The Captive Vixen

by Farmer, Merry

  He kissed her again, then lunged toward the door and out into the rest of the ship.

  Letty pressed a hand to her stomach, indulging in one, brief moment of panic as the sounds of shouting, gunfire, and even the clash of swords sounded from the rest of the ship. Her hand tightened around the handle of the dagger and she struggled to take deep breaths.

  Gradually, her initial panic calmed and she set herself simple tasks, like finishing dressing, to keep her imagination from running away from her. Martin was strong. He’d survived a gunshot just that morning. He knew Dick and his men, which would give him an advantage in fighting them. And he had something far more precious than just a ship to fight for.

  Those thoughts braced her a bit, but they weren’t enough. She paced the cabin a few times before her eyes settled on her portion of The Secrets of Love. As soon as she saw the book, she ran toward it and threw open the pages, desperate for a distraction. Her gaze narrowed on a passage she’d already memorized.

  “Love and Courage are intertwined, for Love may be torn from us at any time. The only way to face the fear of losing our beloved is to fight for every moment we have with them and to give all we have to keeping our beloved safe.”

  “It is,” Letty said aloud, half battle-cry, half mournful wail.

  She shut the book, turning away from the table.

  “What am I doing here?” she asked, tightening her grip on her dagger. She needed to be by Martin’s side, fighting for him and keeping him from harm.

  With new determination, she strode toward the door. But before she reached it, the door burst open.

  Her flash of relief at the idea Martin had come back for her was instantly replaced by stark horror. It wasn’t Martin who barged into the room, it was Dick.

  “Thought I’d leave without you?” he said, a deadly look in his eyes. He rushed up to Letty, clamping an arm around her waist so suddenly and with such force that she dropped her dagger. “Think again, my lady.”

  Letty’s fear was so overwhelming that she lost all of her strength and started to swoon. The rough way Dick handled her and his sinister laugh reminded her far too much of Pigge. She’d been helpless to stop him from hurting her then, and her mind froze in horror as she realized she would be helpless to defend herself against Dick.

  But no, she could defend herself. She could fight for herself as well as for Martin. She wasn’t powerless.

  Her thoughts came too late. Dick took advantage of her momentary terror to scoop her over his shoulder and carry her out of Martin’s cabin.

  “Keep moving,” he called to someone Letty couldn’t see. “Clear the way.”

  “No! Put me down!” she shouted, pummeling his back as best she could.

  It was too late. He had her in an iron grip that made it impossible for her to effectively fight him. She made the mistake of lifting her head just as he passed through the doorway to the main deck as well. The back of her head hit the lintel hard, rendering her momentarily senseless. Pain and nausea swirled around her, and the sound of clashing and yelling on the deck blended into a hollow, distant ringing.

  She didn’t recover from the blow until she’d been jostled so much that she was afraid she would be sick. When, at last, the ringing began to subside into painful throbbing and the world around her came into focus once more as Dick threw her off his shoulder, she realized she wasn’t on The Growler anymore.

  Rather than setting her on her feet, Dick tossed her to the deck like a sack of potatoes. She landed hard on her backside and yelped in pain.

  “Cast off,” Dick ordered. “Full sail. We’ll take advantage of the wind and get away as quickly as possible.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” several men shouted in reply.

  Letty gripped her head with both hands, willing her world to stop spinning. The deck of The Vixen was as busy as she’d ever seen The Growler. She wasn’t the only lady that had been snatched either. Four other women sat wide-eyed and huddled together just a few feet away, looking stunned and frightened but unable to fight back.

  Fight back. A voice in her head that sounded a lot like the author of The Secrets of Love urged her on. Her head was still throbbing and her stomach threatened to rebel at any moment, but a new sort of energy surged through Letty. She had to fight back.

  As covertly as she could, she glanced around, assessing Dick’s crew and searching for the man himself. Dick had made his way up to the quarterdeck and was issuing orders to his men on the deck and in the ship’s rigging. It disturbed Letty to discover that a good many of Dick’s men were sailors from the merchant ship. Her mind rebelled at the idea that they could join their captors to fight against good men.

