by Andrea Jones
He must have kept the rapier with him as he worked in the spare cabin, for that was where it was found. Right across the charts at the top of the desk. Smee’s heart quailed as he recalled the rest…the coat languishing outside that cabin, snared by a splinter— a splinter…that had no cause to be where it was! A gouge inflicted by a sharp instrument, just such a tool as Smee now held in his hands. As bo’sun, it was Smee’s job to husband the Roger. She’d have told him, if he’d taken the time to inspect her wound. Indulging his grief, Smee hadn’t thought it through before. Now the vision of the coat came rushing home, the crimson cloth flailing from a gash in the stern. The wooden stern, coated with salty moisture. Like this sword!
Smee’s stomach careened. He broke out in a cold sweat. The captain’s coat had been hung there to be found. Hook’s own weapon had pried up the splinter. Someone arranged the scene to look as if Hook had drowned.
And most likely it was true. Chances were, Captain Hook was dead.
Avoiding the thought, Smee’s mind jumped ahead to sort the possibilities. Who would benefit from the captain’s disappearance? The obvious answer was the doctor. He wanted Jill. He wanted his freedom. Hook, alive, would grant him neither.
But the lady kept the doctor occupied that morning. He was too entangled in her charms to leave her side. And, thank the Powers, the man was no better off now that the captain was gone.
Reluctantly, Smee considered more treacherous possibilities. Who, upon Hook’s demise, in actuality reaped the benefits? Who seized Hook’s power, Hook’s place, Hook’s woman? Established his friends as officers, had every man aboard, including the surgeon, calling him ‘Captain?’ He matched Hook in cunning, embellished Hook’s schemes. He’d stowed a pouchful of diamonds in his sea chest, and due to his inheritance from Hook, enjoyed the companionship— no, the adoration— of the most desirable woman on the Seven Seas.
The gypsy.
But one man alone couldn’t keep Jill from power. Two worked in tandem to thwart her. Perhaps they had conspired further, to take Hook down, as well. The doctor and the Italian had forged a friendship. Both were manipulators. Both experienced swordsmen. Each knew better than to sheath a soiled weapon.
One of them had been in a hurry.
Smee raised the rapier and let the lanternlight play up and down its length. No trace of blood smeared the blade. Hook hadn’t been offered a fight. No. The sea had killed him. His beloved sea.
Through a wave of nausea, Smee finished the job and set the sword to hand. He would keep it close. It would never leave his side. Once Smee learned the truth, he would use it.
No matter how the lady begged for her lover’s life, Smee would act. Those who abused Hook’s trust would die. Like his master before him, Smee would show no mercy.
And then he’d plant his boots beneath her bed.
§ § §
Liza awakened to a sweet taste. A strawberry. But it was soft and moist, and when her tongue reached for it, a set of firm lips pressed down on hers, and the taste invaded her mouth. She came fully awake.
It was a kiss! The kind of kiss she had witnessed and hungered for. Her eyes opened to take in the glorious sight of black brows and blue— the bluest eyes! The captain.
His flavor lingered, and when her hands tried to reach for him she discovered he had trapped them, one in his own, one under his body. The kiss died and Hook pulled away, but only an inch. He whispered without sound. “Be silent.”
With her heart thumping in her chest, she nodded. He kissed her again, thoroughly, and raising his chest from hers, he leaned on his elbow. He released her hand so that his could caress her, exploring slowly at the edge of his bonds, up her side and coming to rest on her breast. His hand left a pleasant tickling sensation in his wake. Liza felt her flesh break out in goosebumps. She also felt the heavy links he dragged, cold even through their wrappings. He lowered himself down on her, and his chain bit into her skin.
“I cannot satisfy your wishes until I am free.” His voice made barely a sound, but she heard him. Wincing from the harsh embrace of the metal, she shook her head.
He pressed himself onto her, and the links pained his ribs as well. “The key, love.”
