Beautiful Tempest
Page 27
The thought of hurting anyone disturbed her, but this man deserved it. Not only had he kidnapped her twice, he was now holding Jeremy and Percy as hostages. And he was in the employ of some nefarious pirate who was determined to kill her father. She had to do it. It was the only way she could get the key and unlock the cabin door. If she tried to pick the lock with her dagger, she knew he’d hear it and take away her last weapon, rendering her utterly helpless again. She hated that he was such a light sleeper, wouldn’t even be surprised if he slept with one eye open.
The moonlight came back, but only for a second. But its absence made her worry that storm clouds had arrived. There’d been none the last time she’d looked out those barred windows, but that had been hours ago.
Rain and a thunderstorm would be the worst luck. There was no way Bastard would sleep through that. But she had no clue if he was sleeping yet and probably wouldn’t get one since the man didn’t snore.
When enough time had passed to ensure he was asleep and the moonlight had come back, she got her dagger from her thigh sheath before she stood up and tiptoed over to Bastard’s bed. The nice weapon had a seven-inch blade, sharp and lightweight, made just for her. She positioned herself at his bedside and bent over him before she reached for the key. It was where he usually kept it, in the right-side pocket of his trousers, but she wondered why her removing it didn’t wake him, light sleeper that he was. Then she saw that it had. His eyes were open and locked to hers. The only reason he remained perfectly still was because now that he was awake, he couldn’t help but feel the blade she held pressed to his neck. It was now or never.
But before she delivered the coup de grâce, she couldn’t resist telling him, “You shouldn’t have done this again. You should have stayed far, far away from me and my family.”
He said nothing, didn’t even try to talk her out of killing him, but she felt his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her head slowly down to his. She pressed her blade more firmly against his throat as a warning, but he didn’t stop until their mouths touched.
It was almost magical, how arrested she suddenly was. And it was no brief kiss this time. His lips moved over hers slowly but with such passion, she was drawn deeper and deeper toward an intimacy she’d never before shared with anyone. The thrill was in full bloom, making her heart pound erratically, stealing her breath. This is what she’d wanted that night at the ball when she first met him, what drove her to the park with such excitement to see him again.
First met him? No, not him, but the charming, mysterious . . . What she felt in that moment was overwhelming her senses, so much that she was helpless to resist temptation like that. Then she tasted his tongue against hers, and the thought intruded—shouldn’t she bite it?
That was a cold dousing. She lifted her head and heard him say, “Does that tell you why this happened again?”
“Not bloody likely.”
But she realized the dagger was still in her hand, still pressed to his neck. He’d missed his chance to disarm her so he could kiss her instead? Fool! But she couldn’t bring herself to slash his throat now. That was a little too gruesome for her. So she moved the blade to the side of his torso and thrust it in, hearing him groan, before she broke away from him and ran to the door.
“Jack. Jack, wait—”
She didn’t hear the rest if he said anything more. With the key turned and the door pushed open, she bolted out of the cabin. The deck was dark, but still someone spotted her and shouted to alert the crew. So much for finding her brother and gaining control of the ship. She hesitated only a moment to kick off her boots before she dove over the railing. She might or might not make it back to England, but either way, the pirates wouldn’t be able to use her to control her father.
Good God, the water was cold, but in moments she was behind the ship as it sailed on, and she continued to swim in the opposite direction. She could do this. She was a good swimmer. And she could rest from time to time, floating on her back. Surely another ship would come along and rescue her before too long.
At least she didn’t have to worry about Jeremy and Percy. She’d convinced Bastard they meant nothing to her, and he’d shared that with the crewman he’d called Mort, so surely they’d be let go as soon as they reached land. Bastard obviously hadn’t died immediately, but she hoped she’d hit something vital and he would bleed out within the hour.
Would his crew sail back to England without him to try to capture her again? If they did, they would definitely beat her back there. And then it started raining. She stopped to glance back, but she couldn’t see the ship, probably because the rain was coming down so hard. But she couldn’t have gotten that far from it yet. She looked on each side of her, but still couldn’t see it, so continued on. After a moment she stopped again with the horrible realization that in turning about, she might have lost her direction to England. If she swam right back to that bloody ship . . .
Chapter Seventeen
JACQUELINE SCREAMED WHEN SHE felt something touch her side, thinking of scary things in the sea. But she couldn’t mistake the arm that was suddenly wrapped around her chest, or the voice that said, “You are the most aggravating woman.” Enraged by her failure, she turned and fought Bastard tooth and nail, tried to kick him where she’d wounded him, tried to drown him. She struggled so hard they both sank several times. She might have won that fight, too, but unfortunately he hadn’t swum after her alone. Mort was with him, and when the blond got there, he took her in hand to swim both her and Bastard to the rowboat that had also been lowered for the search.
She might have heard the oars approaching if not for the rain. She might have had time to dive deep so they would have gone on searching endlessly with no luck. The dark would have been on her side. They couldn’t see anything out here in the water any more than she could. But Bastard was tenacious. He had to have been getting weaker and weaker himself from his wound, but he’d continued to swim after her, determined to save her from her folly.
