“What are you doing?”
“You’re still bleeding,” she said and pressed the cloth against his cheek.
He softened and allowed her to clean the cut with the small amount of water they had. Then she held the rag to his face and asked, “What do you think they’ll do to us?”
“Kill us,” he said cavalierly.
With that, she gave him the rag and went back to sit on her box.
Gaston set his hat over his face and settled in for a nap.
* * *
Hours later Frederica slumped on the cold, wet ground. She’d given up sitting on the crate and had slunk to the floor to stretch out. What she wouldn’t give for a blanket, a pillow—anything soft. Everything in her world felt hard.
When she was growing up, her family had more prestige than wealth, but she’d always known comfort. Each night she’d slept in a comfortable bed, had plenty to eat, and a suitable, if not grand, home in which to live. She’d never imagined a place as foul as this. Perhaps she should just accept her fate, that her life would end on this wretched boat—a slave. That or she would perish at sea. That last idea frightened her more, and she unintentionally let out a low groan.
“What’s the matter with you?” Gaston asked.
“This place is just so awful,” she whined.
“Not the luxurious chamber to which mademoiselle is accustomed?”
“Are you this nasty to everyone, or only your fellow prisoners?”
“Are you this whiny all the time, or is this a special performance for yours truly?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?”
“Do you?” he spat.
“You’re insufferable!”
“You have no idea.” A tightness crept into his tone that sent a chill through her.
She recognized that it might be unwise to trifle with this man. “You must believe me that I did not tell the captain of your plot,” she pleaded with him.
He stared at her with cold, dark eyes. “I am weary of your protestations, wench. Make certain you don’t cross me again, or I will make damned sure you regret it.”
She gulped.
“I fear you underestimate the dangerousness of your interference in this business, foolish girl.”
His tirade was interrupted by Tiny, who opened the door and jerked Frederica to her feet.
“What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” Frederica cried.
Tiny silenced her with a slap across the face. “Capt’n wants to see ye.”
Trembling, she rubbed her stinging cheek and allowed herself to be led to Humphrey’s quarters.
“Here she is, Capt’n. Ye wants I should stay?”
Tiny seemed eager to remain, but Humphrey declined his offer. “No, but stand outside until I’m finished with her.”
Bowing his head, Tiny left and closed the door behind him.
Frederica noticed the captain held a large cup of grog in his hand. Normally the sight would have pleased her, for it meant he’d be sleepy soon. But in this instance, she didn’t have much hope of that occurring.
“You little witch! I ought to wear out your bottom for betraying your ole captain like that.”
She raised her chin defiantly. “You’re too late.”
“Too late? What do ye mean?” he growled.
“Monsieur Galette has already seen to spanking my bottom.” She huffed in disgust. “Honestly, I don’t know which of you is worse.”
“You don’t, do ye?” His beady black eyes sparkled. “I’m about to change that.”
A cold draft blew through the room, and a shiver passed through her. It reminded her of when Cassandra used to say it felt like someone walked over your grave.
With speed she hadn’t known he possessed, Humphrey lunged forward, grabbed her by the waist, and hurled her over his lap. He held her fast against his cot with one hand while he yanked up her skirts with the other. “Let’s see the damage that bastard Galette did to ye.”
Frederica screamed, “Let me go, you beast! Let me go this instant!”
Humphrey merely laughed. “I’ll do no such thing. Ye’ll not be doing the orderin’ around here, lass.”
She held her breath while he inspected her behind, strumming his fingers over it as though he were playing an instrument.
“Aye, the man knows how to redden a bottom,” he said, then gave her already bruised fanny a wallop.
“Stop! Please stop,” she cried.
“I’ll do no such thing, Freddie. Now hold still or I’ll beat ye ‘til ye faint.”
She stilled, and a gripping white fear threatened to overtake her.
