The Judge didn’t bother to look up. His stare drilled into Charity as Thomas dragged her away. “Our new sailing master has smuggled a woman aboard.”
“That’s not true,” she shouted, and Thomas tightened his arm around her, knocking the air from her lungs.
“Nothing for you to worry about, Cap’n,” The Judge assured him.
“I found it!” A crewman raced from the path they’d come, a wide grin on his face and James’s stocking bulging with money in his hand.
The look The Judge passed to the unwitting crewman was one of contempt and frustration.
“What’s this?” Captain Payne squinted at the deck below, descending the steps until he stood next to the crewman who’d just arrived.
“The ransom money. I found it,” he crowed.
“Very good.” The captain plucked the stocking from the crewman’s hand. “I’ll take care of this.” His lustful gaze turned to Charity, sweeping over her from head to toe. “I’ll take care of her as well.”
Thomas tensed, a soft curse brushing past her ear.
“A sight for sore eyes.” Captain Payne reached out, his fingers coming close to her breast before Thomas pulled her away.
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Watch yourself, Glanville,” he warned, before giving Thomas a nod. “Bind her hands.”
James jerked against his ties and swore under his breath. “Thomas.”
His jaw rigid, Thomas did what he was told, using a rough cord to secure her wrists at her front.
Giving James barely a look, the captain seized her bindings and led her toward the stairs.
The crew muttered and groaned, and The Judge’s lip twitched. “Hold, Captain.” His eyes took in the eager faces around him. “I say the men deserve a fine treat.”
Charity flinched as a resounding cheer rose up, and her stomach churned in disgust. She’d rather die.
A scowl darkened the captain’s face, his glare directed at The Judge. “As captain, I claim first taste.” To the rest of the crew, he gifted a smile. “Worry not, lads, I’ll pass her on when I’m through.”
“Wait,” James yelled. “What of the articles? We’re not to dally with an unwilling woman. What example do you set for the crew?”
Captain Payne paused at the foot of the stairs. “Don’t lecture me about the articles, me boy. You yourself paid them no heed when you brought her aboard.” The captain grunted. “I wrote the articles! I decide what happens aboard my ship.” He waved a hand toward The Judge. “Carry on.”
Another cheer rose from the barbaric lot.
She fought the captain’s hold as he dragged her up the stairs. Her efforts were barely noticed by the man as he grumbled about The Judge’s impertinence. “The scug thinks he can undermine my authority?”
The first snap of the whip brought her attention back to the deck. Thin red lines brightened James’s shirt. She pulled back again. “Please, stop.” Another crack rent the air, and she winced as she imagined the damage being done.
The captain yanked her forward. “What would the crew think if they knew that The Judge’s whore of a mother had him pleasuring men as a child?” They stepped into a cabin where a large desk sat before a wall of windows. He hauled her through a second door. His lavish personal quarters. Weapons of all sizes and types decorated one wall—pistols, swords, even an ax. Paintings crowded the others. They passed a dining table covered in wine bottles, breads, and cheeses. Captain Payne dropped the stocking onto its surface, then all too quickly towed her to his bed.
He tossed her on top of the mattress. Charity scooted away, and he grabbed her ankle. “Where you be going, sweeting?” He pulled her toward him, avoiding her kicks and blows. She struggled with the bindings at her wrists, and as if by magic, the knot fell away, freeing her.
How?
“Glanville,” the captain spat. “He’ll get his due.”
She clawed at the hand around her ankle, but the captain climbed atop the bed. He shoved her back with a hand on her chest and crawled up her body until he hovered over her. With what little room she had, she hit his face and ripped at his hair until he captured both hands in his. His hungry gaze devoured the curves of her breasts. “Beautiful to be sure.” He lowered his face. She held her breath against his unbearable stench and twisted against his hold. Before his lips could touch her chest, she freed one hand and raked her nails across his cheek, leaving three welts.
With a growl, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her down into the bed. He reached beneath her petticoats, and she cried out. She pushed against the mattress, but he weighed her down with a hand on her back. Her heart beat so hard, she thought it might burst.
