed to be angered easily at the sight of her, not to mention every time she inhaled she caught a whiff of sandalwood and wet leather. A heady combination to her sensitive emotions, especially considering she had wanted to throw her arms around him in gratitude when he released her bindings. However, his command, as if she were a dog, left a metallic tinge on her tongue as she bit back the rebuke.

His chest expanded as if he were about to speak, but he took a step back and then disappeared down the ladder.

Waiting a few breaths, Ada scrambled across the floor and peered down the opening. Nicolaus stood below her with his arms crossed over his bare chest. He was so close that if she reached out her fingers she could touch his hair. Rolling his shoulders, he turned his head, and she jerked back before he caught her.

“Large swell to the west.”

Ada stood. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her but she pushed forward toward the window and wrapped her hands around the edge for support. Strong winds tugged at her hair. Rain or bits of the sea stung her cheeks. The man Nicolaus had called Xandros stood on a platform at the front of the boat. Beyond him was nothing but gray sky and rising waves.

The gurgling in her stomach bubbled into her throat. She fought the sickness, but it continued upward. She knew there was nothing here to catch the contents of her stomach—if there was anything left—and she did not wish to dirty Nicolaus’s pristine abode.

Gathering the hem of her sodden tunic, Ada climbed down the ladder and raced toward the back of the boat. She leaned over the rail and heaved. And heaved. With her arms against the top rail, she rested her head and fixed her thoughts on trying to breathe past the sickness overtaking her stomach.

The boat rolled to the left and she dug her nails into the wood railing. No sooner had it gone one way, it rolled the other. Seawater rushed over her bare feet as the boat tilted. Ada’s feet slipped from beneath her and she found herself sliding, once again, between the rail and the decking.

A strong arm snaked around her midsection and jerked her away from the edge. Sandalwood, leather and sea salt engulfed her. She leaned her head against his chest and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank You, God.”

The sinewy arm banded around her waist flinched. “Your god has naught to do with your rescue, foolish woman.”

Her relief quickly dispersed at his words. This Greek barbarian and his language grated her frayed nerves. Was her illness foolishness?

“I told you to stay.” He tossed her over his shoulder. Her sensitive stomach rebelled and heaved. Fortunately for Nicolaus, her stomach was now empty. Although it would have served justice to soil his tunic. Her condition seemed to go unnoticed as he trudged across the deck.

“I should let the sea have you.”

She stiffened, frightened he would carry through with his threat. However, she would not respond, would not give him a hint that she knew his language, a language her father often spoken when conversing with traders.

“Save me the trouble. Good coin spent on saving you from disgrace. Should have let the procurer have you. I would have been richer.” He halted beside the ladder leading to the room and deposited her onto her feet. She noticed he had donned his outer tunic and was much drier than she was. “Foolish, foolish woman, I’ll bind you to the mast if need be.”

Before she knew what she was about, she drew back her hand and slapped him.

* * *

Nicolaus furrowed his brow. “You do understand me.”

Her eyes widened, and he smiled. “It is as I thought, but how?”

A wave sloshed over the boat. Spray rained down upon them. Her pallor did not look well as his ship rocked back and forth. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her gaze darted around. “Ah, you do not like the sea.”

She bent over, an arm clutched at her stomach.

“Come along, then.” He lifted her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her slight frame nestled perfectly against him, when she wasn’t pushing her palms against his chest. That part of him that had been cold for so many months began to beat, to breathe and to hope for a better future than the one he’d resigned himself to.

“Hold still, lest I drop you.”

Fire burned in her eyes as she glared at him. “I do not wish to be coddled. I am meant to be a slave and I should act as such, not as a maid in need of rescue as you so kindly put it.”

Laughter tickled the back of his throat. It took much effort to keep it from spilling forth. Strange how he’d felt happier since he’d brought her aboard his ship than he had in a long while. “If you are a slave, as you say, then I will coddle you if I so choose. As it stands, you are ill. I would not be a good merchant if I allowed my merchandise to waste away from sickness of the sea, now, would I?”

