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On the other side of the hatch, light flickered from a candle.
Virginia blinked, sweat now blurring her vision, and made out a white form on the other side of the hatch, holding up the candle, turning slowly and thoroughly assessing the space there. She couldn’t breathe and she feared suffocation.
He stepped through the hatch.
Virginia didn’t move because she could not. He held up the candle, saw her instantly and their gazes locked.
Virginia could not look away. This man was the ruthless monster responsible for numerous deaths; she was not prepared for the sight of him. He had the face of a Greek god come down from Mount Olympus—dangerously, disturbingly handsome—high planes, hard angles, piercing silver eyes. But that face—the face of an angel—was carved in granite—and it was the face of a sea devil instead.
He was also far taller than she had assumed—she knew her head would just reach his chest—and broad-shouldered, his hips lean. His legs, while impossibly muscular from the days he spent riding the sea, were encased in bloody britches. Blood covered his white linen shirt as well. He wore a sheathed sword, a dagger was in his belt, but otherwise, she saw no other weapon.
Virginia bit her lip, finally breathing, the sound loud and harsh in the small space they now shared. She did not have to know anything else about this man to know that he was cruel and ruthless and incapable of kindness or mercy.
He broke the tense silence. “Come here.”
She remained standing beside a number of piled-up crates. She wasn’t sure she could obey even if she wished to—she wasn’t sure that she could move. Virginia finally understood Mrs. Davis’s paralyzing fear.
“I am not going to hurt you. Come out.”
His tone was one of authority—she sensed he was never disobeyed. Virginia continued to stare into his cold eyes—she was incapable of looking away—as if hypnotized. He looked angry. She saw it now, because he was glancing at all of her—her mouth, her hair, her small waist, her sodden skirts—and his eyes were turning stormy gray, his jaw was flexed, his temples ticking visibly. It was very clear he did not care for the sight of her.
She took another huge breath, seeking courage, her hand holding the pistol behind her back, in the folds of her navy-blue skirts. Virginia wet her lips. “What—what do you want?”
“I want you to come here, as I never give an order twice, and this is the third time.” Impatience edged his voice.
Virginia realized there was no choice. But stubbornly, childishly, she wanted reassurance from the least reassuring human being she had ever had the misfortune to meet. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked hoarsely.
“I am taking you to my ship,” he said flatly.
He was going to abuse her—rape her. Virginia willed herself to stop shaking, but the trembling refused to cease. “You have just attacked an innocent ship,” she managed to say hoarsely. “But I am a young, defenseless woman, and I ask mercy of you now.”
His mouth curved into a smile at once mirthless and merciless. “You will not be harmed,” he said.
She started. “What?”
“Does that disappoint you?” he asked.
She stared, stunned, trying to determine whether to believe him or not. Then she realized she should not believe him, because he was a murderer, which meant he must be a liar as well. “I am not going to your ship of my own free will,” she heard herself say.
His eyes widened in real surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
She tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go, and the wood crates dug into her back and her hand as it held the pistol.
Suddenly he laughed. The sound was raw, as if laughter was hard for him. “You dare to disobey me, the captain of this ship?”
“You are not—” she began, and bit her lip, hard. Do shut up, she told herself.
His smile was hard, his eyes colder than a block of ice. “I beg to differ with you. I am the captain of the Americana, as I have seized her and she has surrendered to me.” And then he started for her. “I also have no patience. We have a fine nor’easter,” he said, as if that explained everything.
Virginia didn’t move, planning to strike him over the head with the pistol when he reached her side. But he was so tall, she would never succeed in wielding that blow. She glanced between his legs and decided to strike him there.
The space was so small in the hold that two of his hard strides closed the distance between them. Virginia’s heart was banging so rapidly in her chest that it hurt. She stiffened as he reached for her, and as his large hand closed over her left arm, she swung the pistol at him.
He had the reflexes of a wild beast. He leapt aside, the butt of the gun grazing one rock-hard thigh, which it actually bounced off. His grip tightened on her arm and she cried out.
“That, mademoiselle, was distinctly unladylike.”
Tears filled her gaze in a rush.
“But should I expect more from a vixen who thinks to shoot me?” he demanded.
She blinked and looked into pale, opaque eyes. So he knew. The adage was that the eyes were a window to the soul. If that was so, this man was soulless. “What are you going to do with me?” she whispered roughly.
“I told you. You will be transferred aboard my ship.” He removed the pistol from her grip, tossing it aside. He gestured at the ladder in the other hold, never releasing her arm.
Virginia didn’t move. “Why? I’m not pretty.”
