With the cry of "Oohh-Rahhh!" Tess pushed off, sailing through the darkness, feet first. Her heels con- 126.

nected with the turbaned head, and she heard a sickening crack, yet the momentum forced her high into the air and she smacked into a charred sail like a fly against a swatter. Holding onto the rope for dear life as she dangled uncontrollably, Tess shook her head, then slithered down to the deck. Then wished she'd stayed up there. Turban lay beside the capstan, his neck twisted at an impossible angle.

Dane caught a glimpse of the machete and its dead owner. "You fight with no honor, Bennett," he snarled. "And tonight you die with none." Driven by revenge, Dane's muscled arm shot forward, his fist cracking against jawbone, sending Bennett against the rail and nearly dumping him in the water. It isn't over yet, Dane thought, I haven't tasted enough blood.

Bennett stared into those determined eyes and saw his death plainly etched. The man was possessed, in league with the devil, he thought, and he's been playing with me since the first. d.a.m.n you, Phillip, and your arrogance!

Growing tired of this squabble, Dane set upon the man with a vengeance, thrust, parry, thrust, the first laying open the man's cheek, the second cut slitting his coat crossways from shoulder to hip. Blood burst across the yellow fabric. Bennett went mad, his powdered wig slipping over his forehead until he discarded it into the sea, the bald pate amusing Dane and enraging the Englishman. Bennett swiped the air in a wild frenzy, overextending his thrust.

Dane allowed the man to advance several steps and in the process found himself backed up against someone.

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"Hate to interrupt this splendid sword fight, Black-well, but this tub is on fire." Her words were rapid, frightened.

Dane's eyes widened a fraction at the familiar voice, his heart skipping a beat. How the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l did she get here? he wondered, then pulled her close behind him, his sword swiping so close to Bennett's face the man jerked back.

"You haven't the sense G.o.d gave a pea, woman," he growled, then with the blade point plucked several b.u.t.tons from Bennett's shirt.

"I'm impressed, Blackwell, but-" She gulped, her eyes darting to the flames quickly engulfing the ship. The vessel rocked and the foremast toppled, its top gallant crumbling into the sea. "Oh, G.o.d! See what I mean!" she choked, gripping the back of his shirt.

"Strike your colors, Bennett," he demanded in a cold voice.

"Nay, Blackwell, never." Bennett lunged, aiming for Dane's heart.

It was a flash of a moment. Dane caught the thrust, twisted his wrist in a spiral motion, and Tess watched as he made three sharp revolutions, the fourth flinging Bennett's sword straight up into the air. As if in slow motion, it tumbled end over end, plummeting to the sea. An instant later Dane's blade point was tucked beneath Bennett's chin, bringing the man up short.

"Do you beg quarter?" Dane asked, and Tess's soft gasp made him step back. His free hand caught the knife heading for his stomach, and before Bennett could reply, Dane sent the cutla.s.s deep into his heart. Bennett slithered to the deck noiselessly.

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Tess's stomach lurched as Dane callously yanked the blade from Bennett's chest, swiped it across the man's yellow coat, then returned it to its loop. He grabbed her arm, tugging her from the gruesome sight as she continued to gape at the dead man.

"Where the, h.e.l.l are you going?" she cried, jerking free when he started down the burning ship's com-panionway. "It's going to sink!" Men jumped overboard, and Tess felt the almost uncontrollable urge to join them.

"There are maps and pilot rudders aboard I must possess," he said, descending the ladder.

Not knowing what else to do, Tess followed and under less terrifying circ.u.mstances she would have smiled when he repeatedly banged his head on the ceiling. The cabin was a cracker box.

Dane rifled through the desk, ignoring her frightened expression and gathering up all he could. After stuffing the items down his shirt, he dragged her out of the cabin, his long strides forcing her to run. He didn't give her a chance to mount the steps and slung her over his shoulder.

"I got over here on my own, Blackwell. I can certainly get back!"

He didn't respond. The second they were topside he called across to his first mate, ordering speed as he stepped over bodies and debris.

"Your Neanderthal qualities are showing, Conan."

He grasped a rope, checked its stability, then wrapped an arm beneath her bottom, slipping a hand between her legs and gripping his own shirt for security.

