Rescued by the Buccaneer (8 page)

Humphrey’s henchmen turned their attention to him, binding his arms with rope as they had hers. Gaston said her name, “Frederica.”

She lifted her chin defiantly and refused to meet his eye. She must still be furious with him, not that it mattered now.

The rope was rough and cut into his wrists as they hauled him and Frederica clumsily above deck. Just as he’d anticipated, every man aboard had gathered to watch Captain Humphrey dispatch the prisoners.

Tiny shoved Frederica towards Captain Humphrey.

“Good morning, wench,” Humphrey said, grabbing Frederica by the nape of the neck.

She remained stoic, her pride choking out other emotions.

“You betrayed me, after all I’ve done for ye.” Humphrey withdrew his sword and brought the tip up to her face, then traced the front of her dress with the blade. “I have half a mind to cut your dress in two and give you over to the crew. See what kind of punishment they’ll be havin’ for ye.”

Frederica’s eyes rounded, but she remained silent. The crowd jeered, cheering the captain’s lewd suggestion.

Humphrey sliced down the front of her dress and her breasts spilled out the top of her corset, which was now visible. Catcalls filled the air, along with demands from unscrupulous pirates wanting to be the first to ravage the captive.

Gaston held his breath. He was upset by Frederica’s betrayal, but he would not relish watching her be raped by a gang such as this. That he’d developed a tenderness for the woman surprised him.

“If anyone should go first, it should be Tiny, he’s the one informed me of her treacherous actions,” Humphrey said.

Groans from the crowd reverberated in his ears, and Gaston’s extremities grew numb. If Tiny had informed the captain… that meant Frederica had not ratted him out after all.

Tiny must have woken up when he had sneaked out of the barracks in the night. The next day the big man probably searched their bunk and found the weapons, and they wouldn’t have been difficult to find. If Tiny had put two and two together, he would have realized Frederica had given him the key.

Inklings of guilt began to nag at Gaston. He’d been wrong to accuse Frederica—and even more wrong to punish her. He didn’t like what that said about him. Gaston considered himself a just man, but he had misjudged her. It vexed him that not only had he failed in taking Humphrey’s ship, but he’d been wrong in his assessment of Frederica. Both were evidence of his shortcomings. And Gaston hated being faced with his shortcomings.

The louder the mob grew, the more frightened Frederica looked, and Gaston’s heart went out to her. He was no stranger to false accusations, and it made him feel like a jackass that he’d been wrong about her. Hoping to find a way to make it up to her, he stared at her, imploring her to return his gaze, but her eyes remained fixed on the stretch of space in front of her.

In light of the recent revelation that Tiny was to blame for his capture, Gaston recognized that the regal girl on trial was not a sophisticate playing both sides against the middle. Rather, she was merely a proud young woman who had been victimized, first by the brute Humphrey and then by himself, on a lesser scale of course. Still, his gut wrenched at the idea he had struck her for no good reason.

Raising his voice above the din, Gaston shouted, “Leave the girl alone, Humphrey! It is me with whom you have a quarrel. She has done nothing.”

Humphrey snickered. “She hasn’t? Ye going to take responsibility for her, are ye mate?”

“Gladly. There’s been a misunderstanding. Mademoiselle Beauchamp is quite loyal to you and your crew. She told me nothing but of the debt she owes you for saving her life.”

Humphrey growled, “Aye. Ye think I’m soft in the head, do ye? I know what she’s been a tellin’ ye. Talkin’ out of school, as it were.” He stuck his face next to Gaston’s ear. “Ye should’ve thought of that before ye tried to ruin me reputation in front of me crew, ye bastard,” he grumbled.

“Let her go,” Gaston quietly insisted.

The captain shook his head and moved back to center stage. “What should we do with these two here traitors, Tiny?” he asked, the verbiage sounding rehearsed.

“We’ve no use for scum like them. Throw ‘em into the sea, Cap’n.”

A roar rose from the crowd. It seemed a popular idea, with the exception of those men who were hoping for a turn with Frederica.

“Give us the girl!” one of them shouted.

“You’re a better man than that, Humphrey. Throw us overboard,” Gaston said.

