by Sabrina York
And worse, there was nothing he could do to save her.
He’d tried the door, beat on it and scratched at the lock until his fingers were bloody, but it was secure. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Though he had never amounted to much in his life, he’d never really felt a failure. Until now. Now it seeped into him and through him, soaking him with a sense of worthlessness. Never before had he felt so powerless. Never before had he felt such bone-deep remorse.
Sophia was the love of his life, the everything of his life, and he was unable to keep her safe.
He felt great guilt over Percy as well. His friend could be dead by now for all he knew. Percy had come on this adventure only because Ned had asked.
Adventure! Hah! Disaster was more fitting.
He hardly cared what happened to him. He would do anything to save the others. Sophia most specifically. He settled onto the mattress, though his belly roiled at the thought of what vermin might be living in it, and tried to rest. He could do nothing for anyone if he was exhausted.
When they came to bring him food—if they came to bring him food—he intended to rush the guard and escape. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he was free but it had to be better than this.
It was hours before anyone came, and then when they did it was not what he expected. His heart lurched as the door swung open. He leaped to his feet, primed to pounce. But it was not a burly pirate holding his tray. It was a slender cabin boy with a ragged haircut.
His breath stalled. Sophia!
He bit his tongue before her name could escape. His gaze raked over her, searching for any signs of injury or abuse. He saw none, save a red chafing about her wrists.
“Hullo, Ned,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
No.
Without waiting for his response, she smiled over her shoulder—at the burly pirate—and chirped, “I’ll just be a minute.”
The guard grunted and leaned against the wall, picking his teeth.
She knelt before him and fiddled with the plates on the tray. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I’m fine. How are you?”
Her brave smile nearly broke his heart. “I’m fine.”
“The pirates—”
“They’re taking us to a place called Dragon’s Breath, some island off the French coast where they have their base.”
“And the others?” His pulse thudded.
“All safe.”
“Percy?”
“He’s fine. They’re being held below. Not even tied up. Except Lady Prudence. She’s gagged.” She set one plate and then another before him. “They’re really not so bad, Ned.”
“Not so bad?”
“For pirates.”
“We need to escape. Somehow, we need to escape.”
She grinned. He gaped at her. A grin? In the direst of predicaments? “I’m working on it.” Good gad. That did not reassure him.
“Sophia, I am frightened to death for you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
But she wouldn’t be. Not if they found out—
“Boy!” the guard called, and she nodded.
“We’re distantly related through marriage, if anyone asks,” she murmured as she lifted her tray. And then, with one lingering look at him, she was gone.
Ned couldn’t bear to eat. Couldn’t stomach any food. But he forced himself to. He forced himself to find it—the room was rather dark, after all—and then he ate.
He needed his strength.
God help him, he needed to save her if he could.
* * * * *
It wasn’t so terrible serving Captain Marquee, Sophia found. He wasn’t very demanding and he let her take the meals to the captives—including Ned. It was wonderful to see him when she did but she worried about him there alone in that dark room. She tried to convince Marquee to move him in with the others but he just laughed.
As the days passed, the other pirates came to accept her as a fixture on the ship. She even had several scintillating conversations with a couple of them over whisky and beef. They shared the tales of their service in the war with Marquee, and their adventures after joining him on this ship. She was stunned to learn that they, and many other sailors like them, had had to resort to piracy after returning home from fighting Napoleon.
It hardly seemed fair.
But they enjoyed their lives and, had things been different, Sophia might have enjoyed such a life as well. It was magnificent being on the sea. It was tremendous to be able to do as she liked. No one told her to sit up or be still or cautioned her not to eat cakes. She scrambled in the riggings with the other tars and helped swab the decks and feed the chickens.
If it weren’t for fear of what would become of Ned, it would have been the perfect adventure.
As the pirates came to trust her, they let her take Ned his meals without an escort and she was able to stay with him longer. They didn’t talk much and they certainly didn’t kiss—oh, how she missed his kisses—but they could be together. Occasionally he would hold her hand and stroke her with his thumb.
Always, ever, she thought of escape.
But they were on a ship. In the middle of an ocean. Short of inciting a battle wherein she took this ship, she couldn’t come up with a viable plan. They towed the ship they’d been on behind them, though the captain had left a few of his men to manage the steering and what was left of the sails. But from this distance, Sophia could tell the ship was far too damaged to be of any use in an escape.
One morning she awoke to the sight of land off the starboard. A tremendous relief swelled within her breast as a plan formed. She waited until the evening meal, until the pirates were all deep in their cups, and she took Ned his supper.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” she whispered. “When it’s full dark, come up to the deck. We can slip over the side and swim ashore.”
He frowned at her, his throat working. “But what of the others?”
She stared at him through the shadows. “You want to rescue them as well?”
“We should.”
“We have more chance on our own.”
He nodded. Riffled his hair. “I can’t leave Percy.”
Of course not. Not Ned. So brave and loyal. He would risk all for his friend. She did love that about him. “All right.” She nodded. “I’ll wait for you in the galley. It’s just down the hall.”
