Emeline blinked. ’Twas the man in the market who had rescued her from the horse and wagon.Two chains hung about his neck. An onyx cross dangled from one and from the other, an emblem that looked like a sun. Dark hair hung in waves to his shoulders while a black pearl glistened from his right earlobe. Upon seeing her, his lips curved slightly beneath a thin mustache that matched the black stubble on his chin.
Every nerve tightened in both anger and fear at his insolence.
She recognized two of the other pirates as those who had been with him at the market. The fourth was an older man with gray hair and beard, who carried a satchel.
“What ye goin’ t’ do wit her?” The man with a gray bandana on his head plucked a pipe from his mouth and gestured toward her.
“Yes, indeed,” the older man huffed with disgust. “Are we to add kidnapping of innocent women to your list of crimes?”
The captain shrugged, staring at her as if examining a new toy. “Possibly. Though I have no intention of keeping her.”
Emeline gulped. Was she to be freed or killed? Or worse, sold? Young white women brought quite a large sum from the right buyer.
“Let’s see to that, then?” The older pirate gestured toward the captain, and only then did she see blood on his waistcoat. So, one of the shotshadstruck him. Good. He deserved it.
After shrugging out of his waistcoat, he tore his shirt over his head and plopped down in a chair. Blood trickled from a wound on his shoulder, but that wasn’t what drew her gaze. ’Twas the powerful muscles that rippled over his chest and arms, much like those of her father and brother. Yettheirstrength was contained within a case of honor and humility that kept the power in check. This man’s apparently had no limits.
Shifting her gaze away, she examined the other pirates. The one with the slight French accent and dark features wore a blue doublet richly embellished with gold braid, over which tumbled a ruffled cravat. The other pirate—the one with the pipe dangling from his lips and the bandana around his head—bore so many weapons that ’twas a wonder he could walk at all, while the third man was missing an arm below the elbow and looked as though he hadn’t bathed in years. A charming lot, but what did she expect?
The monkey finished his fruit and smiled at her. At least it appeared to be a smile before he leapt onto his captain’s shoulder.
Her mouth ached. The rag had soaked up all her spit, and she started to gag. But no one paid her any mind.
The older pirate finished wrapping the captain’s wound. “Shot went through. It will heal nicely.”
“Thank you, Sam.” The captain stretched his shoulder back and forth. Rising, he grabbed his shirt and flung it over his head. “Rummy, set a course south by southwest. Maston, all canvas to the wind. Finn, you have the helm. Alert me if you see any sails in our wake.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” The man he called Finn gave a salacious wink. “An’ jist what will ye be doin’?” he asked on his way out.
The older gentleman packed up his satchel and left, shaking his head, while the Frenchman, Maston, gave her a flash of brows above a lecherous glance as he headed for the door.
Leaving her alone with the vicious kidnapping pirate and his grinning monkey.
A lump of terror formed in her throat. She’d swallow it down if she had any saliva left. The captain stared at her a moment, assessing her as one would a slave he’d just purchased. He slowly approached.
She wanted nothing more than to dart into the nearest corner, scoot under the cot she now saw clearly in the light, or dive into the massive oak chest and slam the lid shut. Instead, she remained still. As still as she could on the shifting deck.
“Let’s get this out.” He stood within inches of her, his smell of blood and the sea filling her nostrils as he reached up and carefully pulled the cloth from her mouth.
Emeline bent over, coughing and hacking and gasping for air. This seemed to upset the monkey, for he started to squawk loudly from his spot on the back of a nearby chair.
“Apologies for the rough treatment, Miss.” Plucking a knife from his belt, he spun her around and sliced the ropes around her wrists.
“Is that what you call it?” Emeline managed to squeak out as she gripped her throat.
Moving to his desk, he grabbed two glasses and filled them from a nearby bottle, then returned and handed her one. “This will help soothe your throat.”
She rubbed the sores on her wrists as the sting of rum bit her nose. “I do not partake of spirits.”
He cocked his head, a look of surprise traveling across his emerald eyes. “Pity, that.” Then with a shrug, he gulped down both glasses and set them on his desk. Spinning around, he held out his hand, palm up. “Now, the Ring, if you please?”
The monkey mimicked his master’s gesture and held out his paw, grinning at her.
Had the world gone mad? Emeline could only stare at them both, confusion joining her fear. “I beg your pardon?” Forcing back tears, she lifted a silent prayer for strength. “Please, Sir, return me to my home. I am of no value to you.”
“Indeed. But you have something of great value to me.”
“I have nothing you could possibly want.”
