Eden's Pass

by Kimberly Nee

“Punish me?” she gasped, pressing her free hand against her belly as she gaped at him. “How did I offend you by pretending to be a lad? How did I do you harm? I did it to protect myself. And it worked, as I managed to keep myself from becoming a plaything to you and your entire blasted crew!”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you certain that is what would have happened? Know me so well, do you?”

  “I do,” she spat.

  “Think again, my lady.” His voice was tight, almost sparking with anger. “No man aboard my ship commits rape, myself included. Any man fool enough to try is sentenced to death. Had your gender been discovered by anyone other than myself, you’d see for yourself.”

  She snorted at his words. “And you expect me to believe this?”

  “Ask any man aboard this ship, Finn. Rape is an unforgivable sin on this vessel. No woman will be abused as long as I am at the helm. And that would have included you. It still does. Any man who thinks to lay a hand upon you will pay with his life. Why do you think Honoria is allowed to freely move about?”

  She snapped, “As if I cared about Honoria.”

  “Is that so?” His grin was infuriatingly smug. “Jealousy does not become you, Finn. Not a whit.”

  “I am not jealous.” She shrugged as if it was the maddest notion ever uttered. Besides, it was the maddest notion. It had to be. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  Still, she answered too quickly, and she winced as Iñigo laughed. “Of course not.”

  His silky laughter ignited her temper once more and icy fury poured into her. “You are a beast, Iñigo Sebastiano! I wish more than anything I had not surrendered to you. I wish I had taken the chance of running you through!”

  “I’ll wager you do, Finn. But the past cannot be undone now, can it? Yet another defeat at my hands. You must be acclimating yourself well to the notion.”

  “Bastard!” She wanted to strike, wanted to cut him down, but couldn’t make her arm move. “I despise you, you cowardly Spaniard, and I promise you, I will dispatch you but good. If it is the last thing I do on this earth, I will see it done! I cannot be rid of you fast enough.”

  He shook his head as he moved to the door, not at all threatened by her. “And believe me, lady, the feeling is more than mutual, as I rue the day I ever decided to take on the Smiling Jack and take revenge on that fool Beauregard!”

  He yanked open the door, turning to throw over his shoulder, “As to dispatching me, Finn, I will gladly face you any time, any place. Should you ever have the courage needed to challenge me, that is.”

  He didn’t wait for her response, but slammed out of the cabin, leaving her to puzzle over his cryptic remark about revenge and Beauregard. She shoved it from her mind as her temper erupted over at his insult, sending the rage burning through her. “Challenge you, you say?” she sputtered, slicing at the air, able to move once more as she glared at the closed door. “I will show you challenge, pirate. And I care not if my blood spills.”

  Lifting the leather baldric from the open drawer, she dropped it over her head and slid her steel into it. “It was my mistake, not doing this sooner, but that will be rectified at once.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Her heart beat wildly against her ribs as she eased around the door to step into the shadowy corridor. Flames flickered in small glass orbs mounted along the walls, casting long shadows dancing along the polished wood. Wood and sea air mingled in a tangy perfume, which normally she found comforting, but one she took no notice of now. Beneath her feet, the ship rose and fell with a gentle motion. The sea was calm and she was grateful for it. Confronting Iñigo would prove to be much easier, not having to battle an unruly ship as well.

  Her mouth went dry as she neared the stairs leading topside. It was madness, what she was doing. Most of the crew would still be topside, no doubt. She chanced her life with this show of bravado, but she cared not. Her need to lash out at Iñigo was more than she could bear.

  “Steady, Finn,” she muttered, clutching the cutlass’s hilt in a now-sweaty fist. Perspiration dampened her from head to toe, clammy and uncomfortable. Breathing was more difficult as well, what with her heart now beating at three times its normal pace.

  Emerging into the brilliant sun, she had to squint to make out anything. The Spaniards’ voices were lyrical as they went about their daily tasks. Some were singing, some laughing, and some merely chatting to pass the time as they made rope, mopped decks, cleaned weapons, repaired damaged sails, and tackled whatever else needed doing. No one seemed to notice Finn as she stood beyond the stairway, free hand shading her eyes as she gazed about for Captain Sebastiano.

