Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  She left off her shuffling of papers and turned slowly to face him, willing the frown to vanish. "Why no, sir. I was just concentrating. You know how it is when one's mind is busy."

  A disbelieving snort greeted her prim words. Saber was relaxing in one of the large leather chairs near his desk. He was in a state of semi-undress, with his white linen shirt gaping open, and Nicole was suddenly prey to an unnerving desire to run her hands over his muscular chest. One hand rested lightly on his desk and clasped a tumbler of dark rum, despite the morning hour. He was smoking a thin black cigar, and its heady scent drifted lightly in the air. Glancing at him beneath her lashes, she was again uneasily conscious of the feeling of leashed power that emanated from him. For a tiny second she questioned the wisdom of earning his enmity; she knew all too well what a merciless foe he would make. There was silence except for the slap of the bay on the hull. Feeling something more was expected of her, Nicole asked tartly, "Didn't you like my answer, sir?"

  Crushing his cigar in a small china dish, apparently absorbed in the task, he said thoughtfully, "No, I didn't like your answer, but then, I never do ... do I?"

  Not wishing another argument to spring up between them, Nicole held her tongue, and at her lack of retort he swung his golden gaze to her face. "Nothing to say, young Nick?"

  Nicole shook her head, deliberately turning her back on him. She heard the movements as he rose from his chair, and her heart leaped within her breast when he remarked, "A quiet Nick is unusual. Are you planning something, I wonder?"

  Studiously, Nicole kept her head bent, willing him to leave well enough alone. She couldn't bear it if he started another of those queer, unsettling conversations that seemed to lead nowhere.

  It was fortunate that she couldn't see Saber at the moment, for he was staring at the back of her head with a narrowed, speculative gaze. He did so for several seconds but, as Nicole refused to rise to the bait, he shrugged his shoulders indifferently and walked into his personal quarters.

  Nicole guessed he was getting dressed, preparing to leave the ship. Her mouth felt dry; she knew that unless Allen appeared soon she would have to stop Saber from leaving. Surreptitiously her hand slid to the small pistol, and she turned her head, glancing through the doorway just at the second that Saber, fully clothed, with the black leather-bound trunk under one arm, wandered back into the room. Well, she told herself stoutly, the moment has come!

  Saber quirked an eyebrow at her as she rose from her table and walked toward the outer door. "Leaving, Nick? If you'll wait a minute you can come with me."

  Obviously unaware of the treachery that was about to be committed, he paid no further attention to her. He placed the trunk on his desk and with his back to her, opened it. After checking the contents, he slammed the lid and locked it. Putting it once more under his arm, he turned, stopping abruptly as his gaze fell upon Nicole standing very straight before the door, the pistol held determinedly in her hand.

  "Dear me," he drawled, almost amused, "does this mean what I think it does?"

  Nicole swallowed, ignoring his facetious question, and gritted, "Put that trunk on the desk."

  "Certainly. Whatever you say, m'dear. I do hope you're not a nervous person, Nick. I'd hate for you to accidentally put a hole in me," Saber murmured as he followed her instructions. The trunk safely deposited on the desk, he leaned against the edge of it, folded his arms across his chest, and asked, as if fascinated, "Do we wait for Allen to appear now, or are you doing this on your own?"

  His words gave her a start, especially that reference to Allen. Had he guessed their plot? Certainly his tone was undisturbed and Nicole was completely baffled by his attitude. Fury she had expected, but not this amused indifference. Her gaze flitted uneasily over his face, noting that while he appeared at ease, there was a taut line about his mouth and his eyes were deliberately blank.

  "Not going to answer? Well, that's wise. I see Allen has taught you admirably." His eyes suddenly left her face and lifted to a point somewhere behind her. "Ah, here's the good Allen now."

  With relief Nicole swung around toward the door, and in that instant Saber struck. Nicole had only a second to realize that she had fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the world. Like iron bands, Saber's arms closed around her, his grip crushing her hands as he wrestled the pistol from her. Struggling, her hands flailing against the arms that held her, she fought to escape, but he mastered her thrashing body effortlessly and pressed her tightly against his chest in a painful, captive embrace.

