"Do you not realize that I hold your life in my hands? I am the captain of this ship and everyone aboard her answers to me! I’ve killed men for less antagonism than you have given me with your mouth these last few days!" He bellowed.
The woman had more guts than a hundred corsairs. She just stood and glared at him.
"Stop yelling at me!" she glowered.
He stepped a little closer to her. His voice continued, emphasizing each word. "Shall I show you once again how I can get you to do as I ask? Was not your first lesson well learned?" He smiled mockingly at her astonished face.
The girl’s eyes flashed sparks. "You wouldn’t dare!" she spat. But she backed away widening the space between them.
"Oh, wouldn’t I?" he asked quietly, his voice taking on a threatening tone. "You don’t know me well enough to say what I would dare, my love. But you will… Ah, yes, my tempting little wench, you will find I am most daring indeed."
Danielle saw his eyes fill with lust as he spoke, and lowered hers to look down. Her vision encountered a broad expanse of brown chest before moving to his obvious swollen manhood showing at the juncture of his thighs. She forced her gaze to look completely away from him, her pulses leaping. Never before had she been so affected by the sight of a man. The smell of salt sea, mingled with his own male odor, was still fresh on her nostrils from their embrace moments ago. It clung to her, caressing her senses. Had he no modesty? He stood there stark naked before her like a Greek God.
"Danielle," she murmured. "Danielle Rochette." She closed her eyes, exhausted both mentally and physically.
"Danielle," he liked the feel of it on his tongue. It matched her somehow. He reached out and ran his fingers down the side of her cheek. Her skin was silky to his touch. How could he have been so stupid, to think she had been a lad, when everything about her was so extremely feminine? And the fact that she was a female and he had made her do the work of two men. What a monster she must think him. He saw the exhaustion in the slump of her shoulders and sympathy filled him for the first time in his life over a woman.
"I have work to do. You may rest while I’m away. But I forbid you to come on deck. Especially now when you look so fetching. I do not want my men to mutiny and I would hate to kill one of them over you."
"What no chamber pots to empty? No deck to scrub? No menial task for someone so unworthy?" She knew she should shut her mouth before he struck her as he looked very close to doing at the present time. Her dark eyes raised to stare at him as defiantly as she dared. It was a bold front.
"I think not!" The little witch was pushing him to the limit. He had never struck a woman before but the image of his hand coming down on her rounded bottom had its merits.
Danielle realized her strength was gone. She was too tired. The fight had left her. She stood waiting for his next onslaught but none came.
"Damn!" he cursed loudly, making her jump. Her body slumped in defeat. She clenched her eyes closed like she had been struck. He wanted to go to her and wrap her in his arms once more. But she had to soon learn that his was the will she must obey. On this ship he was judge and executioner all rolled into one. He fought the urge to give her some sort of comfort. He knew if he were to feel her against him again, all would be lost.
He went and picked up his breeches, balancing on one leg, then the other until his nudity was covered. He opened the closet for a fresh shirt and walked across the floor, pulling it over his head. He sat on the edge of the bed to step into his knee high boots. His movements were swift as his anger centered on himself. He dare not look at her again as he stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door.
Danielle released her breath. She made her way to the bed and sat down on the edge. The strength had left her legs and she could no longer stand. Her body had never before felt the multitude of emotions flowing over her. The captain had been passionate, then gentle, then angry. She lay back on the pillow to gather her thoughts. Her eyes closed as she relived the arms holding her in a tight embrace and kisses that would have melted the snows of the highest mountain. She must make plans to escape, for she knew her body would never forbid the man of her thoughts anything. He could have had her just a few moments ago had he so wished. She must find a way to stay out of his grasp. Her body relaxed against the pillow and sleep overcame her troubled thoughts.
~ * ~
"Ricardo!" Scott roared. "Step lively!"
Ricardo, who had been standing nearby, hurried to his side. "You require me, Captain?"
"Now who the hell else is named Ricardo aboard this ship?" he roared.
