Historical Romance Boxed Set (15 page)

Once clean, Alexandra lingered, unwilling to get out until the water’s heat had completely dissipated—or she turned into a prune, which happened sooner than she would have liked. Rising, she felt the chill of the drafty cabin as she began to dry off.

No sooner had she wrapped the towel around herself than Nathaniel opened the door.

“I’m sorry. I thought I had given you ample time—” He stopped as his gaze traveled from the top of Alexandra’s wet head to her cleavage, over the round curve of her hips and down to her bare calves and feet. Instead of turning away with a mumbled apology as a gentleman surely would have, he stared at her with such hunger that she wondered if she might be his next meal.

Instinctively she raised her hands to shield her breasts from his view, then realized they were covered already.

“I—I—” Her words died at the passion in his eyes. Tearing her own gaze from Nathaniel’s face, she turned away, and when she looked back over her shoulder, he was gone.

That night Nathaniel came in late. Alexandra heard him strip in the dark and get into the cold bath and scrub his hair. Silently she rolled over in the bed to see if she could catch a glimpse of his muscular torso, but the moonlight filtering in through the porthole was too dim. She could only hear his movements and smell the soap he lathered over his body.

In her imagination, it was her fingers that moved over his skin, not his own. She felt every ripple of muscle, the thickness of his hair, the straightness of his back, the broadness of his shoulders…

Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? Dreaming of Nathaniel was madness. He was a criminal. She was his captive. Yet the moment he stepped from the bath, she pictured the water running off his wide chest and down over his long legs.

She knew when he finally dressed and got into his hammock. And she continued to hear every move he made for hours afterward.

* * *

At dawn, when the first rays of the sun streaked across the sky like long, purple fingers, Nathaniel was already on deck. He had left Anne sleeping, curled into a tight ball. She had stirred often in the night, and once had even whimpered. He knew because he hadn’t slept himself. He’d tossed and turned, unable to get the vision of her wrapped in that towel out of his mind, especially considering she was little more than an arm’s distance away. She was going to drive him mad if he didn’t get rid of her soon.

Charlie gave him a mug of tea. Nathaniel wrapped his hand around the warm cup, then called to his navigator to see how they were progressing on their return to London. Some of his crew moved sluggishly about the rigging, adjusting the sails and checking the rope as he took a sip of the hot brew.

“Ahoy, Captain,” John called. He had the early watch and sat on the fore-topgallant yard, looking out. “Vessel on the windward side.”

Nathaniel handed his unfinished tea back to Charlie. “Can you see the flag?”

Charlie took the cup as a toothless grin split his face. “You think that be the one?”

Nathaniel didn’t answer. He had expected to find his father’s ship closer to the Crimea, but perhaps it had been delayed. He began shouting orders, getting the crew ready just in case.

“The flag! Can you make out the flag?” Nathaniel prompted as John continued to squint through the glass without responding.

“Aye. She’s English all right.”

“And?”

Those crew members who had been lingering in their bunks now flooded the deck.

“‘Tis the Eastern Horizon.”

A chorus of approval broke from the men as Nathaniel sought out his first mate. Trenton stood on the quarterdeck, where he had been testing the wind and searching the skies for any sign of a storm.

“We’re in luck,” Trenton called, making his way toward Nathaniel. “If the weather holds. But Captain Montague was no pushover when we met him last. I wonder how he’ll react in a second go-round.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “You’d think that with as many ships as my father owns, we wouldn’t have to take the same one twice, at least not so soon. But Montague won’t put up much of a fight, not with Anne on board.”

“Do think your father realizes that we’ve taken her to sea with us?”

“Where else would we take her? Besides, doubt alone should be enough to forestall him, and if not, Montague understands the rules of the game. He knows we won’t harm his crew. Maybe he’ll be more cooperative this time.”

“I wouldn’t bet my life on it,” Trenton retorted.

Facing the black speck he now knew to be one of his father’s ships, Nathaniel shouted, “Full press sail. Chase her down. But be careful,” he added. “There’s no telling what new defense they might manage. We will come as no surprise to Montague.”

