Sarah's Pirate (3 page)

She crawled further onto the bed and pressed herself against the wall, angling her body towards him, ready to attack if she had to.

“Yeah, well, after having my shoulder ripped out by your thugs, I’m not really inclined to believe that.”

He sat heavily on the bed and his hand reached out to briefly touch the side of her face. “I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t supposed to happen. My men were supposed to be healing your injuries, not making them worse.”

“Sure they were.” She forced herself to pull away from his warm touch. “Looks like your men don’t like taking orders very much.” She gave him her best glare, but her temper dissipated a little as he made no move towards her.

“I am the captain. They will do what I say or they’ll find themselves out the airlock.”

He said it with such quiet menace, such anger glittering in his eyes, that she had little choice but to believe him. She cringed closer to the wall, hating herself for her weakness. Where was her kickass attitude now when she needed it the most?

“Sarah,” he said quietly, waiting for her to look at him. “I will protect you with my life.”

“Oh, yeah? For how long? Until you get tired of me and then pass me around the crew? Isn’t that what pirates do?”

His head snapped back as if she’d punched him, and a hurt look flashed across his face before it quickly morphed into cold anger.

“I suppose that’s all you would see,” he said quietly as he turned his back to her.

Okay Sarah, here's your chance
, she thought.
Take it. Hit him hard and get moving
. But something held her still. Something about the way he sat tore at her soul and stalled her need to escape. She licked her lips nervously and lifted away from the wall, her body noticing and reacting to his masculine physique even if her mind refused to acknowledge it.

“Tell me what I should see, then,” she said softly. He turned towards her, his eyes so flat and emotionless that she almost cringed away from him again. The way he watched her felt very unnerving.

“It doesn’t matter what you see. There are clothes in that trunk” He lifted himself away from Sarah and pointed at a footlocker at the base of the bed. “Get dressed,” he ordered as he left the room without a backwards glance.

Sarah sat on the bed, uncertain what had just happened, but she tried to sort through it in her head. She wasn’t meant to be his play thing? Okay so that was good, wasn’t it? Or did he find her disagreeable enough to want nothing to do with her except pass her around the crew before shoving her out the airlock? But he wouldn’t really do that, would he? Regardless of these pirates’ reputations, she felt certain that he was an honorable man. She shivered at the confusing thoughts. Hell, she wished she knew something about anything at this stage. This pirate was very confusing.

* * * *

The door slid closed behind him as he left the room. He then turned to the control panel and quickly punched in a series of numbers, locking the door to all but him. As angry as he was, he wouldn’t risk her safety, and he would protect her with his life, whether the wild woman appreciated it or not.

God, what had he been thinking? Just because G’ntriel believed she was a good person, it didn’t mean that Sarah would somehow recognize something in him and be able to heal his tortured soul. He really was losing it if he thought that scrap of female fury could somehow offer him redemption.

He growled low in his throat, very aware that thoughts like that could get a captain killed on a pirate ship. Any show of weakness could precipitate a mutiny, and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared to defend both himself and the woman in his quarters from the entire crew. He’d try, but he’d die trying and she would be left to suffer at their hands, a fate worse than death if their past actions were anything to go by.

Straightening to his full height, he stalked through the corridors, projecting the ruthless personality he’d worked hard to cultivate.

“Andrews, sit-rep,” he commanded loudly as he entered the bridge.

His first mate quickly stood, his body language conveying his willingness to serve his captain.

“We’ve just reached the Flengorian System. ETA to Heltor approximately three hours.”

“Good.” Jordan barked. “Have we got a rendezvous point yet?”

“We haven’t been able to contact him yet, but it could be the distance. I don’t think their sub-space communication equipment is all that reliable. I’ll keep trying,” he added when he saw the look on his captain’s face.

“I'll be in my dining room. Call me when you get confirmation of our rendezvous point.”

“Yes, captain.”

