Princess at Sea

by Dawn Cook

  Feeling ill and weak, I scanned the drunken, sleeping men. Duncan was likely to be on the outskirts as the newest member and not well liked. It’s his own fault, I thought while I edged around them, keeping to the shadows where I could. He won at cards and dice too often to make friends. It had been the same on the Sandpiper. He never seemed to fit in. Just like me.

  Carefully, I edged to a bedroll set well back from the fire. As I had thought, it was Duncan, his long face slack in slumber. His stubble had grown into a decent beard, and it made him look older. I crouched beside him, taking in his brow pinched in a worried dream. And he cares for me, I thought as I found a stick to prod him awake. What did that mean to him?

  Well out of arm’s reach, I pushed on his knee. His breathing shifted only slightly as his eyes flashed open. Never moving, he stared up at the fronds over his head. Slowly his gaze rove over the night, though his head never did. His eyes fell upon me, and they widened. “Tess,” his lips moved, but not a sound came from them.

  Smiling, I put a finger to his mouth. My legs ached, and I slowly fell to kneel.

  His gaze dropped to my ankle, reddened and showing a trickle of blood where I had nicked it. Easing himself up, his blanket fell to show he was sleeping in his clothes. A lump filled my throat when his hand fell upon my left shoulder and he pulled me closer.

  “I knew you would find a way to escape,” he whispered in my ear to send a wash of feeling through me. “You’re the smartest woman I’ve met, Tess. God help me, how could I not love you?”

  My throat closed, and I made my eyes wide, refusing to cry. Jeck thought I was foolish, and Duncan thought I was smart. Managing a smile, I rose, beckoning him to follow.

  Duncan got to his feet, soundless over the wind in the treetops that failed to reach us below. His hand slipped into mine at the edge of the brush. It was warm and solid, and I unhesitatingly led him farther into the dark. “It gets better,” I said as soon as it was prudent. “Captain Jeck is here. He’s going to meet us with Alex and Contessa on the west beach.”

  There was the barest falter in his pace. “Captain Jeck?” he questioned. “How did he find us?”

  “There were only so many islands to look,” I said, feeling guilty for the lie. But my unease at how Jeck and I had melded thoughts—allowing me to point out the way through him—was even stronger. That both of us had been unusually high in our venom levels probably had everything to do with it. It still bothered me, though.

  I tripped on an unseen root, and Duncan was there to keep me from falling. “Thanks,” I whispered when the pain from the jolt eased, and I got a white-toothed smile in return. I wasn’t afraid to show weakness before Duncan. I didn’t have to prove my worth to him. He could see me fall and think nothing less of me.

  “That way,” I said, catching a glimpse of the moon. “We need to get to the westernmost beach. There’s a boat, but I don’t know how long Jeck will wait.”

  “You’re going to do this, Tess,” Duncan said, his voice still a whisper though no one could possibly hear. “I told him you would escape. I warned him.”

  “Captain Rylan?” I asked, fear joining my pain. “Why did you tell him I’d escape?”

  Duncan grinned. “Two reasons. One, if I said you could, I wouldn’t be blamed if you went missing. And two, I wagered one of my rings for his that you would. Shame I won’t be around to collect on that.”

  I would have laughed if it wouldn’t hurt so much.

  A slurred, drunken cry rose up behind us, and my pulse leapt. “I thought we’d have more time,” I said, my numbed right foot hurting as I stumbled.

  Duncan tensed like a deer scenting the wind. His attention was behind us. “West beach?” he said softly. “Let’s go.”

  He pushed ahead of me. Branches snapped and leaves tore. Ignoring the ache of my right side, I followed. I kept one hand on his back, ducking when branches whipped back where my head would have been. I didn’t watch where I was going, trusting Duncan to force the way. My heart hammered, and I struggled to keep up. The venom pulled at me.

  Behind us came the increasingly loud shouts of the crew. Duncan crashed ahead, leaving a trail anyone could follow, even in the dark. Fear of recapture struck me like a goad, sending me stumbling forward despite my trembling muscles. They would kill Duncan. If I was lucky, they would kill me.

  My bare foot found a piece of coral, and I cried out, lurching to a halt against a tree. Duncan jerked to a stop, turning.

