Roderick did not take his eyes from her while he listened to his men, each adding their own comments. It sent turmoil through her, yet he looked calm and in control. “Is it true? Did you save the lad by means of magic?”
Why did he ask her that? Desperate for his understanding, and frustrated by the scowls and jeers surrounding her, she fisted her hands and struggled against the hold the men had on her.
“Stand your ground, my lady,” Roderick stated, “and answer me.” He strode closer, until he was between her and the crowd.
“I have hidden nothing from you.” It was the best she could muster, for fear and anger roiled in her. Panic set in. He claimed to care for her, and yet he was as bad as the rest of them—eager to turn her away now that the truth was out. How could she have let herself trust him? Worse still, care for him?
Roderick shook his head.
Maisie tore her gaze away, her heart sinking.
Yes, she had hidden things from him; they both knew that. It was only for his own protection. The less he knew of her troubled history the safer he was. He and his men. Although now it looked as if they didn’t share the same concerns for her. How foolish she had been, assisting them in their work aboard ship and healing the lad.
“Cast her out, tie her up and throw her overboard!” one of the men cried, and hurled a rope toward her.
Maisie froze. The line landed close to her feet.
Roderick’s face turned thunderous. For a moment she thought he would do as the man had suggested, but instead he turned on him. “We are not witch hunters, nor do I wish to be one.”
Roderick’s eyes blazed, his rugged face made even fiercer in its masculinity by his mood. Her heart leaped in her chest at the sight of his torment.
Just then a shout attracted their attention. A man emerged from the hatch that led to the captain’s quarters. In his hand he brandished her velvet bundle. Maisie watched in horror as he opened it and spilled the contents across the deck. “I found this hidden beneath the captain’s bed,” the man declared.
Maisie stared down at her precious lodestones as they rolled hither and yon. Her carefully preserved healing herbs and powders spilled free and were fast lifted by the autumn wind and swept away into the sky. There were other items there that were close to her heart, trinkets that Beth had given her. Most of all it was the lodestones that tugged on her heartstrings, for they had been with her for many years, and as she had enriched them, so their powers had enriched her and harnessed her magic to her when she coupled with Roderick.
The man who’d brought the bundle out kicked the stones about the deck. “Tools of her evil trade,” he said.
Roderick stood between her and the unruly crowd of men who hovered, readying for action. “I am captain of this ship. I will deal with this.”
Cursing loudly, he snatched up the rope that had been thrown at her feet.
“It was foolish of me to bring a woman on board,” he said, shouting over his shoulder to the men, “let alone one that is driven to dark ways.” He grabbed her arms, but did not look her in the eye. “I will not let you put my men at risk.”
Enraged, Maisie struggled against him.
Mercilessly, he carried on, binding her wrists together despite her efforts to fight him off, and tying the rope tightly.
“You have not put your men at risk,” she hissed at him angrily. “I have only brought the wind into your sails and healed Adam.”
Roderick hushed her. “Trust me,” he whispered.
Trust me? Confused, she tugged away.
He jerked her arms up and over her head, holding her that way while he stared into her eyes. “So you admit it? You have influenced this voyage?”
Maisie squirmed, dangling like a fish on a hook. It was imperative that she convince him she was not out to harm him, and yet everything she said only seemed to pull her deeper into the tangled mess. Fury bit deep into her bones, fury she had never experienced the likes of. It was because of what had passed between them the night before, when they’d seemed so close they were almost as one. Now he turned on her, and that made her mood black. Her power roiled within her, troublesome and uneasy and close to the surface.
“I paid you and I paid you well,” she stated beneath her breath, holding his gaze. “Don’t you forget that, Roderick Cameron.” She wanted him to feel her outrage.
“You’d be wise to hold your tongue,” he said, low enough for her ears only. His eyes flickered. His men had influence over him, though. Their opinion on the matter was crucial. He could not afford to risk mutiny.
For a moment she thought he was warning her out of good faith, but then he held her at arm’s length, as if he wanted nothing to do with her.
Anger and frustration twisted inside her, and it was she who now felt betrayed. The eternal struggle not to show her power was in danger of being cast aside. Instead, she wanted to make these men afraid of her. But doing so would only prove them right. If she demonstrated her power, it would give them an excuse to do away with her.
Roderick nudged the back of her shoulder, pointing to a hatchway on the opposite side of the deck. She’d seen supplies being carried out of there, and it was where the pot was taken below, for cooking on the grate. A bad feeling turned over in her belly. “No, I will not be locked up like a petty criminal. I have done nothing wrong.”
“I forbid you to say another word.” Determination shone in his eyes.
Was this man who she had seen as loyal and passionate and jovial growing distant? Was he an enemy to her because of what she was? Behind him, the crew urged their captain on.
She had been too foolish in trying to aid them in their work. Now they were turning on her, turning as people so often did. Cyrus had told her this would happen if she left his side. His purposes were much more nefarious, but that part of his litany was true.
When she refused to walk ahead of him, Roderick dragged her by the rope, muttering angrily as he did so.
