Innocence Lost (26 page)

"I am sorry, but you will be much safer in my care."

"Will I be returned to my family when they arrive with the gold?"

Anger crossed his face momentarily, and Megan knew that Stuart had kept a great deal from him. What kind of pirate was Jack the Black Heart?

"That is the plan,” he answered.

"May I have your word on that, Jack?"

He must have sensed how much his answer meant to her. He pushed a basket of figs in her direction. “You have my word."

She believed him.

The cry of a bird startled Megan awake and reminded her that they had anchored in a secluded cove the night before. She quickly dressed in a dark blue silk gown Jack had found for her and scampered up on deck. She looked at the trees in the distance and smiled. How she longed to walk upon solid earth once again! “Ye smell nice.” Megan spun around. Beak Nose was leaning against a mast, staring at her. She didn't like the hunger in his eyes. “Like spring flowers.” He took a deep breath and stepped in her direction. “I wonder if ye taste as good as ye smell?"

Horrified, Megan ran to the opposite side of the ship. Her heart hammered in her chest. She heard someone approach and turned with a gasp. Stuart and Connor stormed toward her with distressed expressions. “Take her below,” said Connor. “Captain hasna come up yet."

Now that the danger had passed, she didn't want to leave. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not returning to that stagnant cabin until I am good and ready."

"I'll remain with her,” Stuart replied, his lips twitching.

She watched the gulls play chase in the sky overhead. How she wished she could speak to them and send them to Nicholas with a message. She would tell her husband how much she loved and missed him. And to please hurry up and rescue her.

"You look lovely."

Megan frowned at Stuart. “You must cease this."

"What?"

"Spouting complements and staring at me like that."

He moved closer and lifted his hand to her cheek. “I like spouting complements and staring at you."

Megan jerked away. “I am a married woman and I love my husband.” She spun on her heel and marched back to her cabin, much preferring the small, stuffy room to Stuart's advances.

Ten minutes later, the door flew open, cutting off her thoughts. With a start, Megan jerked her head up. Four of the ugliest, most repulsive crewmen filed into her quarters. One of them was Beak Nose. She blinked, but it was no illusion. Her heart surged into her throat. Megan caught a glimpse of Angela in the companionway just before the door swung shut. The shrew had been glowing in satisfaction. Megan cut her eyes back to the men and felt her skin crawl as they advanced forward.

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Megan flew to her feet. “None of you have any right to be here. I demand that you leave at once."

"Ow, now luv, ‘ave a ‘eart. We was told that ye'd be co-operatin',” Beak Nose jeered.

"Obviously, you were misinformed. Now leave,” she ordered, trembling so hard that she found it difficult to stand. They raked their eyes up and down her body. She felt exposed, dirty. And terribly frightened. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Oh, Nicholas. Nicholas!
Please, where are you?
“If you don't leave this instant, I will s-scream.” Her voice rose with her panic.

"Ain't nobody gunna ‘ear ye, luv. ‘Specially if yer muzzled."

Before she could release the shriek of horror lodged in her throat, Beak Nose surged for her. He threw her onto the bed and covered her with his bulky body. Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. He slapped a grimy hand over her mouth and held her wrists above her head with the other. He licked her cheek. “Ye do taste like flowers."

Terror blazed through her. She kicked and thrashed, trying to scream for help. He laughed at her struggle, fanning her face with his sour breath. “Ye like it, ay?” he taunted, rubbing his hardened sex against her.

Oh, God, no. No! Megan sucked back a sob. The others surrounded the bed. Their images blurred as hot, salty tears raced down her face.

The man shoved a dirty piece of linen into her mouth and secured it with twine. It smelled like a chamber pot and tasted of rotten fish. More twine bound her hands above her head. Bile rose from the pit of her stomach when hands covered her breasts. She shook her head and began to fight with all the energy she had left. Their disgusting chants of encouragement rang through the cabin like a death knell. They ripped at her clothes.

She squeezed her eyes shut until pinpricks of light flickered behind her lids. She whimpered when they tugged at the front of her dress. Her heart thudded. The dress tore and cool air rushed over her breasts. The men's cheers grew. Shame washed over her. How would she ever hold her head up after this? Would she even live after this? She struggled to free her wrists and pain seared her flesh.

