The Duke with the Dragon Tattoo (Victorian Rebels, #6)(41)

“A pirate could,” Veronica wailed, gesturing wildly to the Rook. “Just look at him. He’s enormous!”

Their audience found no end of amusement in her declaration.

“Just wait until she sees ’im without his trousers. She’ll faint dead away,” one chortled.

“Take ’em both, Captain. The pretty one could teach the other one what to do, and then you could show ’em a thing or two.” Another’s salacious suggestion was met with howls of encouragement.

Lorelai heated with abject mortification. As much as she was used to being the brunt of a joke, it still stung when they laughed.

The other one? Not the most hurtful moniker she’d been subjected to, granted, but still. Veronica was the pretty one. She … was the other one. Though, on a pirate ship, her status might, for once, be an advantage.

Except … the Rook didn’t want the pretty one.

He wanted her.

“The next man who makes a sound loses his tongue.” The Rook’s soft threat had immediate effect. Silence landed like a heap of bricks. They might as well have been alone on deck.

Lorelai turned to Veronica and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be all right. Every time we’re broken, we get back up and limp along. Isn’t that what we’ve always said?”

“Don’t leave me alone.” Tears streamed down Veronica’s cheeks and she backed away to the railing, her wild eyes finding the hulking forms of surrounding pirates in the swiftly dissipating mists. “I’ll jump into that ocean before allowing you to leverage yourself for me.” She scooted onto the railing, readying to hurl herself backward into the sea.

“No!” Lorelai stumbled forward, but was caught around the waist and hauled back against the Rook’s unyielding body.

Moncrieff surged out of the fog, and scooped Veronica off the rail at the exact, breathless moment she’d released herself to the whims of gravity. Once again, he ignored her screams and struggles as he carried her back toward the blue room with long, furious strides.

Lorelai panted with equal parts horror and relief. She’d almost lost her dearest friend in the terrible blink of an eye. Thank God for Moncrieff’s reflexes. She’d not have made it in time.

The Rook breathed a faint sound in her ear. “How noble you both are. It’s almost inspiring.”

“Someone has to be,” she spat.

“On the contrary. The sea demands no such nobility, and neither do I. One of the many appealing aspects of being a pirate.” Stooping down, he scooped her up with an arm behind her knees, and the other supporting her shoulder blades.

Pirates, apparently, were predisposed to carry their female captives.

It occurred to Lorelai to protest, but she immediately thought better of it.

“See that we’re ready to disembark for Ben More at dusk,” he ordered the faceless crew in the mists.

“Aye, Captain,” came several calls.

“When the fog clears, you’ll find we are near Tobermory on the Isle of Mull,” he continued without looking back. “You’ll all be happy to note a bevy of eager young ladies from the Siren’s Song brothel preparing to board.”

It astounded Lorelai that the crew saved their roars of delight until she and the Rook had taken their leave, still unwilling to disobey their captain’s order for silence.

It seemed she was not the only woman who would be ravaged aboard the Devil’s Dirge today.

They passed Moncrieff in the hall as he threw the bolt home on the blue room before pressing his back against the door. Veronica’s fists knocked against her prison, her cries barely audible from within the sealed room.

“You think it’s a good idea, Captain, to bring these ladies aboard this ship, with these men? If anyone but Barnaby had happened upon them trying to escape—”

“Why else do you assume I provided the whores?” The whisper of a smirk tugged at the Rook’s lips. “The crew will be appeased.”

Moncrieff considered this, then shrugged. “That’s why you’re the captain.” He gave the Rook a two-fingered mock-salute, and sauntered off. “I suppose I’d better inspect our new cargo when they arrive … sample the goods.”

Lorelai hung passively in the Rook’s arms until they reached his lush quarters and he kicked the door closed. Delectable smells cloyed around her and she blinked over at a sumptuous repast laid out on the table she’d tripped on the night prior.

Another throne had been added to his, this one upholstered in green velvet.

How had he managed such a feast so quickly? She’d only just left this room not a quarter hour ago or so …

Of course. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling foolish and small. He’d known the moment she’d left his quarters. He’d allowed her to get as far as she did in the mist, because he’d known someone would stop her.

Or that he would.

So, what now? Did he mean for them to dine together before or after he took her virginity?

Despite the tension she sensed in her captor’s arms, the grim displeasure visible at the corner of his mouth, he set her down with care. He stabilized her with strong hands and didn’t release her until she’d gained her balance.

The imprint of his fingers lingered on her arms long after he’d moved to a secretary desk and lifted the lid to riffle through a few papers contained inside.