A small part of him wanted to believe her. When Cain had wanted to stand and fight, Richard wanted to run. When it became necessary to eliminate a man or two, Richard had suddenly vanished out of sight. Had Richard sailed under someone else, his cowardice would have seen him strung from the yardarms. Yet what India wished Cain to believe defied even Richard’s gutlessness. Richard wouldn’t take the risk his pretty little princess might cry off the engagement and be swept away by someone else.
Cain puffed out a hard, frustrated breath. He rubbed at a scar on the back of his hand as he considered what to say. But before he could decide on a response, she rushed to words.
“Betrayed you how? You’re a pirate who stole from him. All Richard did was deny your outlandish request for obtaining aid with a pardon. You can hardly fault him for that—no man would. I advised him denying you wouldn’t be wise and told him that Teddy would say the same. After all, it was just a few thousand pounds worth of goods, not a sum we couldn’t do without.”
His head snapped up like she’d cracked a whip. “What did you say? You told him Teddy would advise the same?”
India answered with an enthusiastic nod. “Indeed. Teddy sails for Grey and Cathain. He handles most of the shipments himself. He would be familiar with your…methods. Teddy wouldn’t be fool enough to raise a ruckus over a handful of goods you stole, that is easily recovered from Grey and Cathain’s vast storehouses.”
Dumbfounded, Cain could only blink. They’d never met—how could she possibly know what he’d have told Richard if, in fact, the story she presented were true? He searched for words. Unable to develop anything intelligent, he repeated, “Teddy.”
“Yes, Teddy. Richard spoke of him quite fondly. I should like to meet him. He seems quite the fascinating seaman. I’ve heard so many stories I feel like I know him.”
A slow pleasurable burn spread through Cain. He, fascinating? He had been called many things, but fascinating wasn’t one. Heartless and devil’s spawn seemed to be the favorite accounts. Indeed, not once had fascinating made the list. It held a most pleasurable ring. Almost a touch of decency as well. It was certainly a great deal better than murderer.
He caught himself and pursed his lips. By the devil, she couldn’t expect him to believe she held no knowledge about his identity. Every post in three countries had published the news of his arrest, his association with Grey and Cathain, and his subsequent escape. Her words could only be trickery. An attempt to gain his favor, and his sympathy, through false innocence.
It had almost worked. She’d stroked his ego with the insinuation she respected him, and he’d almost bought into her tale. One too many experiences on the receiving side of a forked tongue, however, had eliminated his naivety a long time ago. It was time to use her fear to his advantage and remind her of her place.
He closed the distance between them and picked up one slender hand. Trailing his finger down the sensitive inside of her wrist, he held her gaze. “Such delicate skin. Smooth. Fragile. It would be a shame to see it cut by ropes. Must I bind you, Miss Prescott, to learn your secrets?”
On a soft gasp, she tugged at her hand.
The sound, combined with her wide eyes, tightened a fist around his lungs. Ignoring the painful clench, he cupped the side of her face with his other hand and ran his thumb along the side of her neck. The urge to press his mouth to the bounding vein there threatened to override his purpose.
Determined to hold onto his initial course of intimidating her, Cain choked back the unexpected rise of desire. He kept his voice low to mask the roughened quality of his throat. “And your throat. How easily it would bleed beneath the press of a knife.”
“Stop,” she whispered as she pulled on her hand again.
Indeed. Stop he must. He was far too close to her and the light scent of honeysuckle in her hair tormented in ways he couldn’t explain.
Cain flung her hand into her lap and stepped away. “Perhaps a cat-o-nine would suit you better. It wouldn’t take much to turn your back to shreds.” He paused for effect, stole a deep breath to temper the unexplainable fire in his blood, then narrowed his eyes in warning. “One of which, I assure you, will happen if you continue with this charade. We both know I am Teddy. Do not mistake me for a fool again.”