Jordan entered the captain’s private dining room, glad for the first time that he had the choice to eat his meal away from the prying eyes of his crew. He often enjoyed their company, but today he couldn’t quite shake his melancholy. The fiery redhead was uppermost in his mind, and it wouldn’t do anyone any good if he was caught mooning over her.

Hell, when had he turned into such a sap? He’d made hundreds, maybe thousands, of difficult decisions since taking over as captain. What was it about the ball of fury currently occupying his bed that had him so on edge? He should’ve just shoved her back into that tin can she called a spaceship and sent her away. If the damn thing was no longer space-worthy, well that wasn’t really his fault. She’d made the choice to cut power the way she had, not him. Well, except that she wouldn’t have pulled such a dangerous stunt if his pirate ship hadn’t been stalking her, and of course, she’d honestly thought that she was delivering medicine to ill children.

Irritated with this line of thought that seemed to take him around and around in circles, Jordan stalked over to the food cabinet, quickly selected a condensed meal, and placed it in the rehydration unit. Within seconds, the delicious smell of braised beef and vegetables filled the room. Too bad it was synthetic beef. He could’ve used some real meat to sink his teeth into today.

He attacked the food with relish, savoring the mixture of flavors and textures and heartily enjoyed the captain’s privilege of choice. The mess hall was serving some type of pasta dish today and the rest of the crew had to like it or go hungry. A small niggle of guilt assailed him as he thought of Sarah sitting in his quarters going hungry, but there was no way he could let the crew see his ridiculous emotional attachment to her without putting her at risk. Several men in his employ wouldn’t think twice about using her to manipulate him.

He finished his meal as he pondered his next move, realizing that the only choice he had was to pretend that she was his play thing and when he tired with her, he’d happily share her around. He shuddered at the thought of that happening to any woman, but the ruse just may buy them some time until he could find a safe spot close to civilization where he could help her to escape.

He felt fairly certain that he could rely on G’ntriel's help and he figured that before this was over he was probably going to need it.

He selected a drink from the cooler, downing the beer in just a few deep swallows. He’d really meant to savor it, being
actual
beer and not that synthetic crap the space ports sold, but he’d been too busy solidifying his plan. The wild woman in his quarters was not going to like it, but well she hadn’t liked anything thus far, so why should he fret over her reaction?

His lips rose in a smirk as he envisioned the battle that was about to ensue.

* * * *

Sarah was almost asleep when the door to the cabin slid open. A huge, grossly overweight man ambled in carrying a tray of food and something blue and silky in his other hand. He tossed the scrap of fabric at her.

“Cap’n says you gotta put it on before I lets ya eat,” he said amicably, turning his back politely so that she could change in relative privacy. “Oh and he saids I gotta make sure you take off the rest. Just the lingerie he saids. Nuthin’ else.”

Sarah’s eyes widened in horror as she held up the scrap of fabric—barely enough material to cover her breasts and groin at the same time—and opened her mouth to argue, shaking her head in agitation.

“Sorry, luv,” the man said as he set a plate of food on the desk next to the photo frame. “But he also saids that if ya wouldn't follow mys instructions that he’d send them guys from the cell to make you change.”

Her blood ran hot and cold through her veins as memories of the pain from her dislocated shoulder assailed her. She fought back a whimper as she hurried to change. She pushed off the oversized jumpsuit she’d found in the footlocker and quickly removed her underwear. She pulled that scrap of silk and lace over her head and worked quickly to make sure she was covered in all the right areas.

“That’s much better, luv,” he said approvingly as he turned and gathered her clothes from the floor. “That color really suits ya. Brings out the color of yer eyes.”

Sarah blushed but was relieved to see him turn towards the doorway—even if he did carry her clothes under his arm. He was about to unlock the door when another thought occurred to him and he turned and waddled back into the room.

