Jules’s hand slid over her smooth shoulder and down to her waist. Hesitatingly he cupped a hand around one warm breast feeling the slight movement as she breathed. It wasn’t bad at all! He had thought to be repulsed but her young body was firm when he had expected a flaccid softness. Fascinated by his discovery he rubbed his thumb against the delicate crest and felt the hard, tightening nipple that oddly excited him.
Bending over he pressed his lips against the beating hollow at the base of her throat and suddenly found himself sprawled on the floor. She had come out of her trance! Angela picked up the chair she had been sitting in and threw it at him grazing his head. Jules rolled swiftly away from a kick she directed at him and sprang to his feet. He hadn’t seen her so animated in weeks.
“Beast!” she screamed looking for another object to hurl at him.
Angela was frightened, not of Jules but of herself. How long had he been there touching her while she hadn’t even known it? What was happening to her? Was she losing her mind because of the viciousness of the madman that held her in the palm of his hand? She had to get away before she lost her sanity completely—but how?
Jules sneered at her, his violet eyes wary as she went limp again, but her eyes were alert. “Gaston is tiring of you—before long he will get rid of you for good!”
“I wish he would! But what about you, Jules? Do you want me gone? Without me,” she purred, “you would have no rival.” Angela paused, letting her words sink in. “It would be so easy.”
“Easy? What are you talking about?”
“All I need is a boat, large enough for four people, provisions. . .” She smiled letting her voice trail off. “I would trouble you no longer; you would have Laporte all to yourself.”
A cunning smile lit up the too handsome features of Jules and he gazed at her appreciatively. “You are so right; it would be very easy but will take some arranging. I wouldn’t want Gaston to find out.”
“Of course not. It must be carefully planned—but hurry!”
“I will let you know.”
As he left a small seed of hope germinated inside Angela and she went back to her room rejoicing at the brainstorm that had led her to proposition Jules about helping them. Lying down on the bed she closed her eyes and a great weariness washed over her. There had been no summons to Laporte’s room last night and she had slept like one dead but she was still tired.
“I must pull myself together,” Angela told herself, “I have to get away.”
She woke just before dinner and hurried to dress. Her presence was required as hostess to the dozen or more pirates that were dining with Laporte tonight. How low she had sunk! Less than a year ago some of the most powerful men in England had coveted her, but she had been untouchable then. If Thurston Vaughn had known her one weakness he might be alive today and she would still be in England.
Her dress was of burgundy velvet and rubies winked on her throat and fingers and she reluctantly greeted the guests. Laporte stood by her side ignoring her while the others couldn’t tear their eyes from Angela. But they kept their distance, very much aware of what could happen to the man daring to touch Laporte’s new mistress. The story of her debut and Smith’s death was bandied about the islands freely, only enhancing both their reputations. In a society where corruption and daring were virtues Laporte led the pack.
Jules sauntered in with a smile on his face but it told her nothing. He did look immensely pleased with himself however. Could he have secured a boat already? Lord, she hoped so! Once off the island, away from Laporte, she would be able to breathe again, try and forget—if that was possible.
After the usual dinnertime discussion of cargos, ships, and routes the men got down to the serious business of drinking. Usually Laporte drank little but tonight he imbibed freely, leaning toward Jules. The two of them laughed and whispered and Laporte’s eyes took on a hard dangerous glint.
The blond youth was drunk already and Angela felt a qualm when he looked her full in the face and began laughing, unable to stop. Panic took over. Could Jules have told Laporte that she had tried to bribe him to help her escape? He wouldn’t! He wanted to get rid of her as much as she wanted to go.
She jumped as Laporte’s hand settled on her thigh, stroking gently. Tonight he would want her but the caresses would stop and he would take her like a beast, trying in every way he knew to hurt her. His fingers tightened and she made herself go limp. Struggling never helped but only incensed him more.
