Cassie rushed down the dim companionway, her body reeling with the heeling yacht. She saw the stairs that led to the deck and felt a sob of defeat rise in her mouth. The hatch was securely battened down. It would take precious time to wield the iron fastenings. She heard him cursing behind her, heard his booted feet drawing nearer, and she stumbled up the wooden steps, moaning aloud when they caught in the hem of her dressing gown. She thrust the stiletto between her clenched teeth and jerked frantically at the heavy handles. She could hear his agonized breathing before the handles gave way.
She shoved upward with all her remaining strength. The heavy wooden panels flew outward and she was blinded by a torrential blanket of rain. She saw bloated mountains of water crashing over the deck, with force enough to wash her overboard. She jerked herself to her feet and threw herself forward on her stomach on the swirling deck. And then she couldn’t move. His hand clutched her dressing gown, pulling her backward. She kicked wildly at his arm, but he held fast. He was facing death now. He could not let her escape.
She tried to wrench her arms free of the sleeves, but the force of the wind and the water pounded at her. She felt his fingers digging into the back of her legs as he pulled himself through the hatch, using her body as an anchor.
She felt herself strangling on her own fear. The sharp edge of the stiletto cut the corner of her mouth. She had forgotten the stiletto.
She grasped it in her hand, savoring the feel of it, and rolled over onto her back. He was above her, his disfigured face inhuman, like a creature from the blackest pit of hell. The wind whipped the rain across the gash, and blood welled out, splattering her face and breasts.
There was only hatred in his eyes. He made a gurgling sound, and his hands, curved like claws, flew to her throat. As he fell forward, she locked her fists between her breasts, the point of the stiletto upward. She felt it tear through the flesh of his neck.
For an endless instant, he stiffened above her, his dark eyes filled with surprise. Blood spurted from his mouth and throat, and her scream momentarily pierced the howling wind. She pushed at him, and his inert body rolled sideways over the slippery deck. A wave broke over the railing and dragged him further away from her. His foot caught on a coil of rope as he was pulled back, and he flipped like a stuffed doll onto his back.
She screamed again and closed her eyes against the sight of him, bloodied and limp, the silver handle of the dagger gleaming brightly as it rose upward from his pinioned neck.
Her cries were swallowed by the raging wind and rain until Dilson, agilely making his way aft, slewed his head about at the thin wailing sound. He scrambled down, clutching at the open hatch doors to keep his balance, and peered into Cassie’s rain-blurred face.
He sucked in his breath in consternation. Her dressing gown was ripped open and her body shone white, save for rivulets of red that streaked over her face and breasts. He tore off his canvas cloak and covered her.
“Dilson, fetch the captain.”
Her voice was a low whisper, dulled with shock. He saw Luigi. “Oh my gawd.” He flew toward the quarterdeck, yelling even before the captain could possibly hear him.
The earl whirled about at his shouts. He passed the helm to Mr. Donnetti and stared at the white-faced Dilson.
“My God, man,” he shouted over the wind, “what the devil has happened?”
“The madonna,” Dilson croaked. “Quickly, captain, quickly!”
He froze for an instant, and then lunged after Dilson.
Dilson yelled back at him. “She killed him, captain. Stuck a dagger in his throat.”
“What the hell are you saying, man?”
Dilson pointed to Cassie, who lay stretched naked upon her back, the canvas cloak blown off her body, her legs dangling into the open hatch. There were rivulets of blood streaking over her white skin. He fell to his knees and gathered her into his arms.