A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (4 page)

“I want to go check on my father,” Hannah insisted.
“I…”

“Doc
will watch your father. I have questions I need answered.”

Hannah slunk deeper into her chair.
Her stomach twisted into a square knot. “But I…”

The Captain
’s jaw twitched. “That’s not a choice. I want to know what happened last night. Your cargo, your destination, why did the
Fiery Damsel
attack you?” The Captain leaned back in his chair. “Lie to me and you’re dead.”

Kane waited for the lad to answer.
He was a fool if he thought Kane would not hesitate to use brute force to get the answers he needed.

The lad stared at his uneaten food on the table,
then lifted his head and sat taller in his chair. “I don’t know why we were attacked.”

Kane rubbed his chin.
“So, you believe the attack was by chance?”

“Yes, they were pirates.
Pirates don’t need a reason to attack.”

“Not the
Fiery Damsel
,” Kane growled.

“Maybe
’twas a mistake,” he said. 

The lad’s hands twitched.
Glowering, Kane grabbed the lad’s arm and yanked him off the chair. “Be warned, I can make you talk. I tell you true. Tell me what happened last night.” He shook the lad and the boy sucked in his breath.  His huge brown eyes stared at him and he trembled beneath Kane’s hand.

Kane hardened his voice, “Palmer was questioning your crew for a reason.
I want to know why. He never questions his prey.”

“Palmer?”

“Quinton Palmer is the Captain of the
Fiery Damsel
. Almost seven feet, red hair, long beard. Any of this ring true?”

The lad pulled on his arm, but Kane held firm.
He could smell the lad’s hot sweat of fear, but there was no turning back, not with his crew’s safety at stake. He released the lad and stormed over to another table and snatched up a cat o’ tails. He had hoped not to have to use the whip, but his patience had run out. “I need to hunt down Palmer and I want you to listen very carefully, lad.”

He snapped the whip twice.
The air cracked.

The lad swallowed and his face paled.
  His brown eyes widened. The lad gasped. “I swear…”

“You don’t know anything?” Kane finished.
“Are you asking me to doubt my own eyes?”

“I
...I...I am telling the truth.” The lad insisted, but his eyes shifted and he licked his soft lips. He was lying.

As if by magic, the
coffee pot flew across the table and fell over the edge, crashing onto the floor and nearly hitting Kane’s boot. Hot coffee splashed onto Kane’s hand and thigh, scalding his skin.

Kane yanked his hand and gritted his teeth. “Bloody hell.” 

The lad scurried behind his chair.

Kane snatched a cloth off the table and dabbed his hand.
“How did you manage that, lad?”

“
Manage what?”

Kane nodded at the turned over pot.
“You made the pot move by itself. Do you practice black magic? Or you in league with the demon Zuto?”

“No, I don
’t practice black magic and I don’t pray to demons,” the lad whispered. “Please believe me.” 

Kane laid the cloth down.
Before the lad could bolt, Kane’s fingers bit into the lad’s shoulder and he cried out. The last time magic ventured onto his crew, the demon Zuto cursed them. Sweet Mother of God, he’d never put his crew in danger again.

If the demon
Zuto had a hold on the lad, he’d discover it. The lad would tell him. All mercy fled. 

Kane stood
, ignoring the pain in his hand and picked up the whip.

The lad covered his mouth.
“No, I’ll…”

Kane gritted his teeth. Could he be a worse bastard? But the lad left him little choice, his crew’s life was at stake. He would not fail them again. He hardened his voice. “Be warned, I can make you talk. Savvy?”

“I don
’t know what you want me to say,” the lad muttered.

“The t
ruth for one,” Kane growled.

He had enough of the lad’s lies.
He released the lad and shoved the dishes aside on the table. The lad raced for the door.

“Leave me alone,” he cried.
His hand reached the doorknob.

Kane easily overtook
him, seizing him by the shirt and dragging him back to the table. The lad slapped and kicked, hitting Kane’s arms and shins with painful accuracy. Lying to the Captain warranted punishment. One he’d dole out personally.

He slammed the lad face down on the wooden table, pinning his neck with his hand, pushing his knee between the lad’s thighs
and the lad cried out. Ignoring the lad’s whimpers, he ripped his shirt down his back and grabbed his whip.

Hi
s eyes widened. A large wool bandage wrapped around the lad’s upper back, emphasizing the narrow waist that led down to curvy hips.

“Bloody hell,” Kane muttered.
Could it be? Could this be a lass? Damn.

“Let me go,” the lad struggled.
 

Kane
stared at two creamy shoulders. On the lad’s lower back, new red welts and discolored bruises marred the soft skin. “What the devil?”

He removed his knee and took his hand off the la
ss’s neck. She started to dart away but Kane seized her arm and whirled her around and ripped her shirt the rest of the way off. The white bandage bound two ample breasts, which were now just peeking out. Perspiration trickled down the lass’s throat, pooling into a fine wetness between her straining mounds. A flattened tummy and womanly curves sent Kane’s senses reeling. An ache long denied rose within him.

“Jaaysus
.”

His cheeks heated and he groaned at the thick
-arse remark. How could he be so daft?

Her chest heaved.
He raised his head tearing his gaze away from her breasts and stared into her deep brown eyes. Her face flushed. She moistened her rosy supple lips and tilted her chin. Now that he could see her, really see her, the lassie was beautiful, more beautiful than the Irish morning sun shining on the damp meadows filled with purple northern-march orchids.

She narrowed
her doe eyes. “Like what you see, Captain?”

Although she defied him with her strong voice,
she trembled beneath him.

