Crimson Rapture (7 page)

Justin
stopped in front of the captain and addressed him forthright: "Captain
Forester, have you ever sailed into a monsoon?"

"What's
it to you?" came a cold answer.

"To
me nothing; to you, this weathered ship, your crew, and passengers, quite a
bit. A monsoon is like no other storm. One must ride full sail into a monsoon,
with just enough loose sail for steerage and with sails ready to go up as each
rips. You lose masts rather than steerage. And the way you're rigged now,"
he pointed to the sails, "you won't survive."

Captain
Forester looked up to his lowered sails. "I never heard of such measures.
One weathers storms with lowered sails and while you lose steerage—"

"Not
a monsoon," Jacob interrupted at Justin's side. "I got me the color
of my hair from the last one Justin and I went through," he said, lifting
a wet lock of silver hair. "Over two years ago; four of the most
terrifying hours of my life—sixty footers, gale winds that would flatten a
mountain, men drowning just from the rain. I saw men crushed from the size and
force of freak waves that hit them. It's worse than sailing around the horn in
the dead of winter. You've got to steer the ship almost full billow and a sail
at a time, 'cause your only hope of seein' daylight is if you blow through it
and quickly, and even then we all have but the slimmest of chance."

Captain
Forester looked out to the darkness, growing ever larger on the horizon. He had
spent his life at sea and had never heard of such a storm, winds that would
flatten a mountain or men drowning in rain. It was impossible, simply
impossible.

"There
is another chance," Justin said. "Are you aware your ship has drifted
at least a hundred miles north off course?" he asked, and immediately saw
that the information came as a surprise to the captain. "There is a small
chain of islands," he explained, "fifty miles into the monsoon's
course. With any luck the
Defiant
can keep some semblance of bearing and
reach them." He then motioned to Jacob. "Jacob?"

From
his canvas cape Jacob withdrew a folded paper wrapped protectively. "The
bearings to the island," he said as he handed it to the captain.

Captain
Forester's surprise, as well as his doubt, were written plainly on his face. It
was incredulous; too incredulous to be believed. Why would men known for their
ruthlessness and deviousness, for spreading unmitigated terror wherever they
traveled, endeavor to save his ship? Why would Justin Phillips give a damn?

"Rumors
are for idle old women." Justin read the captain's thoughts. "Do not
be misled. Neither I nor any of my men negate the value of human life. Take my
advice—"

"It
will be a cold day in hell before I take your advice, Mister Phillips!"

Justin,
knowing lives would be lost from the captain's inexperience, wasted several
more minutes trying to convince the stubborn man. Unfortunately to no avail.
Frustrated, Justin finally ordered two of his men to explain the situation to
the passengers. Anyone, even the crew, who wanted to board the
Athena
was
to be permitted. He then demanded to know where Christina's cabin was located.

"What
do you want with Miss Marks?"

"To
see her alive."

"You
lay a finger on her or any other passenger, it will be over my dead body!"

Justin
lost all patience with the man and leveled a cocked pistol at his head.
"That could be easily arranged."

Christina
heard Justin's voice in the hall and, unable to bare the suspense, she quickly
scurried between the bunks and wall. Her position afforded a view but kept her
hidden. A man swung open the door and stepped quickly inside.

Christina
stopped breathing.

He
was the most devastating and frightening-looking man she had ever witnessed,
every bit the pirate of her imagination. So tall and half naked like a savage,
his masculinely lean frame radiated a shocking strength and violence, a
violence pronounced by his weapons. His dark hair and beard accented sharp
aristocratic features and as his fine dark blue eyes looked from one face to
the next, his lips curved with an amused smile. He could not be Justin, she
knew, but even the fact that he must be one of his men shocked her.

Justin
refused to believe any of these women was Christina, for there would be no
mistaking that hair. "Christina?" he asked.

Christina
gasped and pressed herself against the wall, closing her eyes at once. It was
his voice! No, it just couldn't be! This man unconsciously imitated Justin's
voice, probably in admiration of his captain...

Justin's
gaze flew to her hiding place and he chuckled, knowing it was Christina even
before his eyes fell on her. She would be hiding at such a moment.

He
stepped quickly in front of her and then for the longest moment, he just
stared, every bit as surprised as Christina.

"I
had heard others say you were lovely—but this?" He ran his hand casually
over her face and down the long length of that hair as his gaze fell over her
slender figure in ready appreciation of the ever-so-feminine proportions. No,
he hadn't expected such startlingly beauty.

Christina
shivered and could not make sense of all she felt, except that shading
everything was fear. He stepped closer, and she still could not look at him,
feeling his strength tower over her. His hand lifted her face to him and her
fear intensified twofold.

He
just stared, stared at the delicately boned face, the high cheekbones flushed
with a soft blush, and her lips! Lips pouting and sensual, the color of dark
red wine and trembling slightly with uncertainty.

"Look
at me," he said, wanting to see the eyes hidden beneath the long black
lashes. She glanced up quickly but retreated instantly, allowing him but a
glimpse of her eyes.

"Perhaps
my fondness has clouded my judgment, though I don't think so. All I can say,
Christina, is had I any idea, our ah, friendship," he smiled, "would
have taken a markedly different turn from the start."

Elsie
and Hanna giggled nervously but she barely heard. She had no idea there was a
name for how his gaze claimed her but she felt possessed and without will, as
though he had locked invisible chains around her wrists to force her bound and
helpless. She wanted to cry in protest, run from him this man, a man she could
never call Justin.

The
ship took a sudden lurch on its side and she gasped as his arms came around
her, pulling her against his hard frame. She froze mutely, startled, then
scared by the sweeping warmth his body pressed on her. He seemed not to notice.

