Riley's Sleeping Beauty Page 9

  Unfortunately, her impolite stare seemed to incense him. He raised his hand as if to strike her.

  Abby swallowed hard and hurriedly apologized. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  “And what is it that ye are sorry for, milady?” he asked with a fierce scowl, though he did lower his hand to his side.

  His voice, low and lethal, suggested mentioning his scar would not be prudent. Unfortunately, that left her without much of an explanation for the apology. She would just have to brazen it out.

  “For intruding,” she said. “It was most discourteous. I’ll be going now.”

  The comment drew a raucous round of laughter from the onlookers and another ferocious scowl from their leader.

  “We are at sea, milady,” he reminded her, gesturing toward the distant speck of land. “I’m afeared ye will be going nowhere, unless it be to Davy Jones’s locker, should ye not prove cooperative.”

  What was it with these men? Abby wondered irritably. It seemed no matter when they lived or what their station in life, they all expected their women to be cooperative or biddable or docile. She supposed that when it was called for she could be as cooperative as the next person, but just as a matter of automatic, inbred, feminine compliance? Not a chance.

  It would probably be prudent to demonstrate rather forcefully that she would not back down from a fight, but the prospect of getting to her unsteady feet to do it held little appeal. Still, she had learned long ago that there was always strength and courage to do what must be done. Drawing in a deep breath, she finally managed to lurch up and cling to a railing with no assistance from the ungallant man in front of her.

  “I think perhaps there are a few things we should clear up at once,” she said in the most imperious tone she could muster while having to swallow the bile rising in her throat.

  “And what would those be, milady?” he inquired, casting an amused look over his shoulder at his men, who were regarding the scene with undisguised glee. Two in particular seemed ready and willing to join in the taunts. Oddly enough, they looked as faintly familiar as the disgusting man who stood before her.

  “You may start by telling me who you are and explaining how I got here,” she said in the brisk, no-nonsense tone that had always worked on her younger brothers and sisters. The man’s leering expression caused her a momentary pang. He did not look quite so easily intimidated as her siblings.

  “Me name is John, milady.” The leer intensified. “Blackhearted John, they call me on the high seas.”

  Terrific! She had been captured by a pirate with a reputation to uphold. It did not bode well for her getting off this rolling boat in one piece.

  “You brought me aboard?” she asked.

  “Ye was aboard, when we captured the ship in the Caribbean. It seemed there might be some good in keeping ye.” He grinned, while the raucous laughter behind him intensified. “For a time, at least.”

  Abby did not like the way this was going. Her prospects were so dim, in fact, that it hardly seemed to matter that she was much closer to the United States and home than she had been when she’d been in the Earl of Wilton’s care.

  “Where will you dock and when?”

  “What makes ye think ye get to ask the questions, milady?” he inquired, reaching out a filthy fingertip to touch her cheek. “I’ve tired of this nonsense.”

  Abigail hurriedly backed away, slamming into the deck’s railing and almost pitching herself overboard into the dark, churning sea. Apparently he took the insult as it was intended, because his gaze narrowed. He moved closer yet, and this time there was no place to which Abby could retreat from his foul scent and worse intentions.

  “So, is it that ye think ye’re too fine for the likes of me?” Blackhearted John whispered now, his breath hot and disgusting against her face. His hand closed around the nape of her neck and before she realized what he was about, his mouth was on hers.

  Incensed and sickened, Abby drew back and slapped him with every ounce of strength she had in her. He clutched his jaw and stared at her, and a gasp rose behind him. Silence fell as the men waited to see what their leader would do. That instinctive slap had been a very big mistake, she realized belatedly. If she had relied on her wits and her charms, perhaps she could have talked her way out of this mess eventually. Now, though, her goose was cooked for sure.

  For the first time she began to get the tiniest inkling that this was not exactly the rollicking adventure she’d halfheartedly hoped it might turn out to be, despite the very solid indications to the contrary. Now it was clear that her faint optimism had been unfounded. She had no idea where she was, how she’d gotten here or even what damned century she was in. For a woman who prided herself on being in tight control of her life, her present circumstances were not only disconcerting, they were downright irritating.

