Page 8 of Mardon

“I never intended to hurt you. Your first mistake was to assume I would.”

“I’ll fight you until I die, I swear I will,” she warned him, holding her arms out in front of her.

“I’ll have you know I’ve never taken a woman by force, no matter what you think.”

“You’re a pirate! I don’t believe a word you say.”

“Mardon, come on,” shouted another man from the door to the ship’s cabin, who looked younger than Mardon and had long, blond hair. “Tristan said another ship is coming to help this one. Take what you want and get back on the Falcon fast. We’re no match for all of them.”

“I’m not ready yet, Aaron,” said Mardon, his striking blue eyes drilling into her. She pulled the blanket up to hide her nudity from the men.

“Oh, I see,” said Aaron with a slight chuckle. “Just bring her along.”

“Nay, Brother, I won’t do that. You know as well as I that a woman on board is bad luck. Now, come here and help me.”

“You want him to help you?” Emmaline’s heart about beat out of her chest. “B-but you just said you don’t take women by force.”

“I don’t.” He grabbed her hand and yanked her wedding ring off, holding it up to inspect it.

“Give that back to me,” she snarled.

“Nay, I don’t think so. This looks like it’s worth a lot of money.” He slipped the ring into his pocket, then reached over her to the wall, taking the painting next. “I might not take women by force, however, I do take everything else by force. After all, I’m a pirate. I want this naked painting of you to remind me what I almost had before you reneged on your offer.”

The pirate named Aaron rushed into the room to help his brother. For some reason, Emmaline felt insulted when he let her go so easily, opting for the damned painting instead. Feeling weak, her grip slackened and she dropped the blanket, exposing herself to the two men.

Aaron whistled, and almost dropped the painting, but Mardon scowled.

“Stop it, little brother,” snapped Mardon. “Now, let’s get this painting back to the Falcon before Tristan starts bitching that we’re taking too long.”

With their backs to the door, Emmaline saw Jean Philippe sneak into the cabin with his sword raised. He rushed right toward Mardon, meaning to kill him.

“Nay!” she cried. “Mardon – behind you.”

The pirate named Mardon unsheathed his sword with one hand, turning halfway around and thrusting his blade through Jean Philippe’s side in one move, never dropping his end of the painting.

Her husband’s body crumpled as he fell to the floor and dropped his blade. Emmaline saw the blood and screamed.

“Sorry about that,” said Mardon. “I hope he didn’t mean anything to you.” He wiped the blood from his blade on her husband’s back and stuck the sword back into his scabbard. When he did, she noticed the blood dripping down his forearm from where she’d stabbed him as well.

“God’s eyes, didn’t you two hear my command to get back on the ship?” Another pirate stood at the door. His long hair lifted in the breeze around him. She guessed he was the captain. “Oh,” he said, his eyes settling on her naked body. She suddenly realized she was still naked, and fell to her knees, holding the blanket in front of her.

“Let’s go,” spat Mardon, carrying his half of the large, heavy painting as they headed out the door. He turned and looked over his shoulder as they left. “I never did get your name,” he told her.

“What does it matter?” she asked him.

“I’d like to know what to call the painting. It’s a beautiful image and looks just like you. I don’t know why you sound so upset.”

“If that was a painting of your mother, would you be upset about it?”

“My mother is dead.”

“Then what if I were your sister? What would you do about it then?”

“Sister?” He chuckled. “If I had a sister who was stupid enough to pose for something like this in the first place, then I’d say she deserved whatever she got.”

“And what if she had no choice?”

“There is always a choice, my lady. It’s called the word no.”