What could have happened to put his friend in such a foul temper? He knew better than to question the man in this mood, so stood waiting for the Captain to speak.
Scott knew he was being a boar and tried to soften his voice a might. "Come, I need a private word." He marched over to the side of the ship, his hands gripping the taffrail as he stared out over the open sea. Ricardo followed in his wake to stand beside him. Scott’s brows closed together.
"The lad is a wench!" Scott ground out quietly.
"What?" Ricardo screeched.
"‘Tis true. I uncovered her little secret just moments ago. And as God is my witness there has never been such a woman as this!"
There had been something about the young lad that had been bothering Ricardo and now the truth was out. He felt much relieved in thinking her a woman rather than the pretty boy he had first thought. Ricardo stared at the man beside him and knew his captain was every inch a man, and it was as clear as a spring day what was bothering him now. It explained his mood in no uncertain terms. He was in heat. So what was the problem, women had never denied him previously. The first mate looked around at the seamen to be sure they were not being overheard. "Damn, Scott! You know a woman on board is bad luck. What will happen when the men find out?"
"We must see that they don’t! No one will enter my cabin except for you and I and I have forbidden her to come on deck." Scott turned his head to look into the eyes of the Spaniard.
"How long will that last, Captain. Perhaps we should make for the shores of England after all," Ricardo said with all sincerity.
"I will not let her go, Ricardo. Not yet anyway. Don’t ask it." His words were an order not to be broached.
Ricardo shrugged. Let it be on the Captain’s head. He would have enough to keep him busy making sure the seamen didn’t suspect anything.
Danielle woke a few hours later, rested and more in command of herself. She rose and moved about the room now that she was alone, to check out her quarters more thoroughly. The cold bath water caught her eyes as she remembered the captain sitting there earlier, in all his manliness. It was suddenly too hot in the cabin. She fanned her face with her hand as she forced her eyes to look at other things. A picture on the shelf of a woman with eyes the mirror of the man who held her captive caught her attention. There was no mistaking the resemblance. She sat it back on its ledge and looked at the titles of the books on the shelf below it. It seemed the captain had a wide range of knowledge in many things as bespoke the fine leather bound books within his reach. She found her fingers trailing over the maps and paperwork covering the top of the desk.
Ricardo tapped on the outside of the door and, opening it, stepped into the room, carrying a tray laden with food.
Danielle, hearing the door open, reacted instantly, throwing one of the captain’s books at the head of the intruder.
Ricardo ducked, feeling the air whiz by as the flying object came within an inch of his temple. Eyes wide with astonishment, he faced his attacker. "For such a little one, your aim is deadly." The dark-haired Spaniard grinned disarmingly. "The captain thought you might like a little something to eat… but… " he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the door.
"Wait!" she called, raising her hand to stop his exit. "I’m sorry, Ricardo. I didn’t know it was you. Please leave the tray. I promise not to throw anything else." She smiled mischievously. "I thought it was that blackguard captain of yo
urs."
Ricardo came forward to place the tray on the table. "He’s not as black as some would paint him, señorita." He saw what the captain meant. The woman before him, though still dressed in the wrinkled breeches and shirt of a boy, was indeed magnificent. It was the hair he decided. It looked as soft as silk falling down her back. No wonder the captain was in such a mood. He smiled to himself.
"How can you defend him, Ricardo? In my country, he is known throughout the land as a ruthless murderer!"
"There are many things you do not understand about the captain. And one of them is his need for revenge, caused by one of your own countrymen. But to me he is a dear and close friend."
He looked down at the appetizing food. "You should eat this while it’s hot. Cook does make a tasty soup."
It had been quite a few hours since she had eaten, and the smell of the food was too much to be denied. Succumbing to her pangs of hunger, she came to the wooden table and sat down in the chair Ricardo held out for her and began to eat.