  Fortunately the self-defense course she had passed with flying colors had taught her a thing or two about taking men like Blackhearted John by surprise. It helped that he’d apparently been indulging in sufficient rum to provide a round of drinks for the entire state of Arizona. She watched and waited for his next move. She knew he wouldn’t allow that stinging slap to go unpunished, not with his crew looking on.

  He lurched toward her, hand upraised to box her ears or perhaps to clasp her neck and drag her to him for another unsavory kiss. Abby caught his hand in midair and flipped him. He landed unsteadily on his feet, a look of stunned surprise on his face. Then, with a roar, he attacked.

  Abby was ready this time. With a couple of deft moves, she managed to snatch the lethal knife he had strapped to his leg, while dumping him firmly on his rear. He landed with another outraged roar and rebounded with far more alacrity than she’d anticipated.

  His roar had also caught the attention of his previously idle, but evidently fascinated shipmates, who suddenly rushed to his aid. They surrounded Abigail so tightly she worried she would suffocate from the lack of oxygen or from the stench.

  Her only hope, she feared, was to slip away during the ensuing chaos and find someplace below deck to hide. She doubted anyplace would offer much protection from Blackhearted John’s murderous intent, but she could think of no alternative short of diving overboard and swimming to that island, which she could no longer even see. That was a poor option considering she had never learned to swim.

  She hunched down, scooted between legs, until at last she broke free of the mob. She paused, gasping for breath by the rail, taking in great gulps of salty air. All the while she scanned the ship looking for the passageway that would take her below deck.

  She had spotted it at last, when suddenly a pair of filthy, callused hands roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her close. The scent of rum and sweat was overpowering. There was no mistaking the source. She’d been offended by that exact combination all too recently.

  “Ye are a feisty one, milady,” Blackhearted John said approvingly, laughing in her ear. “It shall be a pleasure taming you.”

  “Let go of me, you fool,” she said, landing one kick squarely in his shins.

  “How dare ye call Blackhearted John a fool, milady! It is clearly ye who are the foolish one. If it is tempting fate ye want, then let that tongue of yours wag a bit more. I shall wait until ye finish, then I will set about showing ye how a lady can pleasure a man when she’s of a mind to.”

  “I am not of a mind to pleasure you or any man,” she snapped. “From what I’ve observed quite recently the whole lot of you could do with a few lessons in chivalry. Now put me down!”

  She tried to wrench herself free, but his clasp was like iron, and his temper had clearly been tested beyond its limits.

  “Damn you to hell!” she shouted as she pummeled him with her fists.

  “Aye and ye’ll be joining me there,” he said gleefully.

  Abby was still fighting like a hellion when he dumped her unceremoniously onto a bunk in some dark, dank cabin below. She had a feeling that as bad as things had been so far, the worst of their battle was yet to co
me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Abby thrashed against the pillow, muttering incoherently. It was as if she were struggling against some unseen enemy.

  “Shhh,” Riley soothed, keeping a worried eye on the monitor, expecting it to protest at any second. A caress of her brow seemed to quiet her. “It’s okay, Abigail. You’re coming back to us. I can tell. You’re getting more active every minute. Try a little harder, sweetheart. We need you.”

  “Finally admitting it, I see,” Jared said, strolling through the door at an inopportune moment, his perpetually smug expression firmly in place. He’d paid twice-daily visits since the ordeal had begun, and each time he’d had some similar comment to make.

  Riley reluctantly forced his attention from Abby to his friend. “Admitting what?”

  “That you’re in love with her.”

  Riley shot him a look of disgust. “How did you ever get anywhere in your career by jumping to conclusions like that? I thought all of you scientific fellows were deliberately slow and methodical.”

  “We also learn to take some evidence at face value. If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, et cetera.”

