Читать книгу Within A Captain's Hold - Lisa A. Olech - Страница 14

When he’d stormed out of the room earlier, Annalise was left reeling from Jaxon’s kiss. Her body hummed with a hunger she’d never known. The hardness of his body left an imprint upon her. Her lips scorched. And, he had left her the key.

Snatching it off the bed, she unlocked the drawer. For a moment, she imagined it might have been a cruel trick, but when the key hit its mark and the drawer opened, there sat her ring. A small circle of golden hope in the vast sea of uncertainty. Annalise almost wept as she held it to her chest.

She tried to make sense of it all. Jaxon had been furious. Anna threatened him with his own sword. What made him give her ring back? She had little time to wonder, however.

Cookie returned and warned her that the Scarlet Night was poised to attack a ship.

“Ye best be findin’ a place to hide yerself, miss. Just in case.

“In case?” Annalise clutched at the rent in her chemise.

“In case the bastards don’t take kindly to havin’ their ship taken by pirates.”

As soon as Cookie left, she searched the room. The cupboards on either side of the bed were too narrow for her to slip into, and the space beneath the bed held old logs and parchments. She found a niche in the corner of the room where two trunks came together. Annalise wrapped a thin blanket around herself and slid over the rounded tops of the trunks to crouch behind them as the commotion overhead grew louder.

A blast of cannon fire brought her screaming from her hiding place. The Scarlet Night jerked violently and shuddered from the volley. Distant sounds of returning fire had Anna bracing herself for the hit, but it did not come. Instead, more cannon fire erupted overhead. Howls and screams of men and the smells of smoke and sulfur rained down upon her as her mind’s eye conjured the most horrendous scene.

Fear gripped her as she frantically looked to run from a room she could not escape, with legs that wouldn’t stop shaking. Jaxon was going to die. They were all going to die. Any minute a blast would blow her and the ship surrounding her into a watery oblivion.

Cannon fire roared again from the Scarlet Night, and Annalise screamed. She fell to her knees and covered her head to block out the hellish crescendo building around her.

She shook with terror, even as the battle above her quieted. Had they won? Shouts and the sounds of running feet were her only answer. Cookie’s words returned to her. She needed to hide. Suppose the first person through the cabin’s door wasn’t Jaxon? What if whoever held the ship was more vicious and bloodthirsty than even Wolfsan. As if to give life to her fears, the latch scraped in the lock. There was no time to duck away. Panicked, she snatched a heavy brass sextant from Jaxon’s desk and raised it over her head. If she were to die, she’d die fighting.

Annalise had never been more terrified to watch a door open, or more grateful to see Jaxon walk through. Raw, unchecked emotion tumbled around her like rain as she dropped the sextant onto his desk and leapt heedlessly into the safety of his arms. Then he kissed her. Again.

This was not the angry, punishing kiss from before. It began tenderly but the rush of emotions swept her into a heated exchange, igniting a deep desire she could not explain. The need for his comfort overwhelmed everything else. She clung to him as the kiss deepened and surrendered to it--to him.

Jaxon broke the connection but still held her. Had his anger returned? Would he mock her for being weak and afraid?

“I’m sorry. The battle…cannons exploding…. I’ve never heard anything so horrifying.” Beneath her hands, his shirt was red with blood. “Dear God, you’re hurt.”

“Nay.”

“But…”

“This isn’t my blood.”

Anna stared at the color upon her hands. The smell of the blood mixed with his sweat assaulted her senses. “Oh…God…” She tried to wipe it away and discovered blood soaked into the fabric of her chemise. “Oh, God.” Would this nightmare never end? “Get it off me. Please.”

“It’s just blood. Calm yourself.”

“No. It’s dead men’s blood.” Bile rose in her throat. “I don’t care if you see me bare. Cut it off. Please. Get it off…Oh, I’m going to be sick.”

“No, no, no, you’re not.” He grabbed at the tear and, in one strong pull, tore the fragile cloth straight up through the neckline. The garment fell to the floor, and he wrapped her in the thin blanket she dropped earlier. Stripping off his shirt and the crimson band about his waist, he pulled her over to his washstand and held her hands over the bowl to clean them. She clamped her eyes shut.

