He was beginning to think that she might just be telling him the truth—that she’d handed over his leather pouch to someone outside the preet chatra before running for her life.
Setting the basket and clothing aside, Saxon reached for the crate.
“Cap’n, take care, sir! ’Tis some sort of demon beastie!”
“MacNeil,” Saxon said patiently, untying the leather strap, “I’m sure there’s nothing more dangerous in here than books and—”
The lid burst open. A snarling blur of orange and white exploded past him and what felt like a half-dozen knife blades slashed his right arm. Saxon fell onto his back with a vicious curse.
MacNeil ran to his side. “God’s mercy, sir, what is that?”
“It’s a tiger!” Saxon bellowed, holding his bleeding arm. The growling animal—a small one, perhaps only half-grown—ran as far as it could, then turned and gave them a flat-eared, fang-baring hiss that made MacNeil go pale.
“Get me a pistol.” Saxon shoved himself to his feet, trying to ignore the fiery pain in his forearm. The tiger leaped onto a stack of crates, bounding over the top and down the other side. They could hear it snarling and hissing. “And get Wyatt and tell him to bring the girl down here!”
MacNeil ran to carry out his orders, skirting the crates by a wide berth as he made his way through the hold. Saxon was left to keep an eye—or rather, an ear—on the dangerous little creature. It kept prowling back and forth on the far side of the boxes, alternating between a coughing, spitting sound and a fierce growl.
Saxon tore off what was left of his sleeve and did his best to bind up the deep slashes on his arm. Why the hell hadn’t Ashiana warned him she had a bloody tiger among her things? It might have killed one of his crew.
Minutes later, he heard voices on the far side of the hold, as his men came down the ladder and quickly made their way aft. MacNeil was first, armed to the teeth with pistols, swords, and knives. Then Wyatt stepped into the light, holding firmly to Ashiana’s arm.
Saxon met them in the middle of the chamber, greeting her with an accusing glare. “Would you like to explain what in blazes that animal is doing on my ship?”
Her wide-eyed gaze went from his bloodied arm to the stack of boxes on the other side of the hold—from where a thoroughly displeased roar reverberated through the small chamber.
“Nico?” She covered her mouth with one hand, looking shocked. “Oh, no!”
“You mean to tell me you didn’t know about this?”
“I swear it! I cannot—it must have been when Lorjulian asked someone to send my things to the ship. The servants must have sent everything that was in my room!”
MacNeil handed Saxon one of the pistols he had brought down and tried to hand him a sword as well, but Saxon waved it away.
Ashiana froze, her eyes on the weapons. “Krupiya, please, you must not!” She started fighting Wyatt’s hold on her. “He will not hurt anyone!”
“He will not hurt anyone?” Saxon echoed in disbelief, lifting his arm in case she had missed how badly he was bleeding. Another ferocious snarl rose from behind the piles of cargo. He loaded the pistol. “What is a dancing girl doing with a tiger in the first place?”
“He is a pet. He was a gift from…from the emperor, earlier this year. B-before I fell from favor.”
Saxon cocked the pistol and warily moved forward.
Wyatt had to hold her by both arms to keep her from throwing herself into the path of the bullet. “Nahin, please! Oh, don’t! He is only a cub!”
“Lass, that ‘cub’ near took the cap’n’s arm off,” MacNeil informed her in thickly accented Hindi.
“Krupiya, it is not his fault! He is only hungry. I tell you he is tame. I have trained him myself. If we feed him—”
“I am not going to take food from my crew and give it to an animal.” Saxon didn’t take his attention from his hunt.
“Take food from me, then! Give him the meat I will not be eating.” She was crying now. “He is so small. And it is only a few weeks to the islands. You can put him off the ship with me.”
“If I had any sense, I would toss you both overboard right now!”
She sank to her knees at Wyatt’s feet. “Please, I will do anything.”
Saxon turned to gaze down at her, clenching his jaw. His dancing girl should be careful about making such an offer. He could give her a number of suggestions for what anything might include.
