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After what seemed like an eternity, he broke the surface. Gasping in air, he heaved the sack over the edge of the deck, then hoisted himself up after it.
The sack thudded softly, then lay motionless.
Kneeling, Slayde was only minimally aware of the rapidly retreating brig, far too worried about Aurora to concern himself with the fate of his gem. His fingers shook as he gripped the loosely tied cord atop the sack, cursing as the wet fibers resisted, ripped at his flesh.
He whipped out his blade, slashing the material from top to bottom, shoving it aside to give him access to the woman within.
She lay face down, her breeches and shirt clinging to her body, masses of wet red-gold hair draped about her.
He rested his palm on her back.
She wasn’t breathing.
Shifting until he was crouched at her head, Slayde cut the bonds at her wrists, folded her arms, and pillowed them beneath her cheek. Then he pressed down between her shoulder blades—hard—finishing the motion by lifting her elbows in a desperate attempt to force water from her lungs.
He repeated the action five times before he was rewarded with a harsh bout of coughing.
“Shhh, it’s all right.” Relieved as hell, Slayde shifted again, trying to soothe the wracking shudders that accompanied her coughs, determinedly helping her body expel all the water she’d swallowed and replace it with air.
At last, she lay still, unconscious but breathing, battered but alive.
Gently, he eased her onto her back, now taking the time to assess her injuries, simultaneously releasing her from the confines of imprisonment. Broken ribs were a certainty, he thought with a grim scowl, given the force with which she struck the boat. A concussion was a distinct probability as well. Not to mention cuts, bruises—and Lord knew what else. His mind racing, Slayde tucked aside her hair and pulled the obscuring cloth from her eyes.
Blinding realization was followed by a savage curse.
The young woman was not Aurora.
Chapter 2
COURTNEY FELT AS IF she’d been struck by a boulder.
Excruciating blows hammered at her head, throbbed in her skull.
“Papa…” The very utterance of her hushed word triggered a violent bout of coughing—and a vague awareness that something terrible had happened, something too devastating to endure.
“Don’t try to talk.”
Whose voice is that? She wondered between coughs. She was acquainted with every member of her father’s crew, and the deep baritone belonged to none of them.
“Papa?” she rasped again.
“Just rest. We’ll be on shore in a matter of hours.”
Shore? They were miles and days away from delivering their cargo to the Colonies. So why in the name of heaven were they headed for shore?
Valiantly, she brought her choking under control, fought the pain that separated her from reality. “My head…and chest…ache so…”
“You swallowed a great deal of water. As for your head and chest, you struck them both—violently. That’s why I want you to lie still; I believe you have a concussion and several broken ribs. Not to mention some impressive bruises, any of which could be harboring broken bones. Unfortunately, I haven’t the necessary supplies to tend to such extensive injuries. But we’ll rectify that as soon as we reach land.” A pause. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Name…” She wished she knew who this man was. Cracking open her eyelids, she could make out only his powerful frame, which seemed to fill the entire length of the vessel on which she lay. Then again, that wasn’t so impressive a state of affairs, considering how small a vessel it was. Small and unfamiliar—with an equally unfamiliar, though anything but small, captain. “Who are you?” she managed.
“A victim. Just as you are.”
Victim. That one word opened the portals of Courtney’s memory, spawned a deluge of unbearable images. Her father…being attacked by that filthy pirate, torn from the quarter-deck, bound and gagged…wrested from his rightful place at the helm. And Lexley…complying at pistolpoint, tying a huge sack of grain to her father’s leg, looking anguished as he ordered Greene and Waverly to take Courtney below. Oh, how she’d kicked and fought as they dragged her off. Then…her father’s scream, followed by that sickening splash.
He was gone.
“No!” With an agonized shout, Courtney sat upright, then fell back with a strangled cry. Blinding pain merged with waves of nausea, and she felt the oncoming sickness an instant before her stomach emptied its meager contents.
