Thorn gripped the ivory handle, and with a quick upward thrust, buried the blade even deeper. The Turk slumped to the floor, his legs twitched, and then he lay still.
When Thorn stepped over the body of the assassin, he glared at Brittany. “What in the hell has been going on here?” he demanded. “How did this man come to be on board the Victorious? He is not one of my crew.”
Thorn suddenly averted his eyes when he saw that the girl was making a futile attempt to cover her nakedness. “Do you know this man?” Thorn asked.
“I have not seen him before, but he said he was sent by Admiral Kainardji with orders to…slay me.”
Thorn touched the body with the toe of his black boot. “He will not harm you now. He is dead,” he said gently.
By now Cappy and two others had heard the scuffling, and they appeared at the door with startled expressions on their faces.
Thorn nodded toward the body. “Get him out of here and throw him overboard.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Cappy replied, taking charge and motioning for the two crew members to lift the body. He smiled encouragingly at Brittany before shoving the man out of the cabin and closing the door behind him.
Thorn saw that the girl had pulled the coverlet from the bed to cover herself. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I was more frightened than hurt,” she assured him, taking a faltering step and finding her legs would not hold her weight.
When her knees buckled beneath her, Thorn scooped her up and held her in his arms. Brittany laid her head against his broad shoulder, finding comfort there. “I was so frightened. He was going to…to—”
Thorn felt the trembling of her body. He wanted to kill the man again for putting his hands on her. He wanted to always be the one to protect her from harm so she would never have to be frightened again.
“Are you certain you were not hurt?” he asked, looking into her wondrous green eyes.
“I was not hurt, but if you had not come when you did, I do not know what would have—” She shivered.
“I was passing your cabin when I heard the scuffle. Try not to think about it. You are safe now.”
She could sense his strength, and it filled her whole being. She clung to him, fearful that he would put her down. “Please hold me,” she pleaded.
He sat down on the edge of the bunk, cradling her in his arms as if she were a frightened child. “Nothing will hurt you while I am here,” he said with assurance. “You know the intruder is dead.”
She shivered. “It was horrible. I wish I could get the sight of it out of my mind.”
“Think of something pleasant.”
“I cannot.”
When Thorn shifted Brittany’s weight, she cried out in pain. When he gave her an inquiring look, she pushed the strap of her chemise aside, and there was the telltale sign of a bruise—already the skin was discolored. He touched it tenderly. “I thought you said you weren’t hurt.”
“It is nothing that will not heal with the passing of time,” she assured him. “I am just grateful that it was not worse.” Her eyes softened. “I have so much to thank you for. It seems every time I am in trouble, you come to my rescue. Once again, I am in your debt.”
He smiled. “It seems you are always in trouble.”
She returned his smile. “It does seem that way. But that is nothing new in my life.”
Thorn found he was watching her lips, wondering what it would feel like to press them to his mouth. He lightly touched her midnight-black hair, unconsciously winding a curl around his finger.
Brittany felt his chest expand with a sharp intake of breath as his eyes traveled from her shoulder to the rise of her breasts where the material had been torn away. She did not move to cover herself, but gazed into his eyes, trying to see if he was feeling the warmth flowing through his body as she did.
“Damn you,” he murmured, pulling her close to him and resting his cheek against her sweet-smelling hair. “You know what you’re doing to me. You know I have been intrigued with you from the beginning. Everything about you is different from all other women—your eyes, the way you walk, the way you purse your mouth when you are deep in thought.”
Emotions he had not even admitted to himself came pouring out of him. His lips brushed across the bridge of her nose. The hand that had wielded the deadly sword now caressed her with a gentleness she had not expected. The lips that had curled in anger now touched hers as softly as butterfl y wings. The body that had leaped to battle in her defense was now pressed against hers, and she lost all ability to reason. She wanted to throw off the clothing that kept him from touching his hot flesh to hers.
“Sweet little enchantress.” The words seemed to be ripped from his lips. “Have you no mercy for me?”
“I…do not know what you—”
“Don’t play innocent with me. We both know you are not.”
She blinked her eyes. “I have not—”
“Are you certain you did not entice that poor devil into your trap?” he whispered against her ear. “Did you make him mindless with wanting you?”
She shook her head, wondering how he could think such a thing of her. “I did not know the man. He was evil, and he made me afraid.”
“How many others have you enticed with your body and your smile—certainly Lord Simijin, apparently the sultan.”
“No, I never—”
His hand moved to her chin, and he forced her to look into his eyes. “What is it that draws me to you? Did you set out to make me your conquest?”
“No,” she whispered through trembling lips. “I am not that way.”
He pulled her closer, his hands running caressingly across her dark skin, absorbing the feel of her into his mind, wanting her—aching to possess her. When his eyes fell on the pool of blood that had seeped into the cracks of the floor, he was brought back to his senses.
Brittany was startled when Thorn pulled her chemise together and placed her on the bed. He rose to his feet and smiled down at her. “So ends this argument,” he said in a deep voice. “Henceforth, you might do well to keep your distance from men, me in particular. You see how it is with me. Next time, I may not be so willing to stop. You have already conquered the hearts of two men; you will not add mine to that number.”