“Angela wants to make an announcement!” he told the brigands. Then lowering his voice he murmured, “Tell them what you are to me, what you delight in telling me every night.”
Jules had told him! Angela swallowed the lump of pure terror that rose in her throat. Never had Laporte treated her like this in public. This was his way of punishing her for what she had tried to do.
“Come, come, chérie.” The hand tightened until she wanted to scream. “Speak up!”
She opened her mouth but no words came out. Closing her eyes she tried again. “I am Gaston Laporte’s mistress,” Angela said, mimicking the words he forced out of her every night. “I’m his whore.”
“Bravo!” whispered Laporte. “Now invite them all upstairs to sample your charms. . .”
“No!” Angela protested digging her nails into his hand. “No!”
“All right. I won’t force the issue—this time. I’m glad to see you still have some spirit left.” He sounded amused. “I have a special surprise for you later tonight.”
Laporte turned his attention back to Jules and she sat in abject misery through the rest of the evening, trying not to think of later.
But later came as it always did and as Laporte escorted a reluctant Angela to his room he staggered, leaning on her and cursing. She had never seen him drunk and trembled to think of what havoc he might create in such a state. But maybe he would be too overcome by the alcohol to be able to function properly.
The door opened before her and a nervous giggle came from the huge bed. Laporte pushed her inside and it was then that she saw Jules, his magnificent sun-gilded body rising naked from the bed.
“Oh, no!” She turned to flee but Laporte brought her up short.
“I thought that I would share you tonight with my very loyal friend,” Laporte said slurring his words together. “Oh, yes, he told me all about your little conversation today and as a reward I arranged this—initiation party you could call it. You see, Jules has never had a woman before!”
“Please, Laporte,” Angela pleaded, all her hopes dashed to pieces. “Not this, please!”
“Yes, that’s right, chérie. Why don’t you grovel at my feet like you did last week.”
The ignominy of that reminder stiffened her resistance. They could do their worst before she would let them see her fear or shame.
Laporte shoved her toward the bed and Jules caught her deftly throwing her down, ripping the dress to shreds.
“She has the most mysterious mark on her derrière, Jules; I’ll have to show it to you when you get all her clothes off. A brand with her husband’s initials. She must have been a slut then too!”
Angela fought both of them fiercely using her nails and teeth, kicking at their most vulnerable parts. But it was useless since they quickly overpowered her and pinned her to the bed.
Jules had the honor of raping her first and he did it in the only way he knew, sodomizing her until she was half fainting from his attack.
They used her viciously for half the night drinking wine in between and laughing at their accomplishments. They were drunk, complimenting each other on how clever they were and the words barely penetrated Angela’s benumbed mind.
“Look at her—dead to the world and we have only begun,” said Jules downing some more wine. They drank right from the bottle now not bothering with the delicate glasses. “She needs more peine forte et dure!”
“If her husband could only see her now,” croaked Laporte, his eyes lit from within by a fanatical glow. “The great D
uke of Brightling and his whore of a wife! What revenge! I couldn’t reach him but I got the next best thing, his wife and his children. When he finds out what I’ve done to them. . .” He gave way to paroxysms of laughter. “This is better than killing him for what he did. I have his family! The most precious thing an Englishman possesses.”
“What happens when you get the ransom?”
“They will be of no use to me any more. We’ll use them as shark bait, but first we will have a little fun with the children.”
“And make her watch,” suggested Jules.
The horrendous words drove like sharp needles into Angela’s brain. He had lied! His promise meant nothing and all her pain and anguish meant nothing. The threats of the past would be carried out by the dirty little Frenchman!
Everything was coming together now, making up a picture that grew clearer with each passing minute. Scott had scarred Laporte, almost killed him during the first attack on the Dark Lady. That was why Laporte had repeatedly attacked the ship—to avenge himself on the man that had crippled him. The third time had been his lucky day, capturing not only the vessel but Angela and the children as well.
