The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,232

has you with him. You know it, and I know it, and every damned jack tar on that ship knows it, except Nathan.”

His finger moved to stroke her cheek, the blue look softening. “Now tell me, lovely, what do you want?”

Heart racing like a cornered rabbit, she took a barely-tasted gulp of port, in a futile search for courage. To engage in wild fantasies about what could or might be, was to pick at old wounds and served little purpose.

“What importance is it to you, anyway?” she asked, pulling away from his touch.

Thomas drew a breath to say something, then thought better. Blowing out a tired-sounding sigh, he took a drink. Rolling it in his mouth, he pensively studied the glass.

“Nathan’s a friend,” he began, carefully measuring each word. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had or hope to have. I haven’t seen him in years, but I know I can trust him and I think he trusts me.” He looked up, his eyes darkened with solemn earnestness. “It would do my heart good to see the man have a little dose of happiness. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I could have sworn you were just as taken with him as he is with you.”

Cate stared at her fingers as they twisted the fabric of her skirt. She slid a nervous look from the corner of her eye, deep blue intently meeting hers. She still felt the sting of mortification after Nathan’s cruel taunt the night before. Nathan didn’t want her. It had been made eloquently clear time and again.

Pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, she said, “I don’t know if—”

“God’s teeth,” he exclaimed, rocking back. “You don’t know what you want either?”

Dropping his chin to his chest, he heaved an exasperated gasp. “’Pears as though you two were made for each other. Heaven help you both,” he finished, raising his hands in benediction.

Slapping his thigh, he rose. Emptying his glass in one gulp, he set it on the table with an empathic thump.

“Well, as I said, the bunk is over there. Don’t be shy, but if as you say, you’ve five brothers then you’ll know how a man lives and shan’t be shocked. I’ve the watch, so if you need me, just call out,” he said, waving vaguely toward the open skylight overhead. “Sleep well.”

###

Pryce rolled his eyes starward, while the Cap’n paced the quarterdeck. The Cap’n took an enraged swipe at the darkness, and in the general direction of where the Griselle laid, and demanded for the hundredth time, “What the fucking hell is she doing over there?”

He slammed his hand on the rail and wheeled around. “Did he take her or was this her idea?”

“Don’t rightly know, Cap’n.” Pryce dared to glance about the decks for anyone or anything that might serve as a diversion or distraction, but the hands had scattered like the weak-livered cowards they were.

“What am I supposed to do?” the Cap’n demanded. A rhetorical question, Pryce considered. “I can’t just sail over there and get her.”

“You represented as he was a friend.”

“He is, but what the goddamned, bloody hell does that have to do with it?”

Growling in disgust, the Cap’n jerked an irritated hand and stomped abaft. Pryce slumped with relief leaned against the rail. The reprieve, however, was too short-lived. He inwardly groaned at the sound of the Cap’n’s approach. He knew the sound of that footstep, and the storm and thunder it promised.

“What am I to do?” Oddly, the Cap’n sounded almost desperate.

“Well,” Pryce began delicately. “D’ye trust her?”

“Trust? Her?” Puzzled—as if the word was altogether foreign—the Cap’n paused to consider. “Of course…but, not around him.”

The Cap’n absentmindedly rapped a tattoo on the rail, staring off into the night. “It’s just…I’m not sure she is aware trust is expected…here…now…exactly.”

His troubled scowl deepened. “She wanted to leave—said as much—and I thought I’d steered her clear, what with the way the men felt about her, and all, of course.”

“Of course,” Pryce said circumspectly. His mum raised no fools; he knew better than to argue the finer points of that convolution of the truth.

“’Pears to me yer facing the pirate conundrum: once ye’ve got yer treasure, then what’s to do?” Pryce ventured, once the Cap’n calmed sufficient.

Failing to grasp the point, the Cap’n frowned expectantly.

“Consider, Cap’n. What have we, and every member of the Brethren, spent our lives doin’, eh? Lookin’ for another man’s treasure. Think on it! We search and scrabble, raid, pillage, and plunder, lookin’ for the