"Blackwell?" she squeaked at the intimate position 129.

of his hand. No answer. "Blackwell?" She twisted, her eyes widening. "Oooh, no, you don't!"

He looped the rope around his boot, then took a few steps back.

Tess let out a piercing shriek as they left the deck and flew through the air, her hands buried in his shirt so tightly she heard it rip. The wind jolted out of her lungs when his feet hit solid ground, and through blurry eyes she saw the remaining masts and p.o.o.p deck of the brig collapse. Close call. Instantly hands steadied them. She heard Dane bark a few orders, but could understand none of it; her ears were buzzing much too loudly. In the next heart beat, she was dumped on her rear.

"You, madame, are the most brainless twit I've had the misfortune to know!" Dane growled down at her, hands on his hips, eyes ablaze with fury.

She rolled her eyes. "Says the man who should be living in a padded cell." Let him rant, she thought, still shaking from what she'd witnessed and experienced in the last hour. "What happened to those fine gentlemanly attributes, Blackwell? Lose them too when you hacked those men to pieces?" Tess shoved the loose strands from her face and struggled to stand on rubbery legs.

"Lady Renfrew? Is that truly you?" Gaelan asked, a.s.sisting her to her feet, his sooty face a mask of disbelief.

"Yeah, it's me." Her gaze never left Dane's. "How could you be so ruthless, so cold? Christ, I saw you kill over twenty men!"

"I plead guilty," he said without a trace of remorse. "And as you can see," he made an impatient gesture 130.

to his vessel, "we have been hacked to pieces as well."

"It was you who saved the captain, m'lady?" Gaelan put in incredulously.

"Unfortunately, yes," she muttered, then turned to view the ship.

Dane frowned at his first officer. "What say you, man?" *

"It was she, sir, that - " Gaelan pointed to the mast, made a swinging motion, then shrugged.

Dane snapped a look to the mast, then to the burning brig. The turbaned man, he thought, some peculiar emotion a.s.sailing him. He glanced down, expecting to find the lady before him. She wasn't. Then he heard her voice, sharp, clear, giving commands, and his gaze followed the sound to where Tess knelt beside a crewman..

Tess examined the sailor's leg wound. It wasn't too deep and as she pressed a less-than-clean cloth to it, decided it could wait.

"You'll be fine, but others are worse. I'll be back." She ordered the sailor to maintain pressure, then moved to the next man. He'd lost a finger and had a large gash in his side. She wanted to vomit but couldn't spare the time and bound his hand and ribs, ordering an uninjured sailor to hold pressure. She went to another victim and knelt beside him.

"Aren't you Sikes?" she said, ripping open the b.l.o.o.d.y shirt and examining him.

He seemed shocked she would know. "Aye, miss," he gasped. "A ball caught me."

"I can see that." Tess glanced up. He looked more frightened of her than anything. "You'll be first, Mr. Sikes. Mr. Potts!" she shouted, knowing no other 131.

name to call. "Aye, m'lady?"

"I need any medicines you have aboard, clean cloths torn into strips, water-fresh water," she stressed, brushing back her braid as she moved to the next man. "Have every able hand rinse the decks immediately," she ordered. "Then move all the wounded you can to one dry area." She glanced around her, then added, "If you can find one."

Everything was either wet or b.l.o.o.d.y. Deck hands were already clearing away the dead and Tess shut the thought of who they were out of her mind. She was running on pure adrenaline, her nerves taut, her mind blocking the truths she could plainly see.

"Beggin' yer pardon, m'lady, but the cook and Mr. McPete usually tend to the wounds."

"Then I suggest you get them up here, Mr. Potts, because I need help!"

Satisfied she had the bleeding under some measure of control, Tess straightened. So many hurt, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and ma.s.saging the bridge of her nose. How many would live? Three times she'd come across wounds wrapped in dirty bandages smeared with some foreign c.r.a.p that stunk. In a modern hospital the wounds would have needed minor treatment, but here infection could run rampant. My bag, she thought, breaking into a run. She must have something in it that would help. She was almost to the companionway when a noise like nothing she'd ever heard made her stop.

The brig was like a Viking funeral ship, an orange fireball on the sea for an excruciating moment before it exploded, fiery debris shooting into the black sky, 132.

the luminescent banners of defeat fluttering to the ocean to hiss and sizzle. More death. Tears burning in her tired eyes, Tess ducked through the pa.s.sageway.

