The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,18

wrong place,” Chin said in stilted English. The admission of having been done for by a woman didn’t come easily. The glare he directed at her suggested he desired the favor to be returned.

Blackthorne knelt next to Chin and clapped him on the shoulder. “Word has it someone thought you a fish and sought to dice you up for supper. Appears to be a tough one what needs throwing back, eh, mates?”

The pirates laughed, the tension lifted. The change in Blackthorne was so remarkable she had to look again to make sure it was the same man. Like an actor shifting roles, he was suddenly amiable, even caring. Judging by the surrounding faces, this version was a familiar one.

Blackthorne gently pried open Chin’s grasp to inspect the wound. A surge of guilt struck Cate at seeing the gash through the rent in Chin’s breeches. Longer than one’s hand, it ran diagonally across the fat of his thigh, the blood welling to a steady flow once the pressure was removed. Pryce’s analysis had been accurate: with the edges curling back, a wound such as that would only fester, eventually costing him his leg.

Blackthorne clucked his tongue as one would scold a child. “’Tis going to have to be sewn.”

Sweat beading on his shaven head, Chin clamped his hand back in place and bit his lip against the pain. “All respect, sir, I can’t bear thought of stitch, especially by any o’ you.”

Blackthorne took the rebuke in stride. “You’ve seen Pryce and Kirkland both mend many a man.”

“Aye, many fester and die—lucky ones, at least. So, Crooks?” Chin directed his question to a man who stood against the bulkhead, his partly empty sleeve knotted off just below the elbow.

“Can’t say ’twere Pryce’s fault entirely,” Crooks said, laconically.

Blackthorne fixed a minatory eye on her. A drama was being played out in which she was expected to take part, but how, she couldn’t tell. Chin’s reluctance seemed to be feeding Blackthorne’s irritation with her. Judging by the intent and worried looks, Chin was held in high regard by all. The sense of brotherhood was striking, no different than among the Highland clans.

Wiping hands suddenly gone sweaty on her shift, she looked from one grizzled face to the next. Bearded and sun-beaten to evenness, they could have all been of one family. In full daylight, they had been a barbarous and menacing lot. Now, clustered in the cramped and dim space, they were even more intimidating. The sight of Chin set the cut on her breast to sting anew. It was either play along with the drama, or face Blackthorne’s wrath.

Cate glanced judiciously at Chin’s leg, not without sympathy. “You can try binding it, but you know that won’t answer, don’t you?”

The pat of blood dripping on the boards marked the seconds as she held Chin’s gaze. His defiance faltered, his lids lowering. They snapped open, only to close once more.

“Bleeding like that for another hour or two,” Cate said, “you’ll be half out of it, probably verging on delirium. By then, weakened by all the blood lost—”

“Right she is!” Pryce cried. “I ain’t never seen a gash what benefitted with the waitin.’”

Pryce’s declaration was endorsed by encouraging murmurs from all around. From behind Chin’s back, Pryce moued at having to agree with her. She looked to Blackthorne for some sign of having done right, but he was too intent on Chin to notice.

“What man would pass up the chance for a lady’s hand on his leg and not have to pay first?” Blackthorne winked, prompting a lewd chuckle from the rest. “Hell, I’ll throw in all the rum you can swallow.”

Chin’s increasing struggle to keep his eyes open gave credence to her prophesy. Through a haze of pain, he regarded her with cold suspicion, trust apparently a scarce commodity among the pirates.

“I’ll warn ye, Cap’n,” Chin said at last. “That could be a fair bit.”

“I’ve a quid in me pocket what says you can’t make a pottle,” said Blackthorne as he rose to his feet.

Catching their captain’s spirit, the men made their wagers, bringing forth coppers, shillings, shares of grog, and other tokens of value. Blackthorne turned and clapped a hand on Cate’s shoulder. To the idle observer, it would have seemed a genial gesture, but he squeezed the soft muscle until she winced.

“A life for a life ’tis our motto, so have a care,” he said, low-voiced in her ear. “And hark ye well: there are no secrets on a ship, so I

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024