Eden's Pass Page 4

  That was it. It was as if she stood stark naked before the handsome Spaniard, as if he saw right through the canvas and linen of her boy’s togs to the woman beneath them. To make matters worse, it was as though he liked what he saw, which unnerved her even more than his unrelenting stare. Clearing her throat, she said, “Captain, if I may ask, where am I to sleep?”

  He blinked. “You will find a hammock in the hold.”

  “The hold?”

  “Aye. I will send Alejandro with you. You will fetch a hammock and return at once. Is this understood?”

  She nodded slowly. “Aye, Captain. I thought I might sleep with the others. I should like to see them, if that would be possible.”

  “No. I prefer my cabin boy be on hand when I need him. But worry not, there will be time enough for you to speak with your friends, Finn. I’ve no plans to keep you apart unless the need presents itself,” Iñigo added smugly. “And you will be relieved to know not a one has been remanded to the hold. All have agreed to sign on with us. Why, you might even share duties with one of them.”

  “I certainly hope so.” It was more curiosity than animosity, the need to prod him a bit as she added, “I cannot say how long I would be willing to serve you otherwise.”

  She struck a nerve. His brow rose higher still, and he dryly asked, “Do you threaten me, pup?”

  “Threaten?” Her snort was involuntary. “It’s hardly a threat, Captain. Rather, it’s the truth. I do not serve you willingly. I do not remain on this ship willingly. I do both because I must, not because I wish to. Therefore, I cannot say how long my good will might last, can I?”

  His brow fell back into place, and he said nothing. Smug satisfaction tickled her insides. That satisfaction dissolved, though, as he growled, “You terrify me, child,” and crossed his arms over his chest. “Mayhap I ought to whip some of the insolence from your bones? Mayhap you will think twice ere unleashing your wit.”

  Her bravado drained in a gush, ice replacing the blood in her veins at his reminder. She needed to sit. Now. Reaching out, she groped almost blindly for one of the other chairs. Not caring what Captain Sebastiano's reaction might be, she grabbed one, yanked it out, and moved around to sink into it.

  Iñigo watched, remaining silent, even as a smile played at his lips. It was obviously amusing to watch her fall apart. She only hoped she didn’t completely fall apart. It would be nice to retain what little dignity she had remaining.

  He cleared his throat. “And now you know how to avoid meeting the same fate, Finn.”

  Her nerve fled and she sunk back against the cool wood, pulling leaden air into her lungs, willing the dizziness to subside. How many boys fainted? Her tongue was thick, sluggish, as she managed to mutter, “Aye…Captain…”

  For a moment, Iñigo looked as though he almost pitied her. Then it vanished. She’d imagined it. If only she’d imagined the entire nightmare. If only…

  Chapter Four

  Finn was quiet as she followed Alejandro down a long, narrow corridor toward the ship’s hold. Alejandro kept three paces ahead of her, not speaking, not looking at her, in general pretending she did not exist, which was fine with her.

  The tangy sea smell gave way to a surprisingly thicker, sour odor as they drew near the hold. The tang of wet wood, old clothes, rats, and rat droppings grew stronger. Of course, given that hold was in the bowels of the ship, these were not at all a surprise. It wasn’t the worst perfume she’d ever smelled, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.

  She paid scant attention as Alejandro paused to light the dented lanterns hanging along the corridor, but kept her head down and tried not to dwell on the overwhelming aroma of mildew. It was difficult, as the odor grew stronger with each step until she could almost taste it. Concentrating on not tasting it, she hadn’t noticed that Alejandro had stopped until she plowed into his back.

  “The hammocks are here,” he grunted in heavily accented English, glaring at her over his shoulder as he thrust a tarnished key into the lock and twisted. The door protested with a slight creak. “In the back corner. Be quick.”

  He barely stepped aside to let her pass and she brushed against him, not caring about his surprised look as she stepped into the thick, dank air and even thicker, danker darkness. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “A candle, mayhap? I can barely see my hand before my face, never mind find a blasted hammock.”