“Aye, I do, lass.
I do,” he whispered.

He ran his finger down her cheek and a tear slid over
it. “So, what now Captain?” The lass whispered.

Her eyes glistened
with pools of fear. 

He breathed heav
ily, his blood thumping through him. Her soft female scent him on fire. His cock hardened and he wanted her. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, not the whores, with their heavy flowery perfumes, hands all over him and coarse laughter. This one, she was vulnerable, at his mercy.

The monster within him urged him to tear her clothes, free her am
ple breasts and bury himself inside her feminine folds. He tightened his grip on her wrists. Closing his eyes, he steadied his breathing and released her.

The lass stayed still, her breath raspy.
He opened his eyes and stood. Her torn shirt hung off her shoulders, reminding Kane of what he was—a monster, a fiend, a sea devil.

He yanked his shirt off.

“No, please, don’t,” she begged.

He stepped back and held his shirt in his hand.
“Here, lass, take it. Now.”

She glanced at his shirt and up at him.
Mistrust mirrored in those eyes. Could he blame her?

“
Take it. Now. Before ’tis too late.”

Hands
shaking, she took his shirt, quietly slipping it on. Her fingers bunched the bottom of the fabric into a tight ball. She lowered her gaze and stared at the floor.

He edged backward.
The lass retreated to the chair and hung her head. He wanted to loosen her queue, have her brown tresses cascade down her back and run his fingers through her thick locks. “What’s your name, lass?”

Her whisper bearable, she answered, “Hannah.”

“Hannah?”

Tears splashed onto her
breeches. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, chase away her fears, but he still needed answers. His crew depended on it.  

“Hannah, Hannah Knight.”

Kane ran his hand through his hair.

Could it be?
He tilted his head toward the door. “Your father?”

She lifted her head and stared at the door.
“Yes.” She sighed. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He itched to wipe it away, but kept his hands at his side.

“His name?”

She winced.

His voice came out harsher than he wanted.
His tone softer, he repeated, “His name?”

“Justin.
Captain Justin Knight of the
Dolphin
.”

***

Hannah bit her lip
at the anger storming in the captain’s green eyes. The soft glow of the lanterns glistened on his sculpted muscles on his naked chest. He tightened his fists. She sucked in her breath. Was he going to beat her? Why had his demeanor change?

He had offered her his shirt.
What kind of pirate does that? Didn’t they rape and torture women? 

Hannah clutched her shirt tighter.
His masculine scent of sandalwood, mixed with salt, encased her like a comforting blanket. Even still, her stomach churned in waves and her heartbeat thundered. She refused to cower instead raising her eyes and meeting his deadly gaze.

“Has your father
sailed this way before?”

She could barely hear hi
m, but his malice for her father was embedded in every word. She frowned. “Yes, why? My uncle’s the Governor of Saint Kitts and we were headed there.”

“Does the name Palmer mean anything to you?”

Kane growled the name, hate oozing from his voice.

“Palmer?
No, why should it? I don’t know why he pursued us.” She tilted her chin. “My father’s ship was a merchant ship and had limited arms. The
Dolphin
was designed for trade, not battle. My father and his crew tried to outmaneuver them, but they came upon us too fast.”

“So what was your cargo?”

“My dowry.”

“Your dowry?”

“Yes,” she whispered.
“My father was taking me to marry my betrothed.”

“His name?”

She blinked. “Why do you want to know his name?”

He towered over her and she leaned her back against the chair, trying to melt into it.
She did it again, pushing a man to his very limits. When would she learn?

Hi
s fingers grabbed her chin and he tilted it up. She was surprised at his gentleness. Despite his tenderness, he could easily hurt her. Whip her into answering his questions. Chills cascaded down her spine and her hands tightened on her shirt. She peered into his commanding eyes, his dark lashes outlining them, deepening them. “His name?”

His soft voice and tender touch propelled her.
“Jacques D’Aubigne. He’s a plantation owner in Saint Kitts.”

He dropped his hand.
“Bloody hell.”

“Do you know him?
By your tone, I take it you don’t like him.”

Refusing to answer her, his eyes clouded and his hand shook.
“Tell me what just happened.”

She frowned.
“Happened?”

“The pot,” he demanded.
“Are you a witch?”

Hannah bit her cheek
. Tell him the truth? The Captain and his crew were a suspicious lot. They’d kill her for sure. She shook her head. “No, I’m not a witch. Just a mere woman.”

He snorted and grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

“I do
n’t know how the pot moved. I swear I did nothing.”

“Are you in league with Zuto?”

She blinked. “No, you keep bringing up his name. Who is he?”

“Zuto’
s a powerful demon sent from Coaybay.”

“I do
n’t understand. What’s Coaybay?”

“Coaybay is part of the Underworld.”

“I still…”

He ran his hand through his thick hair.
“Zuto doesn’t work for Satan if that’s what you’re thinking. His god is Maketabori, the God of the Underworld. Maketabori sent Zuto to Earth to curse a lake on an uncharted island.”

He ran his fingers down her arm and she shivered.
What was it about this man?

“Tell me about last night.”

Her hands trembled and her stomach twisted into double knots as the horror of the night before washed over her. “I thought they were pirates,” she said, “but they were…were...”

“You’d never seen the likes of them before?”

She shook her head. “No. They were vicious. Evil. Demonic.”

“’Tis
important,” he urged. “Go on,” he whispered, his voice husky.

“They had red eyes and they attacked the crew…”
She wiped her moist cheeks. Her crew’s scream echoed in her ears. “The crew fought bravely, but the pirates would not die…”