And it was so bloody galling that she hadn’t even gotten far. Within minutes the rowboat stopped below the ship’s lowered ladder. She slapped away the hand that reached for her and climbed it herself. But she didn’t move any farther when she landed on the deck because she found herself surrounded by pirates. These definitely weren’t ordinary sailors, being garishly dressed and armed and making scandalous remarks about her attributes, which she knew were outlined by her clinging, wet clothes. And they were laughing, especially at Bastard when he came over the side.
The moonlight came back, but only for a second. But its absence made her worry that storm clouds had arrived. There’d been none the last time she’d looked out those barred windows, but that had been hours ago.
Rain and a thunderstorm would be the worst luck. There was no way Bastard would sleep through that. But she had no clue if he was sleeping yet and probably wouldn’t get one since the man didn’t snore.
When enough time had passed to ensure he was asleep and the moonlight had come back, she got her dagger from her thigh sheath before she stood up and tiptoed over to Bastard’s bed. The nice weapon had a seven-inch blade, sharp and lightweight, made just for her. She positioned herself at his bedside and bent over him before she reached for the key. It was where he usually kept it, in the right-side pocket of his trousers, but she wondered why her removing it didn’t wake him, light sleeper that he was. Then she saw that it had. His eyes were open and locked to hers. The only reason he remained perfectly still was because now that he was awake, he couldn’t help but feel the blade she held pressed to his neck. It was now or never.
But before she delivered the coup de grâce, she couldn’t resist telling him, “You shouldn’t have done this again. You should have stayed far, far away from me and my family.”
He said nothing, didn’t even try to talk her out of killing him, but she felt his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her head slowly down to his. She pressed her blade more firmly against his throat as a warning, but he didn’t stop until their mouths touched.
It was almost magical, how arrested she suddenly was. And it was no brief kiss this time. His lips moved over hers slowly but with such passion, she was drawn deeper and deeper toward an intimacy she’d never before shared with anyone. The thrill was in full bloom, making her heart pound erratically, stealing her breath. This is what she’d wanted that night at the ball when she first met him, what drove her to the park with such excitement to see him again.
First met him? No, not him, but the charming, mysterious . . . What she felt in that moment was overwhelming her senses, so much that she was helpless to resist temptation like that. Then she tasted his tongue against hers, and the thought intruded—shouldn’t she bite it?
That was a cold dousing. She lifted her head and heard him say, “Does that tell you why this happened again?”
“Not bloody likely.”
But she realized the dagger was still in her hand, still pressed to his neck. He’d missed his chance to disarm her so he could kiss her instead? Fool! But she couldn’t bring herself to slash his throat now. That was a little too gruesome for her. So she moved the blade to the side of his torso and thrust it in, hearing him groan, before she broke away from him and ran to the door.
“Jack. Jack, wait—”
She didn’t hear the rest if he said anything more. With the key turned and the door pushed open, she bolted out of the cabin. The deck was dark, but still someone spotted her and shouted to alert the crew. So much for finding her brother and gaining control of the ship. She hesitated only a moment to kick off her boots before she dove over the railing. She might or might not make it back to England, but either way, the pirates wouldn’t be able to use her to control her father.
Good God, the water was cold, but in moments she was behind the ship as it sailed on, and she continued to swim in the opposite direction. She could do this. She was a good swimmer. And she could rest from time to time, floating on her back. Surely another ship would come along and rescue her before too long.
At least she didn’t have to worry about Jeremy and Percy. She’d convinced Bastard they meant nothing to her, and he’d shared that with the crewman he’d called Mort, so surely they’d be let go as soon as they reached land. Bastard obviously hadn’t died immediately, but she hoped she’d hit something vital and he would bleed out within the hour.
Would his crew sail back to England without him to try to capture her again? If they did, they would definitely beat her back there. And then it started raining. She stopped to glance back, but she couldn’t see the ship, probably because the rain was coming down so hard. But she couldn’t have gotten that far from it yet. She looked on each side of her, but still couldn’t see it, so continued on. After a moment she stopped again with the horrible realization that in turning about, she might have lost her direction to England. If she swam right back to that bloody ship . . .
Chapter Seventeen
JACQUELINE SCREAMED WHEN SHE felt something touch her side, thinking of scary things in the sea. But she couldn’t mistake the arm that was suddenly wrapped around her chest, or the voice that said, “You are the most aggravating woman.” Enraged by her failure, she turned and fought Bastard tooth and nail, tried to kick him where she’d wounded him, tried to drown him. She struggled so hard they both sank several times. She might have won that fight, too, but unfortunately he hadn’t swum after her alone. Mort was with him, and when the blond got there, he took her in hand to swim both her and Bastard to the rowboat that had also been lowered for the search.
She might have heard the oars approaching if not for the rain. She might have had time to dive deep so they would have gone on searching endlessly with no luck. The dark would have been on her side. They couldn’t see anything out here in the water any more than she could. But Bastard was tenacious. He had to have been getting weaker and weaker himself from his wound, but he’d continued to swim after her, determined to save her from her folly.
And it was so bloody galling that she hadn’t even gotten far. Within minutes the rowboat stopped below the ship’s lowered ladder. She slapped away the hand that reached for her and climbed it herself. But she didn’t move any farther when she landed on the deck because she found herself surrounded by pirates. These definitely weren’t ordinary sailors, being garishly dressed and armed and making scandalous remarks about her attributes, which she knew were outlined by her clinging, wet clothes. And they were laughing, especially at Bastard when he came over the side.
