Within A Captain's Hold. Lisa A. Olech
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determination surged through her. Anna hung onto it with both hands. She would get her ring back and find her way to Alice--or die trying.
Waiting, feigning sleep, she watched him work late into the night. He made a handsome picture in the yellowed glow of lantern light as he rolled up the wide sleeves of his shirt to work at his charts. Pulling his dark shining hair from its neat queue and resting with his long, booted legs upon the edge of his desk, he started to drink his brandy, and then settled in to sleep, at last.
The sky had begun to lighten when Anna slipped from the bed, her bare feet silent on the polished floorboards. Her leg still pained her, but it could bear her weight. If she could just get to the wide leather belt holding his sword. She thought to steal one of his pistols, but knew nothing about firing a gun. The thing would probably go off and take the other half of her leg, and the noise of the shot would bring the crew down to take the rest of her. No, the sword she could handle, and she’d get the key from him if she had to slice off those fetching pants of his. Let’s see if he likes having his clothing stripped from him.
Her gaze never left Jaxon as she limped across the room. His broad chest rose and fell with each steady breath. Almost there. Annalise reached for the strap hanging upon a peg behind his desk. Jaxon shifted position and grumbled something. She froze. Her heart pounded, and she held her breath in fright. He never opened his eyes. His light snores confirmed he still slept.
She examined the thick-tooled leather belt. Two flint pistols fit into snug straps, and the flapped box must hold his shot. The scabbard for the sword hung off to one side. She tried to slip his cutlass out but ended up pulling the entire belt from its peg. The weight of it had her scrambling to catch it and keep the whole thing from crashing to the floor. She shot a nervous glance to Jaxon. He hadn’t moved.
Clutching his pistols to her chest, she prayed she didn’t accidently fire them. Anna walked on tiptoes to keep the sword from dragging across the floorboards. She crept back the way she’d come until she was out of reach of the good captain and seated on the edge of the bed.
A leather-wrapped grip on the cutlass was the color of dark burgundy. Blood? Slowly tugging the wide sword from its sheath, she exposed the steel. She didn’t need to test its edge to see it was razor sharp. The blade bore slash marks and scars where it had met other blades. Annalise couldn’t begin to image the brutal viciousness of a pirate battle. How many lives ended with this blade alone? She shuddered at the thought.
The pointed tip of the sword slipped from the scabbard and fell slicing through the front of her chemise before its weight stuck the tip into the floor with a thunk. She gasped. Not because the blade came dangerously close to removing some of her toes, but because a pair of ice-blue eyes watched her.
“Good morning, Annalise. Planning to sharpen my blade?” His voice rumbled low.
A tremor shuddered up her spine. She struggled to wrench the cutlass from the floor and lift the heavy blade. Anna held on with both hands and pointed the weapon at him.
“I-I want my ring, and…and I want you to do whatever you need to do to turn this boat in the direction of Port St. Maria.”
“You’ve ruined your chemise.” Jaxon raised an eyebrow as his gaze traveled the length of her, and back again.
The sword had cut a slit in her skirt, running halfway up her thigh. She might as well be naked. The tremor within her increased to a quake. Her teeth chattered until she clamped them shut and spoke through a clenched jaw. “I’ll take care of my lack of wardrobe later.”
He smiled. This was all a joke to him.
Her resolve began to slip. Did she honestly think this madness would work? I can’t back down, I’ve gone too far. “I want the key to your desk. Now, please. Or perhaps I’ll ruin a perfectly good pair of breeches, too.”
Jaxon stood. Annalise braced herself, but he didn’t make any move toward her. He held his arms out to his sides. “You know where I keep the key. Come and get it.”
“I’m not fool enough to do that.”
He cocked his head. “Nay, but you’re foolish enough to take a pirate’s sword.”
The condescension in his voice pricked at her. “And you’re foolish enough to let me.”
“Touché.” He grinned. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, m’lady, but the ring is mine. I’ve told you. And this ship is sailing to Port Royal. There will be no changing course. Certainly not to Port St. Maria. So, you see, all this bravado is a waste of time.”
“I won’t give up.”
“You’ve already lost the battle.”
Her arms burned from the weight of the cutlass. Her injured leg shook under the strain. He was right. She didn’t stand a chance. The size of him. Her gaze ran from the narrow taper of his hips to the top of wide shoulders filling the linen shirt he wore. Open to the waist the muscles of his chest and abdomen showed his strength. There would be no getting by him. Two strides and he could kill her.
“I’m not afraid of you.” She’d never told a bigger lie.
“Well, then, you’re going to need some instruction. The cutlass can be a difficult weapon to handle.”
“A sword is a sword.” She shrugged one shoulder and adjusted her stance. I’m insulting his weapon? Her father warned her, pride would be her downfall one day. Today may just be that day.
“My cutlass is not a simple sword. See how wide the blade is? You could run at me and try to stab me, but the best way to kill me would be to swing the blade. You’re strong enough to cut through bone, right? Or you could just aim high and catch me here.” He tipped his head and pointed to a spot on the side of his neck. “Now, the wound would kill me, but not instantly, and blood would be everywhere. Besides, begging your pardon, you’re a bit too short to get the high arc you’d need for a swing like that.”
A slow tapping sounded at the door. Anna’s arms screamed with their effort. I’m dead. I cannot fight one let alone two. “Don’t open that.”
“If I don’t, Cookie will just come back, and I doubt if he’ll come alone.” Jaxon smiled and opened the door. Cookie walked in with a wooden trencher of bread, cheese, and what appeared to be a pitcher of ale. He slid the tray onto Jaxon’s desk.
“Mornin’, Capt’n.” He glanced at Annalise. “Good morn to ye as well, miss. Nice to see ye’re feelin’ better.”
“Anything you need to report, Cookie?” Jaxon’s stare never left hers.
“Nope. Everything’s right as rain.” He grinned a near-toothless grin. “Ye be needin’ anything else, Capt’n?”
“No, I think I’ve got all I need.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’ll be leavin’ ye to break yer fast, then.” Cookie moved to leave.
“Wait.” Jaxon stopped him. Annalise’s heart skidded. “There is one other thing. The lady is in need of some clothing. She’s ruined her last stitch.”
“Aye, Capt’n, I ken see that.” Cookie looked her over. “I think I ken scrounge something in yer size, miss. Won’t be no fancified skirt, but it’ll cover yer arse.”
Jaxon chuckled. “Good man. Thank you.”
Cookie tugged at the front of the cloth covering his head as if tipping a cap, then left. Jaxon moved to the desk, pulled at a bit of bread and held it out to her.
“You must be hungry. Come and eat. If you’re planning to hold that cutlass on me all day, you’ll need your strength.”
She shook her head.
Jaxon sat on the corner of his desk and popped the bread into his mouth. “Your stomach’s not still flopping about like a dying fish, is it?”
Annalise swallowed as