Lady Vixen (7 page)

Nicole's
unruly tongue moved her to speak unwisely, as well as disrespectfully, and she
received a sharp box on the ears that left her head ringing for an hour. But
the Captain's point was well taken and she resigned herself to the monotonous
task of caring for his personal effects. Muttering under her breath that she
would have been better off as a parlormaid, Nicole gritted her teeth and set to
work. But relief from this trying set of affairs was in sight, although, again,
it wasn't precisely what she would have wished for. When he discovered by
accident that his ungrateful cabin boy could also read and write, a
circumstance that made him take a more appraising look at the boy, he promptly
put him to use in compiling legible lists of the plunder they captured. Eventually
the disgruntled Nicole found herself not only his personal servant but his
secretary as well.

In
her calmer moments she realized that had she been left with the rough crew of
La
Belle Garce,
it was doubtful her sex would have remained a secret for long,
certainly not for five years! But as the Captain's property and secretary she
was removed from close association with the men. As for the Captain, himself,
as long as she obeyed promptly, he never wasted a second glance on her. But she
sometimes wondered if he suspected her secret, and turning over on her side she
faced her companion and asked abruptly, "Allen, do you think Captain Saber
knows that I'm a girl?"

"God
in heaven, I should hope not! Your life wouldn't be worth last year's
scuttlebutt, if he did," Allen answered with unnecessary promptness.

Looking
at his dark, open face, the brown, curly hair moving slightly in the soft
breeze, Nicole questioned again his reasons for joining Captain Saber's crew.

Allen
Ballard was an enigma to Nicole. He had joined
La Belle Garce
after
deserting the British Navy less than a year ago, and she often puzzled over his
reasons for doing so. She knew little about him, but from the neatness of his
clothes and his beautiful manners, it was obvious he came from a much better
background than the majority of the crew. His air of assurance as well as his
manners and dress, indicated that he must have been an officer, so it wasn't
surprising that Saber had chosen him as second-in-command for this last
journey. Nicole had been drawn to Allen instantly. He reminded her of Giles, with
his quiet, thoughtful manner, and one of those odd shipboard bonds had sprung
up between them.

Because
they spent most of their free time in port together, it hadn't taken Allen very
long to discover that Nicole was not the slender boy she appeared.

It
had been on an occasion much like today, when he had stumbled across her lying
naked on the warm sands of a secluded little cove. At first he couldn't believe
his eyes. Nicole had instantly pleaded with him not to betray her. He hadn't
liked it, and liked it even less when she confessed, reluctantly, the whole
story. Vainly he had argued with her to let him arrange for her return to
England, to the bosom of her family, and stonily Nicole had stared back at him.
She resisted every plea he put forth, but she had noticed it was queer that he
never put forth the one argument against which she had no defense —that the
Captain would have to be told! She had often wondered why but chose not to
dwell on it.

Sometimes,
though, she suspected Allen was more than he appeared. He was inordinately
interested in all that went on in the Captain's quarters, especially his
official papers and lists of ships and cargoes taken. Nicole had thought Allen
was merely unduly involved in the profit that would be made until recently when
she had caught him searching through Saber's private papers. She had read
murder in his eyes in that instant before he recognized her, and then an odd
expression had flitted across his face—Regret? Embarrassment? Resignation?

It
was an awkward confrontation and Allen had quickly bound her to secrecy by the
simple promise that if she did not betray him, he would continue to hold his
tongue about her!

Surprisingly
it had brought them closer together, for Nicole had come a long way from the
almost worshipful manner in which she had first viewed Captain Saber. But she
didn't want to think about anything today. She wanted to enjoy these moments of
freedom and impatiently she wriggled under the scratchy feel of her rough
cotton shirt.

Normally
Nicole would have shed her clothes the moment she reached the beach. But Allen
was rather peculiar about things like that, so she was wearing an abbreviated
version of her usual clothes, the shirt tied under her high bosom and the
cotton pants cut off near the tops of her slender thighs. She had another pair
of long black pants to wear back to the ship, for no one seeing the delicately
curved long legs would have any doubt about her sex.

Rising
gracefully to her feet, she regarded the prone Allen. He was wearing much the
same costume, except his strong muscled back was bare to the heat of the sun
and there was a long seaman's knife strapped about his hard waist. No shirt for
Allen, she thought resentfully. Then her mood shifted quickly, as always, and
she asked, "Shall we dive from the rock?"

Though
Allen liked it, this particular cove was not really one of Nicole's favorites
for it possessed a brooding air that made her uneasy. Perhaps it was because of
the black volcanic rock that rose so steeply on either side, reaching out like
sinister arms, and because the lagoon was deeper than most, the water was a
dark, rather menacing blue instead of the clear azure of the coves Nicole
preferred. But it did possess a high outcropping of rock at the end of one of
the arms that made an excellent point from which to dive into the cool blue
depths.

His
blue eyes lazy, Allen murmured sleepily, "You go ahead, Nick. I'll be
there eventually."

And
so Nicole slowly climbed the rocks alone. Reaching the top, for a long minute
she stared out at the open sea, then down into the crystal blueness of the
lagoon. Here the waters were almost fifty feet deep, and the fact that there
were no hidden rocks made it ideal for diving. She glanced over her shoulder,
and seeing that Allen was at last beginning to climb to the top, she gave him a
cheerful wave and then, a graceful figure of hair flamed by the sun and long
golden legs, she dived into the water. Down she plunged and then her legs
moving in a scissorlike fashion, she propelled herself to the surface. The
water was a silken delight after the warmth of the sun, and for several minutes
she swam in lazy circles, waiting for Allen to appear at the top of the rock.

She
had no feeling of impending danger, just sheer enjoyment at the caress of the
satin seawater. Allen appeared, and floating on her back, she kicked a high
spume of water in his direction, laughing. "Join me—it's like
heaven."

