A frown of distaste crossed his brow as he jerked his hand from her breast. “Sorry, Queenie, I’ve got other things on my mind tonight.” It was clear what this woman had been imprisoned for, and he was in no mood to put up with such solicitations. Sara mightn’t be the woman for him, but neither was Queenie.
Unfortunately, Queenie didn’t seem to realize that. Quick as lightning, she slid her hand to cover the bulge in his breeches created by his thoughts of Sara. “Ooh, guv’nor,” she cooed, her accent thickening to a more cockney one as she rubbed him with practiced fingers, “y’re lyin’ through yer teeth. Y’re horn-mad, you are, and I know just how to soothe that sort of madness.”
He didn’t even crack a smile at what was probably an unintentional pun on his name. Instead, he shoved her hand away from his groin. “Every man on this ship is horn-mad tonight, Queenie. Go find one of them to entice. I told you, I’m not interested.”
She looked insulted. “You savin’ it for somebody else, then?” When he lifted one eyebrow, a mulish expression crossed her face. “You savin’ it for ‘milady’? ’Cause if you are, y’re wastin’ yer time. She thinks herself too good for the likes of me and you. She’ll not satisfy that burnin’ in your breeches, I warrant you that.”
The fact that she was probably right didn’t make her words sit any easier. He paused a moment to fix her with his most blistering look, the one that sent his men scurrying for cover. The blood drained from her face.
“Thank you for the warning about Miss Willis,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “But I don’t take advice from whores.”
That was enough to send her flouncing off in a huff. But not enough to gain him solitude, for another woman appeared to take her place. This could get tedious, he thought. When he’d given the women a choice, he hadn’t thought they’d be running after him with such enthusiasm. He started to walk away, but the woman called out to him.
“Cap’n Horn, sir! I brought you your supper!” When he halted and turned toward her, she thrust a plate loaded with food at him. “Mr. Drummond told me to bring you this.”
She wouldn’t look at him, and he suddenly realized this wasn’t a task she’d wanted to perform. He should’ve known that not all the women were of Queenie’s insolent stamp, but he was unused to having a woman do things for him, so he’d overreacted.
Relaxing, he took the plate from her. “Thanks. I must admit I’m hungry.” She seemed at a loss for words, and now that she was standing nearer, he could see the fear on her face. “What’s your name?”
“Ann Morris, sir.” Her eyes flitted from him to the other women. Clearly she wanted to be anywhere but here talking to him, and for some reason that made him determined to allay her fears.
“Morris. That’s a Welsh name, isn’t it?”
Her eyes went wide. Then she nodded. “From Carmarthenshire, sir.”
He smiled. “You needn’t keep calling me ‘sir,’ you know. I’m no better than you or any of the other women.”
“Yes, sir. I-I mean, yes.”
He speared some meat on his fork and brought it to his mouth. It was tough and tasteless as usual, but he was hungry, and it was all Silas was capable of. As Ann fidgeted and shifted her stance as if preparing to dart off, he asked, “Have you eaten?”
Her head bobbed furiously up and down, making her curls jiggle. He flashed her a smile. That seemed to ease her fears some, for she stopped fidgeting. Between bites of biscuit and stew, he looked her over. She was a little thing, with fetching eyes of a color indeterminable in the lantern light and dark, curly hair cropped short about the ears, probably by the prison authorities. If it hadn’t been for her womanly figure, he might have thought her only a child.
This was the sort of woman he ought to consider as a wife. She was pretty and personable. She probably knew how to provide those feminine comforts he’d never had in his life. Once she got past her fear of him, she’d be a sweet and pleasing companion.
A pity the only feeling she brought out in him was paternal. He sighed. “Are you and the women comfortable? Is everything below decks to your satisfaction?”
Her face brightened, making her look even more angelic. “Oh, yes, it’s all very nice. Much nicer than on the Chastity.”
He sopped up some gravy with his biscuit. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be on the Chastity?”
