by Lynn Patrick
Caitlin made her way to the starboard rail with a little more confidence. Perhaps sleeping in the fresh air had done her some good, as Lars had assured her it would. At least she didn’t feel sick anymore.
“Look!” Caitlin cried excitedly as she spotted the marine mammals mere yards from the ship. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful as these graceful, sleek gray bodies dipping into and out of the foaming sea swells. “There must be dozens of them.”
“More than likely it’s hundreds, miss.”
“Oh, thank you for waking me, Perry.”
What a fantastic sight, Caitlin thought, watching the chain of dolphins hurriedly stretch away from the ship toward a fog-enshrouded island. The sun hadn’t yet risen over the horizon, and the early morning, tinged in shades of gray, held a dreamlike quality.
“I’ve never seen live dolphins before,” Caitlin told the man as the creatures shrank to moving specks in the distance. “Other than in a marine show, that is.”
“Some days we see whales, especially when we’re around St. Vincent. Now those are some of God’s most awe-inspiring creatures.”
Caitlin looked at the deckhand, who was staring out to sea with a rapt expression. Did a pirate believe in God? Then he couldn’t be all bad…right? As a matter of fact, Perry didn’t seem like a bad man at all. Actually he seemed quite nice. How awful that he’d been forced into a life of crime, she thought, dramatically deciding that the poor man must have been shanghaied by that beast Bryce. She’d read enough pirate novels and had seen enough pirate movies to know that was how captains got their extra crew members.
Just thinking about the captain and how he’d witnessed her humiliation the night before made Caitlin’s stomach quiver. Imagine! She’d retched right on the man’s pant leg. Then again, after thinking about it for a moment, Caitlin decided that had been the least she could do to Bryce as retribution for his kidnapping her, since she’d been unable to poison him or even make his food inedibly hot.
“I’d best get back to work before I get into trouble, miss,” Perry said, bowing his head in a gesture of courtesy.
“Yes, of course,” Caitlin quickly agreed, thinking that Bryce was probably as hard a taskmaster with his men as he was with her. And she was sure he could be cruel if thwarted. “I wouldn’t want you to be flogged because of me.”
Perry gave her an odd look and mumbled something almost indistinguishable before going back to his job. Caitlin had noticed that while the crew spoke perfect Queen’s English to her, they spoke in a much more jumbled, faster version of the language among themselves. That would explain it. She must have confused what she’d thought Perry said about slavery having been abolished long ago in the islands.
Caitlin sighed, looking out at the island they were approaching. The sun rose, and the early-morning fog was clearing even as she watched. What a shame her eyes weren’t free to gaze upon the island’s palm trees and buildings up close.
“Ah, there you are, missy.” Caitlin turned at the sound of Lars’s voice. Only his head stuck out of the companionway opening to the galley. “I made you another mug of my special herbal tea. Teas, bees, peas, please!” he muttered happily as he came out on the deck.
“Thank you, Lars,” Caitlin said, gratefully accepting the mug. “The tea you gave me last night really made my stomach feel much better. That and the Dramamine.”
Lars had been very kind to her the evening before. Caitlin had run down to the kitchen, hoping to hide from Bryce. Once below, her stomach had threatened her again. But the old man had fixed that with his secret brew and medicine and good advice, about staying in the fresh air as much as possible. After forcing her back topside, he’d found the mat for her, then had stayed with her, telling her sea stories until she’d fallen asleep.
If Bryce had been privy to their late-night activities, he hadn’t seen fit to interrupt, so Caitlin didn’t think Lars would get in trouble for helping her. Maybe the captain was superstitious and wouldn’t bother him even if he had seen, because the old man was balmy.
As though thinking about him had conjured the man, the captain stepped out of the chart house and walked to the prow.
“To your posts, men!” he shouted to the hands, who immediately stopped what they were doing. They rushed around the deck, grabbing ropes attached to the masts. “Anselm, turn her now,” Bryce told his mate at the wheel.
