Page 57 of Hooked

His fingers tightened and he brought his face closer to mine. “Or shall I push you in the water and see how long you last with your hands bound and that lovely heavy gown pulling you to the bottom?”

I wanted to lash out at him, to spit in his face, but his threat sat all too real on my shoulders. Yes, I could swim, but I’d only done so in ponds and streams. And never in the layers of heavy fabric that wrapped my body now, and certainly not with my hands tied. I’d never had reason to fear drowning before.

I feared it now.

He gave a little shove and I did as he wished. I stepped into the rowboat. He quickly clambered in after me, pushing off right away and sparing just a moment to check his blasted pocket watch before taking the oars in hand with expert skill.

Though I trembled with fear and cold, I did my best to sit upright as tears coursed silently down my cheeks. With each stroke of the oars through the water, I was drawn further from salvation.

17

As Huckley’s arms worked to pull us across the swells, I kept casting my eyes about, hoping to see a lantern bobbing on the water, the shadow of another boat, the sound of another set of oars.

And I did. My eyes would see the glint of a lantern only to realize it was nothing but moonlight. Time and time again my ears tricked me into believing I heard something, but when I would look, there was nothing there.

We bumped up against the side of the ship and Huckley pulled the oars into the boat as he nodded toward the ladder. “Up you go.”

I stared at him for a moment, then presented my bound hands to him.

He sneered. “You can climb with them tied.”

“I don’t see how. And even if it were technically possible, you tied them so tightly that I no longer have any feeling in my hands.” I continued to stare at him, my hands raised between us, trying my best to allow apathy to take over.

My calm seemed to frustrate him, but he finally yanked my hands toward him, snarling as he savagely cut through the fabric.

Looking at my wrists, I was surprised to see that he’d avoided cutting them. I curled and extended my fingers, grateful when the sharp pins and needles sensation pricked at my skin. I continued to shake and flex them, rubbing at my sore and chafed wrists.

“Get on board, Wendolyn,” Huckley said after a few minutes, his tone inviting no more delays.

I looked up at the ladder—slats of wood strung between two ropes. I’d never seen such a thing. It did not look sturdy in the least, but I stood carefully and reached for it, wrapping my still slightly numb hands around the rungs.

It was slow going. It took multiple tries with each step to get a foothold without my dress getting underfoot. The ladder wobbled and shook, made worse by my trembling limbs and the rocking of the ship. The effort it took me to scale the ladder must have been obvious, because Huckley never prodded me or yelled at me to move along.

When at last I wrapped my arm over the railing of the ship and pulled myself over, my strength was spent. I collapsed to the deck, my breath heaving as I reveled in the feel of solid wood below my cheek and hands.

Huckley’s heavy boots hit the deck beside me and I closed my eyes in the vain hope that if I ignored him, he would ignore me.

Instead he latched on to my waist and pulled me to my feet. “Come, let’s get you settled.”

My hands were free and my fury and indignation rose up, preventing acquiescence. I turned and lashed out at him, pounding on his chest and scraping my nails against his neck. “I won’t be another dim star in the sky!”

My attack was short-lived as he quickly gained control of my hands and then pushed me until my lower back hit the railing. The wood dug into my back as he leaned his weight into me, his face contorted in rage hovering so close that I could have counted his pores. He huffed like an agitated horse and I did my best to throw all my anger at him even as the pain in my back begged me to relent.

“If you’re trying to make me end your life early,” he said with a sinister tip of his head. “It won’t work. I take too much satisfaction in a carefully executed plan to ruin it by giving in to a fit of passion.” He yanked me away from the rails and threw me to the ground, but I had no chance to recover before he grabbed my shoulders, dragging me back until I sat against the mainmast. Then he grabbed a piece of rope and tied my hands once more, this time tethering me with my hands above my head, attached to the rigging above.

He squatted down so that he could be at eye level and gave me a smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

I kicked out at him, but he just slammed his hand down on my lower leg to prevent any more movement.

“As I was saying. If you will excuse me, I have a ship to prepare.” He walked away and I struggled against my bonds, but nothing budged. Instead I had to watch as the captain came continually in and out of my view, untying and retying and hoisting on ropes. It was disturbing to see the calm surety that settled on his shoulders as he went about the work.

At one point I thought I heard the murmur of voices as if someone else had climbed aboard, but I never saw anyone else. Huckley must be talking to himself, acting like the deranged madman that he was.

Eventually he appeared again just behind me and I suddenly felt my arms pull free as he cut my bonds. I let out a cry as the blood suddenly surged back into my hands and arms.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” he commented.

This time my furious kick found its target, hitting his knee with as much force as I could manage.