* * *

When the
Eastern Horizon
spotted the pirate ship, her captain turned her around and tried to run. It was not a wise decision, Nathaniel thought. She was so laden with cargo that she moved like a tugboat in the choppy water while his sleek, fast-cutting clipper fairly flew toward her. By the time the merchant brig was positioned for a fight, the
Vengeance
was little more than half a mile away.

Taking his own glass, Nathaniel climbed the mast. He was amazed to see almost forty men crawling about the deck of the
Horizon,
preparing shot for the ship’s four short carronades, a smaller and lighter version of regular cannons. “Take cover!” he barked. “They mean to fight.”

Seconds later the sound of cannon fire erupted, followed by the splash of shot plunging into the sea less than five feet off their bow. The
Vengeance
keeled slightly to leeward as it rode the resulting swell before answering with a burst of her own guns. Then both ships tried to position and reload for another round.

“Quickly, quickly,” Nathaniel prodded, sliding down to the deck. If they could get off a round before the
Horizon,
it might intimidate the brig’s crew, he thought. By no means did he want a prolonged fight.

“And… fire!” Nathaniel yelled the words only seconds before a second blast told him the
Horizon
had done the same. He braced for possible impact, knowing the small size of his ship was in his favor. He hoped it would be enough. No heavy cargo impaired the
Vengeance’s
movements, but Nathaniel was fighting four guns with only three—one long, thirty-two-pound swivel cannon amidships, and two brass guns.

“What’s happening?” Anne stumbled out onto the deck, struggling to keep her feet amid the violent rocking of the ship. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the
Eastern Horizon
and its guns, still smoking from its last volley. “They’re going to sink us!”

“Not if we get them first,” Garth grumbled from where he worked to clean a cannon muzzle of any remaining powder so he could reload.

“Go back to the cabin,” Nathaniel called, intercepting her before she could stray too far from the hatch. “It’s not safe up here.”

“Is it any safer below?”

Nathaniel could tell Anne was terrified. She glanced around as though in disbelief, but he had no time to calm her. “Go! Hurry!”

Another blast of shot sent the ship reeling, and Anne nearly fell back through the hatch. Only Nathaniel’s sure legs and quick reaction saved her. He reached out, holding her upright until she regained her balance. “Now go,” he insisted, “before you get hurt.”

Anne coughed on the acrid smoke that now concealed most of the deck, and turned back. To reassure himself of her safety, Nathaniel watched her go, wondering about the captain of the
Eastern Horizon.
The son of a passionate Frenchman and a cool English mother, Montague had fought better than expected the first time they had met. But he was proving more stubborn now, despite Anne’s presence.

What could possibly be so valuable that Greystone would risk her life to save it? Pride sometimes made a man do foolish things, but Nathaniel couldn’t fathom the duke firing upon his own daughter. For any reason. By all accounts, he doted on the offspring of his second marriage.

The same doubt that had flickered in Nathaniel’s mind since he had seen the calluses on Anne’s hands made him scowl. What if they had the wrong girl? What if Trenton was mistaken, the story Anne told them about being a needlewoman, true? Too many things didn’t make sense. The duke never responded to their offer to trade for Richard. Of course, his father had thought he had them regardless. But now one of Greystone’s ships fired upon them with seemingly no regard for Anne’s safety.

Fresh anger boiled within Nathaniel, making him more determined than ever to win the private war that raged between him and his father. If it was Anne with whom he’d shared his cabin these ten days past, his father was more despicable than Nathaniel had ever dreamed. And if it wasn’t, if Anne had somehow escaped unscathed, Nathaniel vowed that the
Eastern Horizon
would not be so lucky. He would take her for Richard.

Trenton approached, shaking his head. “They’re digging in, Captain. I think we can win the fight eventually, but we might end up sinking her in the process. How badly do you want this ship? It could get bloody.”

Staring at the
Horizon,
Nathaniel mulled over Trenton’s statement. He wanted the ship, more to discover his father’s purpose in sailing her than for any other reason. But he had no desire to kill innocent men or to sink a perfectly good brig.

“There’s no need to waste lives.” He squinted across the distance. “We’ll make as though we’re hit and pull away. Then we’ll follow at a safe distance and surprise Montague and his crew again before dark.”

