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Mystery in the Moonlight

Page 7

by Lynn Patrick


  Disturbed by his nearness, Caitlin snapped, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t think of offering myself as dinner to your nasty sharks.”

  Bryce’s expression lightened as he leaned toward her, steadying himself by flattening a hand against the cabin’s wall behind her. “They’re not my sharks. And they’re not particularly nasty. Just hungry, like all animals.”

  Caitlin felt suffocated by his nearness, ashamed that she was still attracted to the scoundrel. And what did he think he was doing, anyway? she wondered, indignant that Bryce obviously was turning his charms on her. She pushed by him, trying to ignore the dizziness that swept through her at the slightest contact with him.

  “Exactly what are your plans for me?”

  “Until your lover ransoms you, or until you decide to cooperate, I plan on putting you to work.” Caitlin was sure that her horrified expression fueled Bryce’s hearty laughter. “Surely you have no objections to some honest work.”

  “Work?” Caitlin asked, deciding to leave the “honest” part for later. “I don’t know anything about boats.”

  “Ship. We took you off a boat, but this is a ship.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Everyone hauls his or her own weight, one way or another. There are quite a few things you can learn to do on a ship with minimal training.”

  She ignored his amused tone and sat back down on the bunk to stop the dizziness she was still feeling. Did the man affect her that strongly?

  Focusing on Bryce with difficulty, Caitlin said, “You’re holding me captive and you think you’re going to convince me to work for you? You’d better think again.”

  “You’ll work when you’re hungry. And don’t worry,” Bryce told her, his voice low as he began unbuttoning his black shirt. “I’ll be happy to teach you whatever you need to know.”

  Caitlin watched his long fingers quickly strip him of the garment, revealing curly chest hair. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Getting ready for bed,” he replied so casually, she could only raise her gaze and stare at him. “My watch starts in two and a half hours. I don’t have much time.”

  “Time?” she croaked. “For what?”

  “Why, sleep, of course, unless you’re anxious to begin your new duties immediately,” he said, pulling off a boot. “That’s what I like. An enthusiastic hand.”

  She’d like to give him a hand! Caitlin thought, making a fist. And he wouldn’t like how or where she’d put it, either. “And just where do you propose to sleep?”

  Bryce dropped his pants, and Caitlin popped up out of the bunk when he said, “Right next to you. There’s only one bunk, as I’m sure you’ve discerned. But, being a gentleman, I’m willing to share.”

  “If you were any kind of gentleman, you’d sleep on the floor.”

  “I don’t believe in taking anything to the extreme.”

  “Well, I do!”

  Avoiding looking at Bryce—she was sure he was about to strip the skimpy briefs from his hips!—Caitlin grabbed a blanket and pillow, off his bunk before he could protest. Looking around the small cabin, she decided she could make do with a large old trunk that was pushed up against one wall.

  Once on it, however, she realized her mistake. Not only was it uncomfortable with lumps and bumps sticking into her, but it was narrow too. With every pitch of the ship she chanced rolling off it. Caitlin was about to choose another spot for the night—the floor, if necessary—when Bryce changed her mind for her.

  He said sleepily, “If you’re sensible, you’ll sleep right here next to me on this soft, comfortable, clean bunk.” He yawned widely. “But I presume you’re not into being sensible?” When she didn’t answer, Bryce yawned again and turned on his side. “Have a good night’s sleep, then.”

  “Don’t worry, I will, Captain!” Caitlin declared, trying in vain to find a comfortable position.

  Closing her eyes, she convinced herself to relax, only to catch herself from falling off the trunk with the next roll of the ship. Eyes open as she tried to maneuver herself into a more stable position, Caitlin glared at the bunk, wishing all kinds of disasters on its occupant.

  Chapter Five

  “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, give us a pack of wild women and we’ll all have fun…”

  Eyes opening slowly at the muffled but intrusive sound of the raspy baritone, Caitlin tried to focus on her strange surroundings. The serenade continued.