  She spotted him up near the forecastle, deep in discussion with a man she did not recognize. Taking a deep breath to calm her out-of-control heartbeat, Finn gripped her cutlass tighter and marched purposefully toward the captain.

  As she stormed by, dark heads lifted, eyes narrowing as each man rose to his feet and reached for his own weapon. No move was made to challenge her, as they were obviously more curious than afraid, and each man followed as she took the steps to the forecastle two at a time and growled, “Spaniard!”

  Both Iñigo and the man with whom he’d been conversing turned. The man swore, reaching at once for his saber, but Iñigo was calm. Reaching out to press a hand against the man’s chest, he said, “No, Manuel. No lo toques.”

  Manuel lowered his steel, but his eyes remained locked on Finn as he nodded and rumbled, “Sí, Capitán.”

  Iñigo removed his hand to face Finn. “What, pray tell, is this?”

  She gripped her cutlass tighter still. “It’s no less than you deserve, Spaniard.”

  His eyes hardened as they moved slowly from hers to the weapon in her hand. “Is that a fact? Feeling a bit of courage, Finn?”

  She sniffed, boasting, “Do not question my courage. Until now, I’ve had little reason to confront you. But you push too far. Now, you shall get what you deserve.”

  “Think to challenge me, do you?”

  “Aye. Though I doubt it’ll be a challenge now.”

  “Think so, do you?”

  She tried not to shiver at the icy chill behind his words. His eyes went flat, darkened until no hint of amber remained. Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed hard at the fear rising in her throat. Still, she kept her voice steady as she retorted, “That’s not what I think, Captain. Rather, it’s what I know.”

  His men gathering behind her, Iñigo raised his hand and his voice. “¡Sólo me encargo de él!” Her blood ran frigid as he growled, “I alone shall deal with him.”

  The others fell back, shuffling about to find the perfect viewing spot to watch their captain and the boy who dared challenge him. Though they were also her friends, their ultimate loyalties would lie with Iñigo, and that hung about her as he unsheathed his sword with fluid grace. As the moment had come, she was uncertain how to proceed. Echoing in her head were Iñigo’s earlier words about how his men would cut her down if she should put as much as a mark on him. Would they? Or would they heed their captain and allow him to deal with her as he saw fit?

  He held her stare as he brought his sword up, the blade parallel to his body. She mimicked his stance, trying to ignore how clammy her palm had become. It was almost amusing, how her hand was damp and her mouth dry at the same time. Her stomach clenched as she let her feet become accustomed to the pitch of the deck beneath her.

  “Come then, lad,” Iñigo taunted, gesturing with his free hand. “I will even allow you the first move.”

  “Think you that you will goad me into a mistake?” she asked, making no move toward him.

  “Of course not. I have a mite more respect for your abilities, limited though they are.”

  She swung, her blow deftly deflected with a resounding clang. The jolt tore up her arm to give her a hint of the power behind the man before her. A power she knew existed, but one she’d never faced before.

  Behind her, the others cheered as he deflected the second attack as well.
The battle was on. Back and forth, he toyed with her, allowing her to gain the upper hand before beating her back. Steel glinted in the sun, clanged upon contact, and the crowd shifted as he forced her back along the forecastle, toward the railing.

  Her arms ached, becoming harder to lift, to defend herself as Iñigo increased the power behind his attack. Each time their blades crossed, pain coursed up to her shoulder, and raising her arm was increasingly difficult. Her wounds throbbed, threatening to open up and spill her blood anew.

  Reluctantly, she wrapped her free hand about the hilt as well, hating to give in to this sign of weakness, but without any other choice. Her skills were too raw, too undeveloped, and she was far too tired to rely on a one-handed approach. Sweat beaded her forehead, dampened her back beneath her shirt, but she refused to relent. By stubborn, sheer will she was able to show some semblance of a fight.

  “Tired, Finn?” Iñigo jeered, backing her up against the railing as she blocked yet another advance, though much slower this time. “You seem to be slowing.”

