“But—”
“No protests, Finn. You will do as you are told and that’s final.” He set her down on the bed, tugging the counterpane to her shoulders. “Complete obedience, remember?”
She scowled at him. “Captain—”
He leaned over her, a hand on either side of her, his nose only inches from hers. “Protest again, my lady, and I
will
silence you but good.”
“But—”
He grinned, surprising her by capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a soft kiss. Soft, yet surprisingly sensual. His mustache tickled at first, and she couldn’t hold back her low giggle. His lips curled into a smile against hers, his chuckle a warm puff against her cheek. “Do I amuse you?” he muttered, his lips still against hers.
“You tickle me,” she managed to whisper.
He didn’t answer, but continued caressing her lips with his. She quickly adapted to the feathery tickle against her upper lip, forgetting about it entirely as his kiss filled her with an unfamiliar heat. His lips lingered on hers, warm and dry, and surprisingly tender. It wasn’t her first kiss, but it was her first truly sensuous kiss, and she couldn’t help her airy mewl of protest when he pulled away to murmur, “Tempting me on purpose, are you?”
Without giving her opportunity to reply, he kissed her again. Another gentle tickle against her upper lip, but it vanished as his kiss deepened. Butterflies spread their wings deep within her belly, and fluttered them wildly to spread a delightful heat through her veins. His lips were gentle, more than she would have ever guessed, and she wanted only for the delicious feeling to last. Those butterflies quieted some, but roared back to life as her lips parted against the insistent thrust of his tongue against them.
For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman, like she was as delicate as the tiny English girl in Farruco’s cabin, and nearly as desirable. Iñigo teased and tasted her, coming down to press his weight into her. His hands slid down over the rise of her bandages. He caught the topmost layer and she gasped at the sting of the linen scraping raw flesh.
“Finn?” he murmured as she broke the kiss. His eyes held hers even as she pulled away and the tenderness within them was nothing she’d ever seen before. No man ever held her the way Iñigo did and there was no way possible for her to look away. “Your wounds?”
It took a moment for her head to clear enough to understand he was afraid he’d jostled her wounded arm. However, he’d done nothing to hurt her, and she shook her head, whispering, “No.”
He kissed her again, with as much fire as he had moments earlier. She wanted only to pull him closer, to forget Barbados, to forget about the
Smiling Jack
, to forget about Honoria—to forget about everything but the most wonderful things the undeniably handsome man above her made her feel. It made no sense for her to feel these things, but feel them she did and they were as delightful as they were foreign.
Iñigo broke away, lifting his head and catching the silk cord lacing her shirt between his fingers. He paused, as if waiting for her to protest. The urge to laugh rose in her throat. She was hardly about to protest at all. No, she was tired of pretending to be a boy. Now, she wanted only to be a woman, wanted to experience more of Iñigo Sebastiano. After all, he wasn’t a monster, was he? He treated her well—far better than any other master she’d served. Where was the harm?
When she smiled, he mirrored it, tugging on the cord. Finn held her breath, surprisingly impatient for him to part her shirt, to reach the blasted bandages and tear them from her, and ease the sting of her skin, the fire in her belly.
Instead, he bent forward, his lips skimming her collarbone. The fire grew and she couldn’t hold back her heavy, “Mmm…” as she reached for him. Her fingers slid into his hair, delighting at the silkiness of the ebony strands, cool to the touch. His husky, heavy sigh encouraged her and she repeated the motion.
“Finn…” His voice was throaty, his lips creeping down toward her topmost bandage.
“Captain?”
Iñigo growled an oath beneath his breath as Diego's voice echoed throughout the steamy silence and he rapped on the door. “Aye, Diego?”
“We are ready. Mateo has finished his cat.”
Finn squeezed her eyes shut as boiling hot disappointment poured into her. Iñigo swore roughly and called, “Very well. I will be topside in a moment.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Diego's footsteps died away and Iñigo pulled away from her, much to her dismay. Pulling the front of her tunic closed, she said, “Captain?”
