“Don’t! Don’t do it!” The point of the hook lay against her jugular. Slowly, her breath escaped her. She could not scream.
He smiled slowly and idly drew the curve of his hook down the length of her throat to her collarbone, then taunting, a curious caress indeed, over the rise of her breast. The hook continued downward, dislodging her blanket, leaving her bare to his assessment. She bit down ever harder upon her lip to keep from panic. A scream rose and bubbled in her throat, but as his eyes returned to hers, she knew that he would not hesitate to slit her open with the weapon he wore upon his severed wrist.
“That’s right, love, quiet!” he whispered, and laughed. Something of regret passed over his eyes. “Milady, how I’d like you now, this very minute, alive and attuned to sensation by the most unique and tender stroke of my adoring…fingers. I’d like your Hawk to enter into his room and find you touched and filled by his dearest enemy. Alas! What a pity that I cannot do so.”
Relief escaped her in a long gasp. His smile, however, was not reassuring.
“Nay, lady, first I must take you to my ship. You are so concerned for your father, eh? Well, now, perhaps we should let the old man watch, too. That’s where we shall capture the Hawk for real, milady. And when we see that he is coming, that is when I shall have you, in bold light, upon the deck. You’ll feel the true kiss of this steel, my love, and he’ll know that I’ll use it against you in truth when I am done.”
“Perhaps he will not come,” Skye said.
“I think that he will.”
“But he won’t. You’ve seen him with me. He demands things because that is his way, but I’m nothing to him, not really. He’s women everywhere, what is one more, or one less?”
Logan sat back on his haunches, his eyes alight with a leering humor. His hook raked around the fullness of her breast as he answered, “Lady, you are worth your weight in gold. That was long ago decided. You are worth even more to me. He will live to rue the day that he caused me to wear this hook. Now, get up!”
He stood, and reached down with his good hand, wrenching her to her feet. His eyes assessed the length of her in the shadows, and she had never felt more violated. From the doorway, she felt his men, staring at her, too.
She jerked her hand free. “I cannot come like this!” she told him. “Let me dress.” She bent down to retrieve the tattered remnants of her dress. Logan’s foot fell upon the material. “We haven’t time,” he said harshly. “Morgan, toss her the cloak.”
A woolen garment fell her way. Skye retrieved it quickly, grating her teeth as she quickly slipped the scratchy wool cape around her shoulders. She drew it close about her and stared at Logan again, waiting.
He bowed deeply to her. “My dear?”
She passed him by. The two men at the doorway stepped aside, opening the door for her. They were all behind her.
Skye quickly stepped out the doorway of the little shanty.
Fires still burned upon the sand, warmth against the night and the sea breezes. There was no music, though, no one danced. Men and women still lay sprawled about, but they lay in sleep, some snoring, some dead to the world in drunken stupors.
Logan, she thought, had no more than the two men with him. They were all behind her.
She hurried down the few steps to the sand, screamed as loudly as she could, and started to run.
“Catch her, you fools!” Logan shouted.
She didn’t know where to go, nor did it matter. She couldn’t possibly have navigated a course in the darkness.
And it was dark. Away from the fires, the night closed in. The sky met the sea, and the wilderness beyond the beach. There were more shanties, more ramshackle and makeshift homes and buildings.
Roc would be within one, she thought. Bargaining with Blackbeard.
But where?
She couldn’t pause to determine that fact, she had to run. “Help me! Help me! Someone, for the love of God, help me!” she shrieked.
There were various stirrings about, but few heeded her cries.
The pirates were accustomed to hearing pleas for mercy—and equally accustomed to ignoring them, Skye thought bleakly.
She whirled around. Logan’s men were almost upon her.
She was losing time, racing around the shanty buildings on the beach. They could trap her that way. They were trying to do so right then, she thought. “Take her! Take her from the left!” one of them cried, and another waved, running around to encircle the building.
Skye screamed again, and turned to flee toward the beach.
Her legs flying, she raced past the platform where Blackbeard had held his pirates’ court that day. She went onward, seeing that a startled Leticia stood upon the steps to the shanty where she had spent the day. “Tell the Hawk!” Skye screamed.
