Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga (45 page)

Liza lowered, slowly, to the floor. Her features grew stubborn as she blocked the doorway. Still watching his handsome face, she felt along the boards and scooped the diamonds into her hands. She caught the gleam of his hook, so lethal up close that she convulsed with shivers. Kneeling at his feet and in thrall to her urges, she obeyed the impulse to lay her cheek upon it. In the seconds she was allowed to touch it, it felt steely cold. Hook pressed it to her cheekbone as he forced her away. When he drew it back, she felt it still, like an ice-fire brand. She recovered her suppliant position, kneeling on the hard floor that punished her knees. Cupping her father’s treasure in her two hands, she raised it in offering.

“Out of my way!”

Liza braved the anger in his eyes. She remained on her knees almost between his boots, breathing his leathery scent. Summoning the boldness that never failed her before, she leaned back to display her willingness, believing that in spite of his words, he was tempted. She saw him survey the womanly gifts of her body, confirming what she knew to be true— she, too, was lovely. Freed at last from her net, her hair was brushed to a sheen. It rippled over the tops of her shoulders. The strands fell loose toward her bosom, and she had cut her hair so that it stopped just short of her breasts. Their firm curves showed plainly, as did the dark points that crowned them. Her master must see she was no child! Liza was certain he was appreciating every detail, even the fading stripes on her thighs. He’d never seen those bruises before. But he would recognize them. Like her mistress’ red hand, they were the marks she had won for provoking him.

“Enough of this. I have business elsewhere.” He nudged Liza’s naked thigh with his boot, ebony against ivory. But she let the diamonds slide through her fingers, to bounce off his boot and rattle all around. He shook them off, and in the second in which the gems distracted him, Liza seized his long coat, to climb up his body like a feral cat.

He drew away, but she clung. Before he could rid himself of her, she had wrapped her legs around him and she was pressing her breasts to his velvety chest, pulling his head down to meet her. Her lips pushed against his. She tasted him with her tongue and felt the prick of his mustache, and he overbalanced and staggered back to compensate, nearly colliding with the bunks. She had her fingers in his hair now, clinging like burrs. Trying to loosen them, he turned his head this way and that, angling his face to avoid her. He reached up to tug, but his single hand couldn’t disentangle her. His claw threatened, flashing in the sun.

Liza didn’t care.

§ § §

She didn’t care, and Hook knew it.

He understood from the beginning. This creature craved whatever form of attention he granted her. She would be his, as absolutely as his Jill.

And Jill was waiting for him. This little spitfire was costing him time. Jill must be wondering why he hadn’t burst upon her to challenge the surgeon. The quickest victory would suit Hook now— he’d deal with the repercussions later. Relaxing, he lowered his hook to encircle the girl’s waist, tightly. His hand abandoned the tangle of his hair to brush the strands of brown from her face.

“All right, little girl. I’ll play with you.”

Her eyes lit up. She set her feet back on the floor and stood on tip-toe to reach him. Her face as he touched her flushed with an eagerness that made her pretty. With the back of his fingers, Hook stroked her hot flesh, gratified to feel her releasing his hair and grasping his shoulders instead.

“We’ll play a game of make-believe, shall we?” Her weapons in this fray were her hands. With calculated patience he collected them, one at a time, and pressed them to his chest. Then he gifted her with his beautiful smile. He watched her smile in return. He leaned as though to kiss her, and her eyes half closed and her body went limp with rapture. He tipped her far enough back to gain control, then scooped her up and off her feet. He pivoted, to fling her to the bunk on his way out the door.

The maneuver should have succeeded. His method was flawless— but so, too, were the diamonds studding the floor. As he turned to toss her, his boot skidded upon the gems. Instead of releasing her to the lowest bunk, he twisted and fell with her. They both tumbled onto the bedding. Hook felt a burn from the frame of the upper bunk where it had grazed his cheekbone. As he struggled to lift himself off the girl, the chains on the bedpost rattled warning. But his right arm was pinned beneath her. He’d had to let go of her hands to break the fall, and she seized his coat and dragged him toward her, longing for his kiss.

But Hook had, indeed, played make-believe. When the kiss wasn’t delivered, she thrashed about, pushing against the bed, then lifting her face to meet his, and his arm slid free from her back. Circling the hook above her, he shoved his elbow down to pin her with his forearm, just under her throat, his claw barely avoiding a slash on her shoulder. And all the while his gut wrenched as he felt Jill needing him, and his precious time, like the doctor’s diamonds, sliding away.

