Chapter Eight.

"What kept you?"

The captain stood with his back to Gilly and Valeryn, staring out the bank of windows. Beyond him, the sun had dipped in the sky, tucking into the horizon for another night's sleep. Golden hues hung on to the clouds and draped the cabin in russet shadows.

"Mott's rat thought to nibble on your cheese," Valeryn answered. He stabbed the knife into the table.

Captain Drake turned and stared at the weapon, his nostrils flared. "I knew the scupperlout would cut his own weasand."

"He's been warned to stay clear of you. I know how much you like to give quarry a sporting chance."

Gilly was taken aback. She couldn't bear having another's blood spilled on her account. Even Abel's. The crown of thorns she wore for Hyde weighed heavily enough. "You're going to kill him? He's a little sneak, and yes, he threatened me, but you can't just kill him."

The room darkened, and she wasn't entirely sure it was because the sun had settled under the horizon.

"A man who makes threats intends to carry them out," Captain Drake said. "Even cowards can be dangerous."

This she already knew. Abel had almost succeeded in killing her.

"If he doesn't make good on you, he will find someone weaker to prey upon. It's the craven's way."

"Killing him is barbarous," she said. "His blood will be on my hands, not yours, Captain Drake. 'Twould be without justice. 'Twould be murder."

Oh, what foolish things to say to these men. Valeryn tightened his lips, shaking his head, and stepped clear of her, grabbing for a cup. The captain moved with stealthlike fluidity around the desk.

"No." His fingers wrapped around the knife's handle. "Luring a woman into a dark recess and slicing her from neck to navel is barbarous. Strangling the life from her is barbarous." He yanked the blade from the wood. "Holding her down while man after man after man takes his pleasure with a piece of her virtue is barbarous. Ripping her babe from her bosom and-"

"Drake. That's enough."

The captain's eyes blazed and his sight slid to Valeryn. Valeryn locked stares with his captain. Valeryn stiffened, rising in height. One by one, Captain Drake lifted a finger from the knife's handle only to be replaced with a tighter grip. Fear mixed with an odd sense of fascination anch.o.r.ed Gilly in place. Had he witnessed such atrocities? Had he taken part?

The tension snapped. Captain Drake spun around, his arm a blur, as the knife speared with precise accuracy the ropes of his hanging j.a.panese wind bells, the blade embedded in the wall beyond. The gla.s.s b.a.l.l.s shattered on the floor. A deadly kill had the target been human.

Red thunderheads in Drake's mind's eye faded and the lovely Gilly came into view. A single tear rolled down her cheek and her bottom lip quivered. He'd gone too far with his ranting. She was too naive to introduce such atrocity and he hated himself for his lack of indiscretion. d.a.m.n it! He wanted desperately to wipe her tears away, to hold her, to let her know he would never let such a thing happen to her.

How utterly foolish! By this time tomorrow, the Rissa would be bound for Havana and Gilly would be but a memory. She was nothing more than a fond distraction for a short time.

"I...I..." The la.s.s cleared her throat and words poured out. "Have you considered Abel may have friends? Friends who may want to extract revenge for his murder? And even if he doesn't have friends among the Rowena crew, these men have lost their jobs, forfeited their pay on the cargo you have claimed and were forced to work in the salvage. Certainly they are angry enough to act upon the slightest injustice. I'm in enough trouble, Captain Drake."

Drake thought back to his earlier conversation with the Irish b.a.s.t.a.r.d Lynch spouting accusations. Accusations heard by a few Rowena tars milling about within earshot. Where the men once were indebted to Drake for saving their lives, disbelief heralded sneers of disgust in crossways glances and hushed talk. Gilly was right. If harm came to Abel while on board the Rissa, Drake would be making her a target.

He replaced the knife for his cup. "Fear not, Miss McCoy. I'm sure Valeryn scared him enough that the bilge rat will not seek to harm you. That will be his saving grace. If it is your wish, I won't hunt him down. This time."

She said nothing, only nodded. And still he wanted to hold her.

Gilly stepped to the knife plugged into the wall. With her delicate hand, she tried to free the blade. It took both hands to wiggle it out. Quietly, she set it on the table before him. A curious thing for the girl to do. But once her eyes rose slowly to meet his and a sweet smile graced her lips, he knew. She trusted his word and his pride remained intact. d.a.m.n. The la.s.s was good.

"Have a drink with me, Miss McCoy, and let us talk of finer things."

She nodded again, blinking away the remaining tears threatening to spill.

He poured her a cup. Topside, the bell rang and he smiled to himself. What bliss awaited him? With the end of each watch, she became more voracious, and more desirable. With each kiss the flower bloomed. Ah yes, 'Twas a very good way for her to pay her pa.s.sage. h.e.l.l, the la.s.s had done so tenfold. Maybe he should circle the island a couple of times to extend her stay.

