Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (45 page)

could, although she was fairly sure both Nick and Kaelan would have something to say about that

decision.

The smell got much, much worse and the damp chill cut all the way through her clothing. So miserable

was she, she almost missed the ring which held two keys which hung on the bulkhead wall and swung

gently to the rhythm of the ship's roll.

“Help me,” she heard someone whimper and she stopped beside a thick iron door inset with a high

grate. She had to stand on tiptoes to peer inside the cell.

“Sir?” she called out.

“It's bitten through my arm,” came the cry.

Rats, Gilly knew, were all over the ship. Confined as they were, the prisoners had to be prime targets for

the rodents. As much as she disliked the sly beasts, she knew the prisoners had to hate them more.

“I am going to get you out,” Gilly told the unseen man.

“Who are you, milady?” someone called from behind her and Gilly turned to see another cell door,

though she could not see the cell's occupant.

“Someone sent to help,” Gilly responded.

“Gods-sent,” another man declared from further down the row of locked doors. “The gods be blessed

that you have come none too late, milady."

It didn't take Gilly long to find the key that would unlock the cell door. She had prepared herself for the

sight that would greet her, but nothing could have prepared her for the man who fell at her feet, kissing

her boots, when she unlocked his manacles.

“Thank you, milady,” the man sobbed, his hands gripping her ankles. “Thank you."

The prisoner's arms were bloody from bites; his legs, too. His bare feet were filthy and covered with

scratches.

“You must hurry,” she told him. “Get up now and make for the hatchway. We are at Montyne Cay and

there will be men to help you.” The voice had told her there would be help and she knew there would be.

“Thank you,” the prisoner said again and again.

Gilly unlocked the leg irons of the other three men in the cell with him and cautioned them all, with a

finger to her lip, that they were to make their way quietly to the hatchway.

When the men had done as she asked, after thanking her as profusely as the first man, she moved across

to the other door and unlocked it.

“You must hurry, milady,” the man who had spoken to her before insisted. “You must help him."

“I will,” Gilly said, moving on to the second man in the cell. There were five men in all crowded in the

cramped quarters.

“They nearly beat him to death when they caught him,” the man continued as he stood there, rubbing his

wrists. “We've heard nothing from him for the last day."

“I will see to him,” Gilly stressed, “now go. We've not that much time."

“Thank you, milady,” the man said. He helped the other four men to exit the cell, but stayed where he

was.

“Go,” Gilly insisted.

The man shook his head. “You'll need help with him, milady."

There was probably truth in that, Gilly thought. She flung out her hand. “Where is he?”

There were several cells left, but only one prisoner unaccounted for.

“I'll show you.” The man moved out of the cell and went further down the row. He reached the farthest

cell and stopped. “He's in here."

Gilly handed the keys to her helper and he unlocked the door, stooping down to get inside the smaller

cell.

“Why did they put him by himself?” she asked.

“To punish him the more,” came the answer.

If Gilly had been unprepared for the unrestrained thankfulness of the men she released, she was doubly

unprepared for the sight of the pathetic wretch who was interned in the Serenian Star's solitary

confinement cell.

“Sweet Merciful Alel!” Gillian whispered, her hand going to her mouth.

“Help me,” the man with her ordered, trying not to give the woman time to dwell long on the gruesome

sight which had greeted her.

Gilly shuddered hard, but she swallowed down the nausea that had leapt up her throat and moved over

to her helper who was kneeling down in the filthy straw on which the prisoner lay.

“Son, can you hear me?” she heard the man ask.

There was a groan from the man who lay on his stomach in the rustling straw.

“We're going to get you out of here, Quinn,” the man said.

Tears had formed in Gilly's eyes. “What can I do?” she asked.

“Help me turn him over so I can pick him up,"

“No,” came the weak denial from the prone man.

“I've got to, Quinn. I'm not going to leave you here!"

With stern purpose, Gilly's helper eased his hands under the other man's left side and motioned with his

head for Gilly to go to his right side. “Turn him toward me until I can get my arms under his back and

legs."