“Save your moaning. You’ll make good use of it shortly.” He tossed up her petticoats, and spread her legs wide.
A loud boom echoed in the distance.
The captain stopped to listen as she thrashed beneath him. Outside the cabin—a great splash of water. “Bloody hell. Cannon fire.” He rose from the bed, and she pushed her petticoats back into place. In swift strides, he headed for the door, pausing when he reached it to look her in the eye. “Stay inside the cabin, or I will take my pleasure of you in front of the men.”
She shuddered at the thought. Still, as soon as he walked out on deck, she hopped up from the bed and approached the wall of weapons.
Another explosion rang out. “Man the guns,” the captain yelled. “Hard to larboard.”
The ship rocked with the impact of a cannonball. Somehow she kept her footing and reached for a saber mounted on the wall. The sword wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard she yanked, it held fast. The blessed thing was fastened to the wall. More shots whistled outside the door. Timber cracked and agonized screams rose up. “Fire!” the captain shouted.
Charity tried freeing a few weapons, then ransacked every cabinet, chest, and drawer before she found a pistol tucked away in the desk. Please, let it be loaded. She scooped up the stocking from the table. She’d rather throw the money into the sea than let the captain keep it. Holding the pistol high, she slipped out the door. The captain faced away from her, issuing orders in rapid succession. The Judge stood beside him. He raised a muscular arm and pointed to the deck below. “You there, man your post.”
Already smoke and dust darkened the skies. Signs of damage lay all around her—great pieces missing from the railing, ropes and sail hanging from above, and bodies littering the deck.
Charity swallowed her fear and pointed the pistol toward the captain and The Judge. She skirted the far railing, watching her step for splinters and fragments. Heading for the stairs, she caught sight of the warship approaching. The King’s Jack billowed on its bow. A Royal Navy vessel, and it would soon be upon them. The image of Richard Shevington, Royal Navy captain, flashed into her mind, his furious gray eyes spearing her through. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t go to such lengths. Would he? No. How would he even know she was here?
Captain Payne leaned over the rail. “All men to arms!”
As Charity reached the stairs, The Judge bent to the side and picked up a broken piece of railing from the deck. “Good riddance, old man.” With a wild swing, he thrust the pointed stick into the captain’s side. Captain Payne howled and grabbed hold of the wood protruding from his body while The Judge scanned the area around them. His black eyes connected with hers.
Her heart leaped for her throat as The Judge took a step toward her. She backed away. Deafening blasts made her jump as the man-of-war fired upon them again. Two cannonballs connected by a metal bar whipped in tight circles, cutting through the rigging high above. A broken beam plunged to the deck, landing between her and The Judge.
Charity raced down the steps, choking on the hazy air. She glanced back, sure The Judge would be close behind. Instead, he stood over the motionless body of the captain. “Fight to the last,” he bellowed to the men. “Captain’s orders.”
Heaven help them. She ran full out to the place where James knelt, his back bloodied. “Oh, James, I’m so
sorry.” If she hadn’t been found in his cabin…
“I’m fine,” he assured her, although he shook with the effort to rise. “My blade is in my boot. Cut my bindings.”
Charity set down her weapon and grabbed the knife. James studied her face as she worked to free him. “Captain Payne, he didn’t…hurt you, did he?”
“No. He had no time.”
James expelled a breath and nodded once. The last strand of cord snapped beneath the blade’s edge and she handed him the money-laden stocking. “I believe this is yours.”
“My thanks.” As James tied it to his belt, she caught a movement to their side.
Dear God. The Judge. He had a whip in one hand, a bloody sword in the other, and a determined stride that put them directly in his path.
James spotted him. He snatched the knife from her fingers and pushed her behind him. “We’re not the enemy here,” he called out.
“That’s for me to decide,” The Judge growled and peered at her, his look cruel and deadly. She shivered. James was wrong. In The Judge’s eyes, she was his enemy. He would kill her if given the chance now that she’d witnessed the captain’s murder. Without her, he could insist that debris from a cannon blast had killed their leader.