From the very beginning he knew what the ending would be, subtly playing on all of Angela’s fears and dragging her into the plot. And at the proper moment she had fallen into his bed like a ripe apple shaken from a carefully cultivated tree.
Now she knew but what would she do? Anything, her mind screamed, to escape from this demented killer. She could never let Robert and Lorna fall into his evil clutches. Tell Ezra. Yes, that was it. She must let him know and help her decide. Everything was so fuzzy, she could hardly move but she must tell Ezra.
Angela’s slight movement caught Laporte’s eye and he put the bottle down and rolled onto her limply sprawling body. There was no fight left in her now.
“Whore!” he told her and she moaned at the new hurt he was inflicting on her. “The next time my friends come to dinner you will entertain all of them. They won’t be as gentle as we were, will they, Jules?”
“Hurry up, Gaston,” whined Jules watching the entwined figures on the bed. “I want her again too. Look, I am ready.”
“You young stallion,” laughed Laporte. “I’ve just started—but wait.”
Holding her tightly he rolled over, still a part of her, until she was lying full length on him.
“Be inventive, Jules. Have you ever thought to have a woman at the same time as another man? Their unique anatomy makes it quite possible!”
His hands touched her buttocks and she felt his weight crush down on her. It was then that she began screaming as both of them moved—two beasts tearing her to pieces.
Ezra was jerked awake by the screams echoing down the hallway. It was Angela, it could be no one else. In the weeks she had been Laporte’s mistress there had been no complaints, no sounds or cries for help. He must be murdering her! He started down the hall only to be brought up short by the promise. Damn the promise! But her words pounded in his ears: The children come first, never leave them alone no matter what you see or hear. . .even if I beg you to help me.
He was torn in two. His heart propelled him toward the source of her cries; his conscience told him no, remember the promise; his mind damned him for a fool.
“Ezra?” Sleepy-eyed Lorna stood in the doorway to her room looking small and defenseless in her white nightgown. “What is happening?”
The screams went on and on. But how could he explain to a child? He picked her up and took her back into the room closing the door against the terror of the night.
“Go back to sleep,” he soothed. “It is only a dream—”
“No,” Lorna protested. “He’s hurting my mother—make him stop!” Tears welled up out of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks and that decided him. Angela was right—the children first.
Consciousness was pain so Angela let herself slip back toward the beckoning blackness that was a blessing. But something brought her up short; Lorna, Robert—they needed her as they never had before.
She opened her eyes slowly to the faint predawn glow and even that hurt her eyes and seemed to jolt through her whole body. She tried to move but her bones had turned to jelly and then she saw the wine bottles strewn over the carpet, one broken with the drops still clinging to the green glass—the color of blood. Even the disgrace of the night crashing down on her seemed distant because of the plot that had been revealed.
They were going to hurt her babies—torture them and throw them to the sharks the way they had Angus. Red water boiled before her eyes, fins cutting the surface and a spark of life energized her.
Through a veil of crimson fury Angela got off the bed and stood leaning on the bedpost looking at the degraded monsters who threatened the existence of something more important than her life. Pure instinct took over and she couldn’t have stopped herself if she tried. Bending down she picked up a bottle feeling the slick stickiness of the blood between her thighs. But that didn’t matter, nothing mattered but her children.
Raising her arm she brought the bottle smashing down on the gilt head, the shattered glass green against the sudden welling of scarlet. The neck of the bottle was still firmly clenched in her fingers, great jagged edges glinting in the half light.
Laporte was sprawled on his back, head thrown back, snoring loudly, oblivious to the destruction being wrought. The light gleamed on his neck urging Angela onward.
There was a buzzing in her ears as she walked around the bed and stood momentarily gazing down at the pirate who had turned her into a whore and murderess. The sharp-edged bottle flashed swiftly cutting easily into the unprotected flesh of his neck. Laporte jerked, a sickening gurgle taking the place of his snores. Instantly the blood spurted from his neck and mouth like red-hot lava from an erupting volcano bathing Angela in the spray.