She opened her lips as if to speak, her eyes questioning. He covered her mouth again with his own. She endured the chain’s discomfort, and only when she whimpered with pain did he end the kiss. “You will fetch it for me.” His gaze roamed her face before he rolled to the side. As his eyes, impatient, appreciated her body, she sighed in relief and reached for his hand, to place it on her breast again. He permitted it. His fingers tingled on her nipple as, idly, he stroked her. Liza placed one open hand on her lips and gestured away from them, asking once more if she might use words.
He favored her with his beautiful smile. “Clever girl, to keep silence. You may speak, but take care not to wake your father.”
“Sir. Make me your mistress…first.”
“Ah. My mistress, yes. But a mistress must obey her master.”
“I will obey, Sir. It is my wish to obey.” The blood was pounding in her head now, and within her thighs. As if he knew it, he rewarded her with a touch there. With his handless wrist. She shivered.
“Good girl. Now, my little one, set your master free.”
“Master, I will do everything in my power to please you. But I cannot find the key.”
In an instant, the pleasure on his face turned to ice. His touch abandoned her. “Did I hear you aright? You deny my first demand?”
“Sir!”
“Search the cabin.”
Too afraid of the fire of his eye to protest, Liza turned away and slithered from the bunk. Under his watchful gaze she hunted through her father’s effects— within his medicine bag, through the drawers, the pockets of his empty clothing, his sea chest. Glancing at the dark man brooding behind her bed curtain, Liza warmed to know she was naked and under his scrutiny. She was sure her movements pleased him. Although her search was fruitless, his observation was fertile, and Liza herself was more than ready to harvest its rewards.
Continuing the deception that her father might wake at any moment, she moved in silence, and, as drugged as his prisoner had been, the surgeon never stirred. Liza’s search went on. She startled when Hook tossed a bundle of white to the floor. Puzzled, she seized it and looked to him. With a shrewd expression, he gestured to her to don it. She blushed in the lanternlight. He had discovered her thievery! She slipped his stolen shirt on, shoved the sleeves above her elbows, and resumed her quest.
When at length she satisfied her captain that the key was unattainable, he summoned, and she bowed her head and pulled herself up to her bed. Sliding under the bedclothes, she pressed against him. If he was heated by anger, so much the better. His passion would be ignited, her rite of passage more intense than she had dreamed. Steeling herself, she reached for him. He allowed her touch, allowed her hands to roam his body, to slide within his shirt, to discover his desire, to provoke her own— then he stopped her fingers and squeezed her wrist through his own purloined cuff. His eyes smoldered with his fury.
“You aspire to be my mistress. Yet you displease me.” His grip on her wrist seared through the fabric. “Here is your reward for disobedience. A punishment that will leave no marks.” He flung her hand away, his silent chain swinging, and with a sneer, her lord and master turned his back and faced the wall.
Searching the darkness for his soul, Hook determined that Jill slept. With the taste of strawberry bitter in his throat, he closed his eyes to sleep likewise, his displeasure rekindling with a vision of his mermaid reclining in his bo’sun’s embrace.
Time after time, Liza attempted to raise her arms to him. Remembering the flame of his eye, she felt her courage fail. Not daring to move, she counted the pulses of her blood where it beat between her legs. She felt the flush of her skin, the heat rising within her, like smoke off a branding iron— no, not an iron, but a hook, red-hot and glowing, its smoke sharp, too, swirling and surging. The s
moke seemed trapped inside of her, suffocating. The night became a long dark space the shape of a casket, charred to black with his brand and filled with that smoke. It was a night in which thinking was impossible. If he questioned her now, even if he threatened her flesh with his flaming hook, she would not be able to recall that his keys lay wrapped in a bundle, stuffed in the muzzle of the third cannon just outside her door. Her mind, like her body, was void.
He hadn’t taken her. He hadn’t affirmed her. He had not so much as scorched her with his mark.
Disappointment was her master, and he was cruel.