The men stepped back as she passed, clearing the path and giving her a wide berth. She caught Clyde’s eye, and she could see he was not sure. A heavy frown scored his forehead. She had thought him about to sway, to accept her. Now he stood with the others, unwilling, it seemed, to speak out. It made her think of all the books Cyrus had made her study. The accounts of witch trials and hangings. He’d done it to instill fear in her, to make her cautious and wary. But now it was becoming as real for her as it had been for her mother.
Roderick showed little mercy as he forced her down the ladder behind him, tugging on the rope and ordering two men to follow. Brady was there, his boots on the step above her head like a threat he would willingly deliver if she did not hasten down after the captain. The ladder was long, and rickety from overuse, and with her wrists tied she was ungainly and almost slipped several times. Once she reached the bottom, she realized that what little light there was came from above. Glancing up, she saw that one of the men who followed carried a covered lantern. Once he stepped down, Brady took the lantern from him and passed it to Roderick, who then led the way.
Maisie scarcely noticed her surroundings as she followed Roderick’s broad back down the gloomy corridor. But she could smell the fetid air, the dampness in the wood and something else that made a shiver run down her spine.
The sound of keys rattling made her lift her head. Roderick was unlocking a heavy door made of wood and iron. When it swung open on its hinges, he put his hand at the back of her neck and forced her on.
Maisie stumbled over the threshold.
When Roderick secured the lantern in a wall sconce, she saw the place was a dank storeroom. The sound of water sloshing came from nearby, and the groaning of the ship seemed much louder and more frightening down there. She clung to a wooden brace that ran the length of the space, a massive beam that had supplies tied to it here and there.
“I’ll deal with her,” he shouted over his shoulder to Brady and the others. “Attend to matters above deck.”
“Be sure to secure her t
ightly, Captain,” said the man who had carried the light.
Secure her? Maisie trembled. If she denied them this power—if she used her magic to put a halt to it—it would only confirm her guilt in their eyes. They would descend as one, a fearful and crazed crowd. She had seen it before and never wanted to see it again. She had been educated to avoid it. Maisie willed herself to remember that.
“Aye, I will,” Roderick replied in a growl.
Maisie fought back the urge to cry. He intended to do as they said.
“Are you sure you can manage her?” It was Brady who asked, as if he was uncertain whether he should leave or not.
“I’ve handled her this far, haven’t I? See to the wheel. No doubt we are off course by now, and I want to reach land and hand her over to a magistrate as soon as possible. I will secure her and watch her, lest she spin magic and wreak havoc for us.”
Maisie cursed aloud.
That seemed to convince Brady, though, and he left them alone, albeit reluctantly.
After he’d gone, the door swung on its hinges, creaking violently. Roderick stomped over and slammed it shut. He stood there with his hand on the latch, as if not wanting to turn back and look at her.
She sensed he was not comfortable with this. Hope flared within her. “Roderick?”
He strode back to her side. “Don’t test me, Maisie.” His expression was determined. “I didn’t want any of this. I’m doing it for your own protection.”
His gaze, frantic and angered, swept over her. He shook his head, as if denying what had passed.
“Protection?” She glanced about, drawing his attention to their surroundings.
His jaw set hard; his lips pressed together. “I asked for your trust. If I hadn’t locked you up they might have cast you overboard.”
Her anger was only fueled by that remark, shot through with fear as she was. “Trust you? You had me hauled out there to be judged by your men! Why should I trust you? You won’t even hear my tale.” She couldn’t help herself. Her magic boiled up inside her, heated by the injustice she felt. Blurting a call for chaos, she showed him her fire.
He recoiled, and she knew he could see her power in her eyes.
“Maisie, no.” He swallowed, but did not turn away.
“I would not harm you. Why do you believe that I am a danger to you? I have done no harm to you or any of your men, and I do not intend to.”
She could not let him leave her, not without saying more on the matter. But it was too late, for the words spoken in the midst of her fury had let loose chaos around them. The ship tossed and pitched more violently, and Roderick, who was always steady on his feet, was thrown to one side. Goods shunted and something fell from a shelf. A sack of potatoes pitched and the vegetables spilled across the boards. Somewhere above, a beam creaked. The sound of wood splintering reached them. Roderick stared at her, aghast.
Twisting her wrists within their restraint, she tossed the loose rope out, cursing as the heavy weight of it snaked across the floor. But still it hampered her. She would need a knife to cut it loose. “By nature’s oath I swear I will not be left here to die. My heritage is a curse and always will be, but I will not be lowered to this by a man I gave myself to.”
“You need to calm down and think on this arrangement with a clearer head.” Roderick grasped her by the shoulders, shifting her back to where the room narrowed. He flung the loose end of the rope up and over a beam overhead and hoisted her so that her arms were stretched high and she dangled there, her feet just touching the boards beneath them.
“Don’t do this,” she begged, frightened to her marrow. The way he’d strung her up made her wild, because she was all but standing in her mother’s boots.