  “I’m all right,” I panted, my air coming in quick sounds as the venom leached out of my healed shoulder and into me. The surge of unfocused magic was pulled into existence by my rapid pulse and faster blood. I could do nothing with it; to use my magic would hurt even more.

  I will not be taken, I thought grimly, as Duncan resumed pushing through the underbrush. I followed. There was no sound of close pursuit as of yet. A dim glow showed when I risked a glance behind. They had built the fire high, and torches were probably being lit. I could hear Captain Rylan’s voice over them all, and Mr. Smitty bellowing out terse demands in a voice used to battling storms.

  Duncan seemed to stumble and disappear. “Goat path,” he said, when his head popped back through the underbrush. “Here.”

  My vision swam as I accepted his extended hand, and he helped me down to the thin trail. His grip was firm, and I took strength from it. Lungs heaving, I looked up the trail. The ground was soft, spongy, and cold under my feet. We would make it. We had to. Jeck was waiting. We would be safe if we could move fast enough.

  “Go,” I said, though the hurt rising up my leg was growing worse.

  Still holding my hand, Duncan started to jog. I trailed behind, unable to watch where I was going. It was all I could do to breathe. The air was like fire in my lungs. I couldn’t see, the moon making silver-and-black shadows where there should be none. My right leg had gone numb, and I couldn’t feel anything but a dull pressure when my foot hit the ground. I thanked all that was holy Duncan was here, leading me.

  I stumbled, having to consciously force my leg to keep moving. My vision blurred. The light on the ground suddenly brightened with moonlight, and I drew my head up as Duncan halted. Panting, I dropped his hand and pushed the hair from my eyes. We had found the beach, and my rasping intake of breath sounded loud against the faint surf.

  The strip of white sand was narrow; the tide must be just past its full height. A soft hush of incoming waves was muted by the night. I scanned the shore for the Sandpiper’s rowboat, my face becoming cold when I didn’t see it. Taking breath after grateful breath, I held a hand to my side and searched the horizon for the Sandpiper, not seeing it either. Where were they?

  Duncan turned at the faint sound of the pirates growing loud in discovery, then soft.

  “You said the west beach,” he said, clearly afraid. “Where’s the damn boat, Tess?”

  “I don’t know.” This was the right beach. With the moonlight, it was almost as bright as noon. The Sandpiper, at least, ought to be visible.

  “He’s not here!” Duncan said, the anger heavy in his voice. “That damned captain of yours isn’t here! He lied to you, Tess. He lied!”

  Eyes on the horizon, I felt my hope turn to ash when a distant white shadow pulled itself from beyond the break of trees. It was the Sandpiper in full sail—headed away from us. “There she is,” I whispered, and Duncan spun, waving his hat frantically.

  I stood still and silent while my pulse slowed and my leg regained its feeling with the sensation of needles and pins. Jeck had said the boat would be off this beach in about ten minutes. It was about that now. I had assumed that meant I’d be able to get on her. Apparently not. Jeck hadn’t lied. I had let him trick me.

  It wasn’t anger at Jeck that rushed through me, hot and potent. It was anger at myself. I was a fool. I was a weak, foolish-minded woman, and Jeck had taken advantage of it, using Duncan and me to lure the pirates away from not only the real point where the Sandpiper’s dinghy waited, but also by bringing th
em halfway across the island away from their boat and increasing the time it would take before they could mount a pursuit.

  “Uh, Tess,” Duncan said, his arm falling to his side. “They aren’t stopping.” He hesitated, his face turning sick and pale in the moonlight. “Um, I think they’re already aboard. I think . . . they left us.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was so stupid to have trusted Jeck.

  A distant call spun me to the trees behind us. They were getting closer. If they found Duncan with me, standing on a beach with the hostages gone, they would know he wasn’t really one of them and that he had been trying to escape. Jeck had sentenced us both.

  Duncan took two steps to the water, then stopped. He looked like a trapped animal, his lips a thin line and his brow furrowed. I numbly watched his thumb rub his second finger. It was his tell that he was worried.

  “They’ll kill you,” I whispered, trying to find a way to accept it.

  Duncan glanced over my shoulder at the approaching noise. “Not if I can help it.”