  “The sharks all dance while I play my drum…”

  Who was singing? And where on earth was she? The platform bunk on which she lay fitted neatly against one wood-paneled side of a compact room whose walls curved gently inward near the ceiling. A large table and several chairs stood opposite the bed. Above the table a row of narrow ship’s windows admitted light from the sunny day outside.

  Ship? Suddenly she remembered. She was being held prisoner…on a pirate ship!

  The details of the preceding night flooded back to her, and Caitlin felt her heart begin to pound. After Bryce had secured her in his cabin, he’d slept for a while, then left for his watch. Hoping it was safe to do so, Caitlin had moved from her uncomfortable position on the trunk into the pirate captain’s bed. But when was he coming back? It was full daylight now. Trying to extricate herself from tangled blankets, Caitlin moved jerkily, her elbow colliding with a warm, furry lump.

  “Meow!” the lump complained vociferously, leaping away into the shadows.

  At the same time the cabin’s outer door flew open to reveal a startling apparition. An old man stood there, his sparse white hair seeming to stand on end, his muscular arms covered with garish tattoos, and his grizzled beard intricately braided with tiny, sparkling beads. He stared at Caitlin as if she were the strange-looking one.

  “Hey, and what’re you doing in here?” he asked with the same gruff tone he’d been using for his singing. “Have you gone and tangled with Calico Jack, then? I warn you, he’s a tough mate to cross, almost as bad as Blackbeard.”

  “Meow!”

  The loud yowl made Caitlin jump. Huddling in the blankets, she turned from the tattooed stranger to confront slanted green eyes glowing near the foot of the bed—green eyes that certainly didn’t belong to Bryce Winslow. Caitlin and the large calico cat stared at each other.

  “Heh-heh. Like old Jack’s fancy hat?” the white-haired man asked. “He always wears one with two ears. Likes bright-colored jackets with tails too.”

  Jackets? Hat? On an animal? Was this elderly guy crazy? When Caitlin moved her feet, the cat gave one last complaint, then jumped to the floor and scurried away.

  “That’s it, go and get them rats, Jack. Round ’em up and I’ll boil ’em in a pan. Or maybe you’d rather have them fried. Just tell me after you catch them. Everybody has to do their job on this ship. Which reminds me,” the old man said, drawing himself up proudly. “I’m Low Tide Lars, the Sea Devil’s sailmaker and cook. You’re to come down to the galley with me. We’ve got fish to clean and beans to cook, maybe some serious rhyming and singing to do. Let’s see…whales, snails, bails, trails, sails…” Chanting and smiling, Lars did a little shuffling dance. “Get up, young lady, get up! There’s no time to waste laying about all day. The captain says you’re to work for your living.”

  “Am I going to be allowed to live, then?” Intending to sound sarcastic, Caitlin was shocked when her voice came out in a pitiful whisper. Coughing, she tried to clear her throat.

  “Oh, the captain never kills women until he makes full use of them.” The old man chuckled. Then, perhaps noting the look of fear that crossed Caitlin’s face, he sobered and said gently, “To tell the truth, the captain’s not much for killing women at all.”

  Was this man actually capable of compassion? Caitlin wondered. It was hard to tell; he seemed a little balmy. Feeling braver, she told Lars, “I suppose Captain Winslow prefers to make women wish they were dead.”

  “Well, he’s broken a few hearts, if that’s what you mean.”

  Not knowing what
to say to that remark, Caitlin tried to rise from the bunk. Her body protested the movement, and every joint and muscle seemed to be sore or aching. Smoothing down her torn and rumpled dress, she limped toward the small bathroom, or head, that opened off one side of the cabin.

  Lars made no protest at her uncharted stop. He’d turned his back politely while she was getting out of bed. She heard him singing nonsense verses about mermaids and eels as she attempted to tidy herself.

  After washing her face and trying to untangle her long hair with a brush she’d found on a shelf, Caitlin felt a little better. Even so, she was appalled by the ragged-looking young woman who gazed back at her from the room’s small mirror. Dark semicircles underscored her huge eyes; numerous fine red scratches decorated much of her exposed skin; and her formerly pristine white sundress hung by one narrow strap from her shoulders. She looked like a half-dead zombie.