India’s brows furrowed, and she opened her mouth to speak. Denying her opportunity, he swiftly exited. The slam of the door echoed down the narrow hall. Before it died into silence, Cain turned the lock. He pressed his forehead to the wall and swallowed down a groan. Too true, her skin was soft. Her wrist so small he could fit two of them in his hold. His palm still tingled where he’d touched her warm flesh, and he rubbed it against his trousers, anxious to be free of the unsettling sensation.
No wonder Richard had fallen so completely for the little bird. A man could lose himself in those turquoise eyes. They had a way of making a man forget his purpose. An effect Cain could ill afford.
****
India collapsed into her chair. Her pulse raced from the close encounter with Cain, and she struggled to control the erratic nature of her thoughts. Teddy? What nonsense did Cain speak? Two more polar opposites she couldn’t imagine. Everything Richard said about his business partner painted Teddy as a decent man. A man who knew the sea like no other, but possessed the finer qualities of gentility. Cain, on the other hand, was brash and crude. He didn’t know the first thing about propriety and carried himself with the arrogance of a thief who believed himself undefeatable. The fact he’d stolen her was evidence enough. Teddy would know kidnapping her would be a foolhardy mistake. They couldn’t possibly be the same man.
She dropped her head into her hands and let out a frustrated whimper. Between the boat’s constant motion and Cain’s confounding threats, she didn’t know which was worse. One thing was certain, she must make Cain understand that kidnapping her would accomplish nothing beyond a speedy hanging. Whatever he might think, she knew nothing about the giant of Prescott Shipping. Though politics forced her father to establish the smaller North Atlantic Freight fleet in her name, he despised her involvement in shipping. He claimed it was improper for a woman to occupy her mind with business. Dismissed her abilities, denounced her math, and when she tried to draw him into conversation, he sent her out of the room with a veritable pat on the head. He’d even gone so far as to demand she hire a man to handle her affairs, turning all her hard work into something she couldn’t even celebrate.
Sadly, her intended had taken much the same approach. While he vowed to let her retain ownership of North Atlantic Freight, Richard gave her ideas only the barest scraps of his attention. He certainly didn’t consult her with Grey and Cathain or include her in his visions of the merger’s outcome. Which infuriated her to no end, but also genuinely left her unable to tell Cain anything.
Teddy knew more about the two companies than she did. He’d seen their financial ledgers, for heaven’s sake.
She let out a heavy sigh. Why did men have to be so absolutely dense? Cain was no better than the lot of them. Perhaps he was even a little worse—she’d never been accused of deceit before. Then again, until tonight, the only deceit she engaged in was the same sort every other lady of status employed. Outside of the privacy of her home, she smiled when she wished to grimace, spoke kind words when she wished to scold. Manners she’d been taught, niceties she assumed. Nothing that would shock or offend, not even a retort that might make a person’s pulse jump.
The way hers had nearly leapt out of her skin when Cain touched her hand. The way it was still bounding now.
Frowning, she fought back a shiver. She ought to be terrified. Indeed, she felt a degree of intimidation in Cain’s presence, but terror had yet to register. If anything, he intrigued her. And down deep inside, India knew she had no business being curious about such a deadly man. If for no other reason, curiosity would lead to scandal, and she was too well groomed to deliberately jeopardize her father’s good name. A name which Cain had already ruined.
Heaven’s mer
cy, she must convince Cain of her uselessness and find a way off this ship. While Richard would never forego his chance at her father’s money, no polite family would receive him, if Cain didn’t turn her loose. Not that she particularly cared whether they were embraced by society. But her father did, and though she barely tolerated Richard, she loved her father. She didn’t wish to cause him embarrassment.
As the boat pitched again, India gave into a low moan. The fresh air had helped soothe her churning stomach, but her legs were too woozy to hold herself up, let alone make the trek across the cabin to open the windows once more. Thankfully, she’d held herself together through Cain’s interrogation. She didn’t dare let him know she was ill. The brute would probably toss her overboard to spare the health of his crew.
Huddling deeper into her blanket, she swallowed down the bitter taste of bile and willed her stomach to behave. She couldn’t think while it was turning circles. And more than anything, she needed to put her thoughts in line.
