The horse slipped, stumbled, slid. Liam growled, cursed, and spurred the beast on. Tears streamed from Katherine’s eyes. The animal finally plunged into the sandy ground of the beach, hopping like a crow. A moment later Liam was on his feet, pulling her off the horse. His men came tomilling halts beside them. Katherine found it hard to stand in her exhaustion. She stumbled but Liam caught her.
Katherine turned her furious gaze upon him and swung both fists at his face. She managed to graze his cheek, but the punch did not seem to affect him, for his response was merely to grab both her wrists and jerk her once, a command to be still. He whispered orders to his men. More tears filled Katherine’s eyes. In her mind she cursed him again and again. Her shock was gone and she comprehended exactly what had happened—she had been abducted from her wedding bed!
Katherine saw the men approaching them. Like ghosts, they materialized from the sea. Behind their dark, barely formed shapes, she saw the shadows they dragged, shadows that she soon understood to be some half dozen boats.
Katherine sagged against Liam in despair. She thought she could just glimpse theSea Dagger’s huge sails, unfurled and flaccid, gleaming almost silver against the night. She was not going to be able to escape. In a few more minutes she would be on his vessel, and God only knew when he would decide to set her free.
And by then it would be too late.
Liam lifted her off her feet. Instinctively Katherine tried to push away from him, looking frantically back over her shoulder for any sign of pursuit, praying that, miraculously, she would see John emerging from the top of the cliffs. But nothing moved up there, nothing but the wind-driven trees. And moments later she was being heaved into the longboat.
But she could not give in; she could not. Knowing full well that her efforts were undoubtedly futile, as Liam climbed in, Katherine leapt up, intent on making one final attempt to escape.
And because she knew this would be the last time, the last chance, Katherine moved with incredible speed and an iron will. She was halfway over the side of the small boat when Liam realized what she intended. He lunged for her. Katherine felt the shock of the icy cold water as she plunged into the surf, but did not pause. Liam shouted at her, reaching for her, but only succeeded in grabbingher cloak. The wool spun off of her, leaving her more naked than not. Katherine did not care. She was too determined, and too incensed, to feel the bitter cold.
She ran toward the shore, tearing at the gag, but the knot was too tight. She heard him splashing behind her. She heard him coming closer and closer, and finally felt his boot clip her heel. Katherine dared to look backward. She saw a determination on his face that was far greater than her own. His expression was so fierce it was frightening, and in that moment Katherine knew her fate was forever sealed. That stunning knowledge sped her as nothing else could. But Liam caught her hand anyway, whipped her backward. Katherine fell against him, fighting wildly. And then they were both tumbling into the freezing cold sea.
For an instant she was free. She lunged to her feet but Liam wrestled her into his arms from behind, and a moment later she was again being tossed over his shoulder. Katherine pummeled his back mindlessly. He ignored her blows. “You have nowhere to run to, Katherine,” he told her, plowing his way through the rolling surf back to the bobbing longboat. “From this moment on, you belong to me.”
And Katherine was blinded by an intense feeling of hatred.
The longboat pulled alongside the pirate ship. Katherine sat shaking on the small slab seat, clutching the wool cloak to her cold body, the gag having been removed by Liam. He stood in front of her, reaching for the rope ladder. He turned to her, held out his hand.
Katherine’s glare was murderous. She did not take his hand. Instead, determined to defy him, even if it meant leaping to her death, she looked down at the black midnight sea. Could she do it?
The waters would mean the end of all her dreams. But she would have succeeded in escaping Liam O’Neill.
He cursed and pulled her to her feet. “You fool,” he rasped as he swung her a third time over his shoulder. Katherine realized what he intended at the same momentshe realized that she had no wish to die. “Put me down,” she shouted, twisting, “before we both die!”
“Keep fighting and we will get wet, but we will not die, Katherine,” Liam answered calmly.
She stilled mutinously. Hanging as she did, upside down, she was faced with the ominous black sea, which was far too close to her for comfort. She gripped his back, her heart moving into her throat, hating being afraid now, when she wished to fight. But with infinite ease, Liam climbed the ladder rapidly. He handed Katherine up to one of the many seamen waiting on the deck for them. Katherine was dropped to her feet. She began to breathe again.
Liam climbed over the rail and took her arm. Her gaze shot to his as she tried to yank herself free of his grip—to no avail. He propelled her forward. Katherine stumbled because of the rapid pace he set. She wished she could think of some truly horrible curse words. A moment later he was pushing her down the narrow stairs and into his cabin.
Refusing to look at her captor, Katherine stood panting in its center as he lit one taper after another. Her gaze darted to the bed. Oh, God.
Liam approached. Katherine turned slowly to face him, wary and alert. His face grave now, he reached for her soaking-wet cloak. Katherine jerked out of his reach and backed away from him, her eyes blazing. “Damn you to hell!”
He crossed his arms and regarded her without any expression. Surely she had imagined the concern she had just witnessed.
“You have ruined me!” Katherine cried. “I will never recover from this act—not ever!”
A twisted smile formed upon his features. “You will recover, Katherine; in fact, I am certain that your recovery will be quite rapid.”
Katherine clutched her cloak, which was very wet, to her body, too furious to be cold anymore. “You think to seduce me with your body? Not this time!”
“No?” He walked toward her. Katherine stiffened but did not move, and he towered over her. “What makes thistime any different from the last time we lay together—or the first?”
Katherine refused to remember the night of the masque at court, when he had pleasured her with his mouth and she had pleasured him with her hands. She refused to think of the first time, when he had kissed and caressed her, or the second time, when she had been bound to his bed, when he had cut off her clothes with his dagger. She would not remember any of those times—that was the past. “Because this time you have destroyed my dreams!” she shouted.
His eyes glittered. Katherine felt a frisson of fear and she tensed. “Do you love Hawke?” he asked, his tone conversational and completely at odds with the light in his eyes.
Knowing it would infuriate him, wanting to enrage him, wanting to best him, Katherine spit, “Yes!”
“Perhaps you are a whore after all,” he said harshly. “For I thought it was Leicester you loved.”
How his words hurt. Katherine was stricken by them; she turned stark white. She was shuddering now, not just because she was so icy cold, but because he was right, she was a whore. For despite it all, she knew what was going to happen in that bed, and she knew she was going to like every single moment of his attentions—even though she was now another man’s wife.
