Nothing but the deck of the ship moved, the pirates waiting patiently to inflict their revenge upon the Swan. Lucien had watched over the last two hours as each member of the crew had grown more and more furious with their prey, the smaller vessel having done a remarkable job of inflicting damage upon them. Now they stood, hatred on their faces, greed lighting their eyes, their dirty and unkempt hands tight around the thick cords they held, the grapnels attached to the ends of the hemp swinging like pendulums.
It might have been better for the crew members of the Swan if their ship had been sunk, Lucien thought, but he’d ordered Tully not to do so. Despite the pirate’s protestations, Lucien had refused to risk harming the boy. As a result, the Swan would now have to face the furious and incensed members of the Revenger, and judging by the looks on their faces, few would survive the coming battle.
“Boarders away!” Tully called.
With a whoosh they swung their ropes. The grapnels flew through the air with talonlike precision and landed on the rail of the Swan.
“Heave to!”
Lucien tensed. If the Swan was planning to attack, now would be the time, for the Revenger was at its most vulnerable while the crew tugged the smaller vessel into their clutches.
Almost as if the captain of the Swan read his mind, battle cries rang through the air. Gunfire called out. Lucien stood there, daring a bullet to hit him, wishing a bullet would hit him, but of course, none did. Wood splintered above and around him, but none splintered his rotted soul.
“Get ‘em, boys!” Tully called, his voice filled with rage, blood spewing from a wound to his arm.
Lucien pulled out his own weapon, though he had no intention of helping Tully and his men. Let them do all the work. He would stand by and watch.
The crew of the Swan were obviously outnumbered, he noted, though one man in particular was doing more than his fair share of dispatching Tully’s men. He was atall man, with shoulder-length blonde hair and the best sword arm Lucien had ever seen. Unfortunately, his prowess with a blade could do nothing to stop the ball that sent him crashing to the deck, his legs shot out from beneath him. Still, he made a valiant attempt to rise, only to have the butt of a pistol smashed into his head.
The battle ended quickly, almost as if all the fight left the crew upon seeing the big man fall. Lucien felt elation surge through him. It was done. His mission was almost complete.
The smell of blood clogged the air as those members of the Revenger’s crew who weren’t on board the Swan took up where their crewmates had left off by once again pulling the ship toward them, until with a loud groan the two hulls collided.
With a precision which spoke of years of practice, the pirate crew herded the survivors of the Swan to the rear of the ship. Their wounded leader was dragged in their wake.
“Well, Yer Grace,” Tully said, scurrying over the combined rail of the two ships a few minutes later. “Seems we caught ‘em fer ya.”
Lucien eyed the wound on the pirate’s arm. “It would seem so, Tully, though not without bloodshed.”
“This?” He looked down at the wound. “’Tis nothing. A mere scratch.” He waved his arm in dismissal, then said, “Are ya comin,’ or do ya wait till we find the boy?”
“Lead on, my dear Tully. Lead on.”
Tully smiled, exposing a row of rotted teeth, then turned away and hopped over the rail.
Lucien climbed over the splintered rail, too, dropping onto the deck of the Swan an instant later.
The smell of gunpowder hung heavy over the deck, mixing with the brackish odor of salt and fear. It was quiet, the only sounds the shuffle of footsteps as the crew of the Revenger searched the ship, and the steady rush of the ocean against the sides of the two vessels; the riggings and giant sheets added their own melody to the cacophony.
“Where’s Scabbs?” Tully asked as he came to a halt by the rail. “There ya are. Take a few men and see to it that the remains of those sails are furled. An’ I want every foot o’ this ship searched. We’re lookin’ fer a boy. Bring ‘im back ta me unharmed.”
“Aye, sir.”
The pirate captain pierced one of his men with a glare. “Where’s the cap’n o’ this vessel?”
“I ‘ave ‘im ‘ere,” answered a gruff voice.
Tully turned toward the back of the ship, taking two steps toward the person who’d spoken, then suddenly halting in his tracks. The reason became apparent when the big blonde man said, “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Tully?”
Lucien’s brows rose, watching the play of emotions cross Tully’s face: rage, disbelief, and finally, glee.
