Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga (2 page)

LeCorbeau spoke through gritted teeth. “It is to be hoped she is not now an orphan,
Monsieur
.”

“Perish the thought!”

“Yes, yes, but something tells me it is not yet this man’s time to die. I am afraid that in circumstances like these, your surgeon will suffer much before death.” There would be no doubt of it, if LeCorbeau had any say in the matter; he was a suspicious man. He managed to keep the vitriol out of his voice. “But these vile, eh…kidnappers— they cannot have left you long ago?”

Whyte leaned more heavily on the captain’s sympathetic arm and squinted to check the position of the sun. “No, only an hour or so. It seems longer!” The hard-earned calm dissolved in a woman’s scream. Whyte blanched as fresh alarm etched his face. He wheeled toward the hatch. “What is it? What’s happened now?”

One of LeCorbeau’s men hauled the woman up the steps. She quivered in her dressing gown, weeping and clutching his uniform. Locks of graying hair tumbled from her nightcap as she shook her head, still shrieking. The French officer tugged her toward his captain, raising his voice to be heard above the cacophony.

“I found her hiding in a bunk below,
Commandant
. She is hysterical!”

Captain Whyte corrected his sagging posture, and his frailty left him. He held out his arm, every inch a gentleman now that a lady was in distress. “My dear, hush! You are quite safe now.”

Released, she staggered toward him and turned to point at her former captor. “Pirates! Oh, Captain, help me!”

Whyte placed his arm around her shoulders and patted her elbow. “No, no, the pirates have gone. These men are our saviors! Calm yourself, Madam. The attack is over.”

But the woman cried, “Gone? Oh, no! No, they can’t have gone!”

Unable to follow her reasoning, the captain of the
Julianne
said, “You are beside yourself. Come, come, you must sit down. Something to drink, perhaps.”

LeCorbeau eyed the middle-aged spinster with distaste. “This is surely not the doctor’s daughter, Captain?”

“No, indeed. She is her nurse.”

The nurse’s cries burst forth anew. She clamped her hands over her mouth, and Whyte was hard-pressed to comfort her. Long in the habit of discipline, he appealed to her sense of duty. “Please, you must collect yourself for your young charge. She mustn’t see you so upset.”

And with a look of horror, the woman uncovered her mouth to speak the dreadful words. “Captain! That’s just it! Those horrible men— I couldn’t stop them! I couldn’t do a thing! They took all her belongings, and—”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very disturbing. But belongings can be replaced—”

“Captain.” LeCorbeau put up a hand. His shrewd black eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the nurse. “Excuse me,
Monsieur
, I think the lady has a more serious concern?” He pressed his lips together.

She took a deep breath.

“They took all her things, and…and…they took Miss Hanover, too!” She wailed,
“She’s gone!”

Whyte reeled. Letting go of the woman’s shoulders, he stumbled against LeCorbeau. “No. Oh, no…”

LeCorbeau caught the old man, and his face contorted. “
Mon Dieu!
It is worse even than I believed!” Livid now, he steered his charge none too gently toward the cabin, abandoning the female to the officer.

“Here is my handkerchief, Sir— no, no, I insist!” They mounted the stairs in measured steps. “Guillaume! Bring that wine!…There is no end to the infamy of these sea rats! At least,
Monsieur
, the father and daughter are together. There may be some hope they will be ransomed, after all.”

Whyte was shaking now. “But what those brutes will do to her! A young, innocent girl. And she was under
my
protection. The poor girl will be ruined— if she lives!”

The French privateer didn’t care a fig for the girl’s virginity. More precious valuables lay at stake. “You cannot be blamed, Sir. Here, lean on me.” Compelled by the bantam captain’s energy, the two men paced the companionway.

LeCorbeau talked. He soothed. He commiserated until he wore the older man’s shock away. And when he judged the moment to be ripe, he smiled most ingratiatingly; he could do so when the need arose.

“But tell me, Captain Whyte. Did you happen to notice— so difficult in alarming conditions, I understand— but you are a seasoned seaman, it would be natural for you to observe. These pirates, when they left you…”

LeCorbeau halted to fix the merchant captain with his greedy, glittering eyes.

