Then she saw his left hand, or the very lack thereof. A deadly-looking hook protruded from his coat sleeve.
He aimed his pistol straight at the Frenchman. Without a sound or a word of warning, he fired.
Skye screamed with horror as the Frenchman went down in a pool of blood. She stared at the fallen man, frozen.
The hook-armed pirate crawled aboard. She had the Frenchman’s cutlass. She needed to lunge quickly and fight. She needed to make the attack. It was her only hope. She raised her sword.
The hook-handed pirate looked past her, allowing his smile to deepen. “My pet, but you are sweeter than gold!” he said softly, and then he nodded.
Skye swung around, but too late. She barely saw the man who had come up behind her. There was a blur, and then nothing more. She was struck upon the head, and the world faded as she fell. The last thing she saw was the blood seeping over the deck. Then it all went black.
She heard the sound of waves lapping nearby. She became aware that she was rolling backward and forward herself, and that oars were striking against water. She opened her eyes. Darkness still surrounded her and she realized that she was wrapped in a suffocating, rough wool blanket. She struggled to free herself from its confines. The blanket fell away and she faced the pirate with the hook again. He aimed his sword with deadly accuracy against her throat and she sat still, watching him. “So the Silver Hawk sought theSilver Messenger,” he mused. “I do wonder if you were the prize he sought all along. He was careless to let you be seen, my love. Very careless. Had Brice here not seen you peeking through the window, I’d never have thought to find you. And then, my dear, you came straight to the deck, making the whole thing so very easy for me. I do thank you.” Behind her, his accomplice continued to stroke the water with his oars. She said nothing, and he idly picked up a golden curl with the point of his sword. “My dear, I am so very pleased to have found you! Not only shall I have my opportunity to slay the Hawk now, but I shall enjoy you as I’m sure you can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Over my dead body!” she whispered vehemently.
He leaned toward her. “Yes, my dear, that is quite possible, too.”
Skye quickly changed her tactics. “I’m worth a fortune. If you keep me safe and return me—”
“I’m so sorry, my dear. This is vengeance, not finance. Brice! Row more quickly. I would not have the Hawk leave the Golden Hind before I can show him that I hold his prize.”
He was deadly, Skye realized with a sinking heart. He was cold, as if no blood flowed through his veins.
And he was revolting; from his fetid breath to his icy eyes, he made her skin crawl. She had sought to flee one knave only to stumble into the arms of a monster. Her teeth chattered.
She wanted to die.
She leaped to her feet suddenly, praying that the boat would tip. She could swim, but she would rather drown than go any further with the horrid monster who sat before her.
“Grab her, Brice!” he roared, leaping to his feet. The longboat teetered precariously. It careened over.
She pitched downward into the warm, aquamarine sea. They were almost to the dock. If she could just swim…
But she could gather no speed, for her skirts were dragging her down.
A hand grabbed her hair, tugging painfully. She screamed, and drew in water. Coughing and sputtering, she fought only to breathe. She was being dragged along through the water. Light wavered before her eyes. She was wrenched upon a wooden dock, surrounded by voices and kissed by the balmy warmth of the night. She closed her eyes and opened them.
And stared into the evil glare of the hook-handed pirate.
She spat at him, struggling to rise. He swore, and tossed a new blanket over her face. She was being smothered again, but she could still fight with her limbs, kicking and scratching.
But she was dragged up and cast over his shoulder and held there forcibly.
“Don’t fret, my dear. You will see blood run soon enough,” he promised her.
They drank, they laughed, they ate. The whores flirted, and they laughed at their antics. A buxom blonde promised Hawk the finest night of his life, and he told her that her words were a challenge indeed, but all the while he was thinking of another woman. One who was young and fresh and radiant and possessed the most glorious eyes.
And somehow she was able to touch him in a way he had never imagined. Touch him with her innocence, and yet evoke the most pagan and sensual thoughts that had ever come to plague him, to burn him. The whore whispered something, and he laughed. Then his laughter faded as the front doors to the establishment were suddenly cast wide open again.
He leaped to his feet. The whore fell to the floor, ignored. His hand lay upon his sword hilt where it rested within its scabbard upon his hip.
Logan had returned.
And he wasn’t alone. He swaggered into the building, a blanket-draped, struggling figure held over his shoulder, his pistol raised in his free hand.
“Hawk!” he called. “You say it’s just to seize one another’s prizes? Well, sir, I have seized one from you, and in honor of our late brother, One-Eyed Jack, I demand of the brotherhood that this prize shall be mine in your stead!”
And with that, he cast his struggling bundle upon the floor, wrenching the blanket away.
