“This gun is so damn heavy,” Keara mumbled, sliding a chair beneath the barrel to keep it propped up and level.
“What do you suppose she’s talking about in there?” Miranda asked.
“Do you trust her?” Cass answered, never looking away from the lounging men on the ground.
“Well, yes, I trust her. But, it would be nice to know what the hell is being said.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to wait, Mir,” Keara sighed.
Inside the house, the captain assisted Ivory in turning the table upright, and she pulled the arrow from the wall with a firm yank and tossed it to him. “Here’s your hello back,” she said, and then pulled him up a chair and took one for herself. She laid down her sword, but held the grip firmly in her hand.
“You’re quite the woman aren’t you, Madame…?”
“Ivory Shepard. And those other formidable young women are my cousins. I see no need to share their names, as of yet.”
“Well, Madame Shepard, you obviously called me in here for a reason; so, what is it?”
“Well, Captain…?”
“Captain Christopher Barclay of the Demon Sea,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking over Ivory as if she were a meal about to be brought to the table.
“You have two choices as I see it, Captain. You can either take your crew and leave with your lives, or…”
“What makes you think that just because you have guns and blades that you could take on all of us and live?” he interrupted and asked, as he leaned towards her and pressed his fist into his hip.
“Aren’t you already missing a few men, Captain?
“I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re responsible for that.”
Ivory leaned back out of the Captain’s breath and said, “Or you take us with you, wherever you are headed.”
The Captain laughed, low and soft at first, and then gradually it grew louder and harder, angering Ivory with every breath he drew to carry it.
“Pick your best man.”
“What?” he asked, still laughing.
She rose from her chair, kicked it aside so hard it tipped, and spun across the floor and repeated, “Pick your best man.”
“My best man? For what?” His face grew stern and his brow lowered as he, too, stood.
“To fight me. Any weapon other than guns, of course.”
“You’re not only foolish, you’ve a death wish, woman. Now, why don’t we stop all of this nonsense and take a walk into that room over there to settle this as a man and a woman should,” he growled, kicking his chair aside as well and pouncing on her from behind, tying her up tightly in his arms.
“Get off of me, you disgusting pig!” she cried out as he lifted her into the air and carried her into the bedroom, pinning her arms at her sides as the sword fell to the floor.
“Why are you making this so entertaining, Ivory? You really must stop this. You’re resistance is only making me want you more.” He grunted, tossing her down on the bed and slamming the door closed.
Ivory sprang up and leapt from the bed onto his back, knocked off his hat, and grabbed two handfuls of his greasy black hair, nearly losing her grip as the scraggly mane slid through her fingers.
“Any last words, Captain?”
He continued to laugh as he crashed backwards into the dresser, trying to free himself, but she held on and latched onto his cravat, pulling it tight against his neck until the laughing stopped when she cut off his airway. He clawed at the scarf, trying to get his fingers under it, but Ivory wrapped her legs tightly around him and laid back as if pulling a horse to a stop, using most of her body weight to hold on as she hung from him.
He continued trying to shake her off, but fell back onto the bed on top of her. He reached back and clawed at her nightgown, pulling it hard, tearing the fabric away from her body. Yet Ivory would not relent. Finally, the Captain began to fall limp on top of her. She released the scarf with one hand, snatched the cutlass from his belt and pushed the point to his throat until a trickle of blood covered the tip and rolled slowly around and down the back of his neck.
“Get…the fuck…off… me,” she said through panted breaths and gritted teeth as she pushed him, rolling him to his left—just enough to where she could scoot from beneath him. Gradually, air began to pass through his compressed wind pipe and refill his deflated lungs. He coughed hard, repeatedly, and rolled completely to his side, gagging and choking for air.
Ivory leapt to her feet, panting hard, but still breathing. Her heart thumped in her chest as if she’d just run a mile. She leaned forward, catching herself by the knees for a moment. Then, she stood straight and raised her arm slowly with her hand faced down, clutching the knife. Ivory pointed it directly at him. “I certainly hope…you are your best man, because if so…you’re taking us with you.”
