His screams rend through the silence of the deck as I cut him; he will never dream of taking a woman by force, or otherwise, again. In the distance, the sound of someone retching blends with the waves as I continue my work. Erik’s huge arms hold Crewes upright when he passes out.
I stand when I am finished, fresh blood joining the stains on my white breasts and arms. Some of the men have turned away, pale at witnessing my brutality, but many of the fresh-faced boys bow their heads to me as I walk to the rail and throw Crewes’ bloody cock and balls into the sea.
The men who helped Crewes on his errand against me are aghast, still held tightly by their fellow sailors. When my gaze returns to the Captain, our eyes lock. His emerald stare sparkles with savage pride and his lips turn up in a vicious grin — his approval at my choice of punishment evident to everyone on deck.
Then, he turns to Erik and commands, “Cut their hands off since they dared to touch my property. Then throw their bodies into the waves. If anyone has an issue with this sentence, they can join them.”
Erik says nothing, just gives a curt nod of acknowledgment before pulling a small axe from where it was tucked at his lower back.
Lennox strides to my side and scoops me back into his arms, carrying me toward his cabin. The pleading of the two men combines with Crewes’ moans as he bleeds out on the deck until the great cabin’s door closes, blocking out the sounds of death.
* * *
The trembling begins before I can mask my distress. I had tucked myself against the Captain’s chest as he carried me to his cabin, but I manage to push away from him and stand on my own before crouching and emptying my stomach on the beautiful rug under my feet. The violence I’ve experienced — and that which I’ve inflicted — in the past hour, is more than I can process as I kneel on the floor next to my vomit.
A knock at the door sounds behind me as I stare at my bloodied hands. I vaguely hear the Captain’s voice, quiet and soothing, tell the visitor, “Thank you, I will send for you if she needs anything else,” before sending them away and closing the door again.
He sits something down on the table with a clink, and then his boots appear in my peripheral vision, but I remain motionless on the floor.
“There is hot water to wash with, Andromeda. Lyra has brought you a change of clothes. Do you require privacy, or may I assist you?”
For the first time, the Captain’s voice is soft. There is no hint of the growl he uses with his crew, or the teasing tone of the cad from our dinners and at the brothel. My own words are lost to me though, and after several moments without a response, he turns to leave. Before he takes a full step, my hand shoots out, almost of its own volition, to grab his boot.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Do not thank me. It should not have happened. You warned me about Crewes, and I didn’t take care of it soon enough,” he replies, disgust coloring his words. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I repeat quietly. “For stopping him before he could…for letting me have my vengeance. He wasn’t wrong; it wouldn’t have been anything that hasn’t been done before, but…thank you.”
Lennox crouches next to me and places his hand under my chin, raising it so I meet his eyes. His touch is gentle on my bruised skin. His lashes appear damp, but surely this man cannot feel sadness for my plight.
“No one should ever touch you without your permission, whether it has been done before or not. No one on this ship will touch you unless you ask them to, Andromeda. You have my word.”
“What about you?” I ask, my voice wary.
“Including me,” he assures me, releasing my chin. He stands and makes his way toward the door. “I will be on deck should you need me. I’ll leave the water and clothing for you. Take as long as you need.”
“Lennox.” I stop him before he can reach the door.
I don’t know why, but I want him to stay. Despite the stories and the missing girls, despite the reason I am on this ship in the first place, he feels safe, and I don’t want to be alone.
“Please, help me.”
His body tenses at my words, but he returns to my side and extends his hand to help me stand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet, making sure I am steady before releasing his grip.
He removes his blood-stained coat, laying it over a chair, then rolls his sleeves up to his elbows before turning to me. My heart flutters as he pulls a sharp knife from his boot, uncertain as to its purpose. Since the majority of my bodice is ripped, he delicately inserts the knife under the fabric and cuts the remainder from my body, dropping the ruined garment to the floor.
Even though I stand before him in the nude, I feel no fear. He walks me to the table where a bucket of warmed fresh water is waiting and instructs me to sit on a towel that’s laid across one of the chairs. Then, he wets the washcloth and gently washes the blood from my chin, breasts, and arms.
Gathering the shift Lyra brought for me, he pulls it over my head before removing the pins that remain in my hair. A tremble runs through me as he stands behind me and carefully begins to comb my hair. When he runs his fingers through the thick locks, I realize it has been years since someone cared for me like this. Has touched me with kindness, with no expectations. The tears I have held a tight grip on slip down my cheeks while he continues to smooth the knots from my hair, and I try to remain silent and hide the shaking of my body with each sob that escapes.
Lennox doesn’t mention my tears when he finishes with his ministrations, but he does pour a liberal glass of brandy from the decanter on his desk for me, offering it along with a linen handkerchief. The warm liquid is a balm to my nerves, and I finally allow myself to relax fully.
When my eyes meet his, there is no hiding the way he clutches the edge of the table, nor the color high in his sculpted cheeks. He clenches his strong jaw, and there is a look in his eyes I cannot name. Something almost akin to fear. Although, perhaps fear is the correct emotion for a man to feel next to a woman that just mutilated someone on the deck of his ship.
“Would you like to rest?” He asks as I finish the glass of liquor.
My adrenaline has fully worn off, and I am hollow and exhausted. My lip is swollen and my cheek feels bruised from Crewes’ blows. I would like nothing more than to curl up in a feather bed and sleep, but I don’t want to return to the small cabin with Lyra and face the questions she will inevitably have waiting for me.