“There. It’s gone. Wait…” He dipped a clean cloth into the pitcher and wiped her cheek.

“Ahhh, it’s on my face.”

He wiped at her cheek again. “No, it’s gone.”

“Do you swear?” She grabbed at his arm.

“Aye, woman, I swear.”

Annalise opened her eyes. The water in the bowl was a sickly pink. She poured more water from the pitcher over her hands and rubbed at them.

“I told you it’s gone.”

She cleaned her hands yet again. “I can still feel it.”

“It’s in your mind. I tell you, it’s off.”

Annalise shook her head and scratched at her hands. “I had to scrub Uncle’s ring a dozen times. Wolfsan sent it wrapped like a gift. Oh, God.” She remembered every grisly image. “It had a ribbon. When I opened the box, there it sat nestled in black satin. I couldn’t even tell what it was at first. Then I picked it up. It was sticky. And the smell…I’ll never forget the smell.” She poured more water on her hands and scrubbed.

He stilled her hands and eased her away. “There’s no more blood on you or your ring.”

Jaxon moved back to the bowl and cleaned his muscled chest. His back and arms, bronzed by the sun, bore the white scars of battles past. She shuddered. This blood could have been his. It could have been hers.

Mere hours ago, she’d threatened him, but now, the frightening reality of being on this ship crashed like a heavy stone. I’ll not survive this. The shaking in her limbs returned. Panic raced through her unchecked. Gray edged her vision. She never would have made it in that hold. What if Jaxon was wounded? Or killed?

A squeak slipped past her throat. “I have to sit down.”

Jaxon helped her back to the bed to sit. She tugged at the edges of the blanket, pulling it tight about her.

“You’re not a good color. Deep breaths.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on inhale, exhale. “W-why did you give it back?”

“Your ring?”

She nodded. Her teeth chattered. “You were so angry. You said pirates never gave back, but you did. Why?”

“You earned it.” He slipped his arm around her and let her lean into his embrace. “It’s not every day a woman bests me by gaining my sword.”

She sought shelter within the circle of his arm and rested a cheek upon the smooth skin of his shoulder. His warmth penetrated through the chilling fear. It made her believe she just might live to see the end of this nightmare. “It’s still in your desk.”

“You didn’t use the key?”

“I did, but I’ve run out of pockets and rats ate my bag.” She shrugged. “Do you suppose Cookie will remember the clothes to ‘cover me arse’?”

He laughed at her imitation of Cookie’s gruff voice and crude words. “I’ll remind him.”

“Thank you.” She tucked her chin and snuggled closer.

* * * *

Jaxon tucked her against him and tightened his hold. She fit along his side like the ocean cradling the hull. The weight of her felt good and right. Only a thin wool blanket separated him from this unpredictable, unbelievably naked woman. With her overreaction to a wee bit of blood, he didn’t dare tell her Cookie was probably removing lead shot from a man’s belly, stitching up a deep gash, or helping to sew a dead man into his shroud. She might crumble.

How could she shift from fighting fierce to vulnerable and fragile in a hairbreadth? And why did he find that fact so damn intriguing? She was as dangerous as a lit cannon. Had he forgotten that fact? When he cleaned the blood from his chest and arms, he should have washed the sweet taste of her lips from his mouth.

He fought to forget the sight of peach-tipped breasts and the deep curve of a slender waist. Wipe his memory of how she clung to him and softened beneath his kisses when he arrived, and how that kiss had heated to white-hot.

Jaxon moved her aside and stood. Distance was what he needed to remember. He should be on deck and far from his growing fascination with her. Dealing with his wounded and dead would surely erase her from his thoughts.

“I need some clothing myself.” He moved to his wardrobe and pulled out two snowy shirts, tossing one to her. “This will serve till Cookie can scrounge better.”

He gathered his things to leave.

“You’re feeling well now?” he asked her.

Annalise nodded and watched him dress. The intimacy of it was not lost on him. Distance, man.

“Good. I’ll send Cookie down once he’s finished his duties. Mayhap I can have him find you a bit of soap for a proper wash up.”