"Listen
carefully, ladies," he addressed the others. "We are headed into a
storm; not just any storm but a monsoon. We run a slim chance of surviving. And
to make matters worse, your captain seems bent on destruction. I guarantee that
if you stay aboard this ship, you'll be joining that great silent majority, so
I am offering passage aboard my ship. While I will guarantee none of you safety
from my crew," he smiled, "I can assure each of you better odds. The
choice is yours."

Elsie
and Hanna exchanged frightened, excited glances. "What do we have to
lose?" Elsie whispered to Hanna.

"My
lady!" Hanna replied.

"Our
ladies or our lives!" Elsie retorted.

Christina
watched in stunned disbelief as Hanna grabbed Elsie's hand and both women
jumped from the bunks to join Justin. He smiled, turned to Marianna and Katie.

Jacob
stepped in the doorway. "Last call—" He stopped, took one long look
at Christina held intimately in Justin's arms, and two silver brows lifted.
"Is that your Christina now? My but the lass is a sight for sea-weary
eyes!" He grinned in appreciation, while bowing formally in address.
"Miss Marks, 'tis a true pleasure. We're all indebted to you for caring
for Justin."

Justin
chuckled when Christina looked down and flushed. "She's very shy, Jacob.
She hardly speaks to others," he said, brushing his hand affectionately
through her hair again.

"Shyness
be fine in a woman, so long as it lifts beneath the covers." He smiled and
in the same breath he turned to the others. "Which of you ladies are going
to save your souls and come with us?"

"These
two." Justin pointed and then looked to Marianna and Katie. "How
about it?"

The
two women had the least to lose. Katie bit her lip uncertainly and looked
nervously at her friend. Marianna looked to Justin and he only nodded,
convincing the women not with words but with his very manner. Marianna nodded
to Katie, and suddenly all the women turned to packing.

"Just
what's necessary," Jacob warned, "and hurry it up now."

"Where's
your trunk, Christina?" Justin asked. Christina shook her head but dared
not glance up. "I'm... I'm not going."

"What?"
he asked, staring down at her and suddenly aware of what was running through
her head. "Jacob." He smiled slowly, amused. "I do believe my
looks have frightened her. Just what were you expecting, sweetheart? A slight
dandy of a gentleman in tailored clothes bearing polite social pretenses, a
bouquet of flowers for his lady?"

"Ah,
Christy." Jacob too chuckled. "You're the first lady I've seen who
found disfavor with Justin's looks, though personally I quite agree with your
sentiments. I don't care what the ladies say, I've never seen anythin' handsome
in him."

Christina
wished the sea would in fact swallow her up, so great was her embarrassment. A
pained embarrassment that could not hide the real pain of a shattered illusion.
All she knew was she refused to go with him, that she would rather die than to
do so.

Justin
ignored her fear and ordered the ladies' possessions placed in Christina's
trunk, silencing her protest by placing a hand gently over her lips.

"I'll
be damned if I'm going to let that idiot captain list you among the dead,"
he said, but added honestly, "though truthfully, I'd take you with me
without the threat of a storm."

She
looked up in panic, unable to believe that. But Jacob led the ladies out and
two men came in for the trunk. "No," she said to the two men,
"that's mine! All my things—"

Justin
merely nodded to his men and the trunk was carried away.

"I
don't want to go with you!"

"This
refusal might bother me had I given you a choice." She gasped and tried to
pull away but he stopped her. "No, sweetheart, you have no choice; you're
coming with me." And he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried
her through the door.

"No...
No! Please, please, Justin, put me down!"

"Not
a chance," he replied and when she cried out and struggled in earnest, he
merely chuckled and tossed her over his shoulder. He brought her quickly to the
deck. Rain fell in torrents from a darkening sky and within a minute they were
soaked. The wind was fierce too and the sea already churned beneath huge
fifteen-foot waves. Four of Justin's men held Captain Forester at gunpoint, forcing
the man's officers and crew to watch passively as Justin made his retreat.

With
one hand on the ladder rope and one arm keeping Christina securely to him,
Justin quickly shimmied down the side of the
Defiant,
and Christina
screamed, clinging tightly to his neck. With inexplicable grace and ease,
Justin dropped into the lifeboat. Her feet never touched the bottom, even as he
set her on a seat.

Each
of Justin's four men in turn dropped into the lifeboat and then they were off.
The lifeboat, as large as a fair-sized house, made slow progress between the
two ships, climbing over ten-foot swells, then sliding down. Waves occasionally
crested and collapsed inside the boat.

Jacob
moved quickly to secure what he called a floater over her, a stuffed jacket. He
hurriedly tied it around her waist and chest and he then pointed behind her.
She turned to confront what could not be imagined.

Darkness
devoured half the sky, black against gray. It looked like the opening to a
dragon's mouth, sheets of lightning like a lashing tongue and thunder its fury.
The monsoon.

Ten
men rowed. The women were placed protectively between them. Justin stood at the
stern shouting orders to his men, his tall frame seeming to defy gravity and
rules of balance, making him look once colossal and heroic.

Captain
Forester had already forgotten Justin.

His
voice was a weak cry in the angry wind as he stood on the quarterdeck immersed
in readying the
Defiant
for the fast-approaching storm. The captain would
never permit shots to be fired at the boat, considering the female hostages
there, but one man no longer considered orders or obedience or chivalry.

Carrington
slid his broken leg to the side, seeking a balance nearly impossible between
the motion of the ship, the gale winds, rain, and his injury. And only the
sheer force of his will could find it.

He
just wanted revenge. After all the monsoon spelled death as surely as
starvation and thirst. What did it matter? An expert marksman, he raised his
pistol and waited.