  "Little fool!" he breathed in her ear. "Did you really think you could get away with it?"

  Too infuriated to be frightened, Nicole's eyes went black with rage. "Loose me!" she spat. "Let me go!"

  She fought silently until she became aware that those strange amber-gold eyes were staring at her, that his mouth had a satisfied grin on it, and that the hands that held her securely were almost caressing in their touch. Her head snapped back in quick suspicion and her eyes widened at what she saw on his face.

  "You know," she said flatly.

  If it were possible, he pulled her even closer, and dizzily she heard his muttered, "But, of course, little witch," a second before his mouth closed over hers.

  His breath was smoky, his lips hard as they moved half savagely and half tenderly on hers. Her senses went spinning at their touch; she was unable to think clearly as she stood stiffly in his embrace, willing him to release her. After what seemed like hours, his lips left her bruised mouth and his hold slackened. A quizzical expression on his face, he inquired, "Is it just me, or is Allen the only one you share your charms with?"

  Tightly, speaking through her teeth, she snapped, "Why don't you ask him?"

  A heavy black brow tilted. "I intend to, baggage. I intend to ask the good Allen so many questions!"

  As if on cue the door behind them flew open and two burly seaman, a bloodied and disheveled Allen held between them, entered the room.

  Nicole, seeing Allen, started toward him, but Saber's hand jerked her back to his side. "Behave," he threatened softly. "Would you like to join him? I'm certain the men would enjoy it."

  Frozen by the implication of his words, she remained still, unable to take in exactly how their plan had failed, or how Saber had known that she was a female. How long had he known? she wondered sickly. From the beginning? No, surely not—even he wouldn't have knowingly exposed a child to this crude, often cruel way of life. Then when? She was dimly aware of the murmur of conversation around her, but it was Saber's, "Take him below and chain him. I'll tend to him later," that roused her from her stupor.

  "No!" she screamed, and catching Saber by surprise, she almost twisted from his bruising hold. His hand tightened hurtfully around her soft arm, and knowing it was useless to tear at the steel-muscled hand that held her, she viciously raked one side of his bearded face with her fingernails.

  Swearing, Saber released her, only to catch her other arm and, swinging her around, struck a blow across her face. Astonished and shaken, she blurted, "You hit me, you bastard!"

  His eyes gleaming and narrowed, Saber snarled gently, "And I'll hit you again if you repeat that trick!"

  Ignoring her, he snapped to the gaping seamen, "You heard me, get him out of my sight! And," he added menacingly, "keep your tongues between your teeth."

  If Nicole had thought it silent earlier, that silence had been almost thunderous compared to the one that fell on the room after the men had hurriedly departed, dragging Allen between them. Nicole refused to look at Saber but remained with her back to him and stared stonily out the porthole. Her mind was so filled with confusion at what had happened, and shock and fury at Saber's knowledge of her sex, that for a moment she felt dull and drained, not quite certain of her next move. It dawned on her rather painfully, as she stared out the porthole at the green, white-maned waves that gently rocked the ship, that she wasn't likely to have any say in what would happen next.

  Though young and personally untouched by passion, Ni
cole knew more about the animal urgings that drove men than she should have. She knew Saber wanted her ... his body, as they had struggled earlier, had betrayed that fact most definitely! Even now she remembered the warmth of him as he had held her prisoner, and most vividly she could recall the pressure of the hardened shaft of male power that had leaped to life as their bodies twisted together.

  She swallowed with difficulty, her throat suddenly parched. It seemed unfair, she thought sadly, that she would become a woman before she'd had the chance to be a girl. Her thoughts coming to the inescapable, she wondered if Saber would treat her virginity gently . . . or take her with brute passion. At least she knew what to expect from him, which was more than did most of the sheltered girls of her age and breeding. But then, in spite of her bravado, dismayingly clear and in detail, certain better-forgotten memories of Saber bedding other women—some in this very room—returned and she swallowed again. She knew he could be kind because she had seen him so; she also knew he could be an animal, and she could only hope that he would be tender.

