Page 10 of Ruthless, But for Her

So much for the comfort of Boethius. She had not been captured by common reivers after all.

“Black sails,” she said aloud, only realizing it when he spoke.

“You've heard the tales.”

It wasn't a question, but she answered him anyway.

“Who has not heard of the black sails of the border? The Einar and its bloodthirsty captain.” She paused. “Though I confess, I have heard it is the captain's men who do the bloodiest work.”

“I would think anyone outside the border would not be familiar with this ship.”

She made a sound of disgust. “You, sir, have evidently not been spending any time in dining halls. Or solar rooms. Or anywhere women are left to talk while men convince themselves nothing of consequence is being said.”

“You are correct. I've been too busy relieving English merchants of cargo they had no business carrying to attend court feasts and such.”

Cassia folded her arms in front of her.

“I've attended only one court feast in my life, I will have you know.”

“One more than me. Come.”

He walked away from her. His back was broad, his movements unhurried, with the particular ease of a man who had never once needed to look over his shoulder to know whether he was being followed. Around them, the crew continued their work without pause, securing lines, stowing gear, moving with the low murmur of men who needed few words to understand one another.

Her captor turned.

He tapped his shoulder, the very one she'd been slung across. Cassia, exasperated, attempted to decide if she should willingly go with him or be once again tossed unceremoniously over that same shoulder. As if there were anywhere else for her to go.

She was properly and thoroughly kidnapped. By one of The Einar's men.

As the irony of it hit her, Cassia began to laugh. And before she knew it, she couldn’t stop. She thought of the day her father had first informed her she would be married to Roland. Of the day Roland had informed her she was too beautiful not to be “used properly” and anyway, he needed an heir. She thought of the times he’d come into her bedroom, and how often she had nearly lost the contents of her stomach, as she had done back on the merchant ship.

Cassia had been convinced nothing could ever happen to her that would be worse than being betrayed and married to a man like Roland.

And yet here she was, standing on the deck of one of the most infamous ships in the North Sea, possibly anywhere in the world.

Vaguely, she felt herself being guided from the deck. But Cassia was laughing so hard, she didn't care where they were going.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

It was only when they sat and her captor closed the door behind them that she realized the new danger in front of her.

She looked at him, then scooted back on the bed on which she'd been placed, and stopped laughing. There was nothing funny about being raped.

She couldn't breathe. Desperately, she tried to get air inside her chest, but it just wouldn't come. It would be like with Roland, but worse. Much worse.

“No. Please, no.”

Her fingers clenched and her body prepared to fight. She was wrong. She did still matter.

Cassia was alive and at the moment, unharmed. She would fight, because she was worth that at least.

He squatted down in front of her.

“Lady Cassia?”

She continued to shake her head, the laughter now as far away as a happiness she once thought could be hers.

“Please, please. Not again. I cannot... Please, no.”