The boy would come down now. Her gaze sought him out, travelling up the ratlines and sheets, up through the timbers and billowing sails. There. Straddling the topmost spar at a dizzying height far above the deck.
Seeing his pursuer being dressed down by the officer, he leaped to his feet, shook his fist and danced a triumphant hornpipe.
The little wretch. If he wasn’t careful—
His foot slipped. He grabbed for the spar. It slipped from his grasping fingers. He toppled forwards. Twisted like an acrobat. Caught one arm over the looping footropes.
Alice’s heart lurched into her throat.
‘Look out!’ Richard grabbed her around the waist.
A large figure rushed past. Lionhawk. Alice caught the stark fear in his expression just before he flung himself upwards into the rigging, climbing like a man possessed.
Far above him, the boy’s feet kicked, his free hand stretching for a rope just out of reach.
Alice pressed her hands to her mouth, unable to look away, not wanting to watch.
‘Hold on,’ Lionhawk yelled. His fluid strength carried him swiftly. But the boy was weakening. The rope slipped from under his armpit to the crook of his elbow. He swung wildly.
A thin wail rang out.
A gasp rushed from her throat. Her stomach knotted tight. Her heart struggled to beat. He was too little, too weak, to hold his own weight. Instinctively, she ran forwards arms outstretched.
‘Please, Miss Fulton,’ Wishart called out. ‘Stand back.’
Richard grabbed her arm and pulled.
She couldn’t move. She could only stare upwards at the figures too far apart. At the little lad’s kicking feet. She could only imagine his fear. If only there was something she could do.
‘Don’t look down,’ Lionhawk yelled up at the boy. He launched himself from one rope to the next.
‘Fetch a sail,’ Alice said. ‘Spread it out to catch him. If he falls—’
‘He’s too high,’ Richard said. ‘Don’t watch. Take Lady Selina and go below.’ He pointed to where Selina stood in the stern, her face pressed to Anderson’s shoulder.
Another cry from above. Against her will, her stomach so tight it hurt, Alice looked up.
The boy now hung by one hand. Her stomach roiled. She couldn’t breathe or move, she could only watch Lionhawk’s last desperate rush.
He hit the spar at a run.
Oh God, he would fall too. She covered her face with her hands.
‘He’s got him,’ Richard said. ‘Hooray.’ He gave her shoulders a squeeze.
At the helm, Wishart cursed loud and long.
Alice felt like cursing too. And whooping. She sagged against the rail, her trembling legs refusing to hold her weight, and looked up.
Carefully, Lionhawk hauled the boy up on to the spar and pulled him against his chest, held him there, hugging him close, holding him, rocking him, stroking his hair. The lad burrowed against his solid form.
She couldn’t hear anything, but she sensed Lionhawk talking to the boy the way a groom talked to a frightened horse, soothing him, calming him.
And all the while they were balanced high above the deck on a length of wood that looked no thicker than her finger.
One false move and they’d both smash to the deck. Yet she knew he wouldn’t fall, not with the lad. Not after such a daring rescue.
Time that had slowed to a crawl seemed to race. Had it been minutes or hours since the lad shot past her? Finally, Lionhawk set the boy on his feet and nudged him towards the mast.
The lad took one shaky step and glanced back at his captain. Surely Lionhawk wouldn’t make him climb down by himself!
Alice’s heart once more fluttered like a wild bird caught in a net.
The lad gave a little hop, then a skip, then swung down like a monkey.
Alice shook her head. Boys. Who would understand them? And now the pair was racing, Lionhawk catching the lad up, passing him and landing with a thump on the deck a good few seconds ahead with a wide grin.
They deserved to break their necks. But it was a relief to see the boy drop to the deck beside her.
Lionhawk strode over to him. ‘You little rat.’ He rubbed the boy’s shorn head. ‘I thought I was finally going to be rid of you.’ The voice was hard, but the eyes were stark with an emotion Alice felt sure was fear. How was that possible?
‘Let me see your hand,’ she said to the boy.
He held out a grimy paw, knuckles up.
She turned it over. The skin of his palm was raw and bleeding. No wonder he’d had trouble holding on. ‘How did this happen?’