  She put that thought aside. There was no time to think about it now. She had to act.

  With as sudden a movement as she could, she pushed to her feet and dashed toward the side of the ship that still faced The Growler. The gap between the two ships was growing wider by the second, but she could still make out the faces of The Growler’s crew in the darkness.

  “Martin!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, clutching the railing. “Help! Martin! Save me!”

  At first, she couldn’t tell whether anyone aboard The Growler heard her, let alone knew who she was and what she was calling for. “Martin! Help!” she called again, cupping her hands around her mouth to make her voice carry.

  At last, a few figures near the edge of the ship turned to her, then began calling deeper into The Growler. Moments later, as the gap between the ships began to widen faster, Martin rushed to the railing.

  “Lettuce!” he shouted.

  “Martin, help!” Letty waved her arms furiously.

  She was taken completely by surprise when Dick clamped an arm around her from behind and lifted her off her feet.

  “She’s mine now,” he called out, adding a sinister laugh.

  “Lettuce!” Martin’s furious cry was far too distant for Letty’s liking. The night closed in around him with the swiftness of death, putting more and more distance between them.

  “I meant it,” Dick said, dragging her away from the railing kicking and screaming. “You’re mine now, and I intend to have you in every way.”

  “No, no!” Letty screamed and flailed, but his grip was too strong.

  He carted her back to the center of the main deck, throwing her over a huge coil of rope so hard the air was knocked from her lungs. Before she could get her bearings, he was tearing at the fastening of her breeches, tugging and jerking to get them down over her hips.

  The edges of Letty’s vision went black with panic as he worked. She was reminded too keenly of her wedding night and the way Pigge had forced himself on her, laughing the whole time and telling her to take it like the whore she was. The memories were so strong and the panic of the present moment so sharp that she almost lost her mind and her will to fight.

  It was only the sudden shout of, “Good God, man. What in hell are you doing?” in a refined accent that dragged her back to her senses.

  Dick backed away from her suddenly, and as Letty jerked straight she saw it was because none other than Lord Benedict Killian had grabbed hold of him and wrenched him away from her.

  “Stay away from me or you’ll get what’s coming to you,” Dick growled at the nobleman.

  Lord Killian gaped at him. “You said this was a rescue. You said you were returning the ship to us so that we could retrieve the ladies and continue on.”

  “I lied,” Dick growled, drawing a long knife from his belt.

  He lunged at Lord Killian, but the nobleman was fast enough to get out of the way.

  “Benedict!” one of the other merchant passengers called out, then threw a sword to Lord Killian.

  Lord Killian caught it and rounded on Dick. “You’ll rue the day you tried to lay a hand on a noblewoman,” he said with aristocratic bravado.

  Letty didn’t care how dramatic he sounded. He was defending her. Better still, he was distracting Dick. That gave her all the time she needed to
adjust her breeches and refasten them, and to search the area for a weapon of her own.

  “Is it true that noblemen bleed blue?” Dick said, stepping around Lord Killian menacingly, as though looking for a weak area to attack.

  “You’ll never find out,” Lord Killian said. He lunged toward Dick, sword pointed.

  All around the deck, similar battles broke out. The male passengers from the merchant ship that had been freed—presumably to help Dick’s pirates in their wicked endeavor—took up arms and fought back against their captors. Shouts of rage and betrayal echoed throughout The Vixen. The ladies who had been stolen from The Growler wept and screamed. Letty found herself wishing that Malvis were with her. Malvis would fight back without a doubt, and if she would, Letty could too.

  She found a pistol discarded on the deck near the coil of rope, but it had already been discharged. She snatched it up all the same, frantically looking for the materials she needed to reload it. The battles raged on around her, and she dodged swords, daggers, and gunfire as she searched. At last, she made it to a small trunk tucked under one of the ladders leading up to the quarterdeck that contained powder, shot, and patches. With shaking hands, she went to work, desperately trying to remember all the steps Martin had taught her to load the gun.