The meal was still warm and seasoned to perfection. The cook aboard The Scarlet Eagle was definitely not a common deck hand. Danielle ate, not realizing the ravenous way in which she pursued the food before her.
She spoke between mouthfuls of the savory soup. "I’m sorry I mistook you for the captain. It’s a good thing your reflexes are so quick," she smiled, "or you might be wearing a bump over your right eye."
"It would not be the first one I have so worn, little one. A sailor learns to move quickly, if he is to survive on the waterfronts," he spoke good-naturedly. "In fact that is how I met the captain. I had just landed in port and was a stranger to London. My first night in town I was set upon by a band of ruffians and they welcomed me as the usual waterfront thugs would do, when young Scott came to my rescue."
Danielle listened as he related the entire episode. She could see why he would be so faithful to the captain but it did not excuse the vengefulness Scott Dominion reaped upon the French.
Ricardo picked up the now empty tray and started for the door. "Is there anything else I may bring you?" he asked, noticing the dark smudges on her face and hands. "Perhaps a hot bath would not come amiss right now. I’m sorry all we can offer you is heated sea water, but it still refreshes."
"Oh, Ricardo, I would love it!" she burst out. And perhaps some clean clothes…?" She looked down at the visible protruding breasts with her sitting so straight in the chair, "that are a little larger, if possible."
Ricardo threw back his head and laughed. "I’m sure I can come up with something more comfortable."
After Ricardo dumped Scott’s cold water and while replenishing it with fresh, Danielle found herself telling how she came to be inside the hogshead on the French merchantman. Ricardo’s friendly manner made it easy to confide in him.
"I’m sorry about your parents, señorita," he nodded in understanding. "Scott’s mother, too, was born to a family of means. But at the time I first met her, she was trying to maintain a hand to mouth existence by cleaning the houses of the local gentry and any other menial task she managed to find. She would leave the shack before dawn and would return, dragging her feet long after dark.
"I was with them for over a month healing from my wounds and by the time I was well enough to leave, Scott and his mother had persuaded me to stay."
Danielle watched the man next to her as he talked. His expression held a look of compassion as he spoke of Scott’s mother and something else… love shone through his eyes as well.
Ricardo sighed deeply as he poured the last bucket into the tub. "Ah well, those are days long over and best forgotten. The captain sees that his mother will never have to toil like that again. If only Scott would let those memories remain in the past. Enough reminiscing. You’d better take you bath before the water starts to cool, señorita," he changed the subject abruptly.
"Please, call me Danielle. I hope we will be friends. I could use one about now," she gave him a grateful smile.
"Danielle it is, only if you will call me Ricardo," he stated. "And I would be happy to be your friend as long as you understand little one, I would never do anything against my captain’s orders."
"Very well, Ricardo, and thank you for your kindness."
After Ricardo had retired from the cabin, Danielle locked the door. She reached in the waistband of her breeches for the parcel still concealed there. She glanced around the room for a good hiding place. She glanced once again at the picture of Scott’s mother. She went and looked at the back of the frame. Her small package could rest safely in the back hidden from prying eyes. She placed it against the frame and stood it up again on the shelf. It was completely out of sight. She stripped off her clothes and dropped them to the floor. She couldn’t get into the brass tub filled with steaming water fast enough. Danielle sighed. It was heavenly to soak her tired, cramped bones, submerging to her neck in the tub. What had happened in the captain’s past to cause his hatred? Did it stem from the hard life his mother had been forced to lead? The enigma of Captain Scott Dominion filled her thoughts. The water trickling through her fingers finally cleansed her mind of unanswered questions.
Four
Never before had Danielle realized how good it felt to bathe. Her scalp was still a little tender but she couldn’t resist the urge to suds her hair lightly with the bar of soap she found in the basin. It was so refreshing she hated to leave the tub. After her ablutions, she lay back resting her neck on the smooth rim.
Though she had been here awhile she had not really noticed such a difference between Scott’s cabin and that of Captain Le Hommes. The cabin of the other sailing ship had contained only the barest necessities. This one, for a small room, was furnished lavishly. The trophies of battle no doubt, but still, she looked about the room smiling, one had to admire the man’s taste.
