Eden's Pass (5 page)

She wanted to hit him again for his smugness, but her hands remained still as he said, “I thought that might make you see reason, my boy. Very well. Shall we continue? I should like my supper before dawn, if you’d not mind.”

There was no graceful way to lose. The only thing she could do was acquiesce… For now.

A smile played at her lips as she lifted her eyes to his. “Very well, Captain. What shall I fetch you?”

After a light supper of delicious fish stew, Iñigo pushed back his chair, growling, “And now, Finn, you will now assist me in readying for bed.”

It was fortunate she’d finished already, for she’d most likely have choked on her supper. Her belly clenched, but she said nothing, hoping she’d heard him wrong.
Nay,he did
not
say what I think he said.

He quickly disabused her of
that
notion.“Finn, now.”

His warning echoing in her head and her belly roiling over undressing him, she slowly rose from her chair. “What am I to do?”

“My dressing robe is in my armoire. Fetch it.”

She stomped over to the armoire to yank open both doors. Diving in, she rummaged about, finally coming up with what looked like a rectangle of emerald green silk. Ignoring the heady, musky scent rising from fine fabrics to tease her nose and rattle her senses, she pulled the rectangle out. “Is this what you want?”

He sat at the table, but got to his feet, nodding. “Aye. Now, come and help me undress.”

She slowly closed the door, clutching the sleek silk in one fist. It was as cool as the ice plummeting into her belly, and fluid to the touch. Without a doubt, it was the finest garment she’d ever touched.

She moved to stand before him, her belly alive with butterflies as she laid the robe on his vacated chair. Iñigo smiled down at her. “Help me undress.”

Heat filled her as he moved the silk and sunk into the chair to lift one booted foot. Stuffing down her rising humiliation, she turned and bent over, wincing as he planted his right foot firmly against her backside. Gripping his left boot, she pulled while he pushed against her with his right leg. The boot popped off and she managed to remain on her feet, able to repeat the action.

Her throat squeezed shut as he rose from the chair again. “Now my breeches, Finn.”

The blood drained from her face in a chilled rush even as the heat swelled within her. It took every effort to keep her voice from rising. “I-I beg your pardon, Captain?”

He was already unfastening the falls. “They’ll need to be laundered. Which will also be your chore, by the by.”

Whipping about as he opened his breeches, Finn fought to control the blasted, uncomfortable heat. Linen scraped against his skin. He was removing them. Her heart did something odd then. First, it seemed to stop beating, but then began hammering against her ribs at thrice its normal pace.

She dove for his boots, desperate for the diversion as linen hit the floor with a solid
whump.
With her cheeks flaming, she grabbed the boots, scurrying about him without looking, to fuss over them as she replaced them in the wardrobe.

Taking the greatest of care in arranging the boots inside the wardrobe, she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see what he offered in his state of undress. But the heat was unrelenting and she had to fight to keep from knocking other items out onto the floor as her hands quaked unexpectedly. Images leaped to her mind, and the heat burned hotter still.

“Something troubling you, boy?”

She jumped as his voice slit the silence. “Nay.”

“Shake a leg, Finn,” Iñigo growled, his impatience becoming very clear. “My clothes will not stow themselves.”

She had no choice but to face the Spaniard. She turned as slowly as possible, relieved to see he’d covered himself. Her relief was short-lived, though, for the robe did precious little to hide the magnificence of Iñigo Sebastiano's body. The green silk ended well above his knees, giving her an eyeful of muscle-laden thighs. She made haste to gather his discarded togs and stuff them in the roughly woven hemp basket. When she turned back, she was grateful to find him sitting at the table with his nose in a book. Another sigh. Disaster averted.

At least for now. Tomorrow, of course, was another day.

Chapter Five

Finn ignored her stomach’s rumbling, wondering if she’d made a wise decision. Somehow, she didn’t think she had. True, the one thing Iñigo couldn’t do was force her to eat. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about how delicious the fish stew had been the first night.

Four days had passed since the wonderful fish stew and she had forgotten how awful it was to go hungry for days on end. She resolved to keep refusing until he sent her to join the others instead of being his bloody cabin boy. Somehow, it wouldn’t seem at all terrible, being one of his crew, if only she could get away from him. If nothing else, at least she and Ennis would be together again.

Oh, the captain fought her, demanded she eat, but it did not keep her from refusing each meal. Each time, she merely replied that she would eat when he sent her to bed down with the others. And each time, she almost smiled as Iñigo's voice grew tighter and tighter, his patience stretched almost to its breaking point. Yet, she was quite careful to make certain she didn’t cross that point. The fear of the lash kept her just this side of it, which she hated almost as much as she told herself she hated him.

Of course, he had done nothing in return but issue threats, and she couldn’t decide if it was a good thing. That he might be storing each infraction away in his mind and letting them fester filled her with a sense of fear. Anticipation of what he might do to correct her behavior was almost as bad as actually being punished for her determined refusal to eat.

Bumping her booted foot against the wall, she set the hammock to swinging. Captain Sebastiano would return soon, but she was determined to laze about for as long as she could, for she was comfortable. The rough hemp hammock looked so out of place in the luxuriously appointed cabin it was almost amusing, and she gazed about at the beauty surrounding her.