  Resigning herself to her fate, she squared her slim shoulders and slowly turned to face Saber. He was leaning near the doorway, his eyes narrowed against the thin curl of smoke that drifted from the cigar. His hair had become disarrayed during their struggle and a few errant locks fell across his forehead, increasing his piratical appearance. Meeting his hard eyes across the width of the room, she was uncomfortably aware of her increased heartbeat. To combat her own nervousness, she thrust up her chin angrily and kept her voice cool as she asked, "What do you intend to do with us?"

  Smiling unpleasantly, he said conversationally, "You've handled it all wrong, you know. Instead of stony silence, you should show all the signs of outraged innocence and demand to know what the good Allen has done to be in his present situation. You accepted defeat much too easily. I'm disappointed in you, Nick. I was certain you would try to brazen it out."

  Nicole stiffened at his provoking manner and, unable to help herself, spat, "What good would it have done? You obviously knew the whole."

  "Hmmm, true—but never, little vixen, never betray so blatantly that you have lost. You might have convinced me that you were uninvolved with Allen's attempt. And if we had retained our present relationship, you could have helped your confederate. Pity you weren't more clever."

  Nicole restrained herself with utmost difficulty and stared resolutely at a point somewhere above his head, ignoring his goading words.

  Saber smiled to himself. What a stubborn little vixen she was. And how completely unaware of her own beauty. A feeling of intense satisfaction swept over him as he continued to stare at her. No longer would he be tantalized half out of his bed by thoughts of the lovely long-limbed body sleeping a short distance away—and no more would the memory of her as she rose from the water of Bermuda return to haunt him!

  Who she was, he didn't care. Why she was here on his ship in disguise interested him even less. She was a woman, a desirable woman, who had conspired against him. His eyes narrowed and grew hard at that thought, and for a long moment his gaze rested on her dark hair, the auburn glints flaming in a shaft of sunlight. What else could he expect from her, he thought unfairly. Women with red hair, whatever the shade, were not to be trusted. How well he had learned that lesson, he thought bitterly. Suddenly Annabelle's face rose up before him . . . Annabelle of the flaming hair and green eyes . . . Annabelle who had lied and cheated and schemed his very downfall even as he had laid his young heart at her feet . . . bitch! Lying, conniving bitch!

  Nicole, still staring beyond him, was growing tired of this wretched uncertainty. She was not going to let him provoke her or frighten her. Unfortunately, she wasn't adept at hiding her emotions, and her belligerent attitude showed very clearly on her face.

  Seeing it banished Saber's black memories, and with something approaching laughter, he drawled, "Do you intend to stay like that forever? I assure you, you'll become quite bored with it after some hours."

  Frostily she regarded him. "Pray, what else should I do?" Her voice dripped with ice, and at his quick grin she could have cheerfully thrown a knife at his head.

  He pushed himself away from the wall and walked slowly over to her. Tipping her face up to his with one finger, he lowered his head and teasingly caressed her lips with his. "You sound impatient. Are you so eager for your new duties to begin?" he murmured against her mouth. Then his lips traveled across her cheek, and he lightly kissed her ear and said, "Of course, if you wish it, we can start immediately. It's been a long while since Bermuda, and I can't think of anyone I would rather have break my enforced celibacy."

  Nicole jerked away from him and flashed, "Not even Louise Huntleigh?"

  His eyes gleamed angry gold between the thick black lashes, and Nicole was aware of his sudden spurt of hot temper. "We'll leave her out of this!" he snapped.

  Driven by some inner compulsion, she argued, "Why? Isn't she your mistress? Do you think she'll be pleased when she discovers you've been toying with another?"

  "You're very young, aren't you, Nick?" he sneered. Then struck by a new thought, he asked, "How old are you? Certainly not the fifteen you've led me to believe. While you're at it, you might as well give me your real name too. I can't continue to call you 'Nick,' can I? Although, I confess that in spite of everything I probably shall always think of you as Nick."

  She was of two minds about answering him, but they were such unimportant questions to balk at that resentfully she gave him the answers he wanted.

  "Well now, Nicole, another answer if you please. How long have you been Allen's mistress?"

