Amanda Rose (26 page)

In what was actually a very short time, though it seemed long to Amanda, they were on the deck. Instead of putting her down, as Amanda had expected, and helping his men raise and secure the small boat, which she thought from overheard remarks might be called a gig, he strode along the deck with her in the same ignominious position over his shoulder. Amanda was too miserable to wonder where he was taking her or for what purpose. Her hands and feet were numb, the ropes around her wrists and ankles cut into her soft flesh painfully, she was soaking wet and icy cold, and her stomach, besides churning wildly, felt as if it were badly bruised. She only hoped that wherever he was taking her was warm and dry. Everything else she would worry about later.

Dangling upside down as she was, she did not have the best view of the ship, although she did register that it seemed large and that an inordinate number of men were bustling about the deck. Amanda caught fleeting glimpses of coils of rope, partially opened hatches, and booted feet. Then her abductor paused to shoulder through a door; they were inside a small cabin, Amanda deduced, though she could see only part of the floor and the lower half of the door.

“Well, I have your red-haired she-devil,” the man carrying her announced cheerfully. “Where do you want her?”

And without waiting for a reply flung her on the floor.

chapter fifteen

A man rose from a straight-backed chair that had been pulled up to a small table. From her vantage point on the floor, Amanda’s eyes touched first on gleaming Hessian boots, then slid slowly up long, muscular legs clad in superbly fitting buff-colored pantaloons, to a hard waist and broad chest covered by a spotless white shirt made of fine linen and lace. Her gaze traveled upward to wide shoulders—then her eyes widened with shock as they registered the dark, masculine splendor of that face.
Matt.
She would have cried his name out loud, but the gag prevented her from making any sound more intelligible than a moan.

“What happened?” Incredibly, Matt didn’t seem concerned at finding her, soaking wet, bound, and gagged, at his feet. He made no move to approach her or to remove the bonds that cut into her soft flesh. Amanda’s eyes were huge purple pools as she stared up at him disbelievingly. It
was
Matt, wasn’t it? The face and body were the same, but she had never seen him so richly clad before—and she had never dreamed that those silver-smoke eyes could regard her so icily.

“She kicked Grumman in the gut,” the man who had carried her replied negligently. Amanda didn’t look at him; her eyes were riveted on Matt’s face. It was Matt, without a doubt. Why, then, was he making no move to come to her aid? “He—uh—was taken by surprise and dropped her.”

“In the sea, by the look of her.” There was no doubt that that was Matt’s voice discussing her plight in that cold, dispassionate tone. Amanda wanted to scream. What ailed him? He looked like a stranger—a cold, frightening stranger.

“Yes.” The other man’s agreement was laconic. Amanda’s eyes left Matt for just an instant to touch on the stranger’s face. It was narrower than Matt’s, with a longer nose and chin, and the eyes were hazel instead of silver and the hair was rusty brown. But there was something that was similar, more in facial expression and voice inflection than any physical resemblance. This man was tall, too, nearly as tall as Matt, and though he bordered on being thin, she knew from her own experience with him that he possessed a whipcord strength …

“Thanks, Zeke.” Matt confirmed what she had begun to surmise. This, then, was his brother—the younger brother he had been so sure would come for him … “You can get on about your business. I want to catch the tide.”

Zeke looked from Amanda to Matt. His lips compressed. “Are you sure you want to take her with us? If you ask me, she’s going to be a peck more trouble than she’s worth.”

Matt smiled tigerishly. “Oh, yes, I’m sure. Amanda would be heartbroken if I left her behind, wouldn’t you?” It was the first remark Matt had addressed directly to her; Amanda felt sick at the harsh derision. This cold, hard, angry man was not her Matt … Her eyes must have conveyed her bewilderment to him because his smile widened and became tinged with hateful mockery.

“You’re the boss.” Zeke was clearly none too happy with his brother’s decision, but just as clearly he was not going to argue about it. He turned toward the door. Matt’s voice stopped him.

“Have a couple of the men bring in that old hip bath and some hot water. Milady here looks a tad bedraggled. And that will never do at all—not for what I have planned for her.”

Zeke nodded once in reply, then left the cabin, closing the door behind him. Amanda was left to stare apprehensively at Matt—a Matt altered almost beyond recognition.

