“Evening, lassie.”
Spinning around in shock, I backed up alongside the wall, the weight of my skirts pressing against me. Hopefully they were hiding my shaking legs.
Captain Rodrigues stood in the doorway, a crooked, drunken grin plastered on his face. His wig had disappeared, revealing patchy gray hair underneath, tufts of which were longer than others. Bloodshot eyes devoured me hungrily, and I desperately looked everywhere except at them. His black buckle shoes were scuffed, there was a run in one stocking, and the long ebony coat was missing several of its gold buttons. His frame seemed small in the opening after seeing O’Rourke standing in it. Even the wood of the ship appeared dingier than it had before, as if it were mirroring the dirty, smelly man before me.
“C-Captain,” I stuttered, terror ripping through me at the sound. O’Rourke had only been gone about an hour and I hadn’t expected anyone but him for the rest of the night. Apparently, the captain remembered I was here after all. I’d never been in a situation where rape was a possibility—at least not to my knowledge—and a part of my brain was screaming at Tristan for not keeping me safe like he’d promised. Who were we kidding, really? It was almost impossible to think I could spend three months on this ship and not be seen by the captain.
“Captain!” O’Rourke suddenly appeared behind him, a quick flash of anger crossing his features before being masked by unconcern.
“O’Rourke, why didn’t you remind me we had a lovely lady on board?” The captain’s voice was grainy and swoopy, probably from all his drinking. It didn’t appear he’d stopped once he was on board either. I felt like I was on display in the dark purple and gold dress, the way he continued to stare and lick his lips.
“I was merely waiting for ye to finish yer meal, sir,” O’Rourke stated calmly.
“Nonsense, nonsense,” he replied, waving for me to come towards him. When I didn’t, he laughed a throaty chortle, bloodshot eyes narrowing. “Come, lassie. We’ll take supper in my quarters together.”
Frozen, filled with fear, my gaze flicked to O’Rourke for an instant. He gave me the smallest of nods, his mouth pursed tightly. My emotions, which had been flying all around trying to figure out how we were going to respond to the situation at hand, suddenly settled on fury and I marched forward, repressing the urge to shiver as the captain took my hand.
“There now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The captain chuckled his dark guffaw again and pulled me into the hall, wrapping my arm around his. “O’Rourke, bring our supper to my room. We’ll take a turn around the deck while ye get it ready.”
“Aye, Captain.” There was a slight edge to his voice, but it was gone as soon as I tried to decipher it. Without another word, he passed by us and went off to follow his orders.
Holding tightly to me, Captain Rodrigues towed me in the same direction, but up the stairs to the deck instead of off into the bowels of the ship. As we came out into the fresh air, an involuntary sigh escaped me, my eyes growing wide as I really saw the ship for the first time.
It was just like any other pirate ship I’d seen in movies, but more grand somehow. Everything was in order, put away in its spot, gleaming under the light of the moon. At certain points, lanterns were lit and I could see crew members milling about. The thick ropes were practically majestic, holding it all together. White sails were out, full of wind, pulling us across the water. Here, at the highest place on the deck, it almost gave me the feeling of flying. Cool air brushed over my skin, chilling it slightly, and spray from the ocean would land on me every now and then.
“Beautiful isn’t she, my Adelina.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement, so I remained silent, allowing him to lead me past the helm, where a crewman was minding the red wood and gold inlaid wheel, and down the stairs onto the lower part of the deck. Here, the floor was open to the level below and there were several men sitting around, drinking and playing cards. We didn’t take the next set of stairs down into the pit-like place, though, instead walking around it towards the front of the ship. With each passing moment, I wished I’d had the cloak O’Rourke had said he’d bring me, or at least the shoes.
“Where do ye come from?” Captain Rodrigues’ hand was tight over the top of mine, like he thought I might run.
“Uh, America, Captain.” Why hadn’t I thought up a story by now? I couldn’t very well tell everyone I was from the future. Though, he was so drunk he might believe me.
“Where?”
“The back country?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound so much like a question, but he nodded all the same, accepting my answer.
Nervous, I turned my attention to the sky, silently exhaling at the number of stars and their brightness. A shiver shook me some and I unconsciously moved closer to him, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
“Are ye cold, my dear? Here, take my coat.” He released me and began to shrug out of the tattered cloth.
“Oh, no thank you, I’m fine!” I rushed to say, a fresh puff of stench wafting off him as he moved.
Without any warning, he suddenly turned and slapped me across the face. I cried out at the sting, tripping and catching myself on the edge of the boat, two tears of pain dropping down into the salt water churning beneath us. Before I could even raise a hand to my marked face, my left arm was grabbed forcefully and I spun around, yanked against Captain Rodrigues with surprising strength.
“If I offer ye my coat, ye take it,” he growled, all traces of the bumbling drunk idiot replaced by the fearsome man in front of me now.
“Y-yes, sir.” The words stumbled over themselves as every cell in my entire body yearned to jerk away, yet my brain screamed to hold still. Face burning like I’d been hit with a brick, I felt a small drop of blood running down my cheek from where one of his rings had cut me.
“If you ever tell me no again—”
“Captain!”
Relief washed over me at the sound of O’Rourke’s voice, a surprising amount of what I thought was ire in his tone.