Allen,
some fifteen to twenty feet above her, grinned down at her, appreciating the
enticing picture she made. Then he stiffened and in a voice harsh with urgency
and fear he shouted, "Nick! Below you!"

Instantly
stopping her antics, she let her feet sink down and stared into the water. And
there it was, circling, not fifteen feet below her—the long deadly shape that
every seaman dreads—shark!

A
chill slithered down her spine and terror made her clumsy as she began with
awkward strokes to swim the one hundred yards that separated her from safety.
The beach was her only hope, for the steep sides of the lagoon offered no
chance of escape from the water. Fervently she sent up a little prayer that the
shark was only curious, and as her first spurt of terror abated she swam with
her usual strong and swift motions. But the shark was more than just curious.
There was something so frightening and threatening in the creature's
increasingly narrow circles that Nicole sensed it was only a matter of minutes
before the monster struck at her long, flashing legs.

As
if undecided, the shark glided to a position some yards in front of her,
effectively, whether by accident or design, cutting off her retreat to the
beach. Nicole stopped her race for safety, treading water and swallowing a lump
of fear as she watched the shark swim back and forth some twelve feet in front
of her.

She
cast an uncertain glance back at Allen. He still stood on the rocky
outcropping, his own face as white as hers, his eyes intent on the sleek,
menacing creature now swimming not ten feet in front of her.

His
voice encouraging, Allen shouted, "Keep swimming, Nick. For God's sake
don't start to panic and flounder around—that will only disturb it. Keep
swimming!"

Swallowing
a mouthful of pure fear and grimly telling herself that her life was not going
to end in a shark's belly, she followed Allen's advice. But she saw that the
shark was once again directly under her, and she watched with glazed eyes as it
drifted slowly upward toward her defenseless body, the jaws opening, the rows
of teeth like gleaming saw blades. She knew she was indeed going to die—now!

Dimly
she heard the splash of Allen's body as he entered the water, the noise and
vibration abruptly startling the shark, for it stopped its deadly attack and
darted away as if frightened. Seeing Allen's head breaking the surface of the
water, she cried, "What the devil are you doing? Now we're both in
danger."

"I
suppose," he yelled grimly, "I was just to stand there and watch you
be torn apart. Shut up, Nick, and start swimming."

The
shark, never having gone very far, returned, this time nearer to Allen. He kept
a wary eye on the beast before him and firmly gripped the handle of the
razor-sharp seaman's blade. "Get going, Nick, goddamnit!" he shouted
over his shoulder.

"But
you!" she argued, knowing he was right, but unable to leave him.

"And
what the devil can you do! If you would kindly get the hell out of here, I
could do the same! Now is not the time for you to get heroic!"

She
stifled a hysterical giggle and wondered what he would call his actions. Then
with a speed that was prompted as much from the fear that any second she would
feel those saw-toothed jaws tearing into her body, as the knowledge that Allen
would not attempt the shore until she was safe, she hurtled to the beach.
Splashing into ankle-deep water, she turned, thankful to see that Allen was
still alive and not more than fifty yards from the shore. But from the slow,
steady strokes he was taking and from the way he stared into the ocean depths,
she knew the shark still followed him. Desperately her eyes scanned the small
deserted beach, searching frantically for something, anything that could be
used to help Allen, but nothing met her eyes.

Gingerly,
Allen kept swimming, his eyes never leaving for more than a second the gray
streamlined shape that followed so silently and unnervingly on his heels. It
was not a huge shark, barely ten feet in length, but even a shark half that
size was a deadly enemy to a man in the sea. The knife held tightly in his hand
gave him some comfort, as did the nearing shoreline, but Allen was familiar
with sharks and this one's actions did not deceive him.

It
was, just now, swimming parallel to him, not five feet to his left, and once or
twice it had suddenly changed directions, swimming directly under his body, the
dorsal fin a scant few inches from his powerful kicking legs.

They
were closer to the beach now, and Nicole could see for herself the long
destructive shape that seemed to be growing more and more daring in its
approach to Allen's brown muscled body. Oh, God, she thought with anguish, save
him! He saved me—don't let him die!
Please!
She took a step
forward, intent upon flinging herself into the water, but knowing Allen's
bravery could very well be for nothing if she did, she stood frozen, her body
chilled to the bone as she saw the shark swim once more under Allen. Then
turning in one sinuous
motion, the creature began the same deadly rush that only moments before had
menaced her.

Allen
sensed the shark's imminent attack, and the razor-honed blade he clenched in
his hand seemed a flimsy protection against the saw-sharp teeth and
sandpaper-rough hide of his adversary. But he knew a man
could
win
against such a monster, for he had seen it done once, and with a prayer he
hoped he could duplicate that feat.

In
a tremendous surge that brought the head and shoulders from the water, the
shark came at Allen with a speed that took his breath away, but he held onto
his courage as he faced that deadly charge and the distance between them became
a matter of inches. Then only a heartbeat away from the ravaging jaws, Allen
jerked to one side, the knife held in both hands, the blade aimed toward the
tail, and drove it deeply into the underbelly, the force of the shark's
momentum causing the blade to gut the beast from gill to tail. Barely risking a
glance, Allen saw the shark, mortally wounded, guts and blood spilling from the
opened cavity, crazily swimming toward the open sea. Then swimming with an
unbearable urgency he reached the shore and stumbled into Nicole's welcoming
arms.

They
held each other for a long moment, both shaken to the very deepest recesses of
their beings.

"Oh,
my God, Allen! I was so frightened!" Nicole muttered, her face still pale.

His
breath coming in deep, agonizing gulps, Allen grinned. "I, too, was just a
little uneasy!"