Christina Rich - Captive on the High Seas

Nicolaus had not proven cruel since his purchase of her. His kindness, although soured by his insensitivity, elicited a longing within her chest. A longing that caused her to dream of things she’d never thought to before. A family of her own, a household to care for. Love did not matter. A caring husband, much like she imagined Nicolaus would be, did not matter.

A memory of him brushing back her hair with tenderness, of him holding her while her stomach heaved, the comforting circles he massaged on her back...she closed her eyes as a tear slid down her cheek. Her mother had offered her such tenderness when she could and suffered dire consequences when caught by her father’s wife. How was it that her father mourned her mother’s passing when his character toward her spoke of dislike? Of course, Ada would not have known the difference if not for Nicolaus. And for that, mayhap she should despise the captain.

She rose from the bench and drew close to the window. Sea spray bathed her face, and she was thankful the rain no longer poured from the skies to hinder her sight. Nicolaus grabbed the hand of a woman who teetered on a wide plank and helped her onto the deck. His lips moved as he spoke. The harsh lines etching his cheeks and furrowing his brow disappeared as the woman smiled and bowed her head. Brison gave her a cask and some bread before motioning to a small group of people huddled together near the command post.

Shame filled Ada’s eyes, lodging in her throat. She was spoiled as her sisters oft claimed. Here she was bemoaning her fate, when these people were truly troubled, lost at sea. The heat of Nicolaus’s gaze drew her attention, and the harsh lines reappeared. She straightened her posture. Lifting her chin, she moved from the window and descended the ladder. Careful not to bump any of the seafarers, she made her way toward Nicolaus’s man and was pleased to discover if she kept her knees slightly bent she could maneuver the deck with ease.

She laid her hand on Brison’s shoulder. He glanced at her, his eyes narrowed.

“I would help, if it pleases you?”

Brison shifted his gaze to his brother. It irritated her a little that he needed Nicolaus’s permission, that she needed his permission, to help.

“Are you well?” The concern in Nicolaus’s voice curled around her insides, leaving her feeling weak, but she would not allow it to discourage her. “I will not have you tumbling into the water.”

Ada stiffened her spine and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Of course he would think of nothing but the cost of losing her. What did she expect after knowing him a short amount of time? That his kindness toward her meant he cared for her as a person? His words proved otherwise, and oddly the sting in her chest hurt much worse than the pebbles her sisters were wont to toss at her. “Well enough.”

The corners of his mouth slid upward. Something squeezed tight in her chest, trapping the air in her lungs. Had there been a more confusing man to ever cross her path?

Never. They were either outwardly cruel or showed false kindness in order to gain an appropriate trade with her father. This man seemed to approve of her actions. His words were both kind and biting. She’d oft longed for the approval of someone, anyone outside of her mother, and most important from her siblings as they had seemed to share the same lot as her. But for some reason, his smile meant more than she expected. It meant more than the need to go home.

A home where a strong arm ruled and kindness was absent. A home where it was near impossible to be accepted for the Hebrew woman she was. A home where there were few smiles unless she was being laughed at by her sisters.

* * *

An intense amount of joy built within his chest, much like it had the first time he had hit the mark with his arrow when he was no more than a boy. Ada’s courage, especially in the midst of a turbulent sea and stomach, gave him hope, and yet made him pause. If his crew had had half the courage of this slip of a woman, the seafarers never would have boarded his ship and stolen his freedom and the greatest treasure he’d ever had care of, his sister. If his crew had had Ada’s bravery, they never would have been taken captive by David’s men.

He should not think so harshly of them. He could not fathom the burden his crew had carried with them. His own burden had been heavy during his captivity, but only because he did not know what sort of fate his dear sister had met. His brother Jasen had told him of his crew’s determination and of their disappointment when their search gained them nothing. Of course, his crew had not suspected David of such a deception. No matter Nicolaus’s assurances that there had been naught they could have done to save him and Desma, he could still see the wary looks on their faces. It was as if they no longer trusted him as their captain and perhaps they shouldn’t.

Xandros danced across the beams connecting the boats as if he were a butterfly flitting from flower to flower with no cares in the world. His second-in-command leaped to the deck. “Their boat is worse than we first imagined, splintered in various places from a battering ram. They’re carrying the weight of the sea. ’Tis why they’re sitting so low.”

Nicolaus pressed his lips together and pulled air in through his nose. “What is it you are not telling me?”

“You’ve allowed the woman out, I see.” Xandros nodded toward Ada. Nicolaus’s gaze followed. She knelt in front of two small children huddled in the corner by themselves and offered them water. “They have nothing but old women and crippled men. The one who acted as helm is a boy of no more than six or seven summers. A fine job he did, but he’s weakened by their days at sea with no sustenance.”

Nicolaus took in the haggard features of the child. The dark circles beneath his eyes and sunken cheeks reminded him of the young boys who’d been enslaved with him. Many of them had been worked until they fell to their deaths.

“What is it you suggest, Xandros?” Although they’d fewer rowers by half the norm, allowing them more room to store merchandise, there was little space left. The lower portions had been filled with goods from all over the Great Sea and bringing these people on board would only cause them problems if they did encounter thieves. It would also slow him down and cost him time. Time he did not possess. The sooner he arrived at his father’s house the easier he would breathe knowing Ada would no longer be at risk, especially since they were not heavily guarded.

“If they continue as they have been they’ll only meet their deaths.”

“Are there no able-bodied men among them?”

The look in his friend’s eyes worried him. What had happened to these people? He dared not ask, yet evidence poked out from all angles, telling him the answer. These people had met with the worst of seafarers. A shout of alarm from one of his men had Nicolaus drawing his dagger from its sheath until he noticed his man carrying a small bundle, and another of his men cradling a small, elderly woman in his arms. His men carried them toward the others and Ada with her golden tresses hanging over her shoulder rushed to attend them. “From what I can gather they left their island when the mountain caught fire.”

Such an occurrence often happened. Many believed it was the gods’ way of punishing the people for not honoring them correctly. Something Nicolaus had long ago given up on. The gods had paid little heed to him when he’d been captured, and he’d never strayed from the rituals to deserve their anger. Not until recently. He would no longer be a pawn in their games. If he denied their existence, they could not abuse their powers over him. “That does not explain where their men have gone.”