Fear pricked her consciousness that Ruark would be willing to see her demeaned and abused at every hand, and the surety of such was beginning to loom monstrously large in her future. Her already depleted strength would little deter Pellier’s assault when he chose to launch it. But it was best not to dwell on the degradations that would precede the final one, and Shanna fought the despair that threatened to reduce her to a whimpering, sobbing wretch.
As his entire fortune was on his person, there was little to occupy Ruark. He was glad he had not doffed the breeches before Pitney’s visit or he might well have been more exposed to the air. Though the pirate captains had promised him a share of the loot for his assistance, he was not bent to believe that Pellier had accepted his interference with Shanna kindly. Considering the half-breed’s possessive attention, she would need much in the way of protection. Still, Ruark thought, if he appeared anxious to defend her, it would arouse suspicions against him. He must gain some degree of trust, or at least some sort of respect, from the picaroons, or escape would be doubly difficult. On the other hand, he could not abide anyone mauling his wife, and he knew if they pricked Shanna’s defense, she could well flay anyone’s pride with her tongue and might bring odious penalties upon herself.
“It may well be that I shall have to fight the whole lot of them,” he mused wryly. “And for that selfsame wench who will not accept my protection, thinking I took my ease with another. But I am set in any event to choose the course that will take us both clear of this hellish place, whether she will have aught of me or not.”
For a space Ruark stared down into the sparkling blue-green sea and thought how much it resembled those eyes that had led him to this corner of the universe and still beckoned with the promise of a reward beyond his ken.
The schooner slid against the dock, and when the ropes were secured to the quay, Harripen strode across the deck, clapping his hands as he loudly called, “A wager for the first wench tossed on ‘er back, me ’earties. Which do ye say? A sovereign on Carmelita.”
A sharp grunt came from the stern. “Have ye no eyes in yer bloomin‘ head, mate? The Trahern wench I’ll put me wager on. ’Twould take me not but a thrice count to roll her on her arse and give ‘er me all.”
“Aye,” a derisive snort answered. “And should ye beat Robby for a turn on her, ye’ll find his sticker in yer back.”
Shanna remained motionless, giving no outward sign that she was affected by their crudity, but inwardly she quailed, and her mind recoiled. Her night had been unpleasant enough, but she realized it was only her potential value as a hostage that had kept her from an even more unpleasant one in the captain’s cabin or the crew’s quarters, if not both. For that small respite, at least, she had Ruark to thank.
Ruark gave little attention to the banter. He accepted the men’s talk as just that, at least for the time being. As long as Pellier was alive, Ruark was well aware from where the real threat came. Warily he watched the Frenchman approach Shanna and began to saunter forward as the man placed a long leather thong about the slim column of her throat. Then suddenly, without warning, Ruark found his own way blocked by the broad, hairy chest of Pellier’s apelike mate and three of the hands he had seen warping the ship in. Ruark elbowed one aside to force his way, but with a wide grin drawn back from uneven, gapping teeth, the mate moved again to stand before him, and over his brawny shoulder Ruark caught Pellier’s evil smile directed briefly toward him.
“Well, man,” the huge mate leered. “If ya’re to be one of us, let’s see how ya fare at tidying up a ship.”
The gangplank touched the dock, and the corsair captain began to move toward the open way. In that moment a cold, chilling fear washed through Shanna, and her eyes turned a last desperate plea toward her only hope, Ruark. She saw him standing with several crewmen, and he made no move to come to her. His frown deepened even as she looked, but he seemed willing to surrender her to this pig of a pirate.
“So much for his high ideals and wedding vows,” Shanna thought bitterly.
His lack of action stung her to the quick. Their eyes met, and, threatened with a rush of moisture in her own, Shanna lifted her chin with a defiant gesture of dismissal. Then the leash tightened about her neck, and she was jerked stumbling along in Pellier’s wake.
Shanna was paraded behind the pirate captains as part of the booty which was carted after her, the only exception being the large chest; it was left where it sat on the deck of the schooner. Her wrists were bound before her, and her long hair tumbled in wild disarray about her shoulders, half masking her face from the curious eyes of the waiting townspeople. The sting of ire she felt at being so crudely displayed was sharp, though it gave her cause to remember Ruark being hauled aboard the Marguerite in chains.