Having blocked his smug face from view, Jessie went to his massive dark-curtained bed and plopped herself down upon it,trying desperately to ignore him—good Lord, he had caught her fondling his window! Her face heated with mortification.
Such a deep hush prevailed from beyond the curtains that she found herself feeling uneasy as she surveyed the room in its unholy darkness. Why was everything so... so black? she wondered irately. His bed, more suited to a sultan, was curtained in dark midnight blue silks. A beautifully carved armoire in dark wood graced the wall by the door, and a table with wicked claws for legs hunched in the middle of the cabin, its fearful talons gripping the bare wood floor. There were paintings of indescribable value and beauty, bookcases built into the wall with dozens of leather-bound volumes housed within them. And then of course, there were the stained-glass windows...
“You’d think the man was a prince!” she muttered. But then, he was, wasn’t he? He was Prince of Smugglers. She laughed without mirth, cursing herself for a silly hysterical fool. Her gaze reverting to the curtain, she decided it was much too still for her peace of mind, and she rose to peek behind it... to be certain he was gone.
He was still there, smiling knowingly, taunting her, his teeth flashing in mockery. His brow lifted diabolically.
“Oh! You! I hope the rope snaps and you plummet headlong into the ocean and drown, you cur!” Yanking the curtain shut again, Jessie fumed. But his voice when next he spoke seemed unsettled, and she experienced a twinge of guilt for her hateful words.
“Damn it, Jess!” Then more frantically, “Jessie! I’m slipping... damn it... Jess!”
Arms crossed stubbornly, Jessie refused to reopen the drapes, refused to believe him. It was a ruse, she was certain. He was a cad! a cur! a lecher! And he sounded no more distressed than a gluttonous toad at home upon his lily pad.
Yet even as she endeavored to convince herself, there came a cacophonous thud against the side of the ship, followed by an awful, endless abrasive sound that concluded with an ominous splash far, far below. Jessie’s heart lurched, and she snatched open the draperies with trembling hands.
Lord, what if he had fallen?
The rope dangled dismally before her eyes, swinging ever so slightly, evidence that he’d been there—but was no more. He was nowhere within sight.
Oh, God—dear God. He had fallen. Hadn’t anyone seen? She glanced up, pressing her nose to the tinted glass, spying no one above—not that she could see a blessed thing through the colored glass! Frantically her gaze slid down again, to the fathomless ocean. She could see very little through the greens and blues and reds of the stained glass... and yet... and yet... she could have sworn that the water rippled away from a foaming center.
It was all her fault! Not daring to waste even a single precious second, she went to the door and began clearing it of obstacles at once.
“Someone! Anyone!” she shouted hysterically. “Please, Christian—Hawk!” she screamed. Lord, what to call the accursed man? “Your captain!” she decided finally. “He’s fallen overboard! Someone, please—help!”
Thank heavens that her own trunks were easy enough to remove, but the other two, his two, were another matter entirely. They were as heavy as sin! Squatting upon the floor, she planted her feet squarely and gave a mighty heave. It moved a little, though at this rate, she thought that by the time she removed the last of the sea chests and made her away above deck to summon help, Christian would be long gone—dead—and at her hands, no less!
Lord, she was a murderess! Tears stung her eyes. The very thought of never seeing him again made her heart suddenly ache. The possibility chilled her, left her bereft.
Giving the trunk one last desperate heave, she shoved it out of the way, and with a groan she tackled the largest of them all, the one that was buttressed so securely against the door, the one that had taken her a lifetime to set into place.
“Dear God,” Jessie prayed aloud, “please don’t let him die—don’t let him die—please!” Her face turned scarlet with her efforts and still the trunk would not budge.
“Someone, please—oh, please, please, help!” she cried out, despairing ever to be free of the cabin. She was desperate to aid Christian. The armoire she’d admired earlier was within reach, and she happened to brace her feet upon it in her despair. Finding anchorage there, she shoved with every last bit of her might. Nailed down as it was, the armoire gave her the much-needed reinforcement and the confounded chest inched slowly but surely away from the door. Her face flushed and her brow beaded from her exertions, she gave the chest a final shove, sliding it just barely out of the way, and then she stood hurriedly, unbolting the door.
Her mouth fell agape as she opened the door.
“What took you so long?”
In one swift, agile motion, Christian shoved away from the wall that faced her, smiling devilishly.
Much too belatedly, she tried to slam the door in his too wicked, too handsome face. His hand swept out to hold it ajar.
“My, but you do seem distressed,” he said much too calmly. “Tell me... where are you off to in such a frantic rush, my love?” The gleam in his cobalt eyes told Jessie that he truly didn’t wish or need an answer to that particular question, and she didn’t offer him one.
His jaw working angrily, he suddenly shoved the door further open, causing her to lose her balance for the tiniest fraction of an instant. One boot on, one conspicuously missing, he came into the room, stalking her as a lion would its prey. Jessie backed slowly away from him, fearing him suddenly.
“Y-You tricked me!”
“You locked me out of my cabin,” he returned smoothly, his glittering blue eyes never leaving her own.
“B-But you t-told me to...” He shook his head slowly in negation and her voice suddenly failed her.
“I told you to stay out of my sight, not to shut me away from my bed.” He grinned then, but it was an ominous, mocking grin, not the least bit reassuring.
“Wh-What were you doing out there anyway?” she asked defensively.
“Why, I was looking to see what you’d barred the door with, of course,” he said. “But tell me... what were you doing at the window?” He smiled that wicked, knowing smile of his.
