The Pirate and the Amber Cat 2
Chapter 2
If you are just joining this story, you may want to start at the beginning.
They reached a small village on the coast before dark. The villagers warily eyed the score of sweaty horses and riders as they arrived. The men continued through town and halted at the pair of docks on the Rellion Ocean.
The smell of the sea mingled with pineapples and it reminded Suili how far she was from home. She didn't recognize the red and black flag raised over the only ship docked. Nervously she glanced again at the men in her escort. Pirates? On horseback?
The man behind her dismounted and offered her his hand.
Suili kicked at him, which he easily eluded as she other men chuckled. She tried to swing off the opposite side of the horse, but he wrenched her off his side, fingers tight on her wrist.
"Sell all the horses but this one," he was saying to the man he had spoken to earlier. "Divide the money among the crew, and be back by morning."
"Aye, Captain."
Men and horses dispersed back into town and the man towed Suili up one of the docks. She halted halfway, legs braced staunchly on the rough wooden planks. He looked at her with irritation.
"If you insist on being dragged," he said wearily, "at least wait until we're on board. The dock's not planed and you'll get more slivers than it's worth."
She frowned, pulling from him in vain. "You don't know what you're doing! My fiancé will have you flogged to death. He'll hang all your crew. You'll never get away with this!"
"I trust not."
His hand on her wrist snapped her into motion again and she found herself approaching the gangplank extended from the ship. Her other hand fastened on the deck's rail, jerking him to a stop. This time he didn't bother to argue with her. In one movement she was slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
Suili shrieked, arms waving, trying to reach the knife in his belt as they crossed the gangplank and descended the short stair beneath the quarterdeck and entered the captain's cabin. He passed through the first section of this to a rear room, where he dumped her on the bed and abruptly left.
He was gone before she got to her feet. The door closed behind him, its lock rattling.
She stood shakily in the unfamiliar room, barely breathing. The only light came from a flickering oil lamp bolted above the small table against one wall. She went there instinctively, knocking her shin on a wooden chest at the end of the bed. She unplugged the small cleat holding the lamp to the wall with trembling fingers. She turned up the wick.
The light shown brighter on the spacious room, and she was surprised to find it orderly and clean. The bed was centered against the aft wall, its tall, dark wood posts carved with figures from Luresian legends. Besides the small table at the starboard wall, the room also held an armoire, upholstered bench, washstand, and a chinoiserie screen near the aft corner. She touched the satin black lacquered finish on the last item, then the enameled orchid design.
She went to the end of the bed and tested the lid on the chest to find it locked. Across from it was a fireplace in the wall shared by the first room. Below the mantle a shadowed light seeped in through the grate.
She crouched, giving the opening more attention, and found that the fireplace serviced both rooms. It was large enough to crawl through, but the lowered grate barred any passage. She tried to lift the metal piece, but could not, and decided it was locked into place from the other side.
On either side of the mantle were closets built into the wall, but all were locked. She investigated the armoire, and to her surprise found a rack of dresses and other clothes in the column of drawers. The left door opened to reveal a floor-length mirror.
The uneasy feeling in her stomach now turned into a spasm. Quickly she closed the armoire.
Why a woman's clothes? The fears she had fought on the long ride now threatened her senses, but she knew she could not give in to them. She looked to the washstand where a comb and brush and two small pottery jars lay. Although they held a certain familiarity, she didn't touch them. Desperately she tried to open the window above the bench. It held tight, as did the ones at the table and other wall.
The trembling in her stomach made her legs weak, but she refused to sit down. The portside wall was much like the one with the armoire with a free-standing closet and washstand, but here the detailing was decidedly more common. A third cupboard rattled when she shook its case, but would not open. Inside the second wardrobe were more clothes—a man's clothes—and on the washstand basin were a few short, light hairs from a recent shave.
Now Suili did sit down, slowly, on the bed. She steadied the lamp shaking in her hands. This was no hasty raid on an unsuspecting household. This had been planned well in advance. They had left no one else alive, only her, and they had traveled inland half a day to get her. Horses had been used and were now being sold. Except for his. She also recalled that nothing had been carried off from the house—no plunder.
She looked back to the washstand with the comb and brush. Maybe they had belonged to another woman. Maybe she was only one in a long line of captives brought here.
