Beautiful Tempest (Malory Family #12)

“Is that where you put them? In the hold?”

He didn’t answer, said instead, “I take it you aren’t blushing?”

“I have a good imagination. I frequently imagine you walking about naked. It’s amusing.” After a silent moment, she wondered aloud, “Are you blushing?”

“No,” he said in an amused tone. “Just surprised that we have the same imagination.”

She drew in her breath and her cheeks got hot. Bloody hell. She turned over loudly to face the bulkhead, but her remaining dagger was strapped to her thigh, so she turned again.

“Sweet dreams, Jack.” A definite chuckle.

“They will be, full of gore and you dangling from a hangman’s noose and—”

“Spare me the details, please.”

The room suddenly blackened when clouds got in the way of the moon, but she wasn’t going to let the darkness lull her to sleep. She had to do something tonight before the ship sailed farther away from England. She had to find Jeremy, commandeer the ship while most of the crew were sleeping. Finish off Bastard . . .

The thought of hurting anyone disturbed her, but this man deserved it. Not only had he kidnapped her twice, he was now holding Jeremy and Percy as hostages. And he was in the employ of some nefarious pirate who was determined to kill her father. She had to do it. It was the only way she could get the key and unlock the cabin door. If she tried to pick the lock with her dagger, she knew he’d hear it and take away her last weapon, rendering her utterly helpless again. She hated that he was such a light sleeper, wouldn’t even be surprised if he slept with one eye open.

The moonlight came back, but only for a second. But its absence made her worry that storm clouds had arrived. There’d been none the last time she’d looked out those barred windows, but that had been hours ago.

Rain and a thunderstorm would be the worst luck. There was no way Bastard would sleep through that. But she had no clue if he was sleeping yet and probably wouldn’t get one since the man didn’t snore.

When enough time had passed to ensure he was asleep and the moonlight had come back, she got her dagger from her thigh sheath before she stood up and tiptoed over to Bastard’s bed. The nice weapon had a seven-inch blade, sharp and lightweight, made just for her. She positioned herself at his bedside and bent over him before she reached for the key. It was where he usually kept it, in the right-side pocket of his trousers, but she wondered why her removing it didn’t wake him, light sleeper that he was. Then she saw that it had. His eyes were open and locked to hers. The only reason he remained perfectly still was because now that he was awake, he couldn’t help but feel the blade she held pressed to his neck. It was now or never.

But before she delivered the coup de grace, she couldn’t resist telling him, “You shouldn’t have done this again. You should have stayed far, far away from me and my family.”

He said nothing, didn’t even try to talk her out of killing him, but she felt his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her head slowly down to his. She pressed her blade more firmly against his throat as a warning, but he didn’t stop until their mouths touched.

It was almost magical, how arrested she suddenly was. And it was no brief kiss this time. His lips moved over hers slowly but with such passion, she was drawn deeper and deeper toward an intimacy she’d never before shared with anyone. The thrill was in full bloom, making her heart pound erratically, stealing her breath. This is what she’d wanted that night at the ball when she first met him, what drove her to the park with such excitement to see him again.

First met him? No, not him, but the charming, mysterious . . . What she felt in that moment was overwhelming her senses, so much that she was helpless to resist temptation like that. Then she tasted his tongue against hers, and the thought intruded—shouldn’t she bite it?

That was a cold dousing. She lifted her head and heard him say, “Does that tell you why this happened again?”

“Not bloody likely.”

But she realized the dagger was still in her hand, still pressed to his neck. He’d missed his chance to disarm her so he could kiss her instead? Fool! But she couldn’t bring herself to slash his throat now. That was a little too gruesome for her. So she moved the blade to the side of his torso and thrust it in, hearing him groan, before she broke away from him and ran to the door.

“Jack. Jack, wait—”

She didn’t hear the rest if he said anything more. With the key turned and the door pushed open, she bolted out of the cabin. The deck was dark, but still someone spotted her and shouted to alert the crew. So much for finding her brother and gaining control of the ship. She hesitated only a moment to kick off her boots before she dove over the railing. She might or might not make it back to England, but either way, the pirates wouldn’t be able to use her to control her father.

Good God, the water was cold, but in moments she was behind the ship as it sailed on, and she continued to swim in the opposite direction. She could do this. She was a good swimmer. And she could rest from time to time, floating on her back. Surely another ship would come along and rescue her before too long.

At least she didn’t have to worry about Jeremy and Percy. She’d convinced Bastard they meant nothing to her, and he’d shared that with the crewman he’d called Mort, so surely they’d be let go as soon as they reached land. Bastard obviously hadn’t died immediately, but she hoped she’d hit something vital and he would bleed out within the hour.

Would his crew sail back to England without him to try to capture her again? If they did, they would definitely beat her back there. And then it started raining. She stopped to glance back, but she couldn’t see the ship, probably because the rain was coming down so hard. But she couldn’t have gotten that far from it yet. She looked on each side of her, but still couldn’t see it, so continued on. After a moment she stopped again with the horrible realization that in turning about, she might have lost her direction to England. If she swam right back to that bloody ship . . .





Chapter Seventeen




JACQUELINE SCREAMED WHEN SHE felt something touch her side, thinking of scary things in the sea. But she couldn’t mistake the arm that was suddenly wrapped around her chest, or the voice that said, “You are the most aggravating woman.”

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