Читать книгу Within A Captain's Hold - Lisa A. Olech - Страница 9

Her eyes flew open. It was no dream. He’d captured her. She tried to scramble away from the man sitting on the edge of the bed. Ignoring the rise of bile in her throat, she called upon her last shred of strength. She shoved at the tangle of blankets and knocked things to the floor.

“No, no, calm yourself.” He grasped her elbow. “I’ll not hurt you. We’ve both been through a long night, but I dare say you’ll survive the day.”

She yanked her arm from his hand. Her heart pounded. Blood rushed in her ears.

The bed she laid upon nestled in a niche built into the curve of the boat’s side. If she retreated any farther, she’d be trapped. The captain’s broad shoulders encased in damp linen blocked her view of the rest of the room. He smelled of sea, rain, and heat. She released a shuddered breath.

He scowled at her and moved away to sit behind a massive writing table littered with parchments and leather-bound books. Annalise blinked to focus. She’d never seen such a fine desk. Oak dolphins leaped up each leg. Iron straps held the piece to the floor. Tall-masted ships sailed in carved relief across its wide front. The piece screamed of power and prestige, as did the man seated behind it.

He raised a small wooden pail with a short leather mug tied to its handle and filled the cup. Returning to the bed, he handed it to her.

“’Tis weak ale. You need to drink, but go slow. Don’t need you soiling my boots again.”

She peered into the cup before meeting his stare. “I-I soiled your boots?”

“You did.” He moved to a stack of trunks in every size and description. Sliding a flat-topped case close to the bed, he sat, once more blocking her exit.

“I’m sorry.” She clutched the mug with shaky hands.

He stayed too close. Anna looked for a way out. There was none. She started to hyperventilate. The alcove closed in around her. If she could just get by him. Then what? Her mind felt jumbled, and between the pain in her leg and the nausea in her belly, there was a good chance she’d soil his boots again by drinking the ale. Her powerful thirst won out, however. She took small, cautious sips.

“You can make it up to me. Tell me who you are and give me the name of the man who brought you aboard.”

“No one brought me aboard.” She spoke into the cup.

“No one? Then how do you come to be on my ship?” His words were clipped and sharp.

This wasn’t the plan. Panic snaked through her. What now? Come on, Anna, think. How could she when the captain’s nearness caused all her senses to collide? “What are you going to do to me?”

He rubbed at the dark growth of beard shadowing his chin. “Do? Interesting question. I’ve a list of answers, but none you’ll like.” He gave her a hard stare. “If it’s true, and you’re here on your own accord, a better question would be what are you going to do for me? You’re a stowaway on my ship, and I want to know why. Then we’ll discuss what you’ll owe me. I am a pirate, after all. I do little for no profit and nothing that doesn’t benefit me or my crew.”

Annalise shook her head. He’s confused or perhaps he’s trying to frighten her. Teach her a lesson for sneaking aboard. Her stomach gave an unhealthy twist. “A pirate? No, that’s wrong. I heard…I understood you were a privateer.”

He scowled. “Pirate, privateer, one is the same as the other to me. My crew doesn’t know the difference. Half of them would view you as bad luck, slit your lovely throat, and toss you to the sharks. The other half would fight to take turns with you,” his gaze traveled the length of her body, “tempting as you are, then slit your throat, and throw you to the sharks. Followed closely by what remained of me, I’m afraid.”

Annalise clutched the bedclothes to her chest. The ale rolled in her stomach. Thrown to the sharks? They were going to kill her. She shook her head in stunned disbelief. No, this was not the plan.

“It’s a bit of good fortune for you only my cook and I know you’re here. And, little Miss Whoever-you-are, I intend to keep it that way. Once we land in Port Royal, I’ll figure out what to do with you. Until then, you’re to remain hidden in this cabin and under my protection for the remainder of the voyage. Is that understood?”

Anna continued to shake her head. Port Royal? “No…” The word slipped between cold, trembling lips.

“No?”

“That’s not right.” A wave of hysterics engulfed her. Her fingers turned to ice and went numb as chills crept up each arm. “You said Port Royal. That’s wrong. You’re not a pirate. You’re a privateer. Your ship is heading to Port St. Maria. He told me. Why would he lie? He said the Scarlet Night is bound for Port St. Maria.” Hysterics bloomed in her chest.

He gripped the tops of her arms “Who told you this? Don’t lie to me. Who are you tossing? Give me the bastard’s name, so I can kill the both of you.”

“I didn’t lie. Let go of me.” She jerked away from him. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m not with any of your men. The cup of ale splashed to the floor.

Cold rage coming from the captain frightened her to her very core. Visions of circling sharks made bile rise in her throat. She shoved past him with all the strength she could muster and tried to stand. No air. Can’t breathe. “I m-must get to Port St. Maria.” Her injured leg crumbled beneath her, and he caught her about the waist. Weak as she was, fear made her push at him. She had to stand. If only she could make her legs support her.