Slowly, Tully crossed to where the big man stood on one leg, blood dripping down his torn breeches. “Hang me from the gallows,” he murmured, blinking his eye as if he still couldn’t believe what he saw. “Yer supposed to be dead. Saw ya fall off the deck with me own good eye.”
“I survived,” the tall man said. “You survived, too, I see.”
“No thanks to you,” Tully said softly. He took another step forward, now only an arm’s length away. For a long moment he simply stared, turning his head this way and that, and then he smiled, a great, giant, hearty grin that was all the more menacing because it didn’t quite reach his one good eye.
“Ya know, I never once afore believed in God, but with ya standing afore me, I ‘ave ta think otherwise. Not only that, but He ‘as a bloody sense o’ ‘umor.” He threw back his head and laughed and laughed, his crew laughing nervously along with him.
“Silence!” Tully roared.
The laughter abruptly died.
“Do ya know ‘oo this is, men?”
The men looked at each other uncomfortably, then exchanged sheepish glances.
“’Tis the Wolf. The man what did this to me.” He turned to his crew and lifted his patch, the skin beneath looking like a conglomeration of melted flesh-colored wax. Where his eye should have been there was only a deep gouge of pitted skin.
Murmurings began.
Tully leaned toward Lucien. “Have you heard o’ the man, Yer Grace?”
“Aye.” Lucien nodded, crossing his arms in front of him. So this was Garrick Wolf, Marquis of Cardiff. The hero of the Royal Navy. A man who’d dispatched more Caribbean pirates than all other naval officers combined. Strangely enough. Wolf seemed not at all disturbed bythe fact that he was now in the hands of one of those pirates.
Tully’s face turned an indignant red, his fury a palpable force. When Wolf looked away and blithely began to study Tully’s two henchman, the pirate captain’s temper snapped. “Grab ‘is arms,” he ordered, the corners of his mouth creased into a snarl.
Not by a blink of the eye did Wolf react to the two men who pulled his arms behind him. Not even when Tully stepped within striking distance of him, hauled his fist back and sent it flying into Wolf’s gut. Lucien’s brows rose as, somehow, the big man managed to stay upright, his eyes cold with indifference as they glared at Tully.
“Why don’t you tell your dogs to release me, Tully? Then we can settle our differences like men.”
In response, Tully hauled back and punched him again. Wolf’s breath escaped in a rush; his legs gave out beneath him.
“Enough, Tully,” Lucien called. “I grow weary of watching you play.”
Tully slowly straightened; his one eye glared at Wolf. “Aye, suppose yer right. I’ll enjoy ‘angin’ ‘im from a yardarm this evening, right after I poke ‘is eyes out.” He grabbed his enemy by the hair, jerking his head back. “Where’s the boy?”
“What boy?” Wolf managed to croak out, blood still oozing from the wound to his head.
Tully hauled back and hit him again; Wolf’s head snapped limply to the side. “Don’t be stupid. We ‘eard about the boy ya got on board. ‘Is grace ‘ere’s paid me a mighty sum o’ money to find ‘im.”
“Don’t have him.”
Tully drew back his fist, but he was stopped from landing another blow by Lucien’s own hand. “You can continue this later
, Tully. Right now I want every hand on deck searching this ship. The child’s on board somewhere. Find him.”
Tully’s hand slowly dropped to his side, a look of reluctant agreement covering his face. “Argh, no doubt yer right. Save the entertainment fer later. No doubt one o’ the other crew members’ll ‘talk.” He waved his hand. “Tie ‘im up, then take ‘im to the hold. You there, do as ‘is lordship says and keep searchin’ fer the boy.”
Pirates scattered as they followed Tully’s orders.
“Do me soul good ta see that bloody bastard in chains,” Tully murmured, his eye on Garrick. “’Ow ‘bout you, yer lordship? Ya must be pleased with the day’s work.”
Lucien said nothing as he watched Wolf struggle with his captors. “Pleased, yes.” He turned to the pirate. “But I have no soul, Tully. Best you remember that.”
16
Lucy was more furious than she could ever recall being in her entire life. She lay under the bed Garrick had stuffed her beneath. He’d ordered her to stay. To stay! Like she was some bloody mastiff forced to obey his master.
