Passenger (Passenger #1) - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,48

up and down the ropes like spiders sharing a web, but none had gone this high—high enough that she couldn’t make out the man’s face. He was a pale blur against a quilt of stars. It was dizzying just to look at him.

“Is he going to be able to get down?” Etta asked, and realized that she was clutching his arm. He went absolutely still at the same moment she did, inhaling softly. The wool was rough against her fingertips, and the sensation lingered even after she let go and stepped back.

“He’ll be fine,” Nicholas said gently. “Most of us have been climbing the rigging since we were boys. The wind’s picking up, so Marsden is reefing the sails—reducing their size to keep the ship stable.”

She nodded, fiddling with the edge of her sleeves, trying to ease some of the tightness there. He’d said it so casually, the way Etta might tell someone she used to climb trees in Central Park.

Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest again, turning his face into the breeze, his eyes shut.

“I really hate that I ruined dinner,” she said quietly. “But I’m never going to be sorry about what I did. He was out of line and wrong.”

His lips twitched. “Alas, that meal was doomed from the moment they laid out the plates. And rest assured, you are among company that deals in considerable physical violence. A good effort is always appreciated.”

“I’ve never slapped anyone before,” she admitted.

“How did you find the experience?”

“It would have been more satisfying if he’d gone flying out of his seat like I imagined,” she said. “I wanted to do it the whole night, but…I’m worried that what I did is going to cause more problems for you.”

Nicholas looked at her in what Etta thought might be utter amazement. Too late, it hit her that this also wasn’t something a young woman in this time would say.

She rushed on, explaining, “He was trying so hard to bait you. I don’t know what the next level of that is, but whatever it is, I’m worried he’ll find another way of taking it out on you.”

“Well, he certainly won’t be taking it out on you,” Nicholas said, his voice harsh. “Not if he values his skin. I’d take entirely too much pleasure from personally stripping it with the cat-o’-nine-tails.”

The violence in the words was a promise.

“Are you sure you can’t just…maroon him on a remote island with a bottle of rum?” Etta asked, only half kidding. “Make him walk the plank straight into a shark’s mouth?”

“Maroon him? Walk the plank?” To her surprise, he actually laughed. It felt like a reward to hear it. “Why, Miss Spencer, I believe there’s a pirate’s heart in you. I wish Captain Hall had stayed, if only so he could have told you some of his stories over dinner.”

“Too bad,” she agreed, relieved that a small bit of the tension had finally eased. “Do you know any good ones?”

“I’m not as good in the telling as he is,” Nicholas said. “Perhaps you’d be interested in hearing the charming tale of pirates who disemboweled and cut out the heart of a British officer, soaked it in spirits, and ate it?”

Her jaw dropped. “Spirits? As in, alcohol? Was that supposed to make it taste better?”

“I’d imagine few things could improve the experience,” he said. “But anything is possible with enough rum and courage, I suppose.”

This exchange was so beyond the stilted, polite dinner conversation that it felt almost like a trap. Etta remembered Sophia’s warnings, but it was such a relief to talk to someone who wasn’t trying to outthink her, or lord information over her. She relaxed her hold on the railing and laughed.

“How do you stand it?” she heard herself ask.

He turned to her, brows raised. “I’m not sure I know what you’re asking.”

“The rules…” She crossed her arms over her chest, letting the rise and fall of the ship anchor her to the moment. A part of her knew this was a dangerous train of thought to bring up with him, but another part of her, the one still a little clouded from the wine, didn’t seem to care. “There are so many of them, aren’t there? Rules on what we are and aren’t allowed to talk about. Where we can talk. There’s probably even a rule that says we’re not supposed to be talking without someone else here, isn’t there?”

“Believe me, pirate, we’ve already traveled so far past what’s deemed appropriate that I’m