The Sea Witch had sustained minor damage- splintered wood and several torn sails-yet compared to the brig, she had come through unscathed. Black-well stood at the helm, maneuvering his ship swiftly away from floating debris. At his command, men tossed out ropes to those of the brig that had survived. Leaving the helm in the care of the c.o.xswain, Blackwell strode to the rail. They would be given the chance to swear an oath to the captain of the Witch and join her crew. If not, they would be shackled until they could be put ash.o.r.e at the next port. A merciful act, for any other captain would have made sport of the prisoners. With that consideration, the frigate gained twelve new crew members. Dealing a sharp nod and orders to see wounds cared for, the captain turned away to begin repairs on his ship, to roll back the black sails of war and begin anew.

Muscles strained as Dane yanked the rope, holding it taut as a seaman secured the winch. Hearing the feminine voice, he glanced up from his work. Lady Renfrew had recently come on deck with an armful of supplies; where she'd found the containers and bottles he'd no idea, but now she worked furiously to remove the ball from Mr. Sikes. G.o.d's teeth, she was an astonishing female, unflappable, it seemed. And Dane wasn't certain he liked knowing she was more capable than any man. Ann, but she was pure woman, he thought, his greedy gaze drifting down 133.

over the gentle swells of her plump b.r.e.a.s.t.s concealed in his oldest shirt. A tender emotion he couldn't name stirred in his chest at the mere sight of her, and he realized it mattered not whether she was clad in silks and lace or as she was now, her compact figure disguised in men's garments.

Suddenly the entire ship seemed to go deathly silent when she asked Mr. Potts for a sharp knife.

"Potts?" Tess wiggled her fingers, then glanced up when the asked-for knife wasn't placed in her hand. Her gaze slipped across the men surrounding her, to Sikes, then back to Potts. Jeez! What was the matter with these guys now? "Come on, Potts, up the blade. Now!"

Almost smugly Potts handed it over. A witch could not touch cold steel. The second her fingers closed around it everyone within the sight of her collectively sighed. Tess never saw Dane's soft smile as she drew the blade briefly over a lantern flame before she went back to work, absently noting that Sikes seemed a bit more relaxed.

"Talk to me, Mr. Potts." She needed something to distract her mind as she dug out the bullet. "How about telling me where you were headed before I was rescued?" Sikes's breath hissed through his teeth as she wiggled the knife. "Sorry," she muttered, then nodded to Potts to give the seaman more rum.

"We was fightin' a fierce storm, miss," Sikes mumbled, watching her work.

"Quit flapping your jibs, buster. You're wounded, remember."

Sikes grinned weakly. Cheeky wench, he thought, admiring her s.p.u.n.k.

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Tess felt the blade tip sc.r.a.pe metal. With the tweezers from her manicure kit, she plucked the soft metal ball from his shoulder, dropping it into Potts's outstretched hand. Her stomach rolled at the gush of blood, and she swiftly covered the wound.

"Aye, twas the worst I've seen," Potts said, "Not like a hurricane, mind you. But mean, tossin' the Witch like a twig, m'lady, near a wall of black thunder clouds."

Her movements stilled, but she didn't take her eyes from her work as she held pressure to the wound. She swallowed thickly. "Say again?" The muscles in her shoulders tightened.

"I spotted it first," a young man said smugly, hunkering down opposite her.

Potts lips twisted with condescension. "You're the crow, Tuffy! Yer supposed to sight anythin' first."

"You was ascared as the rest!" Tuffy shot back.

"Mind your tongue, boy!" Potts snarled, and the crow was instantly contrite.

"Gentlemen, please!" Tess interrupted sharply, every nerve singing as she braced herself to st.i.tch human flesh. Her head throbbed with questions she couldn't ask. The wall. The wall. The image kept flashing in her head. Tess blinked rapidly, biting her lip as she took the last st.i.tch, then snipped the thread and spread the wound with clear bacitracin. Nodding slowly when Potts offered to bind the wound, she twisted to tend the next sailor.

"Keep going, Mr. Potts," she said shakily.

