Eden's Pass

by Kimberly Nee

  Her voice held no little hint of pride and he couldn’t deny hers had been a clever plan. Not to mention it almost made him laugh, as it was quite easy to imagine her threatening a man almost twice her size, and seeing him capitulate. It took a great deal of courage, mixed with a healthy dose of madness, and he smiled at her. “I am impressed, Finn. Very much impressed. And I must admit, I am not at all surprised. You do seem to know how to strike fear, do you not?”

  “Born of a lifetime of necessity. I could not show fear at Eden’s Pass. It would have given Tobias even more power, and that was something I would never allow. I would die ere showing weakness, vulnerability.”

  “Ahh, but you show it now,” Iñigo replied, his voice low. He reached for her, drawing into his arms once more. “But I give you my word. No one will ever know you have a soft side,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers.

  Finn looked distinctly uncomfortable and Iñigo had the feeling she hadn’t meant to divulge her secrets. As if needing to distance herself, she backed away, raking a finger’s worth of dark hair behind her ear. Clearing her throat, she said, “I suppose we’d best go topside, then.”

  He wanted to throttle Diego for his untimely interruption, though it did offer up a glimpse of what made Finn, Finn. He nodded. “Aye. We should. I certainly cannot put this off.” He sighed heavily. There was no joy in meting out a punishment, no matter how deserved it might be. The lash left a bitterness in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it because there was no other choice. It had to be done.

  Finn stood in the warm air, her stomach churning wildly as the rest of the María’s crew gathered about to watch Mateo's flogging. She did not share in the excitement buzzing about her. She loathed it, in fact. But she stood there anyhow, and swallowed hard.

  It wasn’t at all easy, standing there, waiting for Mateo to be brought on deck. An icy sweat broke out on her forehead, prickled along her back. Deep breathing helped, but not nearly enough. She simply wished for this to end as quickly as possible.

  Finally, Alejandro marched Mateo across the deck and up to the scarred mast serving as the whipping post. She turned away only when Iñigo stepped through the throngs, the new cat-o’-nine-tail in his hand, the leather tails trailing over his shoulder. Nausea rose up in a swift wave as the voices around her died out, all attention drawn now to the María’s captain.

  Swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat, she pulled her eyes from Iñigo to Mateo. Alejandro made quick work of binding Mateo's wrists about the mast, the same way hers had been when Iñigo made to have her lashed.

  A shiver prickled down her spine as Alejandro moved around to stand behind Mateo. Easing a dagger from his leather belt, he gripped it in one fist, grabbed hold of the top of Mateo's tunic with his other, and slit it down the back in one fluid motion. The tattered halves fell away, exposing his broad back, mottled with the bruises and scars from a lifetime of rough living.

  She barely heard Iñigo as he announced Mateo's crime and the punishment he’d receive, barely heard the rumblings of the men around her as they urged their captain on. The bloodlust surrounding her was astonishing, to say the least. She glanced around to see most of them smiling, laughing and nudging one another in the ribs.

  It was a struggle to breathe as the cat cracked sharply as its tails snapped over Iñigo's head. Instead, she tried to focus on the clear night sky, alit with thousands of sparkling stars. They glittered like diamonds against the endless black sky, like—

  It was no use. At the first squelch of the tails tearing into Mateo's flesh, Finn flinched, her nausea growing, twisting and churning like a violent storm. A cheer went up from the others, but her mouth was too dry to utter even a squeak. She fought to block out the anguished sound of Mateo's screams with each lash, fought to block out the horrifying sound of the whip biting into his flesh, squeezed her eyes shut at the first sight of his blood as it spurted from his flayed skin.

  At last, it was mercifully over. Mateo had slumped into unconsciousness early on and Finn turned away as Alejandro moved to cut him down from the mast, but not before seeing the look of disgust on Iñigo’s face as he threw down the lash. She continued to stare at him as he turned heel and stormed off.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After Mateo was removed from the mast and Iñigo disappeared below deck, Finn crossed over to the where the others stood, talking and laughing and enjoying their free time. Ennis smiled down at her. “Ah, Finn, we were just talkin’ about g’tting' up a game of Aluette. Feelin’ game?”