Frederica’s eyes glassed over. Gaston could see she was frightened, but had withdrawn from the situation out of self-protection. Her perfect lips jutted out in the most enticing pout. Something primal deep inside rose to the surface, an undeniable urge to save her. He would find a way for them to escape—he’d cheated death countless times. Adding a woman to the mix wasn’t likely to change his luck.

Gaston didn’t know why, but he’d always been a survivor, even when lives around him fell like raindrops in a spring shower. He feared it was his cavalier attitude towards death. In his experience, the fates showed an aversion for those who valued their lives highly, whereas bastards like him were spared.

Frederica looked as though a strong wind might knock her over, and Gaston willed her to hold it together.

With a swift flick of his sword, Humphrey cut off a long lock of Frederica’s tangled mane. “Something to remember ye by, lassy.”

He faced the crowd and shouted, “To the sea with ‘em! Let ‘em walk the plank!”

Cheers went up all around, and Gaston said a silent prayer as he and Frederica were hustled to the ship’s edge.

* * *

Frederica heard the captain’s words, but she fought hard to deny them. Being forced overboard was her greatest fear. The monsters that swam below would rip her limb from limb. She feared her heart would stop, and she struggled to find breath.

“No!” she shrieked. “Shoot me instead!” she pleaded.

“You’re not worth the gunpowder,” Humphrey answered and spit at her, the brown juice landing on the hem of her dress. “Haul ‘em to the bow!”

Two men grabbed her and forced her to walk. Their rancid body odor normally would have sent her into a faint, but on this occasion, the stench under her nose actually roused her. She willed herself to resist them, but her body was immobilized with fear and refused to do her bidding. The men carried her forward until the only thing in front of her was a long board set out specifically for her to jump from.

Humphrey brought his face up close with hers, his alcohol soaked breath stinging her eyes. “I wash my hands of ye,” he snarled. “I give you back to the sea from which you came, the sea from which I saved ye. Both of ye ungrateful rakes.”

She’d been so focused on her own plight she’d forgotten about Gaston. Turning to him with the lightest of curiosity, she noticed his eyes rounded as if he were attempting to communicate with her. She shrugged in question. He jerked his head in the direction of the churning water below and nodded as if he were encouraging her.

He wanted her to jump in the water? As if she had any choice in the matter.

Behind her, the crowd waited for her to accept her fate and take her last paces. Never at a loss for words, Gaston asked if the captain could spare a bottle of rum.

The captain gave a harsh laugh. “There’s plenty to drink where ye’ll be a goin’!”

The ship sang with glee at the captain’s clever retort.

“I beseech you, captain. You’ve taken my cutlass and my revolver. The least you could do is spare me some drink for my last hours.”

“Toss ‘im a flask. Ee’s been good entertainment,” Humphrey said to the crew.

The deck hand gave him a mocking grin as he tucked a small flask into Gaston’s breast pocket.

“That’ll do then. Off this ship with ye!” Humphrey took Frederica by the shoulder, her hands still tied behind her back.

She focused on the knots in the wood grain embedded in the beam below. Determined to remain firm in her dignity, she placed one foot in front of the other. Her captor need not push her overboard. She held her head proudly and slowly took another step.

“You will burn in hell for this, Captain Humphrey,” she said in a measured tone, then stepped out into thin air.

Chapter Nine

Balling his fists behind him, Gaston felt as impotent as Humphrey when Frederica took her final step. With a soft splash, her body sliced through the sapphire water below.

Pivoting to face the mass of bloodthirsty sailors, Gaston inched slowly backwards. The threat of the ocean didn’t frighten him the way it did most men. He fully expected the sea would claim him one day, and he’d made peace with the idea long ago when he adopted the life of piracy. Plus, this was far from over. He’d escaped worse sentences.

His lips curled into a smile that would befit a king. Conversationally, he said, “You haven’t seen the last of me, Humphrey.” With that, he walked backwards until his feet found no purchase.

The fall was exhilarating, air whooshing against his face until the inevitable crash with the water’s surface. A second later, the ocean engulfed him.

