Free Surrender to Love by Cordelia Sands Page B

captor shackled the ankles of each of the women, their movements restricted by the short length of chain that suspended between their bare feet.  Single-file, they shuffled down the narrow walk space that stretched the length of the ship.
    The cargo stacked in the hold was a pirate’s collection of ill-gotten gains.  Crates of French wine and a tower of wooden boxes haphazardly marked “SILKS” lined the arched walls.  Four more crude cells oufitted with iron bars interspersed between the merchandise.
    And musty odors, laced with the not-so-unpleasant smells of stolen spices, assaulted her delicate nose.  Cinnamon, Sabine detected amongst the sourness.  And cloves.  Christmas smells…in the middle of July.  They made her think of home again; but the pangs that had once struck her heart painfully now resounded with only a vague, hollow reminder – almost as though it really didn’t matter anymore.
    The powerful brightness of the sun struck her blind as she stood transfixed on the last ladder rung that led above deck, her eyelids screwed tight to ward off the burning glare that besieged her.  Pungent, salty air pricked her nostrils, reassuring her failing belief that she was truly alive, not simply an empty husk of a person.
    “Get a move on.”
    A callus-roughened hand shoved her from behind and Sabine sprawled unceremoniously across the deck.  She squinted, her eyes tearing painfully in the brilliance.  It hurt.  It hurt so fiercely she thought she might truly cry.  But it was sunlight…and a sense of freedom.
    The rattle of chains invaded Sabine’s thoughts, and the tight pack of two dozen or so women closed around her, stealing away her fresh air and replacing it with the rancid familiarity of pressing bodies.  Pushing her way to the edge of the crowd, she filled her lungs with the precious salt air she had awaited for so long.
    “What do you expect us to do now?” Patsy quipped saucily, her hands propped defiantly on her hips.
    “I’ll show ya.”
    A wiry, copper-haired youth smiled and winked invitingly, taking a step toward her before another grabbed him by the arm and jerked him forcibly to the side.
    “You ain’t ta do nothin’,” the other snapped as he rubbed impatiently at the thin, jagged scar that ran the length of his cheek.  “Blackie’d have yer hide.”
    “I was only jokin’,” the smaller man whined as he slunk guiltily away from the group.
    Sabine ignored their arguing and closed her eyes against the warmth that bathed her tired face.  She didn’t want to think of them.  And she was unwilling to allow these men to spoil her precious moments in the sun.  She stubbornly refused to hear anything, but instead focused fully on the rhythmic rising and falling of her breathing and the breeze that ruffled her hair.
    From behind the crowd came the sudden outburst of raucous male laughter, followed by the terrified squeal of a panicked voice.
    Felicity.  Oh, God, came Sabine’s frantic thoughts as her eyes flew open.  Where was she?
    Sabine spun as a blur of blue cotton dashed past her.  Loose hair streaming about her face, the girl clamored awkwardly atop the ship’s railing, clutching desperately at the coarse hemp ropes that rose above her.
    Felicity.
    Two burly men rushed to recapture her, and a scream of terror sprang from the young woman’s throat.  Heart racing, Sabine tried to look away, but couldn’t; she just couldn’t – no matter how passionately she willed herself.  Her ears filled with the panicked screams, the rattling chains, the din of murmurings that surrounded her.  And her eyes continued to fix themselves unmovingly on the girl who clung desperately to the ropes.
    “You git down from there,” the man with the thin scar demanded as they advanced cautiously.
    Felicity shook her head fiercely, a sob escaping her as her hands held fast to her rough lifelines, her balance wavering dangerously.
    “Come on,” the red-haired man coaxed soothingly, his