Captive on the High Seas. Christina Rich

of bare feet and legs caught his eye when the sun-bleached linen and waves of wheat-colored tresses thrust upward.

      “Xandros! Brison!” He jumped from the command post and onto the deck. He did not wait to see if the two followed. Unhinging the clasp at his shoulder, he removed his outer cloak, leaving only his undertunic on, and ran toward the back of the ship. He grabbed hold of the end of the coiled rope, kept at either end of the boat in the instance a man fell overboard, and hopped over the rail. He dove into the water. He’d sailed since he was a young boy and never once imagined anyone would willingly throw themselves to the mercy of the sea. Had she preferred to take her chances with the waves, or had she slipped overboard?

      He blew the salty water from his nose and kicked toward the surface. Relaxing his muscles, he allowed his body to bob with the waves while he tied the rope around his waist. Brison’s bellow rose above the seas and the oarsmen reversed direction. Nicolaus would be thankful later that the coming storm had prevented them from unfurling the sail.

      “Nicolaus!”

      Xandros stood on the rail, pointing northward. The woman’s bound hands rose above her head before disappearing in the choppy water. Nicolaus bit back a curse. Brison should have cut her loose, but then Nicolaus should have ordered him to cut her loose. Perhaps then she’d have a better chance against the sea.

      Not that she would have much of a chance if she did not know how to swim. The sea often took humans captive. She bobbed above the water, gasping for air, and he realized she had been pulled farther away than he expected. He hoped the rope reached that far.

      “Nicolaus!” He did not need to look at his friend to see the warning. The way the sea bubbled around his legs and rose against his chest, he knew a large wave was bearing down on them.

      He dove beneath the water, beneath the fall of the wave until it passed. Kicking upward, he broke the surface and sucked in air before slicing his arms through the water toward the last place he’d seen her.

      “Where?” There was no time for patience. However, his gut told him to wait a few beats of his pulse. The water once again rose. God, my uncle is certain You are real. I did not save the woman only to see her swallowed by the ocean.

      The wave tugged at him and crashed down upon his head before he could swim under it. He tumbled deeper away from the surface, slamming into a tangle of seaweed. No, it could not be seaweed, they were far enough away from the shore and he was not that close to the bottom.

      Was he?

      Something bumped against his leg. His eyes flew open. A mass of tresses expanded from either side of her heart-shaped face. The strands took on a life of their own as they obeyed the motion of the turbulent water. He wrapped his arms around her and kicked his legs until they broke the surface. Her body lay lifeless in his arms. Brushing her hair from her eyes, he willed them to open.

      He spun her around so her back was pressed against his chest, and wrapped his arm tight around her stomach. He lay on his back and started to swim toward the boat when she began coughing. Her lids fluttered open and then widened in fear. She smacked her head against his shoulder as she arched against his chest. He tightened his hold on her as the sea began to bubble against his legs, but she managed to twist her body around to face him.

      “Trust me.” Staring into her eyes, he spoke her language and willed her to trust him. If only until they set foot on the boat. “Hold your breath. I am taking you under.”

      He glanced toward the large wave as it rolled toward them. Her muscles tensed.

      “Now.”

      She sucked in air a moment before he propelled them beneath the wave. With his arms wrapped around her waist, he once again pushed them toward the surface. He shifted her against his side and sliced through the water toward the boat—her hair tangling with his arms and legs hindered him. After only three strokes, the woman tensed and began to struggle against his hold.

      “Halt!”

      She jabbed her elbow into his ribs, but he held tight.

      “You will die.”

      She dug her heel against his shin. Twisting in his arms, she clouted his jaw, scratched at his eyes. He was a good swimmer, one thing he’d always beaten his brother at, but she was making it difficult. He seemed to be swallowing more water than usual.

      “Halt,” he growled near her ear, jerking her against him. If she did not stop they would both die, and then he’d, most assuredly, lose against his brother. A shame, given he’d just begun to feel alive again.

      Her eyes filled with tears, or perhaps it was only the sea. Whatever it was, her fear and sadness reached into his soul and tugged with a greater force than any wave. He knew right then he’d do anything to protect her, even allow the sea to take him.

      “I am scared.” Her eyelids slid shut, pushing tears down her cheeks until the droplets fell into the bobbing water.

      Did she wish to meet her maker? Was he so fearsome that she preferred death over his company?

      “Home.”

      His gut constricted. He understood that one word, had longed for home with great sickness during his own captivity. He glanced toward the shore, the large tower, a mere speck of sand on the horizon. However, with the sea once again rising he did not have time to span their language barrier and explain that he’d take her home after he’d beaten his brother in their quest.

      As if guessing his intentions, she slammed her bound fists against his nose, forcing him to loosen his hold. Her arms flailed, and she kicked her legs against his as she struggled to keep her head above water.

      Nicolaus grabbed hold of her tunic, her hair enslaving his forearm and chest. Tugging on the rope attached to his waist, he bound her arms to her sides and then to him. Even though it seemed the fight had drained from her limbs, he was not willing to risk losing. He hated losing, even when he gave up. But giving up was not possible. Not now.

      With her back cradled against his chest, he twisted onto his back and kicked his legs. “Xandros, pull!”

      After what seemed like long moments, Xandros and Brison pulled them onto the deck. Nicolaus untangled from her hair and loosened the rope from her body and then from himself. He lifted her into his arms, cradled her against his chest and carried her toward his chambers. He climbed the four rungs of the ladder, ducked beneath the beam and set her in the corner before returning to the portal.

      “Brison, see the men work double time. We must get ahead of the storm. Xandros, report to the command post. Once the storm passes, we sail west across the Great Sea.”

      Nicolaus raked a shaking hand through his hair. Droplets of water splattered to the deck and pooled with the sea dripping from his tunic. He eased in a breath and blew it out slowly. Several times before facing her.

      She huddled against the corner, cloaked in her glorious mane with her eyelids closed. He could almost believe she was a creature of the sea. A daughter of the fabled gods. However, her beauty was incomparable to the stories of the beautiful creatures luring sailors from their ships.

      Drawing her knees into her chest, she shivered with a violence that shook even him and near caused him to lose his legs. As if sensing he watched her, she opened her eyes. Fire raged in the depths of her glittering jewels. The quivering of her jaw belied the fearless front etched on her face. If not for the rope around her neck and binding her hands she could have held court in the finest palaces. How could anyone sell their relative? Of course, he knew. He had seen the petty jealousy of the women watching this maid’s fate. Who was she to them? A sister, a cousin? No doubt, a servant in their father’s house. A cruel master to allow his daughters to send such a creature to the auction block and near into the hands of Ashkelon’s darkness.

      Had his sister suffered such a fate? The anger he’d fought to calm resurfaced. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. The maid lifted her chin as if to defy his anger.

      Shaking his head in disbelief at the woman’s misplaced courage and