Read Online Passion's Joy by Jennifer Horsman - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Horsman
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it—"
Ram had set down his cup and motioning for silence, said simply, "You will not speak until
asked."
"The bloody hell I—"
With no warning, Ram brought the bunt end of a pistol against the man's face with an
untaxed strength that even few in this room could match. The impact threw Captain Willis hard
against the floor, and Joy screamed as her hands flew to her mouth with the shock of his demonstration showing the terrifying difference between how he treated a man as opposed to herself. The man struggled to lift himself up but collapsed with the effort. As though he had done nothing more than swat a bothersome mosquito, Ram's gaze returned to Sean.
"The cargo was what one might expect." Sean continued with matched dispassion. "Though I suppose certain details bare mentioning. The Blue Crest was rigged as a brig and small at that— less than three hundred tons—but with a burden any seaman would find too large for a thousand ton schooner."
"The exact number, Sean," Ram demanded. 'Two hundred and eleven."
The number hung in the air, seemingly more damning than God Almighty’s fingers, and Joy tried to understand what it meant.
"Needless to say"—Sean shrugged—"this forced our good captain here to position his passengers back to back lengthwise, stacked like oh so many flapjacks in a small four-foot hold. And apparently either the crew was particularly lazy or the rations particularly bad, for there was one dead man to everyone still managing to breathe in that stench."
A slaver! Joy's eyes widened enormously before dropping to the man lying on the floor. If even half of what Sean claimed was true, then it was not cruelty etched in the hard features of his face but evil. The unconscionable evil, Joshua often said, of running a slaver was the first, most awful step in the long journey to hell.
Uncertainty added to her fear as she looked at Ram anew. So many thoughts clamored for her attention, she could hardly make sense of it beyond the single pressing question. What part does he play in this evil?
"The crew?" Ram asked next.
"Ah, we dealt with them," Sean sighed, smiling. "You know how hard it is to control my men in these situations."
The men's grunts, nods and amusement lent credibility to Sean's assertion, but Ram answered with: "I only know how little you try."
Sean smiled with a shrug. "Don't worry, my lord, I did manage to save you this captain, and in the event he perishes before he breaks, I have two of his, ah, officers in wait."
hard."
"Oh, he'll break all right," Ram said, looking at the fallen man. "I wager it won't even be
"About that," Sean said with the barest hint of disgust lifting through his dispassionate
interest, "we also found two wenches tied and beaten in the captain's cabin. The man's obvious fondness for whips might enhance your much deserved reputation for dealing justice poetically."
The meaning of this was not lost on Ram, and he chuckled lightly as he motioned to two of his men waiting on the sidelines. Missing not a word or implication, Joy watched as the fallen man was lifted to his feet by two of Ram's men. One of these men drew a clean shiny saber. The sword sliced through the ropes that bound the captain's hands, but before he had even shaken blood back to his numb limbs, his arms were forced over his head and bound again.
An ugly swollen welt already marred his face, and his nose was broken. Fear finally found its way into his face as, with smooth practiced motions, Ram's man tossed the rope over an overhanging beam and then secured the tail to the table, which was held down by the elbows of over ten of the strong and able-bodied men watching.
Joy's attention riveted to the scene, and she did not see the man enter the tavern, quickly making his way to Ram's side. He was middle-aged, in his forties, with a magnificent mane of silver and white hair and bright blue eyes. The quickness with which he approached Ram seemed in defiance with his immense stocky
Ram had set down his cup and motioning for silence, said simply, "You will not speak until
asked."
"The bloody hell I—"
With no warning, Ram brought the bunt end of a pistol against the man's face with an
untaxed strength that even few in this room could match. The impact threw Captain Willis hard
against the floor, and Joy screamed as her hands flew to her mouth with the shock of his demonstration showing the terrifying difference between how he treated a man as opposed to herself. The man struggled to lift himself up but collapsed with the effort. As though he had done nothing more than swat a bothersome mosquito, Ram's gaze returned to Sean.
"The cargo was what one might expect." Sean continued with matched dispassion. "Though I suppose certain details bare mentioning. The Blue Crest was rigged as a brig and small at that— less than three hundred tons—but with a burden any seaman would find too large for a thousand ton schooner."
"The exact number, Sean," Ram demanded. 'Two hundred and eleven."
The number hung in the air, seemingly more damning than God Almighty’s fingers, and Joy tried to understand what it meant.
"Needless to say"—Sean shrugged—"this forced our good captain here to position his passengers back to back lengthwise, stacked like oh so many flapjacks in a small four-foot hold. And apparently either the crew was particularly lazy or the rations particularly bad, for there was one dead man to everyone still managing to breathe in that stench."
A slaver! Joy's eyes widened enormously before dropping to the man lying on the floor. If even half of what Sean claimed was true, then it was not cruelty etched in the hard features of his face but evil. The unconscionable evil, Joshua often said, of running a slaver was the first, most awful step in the long journey to hell.
Uncertainty added to her fear as she looked at Ram anew. So many thoughts clamored for her attention, she could hardly make sense of it beyond the single pressing question. What part does he play in this evil?
"The crew?" Ram asked next.
"Ah, we dealt with them," Sean sighed, smiling. "You know how hard it is to control my men in these situations."
The men's grunts, nods and amusement lent credibility to Sean's assertion, but Ram answered with: "I only know how little you try."
Sean smiled with a shrug. "Don't worry, my lord, I did manage to save you this captain, and in the event he perishes before he breaks, I have two of his, ah, officers in wait."
hard."
"Oh, he'll break all right," Ram said, looking at the fallen man. "I wager it won't even be
"About that," Sean said with the barest hint of disgust lifting through his dispassionate
interest, "we also found two wenches tied and beaten in the captain's cabin. The man's obvious fondness for whips might enhance your much deserved reputation for dealing justice poetically."
The meaning of this was not lost on Ram, and he chuckled lightly as he motioned to two of his men waiting on the sidelines. Missing not a word or implication, Joy watched as the fallen man was lifted to his feet by two of Ram's men. One of these men drew a clean shiny saber. The sword sliced through the ropes that bound the captain's hands, but before he had even shaken blood back to his numb limbs, his arms were forced over his head and bound again.
An ugly swollen welt already marred his face, and his nose was broken. Fear finally found its way into his face as, with smooth practiced motions, Ram's man tossed the rope over an overhanging beam and then secured the tail to the table, which was held down by the elbows of over ten of the strong and able-bodied men watching.
Joy's attention riveted to the scene, and she did not see the man enter the tavern, quickly making his way to Ram's side. He was middle-aged, in his forties, with a magnificent mane of silver and white hair and bright blue eyes. The quickness with which he approached Ram seemed in defiance with his immense stocky
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