  Alejandro let out a gusty sigh, but reached up to snatch at the battered lantern dangling from a hook outside the door. Without a word, he shoved it toward her. Feeling more than a little smug, she accepted it and turned back into the hold.

  The pale gold circle of light cast by the lantern did little to slice through the darkness, but as her eyes adjusted, it was clear that the smell wasn’t caused by lack of housekeeping. The hold was about as orderly as it could be, most of the crates and items stacked neatly, with rows between them for walking. There were about half a dozen trunks on the left hand side, again well-organized.

  Still, the stink wafted toward her. Walking further in and toward the right side of the hold, she lifted the lantern, slowly bringing it about. This was obviously the rubbish pile. Splintered crates, some more so than others, were stacked three high and shoved every which way. Some were waterlogged, their sides either bulging or collapsing. Broken pottery, chunks of what looked to be china, and dinged metal bowls littered the spaces between the crates. Her stomach tumbled as her eyes adjusted enough for her to make out the row of irons fastened to the wall just beyond the heap. There were two rows, one almost floor-level, the other slightly higher. Each manacle was attached to a short length of thick chain, which was bolted firmly to the wall.

  A foul odor rising from a heap of stained, moldy-looking rags stung her nose and she swallowed a rising gag, stepping closer to shine the weak light into that bleak corner. The flutter and scratch of scurrying feet sent a shiver down her back, making it easy to forget the terrible smell. The only thing she wanted was to find a blasted bed and escape the hot, dark, awful hold.

  It seemed to take an eternity, but she finally spied the hammocks in the far corner, just beyond the rubbish heap. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell of the worn hemp. She set the lantern carefully on the floor by her foot and reached up to catch the rope between her fingers. Swearing softly, she tugged on one, only to find it was tangled with half a dozen others.

  “Oh, hell…” she breathed, the air pressing in on her growing thicker by the moment. There was no breeze, no relief from the sticky heat and, by the time she freed it, she was almost drenched in sweat from her exertions. A sour smell stung her nose and she winced, realizing it was from her own body.

  “That bloody bath cannot be soon enough.” She yanked the hammock free, shoved it beneath one arm, and swiped the lantern up before rejoining Alejandro outside. “I believe this is yours,” she told him, shoving the lantern at him. Without waiting for him or a reply, she marched on ahead, back straight and head held up, back toward the captain’s cabin.

  Though her life aboard the María was not going to be much different from her life aboard the Smiling Jack, she still bristled at the vision of Iñigo Sebastiano standing before her, giving her orders. Having no option other than to obey him burned her gut until she worried she’d retch from it. At least with Beauregard, he was far more interested in rum than anything she might say or do.

  She returned to Iñigo's cabin, where he stood at his desk, his back to the door. “Where have you been, lad?”

  She stood there, arms overflowing with ragged hemp, unable to keep the disgust from her voice. “I was digging this out of your bloody wreck of a hold. You failed to mention I would have to dig into a mountain of rope to find a hammock, Captain.”

  He peered at her over one shoulder. “You may hang it in the corner, Finn. And be quick about it. It’s almost time for you to fetch my evening meal.”

  She resisted the urge to throw the damn ball of rope into the corner. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she h
adn’t eaten since her meager breakfast of stale bread and hard tack. Her mouth almost watered at his words. “And when do I eat, Captain?”

  He seemed a bit surprised by the question. “Hungry, lad?”

  Her belly growled again. “Aye. Famished, actually.”

  “Very well. You will dine with me this eve. Come morning, you will take your meals with the others. Will that ease your foul mood?”

  “I would like to share quarters with the others as well.”

  “That is impossible. You will remain here, as I said. Now, I have already said I’ll allow you to take meals with them. That should be enough, don’t you think?”

  She paused. The captain didn’t look annoyed, nor did he sound it, but she couldn’t be certain he wasn’t. He was most likely unaccustomed to sharing his meals with a lowly cabin boy. She nodded, forcing a note of gratitude into her voice. “Yes. It is quite generous, I suppose. And I suppose I ought but thank you, Captain.”