“Almost forgot,” he said sheepishly as he removed a link of chain and an ancient looking lock from his pocket. Sarah held her breath, wanting to fight him but terrified of what could happen if she did and failed. Thankfully, he walked past her, awkwardly lowered himself to his knees, and locked the footlocker at the base of the bed.

Sarah sighed in dejection. Her plan to pull on more clothes from the locker seemed quite successfully thwarted but at least he hadn’t chained her up and for that she was more than grateful. She watched him leave as she moved towards the food and lowered herself to the captain’s desk chair. She tried unsuccessfully to pull the scrap of fabric underneath her bottom but in the end she gave up the futile attempt and lowered her bare backside onto the seat. The cool fabric touched her flesh as heated thoughts danced through her head.

Damn, she must be freaking crazy if she was entertaining erotic thoughts about the captain. The man was most likely going to use her and then discard her like yesterday’s garbage. Wasn’t that what the scrap of lace, the dressing her for his pleasure thing was all about?

She ate the meal quickly and angrily pushed away any and all sexy thoughts, determined to be as strong as she could if and when an escape opportunity presented itself.

* * * *

Jordan checked the ship’s chronometer. He’d sent the cook over to his cabin almost an hour ago, a good long time for her to build up a really good temper. Not that the woman needed time. She could get good and mad with only a moment’s notice, but it worked into the ruse if she was spitting venom at him when he opened his cabin door. He’d made sure to have several witnesses on hand, so the crew could see that their captain was behaving as they expected.

He keyed in the code and then changed the access numbers again since he’d given the last code to the cook. He doubted the guy was a danger to her, his advanced age and obese body probably a hindrance when it came to arousal, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

The door slid open and quick as a flash, his cabin guest flew past him, using the element of surprise to push her way into the hall. He only just caught her wrist as she tried to slide by him, but barely managed to duck the fist that flew at his head. He twisted and deflected the viscous knee aimed at his groin as hauled her into his arms.

Laughing loudly, he pulled her squirming body against his, flattened his hand against the side of her face as he pressed her head into his chest and tried to hide how close she’d almost come to escaping him. The spitfire in his arms growled and screamed defiance at him, managing to attract even more attention than he’d been hoping for. Several of the crewmen moved closer, their facial expressions clearly showing their enjoyment. This little stunt couldn’t have gone better if they’d choreographed the whole thing together. Well, except for the whole nearly besting him part. Hell, she moved faster than anyone he'd ever seen.

He watched the faces of several of his men, and judged by their reactions that the scrap of lace she barely wore had ridden up her legs, exposing her ass to their salivating attention. One pirate even caressed his obvious erection as he slowly moved towards them. A little worried that the show was getting out of hand and would create the exact situation he was trying to avoid, he bent and hoisted her over his shoulder, her bare ass exposed to their audience. He slapped her hard, the noise reverberating around the hallway as she stopped wriggling and growled her annoyance. He slapped her again as he stepped into the room and quickly closed the door on their audience. Harsh male laughter flowed through the door as it slid across.

He stalked to the bed and dropped her roughly onto the mattress, angry at her for attacking him, but more irate at himself for not anticipating it. He was truly pissed off, of course, that she’d moaned in arousal the second time he’d smacked her. Even now, her cream rolled down the smooth flesh of her thighs. The sweet scent of her arousal sure wasn’t helping his peace of mind.

She scrambled to the other side of the bed and pressed herself against the wall, her anxiety seeming to override her body’s sensual reaction as he stood and glared at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled, annoyed at himself for caring how she looked at him. He’d set this up to protect her, but he didn’t expect a thank you.

She watched him warily as her eyes darted around the room, no doubt selecting objects to brain him with. He released his breath with a loud whoosh, suddenly more tired than he could ever remember. He turned and walked over to his desk, loosened the top button of his jumpsuit and slid the zipper part way down. What he wanted was another cold beer and about twelve hours worth of solid sleep, but with his fiery house guest he wasn’t going to hold out too much hope.