looking for Priest, would Priest sneak aboard HMS Blitz in the harbor? Would he kill Ashley when he learned I’d been imprisoned elsewhere? Or would he die during the confrontation, surrounded by hundreds of Ashley’s soldiers?
That terrified me more than anything.
It had been my choices in life that brought this situation upon me. Not Priest’s. If he died trying to rescue me, the guilt would destroy me. The possibility of any harm coming to him or Ashley hurtled my pulse into hopeless panic.
From the time Ashley had handed me over and thence—in the brutish but fashionable way of the Royal Navy—consigned me to this hole of death, the grief I’d felt then still panted in my heart. Though my tears over his rejection had long since subsided.
I couldn’t blame him for doing his job to the utmost. I couldn’t accuse him of betrayal, either, for he’d never promised me freedom or happiness or even life. How many times had he told me I would stand trial? He’d specifically warned me he would hurt me again.
There had been no trickery or lies on his part. He’d voiced exactly how this would end and followed through on his word.
I hated him for it. Despised him to the depths of my heart. I had no choice. I needed an outlet for my helpless rage, and he was it. The longer I sat in solitary darkness, the more my thoughts suffered for it until one succeeding woe swelled up another and another and another and…
To my horror, the two lieutenants returned.
They forced the rag back into my mouth. A cravat was wrapped around my eyes and head, hindering my eyesight. Then I was conveyed from the foul-smelling hole and into fresher air. They didn’t take me far. Only a few feet beyond the door of my confinement.
Without my sight, I tripped over planks and cables, stumbling in the shackles. My pulse thundered frantically. My breath beat wetly against the gag as fear ruled every step.
I tried to fight, but one of them held me fast by the hands and laid me face down upon a barrel. He secured the restraints on my wrists and ankles to something on the floor, while the other man dumped water onto my back and callously scrubbed me from head to toe.
The scent of vinegar burned my nose. My skin caught fire beneath the harsh solution, my eyes watering as the fumes stole beneath the blindfold.
There was only one reason they would take the time to wash my body.
Blind and shaking, I tracked their footsteps up the ladder behind me. The door to the hatchway creaked open, sounding their departure. Then another pair of footfalls entered the hold.
These were different. New. The tread sounded softer, the steps lighter. My pulse raged, thrashing hollowly in my ears, as the stranger grew closer, breathing heavily. Sucking the air with excitement.
My fear was so sharp and cold I didn’t think my bladder would hold. I didn’t care. Panic was a separate entity inside me, skittish and slippery, jumping at every sound.
Where was he? Behind me? In front of me? Was he holding a dagger? I blinked rapidly, straining to see through the blindfold.
“Let me see, you coward!” My scream garbled, my voice indiscernible behind the gag.
The vulnerability of my bent position, with my bare bottom in the air and my body stretched over the barrel, sent me into a fit of convulsive thrashing. But the shackles did what they were meant to do. I went nowhere, and the violent jerking and bucking soon exhausted my already weak muscles.
Male hands gripped tightly to my hips.
For a moment, I imagined they belonged to Ashley or Priest. One of them had come for me, and the worst of this nightmare was over.
But the fingers were too thin, the skin too soft and cold. I didn’t know these hands or this man. As if to confirm my thoughts, he forced my thighs apart and groaned in an unfamiliar voice.
A sob broke behind my gag, and my legs quivered brutally beneath his heavy weight.
There would be no courage here. No strength or inspiration. I couldn’t fight in shackles. Couldn’t voice my adamant objections. I couldn’t even see the face of my tormentor. But I could smell the stink of onion on his breath.
And I felt him.
Deeply, traumatically, he used his body as a weapon, one violating stab after another.
Parts of me broke away. I tried to cast aside the physical pain, but the agony punctured through, reaching