  She was about to say no, wanting only to go back below deck, but then Honoria came topside. What the devil was she doing, moving about the ship as though a member of their crew, as if she had no care at all?

  Before Finn could take a step toward her, Honoria continued across the deck, toward the stairs leading down to the captain’s cabin. She descended from sight and a sickly sweet taste filled Finn's mouth.

  Javier elbowed her sharply, chuckling, “I suppose he’ll not want to be disturbed.”

  She ignored his raucously laugh as she turned to Ennis and nodded. “I most certainly am. Come along, Ennis, and prepare to empty your purse.”

  It was well into the evening, yet Finn hardly took note of the passing time. Rather, she quite enjoyed herself, indulged in fine rum and even smoked a cigar. Ennis laughed the loudest as she accidentally inhaled the smoke and choked until she was almost purple. Still, even as she fought to breathe, she cared not, for the rum made it possible to not think about Iñigo Sebastiano. To not think about how he was most likely wrinkling his sheets with Honoria. The more rum she had, the fainter her anger became at the same notion. True, she lost almost all of her winnings from her previous gaming, but it hardly mattered as she laughed and joked and behaved as one of the men. For a brief while, she was the one without care.

  She sobered up quickly enough, though, when Diego braved the smoke-choked room to fetch her. His smile was smugly knowing as he clapped a hand onto her shoulder. “You will come with me now, Finn.”

  “Ah,” she sighed with great exaggeration. “Am I to assume the good captain has finished with his lady and wishes me to ready him for bed?”

  Diego gave her a queer look as he guided her out of the forecastle and back toward the captain’s cabin. “I think Captain Sebastiano retired hours earlier.”

  “Ah, I will assume Miss Honoria must have bored him, for him to retire early.” She grinned at her wit, even as she tripped over her own besotted feet. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “Strange talk uttered by a healthy young man,” Diego countered softly as she righted herself and fell into step beside him. “Why, those almost sound like the words uttered by a jealous lady.”

  Finn couldn’t hold back her snort. “Lady? I think not, Diego. I am no different from the rest of the men.” She cast a glance up at him, fighting back a wince at how close she’d come to betraying herself.

  But looking up at the Spaniard, it was a relief he hadn’t seemed to notice. She smiled. Diego was no longer as fearsome as he’d first appeared. His sleepy dark eyes held a hint of the devil and his thick black beard often twitched with an easy smile. He stopped, turning to face her as he lowered his voice to say, “You need not play games with me, Finn. I am aware of your true self.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I know of your deception—my lady.”

  She snorted. “And yet you think me strange.”

  He shrugged. “I find it amusing. After all, Captain Sebastiano is the one who told me the truth.”

  Was he toying with her? It made no sense for Iñigo to tell anyone her secret. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Oh, come now, Finn. Am I so great a threat? You’ve spent hours with the others, yet none have even hinted that they suspect you are not as you appear.”

  Still, why would Iñigo say anything? She sighed. “Tell me, why does he suddenly insist I spent time with the others?”

  Diego shrugged. “That I ca
nnot answer. Mayhap he wished to avoid any supposition on the crew’s part. Mayhap to foster a sense of camaraderie. Remember, as far as any one of the others is concerned, you are one of them.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, wanting to ask him if Iñigo whiled this time away with Honoria, but the question died on her lips. There simply was no way to ask without arousing suspicion.

  Yet, she needed to know, for she had no doubt she would have succumbed to Iñigo Sebastiano, had Diego not interrupted them. To know she would be sharing the captain… Well, she’d not think about it, for it only made her want to strike Honoria.

  Waving away his explanation, she blurted, “I still do not believe you.”

  He shrugged again. “Believe what you will. But we both know I speak true.” When she sniffed, he stopped to grip her shoulders and halt her progress. Spinning her about, he demanded, “Stubborn wench… Why do you think he had Mateo lashed?”