Her throat so tight she could barely swallow, she skittered forward, determined to regain the pistol she’d left on the deck. “Stay back,” James warned. He grabbed her arm and jerked her behind him once more, but before he could resume a fighting stance, The Judge struck out with his whip. James flinched and touched the fresh blood on his cheek.
“Give her over,” The Judge demanded, pulling his arm back for another snap of the whip, “and I’ll let you live.”
“Why do you want her?” James asked. “What has she done to you?”
The Judge ignored his questions. Instead, he pointed his sword at James in warning. “Give her to me.”
James lunged for a piece of broken decking and came up with a plank as long as his arm just as The Judge made his move. Using the stave, James blocked the swipe of The Judge’s sword and sprang forward, his blade ready. James fought to get the upper hand. An unlikely outcome. His lowly dagger and a broken piece of wood against The Judge’s sword? Charity gave it no more thought. In the midst of groans from injured crew and the blast of cannon fire, she dove for the pistol still lying on the deck. She managed to cock the gun and took aim. “Stop,” she yelled at The Judge. “Stand back.”
Neither man took notice. “Stop at once!”
The Judge swung his sword, and James leaped out of its reach, barely avoiding a slash across his middle. She’d pull the trigger, but James blocked a clear shot. Move!
The ring of metal on wood turned her head for a moment. Grappling hooks now secured the navy vessel to the other side of the ship. More men clambered aboard to enter the fray. All dressed in tattered clothes, the Royal Navy men were hard to tell apart from the pirates.
She held the pistol steady. James, move! James shielded himself with the wood and struck out. His blade met flesh, scoring The Judge across one shoulder. The Judge jerked away, his jaw dropping in shock, before he barreled forward with a snarl. He rammed James into the mast of the ship and came down on James’s neck with an elbow, dropping him to his knees. Her heart knocked into her sternum with a mighty kick.
“No more,” she demanded.
The Judge turned his stare toward her as James swayed, then fell limp. For an instant, she couldn’t force breath past her lips, despite the pistol aimed at The Judge’s chest.
A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as he stepped closer, and a rush of heat engulfed her from head to toe. She clenched the gun in both hands in a desperate attempt to steady them. No use. The Judge stalked forward. She should shoot, and she would. She would. Charity took one step back, and another. The Judge is an evil man. He wants to kill me. Her spine touched the rail, the ocean just over her shoulder. Shoot. Shoot! Trembling, she pulled the trigger. The gun barked out, jerking her arm with such force she nearly lost her grip on the thing.
The Judge neither blinked nor moved. Her stomach plummeted to the floor. She’d missed. With a cry of a wild man, he raised his sword high and charged forward, closing the gap between them. Behind him, James shook his head as if to clear it and peered her way. His eyes flared wide. “No!”
She cringed and closed her eyes when a deafening crash drowned out all else. An unknown force rammed into her, propelling her backward, hurling her over the ship’s rail. Charity screamed, her eyes opening to the sight of a hail of splintered wood and her rapid descent. She plunged into warm water, her gown billowing up around her. Stunned, it took a few seconds for her body to respond to her mind’s pleas.
Desperate to regain the surface, she kicked her legs. When at last her face broke through, she gasped in a short gulp of air, only to sink down once more. Panic flashed inside her chest, and she struggled to rise again, her arms and legs burning from the effort. Her petticoats fought against her, pulling her down, deeper into the sea.
…
Charity’s scream echoed in James’s mind. Charity. Regaining his senses, he forced himself to his feet. His gaze darted to the quartermaster, who lay sprawled on the deck from the cannon blast, rivulets of blood running from a wound on his head.