He turned to hand her the drink. She grabbed his face and planted her mouth to his, causing him to drop the cup. One moment, then two pa.s.sed. He slowly bound a hand to the base of her neck and pressed his other hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer. It'd been h.e.l.l resisting taking the lead on her kisses. He wanted so to ravish her. But likewise, he relished letting her discover herself. This whole travesty was to be a l.u.s.ty game meant for his selfish gain. Drake wanted a reason to kiss her again and again, but he wouldn't force her. He had wanted the spirited armful to squirm, as so-called reluctant doxies always do, and perhaps to put on a mock fight. She didn't. Instead she surprised him with rising to the challenge even as she was unsure how. Somehow, she endeared him in his farce. She made it hard to let her have control. She made him hard.

Valeryn cleared his throat. He wore a grin that beamed well done, mate.

Henri and Jack stood at the threshold with trays of food. "Blind me," Henri said. "Again?" He shuffled to the table and set down the food. "Of all the places I could be this very minute." He shook his head.

Valeryn clapped his shoulder. "And yet, ya couldn't tear your deadlights away."

"I weren't watchin', not no more than you, ya barnacle." Henri ruffled up like a wet hen. "Jack, clean up that mess off the floor." He curled his lip. "d.a.m.n shame to waste rum like that. d.a.m.n shame."

Drake disagreed. A little spilled liquor was well worth the taste of Gilly's lips.

"Ignore Henri, Miss McCoy." Drake reached for her arm and guided her to sit. "I do." The little manikin let a metal plate drop noisily to the table at Drake's setting. Drake grinned and Henri proceeded to toss the other two plates to their places. "We only put up with him because his fine cooking skills are beyond measure."

"Best barbeque you'll find this side of Cape of Good Hope," Valeryn said.

"I have to agree," Gilly said. "You have surprised me with your delicious meals, Henri."

"Thank ya, la.s.s."

"This boiled pork smells wonderful," she continued. "I can't quite make out the spice."

"Clove. Some fine clove, too, from a merchant run aground on the Tortuga shoals." Henri puffed out with pride and served up the meat with a helping of white cabbage. "I boiled some cloves with the boar. Then rubbed on more, with cinnamon." His lopsided grin disappeared and he p.r.i.c.kled up. "But that's all I'm goin' ta say. I'm not gonna give away me secrets."

"Just as well, Henri," Drake said. "Better see to feeding the crews."

"Come, Jack," Henri said. "Let's give 'em their privacy. Get off the floor, boy! Criminy!"

Hardly any words were spoken during dinner. Gilly had asked about Henri and his fondness for his beard bows. Valeryn suggested all Frenchmen were foppish. But Drake suspected it had something to do with the young daughter Henri lost many years ago.

Gilly indeed had been properly schooled in genteel conduct. The way she picked with her fork the bits of meat, small enough to offend a church mouse, and chewed was both maddening and curious. He wondered if she took that much care with all manners of ministrations. And then she slipped. Her tongue had flicked out to lick juice from her lips and Drake nearly came undone. What was it about this girl? He couldn't remember a time when he wanted a woman. And he wanted her. Not like his paramours in random ports. Not like the tail in a nanny house. Those doxies were a means to an end. It was always about the coitus. No, with Gilly, he wanted more. He wanted her.

That was not to be. There was work to be done and he had no room for that kind of silly longing.

"Is there something on my face?" Gilly looked to Drake and then Valeryn, wiping at her mouth. "You're staring at me as if I've got something on my face."

Drake smiled. "I'm terribly sorry. I was in deep thought." He shoved a forkful of pork in his mouth and glanced at Valeryn, who wore a smug grin. Drake scowled at his mate.

"I told Valeryn of your magnificent performance last night, Miss McCoy, and asked him to join me for an encore."

"Oh, that would be wonderful." Gilly perked up. She patted a napkin to the corners of her mouth. "May I have that drink now?"

Fresh cups were poured and Valeryn set the bottle in front of Drake. The man knew him all too well.

Gilly scooted out of her chair, took a healthy drink and stood. "I usually sing to music," she said apologetically to Valeryn.

"The captain has a.s.sured me that you are the finest singer he has ever heard and I will no doubt agree."

"You must believe I am not given to exaggerate," Drake said.

She smiled and began her musical selection with a poetic love song. As her song ended, Valeryn clapped wildly and stood.

"Bravo! Bravo!"

Drake chuckled. "More, please, Miss McCoy."

Bright with color in her cheeks, she launched into an operatic piece about star-crossed lovers. Valeryn sat on the edge of his seat enthralled. Drake leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and drank his rum, lulling in her angelic tone. The song drew on, but her voice never wavered.

Ending her song, Gilly snapped up her cup. "You gentlemen are in good spirits," she said. "Let me sing for you the tavern ditty about a sailor and his captain's daughter." She wetted her throat and began singing and dancing.

Gilly skipped and twirled to the silly song. The tune was indeed catchy. Valeryn clapped along and Drake tapped his boot. Soon the jollity had swept them away. Gilly pulled Drake to his feet, encouraging him to dance with her. He spun her around and around, and she laughed as she sang. He became dizzy with her jauntiness. Or was it the booze? Most probably, it was the spinning. He fell back into his chair, bringing Gilly down with him. She landed in his lap. Again. Without letting his muddled mind clear, he kissed her.

