by Connie Mason
Finding herself without visible means of support, Alexa sat down heavily on the narrow bunk, eyeing Adam warily as he straightened his clothing. “As pleasant as this has been, milady, you’ll have to wait until later for my … uh … attentions. I must hie myself back to your party so I won’t be connected with your disappearance. There is also the matter of a note to be delivered to your father. Until later. Lady Alexa.” Then he was gone, the harsh grating of the key turning in the lock assaulting her ears.
“Wait!” cried Alexa. “Don’t go! Don’t leave me here alone!” Her words echoed hollowly through the empty cabin.
Dejected, Alexa bit her lip until it throbbed, her misery so acute it was like a physical pain. But she refused to be defeated. Until she found out Adam’s purpose she had to endure. And if the chance for escape presented itself she must be prepared. Tears would solve nothing. Furthermore, she must fight the strange attraction she felt for her handsome abductor. It was an indisputable fact that Adam Foxworth was a man who would have his way.
Forcing herself to be calm, Alexa lay back on the bunk and gave in to her exhaustion as sleep claimed her. She had no idea that hours later a black-clad, masked stranger quietly opened the door and stared at her through hooded eyes.
The first rays of errant sunlight filtered through the dirty pane of the small, round porthole, stabbing Alexa in the eyes until she was forced to rouse herself. She groaned and stretched, wondering how her soft down mattress had become so lumpy all of a sudden. She turned, thinking to ring for her maid, and nearly fell off the narrow bunk. Her eyes opened wide and she stifled a scream, abruptly recalling everything that had happened the night before.
Rising on unsteady legs she straightened out her torn and rumpled ballgown, pinned up her hair the best she could and walked to the door, gingerly turning the knob. Of course it was still locked, she thought, chagrined. Thoroughly enraged, she began beating on the panel, regardless of the pain it caused her, and crying out loudly for attention. Her efforts were met with silence. Rubbing her bruised fists she gave up in disgust, returning to the bunk to wait impatiently for someone to come to her.
From the sounds of activity filtering through the bulkheads she knew she wasn’t alone on the ship. Somewhere above men were working. Did anyone besides the despicable Adam Foxworth know she was being held captive aboard this ship? she wondered bleakly as she got up and began pacing.
Suddenly a noise outside her door alerted her and she whirled, prepared to face her abductor. But when the panel opened a tall, red-haired man entered, smiling disarmingly. “I trust you slept well, milady,” Mac said, a hint of humor lurking at the corners of his wide mouth.
“Where is Lord Penwell?” Alexa asked, ignoring Mac’s greeting. “Have you come to release me?”
“I wish I could, milady,” Mac said, sobering. “But it’s not up to me. I owe Adam a favor and promised not to interfere.”
“But what he’s doing is wrong!” cried Alexa. “I’ve done him no harm. Please, let me go! He doesn’t have to know it was you who released me.” His soulful expression gave her a surge of hope. But it was short-lived.
“I’m sorry,” murmured Mac. “Adam assured me you wouldn’t be harmed. I’m to look after you until he can join us.”
“Where is he?”
“He went back to the party last night. When he is certain no one links him to your disappearance he will return to the ship. No longer than a day or two.”
“So I am your prisoner.”
“A guest, if you will.”
“Like hell!” shot back Alexa, thoroughly incensed. “I’m here against my will, carried away from my own home by force!”
“Is there some problem with our guest. Mac?” a raspy voice interjected.
Both Mac and Alexa swiveled to face the speaker. “No, Captain.” Mac replied, darting a swift glance at Alexa’s startled features.
Alexa could only stare open-mouthed at the tall, imposing man who filled the doorway with his brawny frame. It wasn’t just his dark garb and commanding air that startled her but the fact that his features were completely hidden from view by a mask that concealed his entire face but for his lips and chin. His hair was covered by a scarf worn pirate style and knotted at the nape. But even more shocking was the mask itself. Upon its dark surface was superimposed the features of a fox. Though she had never seen him his identity was obvious.