  Ignoring his derogatory wench, she stared hard at him. “Mayhap because the cur tried to choke me to death?”

  “Aye, that is exactly why. And know you, the last time a man was lashed onboard this ship?”

  “Considering it is a punishment he’s often levied at me, I’d say quite recently.”

  It was Diego's turn to snort as he leaned back against the wall, unperturbed by her glare or the ice in her voice. “It was nigh five years past since Iñigo Sebastiano ordered a man lashed. Aside from the mock of a lashing he ordered for you, that is.”

  Catching herself before her jaw slackened, she parroted, “Five years?”

  “Aye.” Diego nodded. “Five years. Now, think you in that time, no other fights have broken out onboard?”

  “I admit, it would be a surprise to hear otherwise.” True, the Smiling Jack was the only other ship she’d ever been on, and mayhap not the best to use as criteria as fights broke out on an almost daily basis. But when thrown together under such conditions, a brawl here or there was mostly likely the best way to let off steam. She suspected life aboard the María was no different.

  She shrugged. “And how are such things dealt with?”

  “Most offenders are simply deposited into the hold until we reach port. There they are escorted off the ship. It’s one of the better ships on which to work, as Iñigo’s reputation as a fair captain precedes him. There are many who would slit another’s throat to serve aboard this ship. To be sacked is punishment enough.”

  “That is how he deals with a man who thinks nothing of squeezing the life from another? By forcing them off?”

  “Oh, no. As I said, it’s how most offenders are dealt with. For the more serious offenses, there are more serious punishments.”

  “Such as what? Does the captain make them scrub the deck? Wash his stockings? What?”

  Diego's eyes hardened. “It is rare that fights go beyond a brief exchange of blows. Most are broken up before they become out of control. But, on those occasions where they do, the captain’s preferred method is sacking the one who stirred up the trouble. However, should there be no port close by, and though he does not often choose it, marooning is one such penalty he reserves for the most serious of offenses.”

  Her blood ran cold. She’d been at sea long enough to know marooning was the ultimate price for any sailor to pay. The marooned man was left on a deserted island with only the most meager of supplies—a day’s worth of water, a pistol and one shot, and, if the captain was feeling generous, mayhap a tinder box. One shot was hardly enough for hunting game, but inevitably gave the marooned man a final escape. To be marooned was to be given a death sentence, unless fate intervened. Men did survive, but only rarely.

  But there was still one unanswered question. “Why does he avoid the lash?”

  Diego shook his head. “I know not why, Finn. On this ship, it’s a punishment which makes a man’s blood run cold. For when it happens, it is no small ten-lash penalty. You would have been fortunate, had the captain not halted your lashing. Fifty is the norm and, as you saw, it is enough to make a man welcome death.”

  She sighed, also leaning up against the wall. “You said Captain Sebastiano told you about me. Why?”

  He resumed walking. “I do not know his reasons, nor do I question them. I only know what he told me.” The smile he tossed over one shoulder was bland. “And now you have confirmed it.”

  Hurrying to fall back into step with him, she rolled her eyes in disgust. “So be it. I assume you’ll not spill, though?” She cared naught if she insulted him by questioning him, but was far more concerned with preserving her own skin.

  If he was insulted, he gave no indication. “I’ve no intention of telling anyone. Iñigo wishes to keep your gender a secret, and I agree. To reveal you as a woman would be the height of foolishness.”

  An image of the crew attacking her flashed through her mind and she shuddered. Though she couldn’t quite bring herself to offer thanks, she grunted unintelligibly, brushing by him and hurrying down the corridor.

  He didn’t pursue her and she put him from her mind as she reached Iñigo's cabin. Her hand hovered above the door handle. It seemed quiet beyond the oak. Mayhap Honoria had left already?

  She took a deep breath. “I can hardly remain out here in the hallway,” she muttered, forcing herself to turn the handle and open the door.

  The lantern above her hammock was lit, the only light in the cabin. Her eyes narrowed as they wandered of their own accord toward Iñigo's bed. He was sound asleep.