  Iñigo surprised her by smiling. “There is no need to thank me, boy. On the morrow, you will be cursing me for being one of the worst bastards on the seas.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Aye, Captain.”

  “Come, and I will explain how meals work onboard my ship.”

  “I think I ought hang my bed first.” Finn made to step around him, but the Spaniard only shifted to block her path. “Captain, it will only be but a moment.”

  “Ah, mayhap, but I am hungry now.” Iñigo's voice grew taut. “And I do not like having my orders disobeyed.”

  “And I will fetch your meal once my bed is hung.”

  “You will go now.”

  She stared up at him, holding his gaze despite her the growing nervousness in her belly displacing her hunger pains. “I think not, Captain.”

  A muscle in Iñigo's jaw leaped and his voice was taut as he said, “It wasn’t a suggestion, lad, but an order.”

  Finn held his gaze a few minutes longer, before turning away with a shrug. A muscle burned in her neck as Iñigo seized her tunic, jerking her head almost off her neck. She involuntarily squeaked when he lifted her clear off her feet.

  “I far more greatly appreciated your earlier complacence, lad. I most definitely prefer it to this show of spine. Let us clear up this matter at once.” Iñigo muttered through clenched teeth. “You will cease this insolence at once, boy. Or you will feel the sting of the lash ere this night is over.”

  Her blood ran icy at his low rumble. Her feet only barely scraped the floor as Iñigo lifted her to meet his eyes. Reaching deeper down to grab hold of her sinking courage, she gritted out, “Do what you will. I will not simply bow to you. As I said, my respect is earned, not given freely.”

  “¡Dios mío!” Iñigo swung her around, sending her reeling across the cabin. “You try my patience as no other has before, you whelp! Know you this?”

  Cool air rushed past her face and she skidded to a halt, bracing her hands flat against the door to absorb the shock. He’d hurled her with the greatest of ease, and she questioned the wisdom of her actions.

  Resting her forehead against the satiny wood, she gathered her racing thoughts and pushed away from the door, spinning to face him again. “Coward.”

  “Coward?” He laughed. “And why is that?”

  “Need you truly ask?” She gestured up and down with one hand. “Look at the size of you and then at me. You are a coward.”

  “I will remind you of your position, boy,” he sneered. “And now, I will show you to the galley. Familiarize yourself with it, as you will make several trips there each day.”

  His hand curled about her upper arm. Reflexively, she swung about, her closed fist slamming squarely into the captain’s jaw. His head snapped back from the force and he lost his grip on her arm at the same time.

  “¡Dios mío!” Iñigo stumbled backward. “What are you playing at, boy? Do you truly wish to test me?”

  Finn never imagined her punch could have such an impact. She resisted the urge to shake off the jarring pain coursing up into her shoulder. “Do not attempt to lay hands upon me again, and you’ll not suffer the consequences.”

  Blazing amber eyes told her she’d pushed too far. Unsheathing his saber with fluid grace, Iñigo stepped up, pressing the very tip of the blade into the hollow of her throat. “What did you say, boy?”

  Finn fought down a hiss of pain at the sudden, sharp sting of the cold steel. Iñigo's voice went from smoke and fire to flat and icy cold. His eyes also lost their fire, going equally cold. Fear rose up like a rogue wave, sending sweat pricking over her entire body. Still, it didn’t stop her whispered, “Coward,” which snuck out, despite her best efforts to withhold it.

  Iñigo pressed harder into her neck, sending her belly pitching wildly. Her toes curled in her boots as the sting grew into fire. She swallowed hard, trying to block out the growing pain, to block out the vision of his running the blade clean through her neck and impaling her against the wall. Sweat dampened her upper lip as she licked her lips and whispered, “Captain…”

  Iñigo swore hotly, yanking his sword back. Grabbing her shoulder with his free hand, he spun her back across the cabin, toward the far corner. “Get your bed hung, boy,” he growled, sheathing his weapon as he spoke. “And then you will fetch my supper.”