“What?” Captain Rodrigues snapped, jerking me around behind him as he turned to look.
“Yer meal is ready.” The anger I’d heard before was gone and, glancing at his expression, I could see a tiny smile, as if nothing in the world were wrong.
“Ah! Come, mi amor,” he purred, his Spanish roots showing through. “Let us eat.”
Tugged along behind him, I took a moment to place a hand on my aching cheek, wiping the tiny bit of gore away. Much to my surprise, O’Rourke fell in step behind me and covertly offered me a handkerchief. It took all I had to not break down and cry. All of the day’s events were starting to solidify in my mind and become real. And now I was off to dinner with a man who’d already drawn blood from me.
O’Rourke didn’t leave when we entered the Captain’s Quarters, which were much bigger and fancier than the little room I’d been locked in all day. The back wall was a giant window, looking out over the water, with a grand desk in front of it, in the middle of the room. There were bookcases with filled shelves, and on the left hand side was a massive bed, with curtains that hung down around it from the ceiling, covering the majority of the frame and its red blankets. The dinner had been set up on the desk, with chairs sat around it like a table. To my surprise, there were three chairs instead of just two.
“I thought I could serve ye tonight, sir,” Tristan spoke, answering the unasked question. “That way ye could spend yer time getting to know the lady.”
“A fine idea!” Captain Rodrigues laughed jollily at that, dragging me over and planting me in one of the chairs. “Wine, if you please, Mr. O’Rourke.”
“Of course, sir.” He grabbed the bottle and poured a healthy serving into the captain’s cup, followed by just enough of a taste for me. “Cook’s made some chicken for ye tonight. It’s the fresh one from the island today.”
“Excellent.” The captain ripped a wing off the bird on the platter in the middle of the table, shoving it into his mouth and removing
the bare bone with the most hellacious of manners, following the act up by downing his entire glass of wine in less than five seconds. Without asking, O’Rourke filled his glass again before turning to me.
“Would ye like some fruit?”
Glancing back at the captain, who nodded me on eagerly before taking another swig of his wine, I plastered on my best fake grin. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
“Enjoy it now, lassie,” the captain said through a mouthful of food. “It won’t last long out here. We’ve got a few animals on board, but they won’t be much. By the time we get to Spain, ye’ll be dying for fresh food.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I answered tightly, taking the grapes offered to me.
The night continued in the same manner, O’Rourke filling Captain Rodrigues’ wine goblet the second it emptied. The later it got, the more slurred his words became, until he wasn’t making any sense at all. Finally, in the middle of draining yet another glass, he slumped over, dead asleep in his plate.
“About time,” O’Rourke grumbled, finally sitting in his seat and pulling the chicken to him. “The old cod can drink three times his weight before even feelin’ tipsy. I thought we were going to run out of wine before he’d go out.”
Looking at the five empty bottles and my untouched glass, I swallowed hard. “You were trying to get him to sleep?”
“I told ye I’d protect ye, didn’t I?” he replied after swallowing what was in his mouth. “If it weren’t for that dolt, Thomas, he’d have never even remembered ye were here in the first place and we wouldn’t have had this problem.”
“Thomas?” Relief and confusion were flooding through me, as well as an increased burning in my face where I’d been cut. Raising a hand to the wound, I flinched, the tenderness warning me to be careful as I checked it.
“A rigger.” Staring at me, he said it like I was supposed to know what that meant, but I was still lost. “He did it just to see ye again, I’m sure. The whole of the crew was talking about the lass on the beach today. When they realized I wasn’t going to say anything to our captain here—” He poked the sleeping mound with his fork, earning a loud snort and shrug from Rodrigues. “Thomas took it on himself to remind him that there was a lady below deck.”
“How kind of him,” I replied dryly, watching him finish off the piece of chicken he’d taken.
“Here, let me look at yer face,” he said, suddenly changing the conversation and scooting his chair over by mine. His fingers brushed across the cut and my skin rippled with gooseflesh, my heart flipping strangely again. While he was engrossed with my cheek, I allowed myself to examine him once more, wondering how a man who could lock me in a room and purposefully hurt me at one minute be taking care of me the next. A strange desire to reach out and touch his face filled me, but I kept my hands to myself, holding still as he prodded around my wound. “Well, yer going to have a nice bruise,” he stated conversationally. “But the cut isn’t bad. It’ll heal over fine and ye won’t have a scar.” Fingers lingering on my face, he finally looked me in the eye. I didn’t know about him, but the air in the room suddenly felt electric. It was like I couldn’t breathe as he watched me, his gaze captivating my own.
Another loud snore from our companion interrupted the moment and he broke away, standing quickly and moving for the exit. “Come on. Ye look like ye could use some sleep. How is yer leg?” Opening the door, he waited for me to rise and exit the cabin as I assured him I felt much better after his care. Moving past me to open the entrance to his own quarters, he nodded. “Ye’ll be safe in here tonight. The crew will think yer with the captain. I’ll keep anyone who comes a lookin’ away.”
“Thank you.” The sincerity of the phrase surprised me and I turned to stare at him, smiling softly as his head bobbed, his hands closing the door and locking it once more.
Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One) Page 18