“This is for your protection. Stay quiet, and I will find a way to set you free.”
Struggling against him, she battled the urge to fling herself into his arms instead. To bury her face against the comforting warmth of his chest, so solid and real.
“Your eyes,” he said, and backed away from her. He shook his head. “I cannot witness you like this, for it proves them right, and I didn’t want to believe that was your secret. I fought for you up there. They are my men and this ship my responsibility. I vowed no woman would ever alter my path. Yet I kept them from ending you, and it makes me sick to the gut that I am such a fool, for I would still rather die myself than see one hair on your head damaged by another man.”
Staring into his face, she saw he spoke the truth.
His eyes gleamed with withheld emotion.
She went to respond, to query him, but he turned away and headed to the door.
“Roderick?” Struggling against the bands at her wrists, she called after him. Even though she was frantic, her heart swelled in her chest. She hated him for turning away from her, but she loved him, too.
How could he leave her down here?
Before he got to the door, he lifted the lantern as if to take it with him.
Panic flooded her.
Death tainted the air and she sensed the rats lurking in the dark corners. She couldn’t protect herself with a ring of fire as she might on open land, for it would endanger the ship. “Please, Roderick,” she cried out, “do not leave me here alone in the dark, I beg of you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Roderick knew he shouldn’t turn back. Lord knew he tried not to. His men were correct in their assertions. She was a witch and a Jezebel, and she had played him far too well. That didn’t stop him from wanting to save her, to free her and let her loose on dry land, with the instruction to run for her life and not look back.
“Roderick, please...”
Her voice reached out to him like ethereal fingers swooping across the space to touch him, just as it had that first night in Billingsgate.
“Please, at least...at least leave the lantern.”
He put his fist against the door frame, urging himself to climb the ladder away from this place, away from her. Frustration held him to the spot. He shouldn’t trust her. She’d all but threatened him moments before, showing him what she could do to his ship with just a toss of her head and a few magical words. “What, so that you can control the flame and threaten to burn us all?”
“No! I would never do such a thing. It’s because I’m afraid. There are rats. I hear them. And this place...it reeks of death.”
Roderick’s gut turned over. It was the fact she knew—that she could sense someone had died down here... It had been one of his men, afflicted with a fatal fever and sadly untreatable. The sailor had insisted on taking himself down here to die alone, before his burial at sea. None of them had been happy about it, but it was the man’s last request, and represented his dignity.
More than that, Roderick didn’t want to leave her. Everything in him balked at the idea of her alone and afraid. Yet the fact that she could sense death only proved what she was—a witch.
“You are afraid of nothing. Why would you be, with your powers?” He shot the words back over his shoulder, and as he did the image of her hanging there—so thoroughly vulnerable and compromised—made his lust flare. He quashed it down. “I cannot even look at you for fear of your magic. The way your eyes glow...I should never have brought you onto the ship.”
“I have never influenced you by magic.”
Roderick squeezed his eyes tightly shut. How he wished it were true. How he wished he could believe her. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms.
Her voice softened. “Roderick, listen to me. I promise I will not create magic, but there are things I need to say to you.”
How beguiling she was, and he couldn’t even see her. Even her voice touched him, turned him. “I will give you a few moments more, if you promise you will not look at me with those eyes.”
There was silence at his back.
Eventually, she responded. “In that case you must cover them, for my gaze is always drawn to you. Please, for what we have shared, spare me a moment to hear me state my case.”
That troubled him, as he knew it was meant to. She hadn’t been given a chance to speak. Once his men had become riled, he’d had to act and fast.
He strode back, bringing the lantern nearer to her. The flame flickered wildly, sending light and shadow skittering across the dark hold in the bowels of the ship.
Her beauty and her vulnerability seemed exaggerated by the circumstances, and he quickly lowered the lantern to the floor. “Turn your face away.”
“My eyes are closed.” Nevertheless, she did as instructed and turned her face to one side.
Hurriedly, he looked about for something to blindfold her with, lest she turn on him. Pulling his shirt free of his breeches, he went to tear it.
“You may use my petticoats,” she whispered.
Roderick pressed his lips together, ducked down and lifted her skirts.
As soon as he did he regretted it. The light from the lantern he’d set on the floor lit up her slender ankles as he lifted her skirts, and he was flooded with memories of how it felt to have those legs wrapped around him while he thrust deep between her thighs. The way she’d mounted and clung to him the night before, so bravely accepting him and claiming he was her master, all of it conspired to make him crave more of her. Doubts crowded into his head. He’d never been so thoroughly beguiled by a woman before. Was it as Brady had suggested? Was he under her spell?
“I hope I do not live to regret this,” he muttered, as he tore a length of linen from her petticoat. Dropping her skirt back into place regretfully, he rose to his feet and quickly blindfolded her with the wrap he’d torn from her underclothing.
Maisie hung her head down between her bound arms to aid him, keeping her eyes shut all the while. Roderick was struck by the sight of her like that. Her submission, after all the fire he’d witnessed in her, made his lust surge.
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