Island Flame (12 page)

“You look like a pirate,” she accused as she joined him on the quarterdeck.

“I am,” he answered shortly. “A fact that you would do well to remember, sweet, lest I be forced to remind you.”

Cathy was taken aback at the curt warning. After his gentleness with her that morning and his impassioned lovemaking of the night before, she had been confident that she would soon have him eating out of her hand. Suddenly she was not quite so sure. He had experienced many women; was her woefully ignorant body strong enough to give her the upper hand in their relationship? She didn’t know. But it was the only trump card she held, and she had no choice but to play it.

Looking up at him coquettishly, she was piqued to find his attention fixed not on her, but on some far distant spot on the horizon.

“Looking for my rescuers?” she needled.

He glanced at her briefly, expressionlessly, then looked away.

“Your rescuers, as you call them, lost us in the storm. There’s been no sign of them for some days. And as the
Margarita
is now sailing a totally different course than she was when they last set eyes on us, I have no expectation of ridding myself of you in such a satisfactory way.”

“If you were so anxious to be rid of me, why didn’t you put me adrift in one of those little boats that first night?
I’m sure the Royal Navy would have been delighted to pick me up.”

“Ahh, but I had a use for you that first night.” The wicked glance he sent her way left Cathy in no doubt as to his meaning. Cheeks flushing, she glanced quickly around to see if anyone besides herself was within hearing distance. Only Harry and an older, heavyset sailor were near, and they were both stolidly concentrating on the tasks they had to hand. But something in their expression made Cathy certain that they listened to what she and Jon had to say with great interest.

“I notice that you express no concern over the fate of your fellow captives.”

Jon’s words brought her eyes swinging back around to him.

“I—why, of course I’m concerned,” she said mendaciously. To tell the truth, she had been far too concerned over her own safety to worry unduly about three relative strangers. But Jon didn’t have to know that. “I merely assumed that, since you stand to make a great deal of money from their ransoms, your own self-interest would assure that they were kept safe. Was I wrong?”

“Not wrong, my cat,” he murmured. “Just a little too sharp-tongued. A fault that a bout with another cat would soon remedy.”

Cathy was disconcerted by his inexplicable change of manner toward her. What ailed him? They hadn’t quarreled. Was he angry with her for some unknown reason? Well, she would endure twenty cat-o’-nine-tails before she would beg for quarter from him! He could do his worst!

“Do what you deem necessary, Captain,” she said
coldly. “I was always told that pirates should be feared as a cruel, bloodthirsty lot!”

“And were you never told that pride goeth before a fall, my lady?” His voice was hard. “A single stroke with the cat on your bare back would have you crawling on your knees to me for mercy.”

“But then you’d cheat yourself of your pleasure, wouldn’t you, Captain?” Cathy smiled triumphantly, knowing that she had him there. He would not whip her for the simple reason that he would then no longer be able to bed her. The rogue’s own selfishness and lust were her protection.

“Would I?” He smiled slowly down into her eyes. “Your being whipped would not hamper my lovemaking particularly. True, you might find it painful, but pirates are notoriously unconcerned with the comfort of their prisoners.”

“You …” Cathy began hotly, only to stop short as Harry came to join them at the rail. Jon glanced at him impatiently. Harry looked uncomfortable.

“Begging your pardon, Cap’n, but it’s time for the prisoners to be brought up for exercise. Shall I see to it?”

“Aye,” Jon answered brusquely, then swung away so that his broad back was facing Cathy.

She stood, biting her lip, as her companions in misfortune were brought up from the hold. She only glanced their way as they came stumbling up the stairs by the forecastle, her mind more concerned with Jon’s strange behavior than their plight. Then she looked again. All three of them were blinking against the bright sunlight, their faces pale and thin, their clothes dirty and crumpled. They looked as if they hadn’t had a square meal or a wash since being brought on board the
Margarita
almost a week before.
Cathy’s mouth formed a little “oh” of shocked amazement. If she had thought about her fellow captives at all, she had assumed that they were being fed and housed much the same as she was, the only difference being that they were not forced to share anyone’s bed. She now saw her mistake. Except for one detail, her fate had plainly been far better than theirs! She felt a sharp stab of indignation at Jon that he should treat them so inhumanely.