‘’E cut me.’ He jerked his head in Kale’s direction.
Lionhawk’s face hardened as he turned to Kale. ‘What the hell were you about?’
Kale lifted his lip. ‘He’s a thief. The little bastard. He deserves a good whipping!’
Lionhawk stiffened. He looked at the boy. ‘What did you take?’
The lad fumbled in his trouser pocket. He pulled out a silver coin.
Lionhawk’s face darkened. ‘Jacko. You know the rules.’
‘It’s mine,’ the boy said. ‘’E stole it from me. I was just rec-recov…getting it back.’
‘Prove it,’ Kale snarled.
‘Jacko?’ Lionhawk said.
‘It’s the truth,’ the boy yelled. ‘You gave it me. When we was in Lisbon. I never spent it.’ He pointed at Kale. ‘I saw ’im take it, when ’e thought I weren’t looking.’
Lionhawk took the coin and turned it over. ‘It looks very much like the one I gave him, Kale. I want the truth now.’
‘That’s right,’ Kale said. ‘Believe your little bum boy. We all know why you favours him.’
A deadly insult.
The air on the deck stilled. Even though the sun remained high in the sky, the day seemed suddenly cool.
Wishart glowered. ‘You, Kale, have been nothing but trouble since you came on board. A conversation with the cat will straighten you out.’
‘Not on my ship,’ Lionhawk said grimly. ‘It doesn’t matter who owns the coin. He pulled a knife on a shipmate.’ He glared at the sullen sailor. ‘Do your duty from here on in and we’ll part company at our next port and no more said. One wrong step and you’ll find yourself in irons.’
Kale cursed. ‘See. He favours that lad over proper seamen. T’aint right.’
Wishart’s handsome features twisted in a snarl. ‘You heard the captain. Get below. Count yourself lucky. If it was up to me, you’d be getting off at the next port with no skin on your back.’
Kale disappeared at the double.
Lionhawk turned back to the boy. ‘Next time you have a problem with one of the crew, you talk to me.’
The lad hung his head.
‘Jacko.’ The captain’s voice was kind but firm.
‘Aye, aye, Cap’n,’ the boy said.
‘I have some salve in my trunk that will heal his hand,’ Alice said.
Lionhawk swung around as if he had forgotten all about her. ‘Miss Fulton.’
‘It is very good salve,’ she said. ‘I will give it to Mr Bones, if you wish.’
The captain gave the boy a fierce glare. ‘Hear that, boy. Report to Bones and have him look at that hand. When he says you are fit, see Alphonse. You’ve earned yourself a day of kitchen duty.’
‘But, Cap’n—’
‘No buts, lad, or I’ll make it two days.’
Jacko rolled his lips in as if to physically stop more words from pouring forth. He sketched a salute and walked away with dragging feet.
‘At the double,’ Lionhawk growled.
The boy fled.
Alice couldn’t help her chuckle.
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry you had to witness that.’
‘I’m glad you managed to reach the boy in time. I have never been so scared in all my life.’
Lionhawk stared at her for a moment, then let out a long breath. His shoulders relaxed. ‘To be honest, I didn’t think I’d make it.’
&n
bsp; ‘I’m amazed you managed to get him to climb down by himself.’
‘Pride is a remarkable thing.’
‘And Kale?’
‘Wishart is right. The man is a menace.’ His lips flattened. ‘The sooner he is off my ship the better.’ A smile dawned on his face and turned him from stern to charming. ‘Thank you for your offer of medical help for the boy.’
The burn in her face let her know she was back in dangerous waters. One flash of warmth and she melted. She kept her expression tea-time polite. ‘It was the least I could do. If Mr Bones has need of the salve, have him let me know.’
‘Thank you.’ He bowed with old-fashioned courtesy. ‘In appreciation for your kindness, I should be glad of your company at dinner tonight.’
She felt as if she’d walked into a trap. ‘I did nothing.’ Wrong answer. She should have said no. She opened her mouth to refuse.
‘I saw you with your arms outstretched to catch him, Miss Fulton.’
