Nathaniel's Treasure. Sheri Lynn

      Her stomach growled. Her throat hurt from dryness. Her arms went numb hours earlier. She assumed he planned to leave her there all night. That thought alone broke her. She no longer wanted to pretend to be brave. Imagining sleeping in the tiny, dark, rat-infested room frightened her. At night would they crawl on her? Would they bite her? Scratch her? Would she contract a disease and die aboard this ship, never seeing her father again?

      The first few tears snuck out, rolling down her cheeks. Once she yielded to them, and her fear, she sobbed. She only had herself to blame. Not for the kidnapping and being on this ship, but for sneaking on her father’s ship and convincing him to allow her to go to the beach. She wanted excitement and adventure in her life, just not the kind she found herself in.

      Losing herself in her misery, she never heard the door open or Davies enter. His hands cupped each side of her head. The bands of the rings he wore were cool against her tear-soaked skin. The concern in his voice made her cry harder. “What is it, Angel? Are you hurt? Who hurt you?”

      Continuing to weep, he released her hands, massaging her wrists. The ache in them grew as the blood returned. She bawled, attempting to pull them away from him. Putting one arm under her knees, he lifted her, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders, holding her head to his chest.

      Carrying her out of the storeroom, she heard Bird’s stuttering. “S-Sir. I d-di-did as you said. No soul entered th-tha-that room.”

      She felt Davies’ growling voice in his chest, against her ear, before she heard him ask. And he asked in such a tone that demanded honesty, or death. “You are certain?”

      “Y-Yes, sir.”

      Leaving the kitchen, Davies took the steps, walking down the hallway that led them back to the Captain’s quarters. She continued to sniffle and gasp, but she no longer bawled like a baby. Sitting on the edge of the bunk, he stood and steadied her between his knees, untying her bodice.

      Clawing at his hands, the soreness in her wrists hindered her ability to do much else, she sobbed again. “No. Don’t, Davies. I’m not feeling romantic.”

      His fingers continued, unlacing the gown in expert time, he slid it off her shoulders and down her body. He laughed. “Romantic.” Lifting her off the ground, he placed her on the far side of the bunk, chuckling the entire time. “Romantic. That’s a new one, Angel. I don’t know if you will think it romantic once I am done with you.” He took her wrists, caressing them.

      “Why do you say such things? You don’t mean them. You can’t be wholly heartless.”

      Turning his back to her, he removed his boots. “Do you need to relieve yourself? I will step out and give you some privacy. I would bet my life Bird gave you something to eat and water. If you want more speak up before I get comfortable.”

      “I would like a moment to myself, please.”

      “I will give you two minutes, and then I’m coming back in. Don’t get any ideas, I will be right outside the door.”

      She hurried off the bunk, took care of her pressing matter and scrambled back before he opened the door.

      He came in, sat down and stripped off his shirt presenting her with a back covered in scars. Slashes. Someone mistreated him horrifically. She opened her mouth to ask, but he spoke first. “Don’t mistake me for someone I am not. As you claimed earlier. I do not know you. You do not know me. Best if we keep it that way. We will enjoy each other.” He stretched out beside her, keeping his back to her. “Rest. And you can call me Nathaniel.”

      Nathaniel. She liked it. It suited him.

      Having never slept beside a man before, sleep eluded her. He fell asleep after he told her to rest. Listening to his steady breathing, she wished for him to roll over in her direction. She desired to study him without being under his watchful eye. Never had a man appealed to her like him. His looks appealed to her, no doubt. She wanted to know the man, his motivations, his aspirations. Who was he? In the past and the present. As inevitable as sharing a sexual relationship seemed, she needed it to be more. And she would make it such. If it took her playing nice, she could do that. Not only would she attain what she needed, but it would keep her out of the chains.

      He thought he could kidnap her, chain her, use her, deny her—that wouldn’t work for her. She planned on enjoying him too, but she couldn’t without understanding him.