Ezra sat with his back to the children’s door. Sleep had been impossible and if anyone wanted to get at the children they would have to go through him first. A rustle sounded in the hall—or had he imagined it? Getting to his feet he strained to see in the dim light.
Angela walked toward him like a somnambulist, stark naked and dripping with blood. There was part of a bottle clutched in one hand trailing red drops behind her. Ezra was so shaken that for a moment he froze, sure she was bleeding to death.
“I killed Laporte.” Her voice was completely without emotion. “He was going to kill my children.”
Angela’s eyes fastened on him desperately pleading, wide with terror. Ezra caught her as she pitched forward in a dead faint.
He carried her into the bedroom and put her gently on the bed, his mind working feverishly as he examined her to make sure she was not hurt. If what she said was true they had to get away immediately. There was no time to spare because as soon as the word was out they would be as good as dead. It was only Laporte’s blood on her and he felt relieved but what the pirate had done to her was not pretty.
Minutes flew by, too precious to waste. Grabbing a blanket he flung it over Angela and grabbed her nightgown off the chair. They would need a head start and he had to see that they got one. Dunking the nightgown in the tub of water she hadn’t used last night Ezra wrung it out: He locked her in and then carefully mopped up the trail of blood from her room to Laporte’s with the damp cloth.
The door was partially open and one glance at the gory mess on the bed convinced him she had told the truth. Jules too! Taking the key from inside the lock he closed it, locked it from the outside and pocketed he key. After the wild night the slaves would probably leave Laporte undisturbed all day—he hoped.
Birds sang in the courtyard heralding the morning, urging Ezra to hurry before the household was astir. It took him a full fifteen minutes to bring Angela around and then she was in a daze. Depositing her in the cold bath with instructions to hurry he went to wake the children.
When he returned with the children in tow Angela was dressed, her wet hair coiled into a knot at the back of her head. Her face was white in
stark contrast to the darkening bruise on her cheek and her red bitten lips. Huge dark circles were smudged beneath her reddened eyes.
“I have the pardon,” she said. “What else?”
“Bring your jewelry—we’ll need it if we make it off this island!”
She gave him a ghost of her old smile. “You are always rescuing my jewelry!”
“And this time you. I shouldn’t have let it go this far!” Ezra’s voice grew reproachful. “You should have confided in me.”
Angela dumped the contents of the jewel box into a scarf and knotted it. Her eyes swept the room that had been her prison for almost two months and she wasn’t sorry to leave. If only she could forget what had happened, erase it from her mind like wiping a slate clean. It wouldn’t be easy but she would have to try.
Concentrate on now, she told herself, they had to keep their wits about them and make good their escape before the bodies were discovered. Picking up a groggy Robert she nodded to Ezra and followed him out of the room.
They used the back way out of the house and the guards were not in sight. Probably snoring in the bushes beside an empty rum bottle, she mused, putting one foot in front of the other with great difficulty. The night had taken a severe toll on her and she was functioning on pure nerve—and fright.
Ezra carried a huge bundle and they made their way through the scrub brush as the day dawned clear. They would need fair skies on their journey on the flimsy raft.
The sky was the color of raspberries and the distorted curve of the sun appeared, wavering on the ocean. A flock of gulls took flight and Angers of light streaked upward from behind a cloud.
Angela put Robert down and took his hand as the small party hurried toward the beach. In the tangled vegetation Ezra began tearing aside branches and palm fronds, small bushes flew in every direction. Not to be left out of the excitement Robert then Lorna joined in and in a matter of minutes the raft was revealed.
Angela looked uncertainly from the raft to Ezra and back again, pressing a shaking hand to her head. It was so tiny and the sea so vast. No more than six feet square, it was made up of logs, discarded rum barrels, and bamboo all lashed tightly together with stout ropes.
Across Captive Seas Page 31