“Well, well, Amanda—how lovely to see you again.” His voice was laced with an awful affability as he came to stand behind her, then knelt to work the knot on the gag. “A most unexpected surprise—for you. As for myself, I must admit that I’ve been anticipating this meeting for some days—ever since I had to swim for miles to escape the little party you had arranged for me.”

The gag was loosed at last. Amanda spat out the crumpled rag, then ran her tongue around dry lips.

“You can’t believe I planned that,” she croaked, swinging her head around so she could look at him. He was kneeling, his head bent as he labored to undo the knot that bound her wrists. At her words his eyes came up to meet hers. They were as cold as the sea in winter.

“Can’t I?” The tone was silky. “Oh, I believe I can. You told me yourself that no one else knew of the way to the cave through the convent. And following hard upon your latest temper tantrum … Yes, I can believe it—and I do.”

“It was
Edward.
” Her words were despairing, for he clearly was convinced of her guilt. But why should he so readily believe the worst of her? “Matt, it
was
Edward. Somehow he learned where you were and told the authorities. They were searching the convent that morning. That’s what I came down to the beach to tell you—only I never got the chance. I didn’t think anyone saw me go there, but I
must
have been followed.”

“Like hell.” For just an instant something ugly blazed in his eyes. Then the fire was once again swallowed by ice. He smiled unpleasantly. “Allow me to congratulate you on the improvement in your ability to tell lies. Except for a bit of overacting—barely noticeable, I assure you—that was really quite good.”

“Matt, I’m telling you the truth—I
swear
it.”

“I don’t believe you.” Her hands were freed, and she brought them forward to rub them together, absently trying to restore the circulation. His voice had been brutal, final. She was very much afraid she would be unable to change his mind.

“Matt …” She was determined not to give up. He
had
to believe her. She loved him, had thought she would die when she believed he was dead. At least, she loved the Matt she thought she knew. This icy stranger with the blazing eyes terrified her.

A brief knock on the door interrupted her before she could say anything else. Matt called out a brief assent, and the door opened to allow two burly seamen to enter the room. One was carrying a battered tin hip bath; the other held two buckets of steaming water. Wet and cold as she was, Amanda would have welcomed the sight of the bath at any other time, but now she was too preoccupied with convincing Matt.

“Matt …” she began. He was in front of her now, pushing her sodden skirt out of the way as he worked to free her ankles. Her hand came out to touch his shoulder beseechingly. He shrugged away from her touch, and Amanda winced as her unwanted hand fell to the floor.

“If you insist on continuing with that imbroglio of lies, I suggest you wait until we’re alone. My men aren’t too kindly disposed toward you, and it wouldn’t take much to persuade one of them to tip you quietly over the side. Unlike you, they’re intensely loyal.”

The words were said so quietly that Amanda didn’t think the seamen, one of whom was busy filling the tub with water, heard. But the very softness of his voice made it seem all the more menacing. He talked as if he hated her—and, looking into those glittering eyes, Amanda began to be very much afraid he did.

She was obediently, despairingly silent as the sailors finished their task. Matt meanwhile freed her feet, and she occupied herself with rubbing life back into her numbed limbs while he rose to stand towering above her, his hands jammed in his pockets.

“Anything else, Captain?” The tub was full now, and the men were gathering up the empty buckets and moving toward the door. They paused to look respectfully back at Matt.

“That’s all, thank you.” His tone was abrupt, but the sailors didn’t seem to be offended. Taking his words as dismissal, they left the cabin. Amanda was once more alone with Matt—and the thought made her shiver.

“Matt …” she began again, swiveling so she could look up at him. He loomed above her like a mountain while she huddled, shivering and dripping, at his feet, not sure whether her limbs retained sufficient strength to support her if she should try to stand. She never had a chance to try, for, ignoring her attempt at speech, he stooped and caught her under the armpits, lifting her to her feet. Amanda hung swaying between his steadying hands, gripping his forearms for support. His mouth twisted with an emotion Amanda couldn’t quite recognize. Perhaps it was nothing more than distaste at her sodden state. She was making quite a puddle on the highly polished floor.

“Can you stand?”

