Lost Honor (2 page)

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Leave her be. I’m coming up.” He addressed the rest of the seamen. “Get back to work.”

Captains didn’t go aloft, but this was a special case. He quickly accomplished the ascent and stared into defiant, tenacious, cerulean eyes. “What did you think to achieve by climbing up here?”

“I was evading a horde of men.”

“Who were after you for your own good.”

She planted her hands on curvaceous hips. “I am quite capable on a ship. I’ve been sailing on one since…” Her gaze lowered to his legs. “I was as tall as your knees.”

He eyed her up and down. She wasn’t much taller now. “Not on my ship you haven’t. Return to the main deck.”

“Are you going to take me back to shore?” She pointed toward the last of England disappearing over the horizon.

“No, I told you that wasn’t possible.” The mast swayed as the ship rode the swells.

“Then I am remaining right where I am.” She turned her back on him and stared at her destination.

The infuriating chit. She needed a hand taken to her backside. His gaze rested on the tantalizing vision before him. His hands itched to discipline and then explore the shapely, white flesh. He swung his eyes away with a determined effort. He didn’t have time to dally with this female, sexually or otherwise. “I am ordering you to return to the deck.”

She whirled to face him. “You order me? You may command obedience from your men, but you have no control over me.” She crossed her arms over her enticing bosom. “I am not supposed to be nor do I want to be on this ship. I have an order for you. Take me back to London.” Her finger stabbed his chest with the exact pronunciation of each word. “Or I will see you hang for kidnapping.”

She had the nerve to threaten him. Before she had a chance to react, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder. Kicking legs and pounding fists pummeled him. She hit hard for a woman her size. He winced as a well-placed foot struck him squarely in the chest. Wrapping an arm around her legs to contain half of her tirade, he smacked her on the rump to still the rest. His hand lingered a moment longer than needed. Her rear was as firm as he had suspected.

She screeched with indignation. “Put me down.”

His ears rang with her fury. “I will
bring
you down.” He stepped toward the opening.

“You are not carrying me like this.”

“Watch me.” Not much made him angry, but this small slip of a girl succeeded where others had failed.

She gasped as he placed a foot on the ratline. “You can’t do this. You will kill us both.”

He refused to let her loose to wreck havoc again. “Be still, or we will topple to the deck.”

She stiffened and clutched his linen shirt with both hands.

It was about time she obeyed. If she were a man, she would be in irons right now. Descending quickly, he soon landed on the sturdy, wooden planks. “You can let go.”

Legs and arms started to whack him again. He didn’t want to part from the warmth of her, but the beating convinced him to change his mind. He dropped her on her feet.

Her face burned a fiery red, and her eyes spit blue fire. She raised her hand, swung it back, and then shot forward.

Morgan grabbed her wrist before her palm connected with his cheek. “You should be grateful I stopped you. If you were part of my crew, I would have you flogged.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she wrenched her wrist from his grasp and stalked to the railing.

Was she attempting to get her way with that tear? His sisters used the trick all the time. It wouldn’t work. He was immune to watery eyes. Following her, he snatched her upper arm and headed toward the ladder leading below.

She dug in her heels. “Let go. Where are you taking me?”

“Where you can’t cause trouble.” He dragged her as she yelled unladylike curses, resisting every step of the way.

When they reached his cabin, he scanned the interior and sniffed the air. All was as it had been before she entered his life. He threw her on his berth, but she jumped up, fear and panic rioting in her eyes. For once, her mouth remained closed.

Morgan knew what she thought, but it wasn’t his intention. At the moment, he wanted to be as far away from her as was possible on this brig. To rest his ears and concentrate on the problem of finding his brother and the pirates raiding his ships. He yanked the key from the lock, stepped over the threshold, slammed the door shut, and locked it.

Fists pounded on the door as he strode through the corridor. She was going to make his life miserable.

****

Arianna slid down the door and plopped on the floor. She closed her eyes in resignation. Nothing was happening as she had planned. First, the barrel she had hidden in was delivered to the wrong ship. Second, she hadn’t realized they would roll it, which made her dizzy and caused her to lose her breakfast in front of Captain Danvers and his man. She groaned. On top of his foot. Third, he had refused to take her back to shore. Fourth, her attempted escape had failed miserably, and fifth, she had suffered the indignity of being carried from the ratlines over his shoulder.

Heights never scared her before, but dangling with her head pointed toward the wooden deck and possessing no control over her life and death had terrified her. Even squeezing her eyes tightly closed hadn’t help. It only magnified the image of her bloody demise, and instinctively, she had gripped his wretched body.

To make matters worse, when he released her, she had cried. Completing the package, she had shown her fear again when he shoved her on his bed. The whole incident humiliated her.

But Arianna refused to allow the situation to defeat her. She jumped up and paced the sparse cabin. What to do now? She wouldn’t remain locked up during the entire trip. She had set out to prove herself, and that was what she intended to do. This ship might not be the
Midnight Star
and Thomas wasn’t the captain but resolve and determination still flooded her veins.

No matter what vessel she sailed on, Arianna would have had her work cut out for her. Even though out of all her brothers she felt closest to Thomas, six years her senior, he would have protested her working alongside his men. But she could have cajoled him into letting her have her way. It might take longer to prove herself to the captain of this ship, but she’d do it.

