Dreaming (19 page)

Another choked shout.

His chest began to ache for air.

Seconds ticked by.

Jump, dammit!

Sporatic
cannons still blasted, splashing near the port bow or sailing over to the starboard, but this side was still clear.

His lungs swelled to bursting.

Jump! Jump!

Then she screamed so loudly she probably warned both ships, but the sound of it had a decided echo and grew louder . . . and louder . . .

She hit the water a good twenty feet away. When the hellion jumped, she jumped. From the backwash, he’d say she did so with the same amount of grace with which she danced: none.

He hadn’t known one could smile with one’s face underwater. But he had, and was. She splashed around and swam toward him. He covertly turned his head to the opposite side and took in air, then floated very still.

Now, did he give himself away, grab her, and drag her to the waiting skiff, or did he continue his act and let her save him?

He spent about a second in thought. If the next cannonball landed on the port side of the bow, he’d grab her. If the next cannonball landed on the starboard side, he would continue to float.

Yes, that was it, he thought, gloating somewhat for the way he’d outsmarted the hellion, congratulating himself because, in actuality, he’d also outsmarted fate, fortune, and—feeling quite cocky—even God.

The next cannonball landed in the skiff.

Chapter 11

Not even in her wildest dreams did
Letty
Hornsby think she would ever be aboard a pirate ship. She amended that: a privateer. But here she was, captive again, yet more fascinated then frightened. With Richard at her side and Gus at her feet, she was surrounded by those whom she knew would protect her.

She’d proudly reminded Richard that she was not a female prone to hysteria as they were hauled out of the water. His only comment had been that innocence was a gift to protect fools. Then he’d mumbled something about fools losing their innocence and becoming idiots who made stupid decisions based on the whim of some bloody cannonball.

She hadn’t understood what he’d meant then and she still didn’t as she stood in a long human line across the deck: Richard, Gus, and herself;
Phelim
,
Philbert
,
Phineas
, and the remainder of the smuggling crew, except for Harry, who was unconscious.

At gunpoint, he had boarded with the rest of the crew, then immediately tripped over an anchor chain and hit his head on a nearby cannon. He had been going for her throat at the time.

Letty
cast a timid glance at him and blanched, remembering him crossing the boarding plank and how quickly his face had changed when he saw her. His hands became
clawlike
and reached out. He never saw the chain.

Now, however, he looked rather peaceful, lying there on the deck. But the thought crossed her mind that she should have the good sense to be cautious should she happen to be nearby when he came to. He seemed to think her very presence a bad omen. Women on a ship and all that, she supposed.

She glanced up at Richard, who watched the pirates closely, his face unreadable. His inscrutable stare shifted to the man she assumed was the captain, a man with deep red hair and a reddish gold beard. He had just come above board a moment before and now silently stood before them.

He was striking at first glance, someone whose stature left no doubt that he would stand out in any room. A man not to be forgotten. The dark shirt and breeches were common enough, as were his tall black boots. But taken as a whole, the unrelenting dark of his cloth, the power of his build, and the long woolen coat, stark black, that hung from his wide shoulders, gave the man the sinister quality of the devil.

More ominous than his dark attire was the attitude he wore. He was a man who was used to winning, a man whose demeanor said he frequently toyed with chance, yet never lost. There was a subtle shrewdness to the way he examined them through a steely black-eyed gaze that said he knew each of them only too well with a brief glance, and subsequently found them vastly amusing.

Richard’s stance showed he had come to the same conclusion. He was standing to his full height, straight, somewhat regal, a fallen angel facing the devil that had felled him. There was a wary respect in the look they exchanged, a kind of silent communication that one sees between two keen-eyed dogs who are challenging each other.

Letty
looked down at Gus, who was uncommonly quiet, neither taking to nor advancing on the man. He seemed perfectly content to just sit at her feet. She had never seen him more controlled.

The pirate leaned languidly against the bulwark and picked a pinch of something from his shirt pocket and tossed it into his mouth. Before she could wonder what it was, he signaled to someone with a slight wave of his hand. She caught a glimpse of movement, turned, and saw another pirate wearing a red bandanna with a shock of white hair sticking out of it.

Despite the stark color of his hair, the man was not old. There was something about him that said he was untouched by time.

Perhaps it was his slender, almost fragile build, perhaps it was the way he ranged catlike through the crates and barrels of contraband that had been transferred from the other ship. But whatever, the slim man didn’t fit her image of a hard, sea-bitten pirate.

“Gabriel.” The captain spoke the name in a blunt statement, as if the fellow owed him his existence.

The sound of the dark captain’s voice sent chills over
Letty
. It was calm and very lethal. And she had foolishly told herself she wasn’t afraid. Something swelled inside her—fear, mixed with some emotion that threatened to run rampant. Hysteria. She, who had never succumbed to a fit of the vapors, was on the very edge of doing so.

Almost instinctively, she slid her shaking hand into Richard’s and felt comfort from the firm strength of his responding grip. From the corner of her eye she caught a small flicker of something in his eyes, but it happened so quickly she didn’t know what emotion she’d seen.

