Page 17 of The Pirate Lord
“I’m Barnaby Kent, the first mate. And I wish to caution you about your behavior in the captain’s presence.”
She forced all the haughtiness into her tone that she could muster. “Are there rules of pirate etiquette I’m unaware of?”
His lips twitched as he stared at her. “No. But you could benefit from some advice concerning our captain.” He jerked his head toward the stern. “I wouldn’t make too much of your relations to the Earl of Blackmore, if I were you.”
“Whyever not?”
“Haven’t you heard of the Pirate Lord? I know he’s been much spoken of in the London papers.”
For some reason the words “Pirate Lord” rang a bell where the words “Satyr” and “Captain Horn” had not. Her heart pounded. “The Pirate Lord. You mean that … that awful man who makes it his practice to attack English noblemen whenever possible?”
“Yes,” he said dryly. “That ‘awful man’ is Gideon Horn. Your captor.”
She swallowed convulsively. Good heavens. So that’s where she’d heard of theSatyr, from the papers. No wonder the pirate captain had been so furious when she’d thrown Jordan’s title at him. She’d thought to help them by telling him about Jordan, and she’d worsened the situation instead. “I see.”
“No, you don’t see. Captain Horn hates the nobility, so you should refrain from reminding him of your noble blood if you want to stay on his good side.”
“He has a good side?”
A slow smile spread over the English pirate’s face. “He does.” His gaze trailed down her length, and his smile widened to a grin. “Especially where a woman as pretty as you is concerned.”
She jerked her gaze from his, the color rising in her cheeks. “In this case, I think ‘prettiness’ is a liability rather than an asset.”
“He won’t hurt you, you know. He’s not that sort of man. But I can’t vouch for his temper if you taunt him with your connections. I suggest you watch your words. It’ll go better for both you and the women if you do.”
He seemed so sincere, she couldn’t help but be affected. Here was a man who cared. Perhaps that could be used to their advantage. “You’re English, aren’t you? You know that what Captain Horn is doing is barbarous. Please, convince him to let us go, to bring us back to Santiago and abandon his purpose.”
All signs of concern for her welfare vanished as his eyes hardened to shards of black coal. “I long ago lost any loyalty I might feel for the English, milady. Besides, I’d be the last person to convince the captain to release all of you.”
“Why?”
“Because it was my idea to take the convict ship in the first place.”
Her mouth dropped open. Then she shut it with a snap. She should have known. A pirate wasn’t to be trusted, no matter what his nationality. He would never help them. They were entirely without hope.
“Take me to the captain,” she said dully. There was no point in delaying any further. She might as well discover her fate now.
They walked in silence beneath the rigging to the quarterdeck. She caught a glimpse of the captain standing with his back to them at the helm above, and for a moment, a chill raced down her spine. The stiffness of his stance, the boldly splayed legs, the broad, forbidding back … never had she seensuch a frightening form of a man. Mr. Kent needn’t worry. She had no desire to taunt Captain Horn.
Then Mr. Kent was taking her through the doors beneath the quarterdeck and into a wide room like the saloon on theChastity.No one was there right now, thank goodness, for they were all too busy maneuvering the ship away from theChastity. But soon the room would be filled with pirates, drinking and gambling and …
She shuddered to think of what else they might do. At least she and the women had a short respite. And maybe if she spoke reasonably to the captain, she could convince him to change his mind.
That thought foundered as Mr. Kent opened the door to the captain’s cabin in the ship’s stern and ushered her inside. She looked around, feeling a lurch of despair at the sight of the cabin’s lush interior and well-stocked gun cabinet. This wasn’t the cabin of an honest man, who would take pity on convict women. This was the cabin of a licentious murderer. And there would be no mercy for them.
“The captain will be with you in a moment,” Mr. Kent murmured before leaving and closing the door behind him.
Too busy scanning her surroundings, she scarcely heard him. She’d only been in one captain’s cabin, the one belonging to Captain Rogers. But its spartan, lean lines and minimal comforts made it look like a cabin boy’s berth compared to this.
Every piece of furniture was made of the best mahogany, from the desk cluttered with instruments and papers to the cabinet that held guns and knives of every description behind its cut crystal doors. The royal blue curtains were shot through with gold threads, and a Persian carpet lay on the floor, an obvious extravagance where water was a constant threat.
But most alarming was the large mahogany bed presiding over one corner, its posts carved with the same satyr motif thatgraced the ship’s figurehead. A coverlet of insolent red silk was draped over the plush mattress, with a heap of jet-black pillows at one end. She walked to the bed in a trance, wondering aloud what debaucheries and horrors had been committed there.
She reached out to touch the patterned scarlet silk as a sudden vivid image of the dark-haired pirate captain rose in her mind. He must have had many women on this bed. A strange heat spread through her to think of him bending over a woman, touching her body with those large hands, kissing her with that firm, mocking mouth?—
“Looking for signs of thievery, pillage, and rape, Lady Sara?” came a voice behind her.
She whirled away from the bed, her cheeks stained crimson. Good heavens, it was him. How utterly mortifying! Now she had something new to add to her list of humiliating experiences.
