took another huge breath, seeking courage, her hand holding the pistol behind her back, in the folds of her navy-blue skirts. Virginia wet her lips. “What—what do you want?”
“I want you to come here, as I never give an order twice, and this is the third time.” Impatience edged his voice.
Virginia realized there was no choice. But stubbornly, childishly, she wanted reassurance from the least reassuring human being she had ever had the misfortune to meet. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked hoarsely.
“I am taking you to my ship,” he said flatly.
He was going to abuse her—rape her. Virginia willed herself to stop shaking, but the trembling refused to cease. “You have just attacked an innocent ship,” she managed to say hoarsely. “But I am a young, defenseless woman, and I ask mercy of you now.”
His mouth curved into a smile at once mirthless and merciless. “You will not be harmed,” he said.
She started. “What?”
“Does that disappoint you?” he asked.
She stared, stunned, trying to determine whether to believe him or not. Then she realized she should not believe him, because he was a murderer, which meant he must be a liar as well. “I am not going to your ship of my own free will,” she heard herself say.
His eyes widened in real surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
She tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go, and the wood crates dug into her back and her hand as it held the pistol.
Suddenly he laughed. The sound was raw, as if laughter was hard for him. “You dare to disobey me, the captain of this ship?”
“You are not—” she began, and bit her lip, hard. Do shut up, she told herself.
His smile was hard, his eyes colder than a block of ice. “I beg to differ with you. I am the captain of the Americana, as I have seized her and she has surrendered to me.” And then he started for her. “I also have no patience. We have a fine nor’easter,” he said, as if that explained everything.
Virginia didn’t move, planning to strike him over the head with the pistol when he reached her side. But he was so tall, she would never succeed in wielding that blow. She glanced between his legs and decided to strike him there.
The space was so small in the hold that two of his hard strides closed the distance between them. Virginia’s heart was banging so rapidly in her chest that it hurt. She stiffened as he reached for her, and as his large hand closed over her left arm, she swung the pistol at him.
He had the reflexes of a wild beast. He leapt aside, the butt of the gun grazing one rock-hard thigh, which it actually bounced off. His grip tightened on her arm and she cried out.
“That, mademoiselle, was distinctly unladylike.”
Tears filled her gaze in a rush.
“But should I expect more from a vixen who thinks to shoot me?” he demanded.
She blinked and looked into pale, opaque eyes. So he knew. The adage was that the eyes were a window to the soul. If that was so, this man was soulless. “What are you going to do with me?” she whispered roughly.
“I told you. You will be transferred aboard my ship.” He removed the pistol from her grip, tossing it aside. He gestured at the ladder in the other hold, never releasing her arm.
Virginia didn’t move. “Why? I’m not pretty.”
He started, then his gaze narrowed with comprehension. “Why? Because you shall be my guest, Miss Hughes.”
She gasped at the sound of her name and real fear flooded within her. An instant later, her shrewd wit saved her—he had surely just learned her name from the captain or his crew. “My guest? Or your victim?” she whispered.
“God, you are defiant for such a little wench!” He moved her forward and her feet had no choice but to rise and fall, the one after the other. Her sodden skirts quickly tangled, making it hard to keep her balance. “Can you climb the ladder or do I have to throw you over my shoulder?” he asked.
But she had no intention of being manhandled by him until there was no other choice. Still, she heard herself say, “Captain, sir! I am on my way to London—my business is most urgent—you must let me continue on!”
He reached for her, clearly intending to hoist her into his arms, obviously devoid of any more vestiges of patience.
Virginia whirled, grabbed the ladder, gripped her skirts and scrambled upward. But she heard no movement behind her and suddenly she had an awful notion. On one of the top rungs, she paused and glanced down.
He was studying her calves and ankles, fully revealed in her frilly pantalettes. There was an odd look in his eyes and it made her heart skip wildly in fear.
His gaze lifted. “I haven’t seen a woman in pantalettes in years.”
Her color increased and a cruel comment made by Sarah Lewis when she had been in school in Richmond flashed through her mind: “Virginia, I hate to be the one to tell you, but those things are not in fashion anymore!”
The heat in her cheeks increased. She realized he had begun to climb up and she scrambled out of the hatch and into the hold where the ship’s crew slept.
She gagged as she hurried through, acutely aware of her captor an inch behind her, giving her no chance to escape. But she would have to escape, and soon, wouldn’t she? It was that or become reduced to being his whore.
Another ladder faced them. Virginia did not want to climb up first. The pirate lightly pressed her forward. “Go up, Miss Hughes.”
She dared to face him. “It is clear you are no gentleman, sir, but keep your eyes to yourself.”
An incredulous look crossed his face, followed by amusement, and for one moment, Virginia expected him to chuckle. “Miss Hughes, I am not interested in your charms.”
“Good,” she snapped, as her temper suddenly reared. “Then you can leave me on this ship and let me continue on my way while you rape someone else.”
He stared at her for a long, tense moment. “I told you that you would be my guest.”
“And I am to believe a murderer?”
His jaw flexed. “You may believe as you will, but I am not in the habit of raping my guests. Frankly, I am not in the habit of rape at all. Go up the ladder.”
“Then why?” she asked, confused.
“I am very tired of your insolence, Miss Hughes.”
Virginia saw that here, at least, was the unfettered truth. She hoisted her skirts and scrambled up, and this time she made certain she did not look back.
Above, clouds were scudding in the blue sky and the stench of death was everywhere. Virginia choked upon seeing five corpses of American sailors laid out neatly in a row, clearly about to be tossed out to sea. One of them was dear Captain Horatio. She fought genuine tears. He
