Paradise Island Read Online Free PDF Page B

murderer you are.”
    His gaze solidified and his outward display of raw energy receded. The crackling tension in the tiny brig mellowed. He tilted his chin back so that he looked at her with a downward slant from the bottom of his eye. The corner of his mouth lifted as he regarded her. The panther had become a fox.
    He raised his hands. The heavy chains clinked. He flicked the edges of his shirt. “Do you keep all your prisoners in rags?” His voice was deep and soft and rumbled gently in waves around her.
    Estelle’s gaze swept to his bare chest. She had forgotten about ruining his shirt when she had taken him from his ship. It was torn open from the neck to the tails. His chest was an expanse of deeply tanned skin, bronzed to a healthy sheen with the golden rays of the sun. A sleek line was formed between the hard planes of toned muscle down the center of his chest. His torso was rippled with defined facets that made his skin a smooth layer over the hard, leanness beneath. His stomach was tight and flat and tapered into the line of his breeches. A swirling sensation rolled in her abdomen and fluttered upwards, constricting her chest as her gaze dropped lower.
    Grazes laced his skin from where he had been caught on the edge of the pier. They looked red and sore, and her heart tripped in a flurry of rapid beats. “I will have some fresh clothes sent to you if I have your word you will not assault any more of my crew.”
    A sleek raven brow lifted and he treated her to an ironic stare. “
Your
crew?”
    There were clambering footsteps coming down the wooden stairs. Claire set foot on the last rung, and instead of joining them on the floor, bent down sideways with a look of terrified horror on her face.
    Her fine silver hair flew in silky wisps around her face and her delicate eyes were wide with fear. Estelle knew at once she felt
The Terror
, saw it written in the shining depth of her eyes and the tense line of she shoulders. She was pale and her face shone with a thin layer of perspiration. This was as bad as Estelle had ever seen her. Claire held a tight fist to her stomach, winced, and bent double in pain.
    â€œClaire!” Estelle cried, and in two steps had covered the distance from the brig to the stairs. She held onto Claire’s thin shoulders with both hands and helped her to sit on one of the steps. “What is it?”
    Claire’s face was awash with despair. She shook her head and her watery blue gaze faltered to Gregory before slipping back to Estelle. “I … don’t know. It’s terrible. I can feel many people displaced, screaming, disoriented.” Her face screwed into a tight ball and she let out a forlorn sob.
    â€œWhat is wrong with her?” Gregory asked. Estelle ignored him.
    â€œThere’s no time, Estelle. It’s coming fast and it’s nearly here. It’s bad,” Claire whispered. “Estelle. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”
    â€œWe will be prepared,” Estelle said. “Get topside. Wait for me there.”
    Claire nodded and went back out through the door.
    â€œEstelle!” Gregory called.
    She spun about. “Don’t call me that.” She climbed the steps after Claire.
    â€œWhat do I call you?”
    Estelle ducked her head down below the line of the roof so that she could see Gregory. “You can call me Captain,” she said and stepped onto the deck.
    She quickly went to Claire, who sat on the steps leading to the poop deck. Dalia was at her side, an olive-skinned hand resting on her shoulders. She glanced at the crew. They were quietly going about their business, throwing nervous glances at Claire. They knew of her talent, and knew to respect it. Estelle sat on a step so that she could speak quietly with Claire. “What exactly do you feel, Claire?”
    Claire looked as though she was lost in a nightmare. Her brow was deeply furrowed. Her sleek, faintly silver