His brown eyes are no longer aloof or disinterested. There’s surprise there, surprise, and then triumph.
It’s the triumph that makes my chin quiver.
He shoves the torch over to Quarter for him to hold, the man instantly gripping it. Then the captain reaches forward, grabbing my tangled braid, and holds the strands in front of the light. He drops it after a few seconds, and then my hand is snatched up. He yanks off my glove, studying my fingers, my palm, my nails. My skin glitters in the firelight.
“It can’t be,” he mutters before he reaches up and yanks away the red cloth that covers his face, the fabric lying around his neck like a scarf. He’s younger than I would’ve first guessed—maybe only in his early thirties.
To my disgust, the captain pulls my hand closer and then licks the skin below my thumb. I cringe, trying to pull away, but he holds me firmly and then rubs at the licked spot, like he wants to see if the gold will come off.
Paint. The other pirate had thought I was covered in paint. The captain just realized that I’m not.
A slow, daunting smile spreads across his face. A face laid bare for me to see, with a mouth revealing a few missing teeth that have been replaced with the same white wood as the ship. Short, dark blond facial hair growing on only his chin, the ends gathered in red beads. A thick piercing through his left ear, a plug of red-stained wood filling the hole. I don’t dare wonder if it’s been soaked in blood.
My mouth goes dry at that smile, at that look he gives me. It’s the kind of look that tells a woman all she needs to know about what kind of man has hold of her. If I had breath in my lungs, I would scream. But I’m dried up, emptied out. The only thing inside of my chest is that steaming guilt and a cold clutch of terror.
Without warning, the captain snatches my wrist and tugs me forward. I stumble at the unexpected move, but he spins around on his heel, raising my hand high above my head like a show of victory, like a prize to show off. “Reds! Look at the treasure we unburied!”
His voice booms across the Barrens like a drum.
“We’ve got Midas’s gilded whore!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A shockwave seems to pass over the pirates at Captain Fane’s revelation.
First, there’s stunned silence. I feel hundreds of eyes settling onto me, appraising me, before their shock gives way to something else. Something worse.
Shouts rise up, louder than even the fire claws’ growls. I jump from the sound, trying to tear my hand away, but the captain’s hold only tightens around my wrist.
He turns back to me, elation clear in his eyes. “Look at her. Even her dress is gold. This hair, too.” He drops my wrist to snatch up some of my hair, fisting it in his grip. “The golden pet of Highbell.”
The captain turns back to his men, his hold unrelenting. “We snatched Midas’s favored.” The pirates chuckle, pleased, so immensely pleased with themselves.
“He’ll pay you,” I blurt, my voice finally coming out, though it’s quiet, stretched thin. He drops his hold from my hair, my scalp pulsing in time with my hammering heart. “His guards, his saddles…me…he’ll pay you whatever ransom you want. Just don’t hurt us.”
Captain Fane smirks. “Oh, I’m not going to ransom you. I can fetch a far higher price elsewhere.”
His words hollow out a pit in my stomach, dark and bottomless.
“I’ll be keeping this one ’til we sell her off to the highest bidder. Put the word out.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Quarter replies with a nod. “King Midas’s favored? There will be plenty who will be wanting her.”
“The rest of them can be divvied up to entertain the men for their hard work,” he tells his second-in-command. The pirates near enough to hear whoop out in celebration. The saddles cry.
Captain Fane’s eyes look down where Polly is still unconscious in a heap in the snow. “And put ’em to work, too, to earn their way. They need toughening up.”
Quarter nods. “Consider it done, Cap.”
The captain nods, a wicked gleam in his gaze that flicks over me. “I’ll enjoy having Midas’s gold-plated prisoner kept in my cabin.”
My trembling body starts shaking even harder, chin wobbling. I can already see the pain he intends to inflict, the force he aims to assault me with. It’s all there, in his eyes.
His hand comes up to grope my breast, fingers pinching, touch revolting. I try to shove him off, but he just laughs and squeezes harder. “Aye, I’ll like breaking this one in. Midas’s fucking favored,” he laughs, like he can’t believe his good luck. “I wish I could see the look on the bastard’s face when he finds out I took her, used her, and then sold her off.”