A sorrowful look crossed her face. She perched her small frame on a nearby box with a sigh. “I was sent to prison for stealing.”
He suppressed his urge to laugh. “Stealing? You?” Somehow he couldn’t imagine this timid little creature stealing anything.
But she nodded. “My ma was ailin’, you see, and I needed medicines for her, but I couldn’t afford to buy them. The little blunt I got from workin’ at the millinery shop weren’t even enough to keep me and Ma fed. So one day when I was passin’ the open door to a cottage and nobody was about, I went in and…and saw a silver pot and took it.”
Her eyes clouded over. “It was dreadful wrong, I know. I just thought if I could sell it, I could buy the cures for ma.” She shook her head. “But the shopkeeper I tried to sell it to…he’d seen the pot before. He knowed then that I’d took it, and he…he gave me over to the magistrate.”
Sympathy for the poor Welsh girl swelled within him. He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. “And the English had you transported for that? For one silver pot?”
“Yes, sir. My ma—” Her voice broke. “My ma was so ashamed of me. She wouldn’t own me, even to the day she died, because I’d ended in the gaol. And she was right. It was wrong what I done. It was very wrong.” She turned her face away so that her profile was to him, and the lantern light flickered off her dampening cheeks.
She was crying. Poor little thing, she was crying. He laid his hand on her shoulder. “You did what you had to, Ann, and you weren’t treated fairly. You weren’t wrong. Your country was wrong. There’s something badly lacking in a country where an old woman can’t get medicine, and no one will help.”
“I think so, too.” She took a few shuddering breaths. “That’s why I don’t mind so much that you’re takin’ us off to an island. Things can be better there, if it’s done right.”
If it’s done right. A twinge of guilt hit him. Sara didn’t think he was doing it right. Not at all. She thought he was being officious and uncaring. She thought he was taking advantage of young innocents like Ann.
Disturbed by that thought and the confusing emotions it stirred in him, he took his hand from her shoulder and stared out at the ocean. “So you don’t mind having to marry one of my men?”
She rubbed her tears away with one small fist. “Not now that Petey’s here.”
“Petey?”
He couldn’t tell for certain in the lantern light, but he thought she blushed. “Peter Hargraves. You know, the sailor you took from the Chastity.”
Not bothering to correct her false impression, he said, “Ah, yes.”
She scanned the deck, then pointed toward the forward house. “There he is now, with Miss Willis.”
His gaze swung instantly toward where she pointed. It was indeed the crewman from the Chastity, and Sara was at his side.
Gideon’s eyes narrowed. So that’s where she’d been, off talking to Hargraves. What was the man to her? And what was she plotting with him? He had no doubt she was plotting something; Sara seemed to spend all her time thinking of ways to thwart him.
He looked down at Ann and noticed she was watching Hargraves as closely as he’d watched Sara. Gesturing toward the couple, Gideon said, “Tell me something, Ann, what do you know about Petey?”
A shy smile touched her lips. “Oh, he’s a fine man, he is. He kept watch over us on the Chastity.”
Gideon ate more of his meal and watched the mysterious Petey head toward the foc’sle, leaving Sara to pick her way aft. “What do you mean?”
“He stood watch outside the cells every night. The cap’n ordered it. Petey kept an eye out
for all of us.” She ducked her head, but not before Gideon caught a glimpse of the hero worship in her eyes. “Especially me.”
So Ann was infatuated with the little Englishman, was she? That’s why she didn’t mind marrying, and why she would never consider Gideon as a husband.
He didn’t bother to examine the feeling of relief that swept him. He merely continued to eat. And watch Sara. “Why do you think he was talking to Miss Willis?”
Ann kicked her short legs back and forth against the box. “I don’t know. Maybe because she looks out for us, too. Maybe they’re talkin’ about what to do once we reach the island.”
Maybe, he thought. It wouldn’t surprise him to find Sara enlisting the help of someone who’d already proved sympathetic toward the women. Not that you gave her any other choice, he thought. Who else was she supposed to turn to for help?
