“Do you think your disagreement delayed yourfather and saved his life?”
The woman had given him possibilitieshadgiven him hope. He owed her a debt of gratitude.By God, if Iever get free of this hellhole, I’ll go back home and do whatevermy father demands.
He heard voices above. The hatch above wasthrown open. “Dinner time.” Damiano lowered a bucket to the womanon the other side of the wall. “I should come down and help youeat? Eh,senhorita?”
Like his sister, Abby, his fellow prisonerwas a woman without protection. “Leave her alone, swine.”
“Insolent dog. You will be sent deep insidethe jungles of Brasilia where you will die toiling in the hottropical sun. Impossible to escape.” Damiano hurled the contents ofa bucket on Nicholas and slammed the grate. “Eat like a swine, yourlordship. There won’t be any more until tomorrow.”
Nick wiped cold suet and watery rice off hisshoulder. He doubted if any of it was edible. A rat scurried overhis boot intent on the garbage. Nicholas kicked the offendingrodent.
“I fear Damiano,” the woman said. “He isworse than the captain,” said his fellow prisoner.
Nicholas grunted and peered through thehole, but the fading gray light, filtering from above kept histraveling companion obscure.
She shoved her fist through the opening,unfolded a hand of food. “Eat. Keep up your strength. Toescape.”
“In the middle of the Atlantic?” He scoffed.Ridiculous. But she was right about needing strength…for wheneverthe time came. He took the proffered food, and then eating, he sankinto a sea of silence.
The words, degrading and dehumanizing, weresomething he preferred not to think about, reminding him of thefilthy wretch he’d become. His clothes were torn by hiscaptors.
He wrinkled his nose at a stink that rivaledthe worst of London’s sewers. The lack of water to wash and severalweeks’ growth of beard was far from the cleanliness to which he wasaccustomed. His valet would have an opinion.
To escape, she’d said.Prettytransparent, it was…trying to jerk him from sinking intodespondency. She did not know despair had no chance with him.
Vengeance had emerged as his new master.
* * *
Alexandra Sutherland shivered in thedarkness. Hours passed since they had spoken. “Lord Rutland, haveyou wondered about the name of this ship and its crewmate?Santanasmeans Satan. Damiano means to kill.”
“You know Portuguese?”
The mockery in his voice set her teeth onedge.Thiefhad branded his thoughts. Let him think what hewanted. “I learned a little Portuguese at my employer’s.”
“And he is a thief, too?”
Stubborn, spoiled man.Certainly, nota Sir Galahad. Vicar Thompson was the gentle soul who had educatedher and far from a thief. “He was very giving toward me.”
“So, you stole for him and he offered you awarm bed.”
Heat rose to her face. “You insufferableclod. How dare you insinuate” She bit back the rest of the scathingwords on her tongue. She needed an ally, not an enemy. Taking adeep breath, she shoved more food through the hole again. If onlyshe could thrust it down his throat. “Be forewarned, you should notbite the hand that feeds you, andI refuse to answer any more ofyour provocations.”
“Provocation? A sophisticated word.Well-learned”
“For a thief? I read.”
He grunted his disbelief. “What did you readlast?”
Despite his antagonism, the deep timbre ofhis voice was like an eternal god, commanding denizens of theearth. As if she needed the sound of his voice to feel his verypresence taking up the space all around her.
No doubt he was intelligent and had beeneducated in the best of England’s schools. She gritted her teeth.With certainty, he considered her illiterate. “Something you shouldread.Common Sense.”
“You approve of the American, Thomas Paine’sclear and persuasive prose, inciting the common people of theColonies to revolt against the King?”
Clever to test her. Well, if he wanted achallenge… “I believe the author marshals moral and politicalarguments for an egalitarian government.”
He scoffed. “You agree with Paine’s claimthat a mind is a vessel not to be filled, but a fire to bekindled?”
