Pirate's Wraith, The (10 page)

“I am supposed to help the captain.”

“Do I hear insubordination?” Moody did not hide the threat in his eyes. “You know what we do to those who slack off in their duties.”

Fear warred with anger inside her, but anger won and she refused to kowtow to the horrid man. “If they perform their duties, they are liable to die. If they don’t perform their duties, they are flogged and then they die. It’s all the same. The members of this crew are obviously expendable.”

In the light of a lantern, his fleshy face turned a darker shade. “I see you are a shipboard philosopher. How interesting.”

Every muscle in her body ached but she had to get away from him. She stood up and though still shaky she gave her best imitation of a salute. “Goodnight, Mr. Moody.” She turned, but before she had gone a single step, Moody grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“You do what I tell you to do or you will suffer the consequences.”

She clenched her teeth and gave him her best imitation of disdain even while she looked around for a weapon. The belaying pins appeared to be the only arsenal near at hand for clobbering him. However, the rigging held in place by those same pins could be essential to holding up something important. If she pulled one out the possibility existed for the sails above to unravel and she did not want to be forced up into the rigging again.

She steadied her voice. “I take orders from the captain, not from you.”

He slapped her so hard she staggered sideways and would have fallen but the mast happened to be in the way and broke her fall. Stunned, she clung to it until her head cleared.

She had promised herself never to allow herself to be the object of some brute’s cruelty again. She lifted her chin in challenge though her heart quivered.

The memory of the drills in the self-defense course she had taken in her freshman year at college came to her aid. As Moody stood there with a malevolent grin of triumph on his face, she rallied her strength and kicked him in the balls.

He went down. She slammed the edge of her hand into his neck for good measure.

When she turned to escape, someone grabbed her from behind. Her heart plummeted. She could not fight off the whole crew.

She shoved her elbow into the ribs of her attacker. It was like hitting a rock. He gave a small grunt, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She stopped fighting because she knew the smell of him and the feel of him. That special hum of electricity surged through her as she gazed at his wonderful tush.

Captain Sterford had her now.

Chapter Six

“You struck the first mate.” Harlan pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He could not bear to view the damage Moody inflicted upon her. The left side of her face had swelled to nearly twice its normal size and her skin had turned a deep shade of violet. He wanted to pulverize Moody. Fury seethed inside him. “According to the articles—”

“He hit me first.”

“You disobeyed his orders.”

“He intended to sexually assault me.”

Harlan brought his hands down to his sides and drew them into fists. He knew of Moody’s insatiable appetite for women and boys. The punishment for buggery on the ship was death, though the sexual act would be rape in this case. Rage gnawed at his gut.

If anyone—including Moody--discovered Lesley’s deception, Harlan would be keelhauled, or marooned. Aside from forfeiting any chance he had of recovering his fortune, he could lose his life ignominiously. “What did he say to you?”

“He ran his hand along my cheek and said I was so young and so soft ....”

She put her head down on her arms on his desk and mumbled. “I hate him. He’s a real sleaze ball.”

The need to take her in his arms again consumed him. He forced himself to resist. Danger and discovery lay close at hand. Turning his back to her, he mulled over his options. 

“Were there witnesses?” He knew the man at the helm would not have been able to see either Lesley or Moody.

“No. Everyone went below after we fixed the sail in place.”

Harlan struggled for control. Until now, he had gotten along well with Moody, but at the moment he wanted to cut off the man’s balls. Without witnesses, it would be Lesley’s testimony against Moody’s. Due to his rank, Moody’s words carried more weight.

The bulk of the small toy in his pocket reminded him that he could not trust Lesley. He knew nothing about her. What she had told him so far could be a pack of lies. Her fight with Moody could be part of some larger plan—one that involved Harlan’s own downfall.

He could not discipline or dismiss Moody without cause. To prove Lesley’s innocence, he needed witnesses. Moody’s accusations would force Harlan to discipline Lesley severely, but she could not be flogged for that would reveal her identity and prove his undoing.

He could not put her in the hold either, for the other prisoners would surely discover her sex.

When a knock came at the door, Harlan tensed. He drew out his dirk and edged closer to the cabin’s entrance. “Who is it?”

“Gilroy.”

Harlan slid the dirk back into its holder at the old man’s hushed reply. “Enter.”

Gilroy glided in noiselessly as if his feet never touched the floor. “I have brought a poultice.” The scents of vinegar and herbs filled the small cabin.

“Did you witness the fight?” Harlan asked.

“A very odd thing happened. It came to me in a dream. I had nodded off—”

“Where were you?”

“
On orlop deck. I sat down for a moment to list the dead, but weariness overtook me ... and I dreamed of Lesley.”

Lesley lifted her head. One eye had swollen shut. Harlan’s fury burned white hot.

“Moody is a pervert.” Lesley told the old man.

“He is ruled by his passions.” Gilroy soothed as he turned her head to one side. “Ach. This will take time to heal.”

“Lesley refused his order.” Harlan paced in the cabin.

“
An excellent decision,” said the doctor.

“Why would he want me in his cabin? He’s a creep.” Lesley
’s voice wavered.

Harlan clamped his jaw together. He could not guarantee he would leave her untouched. He wanted her—in every way a man wants a woman. Even if she was a witch or a demon.

If she took him to hell with her what did it matter? As a pirate, he would certainly wind up there in any event.

Could he blame Moody for what he had done? No doubt, he had been tempted by her sorcery as well.

“If Moody accuses Lesley of assault, I have few options.” He hated seeing the fear in her eyes, but the ship had become egalitarian. “Every man has a vote in all events of the moment.”

