Bound by Decency (16 page)

Her heart in her throat,
India
took a bold step forward. “Cain!”

The need to duck and hide pressed her hard. Yet out of sheer determination to stop this nonsense, she pressed onward through the sweaty, anxious bodies. A ball zinged past her shoulder, and she jerked sideways. For a long moment, all she could do was stand and pant, one hand clutched at the base of her throat, the other fisted against her pocket to still
her trembling fingers
.

A heavy weight against her back pushed her forward and pulled her from the clutches of fear. She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and fixed her sights on Cain, high atop the forecastle deck. With a mighty shove to the broad back that blocked her way, she shouldered through the packed space to stand at the base of the stairs.

“Right now, lay the grap—”

“Cain!”

He wheeled around, his gaze searching the decks. When he found her, his eyes widened a fraction. Quickly, his expression shifted, and a glare
as dark as thunderheads needed no
interpretation. She wasn’t welcome. He pursed his lips, stuffed his pistol into the waistband of his loose trousers.

India
set a foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, but as she grabbed for the inset rail, Cain snatched her elbow. His fierce grip dug in to the tender underside of her arm. She flinched at the painful pinch and tugged against his hold. “Cain this is ridiculous. You can’t stop the Navy. All they want is me, turn me over.”

He thrust her ahead as if he hadn’t heard her words. Jaw set into a harsh line, he ushered her across the crowded deck and down the narrow hall to the cabin. One wide palm slapped against wood as he shoved the door open. “Get inside before you kill yourself.” A rough shove pushed her inside.

India
clutched at his arm. “Cain, listen to me, please. If you grant my freedom I can speak to the Admiral and convince him to let you go this time. There’s no need to endanger yourself.”

He loomed over her, dark and menacing. Blue eyes glittered like brittle shards of glass. Anger heightened the color in his cheeks. “
That
is not your blessed Navy. It is a pirate ship, which I am in the process of overtaking.” One jerk of his arm freed him from her grasp. “A task I cannot accomplish if I am distracted by the matter of your safety.”

“A pirate ship?” she shrieked. “But
you
are pirates!”

“Aye, indeed we are, and this, my little bird, is what pirates do. Now get inside the cabin and stay there!”

He slammed the door with so much force, the lamp on his desk flickered and another glass toppled from the tall shelves behind her. She stared at the doorknob, too stunned to move. This was no act of defense. Cain had deliberately engaged another ship.

Pistols discharging and the sound of steel meeting steel drowned out Cain’s retreating footsteps.
The Kraken
lurched hard to larboard
. T
he sickening sound of splintering wood echoed through the hall.
India
grabbed at the desk to keep from falling to her knees. She closed her eyes to the nightmare around her and prayed they would survive.

351

Bound By Decency

15

C
ain dodged the stout ropes laid across the decks and the solid line of men standing over them. He palmed his pistol and jumped over a toppled crate to assume position on the forecastle. Drake remained on the quarterdeck. Years of working sidelong with one another gave them an advantage the rovers across the narrow patch of sea couldn’t begin to claim. They shouted coordinated commands, timed both aft and fore with such precision that the smaller sloop didn’t have a prayer of success.

Cain braced a foot on the bottom plank of the sturdy rail, and with one last look at the door to his cabin to insure
India
had obeyed, he dismissed her from his mind. As long as she remained within, no danger could come to her. On the other hand, if he did not put his mind to duty, he ran the very real risk of death.

As he fired his pistol, he surveyed the opposition. A motley crew of men, similar to the very ones he commanded, peppered the decks. Though they equaled
The Kraken’s
crew in number, they were a pitiful lot who could not even organize themselves enough to decide which side of the sloop they would stand on. Some bore expressions akin to a lost and frightened child’s. The more seasoned fought as if they desired nothing more than to join Davy at the bottom of the sea.

Cain fired again. When the ball lodged into a brawny man’s gut, and the man pitched sideways into his companions, Cain felt nothing. No regret, no remorse, and above all, no elation. He had reached that sacred place where his mind ceased to overanalyze and he functioned on instinct alone. Where the will to survive and to protect those who fought at his side overrode all else.

Above the volley of guns, Drake’s command drifted down the decks. “Hands, grapples now! Prepare to board!”

Cain leaned his weight on his back leg, drew his cutlass, and arced his arm above his head. With a lunge forward, he brought the sturdy blade down in the direction of the sloop. “Hooks, now!”

“Eave!” the men answered in unison. They moved as one fluid body and threw the heavy claws of iron into the air. Clangs mingled with dull thumps as spikes embedded into the sloop’s thick timbers.