“I should kill you for this,” he whispered, pulling the cravat from his neck and blotting the blood that still seeped from the puncture in his gullet.
“So typical. You attempt to rape me, and when I fight back and best you, you want to kill me. In case you missed the past few minutes, Captain, I could have killed you twice, but I let you live because I need you alive. You will take us with you, and you will instruct your crew they are not to lay a hand on any of us, or I can promise you that the first man who tries to do so will feel my razor slice through his throat. The last thing he’ll see is my eyes before the Devil welcomes him home.”
“And what’s in all of this for me? Kill me if you wish, but there is no way you can expect me to walk out there and tell those men what happened here. They’ll never respect me again, and they certainly won’t abide by any rule I give not to have a turn with each of you by sundown tonight.”
Ivory walked to the dresser, never lowering the cutlass or taking her eyes off of Barclay, and pulled open the top drawer. She reached in and recovered a white neck scarf, shook it out, and tossed it to him. “Put that on over the other one. Yours can stop the bleeding. Mine will conceal the bruise around your neck. I’ll not divulge to your crew what transpired here, and you can have everything on this farm except for the personal items that belong to my cousins and me. You get what you need to cover your honor, and we get what we want. I don’t care what you have to tell them, but we’re getting on that ship, and you will protect us. Give us thirty minutes to pack our things but…we’ll also need sailing clothes—same as the men wear.”
“This is insane,” he croaked, tying the scarf around his neck and rubbing his throat gently.
“I let you live. Life is not insane. Expecting it to always go the way you think it should however, is lunacy. Now get up and let’s move. I suspect what you’ve taken so far from the people on this riverbank, as well as what I’m giving you, is more than enough to set sail immediately.”
“You have no idea what you’re getting these women into, Ivory,” Barclay spoke as he stood.
“You have no idea what I’m getting them away from either. If we stay here, eventually we rot for the rest of our lives under some fat, filthy farmer who hasn’t an inkling of what we’ve been through, or what we’re worth. Worse than that, we might not be as lucky the next time your sort comes along in the night, and we end up drawing our last breath with some smelly, dirty pirate beast on top of us, stealing what’s left of our dignity before he slits our throats. I’m giving us our freedom. I’m saving us no matter what it takes! I’ll never die at the hands of some pirate bastard, and I’ll kill any man who ever tries to hurt one of those girls, too.”
“My sort…I find it remarkable that a woman as smart as you cannot see the irony in all of this.”
“What irony? That you walked into my house believing you were just going to take what you wanted, go back to your ship, and move on to the next? Obviously there’s irony in the fact that I now hold you hostage.”
“The irony, my dear, is you calling me a pirate when you’re the one holding the knife and forcing me to give you passage on my ship. Just between yo
u and me, Madame, it appears there is more than one pirate in the room.”
About the Author
P.S. (Peggy) has always had a love of books and writing. She also paints and draws and although writing takes up the majority of her free time by choice, she loves spending time with her friends and family.
Her first novel “Fireflies” was published in March of 2013 with GMTA Publishing and her second, “Hope From the Ocean” was published in March of 2014, also with GMTA.
Peggy now independently publishes her own novels.
Peggy’s goal is to become a full time writer and spend the remainder of her days creating worlds, characters and stories that will carry on long after she’s written her last word.
More of The Razor’s Adventures
DEMONS & PEARLS
Book 1
JADED TIDES
Book 2
(Coming Soon!)
AMBER WAKE
Gabriel Falling
With Ronovan Hester
(Coming Soon!)
THE BLUE DIAMOND
THE RAZOR’S EDGE
Follow P.S. Bartlett
Website: http://psbartlett.me/
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IVORY DAWN (The Razor's Adventures) Page 2
