The Prize (11 page)

"No." He
wasn't even looking at her now. "Mac! Gus!"

A brawny seaman armed
with two pistols, each tucked into his belt, two daggers and a sword hurried
forward, followed by a slender blond lad, also heavily armed. Both men bore
their share of blood, not their own. "Cap?" the redhead asked
quickly.

"Gus will take
Miss Hughes to the
Defiance
.
Make certain that her bags accompany her.
Issue the following orders—no one is to speak to her, look at her or
acknowledge her in any way. She is my personal property, and as far as the crew
is concerned, she does not exist. Am I clear?"

Mac nodded.
"Yes, sir."

Gus nodded grimly as
well. Neither man looked her way, not even once.

Virginia
choked in disbelief. She was his
personal property? "I thought I was your guest!" she cried.

The captain ignored
her, as did Mac and Gus. "Mac, you captain this ship," the
golden-haired pirate said. "Sail her to

Portsmouth
. We'll take our bounty from the
prize agent there. Drogo, Gardener and Smith will stay on board to crew for
you. Handpick ten others. I will be following," he said.

Mac blinked.
"Yer comin' with us to
Portsmouth
?"

He clapped a hand on
Mac's broad shoulder. "Our plans have changed," he said flatly.
"You will rejoin the
Defiance
in
Portsmouth
."

"Yessir."

Virginia
, listening intently and watching
closely, felt her heart sink. Why were his plans changing? She prayed that it
had nothing to do with her.

And what did he
intend to do with her? It crossed her mind then that she was well enough
dressed for him to be thinking of ransoming her. On the other hand, Mrs. Davis
was the one with the pearl necklace, the diamond rings and the expensive
clothing.

The pirate said,
"Mr. and Mrs. Davis, I suggest you go down to your berth. We have a fine
nor'easier and we're setting sail immediately. You will be allowed to
disembark in
Portsmouth
."

Clearly in terror,
the
Davis
couple rushed past the pirate
and disappeared into the hold below.

Now
Virginia
had a very bad feeling indeed.
Why wasn't he robbing Mrs. Davis? Her rings were worth thousands of dollars. A
new fear—and a new dread—filled her.

The pirate started
away.

"Captain
O'Neill, sir?" Gus hurried after him.

O'Neill didn't stop.
"You may address Miss Hughes for the sole purpose of finding the location
of her bags and escorting her to my cabin, Gus." He did not look back at
Virginia
, not even once. He leapt onto
the higher portion of the deck where clearly many of his cannons had done a
great deal of damage to the middle mast and sails. Several pirates seemed to be
about to attempt repairs to the rigging mere.

"Lash the
mainmast," he commanded. "There's good canvas below. Replace the
main staysail. The rest can be patched. Put everyone on it. You have one hour
and we set sail. I will not lose this wind."

Virginia
stared at his tall, arrogant
figure, until she realized that someone was speaking to her.

"Miss Hughes,
please, this way, Miss, er, Hughes."

Virginia
turned and faced the blond man,
who seemed younger than herself. His cheeks were flushed and he was not looking
at her, clearly taking his captain's orders very seriously, indeed.
"Where are we going?"

Still gazing past her
shoulder, he said, "To the
Defiance
.
Where
are your bags?"

"In the cabin
below," she said, hardly caring about her baggage.

Gus turned, grabbed
another young sailor, and sent him below for her luggage.
Virginia
found herself at the railing
where a dinghy waited for her in the swells below. She hesitated, filled with
desperation now.

He had said he would
not hurt her. She didn't believe him. She would be a fool to believe him. She
dismissed the notion that he intended to ransom her, for he hadn't looked
twice at the wealthy
Davis
couple. What did he want?
What
could he possibly want?

The
Atlantic Ocean
was silvery gray, far darker
than his eyes, and it looked as immensely threatening. One false step and she
would be immersed in its frigid watery depths. It crossed her mind that another
woman would jump to a watery death, saving herself from any further abuse.

She gripped the rail
tightly. She had no death wish, and only a fool would choose suicide over life—any
kind of life.

"Do not even
think about it," he said, landing catlike by her side.

Virginia
flinched and met his brilliant
gray eyes.

He stared back and he
was very angry, indeed.

Virginia
reminded herself to never forget
that this man had acute senses—that he did not miss a thing—that he almost had
eyes in the back of his head. Perversely, she said, low and almost as angry as
he, "If my wish is to jump, the time will come when you will not be able
to stop me."

And he smiled.
"Is that a challenge or a threat?"