  It wasn’t that she wanted to fix herself up for her present, company’s sake, Caitlin hastily assured herself. It was simply that she thought she’d feel more positive if she cleaned herself up. And she desperately needed to feel positive.

  Although she intended to try to escape when she got the chance, it would be best to let her captors think she was going along with them. She’d try to be agreeable and do the work they required of her. After all, she needed to eat. Throwing back her shoulders courageously, she entered the captain’s room again, to meet Lars’s curious gaze. He blinked and looked away, all the while humming to himself. Though he appeared relatively innocuous, could this old man mean to harm her too?

  “Let’s go,” Caitlin told Lars bravely, noticing the multiple gold chains he wore around his weathered neck and the row of tiny charms dangling from his left ear. Had the jewelry been the cook’s share of bounty from pillaged ships?

  “All right, little lady. The galley’s this way. You’ll probably want some grub to start with.” The old man chuckled as he led the way with his halting, bowlegged stride, then began to sing, “Rum and cornflakes, gin and beans…”

  Hoping that menu wouldn’t comprise her breakfast, Caitlin followed Lars out into sunlight so bright that it made her squint. The outer deck was firm and solid beneath her feet, the ship obviously standing still. When and why had they stopped sailing? Where were they?

  Glancing around, not noticing anyone else, she opened her eyes wide when she saw the rise of a hill in the near distance. They were anchored off land! Hope rising, she stopped near the ship’s rail. Should she jump into the sea and swim for it? But then she realized that the island was small, with barren beaches. It was obviously uninhabited.

  “Come along now,” Lars admonished kindly. “It’s late. You’ll have to eat fast so we can set about fixing the noonday meal and swabbing the galley floor.” He motioned for her to follow him down the narrow stairway into the ship’s kitchen area. Turning backward, she started to descend when she felt strong hands encircle her waist.

  “Well, if it isn’t the soiled little dove. Did you sleep well, Caitlin O’Connor…without Moreau to keep you warm?” Bryce’s deep voice was taunting as he lifted Caitlin the rest of the way to the floor.

  “I slept as well as can be expected, surrounded by thieves and murderers,” Caitlin said tightly as she twisted to extricate herself from the man’s hold.

  But Bryce only released her waist to swing her around into the curve of his arm. “Feisty, isn’t she, Anselm?” he remarked to his mate standing nearby. “What do you think we should do with her, since she won’t tell me anything about Moreau? Should we have her drawn and quartered? Or do you think it would be better to have her keelhauled?”

  “Keelhauling is a lot of work, mon—tying her up and dragging her body under the ship,” said Anselm with a grin. “And it wouldn’t be so good for the Sea Devil’s new paint job, either.”

  Caitlin tried not to cringe as both men laughed. She noticed Lars standing to one side. The old man had a frown on his face as he approached Bryce. “Begging your pardon, Captain. I don’t like to interrupt your joking and all, but didn’t you tell me to feed this girl and then put her to work? There’s a devil of a lot to be done around here.”

  “Yes, I suppose she should eat, Lars,” said Bryce, poking at Caitlin’s ribs through the remains of her thin dress. “The wench is too skinny to do much heavy labor. She’ll need energy…and more appropriate clothing too. I don’t want the crew ogling her.”

  “I’ll have one of the deckhands throw down some old jeans and a shirt for her,” offered Anselm, heading for the deck above.

  Bryce kept his arm around her despite Caitlin’s quiet attempts to remove it. As he guided her to the ship’s long dining table, her body brushed against his hard one, and she felt an unwelcome warmth creep through her. Caitlin hung her head. How could she respond so easily to a kidnapper? Last night his very presence had made her feel dizzy.

  “I…I’m hungry,” Caitlin said shakily. “Could you please let me go so I can eat?” She was relieved when Bryce finally released her so she could sit down.

  The handsome captain raised his brows. “It seems we must make haste to feed milady, Lars. What kind of leftovers do we have from breakfast?”

  “Sausage, beans, and bread, sir,” said the old man, setting a plate before Caitlin. Although the red beans were almost flavorless and the sausage too salty, she dug in vigorously, telling herself she’d be needing energy to go along with her positive attitude.

