afraid.
Abruptly she sensed Ram's gaze—she could actually feel it! She took one quick look of confirmation and lowered her eyes quickly, embarrassed by the shocking intimacy of being held like this, on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around her, confused by the inexplicable warmth of his body pressed against her, and so afraid, she could hot for her life stop trembling.
Ram was acutely conscious of her fear, a fear he'd see increased two-fold before he was through with her. He gently brushed loose tendrils of her hair from her face, and because she could no longer manage to meet his gaze, he lifted her face to his. "I still don't know your story. Indeed, I don't even know your Christian name."
She refused to lift her eyes. 'I’ll not tell you," she whispered in the passion of her fury. "Never! You can beat me ten times and you still won't hear it from me!"
This boldness lifting through her fear brought an amused light to his eyes. "Fortunately, I'm not depending on you for the information. Because sweetheart," he whispered against her ear, "your small strength is not impressive even for one of your sex, and I don't think you'd survive one more thrashing, let alone ten."
All waited for Ram, and in a single fluid motion, he stood, lifting her to set her back on the bench alone. "Since you seem bent on playing in a man's world, you might enjoy witnessing a man's game. Sit tight and behave yourself."
Cold fear battled with rage, and as her mind spun with the danger, her wits returned at once.
He didn't know yet, but when he discovered she had helped to free slaves, all was lost: the Reverend, Sammy and herself. Perhaps even Joshua would be implicated in the felony crime of the highest order. Yet she was far less afraid of the fines and jail term than the knowledge that Southern justice was not often dealt in a court of law.
Hanging might only be the merciful end!
In all her years as a conductor, never had her mind conjured the risks in such graphic detail.
Added to this was the frightening attempt to guess what he might personally do to her. This contemplation could not be borne, for whatever it was, it seemed bound to be worse than the worst.
Her whole body screamed one word—Run!—and this was tempered only by the crystal clear understanding of just how far she would get. She cast a quick glance back to where the Reverend slept at the bar, deciding that no help would be coming from that direction. She found two exits, the front and a hallway, surely leading to the back door. Nervous, still trembling with fear, she could barely contain herself as she saw she must to wait for her chance.
Ram stood near the bound man, conferring with two of his men. His attention finally turned to Sean, and for the first time, the large crowd of men joined in the deathly quiet with the rest of the room. Even the bound man, whose voice had been raised with vicious threats and curses, all at once fell silent.
"Allow me to present Captain Willis." Sean began in that dispassionate air of boredom of his, as though, like the great blond Viking God he resembled, these mere mortal surroundings thoroughly taxed him. The impression was completely situational, rising from the knowledge of the bound mail's chains. "We followed the foul stench of his ship—the Blue Crest—from the Caribbean Isles, allowing her some wind to see where she'd go. We caught her less than a hundred miles directly due east from here."
A dark brow lifted; this information interested Ram, and the prisoner received another appraisal.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Captain Willis interrupted to demand of Ram, no longer able to contain his indignation, bewilderment and rage. The bloody green gall of taking my ship—I still cannot believe it happened and in New Orleans to boot!—why, I'll be damned if I don't see every last one of you cutthroats hanged before the day is through! And if you think for a moment you bloody bastards can get away with
Abruptly she sensed Ram's gaze—she could actually feel it! She took one quick look of confirmation and lowered her eyes quickly, embarrassed by the shocking intimacy of being held like this, on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around her, confused by the inexplicable warmth of his body pressed against her, and so afraid, she could hot for her life stop trembling.
Ram was acutely conscious of her fear, a fear he'd see increased two-fold before he was through with her. He gently brushed loose tendrils of her hair from her face, and because she could no longer manage to meet his gaze, he lifted her face to his. "I still don't know your story. Indeed, I don't even know your Christian name."
She refused to lift her eyes. 'I’ll not tell you," she whispered in the passion of her fury. "Never! You can beat me ten times and you still won't hear it from me!"
This boldness lifting through her fear brought an amused light to his eyes. "Fortunately, I'm not depending on you for the information. Because sweetheart," he whispered against her ear, "your small strength is not impressive even for one of your sex, and I don't think you'd survive one more thrashing, let alone ten."
All waited for Ram, and in a single fluid motion, he stood, lifting her to set her back on the bench alone. "Since you seem bent on playing in a man's world, you might enjoy witnessing a man's game. Sit tight and behave yourself."
Cold fear battled with rage, and as her mind spun with the danger, her wits returned at once.
He didn't know yet, but when he discovered she had helped to free slaves, all was lost: the Reverend, Sammy and herself. Perhaps even Joshua would be implicated in the felony crime of the highest order. Yet she was far less afraid of the fines and jail term than the knowledge that Southern justice was not often dealt in a court of law.
Hanging might only be the merciful end!
In all her years as a conductor, never had her mind conjured the risks in such graphic detail.
Added to this was the frightening attempt to guess what he might personally do to her. This contemplation could not be borne, for whatever it was, it seemed bound to be worse than the worst.
Her whole body screamed one word—Run!—and this was tempered only by the crystal clear understanding of just how far she would get. She cast a quick glance back to where the Reverend slept at the bar, deciding that no help would be coming from that direction. She found two exits, the front and a hallway, surely leading to the back door. Nervous, still trembling with fear, she could barely contain herself as she saw she must to wait for her chance.
Ram stood near the bound man, conferring with two of his men. His attention finally turned to Sean, and for the first time, the large crowd of men joined in the deathly quiet with the rest of the room. Even the bound man, whose voice had been raised with vicious threats and curses, all at once fell silent.
"Allow me to present Captain Willis." Sean began in that dispassionate air of boredom of his, as though, like the great blond Viking God he resembled, these mere mortal surroundings thoroughly taxed him. The impression was completely situational, rising from the knowledge of the bound mail's chains. "We followed the foul stench of his ship—the Blue Crest—from the Caribbean Isles, allowing her some wind to see where she'd go. We caught her less than a hundred miles directly due east from here."
A dark brow lifted; this information interested Ram, and the prisoner received another appraisal.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Captain Willis interrupted to demand of Ram, no longer able to contain his indignation, bewilderment and rage. The bloody green gall of taking my ship—I still cannot believe it happened and in New Orleans to boot!—why, I'll be damned if I don't see every last one of you cutthroats hanged before the day is through! And if you think for a moment you bloody bastards can get away with
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