Their disgusting hands were everywhere. They tore at the material covering her body and pinched her exposed skin with brutal eagerness. She attempted to kick, but someone held her ankles. For the first time in her life, Megan wished she were inclined to swoon. She didn't want to be conscious for this.

Nicholas! The oblivion that she wished for hovered near. Sounds muffled and numbness washed over her. She could feel her body sinking down...down...down... Just before losing consciousness, Megan thought she heard Jack's voice thunder around the room and the men pleading for mercy.

A crash rang through the room. One minute, Megan heard the roar of the men and the feel of their cruel hands, the next minute she felt a soft blanket settle over her. Was it over? Maybe she was dead. She thought she heard her name.

Strong, gentle arms lifted her. Each bruise, each scratch pulsated on her body and she knew that she still lived. Fiery pain licked over her skin. She yearned for the black oblivion once again. She began to struggle in her rescuer's grasp.

"Easy, now. You're safe.” Jack's voice. She slipped into the darkness.

Megan cracked open her swollen, salt-crusted eyes. A rainbow of light gleamed from stained-glass windows. She looked around and saw that she lay on the enormous bunk in the captain's quarters. Jack's room.

She tried to rise and piercing pain shot through her. She felt bruised and battered all over. Then the horrible memory of those men surfaced, and a choked sob escaped her lips.

"Megan?"

Jack stood nearby, frowning. Dark circles lay under his eyes and his brows dipped low. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

She swept her dry lips with a dry tongue. “Jack, did they...” A tear skidded down her cheek.

Jack lifted a cool glass of water to her lips. “Connor and I arrived in time to stop them."

She inhaled a shuddering breath. “How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost eighteen hours,” he answered.

A light knock sounded. Jack's cabin boy carried in a bucket of steaming water. Emily followed close behind, her face pale and full of distress. She stopped before the bed and wrung her hands. “Megan, are you all right?"

Megan smiled in reassurance, ignoring the pain it caused her cracked lips. “I'm fine,” she said.

Jack dismissed the cabin boy. “Megan, I will send something for you to eat in half an hour.” He spun around and left before she could object.

"I will assist you with your bath,” Emily explained. “If you're too hurt to move, I can—"

"I think I can manage.” She lifted the covering from her bare body and grimaced. Bruises and scratch marks covered her skin.

She heard a gasp and looked up to see Emily's eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Megan, I am so sorry,” she sobbed. “And so is Stuart. He wanted to tell you, but the captain wouldn't allow it.” She hung her head, tears dripping from her chin. “Forgive us."

"Neither you nor Stuart is responsible for this. Please help me to the tub."

Emily lifted her damp face, revealing red eyes full of grief and surprise, and did as she asked.

Megan eased into the tub, biting her lip until she tasted metallic saltiness. The steamy water stung her scratches as though her flesh was being torn from her bones. She let out a small sigh and began to wash the blood and grit from her body.

After the bath, she felt almost whole again. Her hair was scrubbed clean, and her battered body no longer ached. Salve and new bandages had been applied to the rope burns that marred each wrist and to the deeper scrapes on her body. Jack had found her a beautiful, cream-colored muslin gown embroidered with dark pink roses. She outlined one of the dainty rosebuds with a fingertip and wondered how she would wear something so pretty after... She gritted her teeth, praying the scars to her soul would heal as surely as the scars on her skin.

Megan sat before a large mirror while Emily pinned her hair into a twist. She lifted her gaze to Emily's ashen face and frowned. “Emily? What is it?"

Emily covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

Megan rose from the chair. Her heart knotted with fear. “What?"

"I-I'm afraid for Angie,” Emily sobbed. “The c-captain has announced that there w-will be a trial up on deck before the day's end. Th-Those awful men claim that she put them up to h-hurting you."

Megan sank into one of the chairs before Jack's desk. Her mind filled with the image of Angela's satisfied features when those men closed the door to her cabin. What kind of punishment would Jack inflict upon a woman?

A tap at the door cut through her musings. When the cabin boy stepped into the room with a tray of food, Jack's voice wafted down to them.