She lifted her chin a little higher, crossed her arms over her chest and released a huff. He gave in to the tugging at the corners of his lip. Fortunately, her eyes were closed else there would have been more from her viperous tongue. Admitting defeat was obviously not easy on this Philistine woman who called upon the Hebrew god, and he was certain their little sparring was not over, which pleased him more than it should. Especially given he looked forward to future matches with this mite of a woman.

“Brison, send a man for a cake of bread and fresh water. I need a bowl and a cloth and the lady needs dry clothing.”

Tilting her head she glanced up at him. “I pray, do not waste your precious merchandise on a slave like me.”

The constant reminder of how he’d acquired her burned in his belly. It wasn’t as if he went about buying humans at will. He grabbed hold of the highest ladder rung and climbed into his captain’s quarters. The woman shivered and then clamped a hand over her mouth. Nicolaus tossed the pillows onto the floor and then laid her down on the cushioned bedding of the bench. No sooner had he done so than she sat upright, clutching her stomach as it rebelled against the ship’s motion.

He swept her hair from her face and tucked it behind her. Drawing her knees into her chest, she rested her cheek against them. Her amber eyes reached into him. He took comfort in the knowledge that she had not willingly jumped into the angry froth.

“I should not be here.” The words were little more than a whisper, but they were like the snap of a sail as it unfurled into the wind. The vibration of her voice thundered against his palm, slammed against his conscience. He unfolded his length and crossed his arms over his chest before staring out at the choppy sea.

Had his sister said the very same words when she’d been taken from him? He dropped his arms, clenching his hands at his sides. The fear in his sister’s eyes as she was taken would forever torment him. The fact that he had taken another young maid from her homeland did not ease the suffering. It did not matter that he thought to save her from an even more repugnant future than being bound to him.

“What is it you are called?” Nicolaus glanced down at her. Her tresses, darkened from the water, fell down her back and pooled onto the bench. He could not change what was. He was not the one who had placed her on the auction block. He only intervened in what fate had in store for her and for that he would not apologize. Somehow he’d make her see the truth. Preferably before they arrived at his father’s house.

“Ada.” Her body rocked with the waves. She leaned near the edge of the bench and would have fallen if he had not reached out a hand. Her eyes grew wide, and she jerked from his touch.

“Ada.” He liked the sound of her name. “You should lie down and rest. It is fortunate this is a small storm and will blow over soon. No doubt your stomach will improve once the sea settles.”

“How can one rest when being tossed about?”

Before he could respond, Brison entered. “I will see to her, Captain. Xandros has need of your assistance.”

“Xandros is capable of guiding us through the worst of storms. What could be the problem?”

Brison shuffled his feet, his gaze never meeting Nicolaus’s. “Do not keep your thoughts to yourself, Brison. Say what needs to be said.”

His brother glanced at Ada before darting toward Nicolaus. “Er...there be ships approaching, Captain.”

“What did you say?” His chest constricted in fear. The last time he sailed, ten ships had ambushed him, capturing him and his sister. He had not considered until this moment how his ship had been left to his crew and all of the gifts his father had sent along to his sister’s future groom untouched. An action unheard of for a band of sea thieves. But then it was not just any band of thieves, but rather David of Delos, a man he once considered a friend. A man who had fought by his side. Why had his friend turned against him, stolen his sister and forced Nicolaus into bondage? Those were questions he could not ponder at the moment. Now, he would do all in his might to keep his ship, crew and especially Ada safe.

“A ship. Perhaps two. Xandros could not be certain. What, with the storm and all it’s a mite hard to discern when they hide behind the waves.”

Nicolaus breathed a sigh of relief, but still raked shaky fingers through his hair. He knew they’d encounter other ships, and he was thankful only one or two approached. However, he preferred not to encounter them with Ada and his youngest brother on board. He could not lose another sibling to thieves, and he wouldn’t risk Ada.