Immediately the ship’s prow turned into the wind, and the sails began fluttering wildly from side to side. The Sea Devil slowed.
“What’s going on?” Caitlin asked Lars, raising her voice to be heard above the noise.
“Captain’s dropping sail.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she realized they were quite near the large island. An inhabited island. The Sea Devil was approaching the mouth of a secluded bay. Greenery lushly festooned with multicolored flowers covered the slopes of hills that rose high above the sea. Weather-beaten buildings sat at the edge of the water, guarding both sides of the cove, which was dotted with other watercraft, mostly small sailing yachts.
“Where are we?” she asked breathlessly, aware of the sounds of ropes going through the pulleys and of the increased flapping of the sails as they descended.
“Marigot Bay on the island of St. Lucia. It’s here I get a new supply of brew,” Lars told her gleefully, doing a little jig. “Brew, stew, caribou. No, no, There aren’t any caribou around here.” The old man stopped and scratched his sparse white hair, his wrinkled face reflecting his confusion. “Now, where was I when I had that caribou stew?”
“Lars!” Caitlin said, impatient with the man’s vagaries. “You mean we’re going ashore?”
“We are? Well, then, you should ask the captain to take you to see Soufrière.”
“Who?”
“Soufrière, a real hot number.” But by the time he added, “She’s an active volcano,” Caitlin was already tuning out the old man’s ramblings.
All she could really think of was getting off the ship. She’d better get ready, Caitlin decided, before realizing that she had nothing to prepare. Not wanting the rag that used to be her dress, she guessed she was ready to go clothed as she was, in her borrowed denims and shirt.
“See those twin peaks over there in the distance?” Lars asked, a gnarled finger pointing to the right. “The two pitons? That’s the way.”
That was the way to freedom, Caitlin thought, silently completing the old man’s sentence. The deckhands were hauling in and securing the sails. Surely Bryce would let her go now. Why else would he pull into a cove with her on deck in full sight of anyone on land or on one of the other boats?
“It used to be called the world’s only drive-in volcano,” Lars continued, “but the road’s down, so now you’ve got to walk in. Be careful, though, you wouldn’t want to fall into one of those black pools of bubbling sulfur. They’re hot enough to boil an egg!” Lars cackled, then began to sing, “Hot, spot, step on the dot…”
A screeching metallic sound alerted her to the fact that someone was lowering the anchor. Bryce had stopped the ship at the mouth of the entrance, just at the point where a spit of land acted as a breaker, calming the water. He wasn’t going deep into the natural harbor itself, after all. Caitlin frowned and tried to hold her anxieties at bay. What did that mean? That she would have to swim to land? Unable to think of anything but getting off the ship, she was ready to jump overboard right now, and damn any sharks below!
But the sound of winches startled her out of her thoughts. She turned to see the skiff being lowered.
That was it! Bryce didn’t want to take the chance of going in too far in case she decided to make trouble for him. He could get his ship away from the mouth of the bay quickly.
Generously, Caitlin decided that she wouldn’t bother with bringing the man to justice. He hadn’t actually hurt her, after all. He’d merely threatened her and made her do the most odious work on the ship, she thought indignantly, remembering how she’d been forced to scale
fish. But she didn’t want to hold up her own departure by having to deal with the authorities, anyway. She just wanted to go home.
And so, when Thomas walked down the metal steps that were attached to the ship and got into the skiff, she naturally tried to follow. And just as naturally she was stopped by someone grabbing onto the waistband of her pants.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a gruff voice asked as she was pulled backward.
Off-balance, Caitlin fell against Bryce’s chest. But with more determination than she’d felt since this whole incident started, she gave him what she hoped was a black look and pushed away from him, once more approaching the steps down to the skiff. This time he grabbed her by the upper arm and swung her around to face him.
“I asked you a question.”
Caitlin looked around desperately. Would no one help her? Lars? Raymond? Perry? No, the big brute of a captain had them all cowed! The men merely stared at her with pity in their eyes.
Adrenaline giving her a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Caitlin pulled her arm free. She looked directly into Bryce’s sea-green eyes and shouted, “I’m going to that island, and you can’t stop me!”
