One of the Naval lieutenants looked at his captain with concern. “Sir?”
Greyslake shook off the man’s hand, his stare never leaving Saxon’s face. “Give me twenty-five men, or you and everyone aboard will hang for treason!”
“You’ll not take one sailor off this ship.”
Scores of men from the Phoenix swept over the gunwales at a whistle from one of their officers. The two crews separated, the Navy troops in their striped shirts and white breeches facing the Valor’s rough-hewn sailors.
Greyslake raised one hand, ready to signal his men to take what they sought by force. “D’Avenant…” he said warningly.
They glared at one another.
Saxon clenched his jaw, knowing he had already made his decision and hating it. He couldn’t let this turn into open warfare between the two crews. He could not throw away his men’s lives for his own personal vengeance.
Greyslake might, but he couldn’t.
Damn it. “Palmer! Thorpe!”
The two men appeared at his side and saluted.
Saxon grated out the hardest order he had ever given. “Assist His Majesty’s Navy while they select twenty-five men.”
“Cap’n?”
“Do it.”
Greyslake’s look of triumph filled Saxon with disgust.
“My officers shall need no help, D’Avenant.” Greyslake ordered his lieutenants to go about the business of selecting the best from among the Valor’s crew. “They’ve a good eye for strong seafarers. Not that we’ll find any aboard this scow.”
Saxon didn’t reply to the cheap insult.
Greyslake seemed disappointed that he had been robbed of the legal chance to hang every man aboard. But then his smile slid back into place. “Have you mustered all your crew on deck?”
“Every man.”
“You wouldn’t be harboring any deserters from His Majesty’s service?”
“Of course not. That’s illegal.”
“Yes,” Greyslake said dryly. He stepped away to confer with two of his officers, then returned. “Just to make sure, my lieutenants and I will search the rest of your ship personally.”
Saxon bit back a protest. It would be useless. He could only hope that Wyatt, MacNeil, and the rest were well hidden by now. The party of Navy men went to the aft hatch that led below. Saxon followed. Greyslake turned and held up a hand.
“Your assistance is not required. I suggest you stay here and see that your men remain orderly. Anyone attempting to interfere with His Majesty’s officers will be shot for treason.” His dark eyes blazed eagerly. “Anyone.”
Greyslake turned and disappeared below. Saxon stood at the hatch, clenching and unclenching his fists, wanting to fasten them around Greyslake’s throat. No doubt the royally-protected thieves planned to help themselves to some of his cargo as well as twenty-five of his men.
Suddenly he realized that they might dare take something far more precious to him than men or cargo—when he heard a scream from the direction of his cabin.
Ashiana!
He ignored the shouts behind him. Ignored the risk of taking a bullet in the back. One jump carried him down the ladder and he ran through the companionway. Three of Greyslake’s men raced after him.
“Stop!” one of them yelled. “I order you to stop!”
Saxon didn’t stop until he had thrown open the door to his cabin.
Greyslake had Ashiana pinned against the wall, one hand wrapped in her black hair. Her eyes were wide with terror. He had taken off one glove to stroke her cheek with his bare hand…the hand that had been scarred and twisted by fire.
“Let her go!” Saxon drew his pistol. One of the officers tried to grab it. He sent the man sprawling with a well-placed kick. His shamshir was enough to hold the others back. “I said let her go.”
Grayslake ignored him, his full attention on Ashiana. “You lied, D’Avenant. You said you had assembled everyone on deck.”
“Every man is on deck. The lady is of no interest to you.”
“Oh, I must disagree. I certainly must. She’s on your ship. I could take her with me and let you argue your case before the Lord High Admiral back in London. When you get there. Months from now.” He ran his hand down over Ashiana’s slender throat, fingering the high collar of her gray gown. Trembling, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Saxon aimed the pistol at Greyslake’s head. “You know you don’t have to give me any more reasons to kill you.”
“You’re not that stupid.”
“Neither are you.”
“Give me the girl and you can keep your twenty-five men.”
