He was ready to pull back the drapes when a sound behind him caught his attention. He spun on his heels in time to see the object of his search coming at him with a large kitchen knife. As barefooted Francine lifted her weapon, the man gripped her wrist and twisted it hard. Francine hung on to the knife in spite of the pain and with the kind of strength only a person in terror can find, she pushed the blade closer to the man’s chest.
Alexis forced herself to watch the action without making a sound. She knew if she screamed it would only attract the others, denying Francine all chance of winning, and because there was nothing she could do the struggle seemed to go on forever.
The seaman’s foot caught Francine’s ankle and she lost her balance. They both fell to the floor, the knife wedged between them. The man stood up and staggered back against the wall, his eyes wide and horror-filled. His chest was crimson. He looked down at Francine, then over to Alexis.
“Oi never killed a woman before,” he said, the words strangling in his throat. “Oi didn’t wan’ ta kill ’er.”
Alexis looked from his blood-soaked shirt to the cause of it. Francine was lying motionless on the carpet, the knife firmly embedded in her chest. Alexis thought she detected the slightest smile on Francine’s face and she looked back at the horrified seaman.
“I think you had better kill me also,” she said without emotion. “Or I will kill you.”
The sailor stared at those amber eyes, and they held him motionless for a moment. He was suddenly afraid of the beautiful girl who sat without moving in the chair into which he had thrown her.
Brusquely he walked toward her and yanked her out of the chair. He led her outside, wanting only to get out of the house and into a position where he felt in charge.
Alexis gasped when she saw what was happening out there. The two men who had tried to help were both bound now, so Alexis assumed they were alive, but unconscious. Pauley was tied to one of the portico columns. His shirt had been torn up the back and Travers was issuing the order to begin the flogging.
The captain stopped when he saw the girl and his man come out of the house. “I thought I told you to leave her in there! Where’s the other woman?”
“She’s dead. She came after me. Oi ’ad ta defend meself.” He looked at Alexis when he said his next words. “It was an accident. Oi didn’ wan’ ta kill ’er.”
Travers said something to him that he did not hear. He only had ears for Alexis as she said softly, but with an edge of hardness that gave meaning to her words, “It doesn’t matter, sailor.”
The British captain turned his attention back to Pauley. “You asked for this. You refused to answer my—”
Alexis broke in. “He doesn’t know the answers!” she screamed. “He doesn’t know who those men are! Wait until they wake up and ask them yourself!”
“I believe you,” Travers said. “But that’s only part of the reason this man is being punished. He attacked an officer of His Majesty’s Navy and for that I could have him killed.”
“Then do it,” Pauley answered. He stared at Alexis, telling her that he was not afraid to die and that she should not interfere.
But death was not what Travers had in mind. He still needed men for his ships. Getting the ships would present no problem now, with Quinton dead, but he could use a strong man like Pauley on board. Not on his ship, of course. That was to invite death, but he could be valuable on board another. The lashes that were about to be delivered would make him more cooperative. Travers had not encountered many men who, once they had experienced fifty strokes, ever came back for more. If they lived, most of them were terrified at the threat.
Alexis did not take her eyes from Pauley as Travers gave the order.
Cloud opened his eyes. His brain was foggy and his vision blurred. He tried to move and realized he had been tied. He looked over at Landis who was just beginning to stir. The seamen standing over them were not interested in their movements. Their eyes were trained on a sight in front of them and when Cloud looked in that direction he had to fight the waves of nausea that assailed him.
The man tied to the support had easily received two dozen lashes and still Travers was ordering his man to inflict more. Cloud could not tell if the girl’s husband had already passed out. He was not moving or crying out, but sometimes that was no proof. Cloud remembered he had taken almost that many before oblivion set in. He turned away from the man’s bloody back to the girl, standing motionless on the porch. Her gaze suddenly shifted from Pauley to Travers, and Cloud thought then, that if eyes could inflict death, she had just murdered Travers mercilessly.
He watched, helpless, as Alexis broke from her captor’s grip and ran to Travers. She threw herself at his feet and begged him to stop the flogging. Bile rose in Cloud’s throat. He knew this girl wanted to do nothing but kill the man in front of her; yet she was forced to beg instead. It was harder to look on her face as she stilled her pride, than it was to see her husband’s raw and bleeding flesh. This was an anniversary she would always remember.
“Captain Travers! Please! Stop! You’ll kill him! Don’t make him suffer anymore!” Her voice was soft as the whip was sharp. “You’ve had your revenge! Leave him alone!”
Travers ignored her and kicked her out of the way. “Quiet, girl, or you’ll be feeling the lash next.”
Alexis stood up. Her muscles tensed and she clenched her fists behind her back. She glared at Travers once more, allowing him to see the full extent of her hatred. He laughed at her and ordered his man to continue. Alexis was not shocked by his laughter, only his stupidity. At least the man who had murdered Francine knew that she spoke the truth about killing him. Travers was a fool to believe anything else was possible.
But not now, Alexis thought. Now she had to save Pauley. Travers would be hers later.
If she lived.
Alexis ran to Pauley and threw herself across his bloody back. The front of her dress and the curve of her breasts were immediately soaked with his blood. The man holding the whip did not have time to check his movement and the stroke intended for Pauley caught Alexis across her back, tearing her shift and drawing a small, thin line of red. The seaman dropped his whip, intending to pull Alexis from Pauley and continue the punishment, but his captain stopped him.
“If that’s what she wants,” he said as he picked up the whip, “then she may have it. He has thirteen lashes left, girl. They’re yours now.”
Cloud’s features hardened as Alexis’s hands were untied and retied around the man she was trying to protect. He heard Landis wince as her shift was ripped open from her neck to her waist.
“It seems a shame to mark such beautiful skin,” Travers said as he ran his rough hand down her naked back. He raised his hand to strike the first blow but hesitated when he saw his men turning away. He yelled at them. “She wants this! If it hadn’t been for her, none of this would have happened.” It was a lie. He knew it and his men knew it, but they also knew that if they turned away they would be at the wrong end of his whip soon. They steeled themselves and watched.