“Come, Finn,” he growled, standing upright and moving to his wardrobe. Pulling open the door, he reached inside, emerging moments later with an elegant black hat adorned with a long, maroon feather. Clapping it atop his head, he moved back to the door, saying, “Re-lace and shake a leg. The time has come and I expect you up there.”
Finn's belly twisted sharply, as it seemed to do on an almost hourly basis lately, and she shivered as icy fingers tickled her spine. “Must I go topside? I’ve no desire to witness his punishment.”
A long moment of silence, followed by, “Finn, what was it that happened? Why do you fear the lash the way you do? Has someone taken a whip to you?”
She sighed, looking down as she re-laced her tunic. “Know you
why
I was onboard the
Smiling Jack
? Why I was hiding myself as a boy?”
“I do not. But I have wondered.”
“I signed on, with Ennis, in Bridgetown. It was the first ship I could find in need of men and I had no way of knowing what sort of man helmed her, nor did I have the time to learn. I was in great haste.”
He gave her knowing look. “And you were running from the one responsible for your fear?”
“I was. Tobias Eden is the owner of Eden’s Pass, a sugar plantation outside of St. George Parish. Ennis and I both toiled there. And called him master.”
Iñigo nodded slowly. “Servants?”
“Slaves.” At his look of surprise, she added, “Oh, we were labeled servants, and treated better than the Africans on the plantation. But only just so. My mother was born into slavery—offspring of a Carib Indian and one of the Irish servants originally brought over when Eden’s Pass was first built. I know not the exact date, but it was nearly fifty years ago.
“My mother was a slave—considered such because she had Indian blood in her veins. But Tobias inherited the plantation upon the death of his father and he fancied my mother. She was the one he favored over all others.” She didn’t try to keep the bitterness, the anger, from her voice. It was impossible, as it was something she carried with her for her entire life. Something—nay
someone
—she hated with a fury beyond fury. Her master. Her
father
.
Chapter Eighteen
Finn's voice was flat and cold, almost lifeless. Yet her eyes flashed almost silver with anger. Those eyes hardened into pewter as she continued. “I am the result of their trysts.”
It certainly explained her exotic beauty—a perfect blend of Carib, Irish and English blood melding together to create a stunning young woman. Her skin was darker than that of the English, with a reddish tinge where it was exposed to more sunlight. Her dark hair was thick—not nearly as coarse as a Carib’s, but certainly coarser than her white-blooded counterparts.
He cleared his throat, realizing she’d stopped speaking. “I gather you fared no better than any other servant on this plantation.”
“I did not. Tobias hated me from my birth. Hated that my mother chose her child over her master. She turned him away. As it became more frequent, he demanded an explanation. When she offered up her reason, he turned cruel, frequently punishing her for the most minor of infractions. He tried to sell me when I was but six years old. But by then, I’d been given to his daughter—a girl he’d produced with his wife—and both Mary and Mistress Eden refused to allow him to take me from her. The mistress was almost as kind to me as my own mother, for the sake of her daughter. When Mary married and left to set up house with her husband, I learned it had been all for show. Mistress Eden was as evil as Tobias, but she adored Mary and would do nothing to upset her.
“When Tobias’s first attempt to send me away failed, he grew crueler still. The next summer, he tried again to sell me. Mary intervened and he slapped her. My mother—gentle for all she’d suffered—stepped between them to keep him from hitting the girl again, and Tobias turned on her.”