Cain grabbed an overhead line and jumped onto
The Kraken’s
rail. The scent of sulfur hit him in the face, and for one fleeting moment, all the excitement of the hunt came to him. His pulse bounded, his heart knocked in double time. He was Cain once more, unjudged and bound to no man. Daring brigand. Certain victor.

He breathed deeply of the crisp salty air and watched as the sloop inched closer to
The Kraken
. From the corner of his eye, he caught the unrelenting motion of his men. Hand over hand they hauled the smaller ship in. Closed the narrow distance.

A grin broke free as Drake jumped for an overhead line, climbed into the ratlines, and with a mighty thrust of his legs, swung himself into the air. “With me! Boarders away!”

Cheers erupted. Eager hands mounted the rail, threw themselves over the narrow expanse. Swords sliced with the touch of their feet, and anguished howls rang through the air.

Cain put his hilt between his teeth and brought his other hand to the rigging. He leaned back, gathering his weight in his arms, prepared to kick off the rail and swing into the fray. But a movement from his right stopped his forward motion. He caught his toe on the rail and dragged himself to a halt. Disbelieving
India
would be so foolish, he squinted at the door to his private hall.

It stood open, the dark recess a gaping maw.

He quickly scanned the decks for her long dark hair. When nothing but men engaged in blades met his gaze, he dropped from the rail and took his sword in hand. He had shut the door himself. If she hadn’t come out, then someone had gone in.

Ice flooded his veins.

He vaulted off the forecastle onto the main deck. Two steps toward the mizzenmast, a cutlass glanced across his arm. He spun around. With a fluid slice, he caught the offender in the shoulder. The stranger’s face twisted in pain. He cried off and backed away, one hand pressed to the deep gash.

Cain pressed forward into the thick scrape of steel. Yet another man stepped before him, his whiskered face drawn into a sadistic sneer. Enraged by the delay, Cain knew no mercy. He thrust his cutlass into the sailor’s thick girth, then drew back to cleave him across the chest. When the man dropped to the ground moaning, Cain stepped over his bloody body. One thought pounded through his head
:
India
.

****

I
ndia
’s eyes flew open at the sound of the creaking door.
Cain!
He’d come back. It was over. Somehow, they’d survived. The breath she’d been holding came out in a rush as she turned around, a relieved smile on her face.

But her smile faded as she set her eyes upon the same man who’d tried to lead her down the hatch earlier in the afternoon. In one quick sweeping glance, she took him in from head to foot. No blood spattered his dingy-white muslin shirt. Black powder streaks ran down the length of his right leg, presumably from being near a cannon. Or the powder from the pistol that was tucked into the front of his waistband.

Her gaze locked on the curved blade in his right hand, and she took a step back. Her heel grazed the corner of the desk. To keep from stumbling, she caught herself on her hands. The act thrust her chest forward, and the man’s uncovered eye riveted on her breasts.

A slow, despicable leer spanned across his thin mouth. “Aye
, that’s right, sweetie, offer ’
em up. You know what me be wantin’
,
don’t ye?” As he moved closer, he watched her like a lion stalking prey. “Come t’John, lass. I’ll show ye what yer dear Cap’n can’t.”

India
inched away, but the hard mass at her back thwarted retreat. She splayed her fingers on the desk behind her, subtly searching for the letter opener she’d glimpsed near Cain’s well-used ledger. “I’ve done nothing to you. Leave me be.”

“Ah, lass
.
”
H
e chuckled as he reached between them and cupped her face. “It’s what you’ll be doin’ t’me, that has me here.” His rough thumb scraped across her cheek. “Let’s be startin’ wit’ a kiss.”

He lowered his head, and his foul breath washed across her face. She twisted her
head
, unable to bear the wretched odor. His grip became bruising, and he forcibly turned her face back to his. His mouth descended on hers, harsh and cruel. Stiff whiskers stabbed into her chin.

“Take your hands off her, Slater.” Cain’s low voice cracked through the air, laden with fury.

Slater dropped his hand as if
India
’s skin had burned him. He slid rough fingers down her neck
. T
hey closed around her throat. Slowly, he turned to look at Cain. “Ah, Cap’n, ye’ve come t’watch the show.” With the tip of his sword, he gestured at the overstuffed chair. “Take a seat. We won’t be long. Then ye kin take yer turn.”

India
clawed at his hand. But her efforts only rewarded her with the tightening of his fingers. Her throat inched closed, and she willed herself not to panic. Eyes wide with terror, she looked to Cain. What she read in his expression stirred some unrecognizable part of her soul. Though he’d been angry with her earlier, what burned behind his eyes as he stared down Slater was cold and dark. Full of hate.

Deadly.

Cain’s gaze flicked to her, and for
a
moment it softened. Yet before she could decipher the full meaning behind those cobalt blues, he turned his focus on Slater again. The silent exchange furthered her courage. Her fear ebbed. In a hundred years, she would have never wished harm on a single human being, but as her gaze fastened on Slater’s lecherous grin, she wanted him to die.

