Beyond paradise by Copyright Paperback Collection (Library of Congress) DLC, Elizabeth Doyle Page B
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a finger over her lips. "Don't be stubborn." He hurriedly tossed a thin blanket over his hammock and said "Get under."
Sylvie didn't like being ordered. "I'm fully clothed. I can't sleep like this," she told him. "Am I to hide under the blanket forever?"
In his haste, he growled, "You'll stay under there for as long as I tell you to." She opened her mouth, but he interrupted. "This is not a game. The only thing that's saving you from being bedded by every man in this room is their belief that you belong to me. Don't take it lightly. If you fight me once they get here, I'm going to have to show them I'm in control. If you refuse to stay in the hammock, I'm going to have to wrestle you back in. I don't want to hurt you, Sylvie. Please, just do as I say."
"But my clothes ..." She tugged at her girdle.
"It's safer if you sleep in them."
"You. . . you weren't jesting about our sharing a hammock?"
"Of course not. Now hurry, get in there."
"Whoa! There she is!" A group of drunken pirates had just made their way to the cabin, and were speaking English, a language Sylvie could not understand. "We heard about the little fairy you found in jail. Let's have a look at her."
"No," said Jacques in English, with a friendly but firm smile, "you don't need to look."
"Pretty hair," he said, peering. Sylvie had pulled the blanket to her chin, and turned away from the door. But he could see her thick, cinnamon hair sparkling with hints of red. "Has she got a pretty face?"
"It doesn't matter," said Sebastien, stepping forth with heavily crossed arms, "she doesn't belong to you." A lot of pirates were now paying grim attention to the situation. Those
Elizabeth Doyle
whose hammocks were on the far side of the room got to casually glimpse Sylvie's lovely, delicate face and small, pointed nose. Her eyes were closed, though, so they couldn't see their brilliance.
"Can't you share just a little?" asked the English-speaking pirate. "We'll give her right back." There was an evil spark in his eye.
Jacques met it with his own hateful look, only his held some cockiness and good humor. "Lending a woman isn't like lending jewels," he said. "It's more like lending an arm. Once you cut it off, it's most likely gone for good."
The man stared at him for some time in puzzlement. He was drunk, but his meanness came from something deeper. At last, he comprehended the joke and let out a loud shriek of laughter. Some of his English-speaking friends followed suit, though none of them knew why they were laughing. "Very well," he relented, tearing his shirt from his chest. "She's yours, she's yours. I'll get one of my own." Somehow, that seemed to settle it for the group, and they all went about the business of undressing, taking only a few curious peeks at the young woman lying quietly in the bunk among all of their manmade darkness.
Jacques gave her a reassuring squeeze through the blanket and whispered, "Don't look. They're undressing. I promise I'll keep my breeches on, but some of them won't." If he'd hoped that would keep her from looking, he did not know Sylvie well. Her eyes flung wide open and she immediately looked about. "Did you hear me?" he asked.
"Oh ... oh, yes," she said. "I should keep my eyes closed." She pretended to do so, but left the corner of one lid fully alert. Would they take all of their clothes off? She tried to find a handsome one to study. If once she had been desperate to see a real pirate, now she was equally determined to see a man in the raw. She caught a glimpse of a well-muscled
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young sailor with long, chestnut hair. She saw him toss away his shirt and then waited anxiously to see the rest. He cast a nervous glance her way, as surely, none of the men had forgotten there was a lady about. The moment he looked, she squeezed her eyes shut, but then she opened them again. This time, certain she was not aware, he lowered his breeches. The minute Sylvie caught a glimpse, she lost her courage and
Sylvie didn't like being ordered. "I'm fully clothed. I can't sleep like this," she told him. "Am I to hide under the blanket forever?"
In his haste, he growled, "You'll stay under there for as long as I tell you to." She opened her mouth, but he interrupted. "This is not a game. The only thing that's saving you from being bedded by every man in this room is their belief that you belong to me. Don't take it lightly. If you fight me once they get here, I'm going to have to show them I'm in control. If you refuse to stay in the hammock, I'm going to have to wrestle you back in. I don't want to hurt you, Sylvie. Please, just do as I say."
"But my clothes ..." She tugged at her girdle.
"It's safer if you sleep in them."
"You. . . you weren't jesting about our sharing a hammock?"
"Of course not. Now hurry, get in there."
"Whoa! There she is!" A group of drunken pirates had just made their way to the cabin, and were speaking English, a language Sylvie could not understand. "We heard about the little fairy you found in jail. Let's have a look at her."
"No," said Jacques in English, with a friendly but firm smile, "you don't need to look."
"Pretty hair," he said, peering. Sylvie had pulled the blanket to her chin, and turned away from the door. But he could see her thick, cinnamon hair sparkling with hints of red. "Has she got a pretty face?"
"It doesn't matter," said Sebastien, stepping forth with heavily crossed arms, "she doesn't belong to you." A lot of pirates were now paying grim attention to the situation. Those
Elizabeth Doyle
whose hammocks were on the far side of the room got to casually glimpse Sylvie's lovely, delicate face and small, pointed nose. Her eyes were closed, though, so they couldn't see their brilliance.
"Can't you share just a little?" asked the English-speaking pirate. "We'll give her right back." There was an evil spark in his eye.
Jacques met it with his own hateful look, only his held some cockiness and good humor. "Lending a woman isn't like lending jewels," he said. "It's more like lending an arm. Once you cut it off, it's most likely gone for good."
The man stared at him for some time in puzzlement. He was drunk, but his meanness came from something deeper. At last, he comprehended the joke and let out a loud shriek of laughter. Some of his English-speaking friends followed suit, though none of them knew why they were laughing. "Very well," he relented, tearing his shirt from his chest. "She's yours, she's yours. I'll get one of my own." Somehow, that seemed to settle it for the group, and they all went about the business of undressing, taking only a few curious peeks at the young woman lying quietly in the bunk among all of their manmade darkness.
Jacques gave her a reassuring squeeze through the blanket and whispered, "Don't look. They're undressing. I promise I'll keep my breeches on, but some of them won't." If he'd hoped that would keep her from looking, he did not know Sylvie well. Her eyes flung wide open and she immediately looked about. "Did you hear me?" he asked.
"Oh ... oh, yes," she said. "I should keep my eyes closed." She pretended to do so, but left the corner of one lid fully alert. Would they take all of their clothes off? She tried to find a handsome one to study. If once she had been desperate to see a real pirate, now she was equally determined to see a man in the raw. She caught a glimpse of a well-muscled
n
BEYOND PARADISE
99
young sailor with long, chestnut hair. She saw him toss away his shirt and then waited anxiously to see the rest. He cast a nervous glance her way, as surely, none of the men had forgotten there was a lady about. The moment he looked, she squeezed her eyes shut, but then she opened them again. This time, certain she was not aware, he lowered his breeches. The minute Sylvie caught a glimpse, she lost her courage and
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