He’d have to pretend again. “I’ve no patience with this disobedience. Lie still and give yourself to me.”

Hearing his voice directed only toward her— speaking the very words for which she craved— was too much for the girl. In a frenzy now, Liza redoubled her efforts, deliberately disobeying, knowing and desiring the punishment that could follow his pleasure— and displeasure. Her grip on his coat was desperate. As he straddled her, she thrust against the loins poised above her own and begged him for his passion, at any cost.

Time was running out.

“Be still, girl!” Again he collected her hands, plucking them like early fruit from a stubborn vine. He was just forcing her arms up over her head when the door slammed shut, and the fury in the gray velvet suit strode toward the bunk. The ivory-handled walking stick raised up and whistled through the air in a motion calculated to crush a rapist’s skull. Bright lights whirled in the blackness then, and only after he collapsed, fading into oblivion in a heap along her body, did the girl truly win Captain Hook’s attention.

An inch from his ear, in a low, lovely voice, she moaned for him.

“Master!”

§ § §

Wide awake in the gray shadings of dawn, Hanover listened for a telltale clink in the bunk above. With a rag and the bottle of ether close to hand, he lay tensed, reliving the horrors of the previous day.

Ironically, the day began perfectly for the surgeon. Stimulated by his glorious session with the ‘lady,’ he retired to his quarters, still smiling and more hopeful of his future than ever— only to push open his door to behold the shocking sight of that crimson-coated criminal forcing himself on helpless, naked Liza! Hook’s one hand was pinning her wrists to the bunk. His man’s body moved in an obscene fashion, pressing down over the little girl’s, and his claw threatened to slash her innocent throat.

But Liza hadn’t screamed. A brave child, she had struggled valiantly for her honor. Dutiful toward her father even in her adversity, she obeyed his admonition to silence, uttering not so much as a single forbidden syllable. At once, Hanover perceived a losing battle for her virtue. He had arrived just in time. Another moment under that black-haired beast, and Liza would have been sullied for life. After such usage, no
good
man would ever have wanted her!

The facts had revealed themselves to Hanover as he stood clutching his walking stick, teetering in that one hideous second after the blow that laid Hook low. This despoilment was the ‘task’ Smee had arranged for Liza during her lesson, while his master counted on Jill’s allure to keep Hanover away. The miracle was that Hook hadn’t thought to clap the girl in her chains. Clearly, the man had planned this move, as evidenced by the bottle of spirits to combat her inhibitions, the fruit for flavorful distraction— the same method, no doubt, the pirate had used to seduce Jill. Hanover was pleased to find his daughter made of sterner stuff than anyone supposed. Obviously, she was more like her father than her mother, after all.

Further, Hook wasn’t satisfied with stealing Liza’s maidenhead. The pirate forced the girl to reveal her father’s valuables first, pilfering Hanover’s jewels into the bargain. His best piece, the bracelet, lay twinkling near the scene of the violence. Loose diamonds lay scattered on the floor— heaven knew how they got there! That ‘aristocratic’ pirate was the scum of the earth, and the Irishman no better. Their rapaciousness made Hanover’s blood run cold. It wasn’t enough for either of them to lay their filthy hands on Jill. They had to ruin Liza, too. No female, however young and inexperienced, was safe from their lasciviousness. The only wonder was that Liza had escaped Hook’s depravity this long.

But, here, Hanover accepted his own responsibility. No doubt it was Jill’s lack of attention that steered Hook’s lust toward Liza. The idea made the doctor’s heart swell with gratitude as the circumstances confirmed his hopes— Jill had been true to her fiancé all along. But then his spirit constricted. If Jill's neglect of the captain triggered Hook’s action against the girl, some of the blame was his own. Hanover’s presence had upset the balance, and Liza’s virtue almost paid the price.

Hanover had saved her. This time. He had stared at his daughter trapped under the inert form of the villain, and vowed again to get both females off this ship and into civilized society, where he could properly extend his protection and authority over them. All these thoughts tumbled through his mind as he clenched the bloody walking stick, and the time it took to think them compressed to the size of a diamond.

But now, on his bunk at daybreak, Hanover had time to string his thoughts out. Like a whole chain of diamonds, the problems stretched, hard and insoluble.

