by Mary Wine
Giving it a tug, she pulled until a tall, round bucket appeared. It was full of water. Sticking a finger into it she carried it to her lips to taste it.
Sweet relief filled her mouth with that single drop of fresh water. She was too thirsty to care about niceties. She cupped her hand and scooped up the water. Some of it ran down her chin but that didn't detract from the enjoyment of it filling her mouth. The skin on her neck enjoyed the slide of water over it. When it reached her collar, it soaked into the fabric, soothing the overheated skin imprisoned beneath. She dipped her hand several more times before forcing
herself to stop and draw in a deep breath. Her stomach rumbled in warning, so much water
threatening to make her sick. She focused her attention on keeping what she'd drunk in her belly.
Whatever it took...
Warren regretted his words, regretted the need driving him to such lengths. But he would do what had to be done. The slim figure standing at the well was too trusting. She never looked over her shoulder. It was exactly what he needed, almost too good to be believed, but he hated himself for taking the steps toward her.
Chapter Four
It was amazing how a little water could restore a person's resolve. Lorena sighed and drew a last deep breath. Yes, she felt much better now. She smelled the fresh air again and felt the cooling night breeze on her cheeks. The burning heat was being carried away as she listened to the slap of the palm leaves.
A hand clamped down over her mouth, dragging her back against a solid body. She bucked
frantically, trying to twist free. Whoever held her, lifted her completely off the ground. One thick arm bound her around the waist while the hand remained over her mouth, stifling any sound she tried to make. Two large steps and she felt her feet dangling over the water. Her eyes rounded when she noticed the rowboat. The bonnet still pinned to her head only allowed her to see
directly in front of her. What had been empty except for oars was now full of dark shapes. They reached up for her feet, hard hands closing around her ankles. She kicked frantically, her mind searching for any means of escape.
She sank her teeth into the fingers pressing against her lips.
"Viper..."
The hand left her mouth instantly, but he released her waist too. She fell toward the boat, landing on top of the men in it. Pain shot through her back and shoulders. Her dress became a tangled mess, and she kicked at it, trying to get her feet on something solid.
The boat rocked dangerously and the men grabbed her to keep her still.
"Ease up there or we'll capsize."
Lorena snarled at the warning. "Unhand—"
The same hard hand slapped back over her mouth. "Make for the gate lads or we're done for."
Her captor spoke in a harsh whisper but the tone terrified her. It was solid as steel. He
imprisoned her against his body again, this time throwing a leg over hers to trap her completely.
She strained against his hold but it was like iron. Blood seeped over her lips from where she'd bitten him, but he kept his hand in place.
The other men dipped the oars into the water. The boat headed for the small arches that led to the sea. The iron gates were still raised and they slipped quietly out of the inner fort.
"Now, men, row! Row for your lives!"
Her captor gave the command. The men dug into their task, working their oars in unison. Light from the fires on the wall shone down on them. The hand over her mouth released her lips but returned with a knife. He pressed the cool blade against her neck.
"I suggest you stay still if you want to keep your skin uncut."
She swallowed and even that motion made the blade press uncomfortably against her throat. Her heart accelerated, making everything seem as though it was moving in slow motion. On top of the walls, men pointed their rifles directly at them. She could see the soldiers looking down the long barrels of the weapons to line up a perfect kill shot. Terror choked her for one horrible moment which felt like an hour. Her ears strained to hear the explosion of the rifles being fired.
"Hold your fire!" The command echoed up and down the wall. The men looking down their guns hesitated but raised their heads and the muzzles of the deadly guns.
Breath rushed back into her chest, but it lodged in her throat when she realized how fast the boat was pulling away from the fort.
And taking her with it.
She kicked again, frantic to escape from the unknown men holding her. The knife slid into her skin, spilling warm blood down her throat.
"Damn it. I said hold still."
Her neck burned and the scent of her own blood filled her nose. "I don't care. As if I'd do anything you tell me to."
The arms around her tightened, locking her so hard against him she struggled to breathe. The knife remained at her throat and a soft sound passed her lips. She couldn't prevent it; helplessness was filling her so full it bubbled over.
"I'm sorry but you will do what I say." He spoke softly next to her ear. A whimper of self-pity tried to answer him but she clamped it behind her teeth, refusing to show him any more
weakness. She tried to push the hand holding the knife away from her neck but he didn't move, not even a tiny amount.
Men were filling the walls on the fort and holding torches high to try to cast light far enough out to illuminate the boat. But the efforts of her captors were pulling the small craft out farther and farther into the darkness. The oars slid into the water with smooth sounds and the men working them panted. They were rowing to freedom and she could hear them straining toward their goal.
She couldn't blame them...
But she hated the one holding her. In the blackness she felt his heart beating against her back.
He'd raised his head, no longer hiding his behind her own.
"Keep north." His voice was deeper now. A shiver went down her body. The little reaction annoyed her and she renewed her efforts to be free.