He started, then his gaze narrowed with comprehension. “Why? Because you shall be my guest, Miss Hughes.”
She gasped at the sound of her name and real fear flooded within her. An instant later, her shrewd wit saved her—he had surely just learned her name from the captain or his crew. “My guest? Or your victim?” she whispered.
“God, you are defiant for such a little wench!” He moved her forward and her feet had no choice but to rise and fall, the one after the other. Her sodden skirts quickly tangled, making it hard to keep her balance. “Can you climb the ladder or do I have to throw you over my shoulder?” he asked.
But she had no intention of being manhandled by him until there was no other choice. Still, she heard herself say, “Captain, sir! I am on my way to London—my business is most urgent—you must let me continue on!”
He reached for her, clearly intending to hoist her into his arms, obviously devoid of any more vestiges of patience.
Virginia whirled, grabbed the ladder, gripped her skirts and scrambled upward. But she heard no movement behind her and suddenly she had an awful notion. On one of the top rungs, she paused and glanced down.
He was studying her calves and ankles, fully revealed in her frilly pantalettes. There was an odd look in his eyes and it made her heart skip wildly in fear.
His gaze lifted. “I haven’t seen a woman in pantalettes in years.”
Her color increased and a cruel comment made by Sarah Lewis when she had been in school in Richmond flashed through her mind: “Virginia, I hate to be the one to tell you, but those things are not in fashion anymore!”
The heat in her cheeks increased. She realized he had begun to climb up and she scrambled out of the hatch and into the hold where the ship’s crew slept.
She gagged as she hurried through, acutely aware of her captor an inch behind her, giving her no chance to escape. But she would have to escape, and soon, wouldn’t she? It was that or become reduced to being his whore.
Another ladder faced them. Virginia did not want to climb up first. The pirate lightly pressed her forward. “Go up, Miss Hughes.”
She dared to face him. “It is clear you are no gentleman, sir, but keep your eyes to yourself.”
An incredulous look crossed his face, followed by amusement, and for one moment, Virginia expected him to chuckle. “Miss Hughes, I am not interested in your charms.”
“Good,” she snapped, as her temper suddenly reared. “Then you can leave me on this ship and let me continue on my way while you rape someone else.”
He stared at her for a long, tense moment. “I told you that you would be my guest.”
“And I am to believe a murderer?”
His jaw flexed. “You may believe as you will, but I am not in the habit of raping my guests. Frankly, I am not in the habit of rape at all. Go up the ladder.”
“Then why?” she asked, confused.
“I am very tired of your insolence, Miss Hughes.”
Virginia saw that here, at least, was the unfettered truth. She hoisted her skirts and scrambled up, and this time she made certain she did not look back.
Above, clouds were scudding in the blue sky and the stench of death was everywhere. Virginia choked upon seeing five corpses of American sailors laid out neatly in a row, clearly about to be tossed out to sea. One of them was dear Captain Horatio. She fought genuine tears. He had been more than kind to her—he had, in an odd way, reminded her of her own father.
The rest of the American crew was shackled. Then she saw Mr. and Mrs. Davis, holding each other. She turned abruptly, suddenly furious.
“What will you do with Mr. and Mrs. Davis? Are they to be your guests, as well?” Her tone was filled with loathing and sarcasm.
“No.” He wasn’t even looking at her now. “Mac! Gus!”
A brawny seaman armed with two pistols, each tucked into his belt, two daggers and a sword hurried forward, followed by a slender blond lad, also heavily armed. Both men bore their share of blood, not their own. “Cap?” the redhead asked quickly.
“Gus will take Miss Hughes to the Defiance. Make certain that her bags accompany her. Issue the following orders—no one is to speak to her, look at her or acknowledge her in any way. She is my personal property, and as far as the crew is concerned, she does not exist. Am I clear?”
Mac nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Gus nodded grimly as well. Neither man looked her way, not even once.
Virginia choked in disbelief. She was his personal property? “I thought I was your guest!” she cried.
The captain ignored her, as did Mac and Gus. “Mac, you captain this ship,” the golden-haired pirate said. “Sail her to Portsmouth. We’ll take our bounty from the prize agent there. Drogo, Gardener and Smith will stay on board to crew for you. Handpick ten others. I will be following,” he said.
Mac blinked. “Yer comin’ with us to Portsmouth?”
He clapped a hand on Mac’s broad shoulder. “Our plans have changed,” he said flatly. “You will rejoin the Defiance in Portsmouth.”
“Yessir.”
Virginia, listening intently and watching closely, felt her heart sink. Why were his plans changing? She prayed that it had nothing to do with her.