But he realized that the moment he had been waiting for had just presented itself. Now was the time to ask, while she was emotional and unprepared. “Try telling me what I want to know,” he said quietly.
He didn’t have to be any more specific than that. She clearly knew what he was talking about. “I have already told you everything. I swear upon my life, I swear by all the gods, that what I told you before was the truth. Every word of it. If you cannot believe me…” Her shoulders slumped and she hung her head. “I beg you, do not kill Nicobar to punish me for stealing from you.” She sobbed so hard, she couldn’t continue.
Saxon exhaled slowly. The defeat and resignation in her voice were utterly convincing. She was either telling the truth, or she was the most incredibly gifted liar he had ever met.
Her tears, her vulnerability brought a surge of protectiveness from a deep place inside him. Punishing her was the last thing on his mind. He didn’t want her to be hurt, not in any way.
God help him, he wanted to believe her.
“Hellfire and damnation, shooting the beast is the only sensible choice! I can’t have that thing roaming my ship for five weeks.”
“Please don’t,” she begged softly. “Please don’t kill him.”
As Saxon looked at her, kneeling there, crying her heart out for the sake of her tiger, the sensible thing suddenly seemed so distasteful, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hunt down her pet and shoot it.
He lowered the pistol. “How do you propose to get it out of my cargo hold?” he asked tightly. “I’m not going to let it destroy all the valuable goods in here.”
His men looked at him in surprise.
Ashiana glanced up with an expression of astonishment. “Dhanyavad. Thank you, my lord. Thank you!”
Wyatt blinked in disbelief a couple of times before he recovered enough to offer a suggestion. “We could try putting it in the brig, sir.”
“The animal’s too small.” Saxon jammed the pistol into his belt. “It might slip through the bars.”
MacNeil nodded at the starboard side of the ship. “Some of the forward private bays are still empty, Cap’n.”
“Fine. Put it in one of those, then.”
As Wyatt helped Ashiana to her feet, she smiled, her face aglow with relief. “Not ‘it.’ He’s a ‘him,’” she corrected softly. “His name is Nicobar. Show me where to take him. He will come to me.”
The three men stepped back to let her lure the tiger from its hiding place. She strode confidently toward the stack of crates, utterly fearless.
Saxon felt his stomach clench and kept his hand poised over the loaded gun, ignoring the fiery pain in his arm. The animal might be ‘tame,’ but it was also hungry and frightened. If it looked like the little beast was going to so much as lay a claw on her—
The forceful thought took him by surprise. Ashiana had become more important to him than he’d realized, and he wasn’t even sure how it had happened.
He had to choke back an exclamation when she bent down to peek between a pair of boxes.
“Nico,” she said soothingly, coaxingly. “Nicooo…”
The sound of her voice crooning in that low, hypnotic tone did strange things to Saxon’s nerve endings.
Then she started a series of purring, feline sounds in the back of her throat, and his entire body went taut. His mind suddenly flooded with images of her naked beneath him, her body warm and languid, her arms wrapping around his neck while she sighed those pleasurable little sounds into his ear.
Blinking, he forced himself back to reality, unn
erved by the vivid fantasy.
The tiger had stopped growling and hissing. A second later there was the click of claws striking wood and it jumped lightly to the top of the stack—directly above her. From that position, the animal could take out her throat with one quick slash. A deep rumble came from its chest, somewhere between a growl and a purr.
“Careful,” Saxon warned, stepping forward, his hand on the pistol.
“Shhh,” she whispered, whether to him or her pet he couldn’t tell. She raised one hand and let the tiger sniff the backs of her fingers, speaking to him all the while in soft Hindi. “I am here, Nicobar, it is all right. Nothing will hurt you. I promise, my premi.”
Saxon frowned, wondering why the tiger merited such tender attention and gentle nothings from her lips. He was the one bleeding, after all. She had never used such a tone with him.
A second later there was a mutual intake of breath from all three men in the hold when the tiger leaped down…
…and landed gently at her feet.
