Uncaged (3 page)

             
Her body shuddered involuntarily, recovering from heavy sobbing. “I’m the only woman aboard. And you are?”

             
He’d nearly forgotten. “Bruce Remington.”

             
She presented her hand for his kiss. “I’m Wren Whittier,” she replied in a half whisper.

             
Her tear stained face shone in the moonlight. A single tear dribbled over her lips and she licked at it. The man groaned out loud and then feigned a cough. Her scent was overpowering. Something akin to gardenias and sunshine. He’d forgotten how terribly enticing a female could be. Even in the darkness he could tell she was of mulatto descent. It made him wonder why she was on this voyage at all. Back in
London
she’d be treated like a second class citizen or worse. She was perhaps the captain’s maid or servant. 

             
She shuddered again, making him want to wrap his arms around her to protect her from the wind or her troubles or both. He couldn’t help it. She seemed too distraught and she was so utterly beautiful. He noticed her piercing blue eyes, a rarity for sure. He had never seen a more glorious mixed creature in all his days. Her luxurious black hair dipped to her slender waist, blowing in the wind, mingling with the scarlet ribbon that tied above her bottom. Full, mois
t lips parted when she spoke.

             
“What troubles you so?” he asked, taking a seat on the crate alongside her.

             
Her lip quivered. Without thinking he brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. She blinked and then shrugged. “I don’t want to trouble you with my plight.”

             
“You’re no trouble at all. I long to converse with someone other than a salty sailor,” he said swallowing. Now her scent had inched into his brain, making it hard to think. It had been hard enough to fi
nd the English words.
He shook his head to clear his mind. “Tell me your ills and I’ll share mine. I warrant you I’m good company.”

             
That forced a smile from her lips and another sniff. Her shuddering had slowed. “My father is the captain of this ship. Lars Whittier.”

             
He watched as her face changed from sadness to bitter hatred. Tight lips stretched across her perfect, white teeth as she spit out her next words. “He’s a madman. An evil man with no care or concern for others.”

             
He wondered if her father beat her. This he had to know. “Does he hurt you, miss?”

             
She shook her head. Anger flashed in her blue eyes. “Not me. My mother. He’d grown tired of her. You don’t know?”

             
The man shook his head. He sensed her distrust  and had yet to devise an explanation for himself. “I just joined the expedition in
Africa
. I needed a ride back,” though he wasn’t sure where they were headed, he guessed it to be
England
by the woman’s accent. He knew he’d have to feign ignorance for the happenings on the ship as well as the expedition they were returning from. He knew nothing of what occurred in
Africa
other than his own capture.

             
She eyed him through narrowed lids.  “Then you
don’t
know. My father caused a terrible scene. Even the other men begged him not to do it. My mother was sold back into slavery, just before we boarded. They had quarreled. My father had threatened her before. He had said her tongue would get her into trouble one day. There was a slave auction on the wharf. He did it without thinking. I begged him. He pushed me away. I begged to be sold alongsi
de her. His men held me back.
I watched her board a cart as if she were an animal.”

             
The tears began again and she hid her face in her hands. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled her to him, already hating Lars Whittier. How could he do this to his own flesh and blood? Have his own daughter watch her mother sold back into slavery and taken
away from her, perhaps forever?
It only gave him more reason to despise man. They were selfish creatures, caring only for money or objects that money could purchase. Even women were objects to most of them. Animals cared more for their mates than these vile creatures. Her tears wet his strong shoulders as he pet her long hair, soothing her like a child.

             
His insides curled upon themselves, tightening into a knot as realization set in. He was far from home, soon to be in a foreign land, a land he vowed to never return to as a creature he never wanted to become again, but now he was trapped. He wanted to meet this Lars Whittier. He’d love to tear out his throat, but now he was a man. He could play men’s games, though he detested them. Now all he longed to do was protect this woman and help her. In the meantime he’d have to pretend to have boarded the ship with permission, though the captain had no idea he was aboard. He didn’t think it would be too hard to blend in, not with a jungle cat missing aboard a ship.

Chapter 2

             
Bruce woke up beneath a tattered sail, tucked beneath
the shadow of a giant mast.
The sun was just beginning to inch over the horizon when the deck filled with men, many of them half dressed and bootless. He knew Lars Whittier by the man’s age and his presence. He had cut a path straight through the men. At least the captain was fully dressed, though he’d forgotten to rake a comb through his wiry, gray hair.

             
“Who was last on watch?” the captain yelled.

             
Not one foot shuffled on deck. The only sounds were the cry of a lone sea gull passing overhead and the lapping of the waves on the sides of the ship.

             
The captain paced, eyeing his men. “Speak up, you bloody fools! A damn lion doesn’t just disappear from his cage!”

             
The lanky sailor Bruce had seen last night stepped forward. “Aye, it was me, Cap’n.”

             
With two slits for eyes, furrowed beneath bushy white brows, the captain stalked toward the sailor who already held his head down as if preparing for a tongue lashing. “Look at me, lad!”