He scowled. Confound her. That woman had him doubting all his plans. And now she’d have Hargraves helping her.
“Did Miss Willis have anything to do with Hargraves’s becoming the women’s protector?” he asked.
Ann looked confused. “I don’t think so. She didn’t seem to know him any better than the rest of us.”
“So she has no connection with Hargraves?”
“None that I know of.”
He relaxed. At least he need not worry about that.
She cocked her head and stared up at him. “Why?”
“No reason.” He’d finished his food now, and it was long past time for the women to be sent below. His men were getting rowdy, and soon some of them would make fools of themselves, or worse yet, accost the women more forcefully than they should, which wouldn’t smooth relations any.
Handing Ann his empty plate, he said, “Forgive me, but I have some matters to attend to. Thank you for keeping me company.”
She cast him a smile so brilliant that for a second, he almost envied scrawny Hargraves, the man who obviously had her affections. But the feeling didn’t last. Although he wanted a sweet, quiet wife, Ann was just a bit too sweet and quiet for him.
Gideon crossed the deck to where Barnaby flirted with a bony-armed doxy and pulled him aside. “It’s time to get the women below. Have Miss Willis help you.” He scanned the deck for her, scowling when he saw her talking animatedly amid a large group of women. First Peter Hargraves, and now the women. Sara never stopped scheming, did she?
Barnaby had already started to walk away, but Gideon halted him. “Wait, I’ve changed my mind. Leave Miss Willis out of it. I’ll take care of her.”
“Oh?”
“I’m putting her in your cabin. You can bunk with Silas for the next couple of days.”
“She won’t like that.”
Gideon flashed him a grim smile. “I don’t care what she likes. If she spends her nights with the women, she’ll cook up another rebellion. I want her where I can keep an eye on her.”
A sly grin twisted Barnaby’s lips. “That’s the only reason for putting her in my cabin? The cabin right across from yours?”
“That’s the only reason,” Gideon snapped. Confound the English bastard. He was a buck of the first head, so he expected every man to be one. “I’m going to tell her now. Wait until I’ve got her inside, then send the women below.”
“If you carry her off without a word of explanation, the women will want to know why. They look to her for help.”
That was exactly the problem. “Tell them whatever you want about it, as long as it doesn’t make them angry. But she’s staying in your cabin regardless of what they think.” With that, he strode away from his first mate.
For the hundredth time he cursed himself for succumbing to the whim that had made him take Sara aboard the Satyr. She’d been nothing but trouble from the moment she’d set foot on his ship.
The women scattered as he approached her, and he took that to be a bad sign. A bad sign indeed. “What are you plotting now?”
“Plotting?” she asked, her expression as innocent as a nun’s.
But he knew better than to trust that expression. “Yes, with the women. You must’ve been plotting something, or they wouldn’t have run off when I approached.”
She tossed her head back, and the wind tugged a few feathery locks away from her face, putting her stubborn features in high relief. “We were merely discussing what time to meet for classes in the morning. They ran off because they’re all terrified of you.”
He could hardly argue with that, since he’d just witnessed Ann Morris’s reaction to him. The thought that half the women feared him didn’t lighten his mood. Hooking his thumbs in his belt, he cast Sara a cool glance. “Aren’t you?”
Her eyes glittered in the lantern light, though he couldn’t help notice that her chin trembled. “I told you before. I don’t fear anything, least of all you.”
Stepping closer, he lowered his voice. “Really? Then you won’t mind sleeping in the cabin across from mine.”
Fear flashed in her face a second before she mastered it. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Pleased that he’d succeeded in ruffling her feathers, he took her arm and began leading her toward the quarterdeck. “You’ll be spending your nights in Barnaby’s cabin until we reach Atlantis Island.” When she looked at him in horror, he added, “Don’t worry, Barnaby will bunk with Silas. You’ll have the cabin to yourself.”
