De Warenne Dynasty: The Prize Part 7

Mac nodded. "Yes, sir."

Gus nodded grimly as well. Neither man looked her way, not even once.

Virginia choked in disbelief. She was his personal property? "I thought I was your guest!" she cried.

The captain ignored her, as did Mac and Gus. "Mac, you captain this ship," the golden-haired pirate said. "Sail her to Portsmouth. We'll take our bounty from the prize agent there. Drogo, Gardener and Smith will stay on board to crew for you. Handpick ten others. I will be following," he said.

Mac blinked. "Yer comin' with us to Portsmouth?"

He clapped a hand on Mac's broad shoulder. "Our plans have changed," he said flatly. "You will rejoin the Defiance in Portsmouth."

"Yessir."

Virginia, listening intently and watching closely, felt her heart sink. Why were his plans changing? She prayed that it had nothing to do with her.

And what did he intend to do with her? It crossed her mind then that she was well enough dressed for him to be thinking of ransoming her. On the other hand, Mrs. Davis was the one with the pearl necklace, the diamond rings and the expensive clothing.

The pirate said, "Mr. and Mrs. Davis, I suggest you go down to your berth. We have a fine nor'easter and we're setting sail immediately. You will be allowed to disembark in Portsmouth."

Clearly in terror, the Davis couple rushed past the pirate and disappeared into the hold below.

Now Virginia had a very bad feeling indeed. Why wasn't he robbing Mrs. Davis? Her rings were worth thousands of dollars. A new fear-and a new dread-filled her.

The pirate started away.

"Captain O'Neill, sir?" Gus hurried after him.

O'Neill didn't stop. "You may address Miss Hughes for the sole purpose of finding the location of her bags and escorting her to my cabin, Gus." He did not look back at Virginia, not even once. He leapt onto the higher portion of the deck where clearly many of his cannons had done a great deal of damage to the middle mast and sails. Several pirates seemed to be about to attempt repairs to the rigging there.

"Lash the mainmast," he commanded. "There's good canvas below. Replace the main staysail. The rest can be patched. Put everyone on it. You have one hour and we set sail. I will not lose this wind."

Virginia stared at his tall, arrogant figure, until she realized that someone was speaking to her.

"Miss Hughes, please, this way, Miss, er, Hughes."

Virginia turned and faced the blond man, who seemed younger than herself. His cheeks were flushed and he was not looking at her, clearly taking his captain's orders very seriously, indeed. "Where are we going?"

Still gazing past her shoulder, he said, "To the Defiance. Where are your bags?"

"In the cabin below," she said, hardly caring about her baggage.

Gus turned, grabbed another young sailor, and sent him below for her luggage. Virginia found herself at the railing where a dinghy waited for her in the swells below. She hesitated, filled with desperation now.

He had said he would not hurt her. She didn't believe him. She would be a fool to believe him. She dismissed the notion that he intended to ransom her, for he hadn't looked twice at the wealthy Davis couple. What did he want? What could he possibly want?

The Atlantic Ocean was silvery gray, far darker than his eyes, and it looked as immensely threatening. One false step and she would be immersed in its frigid watery depths. It crossed her mind that another woman would jump to a watery death, saving herself from any further abuse.

She gripped the rail tightly. She had no death wish, and only a fool would choose suicide over life-any kind of life.

"Do not even think about it," he said, landing catlike by her side.

Virginia flinched and met his brilliant gray eyes.

He stared back and he was very angry, indeed.

Virginia reminded herself to never forget that this man had acute senses-that he did not miss a thing-that he almost had eyes in the back of his head. Perversely, she said, low and almost as angry as he, "If my wish is to jump, the time will come when you will not be able to stop me."

And he smiled. "Is that a challenge or a threat?"

She inhaled, struck hard by his look, his tone, his words. Something odd happened then. He was standing so close, he was so tall, so virile, so in control, and with the comprehension that he would not allow her to die came a breathless sensation and a fiery tingling to her every nerve. She backed away instantly, nervously, suddenly awash in confusion.

"Get her to the Defiance. And if she even looks at the water, blindfold her," he snapped to Gus.

Virginia stared. He stared back. In that moment she knew that in any battle that ensued between them, she simply could not win.

