Logan and the Hawk.
This was, she knew, a duel, and a duel to the death. Neither man would leave this fray until one of them lay bleeding life away upon the decks.
Pray God that it would be Logan dead, Skye thought!
“You bastard, hold still!” Logan shouted. “Then I may skewer you through!”
“Skewer me? Why, sir, it seems that you cannot touch me!”
Logan bellowed at Roc’s words, leaping forward. Roc caught hold of the rigging and swung clear of the man’s lunge, turning swiftly to renew his own attack.
“She was sweet and wonderful!” Logan taunted, backing away.
“What?” Roc demanded quickly.
“I touched her, I had her, all of her. I held her taut and I let her scream, but I had her, deep and sweet and sure—”
“Lying bastard!” Roc roared, surging forward. It was the advantage Logan wanted. He lifted his sword to crack it down upon Roc’s shoulder with all of his might. Just at the last second, Roc dropped down and back, spinning about, reappearing on the other side of the mainmast.
“I’ll have your ears!” Logan called. “I’ll slice your ears and your toes and your privates, and I’ll stuff them down your own throat, and you’ll choke to death on your own flesh, knave!”
“You’ll have to best me to do it, rogue!” Roc retorted.
Logan looked up suddenly. He smiled, seeing Skye perched high upon the rigging. He suddenly lifted his sword and brought it hacking down hard upon the ropes.
“No!” Roc bellowed.
Skye screamed as the rope sagged and the wood beams could be heard to crack and shiver. She held tight, afraid to climb upward, afraid to climb down.
Someone knocked over a lamp. A fire caught in the forward section.
“So help me, by God, by the very devil! This night will be the end of you, Hawk!” Logan screamed.
“Abandon the bloody ship!” a voice raged out.
Skye’s heart sank. Her father!
“Roc!” she screamed. He paused, his gaze still warily upon Logan as he listened to her. “My father, Roc! He’s aboard! He’ll burn to death aboard this bloody death trap.”
He looked up at her, and smiled slowly. He looked out to the sea, then over to Logan. Logan started to laugh. “Ah, the Hawk is in trouble at last, is he? Save the girl, save the man—or slay me, and save his own hide!”
“Do you mind a bit of a swim, love?” Roc murmured.
She shook her head, frowning, having no idea of what he meant to do. Suddenly he lifted his own sword and hacked with a swift clean blow against the rigging. She couldn’t help but scream and hold tight as the mast seemed to sway and tottered with her and the rigging, then started plunging toward the sea.
She fell…fell and fell and fell, and felt the cold embrace of the water. She plunged downward, downward into darkness at first. There was nothing, nothing but the cold, nothing but the darkness. Her lungs were near bursting. She closed her eyes against the darkness, kicked with all her strength, and went shooting back up to the surface of the water again.
It seemed that all of the ship was ablaze. Men were screaming; men were leaping into the water. The night was alive with light, with activity, with shouts, and still, with the clang of steel.
Skye grabbed on to a floating log. The cloak had been dragging her down but she clung to it once she had the log; it seemed to offer her a certain warmth, sodden as it was. Or maybe the fire was warming up the water, she didn’t know.
Perhaps her heart and soul had gone so cold that she could not feel any ice external to herself. Her father and her husband remained aboard the ship, and it burned with an ever-wilder frenzy.
“Scurry, men! If you would. By God, see! There’s enemy sails afloat!” someone called out.
More cries broke out in the night. Longboats broke away in the night, but Skye didn’t try to reach any of the pirates. She would wait. She would hold tight to her log and…pray.
“Lady Cameron! Lady Cameron!” someone shouted to her.