“You have three seconds to let her go, Greyslake.” Saxon cocked the weapon.
“You haven’t considered my offer.”
“One.”
“Kill me and you’ll never leave this cabin alive.”
“Two.”
“I’ll hang every man aboard. I swear it.”
Saxon couldn’t hear anything but Ashiana’s terrified breathing. “Three.”
His finger tightened on the trigger. Greyslake released her, stepping away, but he kept looking her up and down. She remained flattened against the wall, glancing wildly from Saxon to the Navy men and back again. She clearly didn’t understand what was happening or a word of what had been said.
Greyslake turned toward Saxon. “You always were a fool when it came to women. They’re your one weakness.” His smile returned as he put his glove back on. He shook his head. “Your one weakness.”
“Stow it and get out.” Saxon moved to stand between him and Ashiana, keeping the pistol aimed at Greyslake’s head. “You won’t find any crewmen in here.”
“You’re an idiot to risk everything you have for a female.” Greyslake stared at Ashiana again. “Though I can see how a man might be willing to die for a few hours between her legs.”
Cursing, Saxon lunged and lashed out with his pistol. The side of it caught Greyslake right across the face. Before the Navy men could stop him, Saxon landed a solid kick that knocked Greyslake to the floor.
In the next second, the officers wrested the weapons from Saxon’s hands and grabbed him by the arms. Greyslake shook off his lieutenants as they tried to help him up. Staggering to his feet, he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of one hand, crimson staining his white glove. “You will pay for that,” he swore.
“Add it to my account,” Saxon fired back, trying to wrest free from the officers’ grip.
“Release him,” Greyslake ordered. “Get on with it. Find me every deserter he’s hiding on this blasted barge!”
The officers let Saxon go, taking his weapons with them as they left.
Greyslake followed them to the door, then turned, his dark gaze lingering over Ashiana. His features settled into that eerie mask again, his bloody lip making the expression all the more macabre. “You never learn, D’Avenant. I will exact tenfold whatever you may do to me.”
“It’s you who owe me, Greyslake. And I plan to collect,” Saxon promised coolly. “Soon.”
His enemy chuckled, his smile turning mysterious. “The girl would have been better off with me. You’ll understand that before long.” He strode out, leaving the door open behind him, calling back over his shoulder, “Do not interfere with us any further.”
Saxon glared at his retreating back, feeling only slightly better for having drawn blood. Then he heard a sob behind him and spun around—just as Ashiana’s knees gave way.
He caught her and pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?” he asked in urgent Hindi.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, simply letting him hold her, trembling in his embrace.
“Did he hurt you?” Saxon tilted her face up.
“Nahin, no.” She gasped for breath. “He…they burst in without any warning…and I…” She turned to look down at the bed. “Mr. Wyatt?”
To Saxon’s astonishment, Wyatt appeared from under the bed.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the first mate said. �
�Sorry I didn’t help when the trouble started.”
“I didn’t need any help,” Saxon demurred, still holding Ashiana. “Why the devil did you hide in here?”
“I didn’t intend to, sir. I came to fetch the lady. Thought I should hide her as well. Didn’t think you’d want Captain Greyslake to get ahold of her.”
Saxon nodded grimly. Wyatt knew of the enmity between him and Greyslake. The first mate had been with him for ten years—including the ill-fated voyage on which Greyslake and his family had been passengers. “Good thinking, Wyatt.”
“It is my fault that Mr. Wyatt was almost captured,” Ashiana said in Hindi. “He came to the door and I did not understand what he was saying. I wanted to go and ask you, but he was trying to get me to go below—and then we heard the men coming down the corridor.”
Wyatt let Ashiana finish her rapid Hindi before he continued. “I don’t know what she’s telling you, sir, but I have to say…” He looked at Ashiana, and there was a new respect in his eyes. “She protected me, sir. I ducked under the bed when I heard those Navy blighters coming this way. Instead of making a fuss or getting hysterical, she kept her head, she did. Seemed to understand I didn’t want to be found. She distracted them to keep them from looking for me.”