“You!” she breathed, trembling. “It’s not possible! You’re the Fox! How could you be in London harbor? The entire British navy is looking for you. How did you escape them?”
“Easy, milady,” rasped the Fox, his voice a thick whisper. “We fly the Union Jack atop our mast. A devious trick, I’ll admit, but one that works.”
“But … why am I aboard your ship? Where is Lord Penwell?” Warily Alexa looked from Mac to the Fox for an explanation.
It was Mac who answered. “Adam and I have been friends for many years. We traveled on the same ship to America. When war was declared with England I was recruited by Fox to serve aboard his privateer, The Gray Ghost. In time I became his first mate.
“While in London a few days ago on a secret mission I happened to meet Adam, who asked my help in enlisting Fox’s aid in a scheme that included you, milady.”
“Lord Penwell paid well,” continued Fox, taking up where Mac left off. “And his plans fit in with my own, so I agreed. When he returns we will sail under the noses of the British navy to a secret destination.”
Alexa was astounded. The man’s daring was legend but never did she expect to find the privateer berthed in London harbor. Evidently neither did the navy. “If it’s money you want,” Alexa offered bravely, “my father will pay well for my return. Far better than Lord Penwell.”
“I gave my word,” whispered the Fox. “Besides, I don’t deal with the enemy. My ship will carry you and Lord Penwell to your destination. Now, if you will excuse me, milady, I’ll leave Mac to see to your needs.” Such was his presence that when he vacated the small cabin he left a definite void.
“Your captain is a strange man,” Alexa mused, once he had disappeared from sight. “Why does he wear a mask? Is he so ugly he doesn’t want to be seen? Or horribly scarred?”
“The Fox deems it wise to keep his identity a secret. By so doing he can operate more effectively.”
“Bah!” scoffed Alexa. “Not only is he a pirate, but a spy!”
“Perhaps.” Mac shrugged, unconcerned.
“Does no one see his face?”
“I do. So do most of the crew. But we are all loyal and would never reveal his identity.”
After Mac left Alexa mulled over the first mate’s words. Evidently Fox was able to move about freely in society while remaining unidentified as the Fox, a renowned privateer, the scourge of the British navy. The man had no scruples. It was obvious she could expect no help from him. She must rely on her own resourcefulness if she wished to escape from Adam and the fate he had planned for her.
During the long day an array of palatable food was provided by Mac as well as water with which to bathe. Of Adam there was no sign. Nor had the Fox returned. When Mac picked up her supper tray that evening he bid her goodnight and locked the door behind him for the last time that day. Stripping to her brief shift Alexa climbed between the sheets and was soon sound asleep, her dreams wild and unsettled.
The grating of the key in the lock did not awaken her. Nor the nearly noiseless rasp of the well-oiled hinges as the door slid open. Rather it was an awareness of another presence other than her own in the airless room. Alexa’s eyes flew open to a darkness deeper than the depths of Hades. The moonless, starless night allowed not one glimmer of light through the porthole.
Icy fear twisted around her heart as the whisper of soft footsteps commanded her attention. Rising on one elbow she swallowed the lump in her throat and called out. “Mac, is that you?” Absolute silence. “Answer me, damn you, who is it? What do you want?” And then, “Adam?”
A raspy chuckle gave
Alexa her first clue as to the identity of her nighttime visitor. “Fox! What do you want? I know you’re there.”
A hand caressed her face and Alexa gasped, jerking reflexively. “Captain, what are you doing in my room? Get out!” she ordered, despite her rising terror.
“This ship is mine, I go where I will,” rasped Fox in his distinctive, hoarse whisper.
“I’ll scream.” Alexa threatened.
“Go ahead. No one will come.”
“Mac …”
“Has orders to remain in his cabin.”
“Adam, then. I’ll tell Adam!”
“Do you prefer Adam Foxworth to me?”
“I prefer neither of you,” insisted Alexa hotly. “I wish only to return home to my father.”
“One of us will have you, milady,” the Fox whispered. “Count on it. The choice is yours. Give over to me now or Lord Penwell later. Which will it be?”
