The Captain of All Pleasures Read Free Page A

more, if he’d upset the animals, then he should have made some effort to calm them.
    â€œJust what do you think you’re doing down here, sailor?” she demanded, each word she spoke underscored by the solid click of her boots as she marched toward him.
    But as she neared him, something inside her, some oftignored instinct, told her to proceed warily.
    He didn’t answer, just rose and turned to her. Her breath leached out in a hiss.
    The man bore a purplish, bubbled scar that curved over his forehead and down through a vacant eye socket. A foul odor emanated from him. It was the smell of gin, refuse, and…blood. She gagged, her eyes watering as she swallowed to keep from retching.
    After several shallow breaths, her wits returned. This couldn’t be one of her father’s men. Which meant…which meant that she was in trouble. Again.
    The play of emotions over her face must have amused the scarred man, because he grinned, revealing teeth that resembled little chunks of charred wood. She couldn’t stop the widening of her eyes, or the hasty step back.
    With her next step, she drew a deeper breath, regretting it immediately as his reeking form moved toward her. She managed to say, “Carry on, sailor. M-my apologies.”
    For a second, then two, she awaited his reaction. How could she attract the guards’ attention when the animals obviously hadn’t? Could she outrun him? She was in trousers—she might be able to escape to the deck if he came after her. She should try…she really should move .
    Just as she spun toward the companionway, the man called out, “Don’t think we’ll be wantin’ ’er to go nowhere, Clive.”
    Appearing out of the shadows before her came a hulking second man, a man she sensed was even more dangerous than the first.
    Two of them, in the hold. With her.
    Nicole gaped at this new man’s equally alarming appearance. She found herself morbidly fascinated by his pie-plate face, round and stamped down except for the bulbous protrusion of his lips. She watched him much like a bystander witnessing a terrible carriage accident, mouth parted, too horror-struck to move.
    An instant later, the will to defend herself rose up, and her eyes darted all around to spy out a weapon. But she wouldn’t be able to grab the hold’s shovel or pitchfork before either of the men could get to her.
    Then she spied the haphazard arrangement of tools on the floor beside the second man. The bastards were here to sabotage them! Fury spiked through her before settling like a weight on her chest, but she bit it back and said, “I am sorry for interrupting whatever repairs you’re doing down here. I’ll be going back up to my cabin…so good night.”
    â€œYou ain’t goin’ nowhere, lady,” the man called Clive said through those beefy lips. “I think you’re goin’ to stay with us and keep me ’n’ Pretty comp’ny for a spell.” His voice was guttural and his leering eyes scoured her body. Revulsion racked her. She flexed and closed her fingers as she fought for control. “You didn’t think I’d let a comely piece of puss like you leave without me givin’ you a good toss, did you?”
    â€œNow, ’old on, Clive,” Pretty protested from where he’d stopped, not five feet from her side. “The boss didn’ say nothin’ about tuppin’ nobody tonight.” He scratched intently in his greasy hair as he suggested, “Let’s me ’n’ you finish up ’ere afore we get caught, ’n’ then we’ll take care of ’er.”
    â€œBugger you, Pretty,” Clive said as he reached for the front of her cloak. A panicked screech burst from her lips. She kicked out at him. The stiff toe of her boot planted into his knee before she dashed around him, narrowly shimmying past his enraged lunge.
    â€œHelp! Somebody help me!”