Emily's eyes filled with alarm. “The trial has begun,” she wailed, then hurried from the room behind the cabin boy.

Megan stood at the open door and frowned with indecision. Terror sliced through her at the thought of leaving the safety of the cabin. What would happen if Emily tried to interfere with the captain's orders?

Straightening her spine, she stepped out of the room.

"...And that concludes the evidence against these five. What say you, men? What shall their punishment be?” Jack asked his crew.

Megan stayed within the evening's shadows as she reached the deck. Jack stood before the five tied figures—Angela and those four horrible seamen. She shivered and turned away from the sight of them. The remainder of the crew conversed in a huddle several feet away. Then she caught sight of Stuart watching the proceedings near the rail. His shoulders were hunched, his expression despondent.

Connor spoke. “The men will be flogged at dawn. Twenty lashes each."

Jack nodded. “And the woman?"

Connor's gaze never wavered. “She'll stay the entire night in the hold wi’ the men."

"No!” Angela tried to scramble forward but Connor held her back. “You can't do this to me.” She sobbed hysterically and shook her head.

"Everyone will be tied and a guard will be present,” Jack explained.

She glanced back over her shoulder. The men were scowling mercilessly at her. With a gagging sound, Angela turned away and vomited all over Connor's shoes.

Megan shivered and returned to the captain's quarters. Jack returned a short while later. She turned from the books she'd been studying on his shelf and sat on one of the chairs before his desk.

He poured them each a glass of wine, then eased into his own chair. She indicated the bookshelf. “How do you keep them from falling to the floor during a storm?"

With a smile, he leaned over in his chair. She watched in fascination as he pulled a brass handle and a wooden door slid shut over the books. Ingenious. She glanced back down at the book in her hands, surprised by her amusement. After what she just experienced, she never thought to be amused again. Perhaps, she could get past what had happened.

The next morning, Megan woke with a start to the clamor of running feet and shouting men. She rose from the bed and quickly dressed.

When she threw open the door, an enormous blast sounded. The bottom of her stomach fell away. Dear God.

That was cannon fire.

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Megan raced up on deck, her blood turning to ice in her veins. Men scrambled about, shouting to each other to prepare the cannons. They were going to war. The ship shuddered as it eased out of the cove. She gave a screech and held on to the rail. She looked out to sea and noticed the other ship.
Royal Navy.
Her knees went weak. The frigate dwarfed the
Enigma
and held almost four times as many cannons. Cannons pointing right at them.

Please, God, let her survive this.

With a ferocious blast and a belch of smoke, the frigate fired. The metal ball whistled through the air. Megan gritted her teeth and steeled herself for the impact. The ship moved just enough and the ball missed by inches. Water spewed up, drenching her and five of the crew. She gasped, nearly losing her balance, and coughed as salt water filled her mouth.

Megan shook uncontrollably. That had been the navy's last warning. There would be a brigade of firing next time. Her stomach clenched. She could see the scuttle of red coats on board as they prepared the cannons.

They went off just as the wind picked up, snapping the sails overhead to attention. A long succession of deafening thunder sounded. She shrieked. Her ears rang. The
Enigma
found speed.

It wasn't fast enough. One of the balls struck the top of the aft mast, raining splinters down on deck. The other ball took out part of the rail just a few feet from Megan. Still more hit the side of the ship out of view. The ship jolted with each blow, the masts swinging side to side. She stood paralyzed with fear.

The rail gave way and she screamed. A hand snaked out and grabbed her just in time. “Can ye no’ stay below, woman?” Connor growled and pushed her toward the stairs.

"Are we sinking?” she asked, terrified of the answer. She swiped a wet lock out of her eyes with a trembling hand.

"No’ yet.” He pointed toward the stairs. “Go. Capt'n's orders."

On shaky legs, she made for the opening. She dodged wood from the mast and pieces of a barrel. A moan caught her attention. Beak Nose lay in a pool of blood, his left leg missing mid-thigh, the jagged white bone poking out of red-black muscle. She clamped a hand over her mouth and turned away. Her heart raced. She leaned back against the mast for support. God help her.