James staggered past the gaping hole in the deck and looked over the side of the ship, scanning the waters below. A chill crept up his spine. Charity was nowhere in sight. Damn it. After an explosion and a twenty-foot fall, would she still be alive? Lord, he hoped so. James tucked his knife into his boot and dove from the rail. He broke through the surface of the water. The open wounds on his back stung to high hell, but through the depths he caught sight of Charity. Her dress billowed, and her hair floated like a halo about her head as she clawed at the water. Kicking his legs with all his strength, he swam deeper. The pressure on his eardrums strengthened as he neared her thrashing arms.
He grabbed her hand, and raced for the surface, his lungs aching. When his head cleared the water, he drew in hearty gulps of air and seized Charity about the waist, pulling her close until her head lolled on his shoulder. She sputtered and choked, between pants and gasps. Thank God.
Squinting up at the ship’s rail, he searched for a sign of The Judge. No one stood guard. He glanced at the ladder that could take them back to the deck. If they returned to the ship, Charity would be in danger from the quartermaster, assuming he’d survived the blast. Even if he hadn’t, she’d still be eaten alive by the crew.
Where then? The Royal Navy ship? He had to believe they would treat her better. One arm still wrapped around Charity, he swam past Neptune’s Mercy’s hull and on to the navy vessel. Salt from the sea ate at his wounds. Every motion was agony. “Can you climb the ladder?” he gasped when they’d reached the farside of the navy ship.
She nodded weakly. “I’ll try.”
He hoisted her up like a bag of grain, and Charity clasped on to the ladder. James joined her a moment later. His body supporting hers, she climbed up, trembling with each step.
“Are you hurt or bleeding?” he asked, his hands making a quick sweep for injuries.
She shook her head. “My entire body aches, but I don’t think anything is broken, although my neck and arm…” Her foot slipped on a wrung, and he steadied her with a hand at her waist. When they reached the top, James climbed up behind her, his chest pressed into her back.
He brushed aside her dripping hair and inspected the side of her neck where splinters big and small protruded at all angles. No doubt he’d find the same on her arm. “We’ll care for your injuries as soon as we’re on board.” James looked over the rail. Smoke obscured much of his view, but it appeared the attention of all hands, what few remained, lay on the battle that still raged aboard the pirate ship. In a gray coat with brass buttons, the navy captain stood at the far rail, issuing orders to the crew, safely out of the fray.
Charity tensed.
“What’s wrong?” The occasional blast of a pistol drowned out t
he ring of steel and anguished cries of men from the other ship. But her reaction was from something more.
She dragged in great lungfuls of air and crouched as low as she could. “It’s him.”
What? “Who?”
“The man my uncle tried to force me to wed. The captain.”
James’s gaze returned to the man. Slender and tall, but with a bullish bearing and a sharp tone, he seemed every bit an earl’s son—arrogant, proud, and condescending. Still, he must be a better man than The Judge, although Charity’s obvious fear… Damn. He scanned the deck, his attention catching on a doorway nearby. “Over there.” He pointed to the spot. “Let’s go.”
He helped Charity over the side and onto the deck, ever watchful of the activity around them. She ducked into the shadows and sank to the floor. A mixture of fatigue and pain creased her features. Noiselessly, James climbed over the rail and slipped down beside her.
“I need a moment,” she said, her plea more breath than sound.
James peered beyond the door. An empty gun room. “We have no time to spare.” Not if they wanted to avoid detection. He scooped her up and carried her inside. The wounds from his whipping burned from the effort.
The portholes had been left open to air out the smoke, letting in daylight. They passed by the many cannons to a passage beyond and reached a staircase. “Take the lantern from the peg.”
Still safely in his arms, she used the tinderbox to light the wick, and James descended the steps to another gun deck and went lower still, to where the cluck of chickens and the grunt of a pig replaced the sounds of battle. The stench of animal droppings overpowered the musty smoke. This deck was empty too, save for the few farm animals in their pens. To be safe, they’d go to the hold. Safe from the man on deck. “Is this captain so bad then?”
Charity held her silence, the force of her grip on the lantern base turning her knuckles white.
“What has he done to you?” he pressed, his protective instincts snapping to attention. If she were found, what price would she pay?
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