It wasn’t difficult to see the shimmering tears now gathering in her eyes. The silver smoke was gone, replaced by a sadness belied by her straight-backed countenance. Her lower lip quivered briefly, but she bit down on it, inhaled deeply, and went on, “That night, he gathered all who toiled at the whipping post beyond the northern cane field.” Her voice wavered, but never broke. “For preventing a seven year-old child from being beaten, my mother was given seventy-five lashes. She fainted after ten. By fifty, grown men were vomiting into the bushes…”
Finn never broke down, but a single tear dripped from her lower lashes to slip silently down her cheek. Iñigo wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and take away the agony she must feel at her memories. He made no motion toward her though. She was too proud to do anything but remain stiff against him, refusing to accept whatever comfort he might offer. Instead, he rose from the bed, crossing the room to his armoire. Opening it, he leaned in and rummaged about before emerging with a lacy handkerchief. He returned to sink down on the edge, pressing it into her hand.
“I thank you.”
“There is no need for thanks.” He sat back, keeping enough space between them. “Tell me, did he have you flogged as well?”
“Nay.” She made no use of the handkerchief, but twisted it with both hands instead. “After he killed my mother, he made it plain he had no use for me and there was nothing Mary or Mistress Eden could do to change his decision. I was sent from the house—sent to live with the Africans. I was less than a slave in his eyes, but he could do nothing to a child without appearing to be the greatest of cowards. He hoped the others would reject me. I belonged nowhere. I was a half-breed, which was only slightly better than an animal.
“But he underestimated the men and women who toiled for him. They did accept me. It mattered not to them. I became one of them. And it only infuriated him more.” She sunk back into the pillows, shaking her head again. “I was lashed seven summers ago, when I was in my seventeenth year.”
“Why?”
A rueful chuckle. “I refused Tobias. I was no longer a child, and it no longer mattered to him. Mary had married and left only a few months before when I went to speak with our mistress about a matter concerning one of the other women—one who was too afraid to speak. I held no such fear. I was often in trouble with Mistress Eden, but she chose to punish me by sending me to the hole and withholding food and water. She never told Tobias, but it’s only because she enjoyed punishing me. She was every bit as nasty as her husband and she hated all the females because, one by one, all would share her husband’s bed, whether willingly or not. He was a beast, an animal, and it mattered not if he shared blood.”
Hot anger pricked at Iñigo's innards. It was one thing to have servants, but quite another to be a slave owner. However, being a slave owner paled in comparison to Eden’s forcing himself on Finn. The very idea of another man
ever
laying hands on Finn nearly brought his blood to a full boil. A dull ache spread through his jaw, and he realized how tightly he clenched it. Thankfully, Finn did not notice the muscle he was certain bulged. No, her eyes remained on the floor, her voice still flat and colorless.
“I encountered Tobias in the study, where I awaited Mistress. He wasted no time in attempting to seduce me. He tried sweetness, then threats, and then, he tried to tumble me right there. I was struggling with him on his desk when Mistress Eden walked in. At once, he began hollering at me, about how I ought leave him be and how I should be ashamed at trying to seduce a white man, and all other sorts of lies.
“His wife was furious. He was even more so. And that night, as with my mother, he had me whipped for my insolence. In front of the other slaves. That way, all would know the penalty for speaking one’s mind and denying the master at Eden’s Pass sugar plantation.”
“Was that the only time?”
“Nay. There were others. But that time was the worst. That was when I decided I would disappear with the first opportunity.”
“With Ennis?” Iñigo's gut kinked unexpectedly. What did Ennis mean to her? And why should he care?
She nodded. “He worked in the boiling house and I often took meals to the men down there. He was also a half-breed, son of an Irish father and slave mother. We became friends when we were but twelve years old. I couldn’t leave him behind.” She allowed herself to smile. “My plan was simple. I merely had to wait for the most opportune moment, which came when there was a fire in one of the boiling houses.
“It happens quite often, you know, but this one was immense. Created quite the stir, actually.” She offered up a thin smile, “I disguised myself as a boy using Ennis’s clothes and we ran, never looking back, losing ourselves on the other side of the island. There, I made him cut my hair—” she broke off with a mirthless laugh, “—and we argued about it. He was most unwilling to hack it off, until I threatened to attack
him
with the knife instead. He gave in, of course, and my disguise was complete. Fiona was now Finn.”