But for the fact that she was stuffed in between Beth and Tom like the meat of a sandwich, she would have long since kicked the bloody board out. As it was, she was forced to sit beneath the bed inhaling a musty odor and laying atop only God knew what. She shifted to her side, her right elbow colliding with Beth, who let out a gasp. The thin stream of light that trickled sluggishly through a crack allowed Lucy a view of her friend’s annoyed face. Her very annoyed face.
“Lucy, stop it.”
“I’m only trying to get comfortable, Beth. Tom, can you move over a bit?”
“Believe me, me loidy, I would if I could. Don’t fancy losin’ me manhood to yer elbow.”
“Tom!” Beth admonished.
“Shh,” Lucy interrupted, “both of you. I think I hear something.”
They grew silent.
“It sounds like footsteps,” Beth said, her voice rising an octave.
“Yes … yes, it does,” Lucy admitted.
They grew silent again until Beth whispered, “Lucy, quit poking me in the sides.”
“Beth, I’m not touching you.”
“Then what … ?” Beth looked down at the same time Lucy did, both of them spying the rat at almost exactly the same moment.
“Rat!” Beth screamed.
“Where?” Tom immediately asked.
“Lucy!” Beth all but screeched. “Oh, Lucy, get it off of me.”
Lucy did her best, but the rat was as much a prisoner as they were. It scurried over Beth’s abdomen, ran down her leg, then turned left and headed past her own feet toward Tom. Beth screamed louder, and Lucy was left with no choice but to reach out and cover her mouth.
No sooner had she done so than the sound of the cabin door splintering apart broke into the silence. Lucy’s heart beat like the hooves of a runaway horse; Beth squirmed alongside of her.
“They’re in ‘ere somewhere.”
“Aye,” answered another masculine voice.
The steps grew faint, then so heavy they vibrated beneath them. She turned her head and eyed the thin slit of light.
Beth started to struggle frantically and it was then that Lucy realized she was covering not only her friend’s mouth, but her nose. Immediately, she let go. Beth took a great, heaping gulp of air, her gasp sounding like a typhoon roaring overhead. The board was pried away. The nails screeched in protest. The wood splintered. The pirates had found them.
Beth rolled out from under the bed not a second later, but when she spied the repulsive-looking man who stood above her, she crawled backward until she hit the cabin wall.
Lucy crawled out from beneath the bed just in time to see her friend’s eyes roll back into her head.
Beth fainted.
Garrick tried to ignore the burning pain cascading through his knee, tried instead to focus on keeping his wits about him. Already, his skin burned from where they’d tied the rope around wrists, his captors having taken malicious delight in tightening the hemp as taut as it could be drawn. Now they tried to drag him toward the hold, but Garrick was determined to make it as difficult as possible.
There was a flurry of noise from the direction of his cabin. Dread surged through him when he spied Lucy being dragged toward Tully and the man beside him. His dread doubled when he noticed Beth being carried limply in the arms of a man who peeked lecherously at her breasts.
Lucy’s gaze darted around the deck, searching, her expression frantic, but he saw her relax the moment shespied him standing a few feet away. Then she tensed again, no doubt at the sight of the blood and bruises that covered him.
His heart filled with unaccountable pride as he watched her change from intimidated kitten to ferocious lioness in the space of a heartbeat. Not for her a cowering attitude. Instead, her eyes filled with inner fire, her shoulders stiffened, and if she’d had claws, Garrick would have bet she’d have unfurled them and directed them at her captors.
She was magnificent.
Tully seemed captivated by her, too. His lone pupil narrowed as it observed the touch-me-if-you-dare tilt to her chin, her chest heaving beneath her green dress. The only time his attention wavered was to glance briefly at Beth, dismissing her immediately. When he turned back to Lucy, desire, fascination, and possessiveness shone from his eyes.
A growl emerged from Garrick’s chest.
His captors must have heard it, for they suddenly pushed him to the deck. His head struck the boards with dizzying force, a spasm of pain shooting through his leg. A foot landed in his back to hold him down, though he struggled to get back up. Through half-closed eyes he saw Lucy charge in his direction, the only thing that stopped her the handful of hair Tully grabbed as she darted by. The sudden yank caused her to fall at his feet.