Hook’s downfall seemed such a fortunate event in the beginning. The solution to all the surgeon’s troubles. Confident he was beyond Hook’s control at last, Hanover cooperated with Cecco, maneuvering Jill out of her position of power and removing any obligation to her former master. Hanover was delighted to smooth Cecco’s path to the captaincy. The plan had worked beautifully, and before even LeCorbeau could have expected, the
Roger
was released from Hook’s domination.

Captain Hook’s attempt at seduction had, in fact, saved Hanover a great deal of trouble. LeCorbeau’s scheme would have been far more complicated to enact, and a clear violation of a physician’s oath to preserve life. The administration of the sleeping draught and a staged tumble down the stairs would have been difficult, but the plot’s most abhorrent aspect for an honorable man to carry out would have been the death of the captain, caused by a fall upon his own hook.

Now, of course, due to the obvious blow to Hook’s head, this ruse was out of the question. Even to a layman, it was plain the man had been attacked, and the surgeon would be the first to be suspected of the captain’s murder. But as events unfolded, Hanover seized his advantage without dishonor. In the immediate aftermath, Hook’s disappearance was a blessing for all.

And then, thanks to the Italian’s machinations, circumstances disintegrated into disaster. Not only did Hanover discover the duplicity of Captain Cecco; he learned the ugly truth about Jill. Dislodging her from her vices would be far more difficult than he at first believed, and Hanover had to steel himself for the task. Since recovering from his moment of weakness on deck, Hanover worked tirelessly to salvage the situation. He compelled himself to join forces with the Irishman— the lesser of two devils— to rescue Jill from the gypsy’s clutches. But by the time the oddly-matched allies ceased their contention and prevailed upon Mr. Yulunga to allow parley with the captain, it was too late.

Hanover couldn’t erase the vision of Jill in a state of undress— breathtaking— and degraded, indulging in fornication with that deceitful, opportunistic brute of a pirate. The woman desperately needed the corrective rod her future husband would apply, once he finally got her away from this ship of iniquity! Whenever he tried to banish the memory of her corruption, the other image haunted the blackness behind his eyelids— the derisive smile of Yulunga, ridiculing the good doctor’s gullibility. And now, the situation that seemed so advantageous had become like a powder keg— too volatile; Hanover might never find a way to save himself this time, let alone his wayward Jill. His wicked, wanton Jill.

§ § §

Immediately after the blow to Hook’s head, Hanover had reeled back from the bunk, his breast churning. The first thing he did was lock the door. Then, as Liza lay whimpering, murmuring nonsense, he seized a hunk of gauze from his medical supplies and scrubbed his cane clean. When, a moment later, the cane hung innocently on its hook by the door, Hanover tackled the bigger problem. With the bloody gauze, he tamped the wound on the captain’s head, then flung the rag out the porthole. Only when he felt pebbles slipping underfoot did he remember the diamonds. He plucked the bracelet from the desk and collected his jewels from the floor, scarcely noticing the pearl ring among them. Wondering if he should question Liza, he glanced at her as he worked. He decided against it. The poor girl was out of her head with shock, stroking the captain’s long black hair and smoothing it with her fingers. In any case there was no time. Hanover spoke to her, urgently.

“Liza. Keep quiet now.”

Rolling her eyes toward her father, Liza focused, surprised to see him. She panicked as she realized what he had witnessed. Glimpsing his cane in stoic stiffness on the wall, she crouched, waiting for his rage to erupt. But he was almost sympathetic as he hurried to replace the diamonds in his medicine bag.

“Do not upset yourself. I understand why you had to speak. I will not punish you; only keep quiet, as I told you.” Moving efficiently, he dusted off his fingers and removed his coat. Liza nodded. In a dreamlike daze, she continued to stroke the silk of Hook’s hair.

Sensing that, when his task was over, he must show not a wrinkle nor a hair out of place, Hanover hung his jacket on his chair. He went to work with a will, dragging the crimson velvet from Hook’s shoulders. If he noticed the noise, he made no sign, but Liza startled at the rip of red lining as the hook tore its way from its sleeve. Hanover was about to cast the coat out the window when he stopped to think. Making a quick search of its recesses, he noted the contents. He paused over the ring of keys, blinking as he considered, and then he slid them into his own pocket. Now knowing exactly what he must do, he bundled the coat and stuffed it under the bunk.