Male arms lifted her over a hard shoulder. She cried out, but it was too late, for Gus was climbing down the rope ladder to the dinghy, holding her like a treasured sack of gold. Upside down, she met the pirate's eyes. It was hard to see clearly from this humiliating position, but she could have sworn that he was frowning harshly at her now.

And by the time she was right side up and seated in the bow, he was gone.

CHAPTER FOUR.

FROM THE DECKS OF THEAmericana the seas had looked pleasant enough. The moment the dinghy was set free, the small boat leapt and bucked wildly as two sailors rowed it toward the hulk that was the Defiance. Virginia gripped the edge of the boat, sea spray soaking her. A minute ago, the Defiance had seemed so close by. Now it looked terribly far away.

A huge wave took the rowboat high up toward the sky. Virginia bit her lip to keep from crying out and then they were cast at breakneck speed toward the pit of the rushing seas.

But they did not go under. Another frothing swell raised them up again. Virginia hadn't eaten since that morning, but she realized she was in danger of retching. She managed to tear her gaze from the violence of the ocean and saw that none of the sailors seemed at all concerned. She tried to breathe more naturally but it was impossible. Then her gaze met Gus's.

Instantly he looked away at the mother ship, his cheeks crimson.

What nonsense, she thought angrily, to order the men to avoid looking at her. "Gus! How will we disembark?" she shouted at him. An attempt to do so now seemed suicidal.

Another huge sea spray thoroughly soaked her; Gus acted as if he hadn't heard her question. The ocean was very loud, however, so she repeated herself, now hollering. His shoulders squared and he refused to look her way.

Finally they reached the other ship. A sailor tossed down ropes and a plank attached to the ship was lowered, answering Virginia's question. She could not wait to get out of the bucking rowboat.

The sailors above were staring at her. Their rude gazes gave her a savage satisfaction. Gus said tersely, "She's the captain's. No one's to speak to her, no one's to look at her, captain's orders."

Four crude gazes veered away.

As Virginia was helped onto the plank by Gus, who held on to her with a firm grip, she wondered at the control that O'Neill had over his men. How did he instill their instant submission and obedience? Undoubtedly he was a cruel and harsh master.

"This way," Gus said, not looking at her. He'd released her arm now that they were on the vast main deck of the frigate, for she rode the sea more gently than the dinghy and even than the Americana.

A sick feeling began. Virginia gazed about her at the huge pirate ship, wishing she knew her fate. She found herself being led across the deck, where word of the captain's orders had obviously spread, as she was studiously avoided. A moment later she was in a small cabin with her single valise, the door closed behind her.

Virginia hugged herself. It had happened. She was the pirate captain's prisoner-she was in the pirate captain's cabin.

She shivered, realized she was trembling from the cold-she was soaked from head to foot-and she blinked and glanced around at her new accommodations. The cabin was about four times the size of the berth she'd shared with the Davises. It was, in fact, luxuriously appointed. Just beyond the doorway there was a low four-poster mahogany bed, bolted to the floor and covered with paisley silk quilts in a bold red, black and gold pattern. Gold-ta.s.seled red velvet pillows were piled high on the bed, looking distinctly Eastern. Two rows of shelves were on the wall above the bed and two dark red Persian carpets covered the floor. A desk covered with books, maps and charts was in a corner of the cabin.

There was also a fine, small dining table in the cabin, gleaming with wax, its pedestal base incredibly carved, clawed and detailed. Four tall, elegantly upholstered striped chairs graced it. A black Chinese screen, inlaid with mother of pearl, was against the fourth wall. A closet seemed to be built into the wall. A porcelain hip bath was there, as well.

Virginia grimaced, terribly uneasy. She hated being in his quarters, surrounded by his personal effects. Worse, it bothered her to no end that the appointments were far more elegant than those of her own home. She walked over to the bed, ignoring it, but helplessly wondering where she was going to sleep. There were some folded garments on one shelf-she saw what she thought were drawers and stockings. There was a mirror, a razor, a thick shaving brush, a toothbrush and a gold-engraved porcelain bowl. There were also several candles in sterling-silver holders.

Dismay somehow joined the unease.

On the higher shelf were dictionaries: French-English, Spanish-English, German-English, Italian-English, Portuguese-English and Russian-English. And then there were two small, tattered books, one on common phrases in the Arabic language, the other Chinese.