First, she had to change her appearance and escape this cabin. She tugged off the woolen cap, and her blonde braid tumbled out, the end swaying around her rear. Digging her fingernails into her itchy scalp, she scratched as her gaze roamed the neat cabin. There had to be something here she could use.

Arianna dropped to her knees before the drawers built under the berth and rummaged through the captain’s clothes. Holding up a pair of pants, she frowned. The hem would trail a foot over the ends of her toes, and the waist could fit two of her. She shook her head. “Much too big.”

So much for disguising herself in his clothes.

The desk. Maybe there was an extra key hidden there. Opening the drawers, she snatched out bills, correspondence, charts, and shipping documents, rifled through them, and then tossed them aside. None were of use.

Her gaze wandered again, searching. The square table sitting in the middle of the room was empty. Locks secured the two chests sitting against the wall. The cabinet housing his books. She rushed to it, and yanking the novels out one by one, she flipped through the pages and then flung them on the table. Discovering nothing, she sank onto the ladder-back chair she’d occupied earlier. With her elbows resting on her knees, she clutched her head in her hands.

Think. There had to be something.

A key rattled in the lock. She jerked up her head. Was he returning? She jumped to her feet.

In walked the boy she had pushed by earlier, carrying a wooden tray. “The cap’n said to bring you something to eat.” His eyes widened at the condition of the cabin, but he said nothing further as he crossed the floor and nudged aside a few books to lay the tray on the table.

“Your name is Mark?”

His eyes wary, he nodded.

“Well, thank you, Mark.” She strolled toward him. “Do you think you can help me?”

As she advanced, he retreated. “The cap’n said to only bring you food.”

“As you can see, my clothes are filthy.” She held her hands out to the side.

He gulped.

“I would feel so much better if I could change them.”

He bobbed his head again but remained mute.

“When Jurgens dragged me from the hold, he left my bag with all my clothes in it. Do you think you could get it for me?”

“The cap’n said to only bring you this food.” He hurried to the door.

Desperation gripped her. “Mark.”

He halted with his hand on the door handle.

She hated to use feminine wiles—it had never worked on her brothers—but she’d employ whatever weapons would get her what she needed. She laid a hand on his arm and batted her lashes.

He trembled slightly.

The captain had reduced her to deceiving this boy, who looked to be about thirteen and unused to girls. Another mark against her captor. “I would so appreciate it, and I am sure the captain wouldn’t mind. You are only returning what is mine.”

Indecision between wanting to please her and obeying his orders flitted through his eyes.

“The captain didn’t say you couldn’t bring me my bag, did he?”

Mark shook his head.

“Then I am sure it is fine. It will only take a few minutes, and I would be so grateful.”

His green eyes brightened. “I guess I wouldn’t be doing anything wrong.”

“Captain Danvers would want me to be comfortable while I waited.”

That was a lie. He only cared she obeyed his every command. As she recalled the way his large hands had touched her, heat rose in her face until she remembered he had slapped her on the rear. No one, not even her papa, had punished her in such a way. Had Mark witnessed the degrading spectacle? She banished the thought and her anger as she forced a pleading look to her eyes.

“I’ll get your bag. I’ll be right back.” Mark slipped from the cabin.

She waited for the grating sound of metal on metal. It never appeared. She eased open the door and snatched the key from the lock where he had left it. If she kept him flustered, maybe he would forget it when he left for good. She was positive his usual practice didn’t include unlocking the door when he came in the captain’s cabin.

With a new change of clothes and employing a little stealth, she might be able to work among the crew before the captain discovered her. By that time, she hoped he would recognize her ability and worth and allow her to continue.

The smell of fish from the meal Mark had brought drifted to her nose, and her stomach rumbled, dissatisfied with its empty condition.

She didn’t have time.

Hunger pleaded with her to reverse her decision.

She could eat until Mark returned, and she did need to keep up her strength. She sat at the table and shoveled fish, beans, and potatoes into her mouth, occasionally shoving in hunks of weevil-free bread, a luxury at sea.

Mark rushed into the room, and she jumped up. “I got your bag, miss.” He held it out to her.

“Thank you.” She took it and kissed his cheek.

His face burned a bright red, and his eyes lit with wonder and adoration. “You’re welcome, miss.”

“I won’t forget your kindness.”

Mark shuffled his feet and wiped his hands on his pants. He swallowed hard before asking, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, I am fine now, Mark.” She smiled at him.

“Then I better get back to my chores.” His voice croaked on the last word. Red in the face, he flew out the door.

She held her breath, not moving.

Silence.

She expected him to return at any moment to try and lock the door.

Nothing.

She exhaled with a whoosh.

Mark was a good, sweet boy. When Captain Danvers discovered her missing and working among the seamen, she would not allow him to blame Mark. She would own up to her perfidy.

Opening her cloth bag, she pulled out a checkered shirt and dark blue duck trousers to replace the brown shirt and tan pants she wore. Arianna glanced warily at the door as she threw off her clothes and redressed with haste. She would like to forgo the wool cap that made her head sweat and itch, but her blonde hair was like a beacon and would immediately proclaim her a female.

When she planned this adventure, she thought to cut the mass of curls but could not bring herself to do so, and her mother would be horrified if she had. Besides, why couldn’t she look like a female and still perform the work of a man?

Shoving the cap on her head, she grabbed the key from where she had hidden it inside one of the books. She cracked open the door and peeked out. No one was near. She raced down the dim corridor and bounded up the ladder. At the top, she halted and lifted her head so only her eyes and above showed.