Being third cousins once removed from King George and distantly related to the late Louis, King of France, had its advantages. Right about now, her father would find her bedroom empty and contact the authorities. With his power and influence, every available ship under His Majesty’s employ would be on the ocean searching for her. Spreading the word to the sister ships they encountered. William Prescott might play at merchanting to satisfy his soul’s lark, but when it came to his daughter, he would spare no sacrifice.
Which meant freedom lurked around the corner. Cain might succeed in outrunning one, two, even three warships. But his luck would run out. When it did, she’d be free of all of this. She’d deal with the matter of her reputation then. Keeping herself, and Richard, alive until that day took priority.
She massaged her temples with her fingertips. If indeed he wasn’t Teddy, why had he shown such interest when she mentioned his name?
Fleeting panic brought her head out of her hands and soft gasp to her lips. Oh, dear Lord, had she doomed Teddy to the same fate Cain planned for Richard?
India shook her head. No. She couldn’t have. If Cain wanted Teddy, he’d have demanded she reveal his location as well. Or he could well be…
She refused to consider the thought further. Cain and Teddy were as different as night and day. Asking her to believe Richard’s partner had disguised himself so completely was like asking her to believe her mother still lived. Cain’s interest in Theodore Cathain stemmed from something else. She would be wise to discover what that something was.
India dropped her head onto the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She gritted her teeth against the tossing of the ship and forced her mind into silence.
To her horror, Cain rose behind her eyelids.
Only, where he wore loose trousers and a seaman’s shirt moments before, in her vision he dressed in the stylish suit she’d imagined Teddy in, a dozen times or more. Standing over her as he had, he didn’t glower. He cupped the side of her face. His thumb caressed the length of her neck and tickled the fine hairs behind her ear. His eyes held hers, sharp and unsettling. Full of words she couldn’t understand, but some unexplainable part of her soul recognized. And on those sensual lips, the hint of a genuine smile danced. As if he found her pleasing. As if he desired her.
She snapped upright. On a violent shake of her head, she whispered, “He’s not Teddy.”
351
Bound By Decency
3
As Cain stepped through the door to the main deck, a foul-breathed sailor skidded to an abrupt halt. He grinned, though he lacked the teeth to make it complete. “Cap’n! I was on me way tae fetch ye. Trouble be fast approachin’ on larboard.”
Every muscle in Cain’s body tensed at the veiled excitement in the seasoned sailor’s voice. He stepped the rest of the way outside, brows drawn tight as he looked over the rail. At the sight of a warship not more than five hundred yards away, he clenched a fist.
“Damn me,” he muttered. He grabbed onto the bowline, swung himself around the mizzenmast, and rushed up the short stairs to the quarterdeck where Drake stood at the rail, a brass spyglass lifted to his eye.
“You’re just in time for the fun, Cain. Seems His Majesty’s finest couldn’t resist a little bit o’ sportin’ at first light.”
Cain pulled the glass from Drake’s hand and lifted it to his eyes, though he didn’t need to look. The flapping Union Jacks off the main mast told him everything. Out of habit, he surveyed the hull, counting gun ports. Twenty coal black muzzles stared him in the face.
He lowered the glass and pulled in a deep breath. His mind worked quickly, calculating odds, debating whether to stand and fight or whether a speedy disappearance would be in their best interests. It made no sense for a single warship to draw so close. The Kraken outgunned her by twenty. Doubled her standard crew. Why would the Royal Navy foolishly enter such skewed stakes? Better yet, how had she found them? When he’d left the decks earlier, he’d seen only the single distant light.
“Shall I give the call to guns?” Drake’s question held the anxiety of a man sporting for a fight. “She’s easy pickin’s all by herself.”
With a slow shake of his head, Cain squelched Drake’s enthusiasm. “Let’s see what she’s about. She may pose no threat.”
Drake’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He recovered with a double blink. “Your mind is full of cotton, Cain. She’s right there for the takin’. We fire on her bow and bring her to her knees, I say.”