She wanted to scream and fly at him, for the words he spoke had wounded her more deeply than the knife thrust he had delivered to the luckless Turk. “I will detest you forever, Captain Stoddard.”
He smiled. “Good. Hate is an emotion I can deal with. I half feared you might be indifferent to me, and I wouldn’t want that.”
She turned away, wishing she had never laid eyes on this obstinate man. “Leave me or I shall have Simijin cut your head off.”
He laughed and clicked his tongue. “My, my, what a bloodthirsty little temptress you are. Was the life of one man not enough to satisfy you tonight? Must you have my blood on your hands as well?”
She whirled around, her breasts heaving from her anger. “It was you who slew the Turk, when you could have clapped him in irons and tortured him.”
Amusement danced in his blue eyes. “Pity that thought never occurred to me while I was wrestling for my life. Had I known that you wanted him tortured, I might have spared him for you.”
Her hands went to her hips, and she glared at him. “You are a hateful man.”
His eyes raked her softly curved body. “And you, madame, are in a state of undress. Shouldn’t you cover yourself—or is it your intention to tempt me?”
She whirled around, picked up the pillow from the bed, and threw it at him. The fluffy missile shot harmlessly past Thorn’s head as he agilely ducked out of the way. With amusement dancing in his eyes, he moved out of the cabin, his laughter ringing through the door he closed behind him.
Brittany’s face was flushed with anger. Were most men as unendurable as Thorn Stoddard? Perhaps Simijin was more exceptional than she had thought, for she had never seen him torment her mother as the captain tormented her.
Hot tears scalded her eyes, and she slumped down on the bunk, refusing to look at the pool of blood on the floor.
After a while, Brittany washed her face, tied back her hair, and pulled on her gown. She would sit with Achmed tonight, for she knew she would not sleep a wink after all that had happened.
Thorn’s expression had sobered by the time he joined Cappy on deck. “I want this ship searched from stem to stern to make certain there are no more intruders on board. It will go hard with you, Cappy, if any more stowaways turn up unexpectedly.”
“I will see to it myself, Captain,” Cappy agreed. “Is the little lady all right?”
“I believe she is like a cat and will always land on her feet.”
“She looked frightened to me.”
“Who can say if she was frightened or only pretending. Perhaps she lured the poor man to her cabin and ultimately caused his death.”
“I don’t think you believe that, Captain. That man intended to do her harm. I suspect he was sent by that man who captured her before.”
Thorn stood at the railing. He had not trusted a woman since his stepmother had proved how devious a woman could be. His rule where women were concerned was to make love to them, but never love them. He would certainly never believe one word any woman said, especially the little enchantress who was tugging at his heart and muddling his mind until he could not think past possessing her.
He looked into the inky night, searching for the Eastern Star. Once he located it, he wondered if the girl was like that star, cold and alluring, but with no substance. No, he had felt her warmth. She was alive—soft, and desirable.
“Damn it to hell,” he swore, drawing Cappy’s startled glance.
“Did you say something, Captain?”
“Nothing important,” he mumbled. “After you have searched the ship, go ahead and turn in. I’ll stay at the helm tonight and take your watch. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
Cappy knew his captain was in a rare mood, and he also knew it was because of the girl. “Aye, Captain. Will you be wanting anything else?”
“No, but post a man you can trust to look after that girl. I don’t want another incident that will disrupt the whole ship.”
“Aye, Captain,” Cappy replied, hiding a grin.
Thorn stood silently for a moment before he took the helm.
The first mate had never before seen the captain so befuddled. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would turn him inside out. Cappy chuckled. Perhaps this native girl was just what the captain needed.
Chapter Fourteen
The heat of the tropic sea was at its worst. Brittany sat beside Achmed’s bed, fanning him in an attempt to keep him cool. She was desperate because he had not yet regained consciousness. Dr. Rutledge had warned her that if Achmed did not awaken soon and take some nourishment, he would surely die.
She glanced down at Achmed’s face, noting how thin he was, and how his cheeks had become hollow. She touched his forehead and found he had no fever.
“Oh, Achmed, my dear friend, why do you linger in that awful darkness when the sun is shining so brightly outside this cabin?”
She heard an unmistakable sound, as if Achmed had just taken a big gulp of air into his lungs. She stared at him with hope in her heart when his eyes fluttered and finally opened.
Brittany’s eyes danced with happiness when he turned his head to look directly at her, his dark eyes filled with uncertainty and bewilderment.
“What…has happened? Where am I?”
She dropped to her knees, taking his giant hand in hers and pressing it against her cheek. “You have been gravely wounded, and I feared for your life, but you are going to recover.” She smiled. “I am glad to have my friend back again.”
His eyes glazed over with pain, and he frowned. “I cannot recall what happened to me.”
She stood up, feeling great relief wash over her. “It does not matter that you cannot remember. I suspect that with the passing of time, your memory will come back to you.”
“You are Brittany?”
