Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(178)
“Dammit, man!” Ruark growled. “What brings you here?”
“I’ve come unarmed and only meant to talk.”
Harripen stood carefully motionless until Ruark lowered the pistol and placed it, still cocked, on the bedside table.
“Unarmed?” Ruark snorted and pointed with his blade to the top of Harripen’s boot where the hilt of a small dirk showed. The Englishman shrugged as he lowered his arms.
“Were I that honest, me bucko, I would not be a pirate.”
The man’s eyes went to Shanna and stayed a bit longer and burned a bit brighter than Ruark cared for. At the open lust she saw in those gray eyes, Shanna shivered and clutched the sheet tighter to her.
“Didn’t know ye were engaged, laddie,” Harripen leered. “ ‘Tis sorry I am that I disturbed ye.”
“Get the blasted hell out of here!” Ruark snapped. “I’ll be down in good time.”
The Englishman gestured with his hands. “Now simmer down, laddie. I meant ye no ill. I thought ye’d be eating now, ‘tis all.”
With a shrug that seemed to excuse his intrusion, he strode across the room to the platter of food and hefting half a fowl with grimy hands, began to consume it as he talked.
“ ‘Tis only that I wanted to have out a matter of importance wit’ ye, lad.”
“There is nothing I can think of that we need discuss,” Ruark replied tersely.
Harripen chortled and came around to Shanna’s side of the bed. His small, watery gray eyes never left her. He ignored Ruark’s deepening scowl and flopped down upon the bed, giving Shanna a greasy smile as he tore a chunk of bird and stuffed it into his mouth with his fingers. Shanna backed away from him in disgust, jerking the tail of the sheet from beneath his sandy boots. She came quickly into the welcome shelter of Ruark’s arms. Ruark half sat, half knelt, with one knee on the edge of the bed directly across from Harripen. The sabre blade completed the circle about her, the sharp edge presented outward toward the other captain. Beneath the Englishman’s leer, Shanna’s skin crawled, and she clutched the sheet higher as she pressed back against Ruark’s chest. He was as rigid as a rock, and beneath her head she could feel the tick of a muscle in his shoulder.
Harripen pointed with the hen and picked a piece of its meat from his bristly chin. “Aye, but she’s a lusty one. A mite ‘ot and eager for ye, too, ’twould appear, the way she snapped Carmelita off yer lap. What will ye take for her? She’s hardly worth the trouble she’s caused ye, lad.” The aging buccaneer leaned forward eagerly, and his red-rimmed eyes gleamed, belying his bickering. Tilting his head, he grinned with one eye half closed in an unfinished wink. “Bend your ear, bucko. I’ll give ye another pouch for a thrice of nights with her.”
“It may be your time will come,” Ruark replied slowly, “but for now, at least, she’s mine.”
“Aye, ye made ‘at clear already, ye ’ave,” the older man sighed. “Still—”
Harripen could not resist reaching out a greasy hand to caress the shining rich tumble of locks Shanna displayed, but he halted suddenly as he realized if he moved his hand but one small degree further he would have less than a whole finger left, for the razor edge of the blue blade abruptly barred his way. His eyes shifted to Ruark’s and widened slightly. He was met with a smile that was at once calm yet filled with such a strange, deadly patience that the skin on the back of Harripen’s neck crawled. He was immediately sure that he could feel the cold breath of death upon his nape.
Harripen jerked his hand back as if he had touched fire and rose quickly from the bed, putting a goodly space between himself and the other.
“Hell and damnation, you’re touchy!” he growled. “But I came not to speak of her.”
He tossed the half-eaten bird at the table and missed by a wide margin. He caught Ruark’s reflection in the mirror, and those amber eyes marked him like those of a wary hawk. Facing about, Harripen clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels for a moment before he began almost delicately:
“Me own ship is a bit smaller than Robby’s, but I’ve had me eye on the Good Hound for a long time. I do not wish to test the edge of your sword for her, but perhaps a bit of a bargain. Ye’re new here and know little of our ways. I could make us all a good fortune with a ship like the Good Hound and would not waste her sail or worthy men puttering about with the likes of Trahern. I have in mind that my share of the gold and my own ship would be a fair trade for the one you have.”
He paused, seeming to run out of words.