  There was a new hardness to his voice that I’d never heard before. No, I thought. I’d heard it when he had been shackled under the guard quarters. He had picked every lock down there, freeing my guards so they could retake the palace. It was the tone he had when he found himself forced into a choice he didn’t want to make.

  “I’m really sorry about this, Tess,” he said as he pulled me close.

  I pressed into him, feeling his warmth as the wind cut off. I could smell the sea on him, mixing with sweat and sand. “It was my fault,” I whispered, and he tucked a curl behind my ear. “If I had just gone with Jeck, you might have been safe. You could have slipped away at the next harbor and met us back at the palace.”

  He shook his head, an uncomfortable pinch to his eyes. “No, I mean for what I’m going to do.”

  I pulled back, staring up at him, not understanding.

  “Tess,” he fumbled. He glanced over my shoulder at the sound of approaching men. “The only way I’m going to survive this is if they think I took you out for a walk.”

  “A walk?” I said, bewildered.

  He winced, not meeting my eyes. “Um, yeah. See, I won you—according to them—and if I wanted to take advantage of that and not have to share . . . uh . . . you, I would probably take you somewhere they wouldn’t hear while I, um . . . took you.”

  Understanding flashed through me. “Oh!” I exclaimed, suddenly very much aware of his arms wrapped about me and how close we were standing.

  His head bowed, and he put his forehead against mine. My brown curls mingled with his bangs in the gusts of wind. “I’m really, really sorry, Tess,” he whispered. “You must believe me. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Do what?” I asked stupidly.

  He sighed. I felt it through every part of me. “This,” he said. In a sudden motion, he jerked my torn sleeve, tearing the temporary stitches out.

  “Duncan!” I shrieked, pulling away only to be yanked back into him. The wind cut at me, and I panicked. He had torn my dress almost to my waist. I clutched the ends to me, having managed to wedge my bitten arm between him and me. It hurt, but I wouldn’t move it for anything.

  A distant call had gone up behind us. I had been heard. Pulse pounding, I stared at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, whispering over the wind. “But if it doesn’t look real, they won’t believe me.”

  Fear, real and icy, slid through me. I didn’t know what he was going to do anymore. “Duncan!” I cried, as he dropped to the sand, yanking me down on top of him.

  I gasped as I fell, grunting in pain when I hit him. Every muscle twanged in hurt, taking my breath away. Helpless, I struggled to breathe, doing nothing when he slid me off him so that we were lying next to each other. He shifted, pinning my unhurt shoulder to the sand under a heavy hand and loomed over me, a frightening look in his eye.

  “Duncan?” I said, trusting him but feeling sick to my stomach. He wouldn’t. Even for show, he wouldn’t. But in my weakened state, he could.

  “You really should be struggling,” he said, his eyes under his thick bangs unreadable.

  I licked my lips, feeling his weight pressing into me lightly. “But I don’t want to.”

  He leaned to me, the wind vanishing as he grew close. The faint scent of ale and leather filled my senses, and my eyes closed. A sound escaped me, seeming to meld me farther into him as his lips met mine. Salty from the wind, I tasted them, and his grip on my good shoulder clenched and relaxed.

  My pulse pounded. I reached up with my uninjured hand, pulling him closer. My fingers twined in his hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled away with a surprised intake of air. My eyes opened and met his startled gaze. I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought, not caring.

  “Come with me,” he whispered. “Please, Tess. When this is over, promise you’ll come with me? There’s nothing to stop you now.”

  I couldn’t answer. Knowing it was a mistake, I pulled him back to me.

  He came willingly and with such a sudden fervor that I hesitated a bare moment before responding. I should not be doing this, came my thought again. I should stop, and push him away. I should pull myself away from him and sit up. I should fight him so the pirates would believe his story.

  But all I could do was close my eyes at the unexpected want of desire rising in me.

  The fingers of my right hand twitched, and, ignoring the hurt, I lightly curled my arm over his back, trying to pull him tight. His breath came in a quick sound, and his beard brushed against me as we kissed, softer than I would have expected. The weight of his hand met my waist, our skin touching where my dress had been torn. It wasn’t the first time we had kissed, but every time we did, I lost a little more of my resolve.

  An unwelcome, sudden commotion of light and noise broke upon us. I gasped as Duncan jerked away. I had forgotten.