“Yes, of course.”
He tried to rise up, but the pain made him reconsider, and he fell back against the pillow. “Lord Simijin will be calling for me. I must go to him at once.”
Brittany’s eyes were now round with concern. “Simijin will not be needing you now. You must rest while I go for the doctor.”
She hurried out of the cabin in search of Dr. Rutledge. She was happy that Achmed had awakened, but concerned that he could not recall where he was.
Thorn stood over the eunuch, watching Dr. Rutledge spoon-feed him some dark, foul-smelling broth. “I was glad to hear that you would recover, Achmed. You have been through a great deal, but that is behind you now.”
“My memory returns at time, Captain Stoddard. But at other times, I cannot even remember my name. I do remember you, Captain, but later I may not.”
“What else do you recall?” the doctor asked.
“I remember what happened the night Brittany was attacked by the sultan’s men at the Casa del Oro.”
Thorn stared at the eunuch. “I never knew her name until now,” he said. “I expected her to have some strange and exotic-sounding name that would be hard to pronounce and that would match her nationality—whatever that is.”
“Yes, her name is Brittany, and she is under my protection,” Achmed admitted. “Even though I sometimes call her by her name, I mean no disrespect. It is just that I have known her since she was born.”
The doctor poked another spoonful of the liquid at Achmed, and the eunuch turned his head away. “I thank you for your care, Dr. Rutledge, but I will not eat more of that concoction. What I need is real food.”
The good doctor smiled. “Indeed, I believe you are recovering. But let me caution you that you are not as strong as you might think. You must remain in bed at least until we reach Charleston.”
Achmed looked at the captain. “And how long will that be?”
Thorn was thoughtful for a moment. “If the winds hold, within two weeks.”
“I have been absent from my post too long now. I must return to my duties.” He raised up, but when the room whirled around like a spinning top, he lay back against the pillow, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead.
“As I cautioned you, Achmed, you have not yet regained your strength,” Dr. Rutledge said in his professional voice. “You will remain in bed as I said.”
Achmed tried to rise again without success. “I cannot. Who will look after my little mistress?”
“She is safe enough,” the doctor said. “I suspect there are very few situations she cannot handle by herself.”
“My mistress told me about the man who attacked her in her cabin. Can you assure me that there are no others who will try to harm her?”
“The ship has been thoroughly searched, and no one was found. There is no one on board that does not belong,” Thorn told him. “You need not be distressed on that account. Your Brittany is safe.”
Achmed shook his head, looking most distressed. “You must not call my mistress by her name. Lord Simijin would not permit you to be so familiar with her.”
Thorn’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “Yes, Lord Simijin would expect to keep her for himself. It is strange that he should care so much about this girl when I have heard he loved only one woman—the one they call the English Rose.”
Achmed’s eyes became secretive. “Lord Simijin would never allow me to discuss the English Rose with you. Nor should you call my little mistress by her true name. I have been negligent in my duties because I allowed you to know her name.”
“How should we address her, if not by her name?” Dr. Rutledge inquired.
“You should not address her at all. I am aware that she no longer covers her face, but you must not consider approaching her for any reason.”
Thorn met the doctor’s eyes. Neither of them could understand a society that so jealously guarded their women. Again Thorn felt resentment building
up inside him. He did not like the fact that Brittany belonged to a man who had many other women. He wondered how she could love such a man.
“Just rest, Achmed,” Thorn commanded. “I have made certain that your charge will come to no harm.”
Achmed smiled, feeling reassured. “I trust you, Captain Stoddard. You have proven you are a friend.”
Thorn moved out of the cabin, wondering how in the hell he got himself tangled up in Brittany’s life. He looked forward to the day when he would set her ashore and see the last of her.
The storm hit just after midnight. Thunder and lightning chased each other across the ebony skies, and a hard rain pelted its fury against the Victorious.
Brittany was jarred awake when a jagged bolt of lightning splintered through the night.
With trembling hands, she fumbled around in the dark until she found her hooded burnoose. Not bothering to dress, she slipped the cape over her nightgown, thinking she must look in on Achmed. He had appeared well enough earlier, but perhaps the storm had awakened him. She needed to satisfy herself that he still clung to life.
She left her cabin quietly and padded barefoot down the corridor to Achmed’s cabin. Silently, she opened the door to find him sleeping peacefully. For a time she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, then she closed the door, feeling more relieved about his condition.
On her way back to her cabin, she had an urge to stand in the rain and let it wash all her troubles away. She made no sound as she took the steps that led to the upper deck. Knowing there would be a man at the helm, perhaps the captain, and a man on watch, she moved directly to the railing, hoping no one would detect her presence and send her below.
By now the thunder and lightning had built up in force, but the rain had ceased. She pushed her hood aside, breathing in the clean air. She felt wonderfully revived. She had always loved storms.
“It’s late for you to be about, isn’t it?” the deep voice of the captain spoke up from beside her.
She backed closer to the railing. “I…was awakened by the thunder.”
“Yet you were not frightened if you can stand out here in the thunder.”
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