Whipping away from him, she heard Bryce mutter, “We’ll see about that.”
This time he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her so that her feet dangled in the air. But Caitlin was single-minded in her purpose, fear a thing of the past. She was not about to give up without a fight. She struck backward with one fist and stuck the nails of her other hand into the arm that pinioned her to him. His surprised gasp of pain gave her confidence, so she kicked backward as hard as she could, catching him in the shin with her heel.
Suddenly Bryce let go, and she dropped to the deck with a thud. On her knees, she scrambled forward, getting only a few feet away before feeling his large, warm hand on her waistband. The sound of ripping material inflamed her anger further. Would he leave her with nothing to wear?
“You rotten beast!” she screamed, rolling over to face him. Bryce was bent forward, trying to haul her up. Furious, Caitlin grabbed on to the front of his shirt, hooked him behind the knee with her foot, and tugged. “You can’t keep me prisoner forever! You, you pirate!”
Another tug and his knee gave. Bryce fell heavily beside her, his shirt ripping this time. Winded, he commanded, “Caitlin, stop this! You can’t win!”
Oblivious to his words, she pummeled him with her fists and kicked him with both feet. When he grabbed her, she pulled away, and they somehow ended up rolling several feet across the deck, stopping with her on the bottom, him on top.
Panting beneath him, Caitlin looked up into Bryce’s face, noting his closed expression, and realized she’d lost. She also realized the men were making curious choking noises. Wildly looking over his right shoulder, she was sure that was a snicker Anselm was trying to cover with his hand. And Lars was laughing gleefully!
The betrayal by her friend brought tears to her eyes, as nothing else could. But she glared up at the bearded man who now seemed highly uncomfortable rather than angry. And, sure that he’d recognized her weakness, Caitlin was furious and determined to make him pay.
“I’ll get even with you, Captain Bryce Winslow, if it’s the last thing I do!”
Her shouted threat was followed by several snorts and hearty coughs. Bryce rose, grasping her by the wrist and pulling her up at the same time. Without another word he dragged her to his cabin, locking the door behind him. After securing the double doors to the rear deck as well, he flung her onto the bunk. Then he pocketed the key and watched her carefully as he slowly stripped off his ripped shirt.
“Since you have so much energy, milady,” Bryce said in a low tone, flashing her a wicked smile, “I’ll have to provide you with an outlet for it.”
Eyes wide, Caitlin backed toward the wall. Surely he wouldn’t take advantage of her with all the men outside, undoubtedly listening for any untoward noises coming from his cabin. She couldn’t tolerate being the source of their amusement in this humiliating way, Caitlin thought, trying not to notice the man’s well-muscled torso, lightly matted with golden brown curls. But her adrenaline had receded, leaving behind a lethargy she couldn’t dispel.
She faced the truth: She was at Bryce Winslow’s mercy.
He stepped closer, almost looming above her. Caitlin couldn’t back up any farther, since she was already pressed up against the cabin’s wall. But when his hand reached out, it wasn’t to grab her.
“You can start by mending this, milady,” he ordered, waving his shirt under her nose. “Since you so graciously ripped it for me.”
Caitlin stared stupidly at the garment for a moment before pulling it from his hand.
“You’ll find a sewing kit in the second drawer from the bottom.” Bryce indicated the drawers built into the wall. “And when I get back, I’m going to make sure you stay so busy that you’ll have neither the time nor the energy to get into more trouble.”
“What are you going to make me do next?” Caitlin asked sarcastically as her courage returned. “Hoist the sails and swab the decks?”
“Now there’s an idea. Maybe when you’re done with those tasks, I could put you on the bilge pump.”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes and said recklessly, “You wait, Bryce Winslow. I’ll get even with you for every mean thing you do to me.”