  Annoyance was real upon Duncan as he pushed himself up on one stiff arm and his knees. Scowling, he stared at the pirates ringing us, his anger clear in their flickering torches. I stared, wide-eyed, not knowing what to do. I clutched my dress closed about me the best I could, heart pounding.

  “Git up,” Mr. Smitty snapped, and I gasped when Duncan was yanked from beside me.

  Ignoring my hurts, I scrambled up before any of them could touch me. I daren’t look to the ocean, lest I give away that I knew the Sandpiper was in sight.

  Duncan, though, was enough to distract anyone. “A pox on your souls!” he shouted, hunched and angry as he shook off the restraining hands on him. “She’s mine. A man ought to be able to have what’s his without you chull bait, river sludge, sheep puckies coming in to muck it up! She’s mine! What the hell is wrong with you!”

  Captain Rylan took in Duncan’s anger and turned away. Mr. Smitty, though, rounded on him with enough fire to make the cheat stumble back a step.

  “Where are they!” he bellowed, his face inches away from Duncan’s suddenly startled eyes. “Where are the royals!”

  Duncan blinked. “They were on their tethers when I cut her loose,” he said, innocence thick and believable on him.

  “Captain!” one of the crew shouted, pointing to the sea. “There they are!”

  Everyone turned, and, peeping around them, I put a hand to my mouth as I saw the Sandpiper, her white sails full and round as she sailed from us, clear in the moonlight.

  “Back to the ship!” Mr. Smitty shouted. “Back to the ship and on her. I want anchor struck afore I touch her decks. Go!”

  All but Captain Rylan, Mr. Smitty, Duncan, and I scattered. The men ran up the goat path, the light from their torches quickly vanishing to leave us in the glow of a single torch and the moon riding high and almost full.

  “And you!” Mr. Smitty said, giving Duncan a push so he almost fell over. “I want you on the aft sail. You’ll be bringing her up by yourself till I say different!”

  “Aye, sir,” Duncan said, the fire gone from his voice but not his eyes.r />
  “Now, Mr. Smitty,” Captain Rylan soothed. “Duncan couldn’t have had anything to do with them escaping. He’s just thinking with the wrong part of himself. If anything, he saved one of them for us.”

  “A whore I’d just as soon see dead!” the incensed man shouted, gesturing for Duncan to get moving. “And you’re paying me to keep crew. You leave seeing to them to me!”

  I held my dress closed as I stumbled to walk before them. For the first time in my life I felt shame for what I had done. No one had commented on me or my torn dress. I wasn’t a woman any longer. I was a whore, a guttersnipe. I was the harlot that my mother had been and Kavenlow had bought me from. I was beneath notice and consideration.

  My throat closed, and the warmth of tears pricked at my eyes as I weaved on my feet. Duncan caught my elbow, and pain tore through me. It was my bitten arm, and I almost passed out.

  “Sorry, Tess,” he said, as I staggered.

  Duncan fell back when Mr. Smitty cuffed him. “Git your hands offa her!” he shouted, his voice rough and sounding like tearing cloth. “She looked eager enough to tumble with you, so she’s well enough to walk on her own. Tie her to the foremast when you get her aboard,” he added. “That’s where whores belong. And she’ll have a good view for when we take her queen back. I’m burning her boat to the waterline this time.”

  Thirteen

  I had watched the sun come up this morning while tied to the foremost mast. Mr. Smitty had tightened my ropes with a cruel severity, and my wrists stung from the repeated washes of waves that cascaded over the bow of Kelly’s Sapphire. Salt water dripped from my curls and ran down my face, making me shiver in the gusts of cold wind. Mr. Smitty was turning the ship to intentionally hit the occasional wave wrong so that the water would come over the deck. Normally the crew would be complaining for the rough ride. Today, though, they stopped their work and cheered whenever an especially big wave hit me.

  Adding to their delight was that Duncan had already been appointed to clean up the deck. Mr. Smitty had put him to work shortly after sunrise and the first wave hit me. Of course as soon as Duncan got the deck cleaned, a wave would crash over the stanchions and he’d have to start over. He was as wet as I was, and he wouldn’t look at me, his neck red and his motions stiff with anger.