Her voice held no little hint of pride and he couldn’t deny hers had been a clever plan. Not to mention it almost made him laugh, as it was quite easy to imagine her threatening a man almost twice her size, and seeing him capitulate. It took a great deal of courage, mixed with a healthy dose of madness, and he smiled at her. “I am impressed, Finn. Very much impressed. And I must admit, I am not at all surprised. You do seem to know how to strike fear, do you not?”
“Born of a lifetime of necessity. I could not show fear at Eden’s Pass. It would have given Tobias even more power, and that was something I would never allow. I would die ere showing weakness, vulnerability.”
“Ahh, but you show it now,” Iñigo replied, his voice low. He reached for her, drawing into his arms once more. “But I give you my word. No one will ever know you have a soft side,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers.
Finn looked distinctly uncomfortable and Iñigo had the feeling she hadn’t meant to divulge her secrets. As if needing to distance herself, she backed away, raking a finger’s worth of dark hair behind her ear. Clearing her throat, she said, “I suppose we’d best go topside, then.”
He wanted to throttle Diego for his untimely interruption, though it did offer up a glimpse of what made Finn, Finn. He nodded. “Aye. We should. I certainly cannot put this off.” He sighed heavily. There was no joy in meting out a punishment, no matter how deserved it might be. The lash left a bitterness in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it because there was no other choice. It had to be done.
Finn stood in the warm air, her stomach churning wildly as the rest of the
María’s
crew gathered about to watch Mateo's flogging. She did not share in the excitement buzzing about her. She loathed it, in fact. But she stood there anyhow, and swallowed hard.
It wasn’t at all easy, standing there, waiting for Mateo to be brought on deck. An icy sweat broke out on her forehead, prickled along her back. Deep breathing helped, but not nearly enough. She simply wished for this to end as quickly as possible.
Finally, Alejandro marched Mateo across the deck and up to the scarred mast serving as the whipping post. She turned away only when Iñigo stepped through the throngs, the new cat-o’-nine-tail in his hand, the leather tails trailing over his shoulder. Nausea rose up in a swift wave as the voices around her died out, all attention drawn now to the
María’s
captain.
Swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat, she pulled her eyes from Iñigo to Mateo. Alejandro made quick work of binding Mateo's wrists about the mast, the same way hers had been when Iñigo made to have her lashed.
A shiver prickled down her spine as Alejandro moved around to stand behind Mateo. Easing a dagger from his leather belt, he gripped it in one fist, grabbed hold of the top of Mateo's tunic with his other, and slit it down the back in one fluid motion. The tattered halves fell away, exposing his broad back, mottled with the bruises and scars from a lifetime of rough living.
She barely heard Iñigo as he announced Mateo's crime and the punishment he’d receive, barely heard the rumblings of the men around her as they urged their captain on. The bloodlust surrounding her was astonishing, to say the least. She glanced around to see most of them smiling, laughing and nudging one another in the ribs.
It was a struggle to breathe as the cat cracked sharply as its tails snapped over Iñigo's head. Instead, she tried to focus on the clear night sky, alit with thousands of sparkling stars. They glittered like diamonds against the endless black sky, like—
It was no use. At the first
squelch
of the tails tearing into Mateo's flesh, Finn flinched, her nausea growing, twisting and churning like a violent storm. A cheer went up from the others, but her mouth was too dry to utter even a squeak. She fought to block out the anguished sound of Mateo's screams with each lash, fought to block out the horrifying sound of the whip biting into his flesh, squeezed her eyes shut at the first sight of his blood as it spurted from his flayed skin.
At last, it was mercifully over. Mateo had slumped into unconsciousness early on and Finn turned away as Alejandro moved to cut him down from the mast, but not before seeing the look of disgust on Iñigo’s face as he threw down the lash. She continued to stare at him as he turned heel and stormed off.