  Alone.

  Confusing relief eased her mind as she tugged off her boots and climbed up into her hammock. After extinguishing the lantern, she lay there in the dark for a long while, her mind whirling with what she’d learned about Iñigo. A pirate who abhorred the lash? It made very little sense to her, as she didn’t know that was even possible.

  She sighed into the velvety darkness. At least the cabin didn’t reek of perfume. Rather, it resonated with the comforting aromas of damp wood, salty air and tangy ocean. A small something, to be sure, but it still put her mind at ease. She’d never sleep, should any other scents linger in the night air.

  Iñigo snorted in his sleep, the tick crunching as he rolled over. Finn smiled as she settled into her hammock and relaxed. If Iñigo hated the lash, she no longer had to fear it.

  Which opened up an entirely new world of possibility.

  Chapter Twenty

  Finn sat at the table, staring hard at the words on the page before her. “This makes no sense.”

  Leaning to peer over her shoulder, he replied, “Try again. You’re very close.”

  She tried to ignore the shudder racing down her spine as his breath caressed her ear. For reasons he’d not share, he insisted upon teaching her to read. She welcomed the lessons, but they weren’t at all easy, as the words on the page were a mere jumble of letters to her. Though they were English, she could not make heads or tails of them. Still, Iñigo was a good teacher—patient and determined—and not one to give up easily.

  “Do people truly speak this way?” she asked, frowning up at him.

  “They did in Shakespeare’s world,” he replied, tapping the page before her. “Try again. Do not admit defeat so easily, Finn.”

  She blew out a heavy breath, wanting only to fling the book out the window. “It’s most frustrating, this. Every time I think I have it, I am wrong.”

  Looking up, it was to see him smiling down at her with the same endless patience as he’d shown for the past four evenings. Each night, he sat with her, bent over a slender, leather-bound edition of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. No mention was made of her joining the others, nor did Honoria interrupt them. Of course, Finn wasn’t certain she’d mind Honoria's knocking on the door, as reading was a most frustrating endeavor. She stumbled over the simplest words and almost any over two syllables gave her the most trouble. More than once she slammed the book shut in frustration.

  Yet, Iñigo did not lose his patience with her. Much to her chagrin, at times her frustrations
resulted in tears, which she was quick to blink back. If he’d noticed, he made no mention of them, but instead allowed her to gather herself and encouraged her to try again.

  It was quite a pleasant way to spend her evenings, even as her frustrations mounted. Little by little, though, she recognized smaller words, and the powerful rush accompanying her newfound skill was enough for her to persevere.

  Of course, it wasn’t always easy. “I understand nothing about this,” she grumbled, shoving the book away once more, sending it toppling onto the floor.

  “It’s not too difficult,” he said, retrieving it and flipping back to the first scene of the second act, between Puck and a fairy. “Try again.”

  She scowled again, fighting to focus on the words before her. It wasn’t easy, though. She desperately wished to master the skill of reading, to conquer it. She was a quick study where things such as swordplay were concerned and was aggravated that reading came much slower to her.

  Her gaze flicked to Iñigo, peering at the page over her shoulder. It was quite comfortable. Was it possible they were actually becoming friends?

  Friends. Comforting, but not enough to keep her from feeling the crackle in the air whenever Iñigo drew near. Though he hadn’t tried kissing her again, she couldn’t deny his pull, nor could she deny she hadn’t quite put the memory of their kiss from her mind. If anything, she seemed to dwell on it more and more.

  As the days passed, her dreams of freedom drifted farther and farther from her mind. It wasn’t difficult, as things between her and Iñigo were most pleasant. She might even say she was happy onboard the María. A shock, no doubt, to feel this way, but that was exactly what it was. Happy.

  She stumbled over a simple passage and shook her head. “I understand nothing about this. What is an Amazon?”

  “A mythological warrior race in Asia Minor.” At her confused look, he added, “On the other side of the world. The Greeks believed there once lived a tribe of fierce, giant warriors—all women.”