My Fallen Angel (14 page)

Lucy was more furious than she could ever recall being in her entire life. She lay under the bed Garrick had stuffed her beneath. He’d ordered her to stay.
To stay!
Like she was some bloody mastiff forced to obey his master.

But for the fact that she was stuffed in between Beth and Tom like the meat of a sandwich, she would have long since kicked the bloody board out. As it was, she was forced to sit beneath the bed inhaling a musty odor and laying atop only God knew what. She shifted to her side, her right elbow colliding with Beth, who let out a gasp. The thin stream of light that trickled sluggishly through a crack allowed Lucy a view of her friend’s annoyed face. Her
very
annoyed face.

“Lucy, stop it.”

“I’m only trying to get comfortable, Beth. Tom, can you move over a bit?”

“Believe me, me loidy, I would if I could. Don’t fancy losin’ me manhood to yer elbow.”

“Tom!” Beth admonished.

“Shh,” Lucy interrupted, “both of you. I think I hear something.”

They grew silent.

“It sounds like footsteps,” Beth said, her voice rising an octave.

“Yes … yes, it does,” Lucy admitted.

They grew silent again until Beth whispered, “Lucy, quit poking me in the sides.”

“Beth, I’m not touching you.”

“Then what … ?” Beth looked down at the same time Lucy did, both of them spying the rat at almost exactly the same moment.

“Rat!” Beth screamed.

“Where?” Tom immediately asked.

“Lucy!”
Beth all but screeched. “Oh, Lucy, get it off of me.”

Lucy did her best, but the rat was as much a prisoner as they were. It scurried over Beth’s abdomen, ran down her leg, then turned left and headed past her own feet toward Tom. Beth screamed louder, and Lucy was left with no choice but to reach out and cover her mouth.

No sooner had she done so than the sound of the cabin door splintering apart broke into the silence. Lucy’s heart beat like the hooves of a runaway horse; Beth squirmed alongside of her.

“They’re in ‘ere somewhere.”

“Aye,” answered another masculine voice.

The steps grew faint, then so heavy they vibrated beneath them. She turned her head and eyed the thin slit of light.

Beth started to struggle frantically and it was then that Lucy realized she was covering not only her friend’s mouth, but her nose. Immediately, she let go. Beth took a great, heaping gulp of air, her gasp sounding like a typhoon roaring overhead. The board was pried away. The nails screeched in protest. The wood splintered. The pirates had found them.

Beth rolled out from under the bed not a second later, but when she spied the repulsive-looking man who stood above her, she crawled backward until she hit the cabin wall.

Lucy crawled out from beneath the bed just in time to see her friend’s eyes roll back into her head.

Beth fainted.

Garrick tried to ignore the burning pain cascading through his knee, tried instead to focus on keeping his wits about him. Already, his skin burned from where they’d tied the rope around wrists, his captors having taken malicious delight in tightening the hemp as taut as it could be drawn. Now they tried to drag him toward the hold, but Garrick was determined to make it as difficult as possible.

There was a flurry of noise from the direction of his cabin. Dread surged through him when he spied Lucy being dragged toward Tully and the man beside him. His dread doubled when he noticed Beth being carried limply in the arms of a man who peeked lecherously at her breasts.

Lucy’s gaze darted around the deck, searching, her expression frantic, but he saw her relax the moment shespied him standing a few feet away. Then she tensed again, no doubt at the sight of the blood and bruises that covered him.

His heart filled with unaccountable pride as he watched her change from intimidated kitten to ferocious lioness in the space of a heartbeat. Not for her a cowering attitude. Instead, her eyes filled with inner fire, her shoulders stiffened, and if she’d had claws, Garrick would have bet she’d have unfurled them and directed them at her captors.

She was magnificent.

Tully seemed captivated by her, too. His lone pupil narrowed as it observed the touch-me-if-you-dare tilt to her chin, her chest heaving beneath her green dress. The only time his attention wavered was to glance briefly at Beth, dismissing her immediately. When he turned back to Lucy, desire, fascination, and possessiveness shone from his eyes.