§ § §
“Doctor. The lady, as promised.” Yulunga relinquished the lady’s arm; she thanked him. He grinned his wide grin and backed halfway down the forecastle steps, to take up a lounging position while he observed the encounter. The morning was fine and bright, and Yulunga was liking his new job. Working for Captain Cecco proved both profitable and entertaining. The lady, too, appeared to appreciate it. In a gown of sapphire-blue and bedecked with Cecco’s gold, she faced the surgeon with every sign of assurance. The doctor, tailored in his beige suit, looked slightly reduced without his diamond lining. But as his eyes slid from Yulunga to Jill, he recovered his aplomb.
“Madam. The captain granted this meeting so that I may apologize to you.” Forbearing to touch the lady, he indicated the forward rail, and, assuring herself of Yulunga’s vigilance first, she complied. Surely this man couldn’t hurt her again. It seemed to Jill he had already done his damage. In any case, Cecco’s protection held her safe now. Still, she held her tongue. She was mindful of the captain’s commands, yet headstrong enough not to make this assignation easy for Hanover, whatever he had to say.
Hanover strolled to the bow, as far from Cecco’s mate as the forecastle allowed, then kept his back to him. The breeze from behind beat against their legs and blew the sound of their voices away from the mate. “I understand your reluctance to speak to me. No doubt you are ashamed.”
Jill raised her eyebrows.
“And of course you are afraid to cross the captain’s will. While I am not afraid, I assure you I will do nothing to endanger you.”
Jill lifted her eyes to the sky. Captain Cecco was correct. The surgeon’s arrogance sustained him.
“And I do apologize. Sincerely. I admit I miscalculated when I threw my support behind the captain. He played on my trust, and used it against me.”
“And you are surprised.”
Hanover blinked. “If you venture to speak to me, kindly do so in a more respectful manner.”
Too shocked to retort, Jill stared at him, her wide eyes narrowing. Hanover took her silence for acquiescence.
“I have offered my apology. Now I will tell you that in spite of your licentious behavior, my desire for you has not abated.”
Jill replied, “As I told you from the beginning, Doctor Hanover, I make the best of the circumstances in which I find myself. Captain Cecco is a worthy partner. You must know I will answer every question he puts to me about our meeting. Beware of abusing his good will.”
“Yes, he has impressed upon me the extremes of your honesty. As you yourself have done. But again, I fear nothing— except your suffering. I will alleviate that suffering in any way I can.”
Implementing her strategy, Jill softened her gaze. “Thank you, Sir. Since you endeavor to make amends, I do have one favor to ask of you.”
The surgeon seized upon the opening. “Please. You have only to ask.”
Permitting herself a fraction of a smile, Jill cast her gaze down. “It seems I will soon require another vial of your sleeping draught.”
The doctor sent a quick glance toward Yulunga, then turned his face from the mate to smile. Certain now of his success, his features showed themselves to best advantage; he was comfortable. “My darling! Of course. You shall have it before another night sets in.”
“I am grateful. And now we’d best return to Mr. Yulunga—”
“Not yet. You will hear me out. Another such chance may prove rare.”
“A chance for what, Doctor? Captain Cecco made his orders clear. The life you and I might have shared is now impossible.”
“You know me better than to believe that. I have pledged to make an honest woman of you. I will keep my word.”
“But how—”
“You will know nothing of the details. I will arrange everything. Only trust me.”
“Trust you! It was you who ‘arranged’ my union with Captain Cecco.”
“And it is I who will separate you.”
“No.”
“My dear, do not let your disappointment obstruct our future. I will carry through with my promise.”
“I won’t say I am disappointed with Captain Cecco. It’s just that I can hardly bear the fact that Hook is—” Without effort, her eyes flooded with tears. She turned to the sea. The stair groaned as Yulunga stirred, raising himself up to observe. Hanover backed a pace, but his voice grew urgent.
“Jill.” As she flinched at this familiarity, his fingers searched for his watch. “The captain forbids it, I know, but I will call you my Jill. You shall find it necessary to come with me.”
“Why? You can’t tempt me with your diamonds any longer.”
“You speak out of bitterness. But I shall regain my fortune. You will obtain it for me.”
“I?” she asked, incredulous.
“Listen. When I leave the ship, under whatever circumstances I create, you will choose to accompany me.”
