I awoke feeling disorientated. I couldn't work out which direction the ceiling should be in and I felt slightly nauseous. On top of that, my legs seemed to have gone to sleep. Damn it, I shouldn't have drunk so much last night. I usually managed to sneak back into the house before my father noticed my absence, but I had a feeling that whatever I did last night would have attracted his attention. I could almost hear his voice, telling me that I was no better than the servants are, and did I ever want to make a decent marriage, or would I rather end up as a drab in one of the taverns in town.
I groaned a little, and tried to settle my stomach before attempting to open my eyes, a challenge considering the previous evening. I often attended celebrations in the servants quarters, enjoying their lack of mannerisms and artificiality. It had taken time for them to feel comfortable with my presence, but many of them have known me since I was a small girl, and now at nineteen, I felt the need to rebel against my father's demands that I become a proper mistress of the house, just for a little while at least. They seemed to sympathise. So why was last night different? I remembered drinking a few cups of that evil punch the cook brews, and dancing with the stable lads, and cuddling the various babies before they were put to bed, but after that it's all a blank.
It's no good, I can't quell this swaying motion in my gut. I'm going to open my eyes, and get ready to face my father.
One, two, three. Daylight. Bright, white, harsh light, unfiltered by the curtains that should hang at my bedchamber window. Above me I should be looking at my bed canopy, with its embroidered leaves with small creatures nestling amongst them, but instead I could see dark wood, barely an armspan above me. My feeling of nausea deepened. Something was terribly wrong, and I could feel my stomach lurching with more than just the effects of too much rum punch. I couldn't move my arms and legs, and it slowly dawned on me that they were tied to the railing that borders this narrow bunk. This couldn't be someone's idea of a joke, could it? None of the servants would dare even with the familiarity I encouraged, and none of my peers had the nonce to stage a prank greater than hiding my needlework.
I turned my head to look around me. Oh sweet merciful God. Suddenly I was terribly sober, and I knew why my stomach had been rolling and churning. I was in the cramped cabin of a seagoing ship, and it sailed underway in a brisk wind some way into the day, as best I could tell. I could see the tiny glazed windows, and now I realized I could smell the tar, wood and salt. Don't panic, stay calm, maybe there is a reason.
I couldn't stay calm. I fought the bonds, raising welts on my skin and twisting the skirt of my shift against my legs. Oh no. Where were my clothes? I was lying in yesterday's shift and my stays. I'm not completely innocent despite what my father would prefer. I listen to the servant girls, and I know what is what, but still, I've not been undressed by anyone but my maid since I was in swaddling bands, and the thought that perhaps my current indignity might include assault filled me with horror. I concentrated on my body, but apart from the discomfort of the bonds on wrist and ankle I thought I felt the same. I wasn't not sure whether to feel relieved or not.
I must have slept again after a while, for when I opened my eyes this time, a man stood above me, very close. Startled, I tried to pull away. But the bonds that held me prevented any movement. I forced myself to concentrate, it may not be fashionable for a woman to have a brain, but I chose to use mine.
He was tall, I could tell that much from the way his head almost brushed the top of the cabin, and he was healthy, skin tanned brown, eyes surprisingly blue, thick straight brows that twisted upwards just a little towards the outer end. His long dark hair tied at the back of his neck, several days of stubble. Strongly muscled chest, just visible through the neck of his moderately clean shirt. He smelled very male, not exactly unwashed, but clearly soap did not play a large part in his daily routine. He held a pewter cup, and the look on his face seemed almost amused, supremely confident.
"I'm glad to see you awake," he said. "No doubt you have realised your predicament, but if you co-operate we can make this a pleasant voyage for the both of us." There seemed to be a double meaning in his words. Momentarily I was embarrassed that I could not grasp the full meaning.
"Explain yourself, " I demanded. "Why am I here, and who are you to stand over me so insolently?"
He just laughed at me, and released one of the straps that secure my wrists. "Now now, you are in no position to make demands, though I could think of a few uses for the position you are in." He looked at me, his eyes lingered down my body.
Aware of his gaze taking in the heave of my breasts beneath the tight stays and the shape of my limbs beneath the thin shift, I blushed. Worse, I could feel a slight tingling between my legs and felt enraged that my own body should misinterpret what is so obviously a dangerous situation.
My hand pulled free, and instinctively I slapped at his face, marvelling at the sound as my palm connects with his cheek. "How dare you." I spluttered ineffectually, but my rage was cut short by his reaction, as his free hand pinned mine to the bed behind my head, and his face, so close to mine became deadly serious.
"Miss, you have no idea how far I dare. This is my ship, and you are my captive, and until you are safely sold to the buyer I have arranged for you, you will do exactly what I tell you to. Do you understand that there are far worse things than my attentions on this voyage?"
Stunned, I could only nod, though my mind raced with the implication of what he had said. I was on a pirate ship, and the worst kind, a slaver! One that stole women to order. I'd heard tales, but never quite believed them until now. My eyes fixed on the cup that was still miraculously in his hand, my mouth felt thick and my tongue dry. He offered me a sip, forcing me to co-ordinate my own movements with his own in order to drink the sharp wine. It's taste was good, and it cleared my mouth.
"What do you plan with me?" I managed to ask.
"We have a few days on this voyage," he released my arm, and I realised that for the moment the fight has gone out of me. "You will behave as I tell you, and if you do, you may enjoy some privileges such as fresh air and exercise. At the end of the voyage, you go to a new master and I pocket a substantial fee. Should you defy me, then the crew can have you for all I care, the contract I have for you neglects to mention whether your state should be virginal on arrival." He paused for a moment, clearly enjoying the look of horror on my face. "Of course, I presume that you are in fact, intact? Or is that too indelicate a question for such a refined miss as yourself?"