“I told you, neither,” Alexa retorted, knowing full well that given his superior strength he could easily take what he wanted.
The mattress sank beneath his weight and Alexa knew a moment of panic as he reached for her and pulled her roughly, almost violently to him, holding her snugly. The touch of his lips on hers sent a shock wave through her entire body and her senses reeled as if short-circuited.
Gently he eased her down on the bunk as his lips slid from her mouth to caress and tantalize a breast one large hand had bared while the other explored her thighs and hips beneath her thin chemise. His touch was light and painfully teasing. Never had she been touched in such a manner before.
With a swiftness that left her breathless her shift was lifted over her head and off, leaving her nude and vulnerable to his exploration. The moment his lips touched her sensitive nipple she realized the Fox was not wearing his mask. Immediately her hands flew to his face, finding it surprisingly smooth and free of even the slightest blemish. His amusement at her action was evident in the low chuckle that rumbled through his breast.
“Are you so eager to know me, Alexa?” he rasped huskily.
“Yes … no!” she contradicted, confused. “I care nothing about you.”
“I burn to know you.” The stroking of his fingers sent pleasurable jolts through her as she fought his gentle seduction.
“Please, don’t do this to me,” Alexa begged, writhing beneath his lust-arousing exploration of her soft flesh. “I’m to be married in a few weeks.”
His hands stilled and he whispered throatily, “Are you a virgin? Has neither your fiancé nor Lord Penwell sampled your treasures?” His low voice sounded dubious.
“Of course I’m a virgin!” retorted Alexa indignantly. “I’ve been taught a girl’s virtue is her most prized possession.”
Mocking laughter met her ears. “So be it. Now that your fiancé is out of the running for the time being it remains between Lord Penwell and myself to experience the pleasure of claiming your virtue. I will give him a sporting chance, my lovely Alexa, choose between us.”
“Choose?” she scorned. “Choose between a pirate and an abductor? You’re mad!”
“Then I will choose for you,” he declared authoritatively as his hands moved gently down the length of her back and his body bent to partially cover hers.
Uttering a cry of dismay Alexa quickly slid from beneath him. This couldn’t be happening to her! she screamed in silent supplication. She had to stop him before it was too late. A delaying action was preferable to lying there and mutely submitting to Fox’s love-making.
“Wait! Stop!” she cried as she felt him part her thighs. “I prefer Adam! Yes, yes, I prefer Adam Foxworth to you!”
Abruptly the pressure lifted from her slim form as the Fox shifted to sit beside her. She had felt his excitement in their struggle and Alexa wondered if he was capable of exerting the control necessary to walk out the door and leave her untouched. Evidently he was for he arose from the bunk. Alexa could feel his eyes piercing her through the darkness.
“We are far from finished, milady,” came his husky whisper. “One day we will meet again and finish what we began. Until then, I bid you goodnight.”
Holding her breath, Alexa listened to his light footfall as he made his way to the door, and then paused. If only she could see his face, she thought. “You have no idea how I envy Adam Foxworth,” Fox rasped softly in parting.
Alexa collapsed against the mattress, fighting the overwhelming feeling of deprivation. What was wrong with her? First she was inexplicably drawn to Adam by a strange magnetism, and now to the pirate, Fox. In their own way both were powerful men, sensual, passionate. Both instilled in her an inner excitement that took all her strength to combat. Yet Charles’s kisses left her cold and the thought of his lovemaking filled her with dread. Was there some flaw in her character that caused her to welcome the caresses of rogues while resisting good men like Charles? she wondered dully.
No answer was forthcoming and Alexa finally fell asleep, the mysterious face of Fox and the magnetic gray eyes of Adam warring within her brain.
3
The ship was underway! From somewhere below came the creakings of chains and from above Alexa heard the distinct sound of sails flapping in the breeze. Not only that but the gentle swaying motion reaffirmed her belief that The Gray Ghost had slipped its moorings and left London harbor. Glancing out the grimy porthole Alexa recognized the banks of the Thames gliding by at a respectable pace.