  “What the hell do ducks have to do with anything?”

  Jared grinned. Obviously he’d grown accustomed to Riley’s testiness and wasn’t the least bit intimidated by it. “In reference to archeological ruins or in reference to you and your lady friend?” he asked.

  “Abby is not my lady friend,” Riley repeated slowly, hoping he could get the message to sink in, but doubting the likelihood of it. “She is not my anything. Remember old Martin?”

  “The fianc;aae who is not sitting here by her bedside?” Jared said scathingly. “What does that tell you?”

  Riley sighed. “It tells me the man is an idiot.”

  “Besides that,” Jared prodded.

  “Make your point and shut up.”

  “She left him at home to be with you. You left a fortune in Mayan ruins buried somewhere in the rain forest to be with her. Adds up to commitment in my book. Strikes me as downright romantic, in fact.”

  “Don’t be absurd. I couldn’t very well let her stay in this hospital all alone, could I?” Even as he said it, Riley realized he was hip-deep in denial.

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “How committed to her you are.”

  Riley groaned. “Go away, Jared. Your circuitous logic is making me crazy. Don’t you have bones to dig up somewhere or something?”

  “Not until you find them for me,” he responded cheerfully.

  To emphasize the point, he pulled up a chair and settled comfortably into it. Obviously he intended to stay.

  “I thought I’d just stick close by and keep you company,” he said, as if his intentions weren’t all too clear.

  “Plague me is more like it,” Riley grumbled. “Why are you so fascinated with my love life? Don’t you have one of your own?”

  Jared’s expression turned smug again. “Yes, indeed, but it’s all nice and tidy. Lizbeth and I have the perfect understanding. No pressures. No commitment. Great...well, you get the picture. At any rate, it’s not nearly as fascinating as yours. I’m viewing your behavior as research.”

  He sounded too damned serious about it. Riley shot him a wary look. “Research? What kind of research?”

  “Sort of an anthropological study of the customs of the male in denial. You’re a classic case. You refuse to admit what’s right under your nose. I can hardly wait to see what it takes to make you wake up and smell the roses. Frankly I thought this would do it, but you’re a stubborn son of a bitch, I’ll give you that.”

  “Aren’t you mixing metaphors or something? For that matter, don’t you have a prior engagement someplace?” Riley inquired hopefully. “Maybe with that lady friend you claim to have?”

  “Nope, my calendar’s clean as a slate. Lizbeth’s back in the States. She doesn’t even expect a call from me for weeks.”

  “Some relationship,” Riley commented dryly.

  “It works for us. Now, about you and Abby...”

  Riley groaned. He could see he wasn’t going to shake Jared today no matter what. He dreaded the prospect of trying to ward off Jared’s well-intentioned insights into his psyche. He did not want to confront his feelings about Abby. It was as if some part of him knew that once he’d spoken them aloud, he wouldn’t be able to retreat. He would have to start examining the possibility of a future in which she played a very big part.

  And then he would have to make plans for how he would cope when he lost her. The prospect had him sighing heavily.

  “Riley?”

  He looked over into Jared’s concerned eyes.

  “All kidding aside, are you okay?” Jared asked.

  “I’d be a lot better if Abby would just wake up.” He glared at his friend. “And you’d feel better then, too, so don’t go making a big deal out of what I just said.”

  “Right. We’re just talking about friendly concern here, isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?”

  “Over and over,” Riley confirmed.

  “And I have a pig that’s taking off in flight any second now,” Jared shot back. His expression turned serious. “Look, it’s been days now. You haven’t left here. You need a break. I’ll stay with Abby. I’ll call you the second there’s any change. Go and get some real sleep, a decent meal, a shave and a long, hot shower.” He looked him over from head to toe. “Clean clothes would help, too. No wonder the woman doesn’t want to wake up. When she does, you’re likely to scare her to death.”

  Riley shook his head. “I can’t do it. She’s been restless. I think that could be a good sign. I want to be here when she wakes up. I don’t want her to think I wasn’t here when she needed me.”

