“Abused!”
Shanna was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it, the sheer ludicrous fallacy of the word. Hysterical laughter spilled from her, and if anyone had heard her, they might have doubted her sanity.
Ruark was sprawled carelessly across his bed, staring at the canopy above him when hoofbeats sounded on the path outside the cottage. He was halfway to the door when a light rap came against the wood. His mind roared with relief. ‘Twas Shanna, of course. But on flinging open the portal Ruark saw only Pitney’s broad, angry face. Then the night exploded in a billion twinkling lights before darkness descended with the thud of his body against the carpet.
The surging pain in Ruark’s head made him aware of the slow rolling motion of the floor beneath him. It seemed to rock him in a cradle, and through his muddled senses he heard only an odd creaking. His world expanded, and he realized he was gagged and bound tightly with a musty sack pulled down over his head and shoulders. The rough flooring beneath him became a small boat. He recognized the squeaking of oarlocks and the slow lap of water against the wooden sides. There was only this and heavy breathing from close-by, and he realized he was being rowed out to sea, for what mischief yet he could not perceive, but he had a fair guess it stemmed from Shanna. He jeered bitterly in the dark void of his confinement. She could not even hear him out before she passed judgment.
“I guess ye’ve done it this time,” Pitney’s voice rasped, and Ruark became aware that the man was muttering to himself. He lay still, feigning unconsciousness, and listened at the rumbling words that threaded through his aching brain. “I cannot drop ye to the fish, and mayhap this here will be worse for ye, but she said to get ye gone, one way or the other, and I’d better do it ere she find some other way to be rid of ye.” A long pause of silence mingled with the creaking of oars, then a heaving sigh. “If ye’d only had the good sense, lad, to leave the filly be. I warned ye once, but I guess ye forgot. I’ve been too long seeing the lass safe to let her be taken against her will, even by you.”
Ruark cursed in his mind and tried to loosen the ropes about his wrists, but they were tied hard and fast. There was only futility in struggling anyway. He could not imagine Pitney taking away his gag to listen to him, not when Shanna had convinced the man of her plight.
The rowing slowed, and a voice hailed the boat. Pitney called back, and several moments later Ruark was thrown over the huge man’s shoulder and carted onto the deck of the ship where he was unceremoniously dumped. Ruark held back a groan and remained motionless, though it seemed his whole body throbbed with the pain in his head. He could not catch the words in the exchange of voices, but he heard the clink of coins as a fair sum was counted out. A heavy thud of feet crossed the deck, and Ruark knew Pitney was making his departure. Not long afterwards, the sack was jerked off Ruark’s head, and the gag snatched from his mouth. To his displeasure a bucket of sea water was tossed upon him, and he was roughly hauled to his feet as he sputtered beneath this assault. Still bound, he was tied to a mast. A lantern was thrust near, and an ugly face leered in its light.
“Well, laddie, so ye’re comin‘ round,” a hoarse voice snarled. “Ye’ll do nicely here ’til we can tend to ye.”
The lantern went away. Amid soft commands the sails were unfurled, the anchor raised. Soon a freshening dawn breeze was licking at Ruark’s face, and the schooner was skipping along over the waves. Ruark bent his neck around and watched as the lights of Los Camellos faded from view. At last Shanna had seen him off her island.
Sighing, Ruark resigned himself and leaned his head back against the mast. Somehow he would find a way to return and renew his claims. This changed nothing. She was still his wife. But first he must make the best of his situation and survive.
Ruark spent his first night aboard ship lashed to the pinrail at the base of the main mast. The schooner had little more than left sight of the island when the anchor was dropped again, and, with sails flapping loose, the ship swung about and rested on her chains. With the exception of the watch on the quarterdeck, the vessel remained devoid of life. It was not until the sun was a good two hours up that a crewman wandered close enough to be halted by Ruark’s request. The man shrugged his shoulders and made his way aft where a few moments later a heavyset Englishman ventured forth and, after leaning against the rail for a space, noticed Ruark and came to stand before him.
“ ‘Twould seem to me, sir,” Ruark opened the conversation, “that there is little reason for me to be so bound and secured, as I have done you no harm and most certainly intend none. Is it not possible that I could be released to see to my needs?”