Strike after strike, he blistered her sensitive backside until silent tears trickled down onto the floor, forming a dainty little puddle beneath her. Next, he hauled her from his lap and threw her across the bed before fetching the dreaded leather strap.
The first whack sent a white wave of agony through her hindquarters. This was nothing like what Gaston had done. Gaston had been attempting to teach her a lesson, but Humphrey simply enjoyed beating people, torturing them.
She lay still as he punished her ass, lash after lash, her body too shocked too even flinch at the blows. Thought escaped her, the pain blocking out everything else. She bit down and focused on surviving his onslaught.
When he was satisfied with himself, he dumped her unceremoniously on the dirty floor.
“Yeow!” she screeched, having fallen on her inflamed posterior.
“Quiet down, wench,” he barked without a hint of sympathy. “Now see here. I’m going to do you a favor.”
She wiped her tears and glared at him. “What sort of favor?”
“I’m going to give ye a choice of fates. Ye can either perish with the bastard Galette…”
“And the alternative?” she asked.
“Or ye can stay here on this ship as the crew’s whore.” His lips curled into a devilish grin, and he raised an eyebrow.
“You must be joking.” Frederica shook her head.
“Neigh. I am completely without jest.” He eyed her the way a cat stares at a cornered mouse.
“But—but I am no whore, sir. I am a virgin,” she sputtered.
He laughed and whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t think they’ll care.”
She gasped. “Why would you think I would agree to such a thing?”
“Whoring or death…” He pretended to consider the matter. “Hmmm, some might find the former preferable to the latter.”
“Not me. There must be one hundred men on this ship!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t let them all have ye at once,” he laughed. “I’d make ‘em take turns, but I’d watch.” He licked his lips and rested his hand on his crotch.
“You, sir, are despicable! I will do no such thing,” she said with a bravado she didn’t feel.
“Aye, suit yerself. Tiny!” he turned and downed some more grog.
Tiny entered the room.
“Take ‘er back. She can rot in there for all I care.”
Tiny hustled her below deck and threw her back into the cell with Gaston, who thankfully was asleep.
Frederica curled into a ball on the moist floorboards. She had never felt more alone in her life. Laying her head down, she wanted to cry but found she was beyond tears. Instead, she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Chapter Eight
Endless days of monotonous work with only the rolling sea surrounding them for entertainment meant the crew was easily excitable. If Gaston knew anything it was that boredom could overtake a crew of seamen, and a failed mutiny attempt would stir their attention. Even though Gaston’s plot had been foiled in its early stages, the fact that he’d been caught meant there would be a reckoning, and most pirates loved nothing better than a reckoning.
While they may not have been fervent supporters of Humphrey, the crew seemed bloodthirsty. It had been over a month since their last battle, and the men were eager to see some action. They talked of little else. In the short
time he’d been aboard, he’d seen several skirmishes between the men, a clear sign of boredom in the ranks.
That morning, Gaston and Frederica had each been given a bowl of gruel. They washed it down with warm grog before Tiny and his men came for them. Gaston watched helplessly as the men bound Frederica’s wrists behind her, her hair a tangled mess and a streak of dirt smudging her face. Yet, she looked beautiful standing there, holding her head up proudly. Seeing her independence turned into helplessness made him desire her in the worst way. His cock snapped to attention, and he silently cursed the inappropriate timing of the reaction.
Humphrey’s henchmen turned their attention to him, binding his arms with rope as they had hers. Gaston said her name, “Frederica.”
She lifted her chin defiantly and refused to meet his eye. She must still be furious with him, not that it mattered now.
The rope was rough and cut into his wrists as they hauled him and Frederica clumsily above deck. Just as he’d anticipated, every man aboard had gathered to watch Captain Humphrey dispatch the prisoners.
Tiny shoved Frederica towards Captain Humphrey.
“Good morning, wench,” Humphrey said, grabbing Frederica by the nape of the neck.
She remained stoic, her pride choking out other emotions.
