Gregory, Lisa (16 page)

The
captain's main worry was time. The fishing vessel was slow, and he needed to
put distance between him and his pursuers. The civilian workers should not
arrive for another half-hour. Then there would be the time it took to speculate
and then ask questions. Time to work through natural channels back up to
Devereaux. He would notify the Navy of the disappearance of his ship and
daughter, and then the Naval Department would take a while to determine its
course of action, and then they would sail, hopefully southward. Surely an hour
to two hours' head start. And if he had thrown them off with his directional
trick, longer than that. How long would it take them to realize that he must
have changed course? With luck, he would find a faster ship before they found
him. And then he would sail for England. He needed a real warship, swift, with
both steam and sail, and, most of all, armed. When his ship was captured, he
had been on his way to England to take command of a new battleship. Perhaps it
was still waiting for him. If not, he would at least be able to contact his
government and receive instructions on obtaining another ship.

He
looked around at his crew with deep satisfaction. For a crew unused to each
other and a long time not at sea, they were performing very well. No ship in
sight on the horizon. It appeared that he could leave them for a while to
release Katherine from her bonds. Whistling softly, he strode toward his cabin.

Katherine,
meanwhile, had managed to recover her wits; she was not the sort to allow
herself to remain dazed. Forcing herself to examine her situation calmly, she
came to the conclusion that the prisoners had at last executed a long-prepared
escape plan and that she had been taken hostage. It sounded like just the sort
of thing that awful Hampton would do. No doubt he hoped that with the young,
genteel daughter of a rich and influential man on board, the Navy would be
reluctant to fire when they caught up with them. Perhaps he even planned to
bargain with them, to release her if they allowed him to escape. Her mind shied
away from the idea of what he could do to her in the meantime, having her
completely in his power as he did.

Sternly
she commanded herself not to dwell on such nonsense, but to think and plan what
she should do. She must be calm and clear-headed and do everything she could to
impede Hampton and aid the Navy in capturing him. "Logical," she told
herself, "be logical and fair." She must not let her dislike of him spoil
her judgment. He was a very good sailor and quite adept at chases; undoubtedly
he had used some evasive maneuvers that would delay the pursuers. And he would
have the advantage of time; probably no one would even notice anything was
wrong until the regular workers arrived. So Hampton probably had a good hour's
head start. But even so, he could not escape them long. This was not a raider,
not even a swift-sailing clipper. It simply could not outrun the Navy's sleek,
fast vessels. Surely it was only a matter of hours until they were caught.

And
when the Navy reached them, there could be no battle; the Rebel ship had no
cannon. Their only hope would be in using her as a bargaining factor. Well,
there they would be in for a little surprise: her father was not the sort to
use his influence to urge the military to treat the captain more easily because
his daughter was the enemy's hostage. No, he was a fighter; it was from him
that much of her stubborn attitude came. He would more likely urge them to
fight. But still the Navy would probably be reluctant to refuse to bargain for
the life and honor of a young lady. It seemed to her, therefore, that she must
do two things: attempt to delay and slow this ship and also try to escape or
somehow negate her usefulness as a hostage. But how? Particularly bound and
gagged as she was.

He
had said he would return and release her. If she were to fight him, to scream
and struggle, it would keep him occupied, and without him on deck, surely, the
crew would be more inefficient, wouldn't react to any emergency as well as he.
That could possibly slow them down, but not for very long. And she would
quickly be retied and gagged and once again totally ineffectual when she might
be really needed. No, the thing to do was to talk to him, argue, plead,
anything to take up as much of his time as possible. Get him to let her move
about, where she could try some sabotage if the possibility were presented, get
herself in a position where she could be useful if the occasion arose.

She
heard heavy footsteps outside the door, and her heart began to race. He was
coming! Everything in her tightened for battle with him. He walked in and
paused to look at her, taking in at once the fact that there was no fear in
her. She simply sat on the floor, looking up at him mutinously. Smiling, he
shook his head in admiration; you had to give her credit for bravery. Although
he didn't know it, she had felt a sharp, quickly stifled stab of fear at the
sight of his long, lean body in the doorway. With the sun behind him, he had
seemed dark, featureless, evil. Then he had stepped inside and she could see
his clear, handsome features, including his lazy, infuriating grin, and anger
flared in her.

He
squatted beside her and untied her gag, taking the cloth out of her mouth. Her
mouth was so dry that she couldn't speak and so she glared at him impotently.
He chuckled quietly.

"I
am sorry, my pet, but I simply did not have the time to reason with you, so I
had to take more drastic measures. You may scream if you want, of course, but
we are at open sea and there is no one to hear you but my crew—all enemies, I'm
afraid. I will also untie you and let you have the freedom of the ship since,
as you no doubt realize, there is no way you can escape."

"You
are insane!" she managed to croak. He just smiled and set to work on the
rope binding her wrists. "You cannot possibly hope to escape in this
tub."

"But
of course not."

"Then
why are you doing this! They're bound to capture you, and you know it will go
much harder for you and your men this time."

"There
is that risk," he agreed thoughtfully, and she realized that he was
teasing her.

"You're
insufferable!" she snapped. "I try to speak to you reasonably and you
refuse, as if I were a child."

"Don't
worry about my plans, my dear. Believe me, I have thought of the consequences,
and I will take the course that seems best."

She
curled her lip contemptuously. "Well, if you plan to use me as a hostage,
I can guarantee you that it won't work. My father is not such a pudding-heart
as to urge the Navy to let you escape in order to save me. Nor is the Navy
likely to. They will blow you out of the water even though I am on board."

