The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,203

feet, Pryce’s skepticism grew. “Don't rightly know, sir. Never met ’im afore, m’self.”

Cate studied the First Mate. By the set of his brow and line of his mouth, his mother-hen tendency toward anything that might pose a threat to his precious flock was in full alert. Her thoughts were broken by another burst of laughter.

“Well, at least it sounds friendly,” she said.

“Aye, friendly it ’tis.” Pryce waggled his heavy eyebrows, and whispered from the corner of his mouth, “I’d be a-steerin’ a canny course and bear a weather eye, if ‘twere me.”

She approached as advised. The two men were leaned back against puncheons or bags in their patch of shade, a bottle of rum at their respective sides.

“You're the one who said we could make it across the street without the guards seeing us,” the visitor cried, fizzing with humor.

Nathan pointed an accusing finger. “Aye, well, how was I to know that whore of yours was going to scream her bloody head off?”

“She wasn't my whore; you paid for her. She just fancied me.”

They broke into another peal of laughter, the stranger wiping his eye on his sleeve. Their merriment was infectious, Cate smiled without knowing why.

“’ello, luv!” Nathan called in a slightly slurred voice. His face lit at seeing her. He enthusiastically waved her closer. “I’d like you to meet an old friend—“

“Watch who you’re calling old,” growled the visitor congenially.

“An old friend,” Nathan repeated. “This is Thomas.”

Thomas’s head casually turned and he lurched upright. A pair of lake blue eyes raked her and he executed a bow from the sand.

“Well, well, Nathan, you old shellback. You never told me you had anything like this aboard.”

“Easy, mate,” Nathan warned good-naturedly. “Darling, this is Thomas, captain of yon Griselle.” He waved a misguided hand over his shoulder.

Cate bobbed a reserved curtsey. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain Thomas.”

“Just Thomas will answer.” Leaning heavily on one arm, he openly appraised her. “Very nice, Nathan. Very nice, indeed, although you always did have the luck with the women. Always gave me the leftovers,” he said to her with a conspiratorial wink.

Nathan cleared his throat sharply. “Come and join us, luv.” He hooked a bucket with his foot, dragged it nearer, and invitingly patted the top.

She could feel Thomas’ eyes following her as she passed, but was still startled when he reached out to seize her by the hand.

“And what might your name be, lovely?” he crooned, pulling her closer.

“Cate.” Nathan uttered it with sufficient sharpness to break Thomas’s stare. “Cate Harper.”

It was notable that Thomas might have been a friend, but not so much for Nathan to trust him with her real name.

“Charmed,” Thomas murmured. He pressed her knuckles to his lips, lingering far longer than would have been proper in most circles. His grasp was strong but gentle as he rolled her fingers between his. “I'll be looking forward to getting to know you so very much better.”

As politely as could be managed, she extracted her hand from his grip “You said you would come get us when it was safe,” she said hissed at Nathan as she sat.

Nathan batted his lashes in overt innocence. The bruising now faded to a purplish blue looked like kohl around his eyes. “Did I? Bloody insensible, that. Although, it might be said no woman is safe with Thomas about.”

Punctuated by a shift of the eyes, the comment carried an undercurrent of tension. Ducking her head, she looked up from under her brows to find Nathan, smile gone, one eye narrowed, watching Thomas watching her.

“Pray tell, how did you two come to know each other?” she asked, hoping to break the awkwardness.

Nathan smiled at that. “Thomas and I were mates years ago. About fifteen, were we not?”

“You were. You've always been the older one.”

“Not by that much!” Nathan said, puffed in mock indignation. “But, in addition, I also happened to be the wiser.”

“Aye, we were on the Gryphon—“

“No, no, ’twas the Nautilus first, then the Gryphon,” Nathan corrected.

They laughed knowingly, a private joke. Cate sensed it wasn’t a prudent time to inquire further.

Cate watched the two men for the next while, her brothers frequently coming to mind. As they recounted one escapade after another, they ricocheted from something akin to a competition, of who could weave the biggest lie about the other, to mellowed mutual admiration and lauding praises. On rarer moments, they sobered as reminisced about shared hardships and lost friends.

More cautiously, she watched Thomas. She had tried to imagine what Nathan’s friends might