Head high, back stiffened angrily, she gathered her skirts in her hand and began to regally descend from the quarterdeck. Jon called after her peremptorily, but she ignored him with a defiant toss of her head. After all, what could he do to her that he hadn’t already done? His remark regarding a bout with the cat crossed her mind, but she shrugged it aside. He would find that she was not so easily cowed!

“Your Grace?” Cathy had crossed the planked deck quickly and was at the Duchess’s side. The old woman turned her head at Cathy’s words and then, as she saw who it was that had addressed her, a slight smile broke through the strain that etched her face.

“Lady Catherine! It’s good to see you looking so well. I had begun to fear for your safety, when you did not join us.”

“She was obviously offered a warmer berth,” the merchant’s wife, not so fat as she had once been, put in snidely, looking Cathy up and down as if the girl had just crawled out from under a rock. “I see they gave you at least a change of clothes, my lady. But then, the Duchess and I didn’t share our favors with them.”

“You will kindly be silent, Mistress Grady,” the Duchess said, speaking with the authority to which her high rank had accustomed her. “If Lady Catherine has fared better than ourselves, then I am sure it is through no fault
of hers. If not … well, I’m sure that was through no fault of hers either.”

Chastened, Mistress Grady turned sullenly away. The Duchess looked keenly at Cathy.

“Have you been ill-treated?” she asked in a low voice.

Cathy could feel color rushing to her cheeks, but she answered as calmly as she could. “No, your Grace. Not—not really.”

As a general rule Cathy scorned lies and liars, but she knew, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that her whole future depended upon not allowing anyone to guess what she had actually suffered. The stigma of rape was all pervading. Once it had attached itself to her, her hopes for a brilliant marriage, or indeed any marriage at all, would be gone forever. In Victoria’s England, an unchaste, unmarried female was automatically labeled a whore; the circumstances under which that female had become unchaste made not a particle of difference.

“I see.” The old woman’s eyes scanned Cathy’s face thoroughly, but there was nothing in her expression to indicate disbelief. Cathy heaved an inward sigh of relief. “Where have they put you, child?”

“I—I—the captain has been kind enough to let me have the use of his cabin.” Which was certainly true. She did have the use of Jon’s cabin. It was no business of anyone’s what price he exacted from her for the privilege.

“That was gentlemanly of him. I must confess that I’m surprised. Most likely you remind him of a young sister, or even a daughter. Even cutthroats have their soft spots, I suppose.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure that’s it.” Cathy was feeling more and more uncomfortable. She felt that her shame must be
branded into the soft flesh of her forehead. Quickly she changed the subject. “Tell me, your Grace, how goes it with you and—um—Mister and Mistress Grady?”

The Duchess looked ruefully down at the stained dress that hung on her now bony frame. “Things have not been too well with us, as you can see. But at least we are alive, and I suppose we must thank God for it. These pirates usually think nothing of murdering innocent people out of hand. They are a brutal, lawless bunch.”

“Indeed, ma’am, you are right. We are both brutal and lawless.”

Cathy jumped as Jon’s hands bit hard into the thinly-covered flesh of her shoulders. She should have guessed that he would come after her. His arrogant pride would not allow him to let her get by with ignoring his commands in front of his crew. The question was, would he give her away? She threw an unconsciously pleading look over her shoulder at him, trying very casually to shrug free of his touch. To her surprise, he let her go.

“I’m glad you realize it, young man. If you keep to your present way of life, you will surely hang.” The Duchess’s voice was scornful. Jon’s mouth tightened, and Cathy suddenly feared for the old woman. He was in no mood to take impertinence lightly.

“Undoubtedly, ma’am.” Cathy relaxed as Jon replied with only a slight impatience. “But my men and I infinitely prefer hanging to starving.”

The Duchess stared at Jon icily. She was an old woman, her life almost over. She did not fear death, but neither did she intend to invite it prematurely. This man was a pirate, and by definition murder was his trade. She modified the harshness of her tone.