  “Hardly.” The word was difficult to force through her lips, as most of her energy was focused on keeping her blade raised to prevent being pierced. “I am merely biding my time.”

  He grinned triumphantly, pressing into her, flattening himself against her to bend her back over the rail. “I think you most valiant, Finn,” he murmured, pressing hard against her, as if trying to crush her against the wood. “But, you needs accept the truth. You cannot best me and we both know this. Do not force me to kill you.”

  “Do what you must, Spaniard.”

  He pressed harder still, as if trying to break her in half. His sword-arm pushed down to pin hers against her body, the hand clutching her sword digging into her belly. The hilt, wedged uncomfortably beneath her ribs, made breathing difficult, and his weight crushing her didn’t help matters. That was the only part of him that touched her, but it was enough to wreak havoc on her senses. She wanted to fling her weapon overboard and melt against him. The amber fire was back, his eyes glowing with desire. Evidently, their battle aroused him as well.

  He leaned closer still, growling, “I would much rather not battle you, Finn.”

  “Well, it’s sorry that I am to say I wish only to see your blood spill, Spaniard.”

  “Do not make me destroy you,” he murmured, shaking his head regretfully. “We both know that’s the only way this might end.”

  As if to prove his point, he stiffened against her, giving her ample exposure to the iron-like muscles layering his body. He was right and that did nothing to ease her fury. Rather, her belly clenched as her insides did a slow melt. All of the desire she could no longer deny rose up to liquefy her innards despite her determination not to feel it. She didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to want him with such overwhelming desire, and angry tears stung her eyes, which also did nothing but incense her further. “Nay… I would rather die.”

  “I hope you do not expect me to shame myself before my men and surrender to you.”

  “Of course not.”

  He frowned, swearing beneath his breath. “¡Dios mío! Why are you so stubborn?”

  “I give what I get.”

  “Very well.” Iñigo pushed back, allowing her to stand upright. He swung without warning, catching the hilt of her cutlass above her hand.

  “No!” Finn couldn’t hold back her scream as her hand opened and her prized steel sailed free. It flew out over the rail, a black line against the azure blue West Indies sky. For one brief moment, the finely honed blade glinted in the sunlight. It hit the water with a plop and sank from sight.

  She stared in horror at the bubbles frothing the ocean’s surface where it had vanished, ignoring the throb in her arm from the vibration caused by the force of his blow. Her cutlass—the weapon she’d been grateful to find and had taken such care of—gone in a flash of sunlight on steel.

  Tears flooded her eyes once more and she fought to blink them back, not wanting the men to see her further humiliation. No tears, you ninny. A lad. A lad would not cry. Still, the lump rose in her throat, clogged it fast to make speaking impossible. Her fingernails tore at the fine oak railing as she dug into the wood to alleviate some of her rage.

  Iñigo stepped up behind her, his voice low at her ear as he whispered, “I am sorry it came to that, Finn. You left me no choice.”

  “Go to the devil!” she choked, spinning around and swinging at the same time. Her fist slammed into his jaw, the blow knocking him back several steps. Pain exploded through her hand, but she had little time to notice, nor did she have time to savor the absolute shock on Iñigo’s face. No sooner had she landed the blow when Manuel lunged, knocking her off her feet to slam her onto the deck.

  “Ooof!” The air hissed from her body as he pinned her to the deck and she stared up in horror as his upraised fist began its descent.

  “¡No!” Iñigo’s shout boomed across the deck like a thunderclap. “¡Alto! ¡No lo toques! ¡Alto!” he hollered, grabbing Manuel around the middle to haul him off her.

  She lay there for a long moment, sucking in air and fighting off tears of frustration and anger. She almost welcomed being pummeled by Manuel. At least it would dull some of the pain of losing her cutlass. It was impossible to believe. Iñigo actually sent her steel plummeting to the bottom of the ocean.

  “Finn.” Iñigo crouched down beside her, reaching for her arm.

  She jerked away, swinging wildly this time, missing him by inches. “Nay! Do not touch me, Spaniard!”

