“Captain,” Damon said, interrupting his thoughts. “We could always leave provisions for her and have another ship pick her up once we get to port.”
Nicolai’s eyes narrowed. “That isn’t an option either.”
The Sailing Master shrugged. “T’was a mere thought, is all. Where are we going to put her?”
“She can stay in my quarters. It’s only for a week. We’ll figure out to whom and where she belongs once we get to Nassau,” Nicolai told him. “For now, get the men away from her and make sure you stress that she’s off limits.”
“Aye, sir,” Damon said, moving away to deliver his orders. The disappointment on the men’s faces wasn’t lost on Nicolai as the crowd dispersed and set about towing the ship closer to shore for repairs.
Returning to the young woman still sleeping off a night of drinking, Nicolai crouched down in front of her. His eyes traveled along the frond shelter she’d apparently built, with appreciation. Most women would not have had the wherewithal after such a harrowing experience to build something to protect them from the elements. The fact that she had constructed even this basic, makeshift tent elevated her in Nicolai’s esteem as well as piqued his interest.
A need to protect and ensure her safety welled up in his chest causing Nicolai to question its origin. Though he’d encountered plenty of women throughout the years who were innocent, many more whose innocence he’d personally stolen; none had ever inspired the emotions he was currently feeling just from watching this tiny slip of a female sleep.
He inwardly snorted at himself. Enough of this madness, he chastised himself mentally. His life had neither room nor any place for a woman such as the one he was eyeing… or any other female for that matter save the whore he visited upon occasion. Pulling the bottle from her lax arms, he uncorked it, up ending the contents on her face.
She came awake with a start, sputtering and using words no lady should utter, let alone know. For reasons he couldn’t name, Nicolai found her reaction all the more endearing.
Adrienne pushed the heavy fall of her now rum soaked hair off her face as she struggled to sit up. Her head was pounding viciously but the moment her turquoise eyes met those of the large man in front of her, she realized she had bigger problems than the headache and horrible taste in her mouth. What was obviously crew, milled around on the beach behind him as others used longboats to tow a massive ship close to shore.
“Sorry to wake you, but I thought you’d want to know you’re surrounded by pirates,” the man said, flashing a grin that revealed, straight, even white teeth and dimple in one cheek. It softened his rugged features, which up to that moment had seemed harsh and intimidating. His voice was lightly accented with a strange dialect though his English was proper and perfect.
Adrienne sat up, brushing sand from her face and arms as she attempted to hide her fear. “It seems you are rude as well as pirates,” she huffed, sloughing off the rum soaked grit.
“There were other ways my men and I could have woken you,” he said, his eyes traveling down from her face and resting on her rounded breasts, which were barely covered by the torn shift she wore.
Adrienne raised her hands in an attempt to cover herself as the gravity of his words sunk into her rum hazed brain.
“If being presented with a choice of what you’re implying, I have to say I prefer the current method, sir,” she said, her voice wavering a fraction though she determined she’d show no fear.
“Just as well, madam,” the man said, standing. “I’m not certain you’d have survived the alternative.”
“Nor would I have wanted to,” she muttered before raising her eyes to meet his. “Pray what brings the scourges of the sea to such an inhospitable island? Burying plunder?”
Nicolai’s lip cocked up in amusement. Most females would be cowering in fear, but not this one. Oh, she was terrified for sure; he could all but smell the fear, but she was as brave as she was quirky in her humor.
“It seems the storm effected us both, though it was obviously worse for you,” Nicolai said.
He held out his hand. “Come. The ship is close to shore now. I’ll help you on board so you can clean up while my men conduct the necessary repairs on the vessel.”
Staring at the rough palm held out to her, Adrienne hesitated, seeming to shrink from the appendage.
“M’lady, ‘tis a hand, not a snake. It will not bite,” Nicolai said, dropping his voice an octave in order to cajole her into accepting. He didn’t like the idea of her onboard any more than she seemed to, however, allowing her to roam the beach in her see-through garments among men hungry for a woman’s body wasn’t an option either.