Valeryn laughed. "'Tis time I take my leave." He stood and raised his cup. "A very fine performance indeed, Miss McCoy. I thank you for the wonderful entertainment."

Drake hardly heard her reply or his cabin door close. He couldn't take his eyes off her. And she had yet to try to get off his lap.

"What a wicked spell you have me under." He cupped her cheek. "I never imagined I would pull a siren from the sea." He stroked her face, rubbing the pad of his thumb down her bottom lip. She parted her mouth. "Yet here you are, luring me, a man whose soul is blacker than the onyx pearls I long to hang upon your bosom."

She gazed at him with those gray eyes through coy lashes.

"I would have never imagined that I would find myself in the lap of a deadly-and handsome-pirate."

He leaned in and ever so slowly her lids fluttered closed. Their lips met in a tender caress. Sweet rum sugared her taste. He deepened their kiss, careful not to become too greedy. His patience was rewarded as she granted his tongue access into her mouth. Her hand roamed along his back. Waves of desire surged through his body, changing course rapidly through his mind. His own hands took their pleasure in seeking out her curves, nestling in their dips and kneading their bows. He drank her like the rarest of wines. Savored her leisurely and appreciatively. He could stay like this, with her, forever. Treasuring this chaste embrace like a coveted prize.

No. He must stop. He could not allow the folly to continue.

He could not open his heart for her, this slip of a girl. Keeping his heart closed meant he could not feel pain. He was too d.a.m.n close to letting her have a piece of him. How could he have let this happen? She disrupted his blissful solitude. He could not allow himself to drag her into his suffering. Even for this fleeting moment, he refused to open his heart.

He pulled her away. "Get up."

Confusion burrowed in her brow. "But-"

"It's time for you to return to your cabin."

She slid from his lap and backed away. Her chest rose as she sucked in a large breath and bit down on her bottom lip. Tears, once again, sprang to her eyes. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Her voice wobbled, but her tune quickly changed with her building anger flushing her cheeks. She clenched her fists and took a step forward. "You filthy b.a.s.t.a.r.d. This is a hateful, despicable game you play with me. Charming me with your words. Forcing me to kiss you. Seducing me. How b.l.o.o.d.y dare you. You have humiliated me for the last time!"

"I didn't force you to kiss me," he corrected.

She shrieked. Grabbing an unopened bottle from his chest, she glared at him. Gilly raised the bottle, ready to hurl it against the wall as he had the knife. Instead, something came over her. A draw in the unseen battle raging within her. "Go to h.e.l.l." Her calm voice cracked on the words. She smacked the bottle onto the table and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. A saber on a wall display clattered onto a trunk below. The bottle tipped, rolled off the table and smashed to the floorboards.

Drake stared at the broken bottle. The amber liquid flowed out around the shards of gla.s.s like little islands. Pungent liquor permeated the air. A perfectly good bottle of rum, gone.

A geyser of anger rose in his chest, threatening to explode. He marched to the door, hands balled, his face burning hot; he slammed his fist into the threshold. Something cracked. A sharp pain shot across his knuckles.

What the h.e.l.l was he doing? Why did he send her away? He should have simply taken her to his bed. Together they could have relieved their needs and he wouldn't be standing there with his b.a.l.l.s clenched in a knot.

But that wasn't what this game was about anymore, was it? And now it was over. Tomorrow he would set her off on her way. Gilly would no longer be under his protection. His ire boiled down to a simmer. He didn't understand why, but he needed to set things straight with her.

'Twas another reason he refused women. He despised being sorry.

He yanked his door open and barged into her cabin.

Gilly sat at the writing desk with a small bottle upturned to her lips. Quickly, she hid the vial back into her bag, wiping at her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Drake demanded. "What was that you were drinking?"

"Nothing!" She stumbled from the chair and backed into the edge of the bed. Her eyes were rimmed in red and her hands trembled. "What gives you the right to intrude on me?"

"Give it to me. Give me the bottle." He held out his hand.

"No. Get out of my room."

"Gilly. Give me the bottle."

"I will not." She stiffened as he closed the meager distance between them.

"Please, Gilly. Don't make me do this."

Her mouth tight, she glared at him. He took another step and she turned to block him with her shoulder. A useless attempt. Drake grabbed her arm, swinging her back to face him.

"No!"

She drew out the bottle from her pouch and held it out at arm's length, which was a mite shorter than she had antic.i.p.ated. Drake s.n.a.t.c.hed the bottle away.

"No! Give it back!"

Drake shoved her back onto the bed. "Sit." He held up a cautionary palm. "Stay. Don't get up."

She crossed her arms and streams of tears stained her cheeks.

He whiffed the vial's opening. Strong. Bitter. "What do you need laudanum for, Gilly?"

"It's for my cough." She looked away, staring at the wall.

"You don't have a cough."

"That's because of the laudanum, you ninny."

"Stop lying."