  Jared nodded in satisfaction. “Told you so,” he said as he got to his feet. He squeezed Riley’s shoulder. “Don’t wait too long before you admit to yourself that you are well and truly hooked. Life’s too precious to go wasting a minute of it. You should already know that better than anyone.”

  He gestured toward Abby. “You could have lost her this time. Just think how you would have felt if you’d never had the chance to tell her you love her.”

  “I do not—” He didn’t get to finish the denial, because Jared interrupted.

  “Liar,” his friend accused. “You called old Martin an idiot earlier for not treasuring what he and Abby had. Don’t you be one, too.”

  Before Riley could reply to that, Jared was gone. Riley gazed down at Abby. “Is that what I’m doing? Am I being a fool for trying to protect you from myself, Abby? Nobody knows better than I do what a treasure you are. There were a lot of times in my life when knowing you was the only thing that got me through the day.”

  She stirred slightly, almost as if she could hear his praise. Or perhaps she simply sensed his confusion. As he wrestled with his conscience and his feelings, one word echoed in his head. Treasure. If Jared was right, he had one within his grasp.

  “I want you to be with someone who values you, Abby,” he whispered. “I think whoever discovers the treasure of your love will be the richest man on earth.”

  * * *

  Treasure? What was this talk of treasure, Abigail wondered impatiently. And if these pirates were so all-fired intent on finding it, why was this Blackhearted John wasting time on her?

  She dimly recalled that she had been intent on finding a treasure once, but something had happened. She struggled to remember what it was, but it was all a blur.

  The only reality seemed to be this foul-mouthed pirate with the fetid breath who had fallen asleep beside her before he could follow up on his obvious intention to ravish her. She’d never been so relieved in all her life as she had been when he’d collapsed, half on top of her, before he’d even had the time to strip her clothes from her.

  Holding her breath for what seemed an eternity, she waited to make sure he was sound asleep before trying to scoot carefully out from under him. His snores
continued to be loud and convincing. She was about a hundred percent certain he was down for the count.

  Freed of his weight, she eased off the bed and tiptoed to the cabin door, only to find the blasted thing locked. She searched high and low for the key. Naturally, he hadn’t been careless enough to leave it conveniently lying around. The huge key, she discovered after an exhaustive search, was on a ring, and that ring was safely attached to his breeches.

  “Damnation!” she murmured as she wondered if she were nimble-fingered enough to retrieve it without waking him. Perhaps she had pickpocketing skills she couldn’t recall along with all of the other memories that seemed to have vanished.

  At her first touch, the drunken pirate moaned loudly and rolled onto his side, the key partially beneath him. When she was satisfied that his sleep was deep again, Abby tried once more, slowly, slowly easing the key free. Finally she closed her fingers tightly around the cold metal and held it to her chest, heaving a sigh of relief.

  She had no idea where she would go if she made it out of the cabin. She would throw herself overboard if she had to. It would be better to drown than to suffer the misery and indignity of having this creature’s hands on her skin. As for any more intimate caresses, she was quite sure she would never survive the horror.

  She eased the key into the lock and turned it carefully, a fraction at a time, wincing with each squeak, holding her breath each time the metal scraped.

  And then the lock clicked. She eased the door open, put one foot across the threshold, drew in a deep breath and prepared to run.

  Before she could take the first step, a hand closed over her mouth and an arm yanked her back into the cabin.

  “Ye thought to flee from me, milady?” Blackhearted John inquired in a deceptively lazy tone.

  Abby bit him again, then let out a bloodcurdling scream as she fought like a banshee to free herself once more. “Let me go, you scar-faced, obnoxious, filthy cretin!”

  Either one of her blows landed effectively or he was stunned by her hateful words, because his grip on her slackened for just an instant. Abby seized the moment to run again, racing from the cabin and up the steps to the deck. She heard his footsteps pounding after her as she reached the railing, intent on throwing herself overboard.