Her eyes rose to his, as blue as the ocean behind him and just as tumultuous.
“Says you. How do I know that once I’m aboard your ship you won’t rape and murder me?”
“If rape and murder were what I had in mind, I assure you I’d conduct those tasks where we are, rather than having to rid my quarters of your blood and body afterward,” he challenged.
“I cannot argue with your logic. Still, perhaps I should remain here, as I do not know you nor the state of your character other than you’re admittedly a pirate,” she mused.
Nicolai laughed. “Madam, if staying here and suffering dehydration and starvation are your way of attempting suicide, I can assure you there are quicker and more humane ways to do away with one’s self.”
Confused by his meaning, Adrienne blinked up at the man.
“I’ll put it plainly. If you choose to stay here rather than come aboard, you’ll die an agonizingly slow death from starvation and exposure. Aside from that, my men need access to this beach in order to secure the ship. I cannot have you traversing the sand in… that,” Nicolai said, indicating her state of dress with a nod of his head toward her shift.
Considering the validity of his words, Adrienne swallowed hard, her face turning a deep shade of red when she grasped his meaning. Because the sand wouldn’t likely swallow her up as she now wished, she placed her small hand in his, allowing him to help her rise. She weaved as she did so, her head spinning from the amount of alcohol she’d consumed the previous night in order to stay warm. Nicolai’s arm shot out to steady her until she regained her balance.
Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, she allowed him to lead her away from the makeshift shelter toward one of the longboats.
Cat-calls and whistles from the men surrounded them as they passed by but a hard look from her escort quieted them immediately as the men returned to their tasks.
She had no idea who this person was, but he was obviously the leader of this band of rogues and an impressive one at that. Adrienne spared a glance as he settled her into one of the boats.
He was massive. So tall, that he towered over the others around them. He was also broad, his chest making two of any of the men she’d known. There wasn’t an ounce of fat to be found on him, either. He was so unlike the over-privileged gentleman that frequented her father’s house; all of whom had a tendency to be soft in the midsection as well as in their jaw lines. The white cotton of his shirt outlined the muscles underneath as britches revealed a firm backside and strong legs.
Blonde hair with streaks of platinum from a life at sea hung just to his shoulders while pale golden stubble lined his cheeks. He had a jaw that was as strong as it was angular. A perfect straight nose, full lips, and jade green eyes completed what Adrienne found to be a very pleasing package. Quite frankly, he was the most attractive man she’d ever encountered and though a pirate, seemed friendly enough.
She allowed him to help her climb the ladder on to the massive ship as men hung on ropes fashioned into saddles while they worked at tearing off and replacing boards on the hull. It seemed his vessel was better built than the one she’d been on. At the very least, it had managed to stay intact after being tossed about at sea.
Another gentleman appeared over the side of the ship, offering her his hand as he pulled her onboard. The man wore a leathe
r whip coiled at his side, giving testament to his position as ship’s quartermaster. He was nearly as tall as the captain, with dark hair and eyes that gave him a roguish appearance though he treated her gently upon helping her aboard. His gaze was both curious and amused as he cast a glance at the man coming over the ships railing behind her.
Her rescuer landed on the wooden deck of the ship effortlessly where he swept down in a low, regal bow.
“Welcome aboard The Chameleon, my lady. I’m Captain Nicolai Mikhalovic and this is my quartermaster, Cooper Stiles.”
Adrienne curtsied though felt it overdone given the state of her attire and the fact that they were again, pirates.
“Adrienne St. John,” she said upon rising. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Have a few of the gowns we obtained from the last excursion brought to my quarters as well as the bathing tub and hot water to fill it,” he told his quartermaster. He didn’t miss Cooper’s raised brow at his command but was glad the man saved any words he might have for a later time.
Nicolai led her in the direction of his quarters off the main deck toward the back of the ship.