Saxon tightened his arms around Ashiana, looking at her with pride. He spoke in soft Hindi. “What made you take on all those armed Navy officers to protect Wyatt? He’s never exactly been pleasant toward you.”
“It was the honorable thing to do,” she said simply. “He seemed very afraid that those men would find him.”
Holding her, Saxon felt warm admiration—and something stronger that he didn’t have time to think about. “Wyatt.” He addressed his man in English. “It looks like they’ve gone down to the holds, but I suggest you get yourself back under the bed for now. I’ll send someone with word as soon as they’re gone.”
“Aye, sir.” Wyatt saluted. “And sir?”
Leading Ashiana to the door, Saxon stopped. “Yes?”
“Please tell the lady that I thank her for her bravery.”
Saxon translated the message to Ashiana.
She turned and smiled at the first mate. “You are welcome,” she said in English.
Wyatt shrugged, but beneath his gruff expression and his stubbly beard, he was blushing. He returned to his hiding place.
Saxon knew he’d better get back to his crew before anything else went wrong. He lingered at the door only a moment longer, tucked a strand of Ashiana’s hair behind her ear. “You’re sure Greyslake didn’t hurt you?”
She shook her head. “H-he only frightened me.”
“Ashiana, you have to tell me—was he the one, back in Daman? The man who forced you to steal the leather pouch I was wearing?”
“The one who…Oh! Oh, no, I do not think…no, he was not the one,” she finished. “The man was shorter. And heavier. I have never seen this man before.”
Saxon pulled her closer. “And you’ll never see him again,” he said firmly.
She tilted her head up. “How did—”
He kissed her before she could finish the question. Kissed her deeply, possessively. Forgot about vengeance and danger and anything but the need to be with her for even a brief moment, to know that she was still here, still his.
When he lifted his head, he could see in her eyes that she felt the same way.
He wasn’t sure how he managed to let her go. “I don’t think they’ll come back here, but Wyatt will stay with you until they’ve left the ship.”
Ashiana closed the door behind Saxon and rested her forehead against it, shaken by all that had taken place in the span of minutes—the appearance of the strange Englishmen, Saxon protecting her, and that fierce kiss that left her breathless. It had felt almost as powerful and as intimate as the joining of their bodies earlier today.
Cheeks hot, she wrapped her trembling arms around herself, turning to lean back against the door. Everything had shifted between her and Saxon. Like dark storm clouds giving way before the wind, all their mutual distrust and hostility and wariness had been replaced by…
By emotions she could no longer deny. She knew she was not supposed to feel this way about the enemy. But even the word “enemy” no longer seemed to apply to her golden-haired, silver-eyed English smuggler.
She had fallen in love with him.
She shut her eyes. By all the gods, how was she going to find the strength to do what she must when they reached the Andaman Islands?
She could not stay with him. She had to leave his ship. Leave him. Take Nicobar and the jewels and escape. He trusted her completely now. With the cabin door unlocked, it would be easy to get away.
Hot tears burned behind her tightly closed eyes, and Ashiana knew they did not come from worry about completing her mission.
They came from the thought of never seeing Saxon again.
Lanterns illuminated the darkness of the cargo hold. The Phoenix had departed an hour ago, but Saxon would not rest until he had personally checked every inch of his ship to make sure Greyslake and his crew hadn’t added sabotage to press-ganging and thievery today.
Wyatt kept repeating the number with disbelief. “Sixty-five, sir. How is the Valor going to get on with only sixty-five hands?”
“We’ll all put in double hours, double work. Every man will have to do more than his share.”
“Navy blighters.” Wyatt swore. “Even took our ship’s doctor.”
“And the cook,” MacNeil added morosely from beside the first mate. “And Cap’n, what if we get caught in one of the summer monsoons?”