And what did he intend to do with her? It crossed her mind then that she was well enough dressed for him to be thinking of ransoming her. On the other hand, Mrs. Davis was the one with the pearl necklace, the diamond rings and the expensive clothing.
The pirate said, “Mr. and Mrs. Davis, I suggest you go down to your berth. We have a fine nor’easter and we’re setting sail immediately. You will be allowed to disembark in Portsmouth.”
Clearly in terror, the Davis couple rushed past the pirate and disappeared into the hold below.
Now Virginia had a very bad feeling indeed. Why wasn’t he robbing Mrs. Davis? Her rings were worth thousands of dollars. A new fear—and a new dread—filled her.
The pirate started away.
“Captain O’Neill, sir?” Gus hurried after him.
O’Neill didn’t stop. “You may address Miss Hughes for the sole purpose of finding the location of her bags and escorting her to my cabin, Gus.” He did not look back at Virginia, not even once. He leapt onto the higher portion of the deck where clearly many of his cannons had done a great deal of damage to the middle mast and sails. Several pirates seemed to be about to attempt repairs to the rigging there.
“Lash the mainmast,” he commanded. “There’s good canvas below. Replace the main staysail. The rest can be patched. Put everyone on it. You have one hour and we set sail. I will not lose this wind.”
Virginia stared at his tall, arrogant figure, until she realized that someone was speaking to her.
“Miss Hughes, please, this way, Miss, er, Hughes.”
Virginia turned and faced the blond man, who seemed younger than herself. His cheeks were flushed and he was not looking at her, clearly taking his captain’s orders very seriously, indeed. “Where are we going?”
Still gazing past her shoulder, he said, “To the Defiance. Where are your bags?”
“In the cabin below,” she said, hardly caring about her baggage.
Gus turned, grabbed another young sailor, and sent him below for her luggage. Virginia found herself at the railing where a dinghy waited for her in the swells below. She hesitated, filled with desperation now.
He had said he would not hurt her. She didn’t believe him. She would be a fool to believe him. She dismissed the notion that he intended to ransom her, for he hadn’t looked twice at the wealthy Davis couple. What did he want? What could he possibly want?
The Atlantic Ocean was silvery gray, far darker than his eyes, and it looked as immensely threatening. One false step and she would be immersed in its frigid watery depths. It crossed her mind that another woman would jump to a watery death, saving herself from any further abuse.
She gripped the rail tightly. She had no death wish, and only a fool would choose suicide over life—any kind of life.
“Do not even think about it,” he said, landing catlike by her side.
Virginia flinched and met his brilliant gray eyes.
He stared back and he was very angry, indeed.
Virginia reminded herself to never forget that this man had acute senses—that he did not miss a thing—that he almost had eyes in the back of his head. Perversely, she said, low and almost as angry as he, “If my wish is to jump, the time will come when you will not be able to stop me.”
And he smiled. “Is that a challenge or a threat?”
She inhaled, struck hard by his look, his tone, his words. Something odd happened then. He was standing so close, he was so tall, so virile, so in control, and with the comprehension that he would not allow her to die came a breathless sensation and a fiery tingling to her every nerve. She backed away instantly, nervously, suddenly awash in confusion.
“Get her to the Defiance. And if she even looks at the water, blindfold her,” he snapped to Gus.
Virginia stared. He stared back. In that moment she knew that in any battle that ensued between them, she simply could not win.
Male arms lifted her over a hard shoulder. She cried out, but it was too late, for Gus was climbing down the rope ladder to the dinghy, holding her like a treasured sack of gold. Upside down, she met the pirate’s eyes. It was hard to see clearly from this humiliating position, but she could have sworn that he was frowning harshly at her now.
And by the time she was right side up and seated in the bow, he was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
FROM THE DECKS OF THEAmericana the seas had looked pleasant enough. The moment the dinghy was set free, the small boat leapt and bucked wildly as two sailors rowed it toward the hulk that was the Defiance. Virginia gripped the edge of the boat, sea spray soaking her. A minute ago, the Defiance had seemed so close by. Now it looked terribly far away.
A huge wave took the rowboat high up toward the sky. Virginia bit her lip to keep from crying out and then they were cast at breakneck speed toward the pit of the rushing seas.
But they did not go under. Another frothing swell raised them up again. Virginia hadn’t eaten since that morning, but she realized she was in danger of retching. She managed to tear her gaze from the violence of the ocean and saw that none of the sailors seemed at all concerned. She tried to breathe more naturally but it was impossible. Then her gaze met Gus’s.