“But why?” She tried jerking her arm out of his grasp, and when he continued to propel her forward, she hissed, “I want to stay below with the rest of the women!”
“I know. You want to incite them to escape or rebel or engage in some other futile activity.” He thrust her through the entrance to the cabin area under the quarterdeck, then released her. “Well, I won’t have it. I run an orderly ship, and I won’t have you wreaking havoc aboard. The men and women are getting along fine, and I’d rather keep it that way.”
She whirled on him, mutiny showing in the set of her jaw and her fisted hands. “What do you intend to do? Imprison me in that cabin for the entire journey?”
“No. I just want you where I can see you, that’s all.” When her eyes flashed, he softened his tone. “You’re free to go wherever you want during the day, to have your classes and such, but I don’t want you closeted with the other women at night. Just call it a precautionary measure, and a mild one at that.”
His words seemed to mollify her, for she relaxed her stance.
He took a few steps forward, then stopped in front of Barnaby’s cabin. “Besides, you’ll be far more comfortable in this cabin than you would below decks.” He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. “See for yourself.”
Keeping a wary eye on him, she slipped past him and into the cabin. He followed her inside, turning up the lamp so she could see better. Surprise, then pleasure suffused her face with color.
Barnaby’s cabin was less comfortable than his, but not by much. Piracy had rewarded all of them well, evidenced by the wide bunk with its feather mattress, the full-length mirror that was testament to Barnaby’s vanity, and the carved ebony wardrobe Barnaby had acquired in Africa.
Of course, Sara had few clothes to put in that wardrobe. He regretted that he’d never given her a chance to pack her trunks before he’d taken her aboard the Satyr. Doing something about the women’s meager clothing would have to be the first order of business when they reached Atlantis.
“Will it do?” he asked as he folded his arms over his chest.
She turned to him. Her eyes grew shuttered and any signs of pleasure vanished from her face. “I suppose I can endure it.”
As if he couldn’t tell she liked it. He suppressed a smile. What a proud thing she was—it must be that noble blood running through her pure little veins. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to your rest. I must make sure the other women are settled.” He started to walk out.
“Gideon?”
At the sound of his Christian name on her lips, he froze. It felt so intimate, so sensual. He wanted to hear her use it again. He wanted to hear
her murmur it in that low, throaty voice that—
Confound it, there he went again, thinking of her as a woman. A desirable, accessible woman. “Yes?” he said, more harshly than he’d intended.
“When we reach the island, what will the…um…sleeping arrangements be?” Though it clearly embar rassed her to ask, she didn’t flinch when he fixed her with a narrowed gaze. Not even having considered the question until now, he didn’t answer her immediately.
She lifted her chin just high enough to torment him with a tantalizing flash of long white throat. “Well?”
You’ll sleep with me. The thought came instantly into his mind, and just as instantly he cursed himself for it. She wouldn’t be sleeping anywhere near him on Atlantis if he had anything to say about it.
“The men will sleep on the ship and the women in our huts until the weddings.” The men would grumble loudly about that, but it was the only solution he could think of at the moment.
She took a steadying breath. “And will I be allowed to…lodge with the other women?”
Casting her a long, meaningful look, he lowered his voice. “Only if you behave yourself.”
A hint of her earlier willfulness glinted in her brown eyes. “You mean, only if I sit back and let you do as you wish with those women.”
“Exactly.”
She tipped her nose up high in the air. “In that case, I fear I shall never be able to behave myself.”
“Then I’ll have to respond accordingly, won’t I? Even if it means keeping you in the cabin across from mine until the day of the weddings.”
He waited until he saw the blush spread over her porcelain skin. Then, satisfied that he’d outraged her sufficiently to make her think twice the next time she wanted to cross him, he walked back to his cabin whistling.
Chapter 10
I’d a Bible in my hand,
By my father’s great command,
And I sunk it in the sand
When I sail’d…
—ANONYMOUS
“BALLAD OF CAPTAIN KIDD”
The Pirate Lord Page 12