Trenton whistled. “That kind of thinking is why you’re captain and I’m not.”

“Trenton?”

Nathaniel’s first mate turned back.

“How sure are you about Anne?”

Trenton shook his head, then spat. “If you would have asked me yesterday, I would have bet my life that we had our girl. I still think she could be none other. She looks like the woman I saw four years ago. And we all watched her go into Madame Fobart’s.”

“Still, I have a feeling—”

“Are you sure it’s not just wishful thinking?” Trenton cocked an eyebrow at his captain. “I’ve seen the way your gaze trails after her, and I don’t mind telling you that it’s got me a little nervous. She can be nothing but trouble for you, Nathaniel.”

“You’ve no need to warn me. I’m not some love-smitten boy, unfamiliar with the realities of life.”

Trenton stared at him for a moment. “Whatever you say,” he replied, and went to deliver the necessary orders.

* * *

Alexandra paced Nathaniel’s cabin, out of her mind with fear long after the explosions had ceased. The duke would stop at nothing to kill Nathaniel and his men. As pirates, their fate would not be undeserved. But what about her? Nathaniel assumed she brought them some kind of insurance she did not. And he was risking their lives based on that assumption. She had to convince him of the truth, for his own sake as well as hers.

Nathaniel’s step outside the cabin made Alexandra bite her lip. He was coming. Now was her chance. She rushed to the portal and flung the door wide, but it was not Nathaniel who approached. It was Rat.

“There’s the fair maiden,” he mocked, putting up a hand to block the door when she tried to shut it. “I guess yer father cares more for the money in ‘is pocket than ‘e does about protectin’ ye. Mayhap the cap’n will let us ‘ave a crack at ye now. Yer not worth much to ‘im anymore.” He forced his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

Alexandra backed away, stopping only when she bumped into Nathaniel’s desk. “He’s still my half brother and your captain,” she pointed out.

“‘E won’t mind if I ‘ave a little kiss.”

“He’ll not stand for you handling me like some common doxy.”

“I don’t see ‘im ‘ere to protect ye.” Rat bit off one long, jagged nail and spat it at the wall. “Besides, what can ‘e do after it’s all over? ‘E’s not goin’ to kill a man simply for sampling the sweetness of those virgin curves. Ye’ll be no worse for the wear.”

“Don’t come near me.” Alexandra’s heart raced in panic as dread filled her soul. The others were preoccupied with the ship they fought; she doubted anyone would hear her scream. And the cabin contained nothing she could use as a weapon. Nathaniel had seen to that the day they set sail.

Her eyes flicked to the door as her only hope. Perhaps she could make it into the passage before Rat set upon her.

“If yer father cares naught about ye, there’s no need to keep ye so safe anymore. Perhaps even the cap’n will take ‘is turn. Or is that where it lies? ‘As all yer seemin’ disdain been a cover for the two of ye keepin’ each other busy at night?”

The lustful gleam in Rat’s eyes nearly turned Alexandra’s stomach, and his words frightened her more than a little. She darted toward the door, feeling the air near her arm stir as Rat’s hand shot out to stop her.

He missed. She grasped the knob and started to turn it, then screamed as she felt his arms snake about her waist, pulling her back.

Alexandra twisted as they fell and used her nails to claw at Rat’s face, hoping to gouge his eyes or any other vulnerable part of his anatomy. But he kept his face turned away. She felt only the rough stubble of his beard beneath her hands. Still, a loud curse indicated a small victory as her nails raked his cheek.

“Ye little bitch,” he swore. “Ye think ye can stop me?”

He grunted as they rolled together. Alexandra kicked and flailed, but her blows only seemed to prolong the inevitable. Finally, panting with exertion, she lay immobile beneath the weight of Rat’s body while he undid his pants.

“Ye like it rough, eh?” he cackled, slapping Alexandra hard across the face.

Alexandra’s ears rang from the blow that left her face numb, but she revived to some degree and began to fight again, this time more desperately than before as Rat tried to wrench up her skirts.

Then the door swung open. Nathaniel filled the portal, a look of stunned surprise claiming his features right before rage descended and his fist sent Rat flying across the room.