"Release me, sir!"
The knife lifted away but the hand around her chest remained, along with his leg. Tipping her head up, she caught her first look at the man who had kidnapped her. A gasp left her lips when she recognized him as the one who had told her where the water was. She was a trusting fool indeed.
"Can you swim?" He held her steady, completely ignoring her demand.
"Of course I can."
The man tightened his embrace. Oh she was so naive. But she could not take back the
information she'd just handed him.
"You.. .mongrel." She wished she knew how to swear. Lorena suddenly understood why prostitutes developed gutter language. They had to deal with rough handling such as this. Her heart was racing, straining against her corset. She was keenly aware of his body. It was much harder than she'd thought another human might feel. His strength fully amazed her. He held her without any hint of weakness. But he did remove the knife from her throat. She bucked when one arm moved, giving her the illusion of freedom.
An illusion was all it was. His embrace held her in spite of her struggles. A soft sound of frustration came past her ear before he clamped his right arm back around her. All the while, the men worked the oars. She heard every dip into the water but could only see straight ahead.
Idiotic bonnet. Society was so worried about her flirting, it had trapped her in a hat which kept her from seeing someone sneaking up behind her. She strained once more, needing an outlet for her rage. A frustrated sigh came from her captor. He leaned closer to her ear and she actually felt his warm breath.
"We're well away from the fort. Do you really wish a watery grave tonight? It would not be an easy death, I assure you."
"Do you offer me one then?" She turned her head because she wanted to see him, the brim of her bonnet prevented it. But he was correct;
the walls of the fort had faded into the night. She couldn't see the light from the wall torches any longer. A shaft of fear went through her. There was no preventing it. Nothing but darkness
"As soon as you need me no longer, will that knife finish its work, granting me a swift death?"
"Light ahead, Captain."
There was both joy and fear in the man's voice. Lorena turned to look at him. The moon cast an eerie glow on his face, but she could not miss the longing in his expression. However much she detested her current circumstances, she could not fail to enjoy watching the men manning the oars. They looked radiant, lifting their faces toward the twinkling beacon in the distance like it was a promise of eternal youth.
Compared to their life at the fort, she supposed it was. Her heart softened, their plight had been a grim one indeed. But their success meant her ruin. Once she was needed no further, a slice across her throat might be the last thing she felt in this life. Warm blood was already oozing down her neck. She could smell its metallic scent.
"Careful now, wait for the signal. If we row to a man-of-war, our efforts will have been for naught and we'll face the gallows for sure. Strike the match."
One man reached into his hair and pulled a small bundle from it. He'd hidden it at the base of his ponytail. He picked at it for a moment before pulling a thin piece of fabric loose. Holding it carefully he drew it quickly along the side of the boat. It flared to light so brightly she closed her eyes against the stinging pain. The scent of burning wood filled her nostrils. Blinking against the light, Lorena opened her eyes to find the man holding the match high. He kept it there until the orange flame touched his skin and he flicked it overboard. The flame died instantly on the
surface of the water.
The other men held their oars in place. The current rocked the little boat while time froze once again. Her heart seemed to beat louder, filling her ears. Each breath took effort to draw and push down into her lungs. The light in the distance twinkled, beckoning them forward out of the
growing chill. But the men in the boat held steady.
"Another."
The man holding her was obeyed. Another match flared to life, a tiny orange flame giving more light than she'd ever thought possible. Compared to the vast darkness they floated on, it was abundant. Just like the voice of the man holding her. It was rich and filled with confidence. She was tempted to relaxed against him. In fact, struggling to remain rigid was taking more and more strength.
Another light joined the one in the distance and a third. Relief coated the faces of the men holding the oars and they smiled. A soft sob left her lips. Witnessing their joy was both heart-warming and horrifying. Each breath suddenly seemed precious as she wondered just when she'd feel the kiss of that cold steel again.
"Take us home, lads. Take us home."
They needed no encouragement. The men dug into the water with renewed strength. The boat
glided toward the lights, gaining speed with each stroke. A ship emerged from the night. Its hull was dark and foreboding. She'd never seen such a thing; even the canvas sails were oddly dark.
Men moved along her rail, peering over at them. A rope ladder came rolling down the hull. It danced wildly for several moments before restless into the same gentle roll of the ship.
The first man reached for the rope ladder almost frantically. He was already climbing by the time they collided with the ship's hull. Hands reached for him at the top, gripping and pulling him over the rail.
The arms around her suddenly opened. Her thoughts were a bubbling mess of apprehension and
determination to see the sun rise. The men were absorbed with getting to the ladder. Kicking at her tussled skirts and petticoats, she struggled to place her feet on the bottom of the boat.
A hard arm hooked her around the waist and lifted her without effort. Her feet connected with the concave bottom of the boat, but standing up increased the gentle sway to a bobbing which threatened to send her crashing down in a tangle of off-balance limbs. The unrelenting arms of her captor pulled her close, saving her from that fate. She couldn't help but be grateful for his stable frame, but she resented it as well.