Saxon exhaled slowly. The picture would be grim if a storm caught them when they were this short-handed. He thought again of Greyslake’s mysterious comment: The girl would be better off with me…
He shook off the uneasy feeling. Greyslake couldn’t control the weather, for God’s sake.
Working in silence, the three of them made a thorough inspection of the holds. It looked as if some small items of cargo were missing, but they had expected that. They examined the hull at and below the waterline. They checked the shored-up keelson. They found no sign that anything vital had been tampered with.
“It all looks good, sir,” Wyatt said with relief.
“Yes,” Saxon agreed, though he still felt uneasy about Greyslake’s strange comment concerning Ashiana. Probably just one more barb meant to irritate him. He’d be better off putting it out of his mind, now that he had gone over the Valor from stem to stern.
Besides, he could think of a far more pleasant way to spend the rest of his evening.
“The two of you had better get yourselves to the officers’ mess for supper—whatever it might be tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” Wyatt saluted and started back toward the hatch.
MacNeil lingered behind. “Sir…” he began tentatively.
“What is it, MacNeil?” Saxon said impatiently. “Out with it.”
“There is that matter I spoke to you about earlier today—the beastie?”
Saxon sighed in frustration. He obviously wasn’t going to hear the end of the tiger’s trivial problems until he checked on it himself. “Yes, of course. Let’s have a look at him, then. You said you saw something?”
MacNeil led the way back through the cargo hold, toward Nicobar’s private bay. “A blue flash, sir, in his straw. Wondrous strange it was. A bright sapphire blue.”
Saxon had so much on his mind, it took a second for the significance of that particular color to sink in.
“Sapphire blue?”
“Aye, sir.” MacNeil cautiously opened Nicobar’s pen, sliding the hatch aside.
Holding his lantern aloft, Saxon knelt down and stared inside. He saw exactly what MacNeil had described—an unmistakable flash of light. Bright sapphire-blue light. Coming from the animal’s bedding.
His heart began to pound against his ribs.
Nicobar was in a far corner of the enclosure, rubbing his
neck against a broken nail that jutted out of the wall. Saxon moved inside. The animal growled.
“Sir…” MacNeil warned.
“The tiger’s not that dangerous, MacNeil. Ashiana wrestled with it, for pity’s sake.” Saxon reached out to touch whatever it was in the straw. He picked it up.
Even as he held it in his hand, his mind could not accept what it was.
Then in the span of a single heartbeat, the truth tore through him—and betrayal and fury with it. Blinding, soul-deep fury.
His missing sapphire!
She had had it all along!
She had stolen the jewel and hidden it from him. She had been lying to him from the beginning.
Nicobar snarled. Saxon tore his gaze from the Sapphire of Kashmir sparkling in his palm and glanced up. The tiger kept shaking its head uncomfortably. It looked as if the animal had been trying to get its collar off by rubbing against the nail. The jagged bit of iron had slashed the leather.
Saxon hung his lantern on a peg, awash in disbelief. Because shining through the cuts, unmistakable in the light, he could see similar flashes of sapphire blue.
Heedless of claws and fangs, he crept forward and grabbed Nicobar.
“Sir?” MacNeil queried with concern.
Saxon barely even heard him. He wrestled with the tiger and held it down by brute strength. There were more sapphires stuffed inside the collar!
When he touched the jeweled leather, a sudden burst of strange energy, like heat and light from the sun itself, seemed to radiate out of the stones. It ran up his arm, through his chest, and down into his other hand, where he still gripped the other sapphire in his fist. His body jerked with the force of it.
“Jesus!” he shouted, stunned by the unnatural sensation, dazed by the knowledge of what he was holding in his hands. “Sweet holy Christ!”
“Sir?” MacNeil asked. “I don’t think ’tis a good idea—”
An explosion ripped through the hold.
The deafening roar from below shattered the evening’s silence and jolted the ship. Ashiana tumbled from her yoga position, falling headlong across the cabin. Her left shoulder struck the corner of the bookshelf, hard, and she cried out in pain.
One Night with a Scoundrel Page 19