A growl emerged from Garrick’s chest.

His captors must have heard it, for they suddenly pushed him to the deck. His head struck the boards with dizzying force, a spasm of pain shooting through his leg. A foot landed in his back to hold him down, though he struggled to get back up. Through half-closed eyes he saw Lucy charge in his direction, the only thing that stopped her the handful of hair Tully grabbed as she darted by. The sudden yank caused her to fall at his feet.

“What do you say, men. Should I take ‘er right ‘ere?”

Rage such as he’d never known burned through Garrick’s blood. It doubled when one of Tully’s henchmen came forward and quickly bound Lucy’s wrists behindher back at Tully’s nod. Garrick growled again. He burned to protect her, to smash his fists through Tully’s eye.

He tried to calm down, telling himself he would do Lucy no good angry. He needed to think. Tully’s “boss” was the dey of Algiers, a man who had personally put a price on his head, a price which a leech such as Tully wouldn’t hesitate to cash in on. If he was separated from Lucy his test would be over.

A second man emerged from the doorway, shoving Tom in front of him. The boy fell to his knees. Quick as a cat he got back up, darted forward, aimed, then kicked the pirate right between the legs.

The unwary man toppled to his knees.

His fellow pirates erupted into loud guffaws. A huge brute of a man came forward and grabbed Tom by the back of his white lawn shirt, picking him up off the ground and shaking him as if he were an errant puppy.

“Let me go, ya bloody bastard.” Tom railed his fist at his captor, but the man just held him further away, so that the boy’s fists flailed the air like oars out of water.

One of Tully’s henchmen pulled Lucy to her feet. She shot Garrick one last look of concern, then turned toward Tully, who stared at Tom intently.

“Is this the boy?” Tully asked Lucien.

Lucien came forward and stared into Tom’s angry, yet frightened eyes. For the briefest instant something flashed across the duke’s face, but then it was gone, replaced by triumph. “Aye.”

Tully nodded and turned back to Lucy. With one sweeping glance his eyes darted over her shapely legsand her breasts, which strained against her dress. She didn’t move when he came forward and reached out a hand to tilt her face for his inspection.

“Ya must be Wolf’s fancy piece. It’d take a spitfire like you ta interest ‘im, I’d wager.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared up at him, revulsion curling her lips.

“What yer name?”

Still, she didn’t answer.

“No matter. Won’t make no difference what yer name is when I’m beddin’ ya.”

“I’ll kill you before I let you do that,” Garrick growled.

“I’d like to see you try,” Tully snickered with a pointed look at the men surrounding him. “Take ‘em back to the
Revenger.”

“What do you think they’ll do to us?” Beth asked for about the twentieth time, still looking pale and drawn after the shock of waking up on board an enemy ship—in Tully’s giant bed, to be specific. “I’ve heard they sell women into harems,” she continued. “Do you think they still do that?”

Lucy released a pent-up breath of frustration and kept her eyes firmly fixed outside the ten or so cabin windows. Daylight was turning into dusk, the ocean changing into a deep midnight blue which blended into the sky so well, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

“Oh, I doubt they’ll sell us just yet, Beth. Tully will rape us first, then, when he gets tired of us, he’ll give us to his men,
then
he’ll probably sell us.”

“Luce!”

Lucy turned back to Beth, who looked ready to expire on the spot. She placed a look of apology on her face. “Don’t pay attention to me, Beth. Seeing the man I love beaten to near death has made me a bit cross, not to mention I’m terrified of what they’re doing to Tom right now. And what they’ll do to us later.”

Beth nodded, her eyes drowning in tears. “What are we going to do?” she whispered. “We’ve no idea where Tom is or … or Garrick. There’s no one to protect us from those … those
things
outside.”

“I’ll protect us.” Lucy paced the length of the cabin, trying without success to come up with a plan that would render their captors insensible.