Her nerves hummed as she helped Marquee prepare for bed, as she did each night. And then she crawled into the hammock in the corner where she slept and lay there, comforted by the rocking lull of the boat, until she heard his snore. Then, silently, she dropped to the floor and slipped from the room.
Her heart thrummed in her throat as she crept back to the galley to wait for Ned. The night was still, with only the creak of the boat and the occasional call of one pirate to another, or a muffled snore. There was no moon but she could see the shadowy hump of land in the distance.
It was a long way to swim, and with so many, she worried they would not all make it.
“Psst.”
She jumped and whirled to find Ned behind her. His teeth gleamed as he grinned. She could see in his eyes the glory of being free. She couldn’t imagine being locked up as he had.
Together, hunkering low, they slunk across the deck to the forecastle, which was the entrance to the holds below. She led him deeper, to the bottom deck, where the others were held. The two guards posted by the door were insensate, mouths agape and drooling.
Sophia shot Ned a smile. She’d given them double rations of rum with their dinner. Carefully, she lifted the key from the larger one’s belt. He snuffled and grunted but did not awake.
Holding her breath, she set the key in the lock and turned it. The grate made her wince. It seemed so loud. But still, the guards did not stir. Ned eased through the door. Sophia heard rustling as he roused the captives and then, one by one, they crept past the guards and up the stairs to freedom. Sophia held her finger to her lips, though she
needn’t have. The men all seemed to know what was up.
Lady Billingsly was another matter.
Sophia winced at a thud and her subsequent squawk.
“Shhh.” A hiss echoed through the hold.
“I’m shushing, dear man. For pity sake—” Her sharp voice stopped abruptly as though something had stoppered her mouth.
When Lady Billingsly emerged, Sophia realized that something was MacDougal’s hand. He guided her past the guards and out of sight. Ned and Percy came last.
With a great sigh of relief, Sophia followed them up on deck.
There was still the matter of slipping into the water—no fewer than twenty of them—without being spotted, but she was certain if they were crafty and quiet, they could manage.
She emerged from the lower deck with a smile on her face.
It quickly wilted.
All the men—and the woman—she had just saved were clustered in a knot, surrounded by glowering pirates and held in place by the points of numerous gleaming cutlasses.
Marquee stood to the side, his fists on his hips. When his gaze fell on her, his features tightened. His frown was terrifying but his tone was light when he tsked and said, “Andrew, my boy. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.”
She resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips and frown right back.
Damn and blast.
It had been a good plan. It had been.
“Right, all of you, back down.” Marquee waved toward the door to the hold. The pirates herded them back down to their prison, but as she made to follow them, Marquee caught her arm. “Not you, my boy.”
“What?”
“Or you.” His eyes narrowed on Ned. “Take these two back to the brig,” he said. “And lock them up together. Clearly they’re troublemakers.” He waggled a finger at Sophia. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow, young man.”
The men around him chuckled, sending a shiver of dread down Sophia’s spine.
At her side, Ned bristled, his expression fierce, but Sophia put her hand on his arm. She knew, at this point if Ned made a fuss, things would only get worse.
As four burly guards dragged them back across the deck to the brig, Sophia gazed out at the shadow of land on the horizon.
The shadow of hope, lost.
Chapter Nine
The heavy door closed on them like a death knell. Ned winced and raked his hair.
Hell and damnation. Not only had their plot not worked—likely the pirates had been expecting it—now Sophia was confined in this rathole as well.
It was little comfort that now he knew—knew—she was safe. Judging from the pirate captain’s expression and his menacing threat, she was in grave danger of reprisal on the morrow. Who knew how the pirate would respond to their botched attempt at escape?
Fear for Sophia lanced him. As sharp as his fear had been over the past few days, it was nothing compared to this terror.
All he knew was he would do anything, whatever it took, to protect her from Marquee’s wrath. Even if it meant his life.
For without her, he was nothing.
He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She melted against him, wrapping herself around him and clinging like a limpet.
“I’m so sorry, Ned,” she said with a snuffle, and he realized she was crying. He bent his head and kissed her tears away.
“None of that. It’s probably for the best.”
“What?” A squeak.
“We likely wouldn’t have made it,” Ned said by way of cheering her up. It had been a long way to the shore. “Doubtless Lady Billingsly would have sunk like a stone.”
It heartened him to hear her laugh. “No servants to swim for her,” she murmured.
He forced a chuckle as well, but only to soothe her. She was trembling so he led her to the pallet and eased her down. It mortified him, the thought of delicate Sophia on such a foul bed, but it was all there was. He leaned against the wall and settled her against his chest. It felt so magnificent, holding her again. He rubbed her arm.
“Blast,” she said. “I really thought we had it.”
He nodded. “It was a wonderful escape plan.”
She laughed. “Which is it, Ned? A good plan or a terrible one?”