She inhaled, struck
hard by his look, his tone, his words: Something odd happened then. He was
standing so close, he was so tall, so virile, so in control, and with the
comprehension that he would not allow her to die came a breathless sensation
and a fiery tingling to her every nerve. She backed away instantly, nervously,
suddenly awash in confusion.

"Get her to the
Defiance
.
And if she even looks at the water,
blindfold her," he snapped to Gus.

Virginia
stared. He stared back. In that
moment she knew that in any battle that ensued between them, she simply could
not win.

Male arms lifted her
over a hard shoulder. She cried out, but it was too late, for Gus was climbing
down the rope ladder to the dinghy, holding her like a treasured sack of gold.
Upside down, she met the pirate's eyes. It was hard to see clearly from this
humiliating position, but she could have sworn that he was frowning harshly at
her now.

And by the time she
was right side up and seated in the bow, he was gone.

From
the decks of the
Americana
the seas had looked pleasant enough. The
moment the dinghy was set free, the small boat leapt and bucked wildly as two
sailors rowed it toward the hulk that was the
Defiance
.
Virginia
gripped the edge of the boat, sea spray
soaking her. A minute ago, the
Defiance
had
seemed so close by. Now it looked terribly far away.

A huge wave took the
rowboat high up toward the sky.
Virginia
bit her lip to keep from crying out and then they were cast at breakneck speed
toward the pit of the rushing seas.

But they did not go
under. Another frothing swell raised them up again.
Virginia
hadn't eaten since that morning, but she
realized she was in danger of retching. She managed to tear her gaze from the
violence of the ocean and saw that none of the sailors seemed at all concerned.
She tried to breathe more naturally but it was impossible. Then her gaze met
Gus's.

Instantly he looked
away at the mother ship, his cheeks crimson.

What nonsense, she
thought angrily, to order the men to

avoid looking at her.
"Gus! How will we disembark?" she shouted at him. An attempt to do so
now seemed suicidal.

Another huge sea
spray thoroughly soaked her; Gus acted as if he hadn't heard her question. The
ocean was very loud, however, so she repeated herself, now hollering. His shoulders
squared and he refused to look her way.

Finally they reached
the other ship. A sailor tossed down ropes and a plank attached to the ship was
lowered, answering
Virginia
's question. She could not wait
to get out of the bucking rowboat.

The sailors above
were staring at her. Their rude gazes gave her a savage satisfaction. Gus said
tersely, "She's the captain's. No one's to speak to her, no one's to look
at her, captain's orders."

Four crude gazes
veered away.

As
Virginia
was helped onto the plank by
Gus, who held on to her with a firm grip, she wondered at the control^ that
O'Neill had over his men. How did he instill their instant submission and
obedience? Undoubtedly he was a cruel and harsh master.

"This way,"
Gus said, not looking at her. He'd released her arm now that they were on the
vast main deck of the frigate, for she rode the sea more gently than the dinghy
and even than the
Americana
.

A sick feeling began.
Virginia
gazed about her at the huge
pirate ship, wishing she knew her fate. She found herself being led across the
deck, where word of the captain's orders had obviously spread, as she was
studiously avoided. A moment later she was in a small cabin with her single
valise, the door closed behind her.

Virginia
hugged herself. It had happened.
She was the pirate captain's prisoner—she was in the pirate captain's cabin.

She shivered,
realized she was trembling from the cold— she was soaked from head to foot—and
she blinked and

glanced around at her
new accommodations. The cabin was about four times the size of the berth she'd
shared with the
Davises
. It was, in fact, luxuriously
appointed. Just beyond the doorway there was a low four-poster mahogany bed,
bolted to the floor and covered with paisley silk quilts in a bold red, black
and gold pattern. Gold-tasseled red velvet pillows were piled high on the bed,
looking distinctly Eastern. Two rows of shelves were on the wall above the bed
and two dark red Persian carpets covered the floor. A desk covered with books,
maps and charts was in a corner of the cabin.

There was also a
fine, small dining table in the cabin, gleaming with wax, its pedestal base
incredibly carved, clawed and detailed. Four tall, elegantly upholstered
striped chairs graced it. A black Chinese screen, inlaid with mother of pearl,
was against the fourth wall. A closet seemed to be built into the wall. A
porcelain hip bath was there, as well.

Virginia
grimaced, terribly uneasy. She
hated being in his quarters, surrounded by his personal effects. Worse, it bothered
her to no end that the appointments were far more elegant than those of her
own home. She walked over to the bed. ignoring it, but helplessly wondering
where she was going to sleep. There were some folded garments on one shelf— she
saw what she thought were drawers and stockings. There was a mirror, a razor, a
thick shaving brush, a toothbrush and a gold-engraved porcelain bowl. There
were also several candles in sterling-silver holders.