             
The young man’s head snapped up. Bruce thought he saw him shaking as he clasped both  hands around the barrel of his rifle. The poor sailor was only dressed in skivvies, long red skivvies only buttoned half way. “Did you check in on the beast last night?”

             
The man looked from the captain to the deck.

             
“Look at me!” the captain bellowed.

             
The sailor kept his head down, but raised his eyes. Bruce was now positively certain that the lad was shaking. His rifle was knocking against the deck.

             
“Pray tell me you checked on the bloody beast!”

The sailor shook his head. Bruce thought the captain’s head might blo
w off.
He’d never seen a face so beet red. He looked more like a purple onion than a man with such a mess of scr
aggly white hair blowing about.

             
“Step forward if you were on watch last night!”

             
Not one soul moved.

             
“Now!”

             
Four men stepped forward, all of them just as frightened as the previous sailor.

             
“Which of you checked in on the beast while on watch?”

             
None of them answered.

             
“None of you? Do I have a crew of complete bloody fools? Who saw the cage loaded?”

             
One sailor spoke up. “I saw the beast as it was being hauled on deck.”

             
“Did you help load it?”

             
“No, Cap’n. Some slaves hauled him on board.”

             
“Has anyone checked in on the cat since we set sail?”

             
Bruce enjoyed the show, particularly since the
beast
was himself and had outsmarted everyone on board. No one answered the captain. Not one person had checked on the cat and only one claimed to see him carried on deck.

             
“Well there’s no sense in prolonging this any further. Clearly, the cat was left behind. I don’t know what you saw, bloke but it wasn’t a caged beast. It was likely an empty cage. We’d have known by now if the cat was loose.”

             
The captain paced, stopping only to scratch his head and to eye the ocean as if he were looking for something out in the vast, blue waters. The half dressed sailors watched and waited as the ship rocked to and fro.

             
The captain broke the silence, twirling around to face his men. “I wouldn’t put it past the scoundrels to load ’im and then replace ’im with an empty cage the night before we set sail. I’ll take part of the blame but not bloody all of it! We hunted that beast down and caught ’im fair and square. They stole ’im from under our noses and now they’ll get more than a shilling for their efforts. We don’t have enough rations to go back, but we’ll return soon. We’ll get the cat back and the head of the men who took ‘im, mark me words!”

             
Bruce seethed. They would never cage him again and if he had anything to do with it, they would never touch another cat, whether it be a shiftie like himself or his brother.

             
Ye gods!
He’d never thought of that.
My brother could be next!

             
“Back to work!” the captain hollered.

             
No one noticed Bruce. His half naked body blended in with the other men who had been rushed out of bed. He would lay low all day, even work as a shipmate if he had to and tonight he would look for the woman. He would ask her how long until they reached land and learn all he could about the expedition.

~*~

             
Bruce fell asleep, hidden between two hefty crates near the northern deck, where the shadows grew longer and blacker. He even managed to steal a loaf of bread and some ale. The first time in ages since he had eaten something other than raw meat. The alcohol quickly took effect, lulling him into a deep sleep, but something roused him, something delicate and enticing.

             
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with thick thumbs. The black night sky was scattered with millions of twinkling stars. He sniffed and then smiled. The woman was near. Her scent wafted through the sea air like honeysuckle dancing on the wind. She stood overlooking the bow of the ship. Her skirt whipped around her dainty ankles. She was barefoot. Never had Bruce known a naked pair of feet to look so erotic. A deep throated growl emanated from within. He shook his head in an effort to yield the wild creature within. Luckily the wind masked the noise. Rising and stretching, he made his way to her side, stomping across deck to alert her of his coming. He didn’t want to startle her and cause her to cry out. She turned when she heard him approach, greeting him with a half smile, her lips curved on one side.

             
“Good evening, sir,” she said, turning to face him fully.   

             
His eye caught the gleam of a topaz pendant, nestled between her full breasts. His cock stiffened at the sight, pushing against his newly acquired breeches. Breeches that suited his size perfectly, until now. He took her hand and kissed it. The scent of her burnished skin drove him mad with desire. He shut his eyes.

             
“Out for another smoke, sir?”

             
“Aye. I couldn’t sleep. Are you feeling better today, miss?”

             
“A bit. Thanks to you for inquiring,” she
said, barely above a whisper.
“Father is in a tizzy. All the fuss about the caged beast never setting sail with us.”

             
Bruce smiled. A sweaty lock of his long, blond hair fluttered ag
ainst his sun burnt forehead.
He worked on deck all day, pretending to be a crewmate. He even helped repair a torn sail. No one had been the wiser.

             
Bruce grunted. “Don’t see how a beast that size could be carried off without notice. Sounds an oddity for certain.”

             
“Father says the slaves must have taken him back off the ship the night before we set sail.”

             
“Does he really think they went to all that trouble and then carried an empty cage back on board?”

             
“Aye, sir. A lion will fetch a pretty price. He’d make a fine attraction at the fair, bringing in loads of money. The slaves most likely took him back to their master while the cat was still full of sleeping potion. There was never no need to carry back an empty cage. Now the master can sell him for whatever price he wants. According to Father, they tracked that particular beast for weeks before catching him.”