slogged up on dry land only by the grace of Daltry’s help. They both collapsed on the beach. She rolled toward him and shivered.
He took a moment to catch his breath then wrapped his arms around her. “I’m afraid we can’t tarry, little pirate. It won’t take Saint-Sauveur long to figure out you’re not on board. He’ll launch boats soon.”
Luísa groaned. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why did he attack the Coral , yet take only me? Surely the ship was worth more.”
Daltry studied her for a moment. “Did he say nothing to you?”
Luísa froze not wanting to recall her humiliation at Saint-Sauveur’s hands. “He—he—” Her voice grew stronger and more defiant. “He behaved like a typical Frenchman.”
He grinned and unlashed the bonds from both their wrists. “Is that so? The French aren’t keen on leaving a woman’s virtue intact.”
Face flaming, she pushed Daltry off her. “English pig! You’re no better than the French.”
“Careful not to judge all of us by your Portuguese standards, kitten, or one could judge you by equal measure.” He toyed with the frill of her collar, while the rest of her shirt lay pasted to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination.
He sat up and pulled her with him. “Time to go, little pirate. You’ve rested long enough.”
They tramped through the jungle, guided only by a waxing gibbous moon. Luísa stumbled more and more until she tripped on some gnarled roots.
“I can’t go any further. We have to stop.”
Daltry helped her to her feet. “All right, luv. We’ll take a breather. I doubt Saint-Sauveur will send his crew into the jungle until daylight. There are devils here that hunt in the night and their favorite prey walks on two legs.” He pulled off his shirt and wrung it out, then threw it at her. “I’ll start a fire. You get your clothes off.”
Luísa jumped up. “I will not!”
He lunged at her in an instant. “Be quiet, you fool. Keep your voice down.”
He startled her into silence. Wary of every snap and flutter, his eyes never stopped scanning the perimeter. There was danger here, the kind of peril that could be felt in the bones.
Daltry gathered dry brush and worked a wood bow into the center of papery kindling. It seemed to take forever to take life, but a small ember finally emerged. He guarded it until it grew stronger, cradling it like a babe in a storm. Carefully, he fed it into a sheltered cove and lit the rest of the brushwood.
The fire grew, lulling Luísa into a warm quiet. She was tired, hungry and more frightened than she cared to admit. At least her father wasn’t here to witness her helplessness. He had raised her better than this. What a disappointment she had proved.
Daltry stood up and stripped to his skivvies. His boots and shirt were already off and drying near the fire. He grinned at her. “Your turn.”
“I am not taking my clothes off.”
“Then I hope the damp takes you, you stubborn goose.”
Luísa folded her arms in front of her chest. “What do you take me for, Inglés ? I’ll not give you fodder for gossip.”
“My lady, despite my English blood, I can promise you I won’t tell a soul I saw you naked.” He leaned toward her. “Come now, Luísa. Take off those clothes before you chill yourself to an early death.”
“I’ll take my chances with the damp.”
“Aye, but I’m not willing to take that chance. I’ll not have you slow us down with your papist principles. Take your clothes off or I’ll rip them off.”
English pig! She didn’t doubt he’d make good on his threat. It pained her that he spoke true. Neither of them could afford to fail the other now.
“Turn around,” she commanded.
He arched a brow, his mouth twitching with annoyance. “Luísa—”
“I mean it. Turn around.”
Daltry stood up and turned around. His white drawers were still damp and they molded around his buttocks in a lingering caress. She tried to look away, but her eyes
He took a moment to catch his breath then wrapped his arms around her. “I’m afraid we can’t tarry, little pirate. It won’t take Saint-Sauveur long to figure out you’re not on board. He’ll launch boats soon.”
Luísa groaned. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why did he attack the Coral , yet take only me? Surely the ship was worth more.”
Daltry studied her for a moment. “Did he say nothing to you?”
Luísa froze not wanting to recall her humiliation at Saint-Sauveur’s hands. “He—he—” Her voice grew stronger and more defiant. “He behaved like a typical Frenchman.”
He grinned and unlashed the bonds from both their wrists. “Is that so? The French aren’t keen on leaving a woman’s virtue intact.”
Face flaming, she pushed Daltry off her. “English pig! You’re no better than the French.”
“Careful not to judge all of us by your Portuguese standards, kitten, or one could judge you by equal measure.” He toyed with the frill of her collar, while the rest of her shirt lay pasted to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination.
He sat up and pulled her with him. “Time to go, little pirate. You’ve rested long enough.”
They tramped through the jungle, guided only by a waxing gibbous moon. Luísa stumbled more and more until she tripped on some gnarled roots.
“I can’t go any further. We have to stop.”
Daltry helped her to her feet. “All right, luv. We’ll take a breather. I doubt Saint-Sauveur will send his crew into the jungle until daylight. There are devils here that hunt in the night and their favorite prey walks on two legs.” He pulled off his shirt and wrung it out, then threw it at her. “I’ll start a fire. You get your clothes off.”
Luísa jumped up. “I will not!”
He lunged at her in an instant. “Be quiet, you fool. Keep your voice down.”
He startled her into silence. Wary of every snap and flutter, his eyes never stopped scanning the perimeter. There was danger here, the kind of peril that could be felt in the bones.
Daltry gathered dry brush and worked a wood bow into the center of papery kindling. It seemed to take forever to take life, but a small ember finally emerged. He guarded it until it grew stronger, cradling it like a babe in a storm. Carefully, he fed it into a sheltered cove and lit the rest of the brushwood.
The fire grew, lulling Luísa into a warm quiet. She was tired, hungry and more frightened than she cared to admit. At least her father wasn’t here to witness her helplessness. He had raised her better than this. What a disappointment she had proved.
Daltry stood up and stripped to his skivvies. His boots and shirt were already off and drying near the fire. He grinned at her. “Your turn.”
“I am not taking my clothes off.”
“Then I hope the damp takes you, you stubborn goose.”
Luísa folded her arms in front of her chest. “What do you take me for, Inglés ? I’ll not give you fodder for gossip.”
“My lady, despite my English blood, I can promise you I won’t tell a soul I saw you naked.” He leaned toward her. “Come now, Luísa. Take off those clothes before you chill yourself to an early death.”
“I’ll take my chances with the damp.”
“Aye, but I’m not willing to take that chance. I’ll not have you slow us down with your papist principles. Take your clothes off or I’ll rip them off.”
English pig! She didn’t doubt he’d make good on his threat. It pained her that he spoke true. Neither of them could afford to fail the other now.
“Turn around,” she commanded.
He arched a brow, his mouth twitching with annoyance. “Luísa—”
“I mean it. Turn around.”
Daltry stood up and turned around. His white drawers were still damp and they molded around his buttocks in a lingering caress. She tried to look away, but her eyes
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