“You betrayed me, after all I’ve done for ye.” Humphrey withdrew his sword and brought the tip up to her face, then traced the front of her dress with the blade. “I have half a mind to cut your dress in two and give you over to the crew. See what kind of punishment they’ll be havin’ for ye.”
Frederica’s eyes rounded, but she remained silent. The crowd jeered, cheering the captain’s lewd suggestion.
Humphrey sliced down the front of her dress and her breasts spilled out the top of her corset, which was now visible. Catcalls filled the air, along with demands from unscrupulous pirates wanting to be the first to ravage the captive.
Gaston held his breath. He was upset by Frederica’s betrayal, but he would not relish watching her be raped by a gang such as this. That he’d developed a tenderness for the woman surprised him.
“If anyone should go first, it should be Tiny, he’s the one informed me of her treacherous actions,” Humphrey said.
Groans from the crowd reverberated in his ears, and Gaston’s extremities grew numb. If Tiny had informed the captain… that meant Frederica had not ratted him out after all.
Tiny must have woken up when he had sneaked out of the barracks in the night. The next day the big man probably searched their bunk and found the weapons, and they wouldn’t have been difficult to find. If Tiny had put two and two together, he would have realized Frederica had given him the key.
Inklings of guilt began to nag at Gaston. He’d been wrong to accuse Frederica—and even more wrong to punish her. He didn’t like what that said about him. Gaston considered himself a just man, but he had misjudged her. It vexed him that not only had he failed in taking Humphrey’s ship, but he’d been wrong in his assessment of Frederica. Both were evidence of his shortcomings. And Gaston hated being faced with his shortcomings.
The louder the mob grew, the more frightened Frederica looked, and Gaston’s heart went out to her. He was no stranger to false accusations, and it made him feel like a jackass that he’d been wrong about her. Hoping to find a way to make it up to her, he stared at her, imploring her to return his gaze, but her eyes remained fixed on the stretch of space in front of her.
In light of the recent revelation that Tiny was to blame for his capture, Gaston recognized that the regal girl on trial was not a sophisticate playing both sides against the middle. Rather, she was merely a proud young woman who had been victimized, first by the brute Humphrey and then by himself, on a lesser scale of course. Still, his gut wrenched at the idea he had struck her for no good reason.
Raising his voice above the din, Gaston shouted, “Leave the girl alone, Humphrey! It is me with whom you have a quarrel. She has done nothing.”
Humphrey snickered. “She hasn’t? Ye going to take responsibility for her, are ye mate?”
“Gladly. There’s been a misunderstanding. Mademoiselle Beauchamp is quite loyal to you and your crew. She told me nothing but of the debt she owes you for saving her life.”
Humphrey growled, “Aye. Ye think I’m soft in the head, do ye? I know what she’s been a tellin’ ye. Talkin’ out of school, as it were.” He stuck his face next to Gaston’s ear. “Ye should’ve thought of that before ye tried to ruin me reputation in front of me crew, ye bastard,” he grumbled.
“Let her go,” Gaston quietly insisted.
The captain shook his head and moved back to center stage. “What should we do with these two here traitors, Tiny?” he asked, the verbiage sounding rehearsed.
“We’ve no use for scum like them. Throw ‘em into the sea, Cap’n.”
A roar rose from the crowd. It seemed a popular idea, with the exception of those men who were hoping for a turn with Frederica.
“Give us the girl!” one of them shouted.
“You’re a better man than that, Humphrey. Throw us overboard,” Gaston said.
Frederica’s eyes glassed over. Gaston could see she was frightened, but had withdrawn from the situation out of self-protection. Her perfect lips jutted out in the most enticing pout. Something primal deep inside rose to the surface, an undeniable urge to save her. He would find a way for them to escape—he’d cheated death countless times. Adding a woman to the mix wasn’t likely to change his luck.
