few words like “kill” and “bastard.”
Jack tried to lift his hands but his arm ached like hell, and when he glanced down he saw blood streaming into the blond hairs on his forearm. Jack swore again and jumped back as the old man tried to make good on his threats. This time he eluded the cool bite of steel but struck his head on the bulwark in the process.
God, he detested the Spanish.
Jack resisted the urge to yank the pistol from his belt. Instead he sidestepped the next thrust and, catching the little man overextended, delivered a fight-ending right to the older man’s jaw. The sword clattered to the wooden deck, followed by the mound of ruffle-covered flesh.
With the tip of his boot Jack rattled the old-fashioned basket-hilted sword across the floor. He was reaching down to help the old man to his feet when he heard a barrage of Spanish behind him, and then a sliver of pain shot through his other arm.
“God’s blood!” Jack whirled around on the woman so fast she jerked back. But she still held the sword she’d scooped from the floor. He could tell she was frightened. Her eyes were wide and dark, but she kept the blade pointed at his chest. Unlike her father, or whoever the old man was, she didn’t seem inclined to attack him.
Jack stepped forward.
Miranda inched back. Her muscles were unsteady from holding the heavy sword. She longed to just drop it and run. But the pirate would catch her. And even if he didn’t, she couldn’t leave Don Luis alone with this monster.
The pirate glared down at her, powerful arms folded across his broad chest. Blood seeped from the wounds she and Don Luis had inflicted, but the pirate didn’t seem to notice as he watched her from eyes the color of deepest sea.
Then suddenly he lunged to his right. With a small squeal Miranda tried to follow the movement with the weapon. But before she realized her mistake, he lurched back and dove at her.
The sword sailed.
Miranda screamed.
The pirate grabbed.
Trying to evade his hands, Miranda jerked to the side. But her feet tangled in her skirts, and she tumbled to the deck. Caught off balance, the pirate followed.
Air gushed from Miranda’s lungs as his massive weight crashed onto her. She tried to breathe and couldn’t. Tried to move and couldn’t. She was smashed between the unyielding wood at her back and the equally hard weight above her. And that’s how she would surely die.
Miranda strove to remember that the body was only bones and muscle... that dying could be explained scientifically and thus was nothing to fear. But it didn’t help. She was going to die—die lying pinned beneath a pirate—and she didn’t want to.
Then suddenly the weight above her shifted. Miranda gulped air into her lungs and blinked back tears of relief. She wasn’t going to be crushed to death after all.
But there was still the pirate.
Blowing hanks of ebony hair from her face, Miranda focused on him. He stared down at her. Light twinkled from the gold loop dangling from his left ear. The expression on his face changed from annoyance to amusement while she watched. She liked the annoyance better. How dare he make light of her predicament. If he planned to kill her, then obviously there was nothing she could do. But she wouldn’t tolerate being laughed at.
Anger flashed through her. Normally she had an even temperament—her grandfather always said it was because she noticed very little of what happened around her. But he also said when temper finally came, it exploded with a vengeance.
It came now.
“Get off of me, you monster.”
“I never could understand Spanish,” Jack responded. Actually, he thought he caught the word monster.
The woman confirmed it by repeating herself in a language he had no trouble comprehending.
“Well, well, the little Spanish princess speaks the King’s good English.” Jack couldn’t help grinning.
“Of course I do. Now get up.” Miranda scrunched up her face and summoning all her strength