“It would not serve him to admit that Lesley laid him low.” Gilroy spoke in a near whisper.

Harlan considered the old man’s advice. “Yes, perhaps I can persuade him to let this incident pass.”

“It’s a good thing I did not have a knife for I would have stabbed him with it.” Bitter wrath laced her tone.

Her voice affected him with an unusual intensity, tugging at him as if a thin thread had wound itself around his heart. Yet he knew any association between them would be perilous. He fought for mastery over his emotions and won because the truth persisted. He knew nothing about her. He would be a fool to trust her. She could plunge a knife into him if she had a chance.

There must be a connection between her and Elsbeth. At the end, Elsbeth hated him. She had sworn her revenge upon him and vowed to come back to make his life a misery.

Could Lesley be Elsbeth in disguise? Or was she a wraith--a vaporous spirit sent to taunt and tempt him?

As Gilroy placed a poultice on the side of Lesley’s face, a thunderous knock came at the door.

“Hand over that wretched cabin boy!” Moody’s voice roared. Without waiting for a reply, the first mate shoved the door open and stepped into the cabin.

Harlan whipped out his pistols and aimed them at the angry intruder. “The boy stays here.”

“Insubordination must be cured by the lash.” Moody surged forward.

Harlan cocked the pistols. “I cannot miss at this distance. If you take one more step forward, you will be dead. I will tell the crew you
took to buggery.”

Moody’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I can accuse you of the same.

“Not with two bullet holes in your head.” Harlan did not move a single muscle.

Moody shook with rage but he did not step forward. “Where did you pick up that mutinous urchin? You never mentioned how he came to be on board this ship.”

“Gilroy found the lad. Now get out of my cabin.”

“You bastard.” The first mate spat out, “You will pay for this
.” He left the cabin, slamming the door on his way out.

Harlan stared at the door for a minute as the sweat beaded on his forehead. Could he ever trust Moody again?

Slowly, he lowered the pistols. Moving to the door, he latched it. His gaze slid to the looking glass hanging above the chest. Would a wraith appear in a mirror? He lifted it off the hook and held it in front of Lesley. Her image appeared, whole and complete.

“Dammit.” She moaned when she glanced at her swollen and distorted features. “Have you got a mask I could wear?”

Gilroy guessed Harlan’s intent and shook his head. “We do not know how Lesley came to be here, but she is not a ghost, cap’n. Her soul and body are one. She must have nourishment, warmth and air—the same as you or I.”

Harlan put the mirror back on the hook. “Tell us your history,
” he demanded.

She cleared her throat and drew in a great deal of air. Her fingers drummed against the desk.
“You won’t understand it.”

“That matters not.” Harlan barely comprehended most of what she said as it was
.

“
Okay, you asked for it. I came from the year 2011, but it’s not my fault that I’m here. I am not a witch. I don’t want to be here. I hate it here.” The quiver in her voice twisted something painful inside him.

The doctor became animated. “2011
. You are from the future. Perhaps, the lightning changed the continuum of time. What a wondrous discovery. You must tell me more.”

“Moody knocked her senseless.” Harlan circled his temples with his fingers.

“I am telling the truth. Something went wrong ... my car spun and the lightning hit ... and I am here. Can you send me back?” She grabbed the doctor’s sleeve with desperation in her voice.

“I do not know, child.” Gilroy tapped his chin. “I supp
ose I must find more spoons. Surely, they will have some in New Providence.”

Lesley dropped her hand from his sleeve. “I think it will take more than spoons to send me back.”

“Yes, yes. The process must be reversed. I will have to ponder this.” The doctor’s brow furrowed. “But for now, you should rest. We will have more time to discuss your situation once we arrive in New Providence.” He unlatched the door and went out.

Harlan firmly fastened the latch once more. He would need to use extreme care from now on.

An unusual flash of warmth came from the pocket against his hip. He shoved his hand into it and just as quickly recoiled from the heat emanating from the wooden pony. Grabbing a neckerchief, he wrapped it around the toy and drew it out.

The small wooden toy gleamed brightly in the dim cabin. His heart constricted in horror.

A gasp came from Lesley. She reached out for it. “My little toy horse. I was holding it when ... and you’ve found it.”

He did not hand it over. “It is not yours. I carved this for my son. Where did you get it? What curse have you whispered that causes it to gleam?”

“You carved it?”

Carefully, he used the neckerchief to turn it around so he could show the initials to her. “My son’s name was Josiah. Where did you find it? Why did you have it with you?” He ground out each question. He would not abide by any falsehoods.

“I bought a cradle at an antique shop on Route 13—on the Delmarva peninsula. I had wanted a child for so long ... and Jim ... well, he had his baby in the marina—a boat. He wanted nothing to do with children. Anyhow, when I brought the cradle home I found the horse inside, wrapped in the quilt.”

As usual, he understood very few of her words, but a deep sadness lingered in her tone and touched a chord within him. He sensed she had been truthful.

“My son ... he was a great joy to me.” As he said the words, the pony cooled in his hand. He caressed it with his fingers, but it brought back all the sad memories with it and he could barely contain his emotions as the sweet face of his son misted his eyes.

He handed the toy to her.

“Do you suppose I wound up here because I was carrying this?”

“Are you related to Elsbeth?”

“Who?”

“My wife.”

“The one who died?”

“You bear a remarkable resemblance to her.”

“How could I possibly be related to someone who died in the 1700s?” She clutched the pony to her chest. “And for your information, nobody names their kid Elsbeth anymore in 2011.”