“Which way did they sail?”

Chapter 2

Captain’s Treasure

H
ook’s Jill was his own share of plunder from the
Roger
’s recent foray to the Neverland. Captain’s treasure. Once she was Peter Pan’s Wendy, and Hook had pursued her as an enemy to be hunted down. But the moment he beheld her face he changed course, determining instead to take her. She was his Beauty, his dream come alive. Since that day, her valor had been tested many times.

So far, she hadn’t disappointed him.

Yesterday at dawn, the pirate crew of the
Jolly Roger
sighted a merchant vessel and took its first prize since sailing out of Neverbay. By noon the captain was dividing the booty according to the terms of the ship’s articles, and after stowing it they spent the rest of the day and night carousing, celebrating their victory and quaffing the newly won wine. The captured ship had been a bountiful one, a good omen at the start of their adventures, and the mood was high. Buoyed up all around the feast was music, and song, and the men had called for the storyteller to spin them a tale, but in the midst of the revelry, the captain dampened the company’s cheer by dragging his Jill away.

Only the bo’sun, Mr. Smee, had entered the master’s cabin since, and then briefly, to inform the captain of the ship’s disposition.

Smee had seen it, then. The captain’s coffer, opened, and spilling its lustrous contents in the lanternlight, all around the rug. The beard on Smee’s rugged face had spread in a smile. He’d attended the mistress the first time she sampled the captain’s bounty. His own big hands had fastened the necklace about her throat, and he’d looked down at her reflection in the captain’s mirror. He’d caught the lust in her honest eyes. Treasure-lust. It must be shining a hundredfold by today!

But neither Smee nor anyone else had seen her this morning. Jill had been detained, forcibly, in the captain’s quarters.

James Hook was a ruthless man. Disregarding the appeal in her dark blue eyes, he had taken pleasure in denying her requests, and he prevented her flight. Those eyes of hers matched his own, and he possessed the power to read her heart. He had long since found and claimed her hidden kisses. Now he knew what she was thinking. She was watching the two brass keys that unlocked his door and his coffer. They hung against his chest as he advanced upon her, smirking.

Morning sun cascaded through the portside windows, illuminating her countenance and glistening in her fair hair. She lay on his bed, and, like the jewel she was, he had her displayed there, arranged in a setting of diamonds. And chains.

His voice was silky, low. Threatening.

“If you move, my love, you will lose everything.”

But looking at him— the arrogant, damaged man through whose darkness she had traveled— Jill felt compelled to move. Her breathing came quick, and her breast rose and fell with it. She was fast weakening. “Captain…” The chains had struck chill against her flesh as he laid them on. Now they radiated her own heat.

“Come now, Jill. We’ve done this before. You learned the value of obedience.” He sat on the foot of the bed, lightly, so that he wouldn’t jar her, and inspected the links across her ankles. Running a finger under them, he smiled, half-way. “Not too tight, I hope?”

“Just tight enough for your intention! Get it over with—” Remembering the precariousness of her position, she checked her passion. “Sir.”

Hook laughed. “Watch yourself, Madam. I will brook no insubordination. I’ve taken many things from women over the years, but orders, only once.” He mounted the bunk, lowering himself astride her. He moved slowly, just touching her, sending shivers through her thighs. As she fought to control her body, he sensed her efforts. Her trembling delighted him, but he continued, stern now.

“You’ll remember that occasion. But you mustn’t imagine I’ll allow it again.” His keys swung from his sun-gilded flesh, away and back, hypnotically…like the strings of jewels he’d hung at his windows, and on his bedposts…on his curtains…his walls. They glittered all around Hook and his Jill, seductive little stars, kissed by the sun, and swaying with the roll of a swelling sea.

His black waves of hair almost blotted the gleam of an earring, but his tattoo was visible; a mermaid wrapped her tail around his empty wrist. A deadly iron claw usually hid her inky image, but now his hook impended within reach, hanging from a hook of its own, and tapping at the wall.

In his one good hand a necklace twined, loosely draped. Jill’s captain held it over her heart and dangled it for her to see. “Rubies, love. To match your hand.” He inched them lower, and dragged them across her flesh. The jewels in his fingers scintillated with his movements, compounding her distress. He pulled the rubied chain around the peaks of her breasts, down her torso and into her strategic point, then trailed it tingling back again, up her neck to her chin.

