The Hawk reached for her hand, drawing her to her feet, his eyes deep and hard upon hers. “Mr. Arrowsmith will escort you to the cabin.” His voice lowered. “You needn’t fear. The lanterns are already lit.”
He did not wait for a reply but handed her over to Robert. Robert escorted her past the rigging and to the cabin door. “Good night, milady,” he said to her.
And the doors were closed and bolted. But as the Hawk had promised, two lanterns burned brightly, illuminating the water left for her to wash and the meal left for her upon the Hawk’s desk. She would never eat, she thought. But it had been endless hours since she had last eaten and she quickly realized that she was famished and that the stew left for her smelled wonderful.
She sat down. It was a fresh fish stew, she quickly realized, thick with potatoes and carrots. The bread at her side was fresh, too, and vermin free. With less than ladylike manners she set into it, and when she paused at last, she realized that she had consumed it all.
She hadn’t even bothered to pour herself some of the burgundy left for her. She did so then, reflecting on the night.
He would not hurt her. He had told her so. If she took care, she would be rescued soon enough.
If her father had the ransom, she thought dully.
Or if Lord Cameron was still willing to come to her aid.
She was only slightly tarnished.…
Restlessly, she stood. The food had been wonderful. It had left her with a sense of well-being. The wine was good, too. It went down well, and it eased away the fear and the pain. She was still so very tired.
She looked from the washbowl and French soap and sponge to the door, wondering when he would burst back in upon her. Nervously she dug into her trunk for a substantial nightdress, and even more nervously she set to the endless task of trying to undo her buttons. She let her dress fall to her waist and scrubbed her upper torso.
No one came to the door.
She slipped her nightdress over her shoulders and soaped and sponged her lower half, finishing with her feet. Then she breathed a sigh of relief, for no one had come.
She sat down and finished the wine. Still, no one disturbed her. The lanterns burned brightly, and she was at ease. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
Later, she tried to move, and she struck wood. Panic seized her. She was surrounded by darkness. She was locked into a small wooden space, and darkness surrounded her.
She could hear the screams.…
Stay! She had to stay!
But she could not. She could not remain in her prison and listen to the horrible screams!
She tried to scream herself, but the sound would not come. They had warned her not to make a sound, not to make a sound.…
It burst from her, the awful sound of her dream. There were hands upon her. They had found her. They had come for her, too. She scratched and fought furiously. They would kill her, without a second thought.
“Skye!”
There was light again, she realized. She blinked furiously, looking about herself. She was in his bed, beside him. She had banged against the paneling at the side of the bunk.
“It went out!” she cried. “The light went out.”
“Hush, I’m sorry.”
He held her, very tenderly. He was naked beneath the covers, she knew. His shoulders were bare and the hair upon his chest teased her cheek. He was a pirate, and she couldn’t care, she couldn’t even think about it. She lay against him, trembling and dazed. His hands soothed her, touching her hair, stroking her cheek. “It’s all right. I won’t let the light go out again. Ever.”
She kept trembling. His arms came more tightly against her and she buried her face against the strength of his broad chest.
“Don’t fight me, Skye. Lie still, lie easy. I won’t leave you and I won’t hurt you. Don’t fight me.…”
She had no thought to fight him that night. None at all. With a soft sob she curled against him. Slowly, her trembling eased. He whispered to her still. In time, her eyes closed. Then she slept, a dreamless, easy sleep.
He waited until that time. Then he uncurled the fingers that still tore into his flesh with terror. He smoothed them out, softly massaging her palms.
He gazed down upon her tearstained face, so fine in the web of her sunset hair.