They all exhaled while she scratched the top of Nicobar’s head. The animal batted her with one paw, and she knelt and started to wrestle with him, tussling playfully. “Hello, my Nico.” She smiled, laughing. “Yes, I am glad to see you, too!”
Saxon glanced at his men, who were watching the unfolding scene with expressions that matched his own amazement.
Ashiana patted the tiger’s belly, rubbed between his shoulder blades until he purred, then carefully took him by the collar. “Nico will not cause any more trouble now,” she said matter-of-factly.
Watching her ease with the dangerous creature, it took Saxon a moment to find his voice. “Wyatt, MacNeil, let’s open up one of those private bays.”
The two men snapped into action, leading the way forward into the bow section of the hold, where they moved a pile of particularly heavy cargo on the starboard side. Behind it was one of the secret storage compartments that Saxon used to hide smuggled goods from the prying eyes of customs officials.
“Bring him over here,” he called to Ashiana.
When there was no reply, he turned toward her.
She stared at him, then at the compartment, then back at him again. Her expression had changed to one of horror, as if he had just sprouted horns and a tail. “You are a pirate!”
“A smuggler,” he corrected.
Holding the tiger with one hand, she pointed at the secret cargo bay. “Only a pirate would have something such as this on his ship!”
Saxon exhaled between clenched teeth. “I’m not of a mind to explain the difference to you at the moment. I’ve more important things to attend to.” His arm hurt like hell, and the makeshift bandage was already soaked with blood. “Wyatt.”
“Sir?”
“Since no one else can get near that animal, she’ll have to take care of it—but you will accompany her from my cabin and back again.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Once a day.” Saxon pivoted on his heel, headed for sickbay. “And no side trips in between.”
He left her in the company of her precious tiger, feeling her glare burning into his back.
Pirate. The word seared itself into Ashiana’s heart as she stared at Saxon’s retreating back. Her mind was spinning, lost in a rush of memories of her last day aboard the Adiante.
Her eyes stinging with tears and smoke. The acrid smell of cannon shot smothering her. The English pirates’ laughter and the crack of the lash crowding out all other sound. Her father’s screams…
Breathing hard, Ashiana blinked to clear her vision, unable to tell for a dizzying moment whether the tears in her eyes were remembered or real. She inhaled a steadying breath, tasting not smoke but the dry mustiness of the Valor’s cargo hold.
Pirate. The word had always filled her with hatred—but for the first time, other emotions mingled with it as well: hurt and betrayal.
Why did it hurt so much to discover that Saxon was a pirate?
Looking down, she rubbed at the tattoo of the rose that peeked out from the sleeve of her gray Angrez gown. Like her memories, the scar from an English pirate’s whip could not be soothed away.
The tall young officer said something to her.
Ashiana raised her head to look at him, trying to control the emotions that had overwhelmed her. He stood at one side of the empty cargo bay—the secret compartment that had been concealed behind a hidden hatch.
She shook her head, not understanding a word of the strange-sounding English the man spoke. He repeated himself in stilted, thickly accented Hindi. “The tiger? Shall we put him inside, miss?”
She looked down at Nicobar, who sat still and docile at her feet. The other officer, Wyatt, had already covered the floor of the secret compartment with packing straw. They were waiting impatiently for her to coax her pet inside. Nico bared his teeth and spat when Wyatt reached toward him.
Turning to his companion, who still held an array of weapons, Wyatt said something in English. Giving Ashiana a disapproving look, he stalked away, leaving the two of them to wrestle with the problem of getting Nico into his new home.
“He is going to get something for your pet to eat,” the other man explained in his odd, lilting accent.
“Dhanyavad.” Ashiana nodded. “Thank you.”
“My name is MacNeil.” The young officer put the weapons aside, except for a knife that he tucked into his belt. He gave her an embarrassed smile. “I know you say he is tame, miss, but he looks like he might not mind munching on a Scot until his meal arrives.”
“A Scot?” Ashiana repeated the odd word that he had said in English.
“A person from Scotland, miss, like myself.” He doffed his three-cornered hat and bowed slightly. “It is a land to the north of England, a wee bit colder and wilder, but we like it that way.”
