The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,174

Pryce, please? I need to know. Otherwise, I’m left thinking I’m the cause of what’s between them.”

It was a categorical overstatement—she didn’t flatter herself that much—but it was her best ploy. Pryce snorted, whether in disbelief or at the outlandishness of her assumption being unclear. With a bit more prodding, he gave way.

“Not so sure as t’ how it all come to pass. ’Twas afore I was with ’im. It’s my notion the Cap’n was captured early on. Harte had ’im in the brig, a-headin’ for Fort Charles, when somehow or another the Cap’n contrived to escape. Blew the ship’s magazine, and then waved g’bye as he floated away on a hatch grate. Aye, he’s managed to escape the Commodore’s clutches three, mebbe four times.”

Pryce fell into a considering quiet. Cate tried not to stare at the damaged face, but it was blessedly difficult with it squarely before her.

“Harte chased the Cap’n through a storm the likes of which no man worth his three squares woulda dared. Led the entire Royal Fleet square into a royal disaster. They lost three ships, with a Butcher’s Bill longer than could be counted. Meanwhile, the Cap’n was a-ridin’ out the storm in Tortuga, with a bottle o’ rum and a whore on each hip…beggin’ yer pardon, sir,” Pryce added hastily, swiping his hand across his mouth.

“I seen fer my own eyes, when the Cap’n delivered six street whores to the Commodore’s big birthday doin’s, promisin’ a hundred pieces of gold to the first one what could bring ’im off, beggin’ yer pardon again, sir,” he hastened to add again. Even in the poor light, a dark flush could be seen rising from his collar.

“There was the Commodore with his breeches undone and all his glory right for all to see, all six applyin’ every trick they knew!” he said, laughter fizzing through the exposed and broken teeth.

“I can tell ye plain—bore a hand, I did—in causin’ for a hogshead to be delivered to the Commodore’s ship. Just as it swung over, the thing busted open…” Pryce’s shoulders shook, tears of mirth welling in his eyes. “The Cap’n must o’ looked like Saint Patrick o’ the West Indies collectin’ up them snakes. They spilt out on deck…men runnin’ and screamin’, clambering up the mast and jumpin’ ship whether they could swim or no.”

The mirth overtook him. It took several minutes for him to recover sufficiently to continue. “A little piece o’ paper floated down congratulatin’ the Commodore on his genius on riddin’ the ship o’ rats, signed by the Cap’n.”

He paused to check the knife’s edge with his thumb, and then resumed honing.

“I’ll tell ye plain, to my way o’ thinkin,’” he began over the rasp of metal against leather. “The bitter end was when the Cap’n got the Commodore so arsey-farsey, he was a’firin’ on his own ships—sunk one, in the doin’—a-seekin’ to protect a town. Whilst the Commodore and his men were all a-roil, we slipped in, cleaned it out as easy as kiss yer hand, and then cut out the Commodore’s barge.”

“So, Harte blames Nathan for his setbacks?”

Pryce stopped to regard her through a squinted eye. “Ambition is a merciless master and, as black’s the white o’ my eye, Harte is its slave. The Cap’n has managed to break many a rung off Harte’s ladder to success. The good Commodore wuz set on bein’ Admiral-on-High by now, if it weren’t for Cap’n Nathanael Blackthorne.”

“That explains several things,” Cate murmured more to herself. Old rivalries and jealousies were a volatile mix. It went a long way to explain Nathan’s sudden touchiness.

“Could be part o’ the reason how Harte and Creswicke come to be so tight,” he said, looking off across the water. Lamps doused, the Morganse sat like a serene dark mistress awaiting the return of her lover.

“Mutual enemy?”

“In a manner o’ speakin’. Could be the Fates wuz a-bringin’ them together anyways, and the Cap’n just the happy convenience.”

Pryce checked the blade once more, and then experimentally scraped a patch of the several-day stubble on his cheek. Satisfied, he slipped the knife back into its place.

“Or, he’s managed to make two very devoted enemies,” she said, considering.

“Aye.” He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “There be that too. The Cap’n sure and certain has a way about ’im, in that regard.”

It put the kidnapping of Creswicke’s fiancée into a new light, going well beyond lust for money or adventure.

“And then I came along, right in the middle of it,” Cate sighed.

“Y’ll