“God, don't!” was the tortured plea.

“Quinn,” Gilly's helper said patiently, “it's got to be done."

A bright light flooded the cell and both Gilly and her helper gasped, turning toward it.

“What the gods-be-damned hell are you doing down here, Gillian Cree?!” came the infuriated demand.

* * * *

Mercifully, the prisoner had lost consciousness long before Riordan A'Lex, the strongest man in Nick's

boarding party, could settle the unconscious one's abused body in his arms. The first movement as the

men made to lift the prisoner had brought with it an agonized scream and unintelligent mumbles that

tapered off into whimpers.

“How can anyone do something so brutal to another human being?” Thècion had demanded as he

helped Riordan lay the prisoner in the bunk Kaelan had been able to vacate.

“Do you know him, Thècion?” Diarmuid asked.

“Never seen him before,” the Serenian prince replied.

The men washed the prisoner as best they could, stripped the filthy, tattered breeches from his body,

then laid him on his belly as Riordan set to work on the carnage that had once been a human back.

In the corner of the captain's cabin, Kaelan sat watching, his own flesh tingling where the lash had once

been laid to it. He could sympathize with the unconscious man even though he, himself, had never known

the excess of the cat-'o-nine that this poor fellow had.

“His name is Quinn Arbra,” Raine informed them as he came in with fresh water for the prisoner to

drink. “I heard Nick questioning the Star's captain about him."

“Arbra?” Thècion asked. “I've never heard that name before, either.” He scratched his head. “It ain't a

Serenian name. Is it Viragonian, Kaelan?"

“Most likely Ionarian,” Kaelan replied, then sneezed hard. His nose was stopped up and he had a

wicked headache, not to mention the constriction which still plagued his lungs. He blew his nose on the

kerchief that was never far away. “He made somebody very, very angry to have that much damage done

to him."

Thècion's jaw clenched. “I'd like to get my hands on the bastard who did it!"

“The Tribunal did it, Your Grace,” Raine reminded him. “They are responsible for everything like this."

“Raine's right,” Kaelan said. “And that's why we've got to do what we can to stop this from happening

again.” He started to cough, waving away Raine's offer of water.

The Serenian prince glanced around. “Why aren't you up with your bride, Hesar?"

Kaelan shrugged. “Nick ain't through with her, yet,” he answered. “When he's blunted his tongue on her

thick hide, it'll be my turn.” He laid his head back against the cabin's wall and rubbed at his aching

temples. “Just the thought of her being on board that ship with thirty men makes my blood run cold.” He

drew in a long, wheezing breath. “If Nick don't tan her hind end, I will."

Thècion exchanged a grin with Raine. Both men knew neither brother nor husband would lay a hand to

the brazen little chit they had taken an instant liking to the moment they met her.

There was a low moan from the bunk and Thècion hunkered down beside it. He ran his hand over the

prisoner's hair, the freshly-washed blond curls still damp to the touch. “Easy, fellow,” the prince

cautioned softly. “You're with friends."

“Where..is ... s..she?” was the labored question from the prisoner who had opened glazed blue eyes the

color of a summer sky.

“Who?” Thècion inquired.

“T ... the ... l ... lady."

“I think he means my lady,” Kaelan said, not all that pleased to have a strange man seeking his wife's

whereabouts.

“Do you want me to get her for you?” Thècion asked.

“P ... please.” The blue eyes closed tiredly, then opened again, bright with fever and unspeakable pain.

Kaelan shrugged his indifference to Thècion when the prince looked over at him; but he was

experiencing a mild case of jealousy that kept him right where he was.

Thècion got up. He was gone only a few minutes, Gilly in tow. Gilly glanced at her husband, her face

lighting with happiness, but she resolutely looked away from him and headed for the bunk, unknowingly

adding fuel to both Kaelan's feelings of jealousy and unease.

“I am glad to hear you are awake, Milord Quinn,” Gilly said, kneeling down beside the still man.

Quinn Arbra shifted his gaze from the distant stare which he had held to the beautiful face of the young

woman who had saved his life. “Who are you, Angel?” he forced out.