The cabin they were in was far more sumptuous than the captain’s cabin of the
Swan,
the floor even covered by an elegant Turkish rug. Bric-a-brac lay everywhere: strange masks and odd sculptures lay next to used cups, tidal charts, and in one case, a half-eaten piece of hard, moldy bread.

The cabin was actually split in two by a wide arch, the heavy oak beams carved long ago by some demented individual with a penchant for replicating skulls. There were screaming skulls, sneering sculls, grimacing skulls, and Lucy’s personal favorite, a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Every time she happened to glance at the ghastly thing, she shivered with revulsion.

Tully was a sick man, and a hungry man, judging by the size of the dining table that filled the front portion of the room; four elegantly carved chairs that looked distinctly out of place surrounded it.

“Lucy, sit down. You’re making me even more nervous by pacing like that.”

Lucy released a pent up breath, then abruptly took a seat. Beth sat to her left, looking like a guest at a preexecution dinner with her hands clasped in front of her, her lips moving soundlessly in prayer.

Less than a half hour later the lock on the cabin door clicked ominously. Beth sat up so abruptly she almost slipped off the edge of her seat, the look on her face one of unconcealed terror and resignation; Lucy was too petrified to move, though she did her best to conceal it.

When Tully opened the door, he halted just inside the doorway; he first spied the terrified countenance of Beth, and then Lucy’s almost bland expression. Or at least what she hoped was a bland expression. In the off chance it wasn’t, she crossed her booted feet in front of her and leaned back in her chair, glad the table was between her and the pirate. Unfortunately, she spoiled the effect by nearly toppling over backward when the ship rocked back at the same time as she did, forcing her to leap forward abruptly, the front legs of her chair slamming back to the ground with the loudness of a pistol shot.

Lucy looked up in time to spy Tully gazing across at her, his eye filling with lecherous appreciation.

“Where’s the bird?” he called without taking his eyes off of her.

“Here, sahib.” A servant entered the room, a servant unlike any she’d seen before with his black skin, bald head, and bare chest. Lucy stiffened when she spied Prinny on his arm, the bird resting on a thick goldenbracelet. The man halted by his master, bowing slightly as he placed her pet upon Tully’s shoulder as if he were a royal servant cloaking a king. Prinny hopped upon Tully’s shoulder as if he’d done it a hundred times before. Little traitor.

She looked back at Tully. He leered. She shuddered. Viewing him close up did nothing to improve him. The man looked like a pumpkin with a pockmarked face. The black patch he wore cut a deep groove into his sun-weathered skin.

Her gaze darted away when another man entered the room. A gentleman, judging by his manner of dress and the haughty look on his face. He wore a black jacket over his broad shoulders, with fawn-colored trousers encompassing his legs. He was handsome in a brooding kind of way, so much so that he reminded her of Salena’s husband, except with a far more sinister air.

He caught her gaze with his green eyes and bowed slightly. “Good evening, my lady.” He turned to Beth, his expression changing dramatically. “Good evening, Lady Montclair.”

Startled, Lucy glanced at Beth, amazed to see that her friend had undergone a remarkable transformation in the last few seconds. Gone was the cowering Beth slouching in her chair; in her place sat a Beth Lucy didn’t recognize.

“Lucien St. Aubyn,” she sneered.

“You two know each other?” Tully asked, looking between the two, a look of confusion on his melonlike face.

Lucien shot him a glance, his lips curled into an ugly sneer. “Yes.”

“The Pendertons!” Lucy exclaimed, the reason he looked so familiar suddenly surfacing. Good heavens, the man was the Duke of Ravenwood!

At her words those black eyes darted to hers. “Very good, Miss Hartford.” He bowed slightly.

“Al’ays amazes me ‘ow you gents seem ta know each other,” Tully mused.

“I’d sooner claim knowing the devil than knowing this man,” Beth shot, darting a glance at Tully.

The duke flung right back, “Really? I’m flattered.”

Beth’s face turned a bright, vivid red. “Undoubtedly you enjoy watching this pig wreak havoc upon innocent people.”