It always amazed him how the initial impact with the water’s surface stunned the body before engulfing it with the fluidity of the water. Resurfacing, he took a moment to absorb the impact’s sting. The voices of the men on board cursing and jeering at them carried on the wind, but Gaston chose to ignore them.

Collecting himself, he called Frederica’s name. She didn’t answer, but he noticed her floating about twenty yards away. He made his way towards her, swimming more like a dolphin than a man since his arms were bound.

By the time he reached her, his breath was labored. “Are you alright?”

“Alright?” she shrieked. “How could I possibly be alright? We’re stranded in the ocean! Shark bait!” Her voice was shrill, her face white as a dove.

He wished he could shake her by the shoulders, but since his arms were bound behind him, that wasn’t an option. “Frederica! Take hold of yourself!” he barked.

She glared at him, floundering amidst the waves, the heights of which were significant.

“Come closer and help me take off my boot.”

“What? Which one?” she asked.

“The left one. Here, I’ll float my leg next to your hands. I’ll push against my other leg. You pull.”

With an exasperated sigh, she complied with his request. Tugging on his footwear, she asked, “Why are we doing this?”

“There’s a knife in there.”

“A knife? So we can cut these ropes loose?”

He nodded, giving her a now-you’re-catching-on look.

The boot gave way and Frederica maneuvered herself to where their bound hands touched. Her soft fingers clutched his rough ones, and he tilted the boot, retrieving the knife in the process.

“Hold onto my boot and I’ll cut your hands loose. Then you can do mine.” He’d be able to cut hers while bound, but she’d need both hands and a good set of eyes when she used the knife on his bindings. He didn’t like the idea of her accidentally nicking one of his arteries, not to mention that blood would bring the sharks. No, he would go first.

She nodded in agreement, for once not giving him her usual sass.

Sawing through her ropes in a matter of minutes, he freed her hands. She shook her limbs and rolled onto her back, waving her arms and legs in the shape of an angel. “It feels so good to be free! And the ocean’s not as horrid as I thought it would be.”

“My turn. Please use caution.” Gaston handed her the knife and rolled into the dead man’s float on his belly, giving her prime access to his wrists. He felt the sawing of the knife, but never its blade. She did a fine job, he had to admit.

Once his hands were free, he came up for air. “Now take your clothes off,” he ordered her and began to remove his breeches.

She sputtered. “I beg your pardon? You think now that you are free of Humphrey, you may have your way with me?”

He chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself. Don’t you feel the weight of your clothes? Remove those wet clothes, or your modesty will drown you before the ocean has the chance.”

Through puckered lips and a creased brow, he could see her face absorb his words. She reminded him of a child who had been recently chastised for exhibiting dangerous behavior. She acquiesced, but she didn’t like it, a thundercloud settling on her face as she stripped off her dress and undergarments.

“I’ll need help with my corset, if you don’t mind,” she said, turning her back to him.

“Certainly,” he said formally, though his thoughts were anything but as he unlaced the sexy undergarment, releasing her from her all physical barriers between them.

They each had a bundle of clothes in front of them which they held onto. Only their heads bobbed in the water. While the water was clear, the bobbing of the waves distorted any view he would have had of her nudity in calmer seas.

“Happy?” she snipped.

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Frederica, if we are going to survive this, my dear, you are going to have to adopt a more positive attitude. Do you really think I had you undress so that I might spend the last of my energy taking you in this rollicking sea? Amidst these waves?”

“Most likely not,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Good. Then stretch out and float. You must save your strength.”

Gaston tied their garments together, making a chain rope of cloth. He tied one end to his right leg and the other end to her left leg. He clutched his boots, which now held his knife, his navigational instrument, and the precious flask.

“You swim well for a girl. Hell, most pirates don’t know how to swim. How did you learn?” he asked.

“There was a creek behind my grandmother’s house that I played near. So much so that it scared my parents. My father made certain I acquired a certain proficiency in the water, said he’d never hear the end of it from my mother if I drowned,” she laughed and reached her arms out to splash at the water playfully.

Gaston noted Frederica must have been a handful for her parents. Willful, troublesome, and too smart for her own good. Just the sort of woman he was drawn to. The sort of woman who could understand him.