She beheld the baubles, and her eyes followed as he suspended them from his fingers, rich with rings. Almost imperceptibly, her lip twitched. Hook saw it. His eyes narrowed. “Do these gems stir your passion— as much as your lover?”

Her breathing ran away with her again, no matter how she tried to curb it. “Hook. Show mercy! You know you’re the only—”

“Yes, I see that they do. I shall avail myself of the opportunity they afford me.” He laid the necklace across her throat, neglecting to fasten it. “I do apologize, but you understand…” With an ironic smile, he held up the grisly stump at the end of his arm.

Jill didn’t wince. She knew better than to invite discussion of his maiming. It wouldn’t distract him one whit from his purpose— quite the opposite. She had woven his story. She knew he blamed her. Averting her eyes from the ruin of his wound, she concentrated on the ruby necklace.

Its blood-red drops lay just above the scar she earned in her first real struggle, emblazoning it. The sight of that mark still sent victory, like fire, surging through the captain’s veins. He had settled that score. He had taken her. She was so completely his now, he’d already forgotten just where he left off and she began. The rubies pulsed against her throat, and the ends of their chain tangled with the locks of her hair.

His jewels afflicted her. Fountains of opulence flowed all around her, waterfalls of plunder that never quite poured into her. “Captain, have done with your torture.” Sometimes he called her a vixen, and for good reason. Even now she was crafty, calling one of her ready smiles to her service. “Please, Sir. Just give me what I want. I promise you, you’ll not regret setting me free.”

“You can set yourself free, Jill. In one way only.” Looming over her, he lowered his body, preparing to join with her. Knowing pleas would be futile, she set herself to withstand him. She would simply obey him this time, submit to his will. She understood the consequences, otherwise. She wouldn’t dare move her limbs until he was finished with her.

But it was difficult to remain still. The keys suspended from his neck kept dancing. He was so close. His eyes already possessed her. Now he was touching her. Her forehead creased; why was he so cruel? She had done her best to satisfy him! The motion of the keys was interrupted as they lay down to recline between her breasts. They were warm. With an effort, she closed her eyes and held her breath.

It wasn’t any use.

Hook smiled. His voice and his jewels had done their work. He slid into place, slowly, in order not to disturb her unclasped necklace. He heard her exhale. Then, moving within her, he watched the torment on her face as she strove, under orders, to remain still. In command, he stirred nothing but her desire as, with his weapon of choice, he killed her with his kindness.

Above her head, she clenched the pale fingers of her left hand and the reddened ones of her right into fists, and pressed against the bed linen, trying not to lose control, this time. Her nails dug into her palms as she willed her hips not to rise to meet him. But he was Captain James Hook, every bit as wily and handsome as her storytelling had created him, and one of the few things he cared enough to hold in his one-handed grasp was his lust for victory. Jill never really had a chance. Not then, as his cunning had won her, and not now, when he triumphed again.

For he was relentless. The heat kindled between them, the musk of rapture rose with their warmth. His skin, taut over muscle, glided along her own. Her breaths grew deeper, her wits dizzy. Bit by costly bit, Jill’s hold on her senses slackened. Hook laid siege to sensation, with a steady application of force. At last, his rhythm drove her to recklessness, and she clenched her teeth and sacrificed the golden chain on her right ankle. It slithered off her skin and thumped on the bedclothes as, surrendering the first spoils, she wrapped one leg around him. He laughed, and the thrill of it through her abdomen provoked a sigh, and her other ankle betrayed her. In a flash of gold, the second shackle fell away as her legs curled about him.

He smiled. But he didn’t stop.

Now only two silver chains and the ruby necklace restrained her. Surely she could endure his torture for the sake of these prizes? His keys nestled between their bosoms. She shut her eyes to the surrounding splendor, believing in herself. But he had begun to kiss her now, all around the rubies, and soon the rough of his whiskers and the firm of his lips robbed her of that treasure, too. She arched her neck to luxuriate in his kisses, crying out as the slippery settings deserted her throat.