He grinned as he said it, and Ashiana returned his smile. She found herself liking this MacNeil.
Her smile faded as she realized that he must be a pirate as well.
MacNeil had already turned his attention to Nico, who had flopped on the floor at Ashiana’s feet as she absently scratched the white fur of his stomach with her bare toes. “The tiger, miss? Might we put him inside?”
Realizing the man was still a bit afraid of her pet, Ashiana coaxed Nico to his feet and led him forward. He balked at the opening to the small enclosure, until Ashiana crawled in ahead of him and sat down on the straw. The compartment was just tall enough for her to sit upright, but it was quite wide and long. Nico followed her in and began exploring his new surroundings.
“You have a wonderful way with him, miss.” MacNeil crouched beside the open hatch, still looking a little uneasy as Nico dashed from one side of his enclosure to the other. “It’s generous of the captain to let you keep him.”
Ashiana wrinkled her nose. “Indeed, one would not expect generosity from a—” She cut herself off and looked away.
“A pirate?” MacNeil finished for her. He laughed, sitting down just outside the compartment. “I’m afraid you have it wrong, miss. The Valor sails under the Company ensign, not the Jolly Roger.”
Ashiana gave him a perplexed frown, not understanding what he meant. “You are very loyal to defend your captain.”
His grin faded. “Here now, miss. I won’t have you thinking ill of the captain. He’s no pirate.”
Ashiana kept her attention on Nicobar, trying to persuade him to calm down and stop running around and scattering his straw.
MacNeil was insistent. “The captain might be a bit…well, a bit sharp round the edges at times, but he’s an honest sort. And I should know. I keep his accounts.”
Ashiana could not listen to any more. “If he is honest, why would he have something such as this built into his ship?” She raised both hands to indicate the compartment she was sitting in.
“The private bays are for smuggling, not piracy. The Valor pays for every bit of cargo she takes aboard. The captain insists on that.”
Ashiana shook her head. “I do not unde
rstand. There is a difference between pirates and smugglers?”
MacNeil looked surprised and affronted. “Pirates steal. And they murder and pillage. Smugglers just…well, they just prefer not to let customs officials see every bit of what they’ve got. Customs officials,” he explained before she could ask, “are the men back in England—government men—who decide what goods English ships may and may not trade. Some captains don’t like rules.” He grinned again. “And they don’t like paying a tax on every tea leaf and china plate they take aboard. So they carry on a bit of smuggling on the side.”
Ashiana lifted an eyebrow. “So a smuggler is not a pirate, but he is a man who does not deal honestly.”
“No, no, that’s not it at all.” MacNeil’s face flushed. “The D’Avenant ships are the most successful in the Company. They make thousands of pounds every year, every shilling of it honest. But the captain, he receives but a wee bit of that. The Company pays him a wage and takes the biggest share of the Valor’s profits. The rest goes to the captain’s older brother, the Duke of Silverton. The Duke’s the one who owns all the family ships.”
Nicobar at last tired of his rambles and came to lie beside Ashiana, flicking the tip of his tail as he began washing himself. Ashiana ran a hand through his striped fur, still unable to make sense of the jumble of information or the emotions she felt. “I do not understand how that makes smuggling an honest endeavor.”
“It…well…” The young man sighed in exasperation. “I don’t suppose that it does. Still, it—don’t you see? The money earned by the Valor is Company money and family money. The captain wouldn’t think of skimming any of it for himself, even though he’s the one who earns it. But he’s a younger son, like me. Like a lot of us on the Company ships. And he has to look to his own future. The cargo he stows here—” He indicated the little room that was now Nico’s home. “—and in the other private bays, that’s his. He’ll be a wealthy man in a few more years…”
Ashiana rested her hand on Nico’s furry head, her thoughts drifting elsewhere as the young officer began talking about the unfairness of the English system of inheritance. She realized that she had jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion. Saxon was not a pirate.
One Night with a Scoundrel Page 13