“I would like that.”

He smiled then caught himself. What was wrong with him? His emotions shifted and darted faster than a school of mirrored smelts. Shirts and soap? No powder and perfume? Fool, what am I thinking? Next, he’d be winding ribbons in her hair and hand feeding her sweets. Idiot. Perhaps he should sit and write a flowery sonnet to the beauty of her smile, and how she was turning him into a sniveling toad. His teeth threatened to crumble as his jaw tightened.

“Oh, Captain Steele?” She stood clutching her blanket and his spare shirt to her chest.

What is it now? Does she want scones and tea? He snapped. “Captain Steele? Woman, since you’ve been here, you’ve thrown up on me, held a weapon on me, kissed me soundly, wept on my chest, and had me strip you naked. Now, you decide to be proper? You swing like the bloody tide.”

He watched her notch her chin. “All I wanted to say was thank you.”

Jaxon added, Make me act like a mangy horse’s arse to his list of what she’d accomplished. “Then just say it. Dammit.”

“Fine,” she snapped back.

He welcomed her annoyance. Better her anger than her kisses. He wanted her to push him away before he lost more than his mind.

She glanced at the shirt in her hands and lifted golden eyes to his. They held no anger. She had risen to take his bait a moment ago, but now the gentleness in her eyes set her own hook into his heart. “Thank you, Jaxon.”

* * * *

Later that day, eight white shrouds lined the sides of the ship. Jaxon moved slowly past each one in a silent salute honoring their service to him. Eight men’s bodies waiting to slip into the sea, with weights lashed to their ankles and a final sail stitched through their nose. A gruesome practice, but better to know a man is truly dead than to slide a body not quite done living.

The crew gathered to show their respects. Gavin Quinn shouted, “Ship’s Company…Off hats.” Every head bowed. Jaxon opened the worn bible and said the well-versed words over each body before committing it to the sea.

“Good men, these.” Cookie stood at Jaxon’s side after the crew dismissed.

“They were indeed.” He tucked the Good Book under his arm. Behind him, the sails were reset to catch the wind and the Scarlet Night was once again on her way.

“Hope eight will be enough fer today. Got two more below hangin’ on by luck and a prayer. Doing my damnedest to pull ’em through.”

The Scarlet gained speed. Jaxon slapped Cookie on the shoulder. “Death gives little quarter, but my gold’s on you.”

Quinn joined them. “I’ve got the tallies for you, Captain.”

Jaxon looked over the figures. Quinn’s accounting was impeccable.

“The French ship was full to bursting with silks.” Quinn indicated the count. “Some gold, silver. Foodstuffs, medicinals.” He showed Jaxon the disbursement due each man, the share the King “stole,” and what came to him as Captain.

“The men will need to move the choicest items into your cabin, sir, of course.”

“Of course.” How would he hide his beautiful stowaway during the transfer? “I’ll see to that, Quinn. You’ve already worked more hours than most. Take a meal and a rest.”

“Aye, Capt’n, just as soon as I check on the storage of those silks. If they’re to be worth anything once we reach harbor, they need to be kept high and dry.”

Jaxon watched him go. Quinn wouldn’t rest until everything was stowed to his satisfaction. Cookie slipped away as well, concerned about the two men whose lives depended on the next few crucial hours.

As they had for the past few days, his thoughts returned to Annalise. Thank you, Jaxon. The way she said his name caught him like a blow to the chest. Wasn’t it enough visions of her pale breasts haunted him? Did he need to have her voice in his head as well? Jaxon.

He paced the deck from stem to stern and back. His heels marking each step against the gentle roll of the deck. A scowl tightened his brow. They still had weeks at sea. He would never survive sharing the same quarters with her. Either she’d kill him in his sleep, or he’d die a thousand deaths trying to resist the sweet bit of heaven he was sure to find between her thighs. He should just hand her his pistol.

Then something she said stopped him. The duke in London who’d sent her the bloody ring. She said his name was Benedict Wolfsan. Giselle’s duke? His coach bore the initials BW. Nay, a coincidence surely.