  “So, now that I’ve allowed you to take care of your own needs,” said Bryce smoothly, smiling grimly from where he sat opposite her at the table, “how about taking care of mine?”

  Carefully ignoring the man’s innuendo, Caitlin asked, “Oh, you mean you want some of this food?” She then offered him her half empty plate.

  “No, I want some information.”

  Caitlin sighed. “So we’re back to that. I suppose you still think I know about Jean Moreau’s boats or whatever. I’ve told you I’m only a guest at his resort.”

  “Sure, and you were just taking a joyride on his cabin cruiser with his hired men last night.”

  “They forced me to get—” Caitlin stopped in mid-sentence. “Those men were hired by Jean?”

  “You know they were.”

  Caitlin frowned. Was the Frenchman aware that he was paying a crew of criminals? Loading boxes at night on the wrong side of Hibiscus, Jenkins and the others had obviously been up to no good. Moreau’s own employees must have been stealing from him.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Bryce. “Your gallant French lover?”

  “Jean isn’t my lover. The most we’ve ever done is kiss. I didn’t even encourage him to do that.”

  “You didn’t look unwilling to play the besotted lover the day I saw you two in the bar.”

  “Jean made a pass at me and I was trying to be polite.”

  “And you were so polite, he decided to write you some torrid notes?” Bryce frowned.

  “Notes?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Why do I have to drag everything out of you?” he asked with annoyance. “Besides the message I found in your pocket, I read the other love note Jean left pinned to your door. I saw it there the same night we had our little tête-a-tête in the moonlight.”

  “You read that note too? For heaven’s sake,” said Caitlin irritably, dropping her fork on the plate. The memory of the romantic evening she’d spent with Bryce reminded her of how besotted she’d been with him and his kisses the next day. What a stupid fool she’d been. He’d never been affected by her awkward flirting or her ordinary looks. “If you wanted to snoop into my business, why didn’t you read my diary while you were in my bungalow?” she asked testily. “Although why I would interest pirates is beyond—”

  “You’ve got a diary?” Bryce interrupted with unconcealed interest.

  “Yes, but it’s still on Hibiscus,” Caitlin offered sarcastically. “It doesn’t have much about Jean in it, but if you take me back, I’ll be more than happy to turn the book over to y
ou. I’m sure you’d like to see the treasure map I drew.”

  “Treasure map?”

  “Yes—the instructions for opening my jewelry box. You can have all my priceless rhinestones, but I beg you to please let me keep my charm bracelet and Timex watch. They’ve been in my family for years.”

  Bryce scowled. Then he leaned across the table to take her chin firmly in his hand. “Look, Caitlin,” he stated, making her stare directly at him. “I’m getting sick and tired of playing these stupid little games. It’s only your first day on my ship, and already you’re making me lose my temper. What do you think is going to happen to you later, when I get really angry? Come clean with the truth and I’ll let you go now.”

  “I am telling you the truth,” Caitlin insisted, her voice rising slightly. He held her chin steady, his long fingers cupping the sides of her jaw.

  “Well, you’re going to have to tell me a whole lot better and a whole lot more.”

  “More, huh?” Transfixed by Bryce’s fierce sea-green gaze, Caitlin glared back and felt herself grow warmer. Only this time the heat wasn’t fueled by her attraction to the man; it came from her mounting anger. The pirate captain wasn’t the only one growing sick and tired of games.

  “Okay,” said Caitlin, thinking quickly. “If you’ll free my face so I can talk comfortably, I’ll tell you everything.”

  She took a deep breath when he released her chin. An innocent bystander to the dirty work she’d happened upon, Caitlin was sick of being threatened and even more tired of being pushed around. If the truth wasn’t good enough for Bryce Winslow, why not give him some lies to chew on?

  “So talk,” he ordered.

  “I’m thinking of the best…way to tell you,” Caitlin said, trying to put her story together in her mind. “Um, unfortunately, Captain Winslow, you’re not going to like what I have to say. Just by keeping me captive, both my employers will have you on file.”

  Bryce scowled. “Moreau and who else?”

 

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