Gaston didn’t know why, but he’d always been a survivor, even when lives around him fell like raindrops in a spring shower. He feared it was his cavalier attitude towards death. In his experience, the fates showed an aversion for those who valued their lives highly, whereas bastards like him were spared.
Frederica looked as though a strong wind might knock her over, and Gaston willed her to hold it together.
With a swift flick of his sword, Humphrey cut off a long lock of Frederica’s tangled mane. “Something to remember ye by, lassy.”
He faced the crowd and shouted, “To the sea with ‘em! Let ‘em walk the plank!”
Cheers went up all around, and Gaston said a silent prayer as he and Frederica were hustled to the ship’s edge.
* * *
Frederica heard the captain’s words, but she fought hard to deny them. Being forced overboard was her greatest fear. The monsters that swam below would rip her limb from limb. She feared her heart would stop, and she struggled to find breath.
“No!” she shrieked. “Shoot me instead!” she pleaded.
“You’re not worth the gunpowder,” Humphrey answered and spit at her, the brown juice landing on the hem of her dress. “Haul ‘em to the bow!”
Two men grabbed her and forced her to walk. Their rancid body odor normally would have sent her into a faint, but on this occasion, the stench under her nose actually roused her. She willed herself to resist them, but her body was immobilized with fear and refused to do her bidding. The men carried her forward until the only thing in front of her was a long board set out specifically for her to jump from.
Humphrey brought his face up close with hers, his alcohol soaked breath stinging her eyes. “I wash my hands of ye,” he snarled. “I give you back to the sea from which you came, the sea from which I saved ye. Both of ye ungrateful rakes.”
She’d been so focused on her own plight she’d forgotten about Gaston. Turning to him with the lightest of curiosity, she noticed his eyes rounded as if he were attempting to communicate with her. She shrugged in question. He jerked his head in the direction of the churning water below and nodded as if he were encouraging her.
He wanted her to jump in the water? As if she had any choice in the matter.
Behind her, the crowd waited for her to accept her fate and take her last paces. Never at a loss for words, Gaston asked if the captain could spare a bottle of rum.
The captain gave a harsh laugh. “There’s plenty to drink where ye’ll be a goin�
��!”
The ship sang with glee at the captain’s clever retort.
“I beseech you, captain. You’ve taken my cutlass and my revolver. The least you could do is spare me some drink for my last hours.”
“Toss ‘im a flask. Ee’s been good entertainment,” Humphrey said to the crew.
The deck hand gave him a mocking grin as he tucked a small flask into Gaston’s breast pocket.
“That’ll do then. Off this ship with ye!” Humphrey took Frederica by the shoulder, her hands still tied behind her back.
She focused on the knots in the wood grain embedded in the beam below. Determined to remain firm in her dignity, she placed one foot in front of the other. Her captor need not push her overboard. She held her head proudly and slowly took another step.
“You will burn in hell for this, Captain Humphrey,” she said in a measured tone, then stepped out into thin air.
Chapter Nine
Balling his fists behind him, Gaston felt as impotent as Humphrey when Frederica took her final step. With a soft splash, her body sliced through the sapphire water below.
Pivoting to face the mass of bloodthirsty sailors, Gaston inched slowly backwards. The threat of the ocean didn’t frighten him the way it did most men. He fully expected the sea would claim him one day, and he’d made peace with the idea long ago when he adopted the life of piracy. Plus, this was far from over. He’d escaped worse sentences.
His lips curled into a smile that would befit a king. Conversationally, he said, “You haven’t seen the last of me, Humphrey.” With that, he walked backwards until his feet found no purchase.
The fall was exhilarating, air whooshing against his face until the inevitable crash with the water’s surface. A second later, the ocean engulfed him.
It always amazed him how the initial impact with the water’s surface stunned the body before engulfing it with the fluidity of the water. Resurfacing, he took a moment to absorb the impact’s sting. The voices of the men on board cursing and jeering at them carried on the wind, but Gaston chose to ignore them.
Rescued by the Buccaneer Page 6
