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Authors: Katharine Ashe

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BOOK: Swept Away By a Kiss
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Bebain stood immobile, as though listening for a whispered suggestion, a lap of water, a ripple of sail to tell him what to do. Abruptly he released a shout of laughter and grabbed Valerie by the arm, dragging her across deck. Halting before the priest, he pushed her forward and she fell against the Jesuit’s chest. With his hands tied behind him, Etienne did not move. Valerie wrenched away.

“What?” roared Bebain with indignant laughter. “You do not approve of my solution, pretty one?” He pressed a hand into her back, gripping Etienne’s shoulder and drawing them together until her brow tapped the Jesuit’s chin.

“This is ideal, don’t you see? A virgin and a man of the cloth. The perfect Paradise.” He laughed, a jackal’s bark, and clapped his hands. He bent to speak near Valerie’s ear, his breath caressing her neck like a snake’s scales.

“We will construct an Eden-garden schoolroom, my lovely innocent. I, naturally, will play the starring role, the Serpent. And if I understand our clever cleric well enough, he will prove more useful to me than I first imagined. I suspect I will not have long to wait before you are delightfully prepared to join me in my less sanctified confessional. And if you do not comply, I will kill you both.”

He stepped back and raised his arms theatrically. “Thanks be to God for the blessing of sacred priesthood.”

His laughter shrilled through Valerie, washing her limbs with renewed tremors. As her giant guard reached for her, she thought she heard him exchange quiet words with Etienne. But when she looked toward the priest, he had already turned away.

Chapter 5

T
he pirates carried Valerie onto their ship, tying her up away from activity. Exhausted and stunned, she barely heard the sailors’ shouts, the hissing and sliding of the lines, and the night wind hollowing out the sails.

When her chin fell to her shoulder, she roused jerkily, forcing open her eyelids. Through the crisscrossed lines at the rail the shadow of the merchant ship loomed. Lanterns lit and sails furled, it sat peacefully in the glimmering water, receding as the corsair gained speed.

Tears of relief prickled in Valerie’s eyes. The pirate captain had spared Raymer’s ship. It seemed an unexpected mercy, especially from a madman who thought she was of no use to him as a virgin.

In moments of risqué London gossip, Valerie had heard that some men only enjoyed their pleasures with women of extensive experience, birds of paradise, opera singers, widows. Bebain, it seemed, was that sort of man. But his solution to finding a virgin was to provide her with an education before taking her for his own use. And her instructor was to be Etienne La Marque.

Whether this lesson was meant as a punishment or prize for the priest, Valerie couldn’t imagine. Etienne was probably worth ransom. But whether Bebain kept him for money or some other reason, before he released the priest, he was going to shame him.

Or, perhaps, reward him.

Shaking, Valerie clamped her mouth shut to gathering sobs. Nothing, no matter how dreadful, could be worse than the living numbness she had endured for two years. She must remember that, whatever occurred.

When activity upon the ship quieted, its swaying movement lulled her to sleep again. She awoke to morning sunlight pressing through her eyelids. High above, a clear sky framed heavy white sails. She shifted and her arms erupted in pain. Struggling to sit, she tested her bonds.

Footfalls sounded upon the planking beside her, and she twisted around. Two men blocked the sun. The giant from the night before stood in his bare feet a head taller than the man beside him, who was lighter-skinned and finer-featured than his companion. His ears, fingers, and wrists glittered with gold, and he wore a bold sash of red and black cinched around his waist.

He peered at her intently, then the two sailors spoke to each other, their speech sounding vaguely French. The giant, Zeus, came toward her. Valerie tensed.

“Do not be afraid.” He crouched and reached for her hands, untying the ropes, to Valerie’s astonishment.

She pulled her arms forward and rubbed gingerly at her wrists and shoulders.

“Why shouldn’t I be? This is a perfectly horrid situation. I would be a thorough widgeon not to be out of my mind with fear right now.”

A glint of amusement flickered in the other sailor’s eyes.

Quick anger smothered Valerie’s fear.

“You think this is amusing?”

The beringed man did not reply, but Zeus murmured, “The Angel will not harm you.”

Valerie shook her head. Sleep must still be clogging her ears. Surely the fellow did not mean Bebain? She looked from one inscrutable face to the other, and the giant grasped her hand to help her rise.

Valerie took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“What will happen to me now?”

“A chamber has been prepared for you,” the beringed man said. “Come with us.” Something commonplace about his tone dulled the edge on Valerie’s anger and alarm. She went with them across the deck.

The ship’s topside reflected wealth and order. Rope coiled upon the sparkling boards in perfect spirals, barrels were symmetrically arranged to port and starboard, and metal and woodwork brightly reflected the morning sun. The sailors worked with methodical discipline. However disordered he was in mind, Captain Bebain kept an extraordinarily neat ship.

Valerie followed her escorts down a steep, narrow stairwell onto the corsair’s gun deck. The modest chamber they entered near the stern end, forward of the captain’s quarters, boasted one small window starboard. A beautifully woven rug covered the floor between a collection of fine furniture bolted to the deck: a small table and wooden armchair, a carved Indian chest, and a surprisingly large, iron-framed bed made up with white sheets and a dyed indigo woolen blanket. Several framed oil paintings decorated the walls.

Valerie’s stared. The pictures depicted naked women and men joined at mouths and hips. In one, the man’s face was lodged between the woman’s thighs.