Was her captor educated? He'd had a heavy Irish brogue, but he'd also had the airs of an aristocrat. In fact, he hadn't appeared at all the way she would expect a pirate to appear-he hadn't been toothless, smelly and dirty-except for the blood. It crossed her mind that he had been clean-shaven, too.

She couldn't stand it. The cabin, filled with his presence, now threatened to suffocate her. She rushed to the door and tried it, expecting to find it locked. To her shock, it opened instantly.

She wasn't locked in.

The door ajar, she peered out and saw that the preparations on the Americana were almost complete. A new mainsail was being unfurled, which meant only one thing-the ship would soon begin to sail. If only she could manage to get back on board, she thought.

She stepped out of the cabin. It was growing later in the afternoon now and a swift breeze had picked up, chilling her more thoroughly. She shivered, shading her eyes with one hand and gazing out at the Americana. No dinghy remained tied to its side, so even if she could have thought of a way to get back over to the other ship, it was too late; the ships were casting off.

Cautiously, Virginia glanced around. Men were climbing the masts, unfurling some sails, reefing others, and other men were hoisting a huge anchor. No one seemed to be aware of her presence.

She hesitated, then saw him on the quarterdeck. Virginia stilled. He was obviously giving orders. The strong wind was now blowing strands of his hair wildly about, even though he wore it tied back, and it was also causing his billowing and still-b.l.o.o.d.y shirt to collapse against his torso, defining ridge after ridge and plane after plane of muscle. His presence was commanding. Far too commanding for him to be some farmer-turned-pirate. The man was an aristocrat, she decided instantly, an aristocrat gone bad.

He saw her and across a vast distance, he stared.

Virginia found it hard to breathe.

A moment later he put his back to her. The Defiance suddenly bolted as if it were a horse let out of a starting gate. Virginia was thrown back against the outside wall of the cabin.

Gus appeared. "Captain asks that you stay below, Miss Hughes," he said, refusing to make eye contact with her.

"Then why doesn't he lock the door?" she asked tartly.

"Please go inside, Miss Hughes. Captain's orders," he insisted, crimson-cheeked once again.

"Gus!" she snapped, gripping his wrist. "I don't care what he's ordered, as he is not my captain!"

Gus blinked and, for one moment, regarded her with disbelief.

She felt a tiny surge of triumph. "Please look at me when you address me. I am not a door or a post."

He flushed and looked away. "Captain's orders, miss."

"d.a.m.n your murdering captain! d.a.m.n him to h.e.l.l-which is where I have no doubt he will one day end up, far sooner than later!" Virginia cried.

Gus dared to glance at her again. "Wind's changed. Storm's coming. Please go inside or I am ordered to take you in."

Virginia made a distinctly unladylike sound, very much a snort, and she stormed into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind her. She waited to hear a padlock being put in place, but she heard nothing at all. But they were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and there was, quite simply, nowhere for her to go.

She would escape in Portsmouth.

Virginia sat down hard on one of the dining room chairs, filled with sudden excitement. They were but a day away, if she understood correctly. Surely she could keep the lecherous captain at bay for an entire day-and surely, in the next twenty-four hours, she could come up with a plan.

And Portsmouth was in Britain. Somehow she would find a way to get from Portsmouth to London, where she was certain her uncle was expecting her.

Hope filled her. So did relief.

Virginia finally faced the fact that she had nothing to do other than plot and plan. She was freezing, though, and she eyed her valise. She was afraid to change. She was afraid of being caught in a state of undress by the captain. Rubbing her hands together, she decided to focus on planning her escape.

Within minutes, her mind slowed and dimmed and her eyes became heavy, refusing to stay open. Finally, her head fell onto her arms and she was asleep.

"SIR. SHE'S GONE BELOW," Gus said.

Devlin allowed his first mate to handle the ship's helm but he stood beside him, studying the racing clouds, the graying light, acutely aware of the sudden drop in temperature. A gale was blowing in and his every instinct, honed by eleven years at sea, told him it would be a nasty one.

There was still time, however, before he needed to reef in the topsails. Now he hoped to outrun the storm, although doing so was pushing them off course.

And the girl was in his cabin. A pair of huge violet eyes, angry and outraged, a.s.sailed his mind's eye. They were set in a small, finely formed face. Dismissing the unwanted images, he glanced at Gus, who was blushing. "Give you a hard time, did she?" He could not help but find Gus's discomfort amusing.

