Captive on the High Seas. Christina Rich

been without food for weeks. “So, you have decided they are friends?”

      He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, never once looking at her. “Nay. My trust is not easily placed, especially in strangers who do not heed my warnings.”

      No doubt he spoke about her decision to defy his command and come out on deck. “Ay, I suppose the lack of trust can be true for strangers who steal others from their family.”

      He flinched, and she instantly stepped back. She knew her words were like a dagger. Knew if he hadn’t intervened with the burly bidder she would have been in a much worse position. That didn’t mean she liked her current situation.

      “Remember this, Ada, I did not steal you and I did not sell you to be auctioned off like sheep. Correct me if I am wrong, but the women who looked much like you, perhaps your own sisters, did that to you. What I wonder is, why?” His last words were no more than a whisper above the wind and light rain, but she heard them as if he shouted them in the silence of a clear desert night. He tilted his chin and pierced her with his turbulent black eyes. “Why is it, Ada? Why did your sisters feel the need to sell you? Did you steal the affections of their marriage prospects?”

      Ada’s jaw dropped. How dare he, but why indeed? That was a question that had burned in her heart and roared in her thoughts since the moment Dina shoved her into the hands of the trader. One thing was for certain—no man had ever paid her heed. They’d always vied for her sisters’ attentions whenever her father allowed interactions between them and prospective marriage partners. Her sisters disliked her and she never truly knew why, but Nicolaus’s accusations were far from the truth. She could only assume their hate was born out of their dislike for who—what—Ada’s mother was: a slave. Still, she was her father’s daughter the same as her sisters. She was not at fault for her father’s choice of concubines. “Ay, they hated me, due to no fault of my own.”

      She stomped across the deck as best she could, gripping the rail until her knuckles turned white so she would not slip and fall, or go for a swim as the captain believed. She was many things: stubborn ay, a fool nay. Her life may not be her own, and death one of the only choices left to her and her alone, but she did not choose it. The Lord of Heaven and earth reigned, and if her mother had been correct He would rescue her from a life of captivity. She believed it without doubt.

      Reaching the ladder, she climbed the rungs, stepped into the small room and then threw herself onto the cushioned bench. For the first time since being brought to this boat, she was thankful for the crashing waves rocking the vessel and the noisy wind stealing her sobs. “God, You will rescue me, will You not? Or am I to endure the same fate as my mother? A slave with no will of my own?”

      She wanted to go home, away from this man who both irritated and drew her like the soft lamb’s wool of her bedding after a long day tending chores. It didn’t matter that her sisters disliked her because her mother had been a Hebrew. At least she knew what to expect from them. Besides, they would all soon marry and have families of their own to tend, leaving her to her father’s house. It was not what she longed for, but it was better than this—being swept away to a foreign land with a stranger who was kind one moment and condescending the next. Much as her mother had been treated by her father. A slave, no more, no less.

      Ada dried her eyes, stretched out on the bench and folded her hands in front of her. The seams where the wood butted seemed to be flawless. They were coated with a yellow substance and not a single drop of rain leaked. The pine shone with a gloss, and she could not help but think the craftsmanship was much like the captain. He was a man of strength and purpose from all that she could tell, but he was also a man of rugged beauty. And if she were to look at the truth of it, his rudeness had gained her cooperation. Not once, but twice.

      She twisted her lips. Perhaps obedience was not the word, not in the sense her father demanded with a rough hand. Her father never would have asked. He only demanded, and if anyone refused to comply they were punished. Sometimes left without food. Memories of her mother tied to a stake outside the village entrance burned in Ada’s blood. After night had fallen, she’d taken her mother what little food and water could be procured without the watchful eye of her father’s wife. Still, it had not been enough.

      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