  “You will come with me,” he growled, gripping her uninjured arm in a tight fist and lifted her to her feet.

  All around them, men watched with great interest, waiting to see how their captain chose to punish the boy with gall enough to strike him. He had to do something to keep tongues from wagging, but she still winced as Iñigo squeezed her arm tighter, growling, “You will come with me, boy. It’s to the hold with you until I decide your punishment.”

  His voice was icy with fury and Finn's eyes dried almost immediately. A quick glance told her his eyes almost bubbled gold with anger and her belly clenched, her lost steel forgotten as she realized what she’d done. It was unthinkable, attacking him before his men. She left him with no choice but to mete out some sort of punishment and the heat of dread scorched her innards even as her hand began to tingle from lack of blood.

  Offering no resistance, Finn allowed him to drag her across the deck, toward the stairs, where he shoved her down into the darkness. He spoke not a word, but remained silent as he marched her along the corridor.

  Once they crossed the threshold to his cabin, he gave her a mighty shove, sending her reeling across the room. “You little fool!” he thundered, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the walls. “How dare you think to challenge me before my men!”

  She skidded to a halt before slamming into the bed, whirling about to meet his angry, fiery stare. Now she was ready to fight and determined to do that. “Me? You drove me to it! You arrogant, braying jackass—”

  “Drove you, did I?” he interrupted with a sneer. “You are angry only because you know I was right.” His eyes narrowed. “Or did you think I’d let you best me simply because you are a woman?”

  “You bas—”

  He jerked sideways to avoid the blow, catching her wrist easily. “Ah-ah, love. What happened to the fist with which you planned to do such great harm? A flimsy slap is far less than what I would expect of you.”

  Finn resisted the urge to kick him in the shin. Heat from his hand seeped into her, amber fire slowly filled his eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. If their battle above deck aroused him, this battle only added fuel to the fire.

  “And now I, once again, will be forced to carry out punishment to one of my own,” he bit off.

  She sniffed. “Punishment? Why? I was warned. Should I so much as make a mark upon you…”

  Iñigo shook his head, unable to hold back the heat from his voice. “You provoked me, not him. And I gave
the order that not one was to touch you. He attacked a mere boy—disobeyed an order… That is grounds enough.”

  She stared hard at him. “A boy, Spaniard?” she sneered. “Or do you defend the honor of a woman?”

  He tugged on her wrist, drawing her into his arms, his voice a throaty growl. “No. I defend the honor of my woman.”

  She bristled, even as her heart gave a queer leap. “What was that?”

  “Aye, love. You heard correctly. You can be as angry with me as you wish. This changes nothing. You are my woman and you shall be my woman until I decide to let you go.”

  “Is that so?”

  He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his to silence her. His arms tightened about her, his tongue delving between her lips to duel with hers in a slow, sensual dance. Her eyes fluttered shut as she allowed the heat from his body to seep into her, to ease her anger, her sorrow. His hands weren’t gentle, but firm—one pressing her into him, the other sliding up into her hair. She offered no resistance, sliding her arms about his neck, letting her fingers slip through his hair, where it curled at his nape and brushed his broad shoulders. His kiss filled her with a sweet, delicious heat unlike any other. It centered low in her belly, but spread through her limbs like boiling water, warming her from the inside out. His tongue caressed hers much the way his lips did, with a slow sensuality fairly tearing the breath from her lungs.

  He pushed her back against the bed, releasing her only to brace one arm out and guide her down onto her back, pressing her into the tick, pressing into her with his weight. Instead of feeling crushed, as she would imagine being pinned by a man of his size should feel, she reveled in his weight. Prone, they aligned perfectly, chest to chest, hip to hip. His mouth devoured hers, lips and tongue combining to tease her into a mindless fog of desire.

  Her fingers slid through his hair, cool and silken to the touch. His hands, though, slid over her. Easing from beneath her, they moved up, catching the bottom of the linen shirt he’d given her, inching beneath it and dragging it upward until his fingers brushed her breasts and they groaned in unison.