Now, she could not ask Nick, his men, to turn around. The women on the island needed rescue. Ashley had seen the look in Nick’s eyes. He feared the women were dead, but he would go back for the survivors.
What kind of man had the gall to attack innocent women? And why target the women of the pirates on the Robin Hood? If these women were the men’s mistresses, might there also be children on the island? Had this nemesis killed them as well?
And finally, she allowed herself to ponder the question she’d wanted to ask from the moment Nick told her what the island was. If the men kept their women on the island, surely Nick did as well. He must be worried over his woman. He must fear that she might be dead.
And what was Ashley to do if the woman lived? Like it or not, Nick was now her husband. Ashley had no desire to confront his mistress. Perhaps that was why he’d treated her so badly all those months ago. Perhaps she was a toy to him while his heart belonged to the woman on Isla de las Riquezas.
Ashley lifted her fingers and touched them to her lips. She could still feel his cool lips pressed to hers. His stubble had scratched her jaw and her neck, but she’d welcomed the rasp of it on her hot and sensitive skin. She’d wanted him to do so much more than simply kiss her. When he’d slid his legs between hers and his flesh had pressed to her core—even though layers of clothing separated them—she’d trembled with the knowledge of the pleasure he could give her.
She rarely allowed herself to think of the night they’d spent together. The memory was sour to her now, but when she could forget the days following it, she could remember the pleasure. He’d been so tender with her, kissing her so thoroughly that he took her breath from her. His hands had stroked her until she was crying out for release. And he’d given it to her. She could still remember how he’d slid fingers slick from her own wetness inside her and teased her into a shattering climax. The room had been dark, or she might have been embarrassed by her lack of control. He, however, demanded more, taking her to the brink again before sliding his hard member into her. That had been another feeling altogether. The pain of the breach mixed with the pleasure of the orgasm he’d given her was an experience she could not begin to describe.
He’d rocked into her then, gentle because he seemed to know that even in the midst of the waning pleasure, she felt the intrusion keenly. She had wanted to wonder over the sensation of having a man inside her, having a man claim her so completely, but she’d barely had time before he withdrew and spent himself on the expensive rug where they’d been lying. She wanted to repeat the act all over again, and he’d laughed and said he needed a few minutes to recover.
She thought of the night now and felt heat creep into her cheeks. She’d thought he cared for her. She’d thought they would spend a thousand nights like that one. She’d been such a fool, and she was still a fool because she allowed him to make her forget how much she hated him. One kiss from him and she forgot how he’d treated her, how humiliated she’d been, how completely and utterly mortified. He didn’t love her. He loved a woman on Isla de las Riquezas. He’d used her and then when he’d seen she was damaged, he didn’t want her any longer.
She did not know why he’d kissed her now. Perhaps he had been so overcome by lust he’d forgotten how ugly her leg was. Perhaps he’d forgotten himself, just as she had. But she would not forget herself again. She would not allow him to seduce her again.
As it turned out, Ashley’s vow was easily kept. By morning the following day, the storm had passed and the sea calmed. There was little wind, giving the ocean a glassy look that unnerved her. The creaking of the sails and the boards under foot unnerved her too, but she kept her thoughts to herself as she stood on the deck, hands clenched on the toprail, and stared at the thick fog. What was beyond that fog? An armada? A sea monster? More pirates?
She did not know, and she joined the men in their prayers for wind. There was plenty to do in the lull of the storm, though. Sails were repaired and the carpenter, Mr. Carey, had devised a rotation so men continually manned the pumps while others repaired the damage to the vessel itself. She’d watched in awe as men dangled over the side of the ship, patching the gashes with scavenged materials, canvas, ropes, and spars.
Still, she thought she could still smell the scent of gunpowder lingering on the fresh breeze. There’d been no more injunctions against her coming on deck, though she suspected Nick had said something to his men regarding her because they gave her a wide berth. Only Mr. Fellowes dared stand near her, and she assumed that was because he’d been told to do so. Mr. Chante insisted on frowning at her while Mr. Carey doffed his hat and Mr. Johnson said “Argh” and danced a little jig. The rest of the crew either leered at her with surreptitious glances or ignored her completely. She was not certain which she preferred.
She had frequent glimpses of Nick. The ship was not so large that he would have been able to hide from her, even if he had been the hiding sort. But he did not sleep in the great cabin or make any effort to speak to her again. He was absorbed in his role as captain, and she did not think his preoccupation all for show. He pushed his men hard, almost as hard as he pushed himself, and they rose to the task. Obviously, they were as eager as he was to reach Isla de las Riquezas.
On the third day after the attack, the fifth day at sea, Ashley was teeming with energy. She caught Mr. Fellowes on deck. “Mr. Fellowes, I’d like an occupation. Something to help the ship and the men.”
He gave her a suspicious look then said, reluctantly, “Mrs. Captain could talk to Mr. Chante. He might have something.”
Ashley had spoken to Mr. Chante after the storm in order to obtain soap to wash herself and bed linens. He hadn’t seemed to like her much. “Thank you, Mr. Fellowes. Do you know where I might find him?”
“Last I saw him was below deck with Mr. Carey, lookin’ at the hull.”
Ashley scampered across the deck to the ladderway near the hull, congratulating herself on how easily she navigated the ship now, climbing about almost like a true sailor. She jumped off the bottom rung to the floor when a hand wrapped around her waist and hauled her into the companionway. She tried to scream, but a dirty hand covered her mouth and hauled her into a fetid, darkness.
Ashley tried to bite the hand, to kick the man holding her, but he merely chuckled in her ear. “Argh.”
Chapter Seven
Nick had been avoiding his cabin. More accurately, he’d been avoiding Ashley. He’d been sleeping in a hammock with the men the last few nights, and he hadn’t minded much. It reminded him of his days in the navy. But after three days he wanted a shave and a change of clothes. He found his cabin boy, ordered hot water, and steeled himself for confrontation.
His termagant wife wasn’t on deck. If she had been on deck, he would have known exactly where she was and what she was doing. Even when he wished to forget her, forget he had a wife, he could not seem to make his gaze cease following her or his body stop tingling with awareness. If he’d been younger and blissfully ignorant, he would have blamed his predicament on having been too long without a woman. Nick was wiser now. He’d tried to forget about Ashley in the arms of other women. It hadn’t worked.
He must have sighed a bit too loudly at one point when she was on deck, looking lovely even in her stained dress and his cavalier hat, because Chante said, “Yer staring so hard, it hurts me eyes.”
Nick had thought to reprimand his quartermaster for the familiarity, but there weren’t any other men within earshot at the moment, and Nick had always considered the man a friend. “She’s hard to look away from.”
The quartermaster crossed his arms over his broad chest, bare under the leather vest he wore. “I like a woman with substance. I’d be half afraid to crush that one.”
Nick laughed, eliciting a few looks from the men and even one from Ashley. “She’s tougher than she looks.”
“Aye.” Chante nodded. “Then take her below and have yer fill.”
Nick raised a brow. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mr. Chante, but she doesn’t care for me much.”
Chante shrugged. “Never known a woman you couldn’t charm.”
True. And Nick thought he probably could charm Ashley if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t want to woo her, to seduce her with pretty words and compliments. The last time they’d been together, she’d proved she did want him. He wanted more than a night with her, wanted more than a tumble. Considering their past, the probability of her believing him was about as high as their chances of spotting a mermaid.