“It’s difficult to believe a scoundrel such as Captain Sebastiano should have such refined tastes,” she muttered, eyeing the Persian carpet beneath the captain’s bed. There was only one other place where she’d ever seen such beautiful furnishings—the main house at Eden’s Pass.

She continued to swing slowly, enjoying the tang of sea air filling the cabin. Behind her, a step down from the rest of the cabin, the wall was lined with small windows of rippled glass, which were open to allow the cooling breeze to waft through the room. Finn sighed deeply, breathing in the comforting, tangy salt air. She spent most of her day above deck, but it still wasn’t enough. It would never be long enough, as she far preferred being above deck over being tucked away below.

She stared at the fine mahogany armoire opposite her bed, wishing she dared raid it in search of clean clothing. Her skin was sticky and itchy, and her scalp was about driving her mad. The bandages wound tight about her chest seemed to have sliced down to bone, burning with the slightest of movement. Despite his assessment of the way she smelled, Captain Sebastiano had yet to offer her more than a blasted ewer of tepid water and it very nearly drove her mad.

Despite its musty smell, the hammock was quite comfortable. The hemp was old and softened, though not worn enough for her to fear it breaking. Rather, it cradled her gently, and its gentle sway was enough to ease her into slumber each night, even as her mind whirled with visions of escape—the only way she could keep her mind off the more uncomfortable tasks, such as undressing him each evening. It was most difficult, keeping her eyes averted as much as possible but without letting him know she was avoiding looking at him.

If Iñigo found her behavior odd, he made no mention of it. Of course, she’d been most careful to keep him from seeing her screw her eyes shut. After all, she was supposed to be a male, and surely a boy would not squirm with embarrassment simply because another man undressed in front of him.

She stared back up at the ceiling as she swayed in rhythm with the ship’s rise and fall. “So far, so good. I only hope he hasn’t begun to wonder why his cabin boy is so squeamish.”

Her stomach growled, a wave of nausea rising with it. Her muscles were shaky, but she ignored them. Captain Sebastiano would relent eventually. At least, she hoped he would.

The sun sank, its brilliant gold rays giving way to dusk. She was about to hop down to light one of the lamps when the door opened and Iñigo stepped into the cabin. She froze, dangling down from the side of the hammock. He didn’t say a word at first, but merely watched as she struggled to hoist herself back into the hammock without any success.

“Give it a rest, Finn.” The floor creaked and the cabin glowed in buttery light as Iñigo lit a lamp. “Now tell me, how much longer do you plan to starve yourself? I’m growing most tired of this battle of wills you insist upon waging with me.”

She ignored the heat creeping into her cheeks. His tone was mild, but there was no mistaking the exasperation woven into his words. Gripping the rough hemp, she heaved, dragging herself back into the hammock once more. Exhausted from the effort, she fought to keep from panting as her entire body trembled.

The floorboards creaked again as he crossed to the hammock and gripped a handful of worn hemp. “Answer me,
muchacho
, or be assured I’ll toss you to the floor.”

“I’ve finished my chores, Captain. There is naught for me to do now.”

“Is that so? I beg to differ, lad. It’s
my
decision when you’ve finished for the day and I’ve decided your day has not yet ended.”

It was a calculated risk, but one she had to take. She uncrossed, then re-crossed her ankles. Pursing her lips, a mournful tune whistled to split the sudden silence.

It hung in the air for a moment, only fading when Iñigo jerked the hemp. “What the—” she sputtered as the hammock tilted sharply and she toppled, quite gracelessly, to hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Next time, you
will
answer me.” Iñigo nudged her with the toe of his boot. “Now, on your feet. It’s high time this foolishness ceased and you do as you are told. I’ve had quite enough of your picking and choosing when you will obey. Did you show such idiocy under Beauregard's command?”

Her cheek pressed into the crease of the floor, she muttered, “I did not. Then again, I
chose
to be in his service. I did
not
choose to be in yours.”

“Is that so?” Iñigo's voice held a hint of a smile. “Be that as it may, I have warned you about this behavior on more than one occasion. As I said before now, I have other ways of dealing with such bullheadedness.”

A chill permeated the cabin and she swallowed hard, no longer seeing the floor. “The lash…”

“Ah, you do remember my words. At least I know you listen. I’ve warned you more often than I find practical and now the warnings shall cease. You will first receive five lashes. If then, you still defy me, I will order ten. Then fifteen. And so on.” She lifted her head to meet his glare and he nodded. “I see you understand where I am going with this. Do you know what happens to flesh and bone when I order fifty lashes, boy?”

Without waiting for an answer, he crouched down, catching her chin in his hand. “You will die a slow, painful death. I have no use for a cabin boy who fights me as often as you do, Finn. I care not what happens to you, as you are quite expendable and most definitely replaceable.”

Bile rose sharply to fill her mouth with a sickly-sweet taste. Still, she dragged in a ragged breath to hiss, “Bastard.”

He released her with a chuckle, straightening up and taking a step back. “Ah, you wound me, lad. I thought you would have something a bit more impressive for my ears.”