“I have to say that I’m quite interested to hear how you became in need of my services, my lady.”
He directed her down a corridor before opening a heavy teak door. Nicolai ushered her through it, and Adrienne’s gasp of surprise echoed through the room as she took in her surroundings.
His cabin was nothing short of opulent. Even the chambers she’d been given on her father’s ship hadn’t been this nearly this comfortable or indulgent. She said as much.
Nicolai lifted a shoulder as he watched her survey his quarters. “I enjoy my creature comforts, Miss St. John.”
“Clearly,” she answered, running a finger delicately over the spine of one of his precious books. “Piracy has served you well, it seems.”
“As it’ll serve you until we reach Nassau in a week’s time. You’re free to enjoy all that this room has to offer but I must insist you not walk above deck unescorted. Someone will see to your needs and ensure you’re kept as comfortable as possible during your stay in my chambers.”
“So, I’m not a prisoner then?” She asked, turning to study him. “I confess that I didn’t fully believe I would remain unscathed upon boarding your vessel.”
Nicolai shook his head. “No, madam, you are my honored guest. One such as yourself should never be held an unwilling prisoner. Unless you desired it be so?”
His voice dropped an octave while his eyes glittered with a heat that implied a different sort of captivity. Adrienne felt her body respond with the strangest sensation of heat and tingling, which moved from her head to her feet, causing her toes to curl into the soft rug beneath them.
“I’m sure I’ll be content with the status quo, Captain Mikhalovic,” she stuttered, her cheeks blossoming pink under his gaze. “We certainly wouldn’t want to give your men the wrong impression about my status nor my morality.”
He crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe assessing her, the corner of his mouth lifted in a semi-smile that wasn’t quite enough to bring out the dimple on his cheek.
“I’m sure you’re correct. As long as you do as I’ve instructed, I can guarantee your reputation will remain intact while you are in my care.”
“I’m obliged,” Adrienne said, her skin warming again under his intense stare.
“You never answered my question as to how you found yourself stranded on Serranilla Bank?”
Adrienne took a seat on one of the chairs situated around the table in an effort to hide the lower half of her body. His gaze had made her aware of how inappropriately dressed she was in tandem with the realization she was alone in a man’s quarters without a chaperone. Said man, who had yet to make any false moves toward her, was eyeing her with keen interest that she found both frightening and exciting. Her father spared her little more than a passing glance and muttered commentary here and there and the suitors that were introduced to her were more interested in winning her father’s favor than hers. After all, any man who married her would become heir to the St. John fortune. Adrienne was unused to having any male’s full attention, especially one so intoxicatingly handsome.
“Much the same as you, I suppose,” she answered, swallowing nervously. “I was on a ship out of Bombay bound for the colonies when a squall hit. We were tossed about for sometime and spotting the island, the captain attempted to move toward land in hopes of weathering the storm in safer waters. We struck something, a reef, I believe, though it was much farther out than we expected. It cracked the hull. The ship began to take on water. A wave crashed into us and I hit my head. The next thing I remembered, I woke up on the beach.”
Nicolai nodded. “We hit several squalls once we crossed into the Caribbean Sea,” he said. “The weather is unpredictable this time of year as well as the tide levels. How long were you stranded?”
Adrienne thought for a moment. “Two days, I believe, though I have no idea how long I was unconscious once I washed ashore.”
“You’re very lucky. Had my ship not needed repairs, we would not have stopped on this island. Why were you enroute to the colonies?”
She heaved a troubled sigh.
“I’m something of a trial for my father, it seems. He’s a merchant for the Crown in Bombay and has raised me thus since my mother left to join the colonies when I was little. She had a desire for a more puritanical lifestyle, you see. Deciding to do so unfettered by husband or a child who was often prone to mischief, she settled in the Carolinas.
“In my early years, he allowed me somewhat of a free hand.” She stopped, looking away in thought. “I suppose I took advantage of the freedom he granted me.”
