The Duke's Daughter -Wattys2014 Collector's Dream Award Winner-

Chapter Ten

Derek sat with Arianna in his arms for what felt like forever, yet it was not long enough. He had continued to rock her, running his hands through her hair, long after she had fallen asleep. He had touched her face, felt her stir, then settle more closely against him. He held her until the trembling finally subsided, until the creases in her brow had finally softened, then completely disappeared.

And he held her longer still.

It was sweet, sweet torture.

Her sleep softened, pliant body was fitted to his, her face rested against his shoulder, her breath repeatedly heated and cooled the defined valleys of his collarbone. Her full breasts were pressed to his chest and her round bottom rested on his thighs. Her arm was draped over him, her hand relaxed, and her fingertips brushed his skin.

He looked down at her sleeping face for a long time, he felt guilty for her state of shock. It could have been avoided. This woman in his arms astounded him. There were so many different sides to this beautiful angel. In one moment, she teased and taunted pirates with disarming smiles and seductive tones, and yet here she sat, sleeping upon his chest, still clinging to him for support.

That she would cling to him was something he did not even know how to infer. Would she have clung to Alejandro, had Derek been on watch instead, when Betsy's screams had awoken them?

He liked to think not. He wanted to believe that it was his arms that comforted her so, not just the presence of a warm, sea hardened body.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bunk. With one hand, he pulled down the furs, then he slipped beneath them with her still in his arms. She did not awaken though she mumbled something unintelligible and stretched out along his side. One shapely leg draped over his and her arm stretched over him to encircle his torso.

Heaven, pure bliss. To have her curled up against him, with very few layers of fabric between her skin and his was all he needed. He felt complete for the first time in... Well, perhaps for the first time ever.

Derek attempted to turn his mind, before his body, and his passions, were no longer satisfied with just having her close. He began to replay the morning's events through his mind. He had woken before the first scream, and though he knew something had awakened him, he knew not what. He had lain frozen in his bed until the blood curdling scream had rent the air. It had been then, that he had begun searching for his breeches. He had still been pulling them on in the dark, when the second scream found his ears.

He had thought it was Arianna screaming. After all, why would someone wish to harm her maid or his doctor? But then again, it had been Shaw that was murdered. But why?

The attack could have been pointed towards Arianna. It was not common knowledge that she had been moved to her own cabin. The thought that someone may want to harm his angel angered him.

Derek felt the beginnings of a headache seep into his brain. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He knew not who would commit such a violent crime aboard his ship, but he soon would. And once he did, the person responsible would come to pay, and most dearly.

That was a promise.

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Jonathan Hensley lay in his bunk feigning sleep for quite a while. He had made a huge mistake. Finally, the first mate descended the stairs to the crew's quarters. The Spaniard yelled out for all men to rise to their feet and Hensley did so along with the other crewmen.

He stretched and feigned a yawn, keeping his eyes half closed, hoping to appear to have just awoken. No one had seen him, neither entering or exiting the hallway to the captain's cabin. A door had opened at the end of the hall as he had scrambled up the stairs, after the girl screamed, but he had darkened the hallway.

He had not been able to discern who it had been, he assumed that he had not been discernable either. No one else could tie him to this.

If only that old hag had not been in the cabin, and if only Lady Kent had been. His mission was now a mess. He had acted too quickly once again. He had only meant to leave a note to scare the Lady. He had thought to catch her sleeping and leave the note on the pillow beside her.

It could not be helped though. He had gotten quite excited last eve, when on his watch, the ship that had been sighted was found to be the Avenger, Admiral Miser's pride and joy. That meant that allies were only a stone's throw away. He had meant to frighten her tonight, then he would have grabbed her in a few days, once Miser was closer. It would then have been easy to lower a small boat and get her away.

"Our doctor has been murdered." The Spaniard spoke. His dark eyes moving from one man to the next as he continued.

"We will find who is responsible. And once I do, the cat-o-nines awaits him." He pulled the deadly whip from its place at his waist and shook out the tails. A grim smile spread his lips and he slapped the tails across his own palm. Blood spilled through his fingers instantly.

Every crewman, including Hensley, stood at attention. The quarters were so quiet that the blood that dripped from the Spaniard's hand could be heard as it hit the floor at his feet. The Spaniard's face distorted as his gaze swept the entire group once more.

"If I find that any withhold information about the one responsible, they will share the repercussions. Now, is there anyone who has anything to share?"

A few men shook their heads, eyes wide, astounded at the events that had occurred while they slumbered. Hensley held his breath, but no one spoke out against him.

"I will give you until the tenth hour this morning to come forward. Either Captain Drake or myself will hear confessions. However, we will find out the truth, one way or another." He turned back to the stairs, he lifted one booted foot upon the bottom step, before he turned to look back at them over his shoulder.

"Believe me now, gentlemen. You do not want me to resort to other measures to find the truth." With one last look around the room, Alejandro turned and made his way back to the deck.

Hensley watched the blood continue to fall from the first mates injured hand to the wooden steps as Alejandro climbed the stairs and left the crew to their own devices.

Harry George, the man in the bunk below his, turned to him. Harry did not speak a word, but he did not need to.

It was plain in his eyes that Harry knew it had been him.