She opened her eyes, seeing only darkness, and feeling a heaviness on top of her. She tried to push it off, then realized it was warm and pliable. “Rissa!”
The child didn’t answer, and the more Ashley moved, the more she realized something else, a board of some sort, was on top of them. With a grunt, she shoved it off, and pulled the little girl into her arms. On one side, she saw the windows of the great cabin had been blown away, along with a sizable section of the wall. On her other side, blocking her path to the door, flames, fanned by the breeze, burst to life.
Panic, hot and angry as the flames, seized her. She could do nothing but stare at the fire. She had not touched it, but she could smell the scent of burning flesh. Her flesh. She could feel the searing kiss of the flames on her skin, and she knew the pain, pain so sharp she had thought of dying rather than continue to live with it. Her leg throbbed in sympathy, her damaged flesh remembering well the agony it had suffered.
She did not know how long she sat, still as a statue, staring at the fire before the sound of her name roused her. Nick. Nick was calling for her. She blinked and glanced down at the weight in her arms. “Rissa?” She patted the child’s cheek. “Rissa!”
The girl didn’t move, but Ashley watched her chest rise and fall. She was still alive. There was still hope, slim as it may be. Still holding the girl, Ashley rose and stumbled toward the door. The heat from the flames pushed her back again. “Nick!” she called. “I’m in here. Nick!”
And then he was there. She could see his black hair in the opening beyond the flames, so close and yet impossible to reach. Their eyes met through the flickering flames, and she saw the determination in his eyes that she needed. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She was not giving up. She was not giving Death the last laugh.
“Fire!” Nick called. “Fire!” He disappeared from view again, and then he was back. “I’ll get you out, Ashley. We’ll get this fire out and you’ll be safe. Hold on.”
He was gone again, and then she heard something slam against the cabin door. Nick or his men were breaking it down. She stood and held Rissa close, clinging to the girl and to her slim chance at hope. But even as she watched, the fire grew in size and fury and her small spark dimmed.
Part of the cabin had been blown away, and the winds from the ocean and the movement of the ship urged the fire to new heights. As Ashley watched it engulfed more of the wall and began to creep across the ceiling.
The door flew in, and Nick stood on the other side, axe in hand, soot on his face, eyes burning. Seeming to sense the bounty that lay beyond, the fire whooshed toward him, and with a hand thrust up to ward off the heat, Nick stumbled back.
“Fire!” he screamed. “Get me water down here.” And then his gaze met hers again, but this time she didn’t see the determination. This time she saw fear.
NICK COULD SEE ASHLEY standing in what remained of his great cabin, cradling his daughter. Her face was pale, and her blond hair hung about her soot-streaked face. He knew, for her, this was the nightmare come to life.
It was his nightmare as well. He could not reach her or Rissa. He could not hold them. He could not—no, he would save them. He had to. He moved toward the fire again, but it roared, pushing him back. If he went through it, then all three of them would be trapped in the cabin. He needed water. He needed men.
“Fire!” he bellowed again, and finally, finally, he spotted someone moving along the red-hued companionway. “Mr. Fellowes!”
“I’m coming, Captain—I mean, my lord.”
For a moment, Nick was confused, and then he remembered he’d given up command of the ship. Chante was captain now. Fellowes thrust a bucket of water in Nick’s hand, and he turned and doused the fire. There was a flicker from the beast, and then it roared back at him. “It’s going to take more than this,” he bellowed at Fellowes. “Where are the men and the rest of the water?”
“The battle,” Fellowes said, pointing aloft. “I was all Captain Chante could spare.”
Nick grabbed Fellowes’s arm and pulled him away from the heat and fury of the flames. “The battle?” Who gave a holy hell about the battle? But all of their lives hung in the balance. “Report, Mr. Fellowes.”
“He’s fallen off to port. Looks like he’s going to run away. You crippled him, Captain. Guns blown away, men down. But The Snake can still strike,” Fellowes said, his breath coming in quick gasps. The smoke was thick, and Nick knew in a few moments, it would be nearly impassable. “The captain is turning the Robin Hood, going back for the kill.”
“Is the ship responding?” It had taken a direct hit to the stern, and Nick was surprised the rudder had not been damaged.
“Yes, my lord. We took heavy casualties, and our portside guns are mostly gone. The ship may not hold up.”
If it did, and if the Robin Hood won the day, the crew would board The Snake, taking all the booty they could carry and putting Yussef’s men to the sword. It was no less than the pirate deserved after what he’d done to their families on Isla de las Riquezas. If Chante deemed Yussef’s ship sound, he would tow it as a prize. If not, he’d resign it to Davy Jones’ locker.
The crew of the Robin Hood would have to deal with the fire, of course. Fellowes would make his report, more men would be sent, but the smoke was growing thicker by the second. He could hear Ashley coughing. By the time the fire was doused, it might be too late for Ashley and Rissa. It might be too late for all of them if Chante went back to finish Yussef off. Nick knew the pirate’s tricks. He might look like a dog, limping along on three legs, but Yussef knew how to roll over and play dead, then spring to his feet and sink his teeth in.
If Chante attacked again, they risked a direct hit. At one time, Nick would have said that was the chance one took. That was the excitement of battle. Now, he did not want to risk it. He’d already risked Ashley and Rissa enough. He couldn’t chance losing them. He knew what it was like to lose the person he loved most in the world. He couldn’t let it happen again.
“Nick!” Ashley’s voice carried over the hiss of the flames, and Nick pushed away from Fellowes and moved back toward the heat of the fire.
“Nick!” she screamed, and he saw the problem immediately. The flames had moved inward, creeping toward her. With the sharp debris from the hit by The Snake behind her, she had nowhere to go, and the fire was creeping toward her quickly, hungry and sensing easy prey. He couldn’t wait for more water. He couldn’t wait for Chante. He had to get her out now.
“Ashley!” he yelled over the crackle and rumble of the fire. “You have to come through it. Get out now.” He watched her face, watched his words take hold, watched as she clutched Rissa to her chest and shook her head in terror.
He was going to lose her. His beautiful, strong, adventurous Ashley. She could face anything—anything but this.
SHE COULDN’T GO THROUGH the flames. The man must be mad. They needed more water, more men to defeat the beast. It thundered and snarled like a storm or a creature of mythology. She could not go through it.
“Ashley!” Nick yelled over the grumble of the beast lapping at her feet. “There’s no time. You have to go through it.”