Captain Steele raised a mocking eyebrow as he released her and let her drop from his grasp into a tangle upon the floor. “Did you think to swim there yourself? You’re weak as an eastern breeze.” He laughed. “You’ll not be going anywhere near St. Maria. Not on this ship.”

She scrambled backward. “Please, don’t kill me. I-I’m not lying. You have to believe me. I only want…need to get to Port St. Maria.” She backed herself into a corner where more fat trunks lined the walls. The dark captain stood, staring down at her as she tugged at the hem of her chemise. She was practically naked. Where were her skirts? Maybe killing her wasn’t his only objective.

She wrapped an arm across her chest and tucked her bare legs within the thin cloth. The movement caused the binding on her leg to pull. Pain radiated into her hip. “Where are my clothes?” She started to shake.

“I dumped them into the sea.” He crossed his arms.

“W-what? Why?”

“They reeked like a dead man’s breath. Trust me, you didn’t want them back.”

“Did you…?”

“Strip you? I did indeed.”

He looked quite pleased with himself. Annalise tried once more to get to her feet and escape, but her legs failed to support her causing her stomach to crash like waves against the rocks.

“Don’t hurt me.” The room started to sway. Bracing herself against one of the trunks, she held on to her head. The sickness crept over her. No, not again. “Does this damn floor ever stop rocking?”

Captain Steele swung open one of the diamond-paned windows that followed the bow of the back wall. He helped her stand, despite her struggles against him. “I’m not going to hurt you. Stand still. You need fresh air.”

The first signs of a pearl-gray morning showed her miles and miles of dull green sea, but with it, a blessed breeze blew past her cheeks.

“Take some deep breaths and keep your eyes on that line, there,” he pointed, “where the sea and sky meet.” His voice was low, and somehow calming.

She gripped the windowsill pulling great gulps of salted air into her lungs. Her head began to clear, but her legs still trembled like sponge pudding.

The captain caught her around the waist and held her against the solid wall of his chest. His nearness unsettling. It muddled her brain. One minute he seemed intent on killing her. The next he was being kind. She didn’t know what to think or which to fear most.

The heat of his body penetrated the thin fabric of her chemise. His warm breath brushed her cheek. Where had he told her to look?

He spoke to her as if she were a child. “I’ve got you. Just keep taking the air. Deep breaths.” The smell of the sea, rain-washed air, and the unique spice of his skin made her dizzy in a different way.

“I hate this boat,” she rasped.

Captain Steele gave a short laugh. “And she hates you calling her a boat. The Scarlet’s a fine sloop, and you need to call her a ship. She likes being the only woman about, too. No wonder you two got off to such a rocky start.”

“I’d be most happy to leave.”

He chuckled again. The rich rumble spread through her body. “And I’d be more than happy to oblige you, but there’s still the matter of who you are and how you came to be here. Why are you so desperate to get to Port St. Maria?”

Anna stiffened. How could she begin to tell him about the months leading up to this moment? Where would she start? Should she tell him about fighting her way through a devastating fire to save Alice and herself while flames licked at their hems, only to lose everything and everyone most dear to them? Perhaps she should tell him about being sent to London to start anew and meeting the madman who brought a new, indescribable horror to their lives. He believed she wasn’t bound to a member of his crew, but would he believe she was truly in danger and didn’t sneak aboard his ship on some brainless whim? Would he believe Port St. Maria was the only place she and Alice could find safety and their last scrap of hope? What could she possibly say to convince him to turn his ship in another direction? The mere suggestion sounded crazy, even to her.

Everything went horribly wrong. They were foolish to believe their plan would work. Now she was in the hands of pirates, barely able to stand on her own feet. How would she save them? She was adrift with nothing. She didn’t even have the clothes on her back. Panic threaded up her spine again. Wait. Her bag. The meager remnants of her life’s possessions were in that burlap sack.

She pulled out of his grasp. “Did you find a small bundle? I left my…provisions in that awful hold.” Just the mention of food sent her stomach on another tumble. She clutched at his arm to steady herself and made the mistake of falling into the changing depths of his blue eyes. His dark brows knit into a scowl. A growth of beard shadowed his jaw and framed his grim mouth. Her traitorous leg failed her again.

He caught her. “You’re still green around the gills. I doubt you’re thinking about food. You’d better lie back down and rest that leg.” Before she could respond, he scooped her up and laid her back in the softness of his bed.

The intimate gesture startled her.

“I’ll see your bag is found, and I give you my word you’ll get it back.” He pulled a thick blanket over her and paused to brush his fingertips across her cheek. “If you answer my questions.”