Her cheeks colored again, this time possibly from shame. Nicolai was intrigued when she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts before continuing.
“Once I came of age, my capers were no longer amusing to my father as well as the fact that I’m nineteen and as yet unmarried. He decided I’d be better off in the New World. My mother had written of a gentleman who is quite the eligible bachelor in search of a wife. It seems she and my father agreed that betrothal to said gentleman would be in my best interests. I suppose they hope marriage to a Puritan will help curb my wild ways.”
He’d only just met her but already Nicolai could tell she had a spark, a lust for life, that while probably caused her father numerous amounts of gray hair, matched Nicolai’s perfectly. He couldn’t imagine her married off to some stodgy religious fanatic who would surely work to dim the light inside her. It seemed almost criminal.
“And is marrying this colonial gentleman something you desire?” He came further into the room to take the chair opposite of her, finding her increasingly interesting.
She shook her head. “No. Not at all, but what choice as a female do I have? There are three choices for women. You’re either kept by your father, kept by a husband or become a lady of the night. I would have preferred to stay in my father’s home but becoming the broodmare to a wealthy man is a far better fate than prostitution, where you either die of the pox, die in childbirth, or from starvation.”
Indeed the outlook of an unmarried woman turned out by her family was a grim thing, of that Nicolai couldn’t argue. What could she have done that was so bad her father was practically exiling her, he wondered.
Her humorless chuckle had his eyes drifting back to hers. It wasn’t until she spoke again that Nicolai realized he’d asked his question aloud rather than to himself.
“Which occasion would you like a detailed description of, Captain?” She huffed, her eyes dancing with devilment. “My personal favorite was the incident involving a tabletop cannon, which the gardener’s son instructed me how to use. I blew through the window in my father’s study, catching his prized topiaries on fire. They didn’t survive the blast, I’m afraid,” she deadpanned, her face a mask of solemnity.
Nicolai laughed, the sound filling the room, taking them both surpr
ise. At his reaction, Adrienne guessed he didn’t laugh often.
“Was that the event which found you aboard a ship bound for the Carolinas?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“No,” she sighed, drumming her fingers against the wooden table. “T’was another matter entirely.”
Their conversation was interrupted when men began to file into the room, carrying buckets of steaming water, while two more carried in the copper bathing tub, setting it between the bed and the table.
Nicolai rose from his chair, opened his storage trunk at the foot of his bed. Pulling out a bar of finely milled vanilla scented soap, he brought it to his nose and inhaled. He’d been saving it send back to England for his adopted sister, Charlotte, but it seemed Adrienne would get better use of it at the moment.
He laid the cheesecloth wrapped soap on the table along with a tortoise shell comb as another man entered his chamber with an armload of gowns from a French merchant ship. He instructed the man to leave the dresses hanging over one of the chairs and waited until his crew had exited the room.
Nicolai avoided Adrienne’s curious gaze when the plethora of items were laid out for her use. She might be forthcoming with the details of her life, but Nicolai was not. He’d survived as long as he had by keeping the details of his life to himself. It was a trend he would continue.
“I’ll leave you to your bath, madam. Call out if you need anything. I’ll dine with you in here this evening.” Bowing to her, Nicolai left.
Alone now, Adrienne inspected the gowns. They were made from some of the finest silks and muslins she’d ever seen, though it’d be a miracle if they fit her curvy body.
She held one of pink lawn up, careful not to brush it against her filthy shift. It was beautiful. As beautiful as anything she’d ever owned and she recognized the design as Parisian.
Placing it back with the others, she allowed her fingers to dance over the women’s undergarments that the men had also brought before picking up the bundle of soap from the table, repeating Nicolai’s action. Bringing it up to her nose, she sniffed delicately, the scent of vanilla pleasing her. Adrienne dropped the soap into the water before stripping her filthy shift from her body.
Black Wolf Page 2