  Tears of relief flooded her eyes as her heart resumed beating. For a long, breathless moment, she had been convinced the Spaniard was going to dispatch her right then. She’d acted with great foolishness, baiting him in such a manner. Silently, she hurried to the corner, ignoring the still-present sting and dampness that was her blood trickling along her throat. Her stomach lurched. He’d actually cut her.

  Shoving it from her mind, she craned her neck and looked up. Hooks had already been bolted into the ceiling, and she made quick work at hanging the hammock from them.

  “Know you this, boy,” Iñigo's voice was tight with pent-up anger, “I’ll not tolerate this much longer. I will have you whipped. Make no mistake of that.”

  She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to reach up and rub her neck as she faced him again. Though she’d rather tread upon her own tongue, she had no choice but to utter her next words. “My apologies, Captain. It won’t happen again.” At least, not this day.

  “Stubbornness such as yours will cause you great trouble,” he replied, catching her chin in his hand and yanking her face to his. “Look at me when I am speaking.”

  She held his gaze steadily even as Iñigo let out a chuckle. “Ah, you think you’ve bested me, do you? Well, allow me to disabuse you of that notion at once. I admire your spirit, but will not tolerate disobedience. Pride can be an asset, but it’s also a liability. Take care to remember it, for I will tell you this only once. Your men are the only necks I’ve ever spared. If you do not learn your place, you will regret it.”

  Her mouth went dry. “Is that so?”

  “Oh, yes.” Iñigo nodded. “I’ve many ways to deal with your obstinacy, boy. For every order that goes ignored, I will order five lashes. Five lashes for the first infraction, and an additional five for each additional refusal. Think about that, won’t you?”

  She refused to look away despite the new chill sinking into her bones. “You would not dare.”

  “Oh, but I would. I’ve not the patience for your stubbornness. Not when what I ask is no different than what Beauregard most likely demanded as well. And I care not if your back is flayed raw. I will still expect you to fulfill your duties.”

  “You bastard.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Aye. That I am, indeed. Take care, lest you wish to suffer at your own hands. You will do as you are told, or you will suffer the consequences.” He leaned over, his nose almost touching Finn's. “And you, dear boy, will suffer the consequences. Know this—I make no idle threats. I will do exactly as I have described to you. Keep that in mind.”

  Her retort died on her lips. He bested her, for there was no way she could ever tolerate the lash. Not
again. Her stomach churned, a cold sweat moistening her from scalp to sole. Swallowing hard against the sour taste filling her mouth, she nodded slowly, her tongue feeling thick and furry as she muttered, “Very well, Spaniard. You are again the victor. I congratulate you.”

  She wanted to hit him again for his smugness, but her hands remained still as he said, “I thought that might make you see reason, my boy. Very well. Shall we continue? I should like my supper before dawn, if you’d not mind.”

  There was no graceful way to lose. The only thing she could do was acquiesce… For now.

  A smile played at her lips as she lifted her eyes to his. “Very well, Captain. What shall I fetch you?”

  After a light supper of delicious fish stew, Iñigo pushed back his chair, growling, “And now, Finn, you will now assist me in readying for bed.”

  It was fortunate she’d finished already, for she’d most likely have choked on her supper. Her belly clenched, but she said nothing, hoping she’d heard him wrong. Nay,he did not say what I think he said.

  He quickly disabused her of that notion.“Finn, now.”

  His warning echoing in her head and her belly roiling over undressing him, she slowly rose from her chair. “What am I to do?”

  “My dressing robe is in my armoire. Fetch it.”

  She stomped over to the armoire to yank open both doors. Diving in, she rummaged about, finally coming up with what looked like a rectangle of emerald green silk. Ignoring the heady, musky scent rising from fine fabrics to tease her nose and rattle her senses, she pulled the rectangle out. “Is this what you want?”

  He sat at the table, but got to his feet, nodding. “Aye. Now, come and help me undress.”

  She slowly closed the door, clutching the sleek silk in one fist. It was as cool as the ice plummeting into her belly, and fluid to the touch. Without a doubt, it was the finest garment she’d ever touched.

  She moved to stand before him, her belly alive with butterflies as she laid the robe on his vacated chair. Iñigo smiled down at her. “Help me undress.”