The dark teak of the armoire and chest, richly carved with scenes of the hunt and the drawers of the heavy desk were inlaid with ebony and gold leaf. Though exquisitely appointed, the room had a definite masculinity about it.
The rough-hewn timbers of the beams above her head complimented the wooden furnishings. She found herself relaxing in the tub, listening to the rhythmic groans of the ship.
As the water cooled, she forced herself to step out and dry off with a large, coarse textured towel. She was dressed in clean clothes and rubbing her hair vigorously when the door commenced to rattle as someone tried to enter. Danielle scrambled to unlatch the door. As it opened the captain shoved past her to enter the room. He turned and slammed the door so as not to inform the entire ship as to the sex of his ‘cabin boy’.
"Don’t ever lock that door again!" Scott, his feet apart, hands on hips, glared at her from a few feet away. Finally the sight before him burned itself into his befuddled brain. He noticed the wet hair hanging in loose tangled waves around her slim shoulders. The clean white shirt and black pantaloons were different than the ones she had worn earlier and not quite so snug around her feminine frame, much to his disappointment. Then his eyes noticed the tub of cool water and the towel draped over its side.
"Well, why didn’t you tell me you were going to take a bath for Christ’s sake?" Scott demanded.
Danielle stood defiant, her temperature rising to the boiling stage, her hands clenched tightly at her sides and glared back.
"Why you… you ranting sea wolf! You didn’t leave me time to say anything at all! It was lucky I had dressed before you came barreling through that door like some enraged imbecile!" she screeched, uncaring of the consequences.
He couldn’t help staring at the thick mass of hair hanging over her shoulders. It was way too distracting. He marched over to a shelf below a mirror hanging on the wall and picked up the brush.
"Here, do something with that hair!"
"What’s the matter with my hair?" she grabbed the brush out of his hand.
"It’s a mess!" he growled.
"Maybe I like it this way!" She knew she looked a little disheveled but the man didn’t have
to be so rude.
This fiery vixen made his temper want to explode in exasperation. His nerves were raw. This beautiful woman, a good foot shorter than him, had absolutely no fear. Was she trying to make him strike her? He would never do such a thing. Scott took a deep breath, forcing his hands to unclench at his sides. Gradually he breathed in and out until his heartbeat slowed. He would fight with her no more this day.
"Next time you must tell me you are going to bathe, Danielle," he somewhat apologized. "But never lock me from this room, or I’ll break down the door." He could see the temper she was trying to keep under control by the stubborn set of her chin below flashing eyes, as black and cold as onyx.
Danielle slowly took a deep breath and her fury cooled as she realized, for the man before her, the half apology had taken great will on his part. He would not be one to apologize easily and in doing so Danielle instantly forgot her anger. She moved over to her window seat and sat down.
Scott noticed immediately the change in her demeanor and relaxed. He didn’t want to fight with her. He wanted to make love to her. To feel her next to him as he had earlier in the day surrounded by his arms.
Danielle slowly began the chore of removing the tangles from her hair.
Scott went to his desk and watched the proceedings. He had never realized what joy could be felt by watching a beautiful woman at her toilette. As she finished detangling one long strand she would flip it to the front letting it fall across her breast as she reached behind her head and grabbed another part of her tangled disarray to smooth it to perfection and bring it forward. He envied the smooth hair its place upon her person and let his mind wander to that part of her anatomy. When she was almost done he wondered if he didn’t like her hair better the way it had been earlier. It had looked like she had just crawled out of bed.
He turned and tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him at the desk. His eyes roamed the sheets but the figures made no sense to his muddled brain. His head was turned away from her but every motion from her was foremost on his mind. After she had finished brushing her hair she tossed it over her back and after cleaning the brush went to set it back in its place upon the shelf.
The Gypsy Witch Page 6
