Irresistible by Karen Robards Page A

tightly in her protective ball and trying not to move any part of her person except her eyes, she peeped out through her carefully preserved screen of hair and lashes to discover that the sailors who had carried her into the cabin now stood shoulder to shoulder above her, their gazes fastened on her bare legs. There was something in their expressions that made her think sickeningly of hungry dogs and meat pasties. Their fervidness made her flesh creep.
    The use to which they would put her was clear. Carnal intent was writ plain on their faces. Again she thought, I can't bear it.
    A fresh surge of adrenaline caused her heart to pump faster, warmed her cold extremities, and stiffened her will. She would fight to the last drop of her strength and beyond, before she would submit to rape.
    "You may leave us."
    Hugh's voice was as hard as his eyes, which, she saw as she glanced at him again, were no longer fixed on her but on the two men. He was dismissing them— thank God, thank God. At his words, the sailors looked up, and for a second the atmosphere was charged. Hugh stared them down, his stance relaxed but ready, his gaze stony. That he was holding a businesslike-looking pistol seemed to clinch matters. There was a slight but discernible change in their demeanor: They no longer seemed quite so threatening. Claire breathed a little— just a little— easier.
    "Aye, sir," the taller of the two answered with resignation.
    "Ye need any 'elp with 'er, Yer 'Onor, ye jest be lettin' us know." His companion was more optimistic.
    "Aye, we'll be right pleased to assist with anythin' ye need," the first sailor agreed with renewed cheerfulness, flashing a wolfish grin. "Especially where yon toothsome lass is concerned."
    "I'll keep it in mind." Hugh's voice was dry.
    "Get along, now. Get! Go on!" James, a motley collection of what appeared to be men's clothing clutched in one fist, turned from the cupboard to drive the sailors from the cabin with a series of shooing motions, then shut the door behind them and threw the bolt. He then turned back to Hugh, who seemed to slump a little with the sailors' exit. James watched eagle-eyed as Hugh grimaced and exhaled with a soft hiss.
    "Aye, ye've done yerself an injury with yer foolishness, just like I knew ye would." James's tone was grim as he crossed to the other man's side. To Claire's surprise, Hugh, who was doing something with the pistol, seemed to take no umbrage at being spoken to like an errant child.
    "Have done with your scolding, James." Placing the pistol on a small, semicircular table built into the wall opposite the bunk, Hugh took a deep, slow breath. "I'm in no mood to listen to it, I warn you."
    But he sank down onto a slat-backed chair James pulled out for him without protest. Wincing, he pressed one hand flat against the left side of his rib cage, rubbed in a rather gingerly fashion and leaned carefully back, stretching his legs out before him. His bare feet, Claire noted in passing, were long, narrow, and unmistakably masculine, like his hands. She was as tense as a coiled spring now, ready to seize any chance to save herself. But all she could do for the moment was lie still as a mouse, and watch, and listen.
    "I'll reckon ye're not. Going into the water for such a cause, and you in such a state. Master Hugh, I'll tell ye to yer head that a lad of ten would have had more sense."
    "Would you have had me let the wench drown?" The words were spoken through clenched teeth. No doubt about it, Claire thought: The man was in pain.
    "I would've had you let one of the sailors go in after her, as any man of sense would have done."
    "Very likely, but I didn't think of it at the time."
    Claire was alarmed to find Hugh's gaze shifting to her as James dropped the clothes on the table, which, given the close quarters of the cabin, was right at Hugh's elbow. James then stepped in front of Hugh, reaching for the fastenings on his shirt and effectively distracting his attention.
    Hugh