Skye grated her teeth and gripped the ladder. Logan’s men had crawled up before her, and Logan himself was behind her. She looked longingly back to the sea.
Logan’s knife prodded her rump. “No swimming, my love. Remember, we’ve been this road before!”
Arms reached down for her and his men dragged her aboard. She landed in a heap upon the deck, the cloak drawn around her. Logan crawled over the railing and looked down at her, smiling.
“Here we are, my love, alone at last. Well, not alone.” He lifted an arm, indicating the many men of his crew, pirates in all manner of dress, some in the rigging, one climbing to the crow’s nest, one at the helm, and gunners as ease, their breeches and shirts blackened by powder.
Logan took a step toward her. “But alone enough. Away from the Hawk.” He reached out his good hand to her. “Come. Come on, milady. Take my hand. You see, love, you and I are going to await the good Hawk. We’re going to await him together.”
XVIII
In the whole of her life, Skye had never been so frightened. No darkness surrounded her now, but rather Logan’s ship was ablaze with lanterns against the darkness of the night, and of the sea. Perhaps it seemed that the very creature of her nightmares had stepped forth from the darkness to meet her in the light, and the face of fear was far uglier in light than it could ever be in shadow. Logan threatened all that mattered in life. He threatened her father, he threatened Roc, and he very definitely threatened her person, and did so at that very moment.
She stared at his hand. She knew that she would never take it.
“Get up!” he bellowed. “Come—to me!”
She hesitated. Then she leaped to her feet with speed and agility, racing past Logan across the deck.
“Stop her!” Logan ordered. “She’ll jump!”
She would have jumped; it was her whole intent. She would rather face a shark or any monster of the blue depths than face Logan.
But his men were quick and agile, too. She had just reached the railing when her cloak was seized from behind, and she was dragged back, spinning into the arms of a black-toothed hearty. He laughed, enjoying her discomfort. Skye faced him, and carefully smiled in return. She was thrust against him. She inhaled the filth of his body and the reek of rum upon his breath, but she endured the horror for the sake of freedom. He did not know just how far she was willing to go to achieve her freedom, and so he was totally unprepared when she drew his sword from the scabbard at his side.
“Damme!” the man swore.
“Fool!” Logan raged. “Seize her, take her! She cannot best you all! By God, I thought I had men on this ship!”
She could not best them all, Skye knew that. But she spun away from the pirate who had stopped her plunge into the sea and backed herself to the railing again. The pirates surged toward her, but they were forced to take care. She parried their steel swiftly and desperately, aided by Logan’s next bellowed order.
“I need her alive! Idiots! What good will she be against the Hawk if she lies dead!”
Two of her attackers backed away. Skye eyed them warily, and they watched her like sharks, waiting for her to blink, to drop her guard for a single second.
“Ahoy, Captain Logan!” someone cried. “A ship approaches!”
Logan’s attention was temporarily distracted. “The Hawk!” he called, savoring the words.
“Nay, sir, I think not. Or perhaps it is! ’Tis Blackbeard, sir, I can see him standing toward the bow!”
“Then the Hawk is with him!” Logan said. “I need the girl! Now!”
Skye was already crawling up atop the railing. She screamed when she was caught by the hair and thrown down hard to the deck. She looked up, gasping for breath. It was Logan himself. She still held her sword. She lifted it in a definite threat.
“You want to fight, little girl?” he demanded. “All right, then, we will fight! Toss me my sword, gents! Someone toss me my sword.”
A blade swirled through the air and landed at his feet. Skye feinted toward him as he reached for the weapon, but he was quick, and he was good. He lunged toward her, and it was all that she could do to evade the heavy thrust.
“Milady, have to!” Logan cried. He attacked and she parried, and he attacked again, and she parried once again. His men backed away now as they fought, and she thought that she knew why. Logan didn’t believe that she could really kill him. She was good, very good. But she didn’t have his strength or stamina, and if he kept a fair distance, he would eventually wear her down.
She could not let him do so.
He smiled at her as they fought. “Milady! Your cleavage is showing!”
She smiled in turn, aware that the cloak gaped open, then it spun and flew as she fought. She could not seek modesty now. Logan hoped to unnerve her with that ruse.
“Does it, sir?” she inquired, undaunted. Their swords clashed hard and the momentum brought them together, face-to-face. He reached out as if to touch her with his hook and she cried out, flinging herself away. She leaped toward the mainmast, and kept it to her back. When Logan charged, she quickly sliced the air.