  She was just in the process of ramming the bullet down when a far greater boom than any pistol could make sounded. A shriek followed, then an enormous crack from above. A splash far off to the port ended the series of sounds just as another boom rent the air.

  “We’re under attack,” someone screamed from above. “They’re shooting at our rigging.”

  “The Growler is coming,” another voice hollered from the aft deck. “They’ve caught the wind and they’re making right for us.”

  Chapter 10

  “Forward!” Martin shouted, cutlass held aloft as though he were some figure from mythology. “Ram them if you have to. Prepare for boarding.”

  From the moment he’d heard Lettuce’s cry across the night-black sea, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let Dick sail away to whatever fate had in store for him. He’d been so busy fighting the mutineers that had freed themselves from the hold and forcing them back to The Vixen that he hadn’t seen Dick carry Lettuce and some of the other women off. It was only when the tide of the battle turned quickly and the mutineers fled to The Vixen and sailed off that he comprehended what had happened. That was when he gave the order to fire into the other ship’s rigging to stop it in the water.

  “Another volley, Captain?” Rayburn asked, rushing up to Martin’s side at the railing facing The Vixen.

  Martin squinted into the darkness, judging how long it would take for The Growler to catch up to the other ship. His heart pounded in fear and a voice in the back of his mind screamed in panic, seeing nothing but the loss of the beautiful life he’d been so certain would be his by sunrise. He was a captain, though, and even though his command was a mere pirate vessel, he had to be a leader.

  “No,” he said at last, dragging his eyes away from the other ship to assess the readiness of his men. They all stood at the ready on The Growler’s decks, grappling hooks and planks in their hands, weapons in their belts. Lady Malvis stood right in the thick of them, armed to the teeth and looking ready for blood. “They’ve given up fleeing.” He turned back to The Vixen. “Look. They’re spoiling for a fight.”

  He was right. Dick charged around the other ship’s quarterdeck, hollering orders to his crew to lower the sails and turn about. The men who had been under Martin’s command so recently lined up along The Vixen’s rail, shouting vows and curses, ready to do battle with their old mates. It was a sorry state of affairs for a man who valued life and comfort, who had become a pirate for the booty, not the blood. One way or another, it would all end before dawn broke over the eastern horizon.

  He held his breath as the ships drifted closer and closer together, thanking God that Dick was greedy enough not to damage either vessel, likely in the hopes he could take both prizes in the end. Martin searched for Lettuce, prayed she was safe. She’d disappeared behind the gathering mass of the enemy, but he couldn’t see whether she’d moved out of the way voluntarily or if she’d been forced. As long as Dick still issued his bloodthirsty orders from The Vixen’s quarterdeck, there was a chance Lettuce was safe.

  And then the moment came. With a crunch that set Martin’s teeth on edge, the two ships met, and men from both vessels threw hooks, set planks, and swung from the rigging. Ferocious roars sounded all around as the two crews charged each other. A burst of opening gunfire rent the air as pistols were discharged and then tossed back to those who had been charged with reloading.

  “This one is ready, my love,” Lord Ainsley shouted to Lady Malvis, throwing her a loaded pistol as she charged toward the side of the ship. He wore a powder horn around his neck, like a necklace to compliment his tattered gown, and a pouch of bullets hung from a belt cinching his waist.

  “Keep them coming, sweetheart,” she called back, making the endearment sound like its own war cry.

  Martin didn’t have time to stop and marvel at the odd pair or how perfectly they worked together, in spite of their bizarreness. He had to find Lettuce and rescue her before any harm came to her.

  With swift, light feet, he leapt to one of the planks connecting the two ships and ran across. The moment he landed on The Vixen’s deck, he was beset by the man he’d been certain shot him the day before. Lingering fury at that betrayal made it easy to fight with the man, and yet, he was loath to kill him outright. He was still responsible for the bastard, even if he was a traitor.