‘I scarcely recall what I did at that moment.’
‘Kind, but foolhardy in the extreme. If he had fallen from that height you would have been killed.’
‘Do you invite me to dinner to thank me, or lecture me, sir? In any case, you reached him in time, so the issue is moot.’
Michael watched her back stiffen and her face take on its disapproving expression. Prickly again. Defensive. The same as when she parried questions about Fulton Shipping. Behind that prim demeanour she was definitely hiding something, and not just the fact that she found him attractive. Tonight he would get to the truth. And…he did want to thank her.
‘Since I prefer not to dine alone with such scintillating company on board,’ he said, ‘perhaps Lady Selina would prefer to join me in your stead?’
Her eyes narrowed, pinpoints of amber and green dancing in brown depths. Amusement or anger. ‘Is that a threat, Captain Lionhawk?’
Sun-kissed wisps of hair fluttered around her serious face, her slightly askew bonnet gave her an attractively dishevelled appearance. ‘Merely a question, Miss Fulton.’
‘If you find our company so delightful, why not dine with all of your guests—together?’
A bantam cock in a barnyard could not have looked more ready for battle. He found himself wanting to laugh. Damn it, why did he have to like the blasted woman? She was Fulton’s get and he’d do well to remember it.
‘My cabin is far too small for large gatherings. No. One person only. Lady Selina it will be this evening. And tomorrow your brother.’ He glanced over at the boy eagerly conversing with Wishart at the wheel. ‘He’s an engaging scamp. He’ll make an excellent sailor, given the chance.’
‘I don’t see why whatever you need to discuss cannot be said here on deck, Captain Lionhawk.’
‘Please, call me Michael. The ship is too small, our party too intimate, to stand on ceremony.’
Heat flushed her cheeks and she turned her face towards the empty wilderness of sea and sky.
‘Do you really want to discuss the terms of your ransom now when your brother or your friend might join us at any moment and overhear?’
She sighed. ‘No.’
He stifled a smile of triumph.
A dark water-slick, supple creature cleared the waves ahead of the prow.
‘Oh,’ she said pointing. ‘A dolphin.’
He drew closer, his hand beside hers on the rail, his gaze on her profile as she admired the lithe leaps and dives.
She shivered. Michael’s body warmed in response to that tell-tale tremble of awareness. Of him. It was as if he sensed every nuance of her skin, as if every breath she took had more meaning than a simple inhalation.
What the hell was he thinking? This was the daughter of his enemy.
He wasn’t thinking. Not with his brain.
He had a use for Alice Fulton. And for that he needed to allay her fears.
‘I hope you will find your quarters a shade more pleasant when you return below,’ he said casually. ‘The men are swabbing it while you take the air. I didn’t expect company on this voyage or we would have made it habitable.’
She turned to face him, her face surprised. ‘Thank you.’
The ship lurched on a rogue wave. He reached out a hand to steady her.
She flinched.
It irritated him, but he merely cocked a brow, kept his voice calm. ‘Surely you don’t fear me, Miss Fulton?’
‘Certainly not. I just don’t wish for your company.’
‘Your young brother, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying himself enormously.’
Her glance shot to where Richard chatted animatedly at the wheel. She paled beneath her freckles.
‘What is it you really want?’ she said.
Clever Miss Fulton. He would do well not to underestimate her. He placed his hand against his heart. ‘I’m naught but a common sailor who rarely has the chance to enjoy such pleasant company.’ He bowed and grinned at her obvious disbelief. ‘And besides, you beat me at chess last night. You owe me a return match. And honest answers to my questions.’
The fight went out of her. He saw it in the resignation in her gaze, the slump of her shoulders. Damn it, now he had the urge to offer her comfort.
She held out a moment longer, chewing the inside of her cheek, giving her face a quaint, lopsided expression. ‘Very well,’ she said, gruffly.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘I will dine with you this evening.’
The tension in his neck melted away. Until this moment, he hadn’t realised how much store he’d put in her acquiescence, grudging though it was. He looked forward to battling wits with her again. And this time he would win.
She must have sensed his triumph for her hazel gaze became wary and he had the sense she might change her mind.