As if mentally commanded to do so, she turned back to the pirate captain. He didn’t look up, but instead spent an inordinate number of tense seconds scoring a piece of wood with a deadly-looking dagger.

He flicked a shaving over his shoulder and asked casually, “What day is this, Gabriel?”

“Wednesday,
Capt’n
Hamish,” Gabriel answered in a Gaelic purr.

“Ah, yes. So it is.” Hamish paused in a way that was pure calculation, and the tension grew in the silence. One had the feeling that was exactly what he wanted. Another eternal moment, and he continued, “A dull day.
Deadly
dull day.”

He shoved off the bulwark with a lithe push of his boot and slowly raised his bearded head, gazing down the line of captives with a bored look. He strolled past each captive like a merchant forced to examine damaged goods.

Pausing in front of
Phelim
,
Philbert
, and
Phineas
, he casually scratched a corner of his mouth with the tip of the dagger and examined each identical man with idle curiosity. “How odd.”

He moved the dagger tip toward an already skittish
Phineas
, who watched the blade through wide frightened eyes and whose skin slowly drained of color.

The closer the dagger came, the paler the man got. Just a scant inch away . . .

“Don’t!”
Letty
cried.

But poor frightened
Phineas
weaved slightly, then his eyes rolled back and he fainted dead away.

Hamish glanced down, vastly amused. “Interesting . . . ”

Phelim
bristled, and
Philbert
tried to grab him, muttering about his sanity, but it was too late. The gruff and bandy little smuggler puffed out his chest and spouted, “Who be ye to frighten the wits from me brother?”

“Wits?” Hamish frowned at
Phineas
sprawled on the deck. “Surely you jest.” He pulled his gaze away and swept slowly over
Phelim
with an assessing glance. He stopped at neck level, where the
eyepatch
hung from a string around
Phelim’s
neck. “Well now, what have we here?” He reached out and lifted the patch by
daggerpoint
. “Hmmm. An
eyepatch
?” He pinned
Phelim
with a wry look. “Wear this for effect, do you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned. “I believe, Gabriel, that I’ve been sorely remiss in my attire.” In an instant his dagger hand shot out toward
Phelim
.

Letty
gasped and every conscious prisoner flinched or stiffened.

Hamish pulled back the dagger and the
eyepatch
dangled from it. “Why thank you, my friend,” he drawled, giving
Phelim
a humorless smile. “Consider it shared booty among fellow thieves.”

He stepped away.

Bristling,
Phelim
opened his mouth.

“One more thing.” Captain Hamish turned back around. “Another word from you, only one word, and you’ll have need of the
eyepatch
.”

Philbert’s
hand closed over his brother’s mouth.

Hamish gave the silent
Philbert
an amused look. “Odds were in your favor that one of you had to have some sense.”

A moment later he stood in front of Richard and
Letty
. She caught the distinct scent of cloves. “My, my, look at this.”

Richard’s fingers tightened over hers.

Hamish stared pointedly at their clasped hands, then slowly raised his dark gaze to first
Letty
, then Richard. He waited for interminable seconds, then cracked a feigned smile of indulgence. “Sweet.”

He walked around them slowly, and
Letty
could feel his every look. She stood stiff and still, perfectly aware of the quiver of real fear running through her, but just as aware of the reassuring squeeze of encouragement she received from Richard. Her fingers tightened around his.

She tried to think about him only and block out everything around her. She closed her eyes in an effort to concentrate. The warmth of his hand was her lifeline. Through the tips of her fingers she could feel his heartbeat. It was steady, not rushing and thudding like hers, and she took a deep breath.

The salty dampness of the cool sea air was an instant reminder of where they were. In the tense absence of any human voice, her senses attuned to the caw of the gulls, the rocking creak that seemed the constant call of a seaward ship, and she heard the slow, ominous tap of Hamish’s boots as he circled them.

“Gentry if I’ve ever seen it. Now what do you suppose a
toff
like him and this little lady are doing aboard a smuggling
lugger
?” He stopped in front of
Letty
. “Suppose you tell me, my dear.”

She raised her face and looked in his shrewd eyes. She couldn’t utter a word.

“What do you think, Gabriel? Cat got her tongue?”

“Leave her alone,” Richard said with deceptive quiet.

Hamish raised his eyebrows suggestively and looked at Richard, who returned his look with a cold stare.

“Ah,” Hamish said in knowing tone. “A hero.”

Richard’s jaw tightened.

Hamish looked at Gabriel, then back to Richard, and he gave a wicked laugh. “I’d wager he’s gotten her tongue.”

Richard’s hand crushed hers. She gasped in pain and looked up at him horrified when she saw him draw back a fist.

A pistol shot froze everyone.

“That’s quite enough!” came a voice so commanding
Letty
had the odd feeling that she had just heard God speak. She whipped her head around.

The bright sun limned the slim black form of a man standing on the
topdeck
. He stood in the stance of one familiar with the sea, his back straight and his legs spread to absorb the ebb and flow of the ship’s motion. His face, his features, almost everything was in shadow. All one could see was his lithe silhouette. He slowly lowered a hand with a smoking pistol.

“There you are, Dion,” Hamish said in a bland tone. “I wondered how long it would be before you’d come and spoil my amusement.”