  That sharply barked question gave Nicole pause. She didn't think he would believe her if she asserted that she had never been Allen's mistress—or anyone's for that matter. On the other hand, when he took her, as surely he would, the fact of her virgin state would be evident. Resignedly she muttered, "I've never been his mistress."

  "My dear child, do you expect me to swallow that?" he asked scathingly.

  Her eyes meeting his, she challenged, "There's one way we can find out, isn't there?" At the leap of speculation in his eyes she added, "I promise you I'll fight you, and you can be assured you won't enjoy it!"

  "What? Not enjoy being the first!" he mocked. "You are awfully young if you think that. Virginity in his woman is highly prized by a man."

  "But I'm not your woman, am I?" she shot back, angry and yet strangely exhilarated.

  "No," he replied with a small smile lurking about his mouth. "Not at the moment! And we haven't proved the truth of your claim either. I must admit I find it hard to believe that Allen hasn't taken advantage of your accessibility. Of course," he finished lightly, "I'm willing to be shown otherwise."

  Ignoring the taunt in his voice and feeling it was prudent to change the subject, she demanded, "What do you plan to do with Allen?"

  The smile left his lips instantly, and his features fell into their familiar hard, implacable lines. Coldly he stated, "It would be best for you to forget Allen. He is no good to you now."

  "Forget him? You must be mad! I love him! I cannot push him away as if nothing happened!" she cried, impassioned.

  "You love him?" he inquired dryly. "A moment ago you claimed you were not lovers. Make up your mind, Nick. Which is it?"

  "Damn you! You twist everything I say. I shall not tell you anything more. Make whatever conclusions you wish." Resentfully she ended, "You will anyway."

  Nicole's eyes were nearly black with distress as she hurled the words at him, but he appeared unmoved by her outburst, watching her as though she were an amusing child. Goaded by his actions, Nicole stamped a foot with rage, and her hands on her hips, she shouted, "God damn you, Saber! Don't just sit there! Answer my question. What do you intend to do with Allen?"

  A laugh burst from him and he mocked, "Aren't you forgetting that I'm the one in the position to do the asking. Calm down, little hothead."

  Gritting her teeth, Nicole fumed with impotent rage. How dare he
remain so cool, so unemotional, when he had turned her world upside down and imprisoned Allen, Allen who had saved her life at the risk of his own! She spun on her heels, intent upon slamming from the room, but Saber's voice, no longer amused, halted her.

  "Sit down, Nick. You're not going anywhere, at least not at the moment.

  "Your loyalty to your . . . er . . . confederate, while admirable, is unnecessary. He is perfectly capable of fending for himself. YOU are not! If I didn't desire you myself—God knows why—you would be chained in the hold with him. You would," he added deliberately, "also hang with him."

  Shocked, Nicole cried, "You can't hang him! You have no right!"

  Imperturbably he replied, "I will not hang him. That task will be left to the authorities at New Orleans." His voice hardening, he went on, "Your precious Allen is an agent for the British."

  "How do you know? You have no proof!"

  "I don't need any proof. I happen to know he is a member of the British Royal Navy—a captain, in fact. In case you've forgotten it, America is at war with England. Even if he had not tried to steal the code book, his being found on board my ship could hang him."

  "What can you tell? Allen has done nothing while on your ship. You cannot even prove he was doing any wrong today," Nicole said scornfully, hiding the fear that clutched at her heart.

  Saber took a deep breath and quelled the desire to turn her over his knee and beat some sense into her. She didn't seem to realize the seriousness of her position, and her blind faith in Allen annoyed him considerably. "Allen was a member of the crew on two other American ships before he joined La Belle Garce. Would you say it was a bit of a coincidence that both his previous ships were taken by the British within days after he came aboard and that both times Mr. Ballard miraculously escaped, only to reappear on another United States ship?"

  A shaken Nicole squirmed in her chair, but hung on to her aggressive attitude. "You're making it up to discredit him. Besides," she persisted, "why would a captain in the British Navy remain on La Belle Garce? We're a civilian ship—we don't carry military secrets."