Chapter 14
Darcy had never known such fury and horror!
Yet Elizabeth looked as composed as a lady receiving guests at a ball.
He had always wondered how long her hair was when it was not smoothed and pinned into submission.
The sight of her untamed curls cascading over her shoulders to her waist made him want to bury his fingers in her tresses to test their silkiness.
The corners of her lips pulled into a smile, and Darcy felt her brave humor like a stab to the gut.
Were it not for him, Elizabeth would not be on this God-forsaken ship.
She would not be in danger. As if his faults to the one woman whose good opinion he craved were not enough, he could never forgive himself for exposing her to the likes of Alex and her crew.
Alex. Darcy leveled a glare at her.
She rolled her eyes and stood. “Stop scowlin’, Mr. Darcy. Ye ought to be happy to have yer young lady aboard. She’s as handsome as ye said, and intelligent.”
Darcy felt his frown deepen. He must have said a great deal more than just her name while he slept. Voice hard, his irate stare fixed on Alexandra, he said, “Ladies do not kidnap people at their will.”
She shrugged. “Ye never told me not to. How was I supposed to know?”
He had thought it obvious.
Alex continued, the satisfaction in her expression deepening Darcy’s ire, “Now that yer Elizabeth is here, she’ll take over me lady lessons while ye carry on with yer ship duties.
” She used Elizabeth’s fork to stab a piece of sausage from the plate.
“Very good,” she commented around her mouthful.
Tearing a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth, she said, “The bread is tougher than I like, though. Have Jean-Christophe show ye how to make it softer.”
Elizabeth looked down at her tray and up at Darcy, and he tried to control the burn rising to his cheeks.
For her to know he had been reduced to the role of a cook’s helper, a servant, was more than he could bear.
He turned his palms, hiding them against his trousers.
Where he did not have cuts and burns from the kitchen, he had blisters and raw flesh from the ropes aloft.
Oblivious to the consequences of her blabbering, Alex said, “When ye’re done with that, ye can race Cotton up the riggin’. How’re yer hands?” She motioned for him to hold them out for her to inspect.
He crossed his arms over his chest. A man could only take so much humiliation. “Strong enough to strangle you unless you return Miss Elizabeth to her family immediately.” His tone was murderous.
Darcy was not given to violence. Wickham’s continued existence was proof enough of that.
Before this moment, Darcy never would have believed himself capable of threatening a woman.
But Alex was his foremost enemy. The rage she inspired surpassed all that Wickham had ever provoked within him—all the anger and fear of a lifetime eclipsed in the blink of an eye the moment Darcy saw Elizabeth aboard the Fancy.
He had to protect her. He had to get her off this cursed ship. “We cannot be far from the shore. Return her.”
“Or what?” Alexandra purred, watching him like a cat with a bird in its paw.
“Or you shall regret it.” Darcy did not say the words lightly. He always meant what he said; he always kept his word.
She rolled her eyes. “Ye’re too honorable to do me any harm. I’m not afraid of ye, Darcy.”
“I am wealthy. I will pay.”
She huffed as if he had offended her. “I’m not interested in yer money. I need lady lessons from a real lady so Nick’ll love me like ye love her.”
Darcy’s heart seized in his chest, and his shame burned everywhere.
What would Elizabeth think of him now? He wanted to know more than anything, but he dared not look at her or risk losing his composure completely.
Was he so desperate, so obvious, that his feelings were an open book for anyone to read?
Taking a deep breath, he widened his stance, the ground feeling unsteady where it had been firm a moment before. “What kind of pirate is not interested in a fortune?” he asked.
Elizabeth gasped. “This is a pirate ship?” Her gaze roamed over him, seeing his wrapped hands, the bindings his clothing did not cover.
Color rose to her cheeks and, tossing the blankets off her legs, she stood.
She would have presented an irate figure had she not stumbled about with the swaying of the ship just as Darcy had done his first day.
But Elizabeth was not discouraged. Her courage rose as it always did. He loved that about her.
Bracing herself against the wall behind her, she glared at Alex. “How could you hurt a gentleman who would never raise his hand against a woman? What have you done to him?”
Alex grinned. “I like her. She has some fire.”
Jaffa, who had been quietly watching until now, warned her under his breath, “Take care not to get scorched, Cap’n.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I do not care for your good opinion. Answer my question. What have you done to Mr. Darcy?”
With a shrug, Alex motioned to his wrapped hands. “Those’re from climbin’ ropes and burnin’ his fingers on the galley stove.” She pointed to his leg. “And I’m guessin’ that’s from the keelhaulin’.”
“You dragged him under your ship? You might have killed him!” Elizabeth looked at him, the tender concern in her eyes making Darcy’s heart swell so much it hurt.
Alex waved off her concerns. “He told me himself that he knew how to swim, and only last month, the Fancy was careened and cleaned of barnacles. Me men knew I wanted him alive, so they pulled the ropes right quick.” She shrugged. “I knew he’d survive. Just like Nick would.”
Elizabeth heaved a breath. “Why make him suffer? What kind of monster are you?”
“I ain’t no monster.” Alex said uncertainly, showing the first glimpse of a conscience Darcy had seen in her. “I was upset. He was supposed to be my Nick. And he challenged me authority in front of me crew. What else was I supposed to do?”
“You could have rebuked him in the hearing of your crew. That would have been enough.”
Alex’s brows furrowed.
Elizabeth softened her tone. “Would your crew not appreciate knowing their captain is capable of mercy?”
Throwing her hands upward, Alex retorted, “I was bein’ merciful. I didn’t shoot him.”
Darcy supposed he ought to be grateful. Watching Elizabeth take on Alex in his defense curtailed his anger to a more manageable degree.
It did not, however, dampen his determination.
“A lady always controls her temper, a fact I could have taught you without dragging Miss Elizabeth away from her family.”
Crossing her arms defensively, Alex mumbled, “I’m the captain of this ship. I’m the one in control, and I say I can learn more about bein’ a lady from her than I can from you. She stays.” Jutting out her chin, she added, “And that’s final.”
Gracious, she was stubborn. “Over my dead body,” Darcy seethed between his teeth.
“No. Not that, please,” shouted Elizabeth, moving to stand between them and adding more quietly, “Never that, I beg you.”
Hope fluttered in Darcy’s chest.
Alex looked contentedly between the two, her gaze finally landing on Darcy. “Ye’d give yer life to keep her safe.”
He nodded. He would.
Squinting her eyes, Alex examined him, looking as though she were attempting to read his thoughts. Darcy would stir up a mutiny if it got Elizabeth to shore—to her family. He would not rest until she was secure and far away from this wretched place. Far away from Alex.
Finally, she spoke. “I see I’ll have to secure yer word—a promise on yer honor that’ll bind ye to accept me decision. Ye’d sooner stir up a mutiny than give up.”
Darcy would not deny it.
“Then there’s only one thing to do. How ‘bout a bit of sport?”
Darcy was listening. Until Alex wink-winked at him, just as she had before she had him thrown over the side of her ship.