"I'll be speakin' the truth, m'lady," he began in a conspiratorial whisper, unaware of her torment. "A mighty ship, white as an angel's wing and as swift as 135.

any afore her, stern one moment, port the next. Give me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s, it did. Never seen anythin' so grand!" The Na.s.sau Queen, Tess thought, and felt the hackles rise on the back of her neck. "What-ah," she swallowed. "What did you mean by a wall of thunderclouds?"

Finished, Potts leaned closer, his stomach tightening at the frightening memory. "This great ship was far off our stern, heading right at us. Then suddenly," he waved dramatically, "she appears at port, moving away.'*'

"She asked about the wall, Mr. Potts," someone said.

"I know, I'm gettin' tan that!" he snapped, then turned a gentle smile to Lady Renfrew, in his glory to be the center of her attention. "The captain called for reports from Tuff here." He tossed a thumb at the boy. "And when we looked again the ship had vanished behind this movin' curtain of mist."

"We've all seen fog on the sea, Potts," Sikes added weakly. "An' that 'tweren't it!"

Several men had come up close, nodding agreement. "Aye, a fog don' move like snakes!"

Despite the heat Tess felt goose b.u.mps p.r.i.c.k the skin of her arms and neck as she rose unsteadily to her feet. In a trance she remembered the clear skies when she jumped ship. And how frightened she'd been to be heading toward the blanket of swirling mist. Vaguely she recalled hearing the clap of thunder, seeing the jagged spark of lightning. Had the storm these men experienced been on the other side of the dark part.i.tion? Her heart clenched painfully. Did I pa.s.s through it or under it? And into what? Her 136.

body trembled hard, her hands shaking as wild thoughts collided in her brain.

Tess staggered to the rail, her knuckles going white with her fierce grip. Everything rushed at her in a tidal wave of facts. Yes, they were facts now. The clothes, the furniture. The archaic beliefs, the crude weapons, and dear G.o.d, the death. In the lantern-lit darkness Richmond chittered happily in the waters below, and Tess cried out in despair.

"Why have you taken me here, Richmond? Why?" she demanded, unaware she'd spoken aloud. "Whose time have you dumped me in?" She slapped a hand over her mouth, biting the heel in an effort to hold back the boiling scream. Say it, her mind begged. Face the truth. Squeezing her eyes shut, Tess allowed the thought to take form. There was no other explanation than the one she'd avoided. The black wall had been a doorway.

Into the past.

"Lady Renfrew?"

She spun about, her gaze meeting those startling green eyes.

"You," she accused, stumbling backwards. "You're a pirate! A d.a.m.ned pirate, of all things."

He stiffened, eyes paling to white frost. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't look so insulted, Blackwell. You know what you are," she spat, gun metal gray eyes raking him in disgust.

She was exhausted, Dane thought sympathetically, on the verge of collapse. He could almost see the restless energy surging through her. Nearly explosive, as if waiting for something to spark the fuse.

137.

I can't handle this, she thought, her gaze careening nervously over the ship. I can't! Tess raced to the companionway, pa.s.sing Duncan, his arms laden with bandages and ointments. She never saw him, stumbling over the raised threshold. She skidded into the cabin, tearing clothes from her body as she moved toward the bathroom. The hip bath was filled with warm water, and somewhere beyond her turmoil she knew this was Duncan's thoughtfulness. She bent over and dunked her head into the water, staying that way until she had no more breath to hold. She straightened, flinging her head back and letting the warm water splash the walls and cascade down her body. The odor of death clung to her. Trembling violently, she stepped into the tub, making record time with soaping her hair. She scrubbed vigorously, then scrubbed some more. Her skin burned when she stepped from the bath and wrapped in a towel. It changed nothing.

"I've got to get back," she mumbled, shoulders hunched as she anxiously paced the cabin. Two hundred years backwards. No longer did she deny the possibility. Everything made too much sense now. Tess suddenly had the overwhelming need to connect with something from her time and went to her yellow duffle. With jerky movements she pulled on a soft black satin chemise and short kimono robe. She stared at the yellow bag. My past, she thought, then she flung the satchel across the room. It smacked the wall, dropping to the floor with a solid chunk. Tess stood in the center of the lavish cabin, motionless, staring at nothing. Then with a strangled moan, she sank to the floor to 138.

her knees.

"I don't belong here," she cried, wrapping her arms across her middle. Tears streamed down her cheeks, splashing on her bare knees. "I don't."

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CHAPTER TWELVE.