  The shooter didn’t seem to share the same sentiment. He yelled wordlessly at Martin, thrusting and slashing with his dagger. Martin held him off easily and wielded his cutlass with ruthless efficiency, cutting the man’s forearm and forcing him to drop his weapon and reel backwards. The blow was enough to keep the man out of the rest of the melee, so Martin moved on.

  “Lettuce!” he shouted, shoving his way through a pair of men locked in battle. “Lettuce!”

  “Martin!” He heard her answering call, but still couldn’t see where she was. All he could do was follow the sound of her voice deeper into the swarm of battle.

  At last, he caught a flash of her pale face in the light of the lamps that had been lit for the battle. She continued to search for him over the writhing hoard of fighting men. He dodged a blood-drenched dagger that had gone flying out of the hand of whoever had been using it, pushing on.

  “Stop right there!”

  Before he could reach Lettuce, Martin was faced with a wild-eyed nobleman from the merchant vessel—Lord Benedict Killian, whose father Dick had killed on the first day. The man held a sword as though he’d been trained to use it. Martin fell into a battle-ready crouch, his cutlass held in front of him, but he couldn’t decide whether to attack.

  “Get out of my way,” he said at last. “I’m rescuing Lettuce.”

  Lord Killian blinked. “No, I’m rescuing the ladies from our ship from you villainous pirates.”

  Martin eased up his stance. “Look around you, man,” he shouted over another volley of gunfire. “Who is the enemy?”

  Lord Killian’s shoulders dropped and he shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “I can’t tell anymore,” he said.

  Martin pivoted toward the quarterdeck, where Dick was fighting off Rayburn. He pointed his cutlass to the fight. “There’s your enemy,” he said. “Mutineers. I had no intention to attack you in the first place, let alone harm you now.”

  It was all the explanation he had time for, and it was woefully inaccurate. But by some miracle, Lord Killian studied Martin long and hard, then nodded and shifted until he stood by Martin’s side instead of opposing him.

  “I still can’t tell which are your men and which are his,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Martin shook his head and pushed forward toward the quarterdeck. “Capture Dick and the rest of them will give up.”

  Lord Killia
n nodded, and together the two of them stormed up the ladder to the quarterdeck.

  As soon as they reached the top of the ladder, Martin was nearly pushed back by Lady Malvis.

  “Stay out of my way,” she hollered, passing the ladder, Lord Ainsley in her wake, and rushing toward where Dick and Rayburn battled, pistol raised. She fired, but her bullet didn’t seem to hit anything. Lord Ainsley was quick to exchange her empty pistol for a full one.

  “I didn’t know she had it in her,” the nobleman panted as he and Martin rushed the deck.

  Martin would have replied, but at that moment he spied Lettuce mounting the quarterdeck from the ladder on the starboard side. She had a pistol as well, but it was the wideness of her eyes and the stark expression of fear she wore that arrested Martin. And yet, she continued forward.

  “Martin!” she shouted when she spotted him.

  In the midst of the battle, shouts and gunfire and the clang of steal blades all around them, Martin forgot everything to run to Lettuce. They met midway across the deck, Martin opened his arms, and Lettuce threw herself against him.

  “You’re safe,” he promised her, indulging in one, mad moment simply to hold her and reassure himself that she was whole and unharmed. “I’ll never let you go again.”

  “I know you—”

  Her reply was cut off by a shot and a cry of pain. A second later, another shot was fired, which was followed by a thump. All activity on the quarterdeck stopped, though the battle continued on the main deck.

  Martin and Lettuce turned together to see Dick lying on the deck in a pool of blood. Standing only a few feet away from him, pistol still smoking, was Lady Malvis. Her color was high and her eyes were wide with frenzy. Her chest heaved as she panted, then slowly broke into a laugh. Rayburn stood on one side of her and Lord Ainsley on the other, both staring at Dick’s dead body at Lady Malvis’s feet.

  “It serves him right,” she said, her voice slightly hysterical. “After all the women he hurt and all the chaos he caused, it served him right. He’ll never hurt me again.”