The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,143

together.

From outside came cheers, raucous and angry. They quieted just as quickly, while one rang out, defensive and heated: Bullock.

Cate quailed and gasped, the sponge landing in a wet splat at her feet. Drawing a shaky breath—Breathing. Yes, breathing was important—she bent to retrieve it. She straightened to look squarely into the glass above the washstand. A wretched creature stared back, battered and bloodied, features swollen to the point of grotesque. The circular pattern of a bite marked her breast, bright red where the dark rose center met the milky pale.

Another inch, and…

She carved a slow spiral and crumpled to the floor. Curling into a ball, she wished for a shell in which to crawl. If she could make herself small enough, it…she might go away.

Cate felt more than heard Nathan’s hurried approach. Cracking an eye open, she searched the planked floor for a hole into which she could dissolve. There were none.

“I know you don’t fancy—”

Nathan's words died in his throat. Swearing, he set a bottle on the nightstand and snatched the quilt from the bunk as he knelt. He murmured little nothings as he brought her to her feet, discretely snugging the quilt about her as she rose.

“Have to bear an eye on you every minute, don’t I?” Nathan gently chided, as if she were a helpless child. A backward kick sent the discarded clothing to the corner as he guided her to sit on the bed.

Frowning worriedly, he uncorked the bottle and, over Cate's feeble objections, pressed it to her lips, not satisfied until she had taken several sips. The sting of the rum on her lacerated mouth brought tears to her eyes. The liquor burned her raw throat—had she screamed that much?—when she swallowed. It landed in a hot ball in her stomach, sending instant fortifying jolts through her.

Nathan scooped up the sponge, pulled up the stool and sat, the basin now at his feet. He dabbed with the sponge, mopping the blood from Cate's nose and mouth, being particularly cautious of the split lip. She tended to twitch and start at his every move, and so he signaled in advance, extracting one limb, and then another. As he cleansed, the basin’s contents became a brackish pink.

The washing stung, but not as badly as the fact that Nathan couldn’t bring his gaze to meet hers. Several times he tried but failed. His responses to the few times she spoke were curt. He didn’t say as much, but she knew he blamed her for having been so foolish as to fall into such a trap, his ship now in an uproar. Cate wanted to tell him he needn’t be concerned with telling her: she already knew. She stared at the top of his head, listening to him mutter darkly under his breath and slowly came to realize his anger was turned inward. He wasn’t blaming her; he was blaming himself and self-flagellation always wielded the sharpest barbs.

“What happened?” she asked stupidly.

“Nothing.” It was one of Nathan's poorer lies. Still distracted by the shouting outside, Nathan was now markedly calmer. “Justifiable, they said. Bloody too goddamned right,” he huffed, jerking his shoulders. “I’d like to see any of those cod-fisted bastards do any different.”

The increased pitch of voices forced him to raise his at the end. So stirred and angry they were, so reminiscent of the attempted mutiny.

“What’s going on out there?” Cate asked, shying at the increased shouting.

“The Court’s still convened,” said Nathan matter-of-factly, and then shot a loathing look over his shoulder. “This shan’t go unpunished. The sods are lucky all they did was lay hands on you.”

His vehemence came out in his application of the sponge, growing more vigorous by the moment. Seeing her wince, he sat back, idly fondling the sponge.

The near-mob’s shouts pitched another octave higher, snarling at the smell of blood. They were shouted down by Pryce, so that two quavering, defensive voices might be heard.

“Punishment will be brought.” Nathan spoke ostensibly for her benefit, but he seemed to glean considerable satisfaction from it. “And before all. Every man shall bear witness, lest there be a misunderstanding of how it was and to see what will happen to the next one.”

“How…? I mean who decides what…?”

Nathan blinked, surprised by Cate’s ignorance. “A jury’s selected.”

He seized on the small diversion. Considerably calmer now, he resumed washing in easier strokes. “Half of their own choosing, and half not. If they’re found guilty—no time to be wasted there—Pryce can announce punishment or a jury can