Their gazes held. They did not speak again. There was nothing to say. Even if they could find the courage to kill themselves before the pirates plundered the ship and captured them, they had no weapons with which to do so. There was nothing for them to do, then, but be brave and await their fate.
An hour later it began. Someone tried to open the door to their cabin. When he failed, he called out in a foreign tongue. Katherine and Juliet did not speak, did not move, did not even breathe for fear of being detected. The intruder stomped away.
Both girls were now dressed, having realized that they had no wish to be captured in their nightclothes. Juliet turned to Katherine. “He was speaking Gaelic. Could he be Irish? Or was he a Scot?”
“I am not sure,” Katherine said unsteadily. Suddenly tears formed in her eyes. “If you think the fact that I am Irish will spare us if they are Irish, you are wrong. Pirates are not loyal to anyone, Juliet, except themselves, surely you know that.”
“Sssh!! He is coming back!”
The girls froze, arm in arm, as two men spoke to each other outside their door. And then an object was banged upon the door and wood splintered. The blade of an ax appeared through the shredded wood.
Katherine pulled Juliet closer. She was older than her friend and somehow she felt responsible for her. She would protect Juliet if she could. But her knees were still horribly weak, and her legs were shaking.
A hand darted through the wood and the bolt was shoved aside. The door burst open. Two seamen in black breeches and plain tunics burst into the room. They were huge men, carrying swords and wearing daggers, their weapons and clothing splotched with blood. The pirates froze, surprised to see the girls.
Then they exchanged glances. One of them was huge and baldheaded, and he stepped forward, his gaze going from Katherine to Juliet and then back to Katherine again. Katherine stepped in front of Juliet. She and the bald pirate stared at one another. Katherine was tensed, awaiting his lecherous assault. But it never came.
He only spoke to the other pirate, and when he did, he spoke in Gaelic, which Juliet could not understand but Katherine could. He said, “We’ll bring them above to the captain. He’ll be pleased with this.”
Katherine’s heart was in her mouth, beating a mile a minute. “Who is your captain?” she asked with false bravado. “I demand to see him immediately!”
If the seaman was surprised that she had understoodhim and spoke Gaelic herself, he did not show it. “Don’t fret, lass. The captain is waiting to meet you.”
Katherine took Juliet’s hand, hoping to give her courage to face their impending ordeal, but then the pirates separated them, each man grabbing one of the girls. Katherine cried out, attempting to jerk free of her captor, but he took her elbow firmly in his hand. And he pulled her forward and into the narrow hall and up the stairs, Juliet following with the other man.
Katherine gasped when they stepped out upon the deck. It was unnaturally still. But the pirates were everywhere, clad in their short breeches, wielding their long swords. She saw that the French crew were all in irons, and that several of the men had been wounded, perhaps seriously. Sir William Redwood and his men were also bound in manacles and under guard. Sir William appeared unhurt and furious. But relief filled his eyes when he saw that the girls were still unharmed.
Katherine’s gaze swept the deck. Part of the stern had suffered from the fire, the wooden deck charred and blackened, smoke still hanging in the air. Sections of the ship’s railing had been destroyed as well. One of the largest masts had been shorn in two, and lay like a huge broken tree across half of the middle decks, the great canvas sail forming puffy piles around it. And then when she gazed at the topmost deck, she saw him.
Without being told, she knew that he was the master of these pirates.
Katherine stared, her heart beating madly. He stood on the forecastle in pale hose and thigh-high black boots, a loose white linen shirt, its laces open, fluttering about him. He was a huge man, far taller than Katherine, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, long and powerful of leg. His hair was gold, cropped short, and it was brighter than the sun. He had one hand on his sheathed sword and he stood easily, riding the ship the way the ship rode the swells of the sea. He surveyed the deck below him as if he surveyed his kingdom.
Katherine felt his power and saw his arrogance and shehated him for all he had done and for all he was about to do.
And then she realized that he surveyed her as well.
Across the charred deck, his cool questing eyes held hers. Katherine froze. Never in her life had she been more vulnerable. He stared, and between them she felt an invisible tightening, as if a powerful cable was being winched tight and tighter still. Katherine could not breathe.
Slowly, he smiled. And she felt as if she were some pitiful earthbound hare and he the great gyrfalcon, slowly circling above her, preparing himself for the kill.
Katherine dug in her heels as the sailor abruptly propelled her forward, toward him, and marched her across the decks. “No,” she said, raw panic chasing away any show of courage which she might make. Raw panic, and raw fear.
The golden pirate watched her, no longer smiling.
“No,” Katherine cried again, balking like a mule.
With the slightest inclination of his golden head, he signaled his sailor and the man jerked her forward and hauled her up the set of steps to the deck where he stood. The boat was rocking and Katherine was weak, not just with terror, but from the terrible ordeal of withstanding the long battle, and when the sailor released her, her knees finally gave way and she sank down onto the deck at the pirate’s feet.
Katherine gripped the wooden floorboards, willing herself to rise, but her body would not obey and she could do no more than look up.
He gazed down at her from his incredible height. The wind whipped a few short gold curls away from his stunning face, revealing high, hard cheekbones, a strong, determined jaw, and an arrow-straight, finely chiseled nose. The wind did not cease, pushing at his loose, open shirt, molding it against his body. A wide swath of his broad, bronzed chest was revealed by his open laces, while the fine linen fabric outlined the length of his torso, his concave stomach, and the narrowness of his hips. The fluttering of his shirt also revealed the very heavy bulge of his manhood between his thighs. Katherine sucked in her breath, praying he was one of those fops who still wore a codpiece. If not, he would kill her when he raped her.
Glinting gray eyes met her gaze—and Katherine could not look away.
“I am Liam O’Neill,” he said, his smile hard and satisfied. “The captain of this ship.”
Katherine could not respond—could not remove her gaze from his.