“Lady Catherine tells me that her accommodations have been somewhat better than ours. For that I am grateful. She is still very young, and it would be an abomination if she were to be misused.” Her words conveyed an unmistakable warning to Jon. Cathy swallowed convulsively. Surely he would not expose her! After all, he would gain nothing from her disgrace.

“As you say, she is very young,” Jon replied slowly, his face expressionless. “I thought it best to put her where she would be out of harm’s way. As for the lack in your accommodations, for that I am truly sorry. But you must realize that the
Margarita
is not a luxury vessel.”

“That’s quite obvious, young man. When may we expect to be released?”

“Arrangements will be made, as soon as possible, after the
Margarita
makes port. Possibly some ten days from now.”

“I assure you, Captain, that you cannot move too quickly for any of us.”

“I am sure I cannot. And now, ma’am, my men have other duties that call them. If you are ready, they will escort you below.”

“Ah, certainly. It never does to pull a tiger’s tail, does it?” the Duchess said grimly, and, without waiting for a reply, turned to go below.

A sailor who had been loosely guarding the prisoners caught the old woman’s arm none too gently. Another shooed the Gradys before him like a pair of squawking geese. Cathy, watching the Duchess’s gaunt face as it set into an expression of tired endurance, felt an almost physical pang of pity. She had to do what she could to help. Her conscience would never let her rest, otherwise.

“Wait!” she cried impulsively. Then, to Jon, “You cannot
continue to treat them in such a barbarous fashion! It’s cruel, inhuman! If they are to be treated so unkindly, then I insist on suffering with them!”

Jon looked her over from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Cathy felt chilled by that hard look, but she proudly stood her ground. It was possible that he would take her at her word, and order her to be taken below. If so, then she would have exchanged good food and a soft bed for the return of her honor, slightly tarnished. If not, if he refused to deny himself the comforts of her body for the sake of teaching her a lesson, then she could likewise refuse to submit to him unless the other prisoners were decently fed and housed. Of course, he could always resort to brute force. But she was beginning to suspect that he might find that highly unsatisfactory. Or so she hoped.

“What did you say?” His voice was softly threatening, meant for her ears alone. Cathy’s eyes flashed defiantly.

“I demand that you treat the other prisoners decently. It’s brutal of you to abuse them in such a way! If they are to be starved and kept locked up, then so shall I be!”

“My sweet, if you insist on being starved and locked up, then I have no objection. But it will be done on my orders, not yours.”

His voice was still low. Cathy hoped that the others had not heard the casual endearment with which he had preceded his words. Common sense told her to back off while she could still do it gracefully. Pride refused to let her.

“We should all be treated the same way,” she argued recklessly. “If I am to be well-fed and housed then they should be, too.”

Jon shook his head at her. “You don’t learn very quickly, do you, little cat? I am captain of this ship, and
I give the orders. Don’t think that just because you share my bed that you can tell me what to do!”

Cathy gasped, looking quickly over her shoulder, praying that his crude words had not been overheard. Her hopes were in vain. Mister and Mistress Grady were eyeing her with shocked avidity while the Duchess’s eyes were sorrowing. Cathy turned fiery red. Though she had brought this publicity of her disgrace upon herself, she refused to admit it. She felt that she hated Jon almost more for betraying her shame than for causing it. She would never forgive him, never!

“I hate you!” she whispered fiercely as he motioned the grinning sailors to take the other three prisoners below. He caught Cathy roughly by the arm, dragging her after him as he strode toward his cabin.

“Save your tantrums until we are alone, if you please,” he said crisply. “Otherwise I’ll be obliged to quell them in an equally public way!”

“You didn’t have to say what you did! Isn’t it bad enough what you’ve done to me, without telling the world? Are you so vain about your conquests, Captain, that you must make certain that everyone knows of them?”

“I said shut up!” The barely restrained savagery of his tone got through to her. She wisely did as she was told, but her chin jutted mutinously as he half shoved her before him into the cabin.

“You did that deliberately,” Cathy charged in a shaking voice as he kicked the door shut after them.

“I didn’t have to.” Jon’s reply was calm as he leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. He showed no trace of the anger he had exhibited just seconds ago. “They knew anyway. Do you think they’re fools?”