Gilly smiled and put a hand to his damp cheek. “Gillian Hesar, milord."

“Gillian,” Quinn repeated. With effort, he turned his head so that his lips were pressed against her palm

and he kissed her there softly.

Gilly felt a tingle in her palm and her smile widened. No one but Kaelan had ever been able to elicit such

a feeling before. When Quinn locked his eyes with hers, she felt another feeling-more profound and more

intense-spiral through her belly.

“My thanks, Angel,” Quinn whispered and with that he fell into a deep, healing sleep.

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Kaelan stood up, still amazed there was no pain in his thigh, and then held out his hand to Gillian who

was lingering at the unconscious man's bedside. “Come to me, lady,” he asked.

Gilly assured herself that Quinn was sleeping soundly, then pushed up from the floor. She came to her

husband shyly, going into his arms as he opened them for her.

“I think I'm in need of a little fresh air,” Riordan quipped, elbowing Raine. The two men studiously

avoided looking at Kaelan and his bride as they headed for the door.

“I believe I'll join you,” Thècion mumbled, grinning foolishly as he cast a quick glance at Kaelan.

“Did you frown them away with that scowl of yours, milord?” Gilly inquired as she snuggled against her

husband's chest.

“No. They just knew they weren't needed,” Kaelan snorted.

She pulled her head back and looked up at him. “You think you can handle me all by yourself, do you?”

she teased.

Kaelan's left eyebrow quirked upward. “Care to have me show you how I can handle you, Gillian

Hesar?"

Gilly opened her lips to tease him some more, but Kaelan's mouth swooped down to cover hers,

blocking her intent. As his tongue plunged between her lips and stabbed at her own, she felt her knees

giving way and would have fallen had he not dipped his knees and swung her up into his arms.

“Kaelan Hesar, don't you dare!” she squealed, pulling her mouth free of his tender suction. “You are

freshly out of your sick bed and..."

“Horny as hell!” he finished for her. Before she could protest again, he had carried her to Nick's desk

and sat her down on it, wedging himself between her knees, spreading them apart with o-skirts Nick had

demanded she put on once he'd seen her in breeches-to push them up her thighs.

“Kaelan!” she protested, trying to push her skirts down again. “This dress is freshly-ironed! Do you

know the trouble Lumley and Ned went to to get it from a shop on Montyne Cay?"

“I'll get you another,” he mumbled as he locked his lips on her arched throat.

“Kaelan!” she protested again, this time with less conviction. Who cared about a silly old dress anyway?

“You talk too much, lady,” Kaelan grunted, fumbling with the buttons on his breeches.

“This is unseemly,” she said, peering over his shoulder to make sure Quinn Sorn was still asleep.

“Pay attention to me, lady!” Kaelan growled, tilting his head back to see where his wife was looking. “I

need your full attention."

Gilly pursed her lips into a pretend pout. “It is hard to concentrate when we're not alone, Kaelan."

“Then close your eyes and pretend the bastard isn't there!” Kaelan told her. With that, he had freed

himself and was already paused to give her his full attention.

Gilly gasped as her husband pulled her closer to the edge of the desk, then swept his arm behind her to

rid the top of its contents. Before she could scold him for his wanton destruction of her brother's

property, she found herself flat on her back, her husband's rigid shaft buried to the hilt within her.

“Kaelan, really!” she whispered as he came up and over her, pushing her along the desk as he joined

atop the heavy mahogany piece of furniture. The wild thought that it was a good thing the desk was

bolted to the floor crossed her mind before her husband reached up and pulled her left breast free of the

top of her low-cut gown.

Kaelan's head lowered and his lips closed around the stiff bud of her nipple. He felt the tremor go

through his wife at his touch and clenched his teeth lightly around the puckered flesh, his lips pulling back

in a smile when Gilly's legs came up around his hips and her hands dug into the thickness of his hair.

“This is pure devilishness, Hesar,” she whispered against the top of his head and clenched her legs tighter