as straight as a board. When the women's footsteps had died away, Doctor Flynn leaned forward on his elbows. "Sean, she has no weight to lose. If she holds out. . ."
"She won't."
"That girl is more stubborn than you realize," Liam cut in. "She might have gotten away from us in Runcorn if she hadn't chosen the worst dive on the docks for a haven. And on board—"
Now Flannery spoke. "She made sheep's eyes at Galahad here and relieved him of his pistol. She was all for commandeerin' the dinghy and takin' her chances in a snowstorm."
Sean scoffed, "The little witch would have had a short row frozen to the oars."
Flannery cocked an eyebrow. "Long enough to maybe raise Antrim."
"She won't last in that hole belowstairs with nothing to eat!" Liam protested again.
"Did her sheep's eyes melt more than your brain?" Sean cut back curtly. "You could have lost the lives of your crew, not to mention your own, the boat, and that black-haired baggage who can hang the lot of us." He stood up and leaned over the table, fingers splayed on the linen. "Now, get this through your heads. She's my prisoner. If I've a whim to flay her on Dublin Commons, it's nothing to you."
An awkward silence fell. Liam sat rigid, his knuckles white on the chair arms. Sean kicked his chair back. "I suggest we get on with the day's business."
Flannery and Flynn rose, but Liam remained where he was. "I'd like a word with my brother in private," he said tersely. Flannery and Flynn exchanged glances and withdrew.
With a short sigh of exasperation, Sean dropped into his chair. "What is it?"
"Sean, I may be a figurehead here, but I demand respect."
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Demand it?"
"I accord you respect. . ."
"I earn it."
"And I don't? Is that why you undermine my position? Do you expect me to accept public criticism?"
"Did you merit the criticism?"
"Yes, I don't deny it."
"Then you must accept it. You accepted a commission you nearly aborted. Had you given me a like responsibility I failed to carry out, I would be subject to your reprimand. If this were a formal army, I would be liable to court- martial."
"This isn't wartime and it was your private scheme—"
"That you agreed to see through."
Liam looked away in frustration, then back. "Very well." His voice was toneless. "I see your point."
"Good. Now that we've reached this stage, I concede your point. I should have spoken to you privately. I lost my temper." He held out his hand. "We're into the shank of the morning, brother. Shall we get on with the day's work?"
Liam hesitated. "On one condition. Don't starve that girl."
Sean's green eyes narrowed. "I won't bargain, Liam." He paused. "When she understands for the first time in her pampered life what hunger means, I'll feed her. Not before." He pulled Liam easily to his feet and gave his shoulder a slap. "Don't fret, Galahad. I've no intention of making her any skinnier than she is. Last night was like bedding a bag of rabbit bones." He turned away before Liam could tell if he was lying.
CHAPTER 3
The Swinging Star
When Catherine, who had instantly fallen asleep in her cell, opened her eyes, twilight revealed a mug of water on the floor beside her bed. Resisting the urge to drain it, she drank just enough to quiet her hunger pangs, then again slept half the clock around until late morning of the next day. In a stupor, she groped for the mug and, despite her restraint, downed most of it before the stomachache dulled. She wondered how long she could hold out; if the Irishman was capable of kidnap and rape, he was capable of letting her starve. He'll hang, she swore vengefully, and I'll dance a jig about the gibbet to show him how to kick his heels. But oddly, as she drifted back to fevered sleep, her mind evaded the point when the noose choked the life from the magnificent, marred animal who had attacked her in a kind of torment equal to her own.
Her dreams swirled and twisted like vapors over a marsh. Somehow the old, recurrent nightmare
"She won't."
"That girl is more stubborn than you realize," Liam cut in. "She might have gotten away from us in Runcorn if she hadn't chosen the worst dive on the docks for a haven. And on board—"
Now Flannery spoke. "She made sheep's eyes at Galahad here and relieved him of his pistol. She was all for commandeerin' the dinghy and takin' her chances in a snowstorm."
Sean scoffed, "The little witch would have had a short row frozen to the oars."
Flannery cocked an eyebrow. "Long enough to maybe raise Antrim."
"She won't last in that hole belowstairs with nothing to eat!" Liam protested again.
"Did her sheep's eyes melt more than your brain?" Sean cut back curtly. "You could have lost the lives of your crew, not to mention your own, the boat, and that black-haired baggage who can hang the lot of us." He stood up and leaned over the table, fingers splayed on the linen. "Now, get this through your heads. She's my prisoner. If I've a whim to flay her on Dublin Commons, it's nothing to you."
An awkward silence fell. Liam sat rigid, his knuckles white on the chair arms. Sean kicked his chair back. "I suggest we get on with the day's business."
Flannery and Flynn rose, but Liam remained where he was. "I'd like a word with my brother in private," he said tersely. Flannery and Flynn exchanged glances and withdrew.
With a short sigh of exasperation, Sean dropped into his chair. "What is it?"
"Sean, I may be a figurehead here, but I demand respect."
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Demand it?"
"I accord you respect. . ."
"I earn it."
"And I don't? Is that why you undermine my position? Do you expect me to accept public criticism?"
"Did you merit the criticism?"
"Yes, I don't deny it."
"Then you must accept it. You accepted a commission you nearly aborted. Had you given me a like responsibility I failed to carry out, I would be subject to your reprimand. If this were a formal army, I would be liable to court- martial."
"This isn't wartime and it was your private scheme—"
"That you agreed to see through."
Liam looked away in frustration, then back. "Very well." His voice was toneless. "I see your point."
"Good. Now that we've reached this stage, I concede your point. I should have spoken to you privately. I lost my temper." He held out his hand. "We're into the shank of the morning, brother. Shall we get on with the day's work?"
Liam hesitated. "On one condition. Don't starve that girl."
Sean's green eyes narrowed. "I won't bargain, Liam." He paused. "When she understands for the first time in her pampered life what hunger means, I'll feed her. Not before." He pulled Liam easily to his feet and gave his shoulder a slap. "Don't fret, Galahad. I've no intention of making her any skinnier than she is. Last night was like bedding a bag of rabbit bones." He turned away before Liam could tell if he was lying.
CHAPTER 3
The Swinging Star
When Catherine, who had instantly fallen asleep in her cell, opened her eyes, twilight revealed a mug of water on the floor beside her bed. Resisting the urge to drain it, she drank just enough to quiet her hunger pangs, then again slept half the clock around until late morning of the next day. In a stupor, she groped for the mug and, despite her restraint, downed most of it before the stomachache dulled. She wondered how long she could hold out; if the Irishman was capable of kidnap and rape, he was capable of letting her starve. He'll hang, she swore vengefully, and I'll dance a jig about the gibbet to show him how to kick his heels. But oddly, as she drifted back to fevered sleep, her mind evaded the point when the noose choked the life from the magnificent, marred animal who had attacked her in a kind of torment equal to her own.
Her dreams swirled and twisted like vapors over a marsh. Somehow the old, recurrent nightmare
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