Dismay somehow joined
the unease.

On the higher shelf
were dictionaries: French-English, Spanish-English, German-English,
Italian-English, Portuguese-English and Russian-English. And then there were
two small, tattered books, one on common phrases in the Arabic language, the
other Chinese.

Was her captor
educated? He'd had a heavy Irish brogue, but he'd also had the airs of an
aristocrat. In fact, he hadn't

appeared at all the
way she would expect a pirate to appear— he hadn't been toothless, smelly and
dirty—except for the blood. It crossed her mind that he had been clean-shaven,
too.

She couldn't stand
it. The cabin, filled with his presence, now threatened to suffocate her. She
rushed to the door and tried it, expecting to find it locked. To her shock, it
opened instantly.

She wasn't locked
in.

The door ajar, she
peered out and saw that the preparations on the
Americana
were almost complete. A new mainsail was
being unfurled, which meant only one thing—the ship would soon begin to sail.
If only she could manage to get back on board, she thought.

She stepped out of
the cabin. It was growing later in the afternoon now and a swift breeze had
picked up, chilling her more thoroughly. She shivered, shading her eyes with one
hand and gazing out at the
Americana
.
No dinghy remained tied to its side, so even
if she could have thought of a way to get back over to the other ship, it was
too late; the ships were casting off.

Cautiously,
Virginia
glanced around. Men were climbing
the masts, unfurling some sails, reefing others, and other men were hoisting a
huge anchor. No one seemed to be aware of her presence.

She hesitated, then
saw him on the quarterdeck.
Virginia
stilled. He was obviously giving
orders. The strong wind was now blowing strands of his hair wildly about, even
though he wore it tied back, and it was also causing his billowing and
still-bloody shirt to collapse against his torso, defining ridge after ridge
and plane after plane of muscle. His presence was commanding. Far too
commanding for him to be some farmer-turned-pirate. The man was an aristocrat,
she decided instantly, an aristocrat gone bad.

He saw her and across
a vast distance, he stared.

Virginia
found it hard to breathe.

A moment later he put
his back to her. The
Defiance
suddenly bolted as if it were a horse let
out of a starting gate.
Virginia
was thrown back against the
outside wall of the cabin.

Gus appeared.
"Captain asks that you stay below, Miss Hughes," he said, refusing to
make eye contact with her.

"Then why
doesn't he lock the door?" she asked tartly.

"Please go
inside, Miss Hughes. Captain's orders," he insisted, crimson-cheeked once
again.

"Gus!" she
snapped, gripping his wrist. "I don't care what he's ordered, as he is not
my captain!"

Gus blinked and, for
one moment, regarded her with disbelief.

She felt a tiny surge
of triumph. "Please look at me when you address me. I am not a door or a
post."

He flushed and looked
away. "Captain's orders, miss."

"Damn your
murdering captain! Damn him to hell— which is where I have no doubt he will one
day end up, far sooner than later!"
Virginia
cried.

Gus dared to glance
at her again. "Wind's changed. Storm's coming. Please go inside or I am
ordered to take you in."

Virginia
made a distinctly unladylike
sound, very much a snort, and she stormed into the cabin, slamming the door
shut behind her. She waited to hear a padlock being put in place, but she heard
nothing at all. But they were in the middle of the
Atlantic Ocean
, and there was, quite simply, nowhere for
her to go.

She would escape
in
Portsmouth
.

Virginia
sat down hard on one of the
dining room chairs, filled with sudden excitement. They were but a day away, if
she understood correctly. Surely she could keep the lecherous captain at bay
for an entire day—and surely, in the next twenty-four hours, she could come up
with a plan.

                              
95

And
Portsmouth
was in
Britain
. Somehow she would find a way to get from
Portsmouth
to
London
, where she was certain her uncle was
expecting her.

Hope filled her. So
did relief.

Virginia
finally faced the fact that she
had nothing to do other than plot and plan. She was freezing, though, and she
eyed her valise. She was afraid to change. She was afraid of being caught in a
state of undress by the captain. Rubbing her hands together, she decided to
focus on planning her escape.

Within minutes, her
mind slowed and dimmed and her eyes became heavy, refusing to stay open.
Finally, her head fell onto her arms and she was asleep.

"Sir. She's gone
below," Gus said.

Devlin allowed his
first mate to handle the ship's helm but he stood beside him, studying the
racing clouds, the graying light, acutely aware of the sudden drop in
temperature. A gale was blowing in and Ms every instinct, honed by eleven years
at sea, told him it would be a nasty one.