She stirred slightly, almost as if she could hear his praise. Or perhaps she simply sensed his confusion. As he wrestled with his conscience and his feelings, one word echoed in his head. Treasure. If Jared was right, he had one within his grasp.
“I want you to be with someone who values you, Abby,” he whispered. “I think whoever discovers the treasure of your love will be the richest man on earth.”
* * *
Treasure? What was this talk of treasure, Abigail wondered impatiently. And if these pirates were so all-fired intent on finding it, why was this Blackhearted John wasting time on her?
She dimly recalled that she had been intent on finding a treasure once, but something had happened. She struggled to remember what it was, but it was all a blur.
The only reality seemed to be this foul-mouthed pirate with the fetid breath who had fallen asleep beside her before he could follow up on his obvious intention to ravish her. She’d never been so relieved in all her life as she had been when he’d collapsed, half on top of her, before he’d even had the time to strip her clothes from her.
Holding her breath for what seemed an eternity, she waited to make sure he was sound asleep before trying to scoot carefully out from under him. His snores continued to be loud and convincing. She was about a hundred percent certain he was down for the count.
Freed of his weight, she eased off the bed and tiptoed to the cabin door, only to find the blasted thing locked. She searched high and low for the key. Naturally, he hadn’t been careless enough to leave it conveniently lying around. The huge key, she discovered after an exhaustive search, was on a ring, and that ring was safely attached to his breeches.
“Damnation!” she murmured as she wondered if she were nimble-fingered enough to retrieve it without waking him. Perhaps she had pickpocketing skills she couldn’t recall along with all of the other memories that seemed to have vanished.
At her first touch, the drunken pirate moaned loudly and rolled onto his side, the key partially beneath him. When she was satisfied that his sleep was deep again, Abby tried once more, slowly, slowly easing the key free. Finally she closed her fingers tightly around the cold metal and held it to her chest, heaving a sigh of relief.
She had no idea where she would go if she made it out of the cabin. She would throw herself overboard if she had to. It would be better to drown than to suffer the misery and indignity of having this creature’s hands on her skin. As for any more intimate caresses, she was quite sure she would never survive the horror.
She eased the key into the lock and turned it carefully, a fraction at a time, wincing with each squeak, holding her breath each time the metal scraped.
And then the lock clicked. She eased the door open, put one foot across the threshold, drew in a deep breath and prepared to run.
Before she could take the first step, a hand closed over her mouth and an arm yanked her back into the cabin.
“Ye thought to flee from me, milady?” Blackhearted John inquired in a deceptively lazy tone.
Abby bit him again, then let out a bloodcurdling scream as she fought like a banshee to free herself once more. “Let me go, you scar-faced, obnoxious, filthy cretin!”
Either one of her blows landed effectively or he was stunned by her hateful words, because his grip on her slackened for just an instant. Abby seized the moment to run again, racing from the cabin and up the steps to the deck. She heard his footsteps pounding after her as she reached the railing, intent on throwing herself overboard.
Her longed-for plummet into the sea was apparently not to be. Arms of steel circled her waist and dragged her back, even as her ears were filled with a string of vile curses. Carrying her over his shoulder, the pirate crossed the deck with long, angry strides.
The foul-tempered, even more foul-smelling beast had placed one foot on the ladder leading below deck when Abby heard an authoritative command ring out from a man, who until now had been silent. She didn’t particularly care where he had been. His sudden, timely appearance was most welcome.
“Put her down, Higgins.” When the order wasn’t immediately obeyed, he added in that same quietly lethal tone, “Now, Higgins.”
Higgins, she thought. How much tamer that sounded than Blackhearted John.
As she listened to it, she realized that the voice that had addressed the pirate was oddly familiar and, despite its firmness, strangely seductive. Abigail felt her captor stiffen, felt the taut set of his shoulders. If anything, his arms tightened around her as he spewed forth another stream of invective, most of which she could barely understand. She waited with bated breath for the response from her would-be rescuer. Hopefully they wouldn’t decide on a little sword play with her as Blackhearted John’s shield.
“On the count of three, Higgins,” the man said impatiently. “Or you will find yourself at the end of the plank looking into the face of death. The sea will bring you cold comfort.”
A shudder swept through the pirate, communicating itself to Abigail. She waited with some impatience herself for his decision. As she saw it, the choice seemed clear-cut. Unfortunately, her captor’s wits were highly suspect.
The standoff lasted an eternity, the count spoken slowly and provocatively. On three, the pirate fouled the air with one last curse and dropped her onto the deck like a sack of potatoes. The fall jarred her teeth, but she considered that to be scant price to pay for her freedom from the man. Without looking, she heard his footsteps receding as he stormed away, probably for more of that rum to drown