“If you wish to take another breath, let her go, Slater.”

Her captor chortled, again spewing fetid air from his throat. “Ye must think me fool ta believe ye intend t’let me walk out of here alive, Cap’n. I know ye better’n that.”

Using her throat as a lever, Slater guided
India
sideways to better confront Cain. So unnatural was the movement, so full of pain
from
his grip, that
India
tripped over her feet. To prevent from hanging herself on his arm, she flung a hand out to catch herself on the desk. As her palm connected with the cluttered surface, Cain’s ledger tumbled to the floor. The tip of her index finger touched cold metal.

“Now sit, Cap’n,” Slater commanded. “A delicate neck she be havin’. It’d be a shame if it snapped.” To emphasize his meaning, he gave her throat a squeeze.

India
yelped at the bite of ragged nails. The sound stole the last of her breath, and she found she couldn’t draw in another. Long moments passed where she heard their voices but words did not make sense. A strange warmth filtered through her limbs. Her ears began to ring. As her knees wobbled, darkness descended behind her eyes.

In the next instant, Slater relaxed his fingers.

India
gasped. Air rushed in to fill her lungs. Rage slid into her veins. Only a coward would hide behind a woman. A man who was no better than a flea-ridden dog.

She glanced sideways in search of Cain. He sat in the chair, his jaw set and his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. In the dim light she caught the faint white of his knuckles, the checked fury that lay just beneath his calm exterior.

“Thirty lashes I be gettin’ fer a bit o’ sport.” Slater directed his words at Cain. “Thirty lashes fer a
woman
. One who ain’t got but one purpose fer bein’ aboard a ship.”

“You signed the Articles, Slater. Took an oath, like the rest of the men.” Cain kept his voice even, his gaze locked on the threat.

“Aye, an’ the Cain I sailed fer woulda never thought o’ whippin’ a man fer the woman’s foolishness.” He glanced at
India
with a snort. “Somethin’ ta do.
Bored
ye say. An’ ye didn’t offer no protest.” Looking back to Cain, his gaze narrowed. “Don’t sound like she weren’t willin’ t’spread her legs t’me.”

While he spoke, his hold on her throat relaxed.
India
pulled in a long breath to combat the acceleration of her pulse and lifted her index finger. She trapped the metal beneath it, and curling her knuckle, edged it closer to her palm.

“Don’t be daft! She’s not a common whore who would lay with gutter tripe.”

In the corner of her vision, Cain’s blade glinted beneath the lamplight as he moved. It took all of
India
’s willpower not to investigate his position and keep her mind on the object beneath her fingers. She lifted her third and forth fingers and tucked the insignificant blade beneath her palm.

“Aye, but she be layin’ wit’ the cap’n. Makes her a prize. An’ since I be due a share of all our treasure, I aim ta’ take me piece.” Slater rasped a chuckle. “Don’t ye be worryin’, Cap’n, there’ll be plenty left fer ye. Though I won’t be guaranteein’ she won’t find ye lackin’ after she’s lain wit’ the likes o’ me.”

As hearty laughter gripped Slater,
India
snatched at opportunity. She summoned all her strength and tightened her fingers around the letter opener. Before Slater had a chance to regain his breath, she raised her arm and drove the length of steel into his bicep.

On a pained bellow, his hand fell away from her throat. He grasped the letter opener in a gnarled hand, pulled it out, and tossed it on the floor. “Wretched little bitch!”

Bloodied fingers snatched at her.
India
scurried out of his reach. Sword raised, Cain bolted to his feet. He stretched his free hand out for her, and
India
rushed to grab his fingers. All thoughts of protest forgotten, she followed his urgings and allowed him to guide her behind his back, where she backed up several more paces to put as much distance between her and the inevitable clash as she could manage.

Slater spun on Cain, his features a grotesque mask of loathing. His arm arced toward the rafters, sword poised for a lethal descent. Cain raised his weapon to block the downward arc. With a grunt, he shoved the cutlass back at Slater and braced his feet apart, widening his stance. “Now, you die,” he stated flatly.

They moved around one another in a slow, calculated circle. In the low light, Cain’s expression was unreadable. To a stranger, whether he felt rage, offense, or anything at all would be mystery. But to
India
, who had become so familiar with the light behind his blue eyes, his naked fury was as obvious as the blade he held in his hand. And in all her lifetime she’d never seen such unadulterated hate.

Slater’s patience wore out first. In a bold strike, he lunged at Cain with a short thrust of his sword. Cain leapt backwards to avoid the piercing blow. His bare feet grabbed the smooth planks easily. Slater’s boots slipped against the unexpected evasion.