Seaswept Abandon by Jo Goodman

Author:Jo Goodman [Goodman, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2017-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Rae stumbled as she was forced on deck. The sunlight blinded her, but she could not shield her eyes, and strands of her loose hair were whipped carelessly about her face in the salty breeze. She licked her dry lips and fought down a scream as Wendell grabbed her roughly from behind.

She struggled uselessly in his iron grasp, looking about wildly for Jericho. In the moment before Wendell jerked her head around she thought she spied Jericho's bright yellow hair high above her. The thought of him on the stick rigging made her feel sick to her stomach. She had always tried not to imagine what sort of work he did for Sam Judge. "Take your hands off me," she said through clenched teeth. "Or I swear I'll do more than scratch your face."

For the first time since she had come topside, the crew looked away from her and took note of Wendell's bloody jaw and neck. Four neat parallel scratches marked his ruddy complexion and disappeared into his neck cloth.

Sam Judge motioned to two men. "Miller. Davis. Take her. Hank, take Wendell and put him at the mast. Get the cat."

Judge was quickly obeyed. Rae was pulled away from Wendell, and each of her arms was locked securely in the hold of Miller and Davis. Startled by Judge's command, she watched in confusion as Wendell was bound to the mast, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Jericho descending like lightning toward her.

Jericho nearly flew down the rigging and then leaped to the deck, landing tightly on his feet and startling the men around him. He broke through the gathering and strode over to where Rae was being held.

God, it had been too long. It took all his willpower to keep from taking her in his arms. "Have you been harmed?" he asked tersely, his eyes hungrily running over Rae's unnaturally pale face. Her dark eyes seemed too large, almost bruised with violet shadows beneath her lower lashes. Her hair was darker than he remembered, without the flash of fire in it, and it blew about the slender stem of her neck and across her eyes. He wanted to touch the tips of his fingers to her cheek and ask where her freckles had gone. Even winter's cold sunlight was better than none at all, and he knew that of the two of them, he was the more fortunate.

Rae found herself leaning forward, a posture that clearly spoke of her desire to be held in familiar arms. She was pulled back abruptly. "No," she said, tossing back her head so that her hair fell away from her eyes. "I haven't been harmed. Wendell tried to—to—"

Judge interrupted her. "Wendell thought your wife was hungry for somethin' besides her mornin' meal," he said bluntly. "'Course, he tells the story a bit differently. I heard her screaming like a banshee and interrupted them. Wendell will be punished for it."

"Then why are my wife's wrists bound?"

"Because she was going to scratch his eyes out.

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