Rolling onto her back, she willed herself to sit upright, resting her forearms on her drawn-up knees. “Am I to let you taunt me into angering you, then?”

“What makes you think I am not already angry?”

She shrugged as if it were quite obvious. “You’ve done nothing to suggest otherwise.”

“Mayhap I am simply biding my time, boy.”

The fear she’d refused to feel thus far erupted like a cannon blast, spilling through her innards like molten iron. She remained silent, though her eyes never left his. His eyes were darker now, glowing like amber coals. Her entire body continued to tremble, although she preferred to think it was due to her lack of sustenance. Linking her fingers together between her knees, she replied, “Is that what you are doing?”

His slow smile never reached his eyes. “And do you think I will answer? I find it far more satisfactory to let you stew in wonder, in breathless anticipation as you await your punishment for this insolence you insist on showing me.”

A wave of dizziness crashed over her and she swallowed hard against it as she rose up onto unsteady legs. Sheer, stubborn will kept her on her feet and she resisted the urge to brace herself against the wall. “And what makes you think I am doing that at all?”

He took a step closer. “You are.”

“I am doing no such thing. I am merely biding my time. Sooner or later, I plan on making my escape, you know. I
will
be free.”

“Of course. And I am certain, in your mind, it’s a glorious event as well. You besting me when I least expect it, leaving me to scratch my head and wonder where you’ve disappeared to. However, allow me to correct you, boy. If you wish to disappear, feel free to do so. As I said, I will be quite able to replace you. You might wish to think it through carefully, though, dear boy. You might find life on land to be less than desirable. Why do you think so many take to the sea?”

She snorted. “Of the two, I find
this
to be less than desirable. And mark my words, one day, I will be free of you. I find myself nearly breathless with anticipation over it.”

Iñigo's chuckle was icy, mirthless. “I’m certain you do, boy. I am certain you do. And what grand plans have you for this idyllic life on terra firma?”

She didn’t know what
terra firma
meant, but was not about to let him know it. Instead, she sniffed, tossing her head. “I will buy a ship of my own and hunt you down. It will be my only goal, to blow your ship out of the water. To take it from you, as you stole mine.”

What had been a chuckle erupted into a full-fledged roar of laughter. “That, dear boy, is the grandest of plans. I commend you, Finn, I truly do.” He bowed low, sweeping his right arm out in a grand gesture. “And I am flattered that I have, in the span of four days, become the object of your main goal in life. Truly and deeply flattered. Though I must also say, your naïveté is most refreshing. You truly believe Beauregard was going to simply
give
you his ship?”

His smug tone poked at her ire. “Of course. That was our bargain.”

“Oh, I am certain it was.”

“And what mean you by that?”

A careless shrug, followed by, “Oh, nothing. But again, I am most flattered by how your aspirations have changed.”

“I care not how flattered you are, Spaniard,” she scoffed. “I simply do not see you as much of a challenge.”

“I think you hold a rather high opinion of yourself, Finn. Especially since
you
are serving
me
and not the other way around. I applaud your arrogance, but know this—arrogance such as yours will get you into trouble one of these days.” His smile faded and he shook his head. “Now, I have arranged for my tub to be brought up here this evening. You will assist me with my bath and after, you will take one yourself. I could practically smell your stench in the corridor.”

Finn's cheeks grew hot and Iñigo's surprised expression only made her blush worse. The harder she fought it down, the hotter her face burned. When she feared she might actually erupt into flames, the Spaniard growled, “Have I said something to embarrass you, boy?”

Damnation!
Finn fumed, struggling to will the blasted heat from her cheeks. “Of course not. It’s a mite warm in here, is all.”

He didn’t look as though he believed her, but all he did was shrug. “If you think so, I will open the window for you. The last thing I wish is for you to sweat on top of the layer of filth you already carry.”

Finn winced at his words, wondering why she should care what he thought of her, or how she smelled. It made no sense for her to be mortified by this man’s finding her malodorous. Still, she swallowed her regret, muttering, “I’ll not bathe.”

He didn’t answer and the silence pressed down on her with growing force. When she could bear it no longer, she lifted her eyes to his and almost stepped back at the fire building in his eyes, bringing them to life. They filled with an angry fire, yet she still refused to relent. “Aye, you heard me correctly. I’ll not bathe. Nor will I assist you in any way.”

“
¡Dios mío!
” Iñigo snarled, throwing his hands into the air. “Enough! You
will
do as I order you, boy. Understand you this?” Iñigo grabbed a fistful of her tunic, practically lifting her from her feet as he dragged her toward the door.

Flinching was instinctive and she cursed as she flinched anyway. Regaining her composure as quickly as she’d lost it, she pulled her voice from the soles of her feet, growling, “Unhand me at once!”

“
¡Silencio!
” Iñigo hissed, yanking open the door and shoving her through it. “You will learn your place, boy. Five lashes ought to suffice.”

Her stomach kinked, churning as he dragged her toward the steps. Nausea, swift and powerful, rose up. Bile filled her mouth. Her vision swam as her feet thunked dully against each step, the dizziness growing stronger still as they reached topside.