Amanda nodded. “I think so.”

The supporting hands were withdrawn. Amanda found that she could, indeed, stand, but that she was shivering so hard from the cold her teeth chattered.

“Strip off.” The words were harsh, the tone almost brutal. Amanda, clenching her teeth as she felt another spasm of shivers, could only stare at him in disbelief. Surely he couldn’t mean that terse command? Even angry as he was, he surely couldn’t expect her to submit meekly to the humiliation of undressing in front of him?

“Did you hear what I said?” The bite in his voice made her jump.

“You can’t be serious,” she managed at last in what she hoped was a reasonable manner. His lip curled, and he shoved his hands in his pockets as if he were having trouble keeping them from shaking her.

“Why can’t I? If you’re planning to claim maidenly modesty, don’t. I’ve seen every inch of your delectable white skin—and you’re no maiden.”

“That’s a
horrible
thing to say.” She was staring at him, her eyes wide with hurt.

“But true.” He smiled. Amanda feared the look in his eyes. It seemed predatory, like a wolf’s glare. “Will you take off your clothes, or must I do it for you? My plans for you don’t include having you die of pneumonia—at least, not yet.”

Amanda gave up. From the look on his face, he meant what he said. Either she took off her clothes or he would. And she didn’t want his hands on her, not while he was in his present mood. He might take it into his head to exact vengeance—in the most primitive way—for her supposed betrayal of him.

“I will.” His eyes glinted at her, as though her capitulation both pleased and annoyed him. As Amanda reached behind her back to feel for the fastenings of her dress, the thought came to her that he would have enjoyed forcing her to his will.

The silk was cold, wet, and slippery. Amanda struggled with the few hooks she could reach, separating no more than two from their eyes. After watching her lack of progress for some little time in brooding silence, Matt made a harsh sound under his breath and caught her by the arms, turning her so that her back was to him. She flinched at the touch of his hands on her back as he began to manipulate the hooks. Her hair was dripping icy water down her back, and with an impatient sound he threw it over her shoulder.

“A lovely dress,” he said, sneering, as he apparently noticed her changed apparel for the first time. “How did you acquire it—with your thirty pieces of silver?”

“
No.
” Amanda started to turn toward him, only to be stopped as his hands tightened savagely over the material at her back. There was a loud tearing sound as the material separated under his fingers. “Matt,
no. Stop it.
” He was ripping the gown from her body, his face dark with blood as the ugly fire that had blazed at her earlier returned to his eyes. Ignoring her protests and frantic attempts to get away, he tore the dress until it was little more than a rag lying in tatters around her feet. She stepped quickly away from him, clad only in her chemise and pantalettes, both of which were sopping wet and did little to conceal her body from his gaze. Wrapping her arms defensively over her breasts, she stared at him from a distance of five feet. Dark blood still suffused his face; his hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he fought to regain control.

“Undress and get into that tub—now.” The words were growled from between clenched teeth. Amanda hesitated, sorely tempted to do as he said and warm her frozen body in the water that steamed enticingly, but she was both afraid and embarrassed to take off the rest of her clothes in front of him. In his present mood, rape was not beyond him, and even if he didn’t descend to that level of violence, she didn’t want him to look at her—not like this. Before, when he had made her naked, it had been an act of passion if not of love. Now it would be just one more method of punishing her. She could read in his eyes his desire to humiliate her.

“Amanda, if you’re not out of those clothes in the next minute, I’ll tear them off you.”

There was no doubt that he meant it. Amanda looked into that dark, implacable face, saw the harsh set of the beautifully cut mouth and the steely color of his eyes, and felt more afraid of him. Always before, he had been quick to laugh, to smile at her. She realized she had never seen him truly angry—until now. Now he was furious; the knowledge made her heart pound.

Before he could carry out his threat, she began to remove her soaked underclothes. Better not to risk a repetition of his violence. But her hands were shaking, from cold or fright, and the tapes to her petticoat were wet. What had once been a bow had now become a knot, and she couldn’t untie it for the life of her. She struggled with it, despairing, while violent shivers racked her. When she heard him rap out an impatient oath, she jumped. He was walking toward her, his stride quick and menacing, and he held a long-bladed knife in one hand.