She shook her head. Even though she could see he was correct. The flames were closing in. If she stood there, she would die for certain. But she could not go through the fire. It was unthinkable. Her brain—her legs—revolted. Her eyes stung from the smoke, tears running down her cheeks. She looked at Nick and shook her head again.
His dark face, streaked with soot and ash, grew darker still. “That’s not a request, Ashley. Come through this fire now.”
He was ordering her to walk through fire. Of course, he was. The man thought he was a god, obviously. But he couldn’t order her to face this nightmare. No one could.
“Did you hear me, Ashley? Walk to me. Now. I won’t lose you. Or Rissa.”
Rissa! She looked down at the child, limp in her arms. Her muscles had gone numb from the weight of the girl, and she barely felt it anymore. She didn’t even know if the girl lived. Ashley could barely breathe. She coughed and choked, but the small girl lay motionless in her arms. Perhaps she was already dead. Perhaps they both were.
“Ashley!” Nick screamed, and there was anguish in his voice. She’d never heard that tone in anyone’s voice, but she recognized it. It was the anguish of someone who loves and loses. He thought he was going to lose her—no, not her. It was Rissa he loved.
But she loved him. If she stood here the fire would win. She would resign herself to the fate she’d feared for so long, the fate that had roused her from sleep with a scream on her lips time and time again. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t let the fire win. It had almost taken her leg. It would not take her life.
She would probably die. There was no way she would live if she walked through those flames, but she had to try. She wanted to die trying. She looked around and spotted the blanket that had been on the bed. One edge of it was caught on the sharp point of a piece of the ship that had been blown apart by the blast. She crossed to it, and yanked.
The blanket did not move, and the fire seemed to rear up, howling at her in fury at her puny attempts to escape its wrath. She adjusted Rissa’s weight and tugged again, this time freeing the blanket, but almost stumbling into the angry fire behind her. The flames crept closer, and she was perspiring now, choking on the smoke and the sheer heat of it.
“Ashley!”
She heard Nick’s voice, faint and far away, over the rumble of the beast. She could no longer see him through the flames and smoke. But the cabin was small. She could reach him. She had to.
“I’m coming,” she yelled, her voice hoarse and weak from the smoke. She threw the blanket over her head, covering her hair and draping it over Rissa. It left her skirts and her legs exposed, but there was nothing for it. She was nauseous with fear, her belly roiling, the nerves in her leg throbbing with sympathy pain. She took a moment to steady herself, to still the panic, the dizziness, the churning of her belly. And then with a scream of sheer terror, she ran.
The fire swiped at her with razor sharp claws that seared her as they raked her skin. The smoke blinded her eyes and gripped her throat until the vise was so tight she did not think she would ever breathe again. In the center of the flames, the heat pushed back at her, its intensity like a wall, but she pushed forward. She could not stop.
She kept screaming as she stumbled through the nightmare. It was worse than she had ever imagined, the hot red flames snarling and hissing at her. She was in the center of it all, and there was no escape. Her flesh began to smoke and shrink. And still she screamed, even when she fell through the doorway and into the companionway, black with smoke. She screamed when strong arms caught her up and pressed down on her arms and legs painfully. She screamed when Rissa’s weight was taken from her arms. She screamed and screamed until finally she was engulfed in the warmth of Nick’s arms, his smell, his strength.
Only then did she cease screaming, and only then did she realize it had been a silent scream all along.
HE CARRIED HER UP THE ladder and to the deck, laying her on the wooden planks and using his shirtsleeve to wipe the soot from her nose and mouth. She was alive. From what he could see, she was unharmed, although a bit singed here and there. Her clothes were smoking, but he’d beaten the embers back before they could explode into flames.
Ashley turned on her side and coughed, great hacking coughs that both alarmed and assured him. She was going to live. Nick looked at Mr. Fellowes, who’d laid Rissa beside Ashley. The little girl was not moving. “She’s breathing,” Fellowes said. “The blanket protected her.” It was still wrapped about her small body, and Nick dragged it off, using a corner to wipe the child’s face. She moaned quietly, and Nick pulled her into his arms, keeping her face free so she could breathe.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured. “I have you.”
Several men had gathered about, and Nick barked at them. “Fire! Bring water and put it out before it spreads.”
The men jumped to do his bidding, and Nick let out a breath. They were safe.
Except they were not safe. He rose and peered out at the ocean. They’d raced past The Snake, but Chante was turning the ship about. The Robin Hood was returning for more, returning for the kill. This time the wind was not on their side. Several members of his crew lay bleeding on the deck, victims of the chain and shrapnel Yussef had lobbed at them. And there was the fire to consider as well. If the men did not control it, Yussef would not have to lift a finger to sink Nick’s ship.
His ship....it wasn’t his ship any longer. He’d given it to Chante, and Chante was doing exactly what Nick would have done. He was going back to finish Yussef. Except that when Nick looked down at the child in his arms, when he looked at the woman lying on the deck beside him, he knew he would never have ordered the Robin Hood to go back. He would have taken his ship and run to safety. Yussef wasn’t worth the risk of taking a direct hit. The Barbary pirate’s ship was not completely compromised. Yussef still had maneuverability and at least half his guns. Nick could see the corsair rally his men to man the guns on the portside, where the Robin Hood would pass and fire again. He would be armed and ready.
The ship was no longer his, but he couldn’t allow Chante to go back. Nick thrust Rissa back into Mr. Fellowes’s arms and stood. Several long strides later, he stood beside Chante and Mr. Carey on the bow.
“Report,” Chante barked.
Nick almost laughed. Just an hour ago, he’d been the one barking orders. How quickly he had fallen. “Direct hit to the stern, but Mr. Fellowes says the rudder is intact.”
Chante nodded as though he knew this.
“I sent men to extinguish the fire.”
“I need dem,” Chante said.
“You need a ship, not a burned-out husk. I want control of the Robin Hood back.”
Chante and the ship’s carpenter whipped their heads from the view of the seas to Nick. He held up a hand and motioned Chante to step aside with him. “I know I relinquished command, but I want it back. Either that, or I want you to order the vessel to turn and head for Gibraltar.” He raised his voice so the crew could hear. “The damage to the Robin Hood is substantial. The rudder is weak, and half the crew is wounded or dead. Look at Yussef. He isn’t without defenses.”