She dragged her gaze away. Zeus had disappeared, and the gold-ringed man stood alone at the threshold. His eyes twinkled.


Monsieur
—”

“Maximin.”

“I would like some food, please.” Valerie pressed her hand to her growling belly. Again, the pirate’s coal-dark eyes smiled. Sore from head to foot, and weak with hunger, Valerie felt her thin veneer of composure dissolve. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she snapped.

“You are a beautiful woman. It pleases me.” No hint of malice or even desire colored his tone, merely simple male appreciation.

“Well, I hope it pleases you enough to inspire you to bring me some food.”

He grinned again and gestured to the wooden chest.

“Use whatever you find there. Call Zeus if you want anything.” He closed the door. A key turned in the lock.

Valerie washed with a basin and small pitcher of water upon the table, then opened the chest. The aroma of sweet sandalwood tickled her nose. Among a stack of surprisingly fine men’s linen shirts were a simple maid’s frock and an ivory lace garment apparently intended as a night rail. Valerie considered the flimsy piece, then stuffed it into a bottom corner of the trunk.

She unfastened her gown, slipped it over her head, and draped it across a bedpost. Turning down the bedcover, she climbed in between unexpectedly dry sheets. She studied the scandalous pictures until her eyelids drooped.

When Valerie awoke, the giant brought her bread, hard cheese, and wine. As he retreated, she called out, “Zeus?” He paused at the door. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his expression benign.

“Did someone give you the name, or did you choose it yourself?”

His expression did not alter.

“My master named me.”

“Were you born in America?” Valerie’s stomach howled with hunger so greatly that the meager rations he brought looked like a king’s feast. But since waking she had devised a plan. All men could be manipulated. A woman only needed to know what a man most valued or despised to get what she wanted from him. At one time Valerie had known her father’s aversions better than her own. She had put the knowledge to good use often enough.

“No, miss. They took me from my home when I was a boy.” Zeus’s stance remained solid in the door frame. Not a muscle flickered upon his face. But he did not leave.

Valerie’s confidence edged higher.

“I wonder that they dared. A man of your impressive stature and strength . . . You must have been a strapping lad.”

He turned toward the passageway. Valerie’s heart fell into her stomach. Clearly this man could not be cajoled with flattery. Her thoughts flew. “I wonder if you can help me, Zeus.”

His massive shoulder shifted, his chin tilting toward her. Valerie seized the signs of interest.

“I am not accustomed to being alone, you see,” she said, a hint of quaver in her voice. “My maid usually attends me, or—or a gentleman friend,” she stammered, allowing the full force of maidenly fear to shine through her eyes. She was frightened, for sure. But maybe if this man believed her to be on the verge of hysteria he would agree to help her.

His brow furrowed.

“Perhaps—” she stuttered. “Perhaps, if some companion could pass the time with me, so that I would not always be thinking of—of—” She broke off, her gaze entreating. “Would you stay for a bit and talk with me?”

“I must remain outside.”

“Oh.” She laced the single word with disappointment. “Then may I have something to keep me busy? A deck of cards? Perhaps a book would help.”

Valerie revised her plan as she spoke. Of course a man torn from his family and homeland while still a child would not respond well to an aristocrat’s helpless misery, no matter what her circumstances. Instead of pathetic, she should act vulnerable and determined. Anyway, she
was
determined. Determined to wrest her way out of this captivity by any means necessary.

Zeus nodded. She had won a victory, if only a tiny one. Valerie released her breath slowly.

When he left, she dove into the simple food and drink. Revived, she paced around the little chamber, but the activity did not relieve her agitation. No doubt Bebain would soon call for her. She must prepare herself for that, and for whatever else would come.

Her stomach roiled.

She shook her hands free of tremors and went to the window. The colors of sunset, violet, fiery orange, scarlet, and fuchsia, swept across the western sky over the reflecting sea. With an odd thickness, Valerie’s heart fluttered.

She could end the horror before it began, she supposed, staring at nature’s riotous canvas spread before her. They would undoubtedly take her above deck again. If she went docilely, the pirates might become accustomed to her timidity. They would not expect it when she pulled away and flung herself overboard. It would be as easy as spending pin money to give her life to the sea rather than the madman who captained this horrible vessel.

She stepped back from the window.

She had never taken the easy path before, and didn’t know what it would be like to do so. Only four days ago, after all, she had been ready to put herself at the mercy of the unforgiving
ton
to regain the company of her loved ones.

She would still do it. She would see this nightmare through and somehow make it back to England. She longed to feel her family’s embraces and know she was finally home, loved.

The door opened behind her. Throat tightening, she swung around and met the priest’s golden gaze. He stood tall in the cabin doorway, his wrists shackled together, and abruptly she understood her frustration with him the night before. Even bound, Etienne La Marque emanated an aura of slumbering power. Small wonder she had imagined he could save them.

The sailor Maximin stood behind him. He unfastened the irons around Etienne’s wrists and handed over the oil lamp. The priest stepped across the threshold and the door closed. A key slid in the lock.

“Good evening,
mademoiselle.
” He rubbed his wrists, drawing Valerie’s gaze to the action. He had strong hands, long, beautiful fingers. Hands that could hold a woman just as she wanted to be held.

Valerie’s breath stuttered, and warmth collected in her middle. What would it be like to have him touch her, and not because someone forced him to?

BOOK: Swept Away By a Kiss
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