He didn’t answer but pulled her closer. They sat for some time in silence, cloaked in darkness. When a shiver walked through her, he kissed her forehead. “Are you cold?” He wasn’t. The room was stuffy and closed. It always was.
“No.” Such a tiny voice. He knew something was weighing on her.
“What is it then?”
“I’m thinking…”
“Mmm?”
“About tomorrow…”
Ah yes. He was thinking about it too.
“What do you think they’ll do to me?” A shudder.
“I don’t know. But I’ll be there. I’ll protect you.”
“Oh Ned, you mustn’t. You mustn’t interfere. No matter what they do. Promise.”
He stiffened. “I will not.”
She peered up at him. It was dark; he couldn’t see it, but he could feel her glare. “Which is it? You will not interfere or you will not promise?”
He sighed. “I will not promise.”
“Ned Wyeth! I cannot allow you to be hurt. Not for me. I’m not worth your life.”
“Sophia, darling.” He cupped her cheeks, found her mouth for a quick kiss. “You are. You are…everything.”
She stiffened in his arms. “What did you say?”
Oh hell, what was the point of keeping it from her now? Now, when all the old rules and all the old restrictions had fallen away? It was only the two of them in the room, in the world, in the universe. No one else mattered. Nothing else mattered.
“You are everything. To me. Sophia. Don’t you know it?”
Her breath washed over him as she gusted a sigh. “No. I don’t… I mean, I thought you didn’t like me at all. Well, except for that bit in the bunk.”
His chuckle was harsh. Ah, those blissful days in the bunk during a ravaging storm. What he wouldn’t give to have them back. “I like you. I like you very much. I always have.”
“But you pushed me away. You called me a pest.”
Hell. Yes. He had. “I didn’t have a choice, darling.”
“You-you didn’t have a choice?”
“Your brother. My brother.”
“What did Ewan do?” she growled.
“He saw us kissing, Sophia.”
“He did?”
“He called me on the carpet for it. He and Edward. I told them I wanted to court you—”
“You wanted to court me?” It was distracting the way she cuddled closer. The way her hand skimmed over his chest.
“God, yes. Ewan threw a fit. He went red in the face and started blathering about dukes and titles until his hair stood on end. They told me I was never to touch you, never to talk to you, never to see you again.”
“Fuck!”
“Sophia Fiona St. Andrews! Where did you hear that word?”
“From one of the pirates. And from Ewan. He uses it a lot. What does it mean?”
“I…ah…it means many things.” Lord. He couldn’t explain it now. Not at the moment. Her warmth, her weight against him, had lurid thoughts stirring.
“Such as?”
“It means you’re not pleased with your brother.”
“I am not. Ned, just think how much time we’ve wasted.”
His heart stuttered. “Wasted?”
“I would have loved for you to woo me.” She tucked her head beneath his chin. “We could have…” She didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t mind. He finished it for her. They could have.
Something damp landed on his shirt and soaked through. Another. And another.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
But she was. He tipped up her chin and thumbed her tears. “Why are you crying?”
“B-because n-now I’ll never k-know.”
He didn’t
need to ask to what she referred.
“B-because t-tomorrow I will be p-punished. Either k-killed or worse if they find out who, what, I am. And Ned, I so don’t want my first time to be at the hands of a p-pirate.” She swallowed with a gulp. “Though M-marquee is somewhat h-handsome, I suppose.”
Something very like rage rippled through him. “Handsome?”
“F-for a pirate. Still, I would much rather it had been you.”
God.
Everything that had gone before, all his restraint, his loyalty, his gentlemanly principles, were swept away by a keening lust. No, not lust. Desire. Adoration. Love.
“Sophia.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her. “It’s not too late.” He hated that it was here, on this filthy mattress in a foul-smelling prison. She deserved better.
She deserved better than to lose her innocence to a depraved pirate as well.
He couldn’t do much for her in these dire straits, but he could do this.
And God help him, he wanted to.
If Marquee’s plans were what Ned suspected, tonight would be his last on this earth.
He couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than in the arms of the woman he loved.
At the touch of Ned’s lips, everything else wafted away. Her misery, the stench of this horrible little room. Her fears for tomorrow and her fears of the past. He cared for her. He’d wanted to woo her. That alone sent joy trilling through her. Damn Ewan for interfering.
But no, she wouldn’t think of her brother now.
Right now there was only Ned. Only this moment. She would hold this memory in her heart as long as she lived. Though it might only be a day.
His kiss was savage, raw, hungry, and she met him full force. She wanted this, craved this. Needed this.
He eased her back on the pallet and nestled at her side, never breaking contact. He held her chin as he ravaged her mouth, but then his fingers drifted lower to caress her neck, her shoulder, her breast. His thumb scraped over her nipple and she moaned. Thusly encouraged, he nudged it again and then drew agonizing circles around it.
She wiggled impatiently. “Ned.”
“Hush, darling.” A whisper. “We don’t want them to hear.”
An unholy excitement raged through her. Not just because finally, finally, they would be together, but because it must be a secret mating. Determinedly, she clamped her lips shut.