“That’s the second time you’ve threatened me in less than ten minutes. It will be interesting to see how you plan to carry through.” Still grinning, Bryce took another shirt from his closet and pulled it on. “You’ve got a lot of spirit for a little thing.” Was that actually admiration she heard in his voice? “I can understand what Moreau sees in you, even if you’re no beauty. He’ll be so eager to get you back, he’ll fall right into my hands.”
“Is that why you’ve come to this island?” Caitlin demanded, trying to ignore Bryce’s remark about her not being beautiful. She already knew that, but did the horrible man have to rub it in? “You’re going to send Jean a ransom note?”
“And clever as well,” Bryce added, though he didn’t appear to be surprised. “I won’t underestimate you again.”
He turned to go. Tempted to plead with him to take her with him and leave her on St. Lucia, Caitlin knew it would be useless. She crumpled the shirt and sighed forlornly. Already at the door, Bryce glanced at her quickly. He hesitated, his expression uncertain. Then, shaking his head, he unlocked it and quickly stepped outside. Caitlin heard the key being inserted, and turned, leaving her prisoner once more.
Stubbornly she threw down the shirt—Caitlin was determined that she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of mending it—and stared out the window. But while watching the skiff as it noisily headed straight into the center of the bay, she had second thoughts about doing as he’d commanded. She was already hungry, and she wouldn’t put it past the black-hearted beast to let her starve!
And even as she fetched the sewing kit she knew she was probably exaggerating again. The man had made lots of threats, but he hadn’t actually done anything to hurt her, not even while he was trying to subdue her on deck. Threading a needle, Caitlin hoped she’d hurt him in a few places, punching and kicking him as she had. She’d get immense satisfaction at seeing the bruises.
Thinking about being around the man when he was without clothes, however, brought a hot blush to her face. And in the middle of a neat row of stitches Caitlin pricked herself with the needle. A bright spot of red contrasted vividly against the white material. What was wrong with her? she wondered, taking the shirt straight to the sink in the head and rinsing he blood off before it set. She certainly couldn’t still be attracted to the man, for heaven’s sake! Especially not after that crack about her lack of beauty. And he was always saying she was skinny!
Caitlin warily inspected herself in the mirror above the sink. She wasn’t that bad to look at. She’d been told by more than one man that her rounded pale blue eyes were lovely. Well, maybe Bryce hadn’t been able to see her
eyes when he’d made that comment. And right now, hair tangled and grubby, dirt smeared on her cheek, she did look pretty awful. But a shower and shampoo would help.
She might as well make herself at home and take advantage of the cabin’s amenities, she decided. She. needed to mend the waistband of her pants where he’d ripped them, anyway.
That settled, Caitlin stripped and showered, all the while amusing herself by plotting ways she could get even with the man. Her favorite fantasy was turning the crew against him and convincing them to mutiny. What a deliciously wicked idea! Then she could order him to walk the plank!
Energized by the shower, it took Caitlin only a few minutes to finish mending Bryce’s shirt, and a few more to fix her denims. She’d barely gotten dressed when she heard a key in the door. Caitlin frowned, wondering why he’d come back so soon. She hadn’t even heard the outboard motor of the skiff. But it wasn’t the captain who opened the door.
“Are you rested yet, missy?” Lars asked. “There’s work to do, fishes to clean.”
“You mean the captain is actually allowing me out of his cabin?” Caitlin asked sarcastically, glaring at the traitorous old man. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d laughed when Bryce had bested her.
Low Tide Lars appeared confused. “Why’d you think he’d want to keep you locked up? The captain doesn’t have to force pretty women to stay in his cabin, though sometimes he has to lock the door to keep ’em out.”
“Then why did he lock the door?”
While Lars thought about that the cat strolled in and jumped on the bunk. The old man smiled and said, “So’s you could rest for a while without being disturbed. He didn’t want Calico Jack to come in and pounce on you.” The old man’s tone was conspiratorial when he added, “Old Jack knows how to open doors, he does. That’s why he wears those little gloves with claws.”
Sighing, Caitlin shook her head. The old man really was balmy. And obviously he didn’t understand what had gone on earlier. Certainly it would be a waste of her breath if she tried to explain.