If she were back at the fort, she wouldn't need his assistance.
If you were back at the fort, you 'd be locked in a cell...
That thought gave her little comfort. However had her life turned so grim? Her life under
Godford's rule was suddenly gleaming with appeal like a Christmas morning.
"Mind your head, Captain!"
Her captor covered her head with his forearm, hugging her tightly against him. Her face heated in spite of the dreary circumstances. Tears actually stung her eyes because it was possible this was the only embrace she might ever feel.
Something hit the boat. The little vessel pitched from the impact, taking her along with it.
Instinct took over, causing her arms to clutch at the only steady thing available. The brim of her bonnet crumpled against the wide chest of her captor. The boat dipped low but his stance never faltered. There was amazing strength in him. Maybe it was the fact that he was so much larger than she was or maybe it was the fact that she expected him to kill her.
He reached down, plucking something heavy from the bottom of the boat. He slid one hand
across her back, sending a bolt of heat down her spine. She felt every finger right through her corset. Goose bumps spread over her arms in response.
"My apologies, but I've no desire to taste the ocean tonight."
He dropped a thick rope right over her head. Another followed and he pushed them down her
body with quick motions. The rope smelled faintly of dried salt, and it was wide as her fist. One loop hung below her waist. He pulled the top one back up so that it was beneath her arms.
"Wait. What are you doing?"
"Getting well away from the bastard you're engaged to." Deep satisfaction coated his words. In the dark she caught the first glimpse of his face. It was nothing but moonlight and darkness. The set of his jaw was solid. Their eyes met for a mere fraction of a moment, but a shiver shook her for what she witnessed burning there. Hard determination. This man was accustomed to being
obeyed, and when that failed, he took what he wanted.
"Hoist away!"
The ropes around her tightened and pulled her right out of the boat.
"Wait.. .no.. .release me..."
Her words were lost as the loop below her waist caught at her knees and the one around her body held her weight under her arms. She bent just like a babe being cradled by its mother. Looking up, she followed the length of rope to where it was hanging down from one of the rails used for the sails. It ran through a pulley and down onto the deck of the ship. It jerked in steady motions, each one taking her higher. When she reached the rail she could see a neat row of four men using their strength to pull her upwards. Another man reached over the rail with a long pole that had a wicked-looking hook on the end of it. He angled it expertly to capture the rope holding her and pulled her over the rail.
The men supporting her weight released her and she ended up lying on the deck with the rope still trapping her legs together. Her face burned scarlet when she struggled against her bonds only to end up on all fours with her bottom stuck up in the air. Pain shot up from her bent elbows and knees where they bore her weight against the hard surface of the deck. A few chuckles
scraped over her ears before a sharp grunt silenced them.
The arm of her captor hooked her around the waist yet again and she snarled as her temper
burned past the last of her determination to behave with dignity.
Dignity be damned. If she was going to die, at least she would face her fate with courage.
"Make sail!"
Her captor commanded the gawking crew at the same time he freed her from the coils of rope.
Men began climbing the rigging and her heart froze.
"No. Not while I am still here..."
&nb
sp; No one gave her any heed. The first men reached the yardarms, moving across them on confident feet. In the darkness it looked almost surreal, like a nightmare, but the hands on her confirmed it was very real. There was no safe sunrise waiting to free her from this horrifying event.
"I said no!" Lorena stared at the man in front of her. He dropped the rope and faced her. She had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. His expression gave her no hope. It was set and hard. But worst of all, pity shone from his eyes.
"My apologies, madam."
His apologies? Lorena blinked, trying to overcome the shock. She shook with her rising temper.
A person apologized when they were tardy for an appointment or clumsy with a tea service. The word was grossly misplaced during an abduction.
"I shall not accept your apology, sir. Place me back in that boat. I insist" Her voice rose like a fishwife's, and she did not care.
"You'll never make it back on your own."
The sails crackled and filled. The ship jerked and began moving faster. The motion added more fuel to her temper.
"I am not helpless—"
"But you are also not endowed with the strength of two men either. Rowing against the current, I'd still worry about sending two of my men back to that fort. You would wash out farther within an hour. It would take days for you to die of exposure."
"But.. .1 cannot remain here..." She couldn't, but for some reason it was becoming difficult to think. Her brain felt fuzzy and the strength was rising up out of her body like heat off a newly baked loaf of bread. She turned toward the rail and the little boat was already out of sight, the ship having pulled away from it. A hand caught her upper arm, pulling her back.
"Unhand.. .me—"
She turned to face him but a wave of dizziness swamped her. The deck kept spinning even
though her feet felt planted firmly beneath her. A warm trickle of fluid touched her chest, followed closely by several more.
"Jesus." Her captor grasped her neck, his hand closing all the way around her throat.
But fear didn't flood her. Instead rage for all the things she had never experienced filled her.