Exasperation rammed Cain like a stone fist. Though Drake’s skills at sea were exceptional and his argument well-suited to the life they had assumed, his logic held an error they could ill-afford to make. Cain thrust the glass back into his quartermaster’s hands. “Have you forgotten the cargo in my cabin? It’s not her death I seek. As certain as that warship sails in range, another isn’t far behind.” He looked once more to the approaching Navy ship. “We stand and wait. Maintain our course. She cannot possibly recognize us. Let us see what she’s about.”
“You’re cursed with this decency,” Drake muttered. He braced his hands on the rail and stared down at the sea. “What happened to Cain, the scoundrel who knew nothing but the fight?”
Cain didn’t bother with a reply. The man Drake referred to was stuck somewhere between Teddy, who had led a quiet merchant’s life, and a life of freedom Cain had once revered, but now despised.
The warship coasted another fifty yards closer. The waters between them crested and sloshed against The Kraken’s hull. A hearty bellow floated across the narrow expanse. “Boat, ahoy!”
Curling his hands into the rail, Cain looked to Drake. In the silence that passed between them, they shared the combined knowledge of more than twenty years at sea. Answering the call would doom them. They must commit to fight or turn their sails to the wind. Cain knew what Drake wished. What the men craved. Beneath the warship’s decks, they’d find enough supplies to keep them aloft for several more weeks. Coin aplenty, depending on how recently the Navy had set ashore.
Yet he didn’t trust the warship’s solitary presence. With word of his escape so fresh, several full fleets sailed in search. Too likely, it remained she had a sister somewhere near. One who would make her appearance on the echo of the first cannon blast.
“Boat, ahoy, I say! In the name of the King present yourself!” the warship demanded again.
Cain whirled toward the helmsman on the poop deck above. “Turn her west, hard to the rudder, now.” He grabbed an overhead line and jumped down to the main deck. “Hands to the riggings, make haste! Clear the braces, clew up the foresail, close-haul that spanker!”
At once, the crew flew into action. Amidst a chorus of protests, they hauled on lines, repeating his commands down the decks to the men near the bow. Cain stood amidst them, throwing his own back into the chore of bringing the boat hard to starboard. As he heaved on the rigging, and the bow began to ease around, he shouted once more, “Haul on every scrap of canvas—we’re changing course!”
; Drake joined the chaos, climbing down amidst the men. The glower he sent Cain made his disagreement known, but even he wouldn’t dare protest in front of the entire company. They would argue later, when no one could overhear the quartermaster take to task the captain.
The sails filled, rippled hard with the catch of wind. Behind them, the slower vessel turned to follow. Cain encouraged his men with another hearty bellow, and as The Kraken settled into her new path, he gestured to the bosun. “Stuart, mind your paces. Tell Reggie to prepare the stern chaser.”
The very last guns on the end of the ship, he would fire if necessary. A strike across the warship’s jib would slow her even further. But the noise would alert all nearby. He would make the call only as a last resort.
Anxiety constricted his chest. Never before had he run from a fight. In years past, he would have struck his colors in answer to the hail. Before a second call could come, the cannons would have rained.
Then again, never before had he carried human cargo worth a damn. While India was still Cain’s captive, she was also a woman. He could not bring himself to risk her life. He’d make this up to the men. Find a target they could easily overtake. Once he was free of India Prescott.
A cannon thundered. Near The Kraken’s stern, a splash pocked the decks. Cain vaulted onto the rigging. Hand over fist, he dragged himself to the yardarm above the decks to obtain a better view of their positioning. The warship lagged severely, now nearly six hundred yards away. A slow smile spread across Cain’s face, and he nodded to himself. “More sails, and with a will!” He looked back to the helmsman. “Steady as she goes, King.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” King returned with a wide grin.
Satisfied the Navy ship no longer posed a threat, Cain climbed down the net of braided rope. He surveyed the crew, insuring no man slacked in duty. His gaze met Drake’s dark glower. Cain drew in a deep breath. Once, he would have been equally as furious. Only cowards turned tail and ran.
Bound by Decency Page 3