Gus hesitated. "She's very brave for such a small lady, sir."

He turned away with a grunt. Brave? That was an understatement. Her huge violet eyes had been disturbing him ever since he had had the misfortune to finally meet the Earl of Eastleigh's American niece. He didn't know whether to be truly amused by her antics, or genuinely furious with her lack of respect and subordination. The girl was as small as a child of thirteen, but he was a fine judge of character and she had the courage of ten grown men. Not that he cared. She was a hostage and a means to an end.

He had been expecting a refined lady with equally refined airs, a fully grown and experienced woman like Elizabeth, a woman he might consider bedding just to sweeten the pot. He had not antic.i.p.ated a pint-size h.e.l.lion who would try to murder him with a sniper shot and then had dared attack him again, this time with the b.u.t.t of a pistol.

It was not amusing. Devlin stalked to the side of the quarterdeck, raising spygla.s.ses to his eyes. A heavy feeling simmered in the pit of his loins, dangerous and hot, and it was the seed of a huge, terrible l.u.s.t.

His mouth twisted mirthlessly as he gazed through the binoculars. f.u.c.king Eastleigh's niece was a terrible temptation. The savage blood l.u.s.t smoldering in him felt far greater than any l.u.s.t he'd ever experienced before, perhaps because the girl was just that, more child than woman, making the act even more vicious and brutal. He knew it would add to the triumph of his revenge. But he hadn't lied when he had said he did not rape and neither did his men. It was not allowed. He was a man, not a monster. He had, in fact, been raised by both his mother, his father and his stepfather to be a gentleman. And he supposed that when he infrequently attended a ball or affair of state, it was a.s.sumed that he was just that. But he was not. No gentleman could ever triumph on the high seas, not in war and not in peace. No gentleman could ama.s.s a real fortune by seizing prize after prize. His crew would never obey a gentleman. Still, ruining an eighteen-year-old virgin was simply not an option, even if he was intrigued enough to be thinking about it.

He set the binoculars down. Her reputation would be tattered enough when he finally delivered her to Eastleigh. He didn't care. Why should he? She meant nothing to him. And if he learned that Eastleigh was fond of her, then he would be even more pleased to present her with a shredded reputation. As for his own reputation, it was very simple-he didn't give a d.a.m.n and he never had.

He had been talked about behind his back for most of his life. As a small boy, before his father's murder, their neighbors used to whisper with a mixture of pity and respect that he should have been The O'Neill one day, like his ancestors before him. Then they would whisper about his family's current state of dest.i.tution-or about his father's love affairs. Gerald had been a good husband, but like many men, he had not been entirely faithful. And the whispers had not stopped after Gerald's murder. There were more whispers then, more stares, mostly unkind and accusatory. They whispered about his family's conversion to Protestantism, they whispered about his mother's love for her new husband, and then they dared to whisper about his real paternity. With stiff shoulders, his cheeks aflame, Devlin had ignored them all.

Now the rumors were spread in society by the English lords and ladies there. They bowed to him with the utmost deference, but their whispers were hardly different. They called him a hero to his face, and a rogue, a scoundrel and a pirate behind his back, even as they foisted their pretty, unwed, wealthy daughters upon him at the b.a.l.l.s they invited him to.

And he wasn't worried about his naval career, either. It was a career that had served him well but it was also one that he was ambivalent about. His life was the wind and the sea, his ship and his crew-of that, there was no doubt. Should his naval career end prematurely, he would still sail the high seas, just differently. He felt no loyalty and no love for his British masters, but he was a patriot-he would do anything for his country, Ireland.

Devlin was very aware that he had failed to follow his orders once again. In fact, he had done more than fail to follow them, he had actually flagrantly violated them. But the Admiralty needed him more than they wanted his head; besides, he would see that this new game with Eastleigh was conducted fashionably, discreetly and with the semblance of honor. Eastleigh had no wish for scandal, and Devlin knew he would keep the abduction and ransom of his niece a very private affair. He intended to conclude it as swiftly as possible-after he toyed with Eastleigh just a bit.

And Devlin smiled at the darkening sky.

SHE DIDN'T KNOW HOW MUCH time had pa.s.sed or how long he'd stood there in the growing dusk, staring at her as she slept. But suddenly Virginia was awake, and as she lifted her head, he was the first thing that she saw.