‘I promise you an excellent dinner. I wouldn’t like you to think the fare you had last night was the best the Gryphon can provide. Simpson will come for you at four bells.’
He bowed and made his escape.
Chapter Seven
‘Don’t go. Tell him you are ill.’ Selina stopped plaiting Alice’s hair, waiting for an answer.
This was the real Selina talking, not the fragile rose of ballrooms and afternoon teas, but the lass of tough heather from her native highlands. And she wasn’t about to let Alice wave her off.
‘I don’t have a choice. He’s threatening Richard.’ And you.
‘Beast,’ Selina hissed.
Alice bristled in the oddest way. Must be the venom in her friend’s tone. Sometimes Alice thought Selina didn’t like the opposite sex one little bit.
Selina pinned the plait above Alice’s left ear, then set to work on another hank.
‘The problem is,’ Alice said, ‘I don’t think my father can pay the kind of ransom Lionhawk will want.’
The tugging on her head stopped. ‘Oh dear.’
‘Quite. Oh, you don’t need to worry. I’m sure your father will pay whatever is asked.’
‘If you think I would leave you here with that man, alone—’
‘I have a plan.’
Selina finished pinning and came to face Alice, hands on her hips, her eyes sharp. ‘And this plan involves you going to dinner with the pirate?’
Heat rushed to Alice’s cheeks. ‘I’m going to entice him with my half of Fulton’s Shipping. He’s expressed interested in Father’s business and spoke of returning to England after the war.’
Selina tapped her foot. ‘Why would Lionhawk—and that, by the way is such a stupid name—want a half-share in a failing….?’ She drew in a breath as if to suck back the words. ‘Alice, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right. It will be common knowledge soon enough. But Lionhawk doesn’t know. Not the full extent. And besides, Father’s good name has to be worth something. Lionhawk is rich, Selina. He’s made money stealing from people like Father. Why shouldn’t he put something back?’
A grin crossed her friend’s face. Admiration shone from her eyes. ‘You, my dear, are a
devious female. I love it.’
She didn’t exactly feel good about tricking Lionhawk. ‘Thank you. I just hope he takes the bait. I’m banking on him taking advantage of a silly woman who doesn’t know the value of what she’s offering in exchange for her freedom.’
Selina’s brow furrowed. She tapped her forefinger against her lips. Alice recognised the signs. Her friend was having an idea. She felt a prickle of unease. Like getting the measles, Selina’s ideas were often dangerous.
‘You beat him at chess, didn’t you?’ Selina asked. ‘Can you beat him every time?’
He’d said he was rusty, but even so he had played reasonably well, while she’d played with only half of her mind because she was worried about Richard. And Lionhawk had disturbed her. It would not happen again. ‘Yes, I can beat him.’
Selina frowned. ‘Could you let him win without him knowing?’
‘To stroke his pride? Make him more amenable to my offer?’
‘In a way. Why not suggest a wager? You know, best of three. If you win, he forgoes the ransom and sets us free. He’s more likely to bite if you let him win one game first.’
‘So I let him win, then propose the wager? Fulton’s against the ransom? That’s thoroughly dishonest.’
Selina sighed. ‘Do you think what he is doing is honest?’
‘Well…’ While she didn’t approve of Lionhawk’s chosen career, it was perfectly legal. Although he had flown a false flag and lied to them about being a cook.
Selina looked Alice up and down. ‘How long do we have, before you have to go up there?’
‘Why?’
‘He’s a sailor, isn’t he? Don’t they spend weeks at sea? Alone? Lonely?’
‘Selina!’ Alice couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice, or the edge of hysteria. ‘You are not suggesting I seduce him?’
‘Certainly not. He likes you. I saw the way he looked at you. If you distract him, you can have him eating out of your hand.’
An image of Michael licking her palm flashed into her mind. Flutters danced across her chest, firing little pulses low in her abdomen. The base urges she had fought so hard to suppress escaped their confines in a rush of heat. She battled them down with a deep breath. ‘No. I’m not cut out for having men eat out of my hand.’
Captured for the Captain's Pleasure Page 7