The door opened suddenly and her captor stepped in, making her yelp and jump to her feet. She dropped the lamp, spilling oil on her skirt and catching it on fire. She winced as the heat clung to her leg.
He set his own lamp on the chest and ripped off the lit length of her hem, stepping on the flames.
"Sit down."
She increased the distance between them. "What are you going to do?"
"Sit down," he repeated more sharply.
Suili sat, biting her lip against the searing pain at her calf. She flinched from him when he reached for it. He threw her a dark look, and she resisted moving away when he took her bare foot. He examined the wax burn for a moment, and then retrieved a cork stopped jar from one of the cupboards. She watched him replace the key that hung from a chain at his neck. He handed her the jar.
"Caron oil. It'll take the sting away, and it won't scar."
She opened the jar, a strong almond smell coming from it. "We always use saffron."
"The caron is better and it won't stain." He collected the pieces of broken lamp and lit another candle lantern hanging from a ceiling beam.
She gingerly smoothed the oil on the red spot forming on her leg. Within seconds the pain had noticeably numbed.
He stripped off his headband and ran a hand through his blond hair. "When does your husband come back?"
"He's not my husband," she corrected. Lack of regret slipped into her tone.
"You're betrothed to him," he stated factually, his shadow falling over her. "What is it? A matter of months?"
She did not reply, but handed back the jar.
"When did he leave?"
"If you don't return me now he'll have ten ships after you," she warned. "He has—"
"Eight ships," he told her, watching her register surprise. "I sank two last month."
She studied him slowly, carefully, deciding she would not aid his cause with the slightest degree of help. Her chin tilted with distaste. "You're lying. You don't even know his name."
He put the jar on the washstand near the screen, watching her attention go to the door. "I sank the Ten Reeds and Northern Promise," he recalled levelly. "And your husband's name is Juriz Shaenen, relation to the late Ros dem Methden Shaenen."
"And who are you?"
"Cortleno Ve D'Arkaise, captain of the Lita Nysse."
She shied, her courage wavering. She had heard stories of him, but was unsure how many were true. If even half held any truth she would have been better off slain at the house.
"No," she murmured to herself. "Captain, he'll pay whatever you ask, Juriz will. Please, let me—"
"I plan on returning you, Ros Dai Shaenen, but –"
"It's Brijholn," she corrected stiffly, then chided herself at making the distinction against what would become her married title.
He smiled at the interruption. "Dai Suili Brijholn," he said slowly, "if you wish to return to the Paraimo Valley, you will have to do as I say."
From outside someone shouted.
Cortleno took a key from his pocket and turned to the door. "There are clothes in the closet."
Suili remained on the bed after he was gone, her mind as numb as the burn on her leg.
The day was too much.
She took a deep, shaky breath. She could think of many stories of Captain D'Arkaise and his crew, none flattering. Most placed the Lita Nysse in the colder Gorzai Sea around Kacerak and Mortania. He was eight or nine years her senior, not an age she thought a pirate captain should be.
He did not plan to keep her. He was going to take her back. Or, that's what he said, she thought, unconsoled. But it could not be any time soon, or there would be no need for those, she reconsidered with a glance at the armoire and screen.
She went to the washstand and took the hairbrush, holding it up to the lantern. It was clean, new. She examined the dresses in the armoire. They were made of fine gauze and silks and their seams showed no wear. Everything was new.
Perhaps he would return her tomorrow, after—
No, she thought with determination. Surely he had not raided and slaughtered an entire household for what could be readily obtained in the village. She had seen plenty of women on the street as they rode through.
Then it was money. Juriz's family was one of the wealthiest in Ullira and Mezpar.
Her eyes rested on the floor-length curtain on the aft wall she had not noticed earlier. Upon investigation, she learned this partitioned off the water closet. This small room was provided with a tiny barred window and out it she could see only the darkening horizon. Another lamp was pegged to the wall here.
She did not change her clothes, nor continue to search for a weapon. The cabin was shut up.
Cortleno had anticipated her actions.
A means of escape would have to come when the door or window was unlocked.
PG13. #romance #cleanromance #teenromance #YA #fantasy #pirateromance #pirates #ambercat
 | A guest post by
|