"Is
the U.S. Navy that unchivalrous? To try to kill a young maiden, abandon her to
a cruel fate, just to capture a minor villain?" He shook his head in mock
despair, his gray eyes dancing with mirth. "Grandmama Soames will feel
quite vindicated; she always said that the only person more ungentlemanly than
I was a Yankee."

"You
and your Grandmama Soames!" Katherine said furiously. "Don't you
realize how much harsher you will be treated for trying to use me as a
hostage?"

"Don't
worry about that, dear," he said, a wicked smile lighting his face.
"I have no intention of making you a hostage."

"Then
why on earth have you brought me along?"

His
smile widened and he softly traced the delicate lines of her face. "Why,
to comfort me during the empty hours at sea."

Her
eyes widened in shocked disbelief. "You can't be serious. You brought me
along to—to—"

"Umm.
To make love to you. To rape you. However you want to express it. You see? You
are my cherished possession, not something to hide behind." He leaned
forward to kiss her, but she scrambled away.

"I
am not your possession, nor anyone's!" she hissed furiously. "You
vile, wretched, abominable—"

"Please,
you'll turn my head with all your compliments."

"How
really low you are—to take a woman from her home, her family, her fiancé, and
force her to submit to your filthy—"

"Come
now, it's not so bad; you might even find you like it."

"Like
it! Your touch makes my skin crawl."

"There
have been times when you have not seemed so averse to it."

"How
dare you throw that up to me! I despise you, and I despise myself for letting
you touch me that day. I only did it because—because I was angry with William
and wanted to get even with him. I hated every moment of it."

"Did
you now?" His voice was soft, but with a hint of steel beneath it.
Suddenly his hand whipped out and grasped the back of her neck like a vise,
holding her face immobile. "I am sorry, for your sake, that you have such
a revulsion for me. For I intend to have you, anyway. It's been far too long
since I have had a woman; you shan't deny me my pleasure. I plan to keep you
with me, and I plan to take you, wherever and whenever I desire you. Don't
waste your breath appealing to my better nature; I don't have one."

He
pulled her to him and kissed her roughly. She tried to pull away, but his iron
grip held her head motionless. His kiss was long and thorough, as if he were
putting his stamp, his seal upon her, demonstrating his possession of her.

"Shall
I begin now?" he said. Then, glancing around the bare room, "I'm
afraid we could not wait until my cabin was furnished. Of course the floor
would serve our purpose well enough." He smiled into her stormy eyes.
"But I'm afraid you'll have to wait, my pet. As close as your friends are,
I am needed on deck almost constantly. Don't despair, though; it won't be too
long."

Almost
casually he rose and swept her an elegant bow, then walked out the door. She
longed to storm after him and scream her hatred of him, but she controlled
herself. More than ever, she needed to keep a cool head. It was imperative now
that the Navy catch them as quickly as possible. If she could just fend him off
until then, she would be safe. She needed to delay them so the Navy could
rescue her, and that could be done by keeping him below decks. But by keeping
him off the deck, she would be risking the very thing she wished to avoid.
Perhaps she could lock herself in; she flew to the door, then slumped in
disappointment—the locks had not been installed yet And there was no furniture
with which to bar the door. She could hide, but there were very few places to
hide on board ship, and she would be found quickly. But at least that would
give her a little more time for the Navy to arrive; it was certainly a
possibility as a last resort. The thing for her to do, she decided, was to go
up on deck and scout. He would be unlikely to attack her in plain view of
everyone. She could see how swiftly they were traveling, how well the men
worked. There she could look for a place to hide and note whatever she could
use to advantage later. Feeling full of purpose, she retrieved her muff. As she
slipped her hands into it, she suddenly remembered the squat little pistol
inside it; in her excitement, she had forgotten all about it.

"Thank
God for you, William," she whispered, drawing the little gun out of its
pocket. Suddenly she felt braver, more secure. Here was her real last resort.
When he attacked her, she would face him with a weapon in her hand. No doubt he
thought he was dealing with a silly, faint-hearted female. Well, he would
discover differently. She could not kill him, of course; she could never kill
anyone. But she could threaten him with it, and if he persisted, well—she
smiled grimly—she thought she could manage to wound him. Right now, more than
anything, she would like to choke him or hit him with her fists. In fact, the
idea of doing him bodily harm filled her with morbid delight.

How
she hated that man! He had insulted her, threatened her, abused her—but this
was the crowning blow! To abduct her and rape her! She would be ruined forever,
unable to face society again. William, indeed no man, would marry her with her
honor so tarnished. She slipped the gun back into its hiding place and
determinedly left the room.

Maintaining
what she hoped was an air of calm, she strolled around the deck. There wasn't a
ship on the horizon in any direction. She looked around at the men; they appeared
to be good sailors, each busy at his tasks and instantly obedient to commands.
The captain was getting every ounce of speed out of the ship that she was
capable of. Katherine sighed. She wasn't dealing with amateurs; in fact, the
only amateur on board was herself. How could she ever hope to outwit them, to
singlehandedly delay them?

"Miss
Devereaux," said a cultured voice behind her. "May I take a turn
around the deck with you?"

She
turned to see Ensign Fortner. "Why, Mr. Fortner, that's very nice of you.
But aren't you needed?"

"An
ensign, ma'am, is probably the least useful man aboard ship." he smiled.
"Most of the time I just relay orders. And I keep an eye on the men, which
I can do just as easily with you on my arm."

"That
doesn't say much for my ability to distract one, does it?" she smiled.

"Oh,
ma'am, I didn't mean that," the young man spluttered, his face turning a
deep red.

"Never
mind. I long ago faced the fact that I was not the sort to turn heads,"
she said, amused at his embarrassment, and took his arm.