“Why should I not choose to remain with Captain Cecco? And your diamonds?”
“Because after LeCorbeau unites us in marriage, I will tell you where Hook has gone.”
It was the one thing she hadn’t expected. Backed against the rail, pressed tight against the braces, Jill faltered, assaulted by emotion— hope, alarm, despair.
Hanover had placed himself between Jill and Yulunga, blocking her shock from view. “I would hold you if I could. You know I cannot. Not yet.”
“Where is he?” The panic surged from her closing throat. “Where?”
“Ah, now I stir your interest! I knew I would recapture you.”
Yulunga angled his head, and Jill modulated her voice. “Don’t toy with me. Tell me where Hook is!”
“All in good time. When we are aboard L’Ormonde— and wed.”
“I’ll tell the captain. He’ll thrash it out of you.”
“Do you think so? I don’t believe he’ll welcome tidings of his old master. Think what he’d lose in the bargain.” Hanover had learned a thing or two from his partner. LeCorbeau couldn’t have said it better. “One word to the wrong party, and I will lose my memory. No, Jill, you will tell no one. And you will come to me, with my treasure, when I bid you.”
“He’s alive, then?”
Hanover shook his head slowly, backing away. “You will know what I know when you are mine. Oh, yes— and see that you greet me appropriately when I come calling. You will welcome your future husband…with open arms.” He bowed, turned toward Yulunga, and strode away.
Jill clung to the railing. Her heart threatened to batter its way out of her ribcage, but it couldn’t escape. However agitated, Jill’s heart was trapped, as surely as its lady.
She had believed the battle was over, that she was safe in Cecco’s care. But the handsome doctor, the wealthy pirate surgeon, found her weakness as easily as her pulse, and in his practiced hands, she was a prisoner.
Chapter 22
Dreams Come True
“Well, Mr. Yulunga! And where is my good friend Hook? The captain is engaged, no doubt, with his so-charming mistress.” LeCorbeau tapped his foot, his beady eyes observing the company as he waited to be greeted by the Roger’s master. Mr. Smee and Mr. Mullins flanked Yulunga, and crewmen lined the deck. The surgeon stood in attendance, formal, as befitting the occasion. Nibs and Tom were nowhere in sight.
Yulunga towered over the Frenchman, beaming. “Of course. But he will attend you—” As the door to the c
aptain’s quarters swung open, Yulunga looked up. “Now.” LeCorbeau and his mates turned expectant faces toward the companionway, ready to humor Captain Hook’s flair for the dramatic.
Hook’s lady emerged, smiling her greetings. She was escorted by a man. A dark man and handsome, but otherwise very unlike the captain his guests expected to greet. The Roger’s visitors dropped their jaws as they observed the pair.
Cecco’s arm encircled Jill’s waist. He descended the steps of the companionway with an air of entitlement, touching Hook’s woman with every indication of possession. That this man was her lover, her master, and her captain, appeared indisputable. But where was Hook?
Taken aback, LeCorbeau watched in silence as the couple strolled toward him. Raising his eyebrows, he said at last, “Alors…I am amazed, Monsieur! But what have you done with the elegant Captain Hook, who for so long has dominated the Roger? Surely, you have not vanquished him in some duel over the fair one?” Yet both the admiration and the amusement in LeCorbeau’s voice showed that he believed this circumstance to be exactly what had happened. He could read the triumph in Mr. Cecco’s eyes, and the passion, as the Italian looked at the woman. The eyes of Hook’s man, Mr. Smee, also smoldered, but with discontent. As LeCorbeau ascertained earlier, the woman’s sons were conspicuous in their absence. With utmost restraint, the French captain refrained from turning a questioning gaze on the surgeon, who he was certain must have had a hand in this miracle. A hand! No, a hook! LeCorbeau stifled his humor. His hopes were on the rise as Cecco answered.
“Surely you cannot believe me guilty of mutiny, Captain LeCorbeau. Only an unfortunate event could gift me with the good fortune I now enjoy.” Cecco directed Yulunga with a look, and his first mate took up his cue.