“What do you say, men. Should I take ‘er right ‘ere?”
Rage such as he’d never known burned through Garrick’s blood. It doubled when one of Tully’s henchmen came forward and quickly bound Lucy’s wrists behindher back at Tully’s nod. Garrick growled again. He burned to protect her, to smash his fists through Tully’s eye.
He tried to calm down, telling himself he would do Lucy no good angry. He needed to think. Tully’s “boss” was the dey of Algiers, a man who had personally put a price on his head, a price which a leech such as Tully wouldn’t hesitate to cash in on. If he was separated from Lucy his test would be over.
A second man emerged from the doorway, shoving Tom in front of him. The boy fell to his knees. Quick as a cat he got back up, darted forward, aimed, then kicked the pirate right between the legs.
The unwary man toppled to his knees.
His fellow pirates erupted into loud guffaws. A huge brute of a man came forward and grabbed Tom by the back of his white lawn shirt, picking him up off the ground and shaking him as if he were an errant puppy.
“Let me go, ya bloody bastard.” Tom railed his fist at his captor, but the man just held him further away, so that the boy’s fists flailed the air like oars out of water.
One of Tully’s henchmen pulled Lucy to her feet. She shot Garrick one last look of concern, then turned toward Tully, who stared at Tom intently.
“Is this the boy?” Tully asked Lucien.
Lucien came forward and stared into Tom’s angry, yet frightened eyes. For the briefest instant something flashed across the duke’s face, but then it was gone, replaced by triumph. “Aye.”
Tully nodded and turned back to Lucy. With one sweeping glance his eyes darted over her shapely legsand her breasts, which strained against her dress. She didn’t move when he came forward and reached out a hand to tilt her face for his inspection.
“Ya must be Wolf’s fancy piece. It’d take a spitfire like you ta interest ‘im, I’d wager.”
She didn’t say anything, just stared up at him, revulsion curling her lips.
“What yer name?”
Still, she didn’t answer.
“No matter. Won’t make no difference
what yer name is when I’m beddin’ ya.”
“I’ll kill you before I let you do that,” Garrick growled.
“I’d like to see you try,” Tully snickered with a pointed look at the men surrounding him. “Take ‘em back to the Revenger.”
“What do you think they’ll do to us?” Beth asked for about the twentieth time, still looking pale and drawn after the shock of waking up on board an enemy ship—in Tully’s giant bed, to be specific. “I’ve heard they sell women into harems,” she continued. “Do you think they still do that?”
Lucy released a pent-up breath of frustration and kept her eyes firmly fixed outside the ten or so cabin windows. Daylight was turning into dusk, the ocean changing into a deep midnight blue which blended into the sky so well, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.
“Oh, I doubt they’ll sell us just yet, Beth. Tully will rape us first, then, when he gets tired of us, he’ll give us to his men, then he’ll probably sell us.”
“Luce!”
Lucy turned back to Beth, who looked ready to expire on the spot. She placed a look of apology on her face. “Don’t pay attention to me, Beth. Seeing the man I love beaten to near death has made me a bit cross, not to mention I’m terrified of what they’re doing to Tom right now. And what they’ll do to us later.”
Beth nodded, her eyes drowning in tears. “What are we going to do?” she whispered. “We’ve no idea where Tom is or … or Garrick. There’s no one to protect us from those … those things outside.”
“I’ll protect us.” Lucy paced the length of the cabin, trying without success to come up with a plan that would render their captors insensible.
The cabin they were in was far more sumptuous than the captain’s cabin of the Swan, the floor even covered by an elegant Turkish rug. Bric-a-brac lay everywhere: strange masks and odd sculptures lay next to used cups, tidal charts, and in one case, a half-eaten piece of hard, moldy bread.
The cabin was actually split in two by a wide arch, the heavy oak beams carved long ago by some demented individual with a penchant for replicating skulls. There were screaming skulls, sneering sculls, grimacing skulls, and Lucy’s personal favorite, a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Every time she happened to glance at the ghastly thing, she shivered with revulsion.
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