Catalina's fine upbringing had steered her every choice in life away from altercations of all sorts; usually there were men around to take care of the unmentionable things outside of her realm -- men paid by Daddy. Catalina looked wildly from her left to her right, hoping to catch sight of Daddy's men rushing to her aid.
The only thing she saw was a cloud of flaming debris that filled the air as another cannon blew apart some of the mast. Those bloody heathens were destroying Daddy's ship!
Catalina heard the terrible sounds of battle wash over her: the blasts of gunfire, the crash of the cannons, the shrill ringing of swords that clashed for control of the small ship. But most importantly, and sounds that would be ingrained into Catalina's memories for all time, she heard the screams of men dying. It was almost as if their last breaths took away hers as well. It was all too clear to the young heiress that there would be no men to rescue her.
She was on her own.
Prisoner aboard a pirate vessel was an image that also took the air from her lungs. How many weeks -- or months -- would she be trapped, adrift, until her father's men could track her down and pay the inevitable ransom? Or better yet, rescue her and set the brigand ship ablaze to watch it sink to the bottom of the ocean? A shudder coursed through her skin as she reckoned what those filthy bastards would do to her in the meantime.
"Unhand me," she tried to yell but fear had constricted her vocal cords to a whisper. She could smell this beastly man's slimy sweat on her cheek and in her hair. She wanted to cry but was unable to find the tears. Instead she stomped her heeled shoe down into the pirate's instep, making him yelp and flinch enough to give Catalina the instant for which she'd been waiting. She threw herself from the blue-eyed man's grasp and dashed along the wet and smoking topside deck, away from him.
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