Quickly pulling on her ruined ballgown Alexa raced to the door and was shocked to find it unlocked. She pulled it open and stepped into the dim passageway, heading unerringly toward the ladder leading to the deck above.
Alexa stepped onto the deck and was lost amid a whirlwind of activity. If she had once thought the ship was deserted she now knew her assumption to be incorrect. Men of all sizes and descriptions were doing all the things it took to sail a ship the size of The Gray Ghost. Glancing upwards she grimaced ruefully at the Union Jack flying boldly from her mast. Evidently the crew had their orders for not one of them glanced her way.
“Have you had breakfast, milady?”
Alexa whirled about to face a smiling Mac, brilliant sunlight setting his red hair and beard ablaze. “N-no.” she stammered, startled.
“Come, I’ll escort you to the galley so cook can prepare something for you.” He gallantly offered her his arm.
“You mean I am no longer confined to my cabin?”
“It is no longer necessary, Lady Alexa.” Mac smiled. “As you can see we left London on the morning’s tide.”
“Then Adam must be aboard,” Alexa mused aloud. Mac eyed her strangely but only nodded.
“When did he return?”
“At dawn.”
“Where is he now?”
“Still sleeping. I’m certain you’ll see him later.”
Alexa sniffed disdainfully. “Who cares,” she declared hotly. “Both Adam and your captain are men of questionable morals.”
“Fox? What do you know of him except that he’s a privateer?”
“Believe me I know all I want to know,” replied Alexa cryptically.
Before Mac could question her further they had reached the galley and he seated her at a table where the officers took their meals. Then he left her to her excellent breakfast prepared by a beaming elderly cook named Hayes.
Afterwards Alexa roamed the deck, enjoying the fresh salt air after a long day and night confined to her tiny cabin. Standing at the rail, her dress plastered against her long legs and high breasts, ebony locks blowing freely in the breeze. Alexa breathed deeply. She had always longed for a sea voyage but certainly not under these circumstances.
As she turned to continue her promenade she caught sight of Fox standing on the bridge, legs spread in typical seaman stance, looking more imposing than she remembered. His face was concealed by the inevitable mask but his powerful form, balanced on the balls of his feet had the appearance of a sleek tiger, coiled and ready to spring. His massive muscles rippling under his black silk shirt op
en at the neck quickened her pulse and she recalled vividly the feel of his strong hands on her body.
Sensing her silent appraisal Fox jauntily cocked his head to one side then nodded mockingly. Flushing angrily, Alexa stiffened, haughtily tossing her mass of windblown black curls. A low mirthful rumble reached her ears and she abruptly turned and marched back to her cabin.
Later that afternoon Adam visited her cabin. Not bothering to knock he barged in, his profile strong and rigid, his icy eyes hooded. “I see you’ve fared well in my absence.” His voice was courteous but patronizing. “Have my friends seen to your needs, milady?”
“Well enough,” snapped Alexa. For some unknown reason his commanding presence irked her as much as that of the pirate captain. “You choose strange friends, Adam,” she accused. “A rogue privateer and his first mate who take your money without a qualm. But then, you are not much better despite your title.”
Adam laughed raucously, evidently pleased by her show of spirit. “The lady has spunk. Be careful, milady, you may bare your claws once too often with me. You are bound to pay the consequences.”
“What are the consequences, Adam?” Alexa asked quietly. “Why have you taken me from my home and what do you plan for me? You owe me an explanation.”
After a poignant pause, Adam answered, a look of inflexible purpose on his face. “It’s no more than right that you should know. Your father and mother caused a man’s death fifteen years ago. A senseless death that could have been avoided, the problem settled less harshly. One man was an excellent shot, the other had never held a pistol in his hand much less fired one. The outcome was inevitable.”
Alexa sucked in her breath and involuntarily stepped backwards, the hatred in Adam’s cold eyes frightening.
“As you might have guessed, the expert shot was your father; the man he killed was mine. And your mother, whore that she is, was the cause of it all.”
“No!” screamed Alexa, striking out at him blindly. “How dare you call my mother a whore! How can you speak so of the dead?”