Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(169)
Dora’s heart thumped wildly as Ruark rose and stepped close, but to her amazement he only inquired of her welfare and returned the kettle to her trembling hands. Assuring him that she was not injured, she flew to refill the copper kettle and hung it again on a hook above the fire. While she sliced meat, her large eyes moved to where he sat smoking his pipe, and she frowned in confusion. The other pirates would have descended upon her in rage at her clumsiness. They were always eager to rebuke her with a hamlike fist or booted foot on her buttocks. Ever since they had taken her captive some nine years before, at the age of twelve, she had suffered much humiliation and abuse from them all, not the least from Carmelita and that evil one, Pellier.
Only Gaitlier and some of the village folk had been kind to her, but her days were passed in servitude to these beasts and marred by the hardships the pirates heaped upon her. They had killed her parents and raped her before she was even a woman. They delighted in everything perverse and cruel, and long ago she had made it her purpose in life to escape this brigade of thieves. She could envy the young woman taken captive from Los Camellos while, at the same time, pitying her for having to submit to this man’s lust. At least Trahern was rich and could ransom his daughter from this hell. There was no one in the world who knew or cared that she, Dora Livingston, was alive, let alone slave to madmen.
Ruark shifted his gaze to her, and she wilted into shy retreat as he indicated her blouse, pointing at it with his pipe. Numbly she half expected him to order her to disrobe.
“Is there a place where I might find a waistshirt like that for the Trahern wench?”
Dora’s fear became suspicion, but she nodded and answered haltingly. “There’s an old woman who makes ‘em for ’er keep.”
Ruark fished into the purse hanging from his belt. “Fetch me several for the maid and some of whatever is worn beneath. And a pair of sandals, if you will.” He glanced down at Dora’s own and indicated with his pipe. “Not too big. About your size or less. You can have what coin is left.”
He flipped her several, and she caught the pieces between her palms then looked at them, somewhat puzzled. She did not know how to respond to kindness, for any small show of it from her captors had only been followed by some further depravity. She eyed him now in bewildered apprehension.
“But, sir, ‘ere are rich gowns in Pellier’s chests. In the room they are, sir.”
A sneer crept into Ruark’s voice as he replied. “My tastes differ from Pellier’s brothel garb, and I must keep the Trahern brat alive for her father. ‘Twould only brew trouble to parade her around half naked.”
Dora hung her head shamefacedly. “Whenever some of the women would go with him up there, Captain Pellier would make ‘em wear those. He fetched the old hag what sells fruit in the village to put on the best of them and strut about for him while he laughed at her.” Dora’s face flushed crimson, and her eyes fell to her twisting hands. “And even meself.”
The shame she felt was apparent, and Ruark would have said some consoling word, but his role of pirate did not permit displays of kindness.
“I’ll wait while you run to fetch the things for the wench. But hurry. She may grow restless if I’m gone too long.”
When Ruark returned to the chamber above with the clothes Dora brought, he secured the door behind him. Then he set the food tray down on the table next to the bed with a deliberate clatter, startling Shanna from sleep. She sat up in alarm, snatching the sheet high under her chin.
“Easy, love. ‘Tis only your master bringing the morning fare to his beautiful slave,” he mocked lightly and flashed her a devilish grin as his warm gaze caressed her.
“Oh, Ruark!” Shanna’s voice cracked with fear, and she rubbed a hand across her brow as if to clear her mind. She regained her composure and remembered the state of her relationship with him as she ran her fingers through her tangled mane of hair. “I dreamt you had left me here with them and fled to the colonies to be free.” The sheet was draped carefully over her bosom and held under her arms, but she was oblivious to the fact that she salved Ruark’s gaze with the reflection of her naked back in several of the mirrors. “Do dreams come true, bondsman?” Her bright sea-hued eyes caught his and held them.
Ruark shrugged. “Sometimes, Shanna, but mostly because you want them to and work at it.” He prepared her a plate of food and placed it before her, sitting beside her on the bed. Reaching out a hand, he smoothed her sleep-tossed curls, grinning in that one-sided, roguish way. “You know I’ll never leave you, Shanna. Never!”