Free Rexanne Becnel by Heart of the Storm Page B

years old, and he’s crippled. You know that, Oliver. He can’t even walk on his own!”

    But the glib Oliver had no reply this time. Xavier stood up and extended a hand to her. His face was creased as if in thought—or worry, she feared.
    “Come along, miss. You cannot put off this meeting with the captain. Keep this in mind, however. He carries much anger in his heart, much anger and much pain. Heal that pain, however, and the anger will disappear.”
    Heal his pain? Had she not been so terrified, Eliza would have scoffed at Xavier’s words. What about Aubrey’s pain? And hers? But as Oliver took Aubrey in his arms and Xavier pulled Eliza to her feet, she was unable to verbalize her fears. They led the way down a low-ceilinged companionway toward their ominous captain, and Eliza felt for all the world like one of the early Christians being led into the lions’ presence. Even the promise of a heavenly reward could not still her fear of the coming confrontation.
    The chamber she was ushered into was much larger than she expected, and much better furnished. It wasn’t lavish. Hardly. Rather it bore the look of a well-used office, complete with a polished mahogany desk and a pair of leather chairs. But under the rear-facing diamond-paned windows was a huge bed, furnished with silk bed hangings, fringed pillows, and an immense, pure white fur throw. It was like a decadent slap in the face to an otherwise purely utilitarian space, and it sent an icy frisson of fear up her spine.
    “Let me see the boy.”
    Eliza gasped and spun around. Xavier had blocked her view, but now he stepped back and she had her first glimpse of the man who was the source of her present predicament.
    The captain of the Chameleon was a tall man, nearly as tall as Xavier. But he was lean and much harder looking than Xavier. Nor did he have any of Oliver’s carefree manner. From his black close-cropped hair, to the rigid set of his square jaw, to the burning intensity of his
dark eyes, he looked ruthless and unyielding, and her heart sank.
    He glanced at Aubrey, as if to assure himself that the child was indeed there. But then he turned his gaze upon her and she felt the full force of his animosity.
    He carries much anger in his heart . Xavier’s words echoed in her head. Yes, very much anger, she realized. The fact that it might be caused by much pain was no reassurance at all, however. It was the pain he meant to inflict upon her and her defenseless cousin that worried her far more.
    “I demand that you return us to our home.”
    Was that her voice so high and shaky? Eliza tried to swallow the lump of fear that lodged in her throat, but to no avail. If the captain heard her words he gave no indication. He just stood there, leaning back against an intricately tooled leather trunk, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest. It was a pose that would have been considered attractively nonchalant had he been a proper gentleman. Like Michael, she thought in vain hope. But this man was like a coiled spring, waiting to explode, she feared. On him that casual pose was nothing but threatening. He radiated pure menace; there was no other way to describe it.
    And she’d just demanded that he set her free.
    When he straightened up suddenly, she gave an involuntary jerk.
    “Which home is it you wish to be returned to, Miss Thoroughgood? Your villa in Funchal? The Lady Haberton? Perhaps your family’s home in London? Or, no, you look the rustic sort. Perhaps your country place?”
    Eliza’s gray eyes grew round as saucers. How did he know so much about her? Her name was one thing. But where she lived? Without thinking she turned a panic-stricken face to Xavier. But the captain cut off that avenue of support with a sharp order.

    “Leave us.”
    “But Cyprian—” Xavier began.
    “I said leave us.” He bit out the words slowly. “Put the boy in the cabin prepared for him. Miss Thoroughgood and I will have a brief chat. Then she