The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,290

I would’ve killed the son of a bitch ahead of time, had I known.”

“It’s all right,” she said, mechanically. It seemed almost laughable to kill someone for what they might do.

Cate reached for the gourd with a quivering hand to take another drink. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no sorrow for a man’s beastliness. Put your mind to now you’ll be safe. No better protection than a dead suitor,” Nathan said bitterly. “I’ll represent you were the one to kill him, if you like. No better insurance, aye?”

Fuzzy as Cate might have been, it still seemed severely wrong to take advantage of a man’s death. Yet, from the moment she had been knocked to the ground, she wanted nothing more than for the bastard to be dead, and had taken cold satisfaction at seeing him prostrate in the leaves.

“Tell them what you will,” she said shakily. Weariness struck her like another punch from her assailant.

There was a protracted silence. Thomas churned back and forth in the wavering margins of the firelight.

So much like Brian.

Eloquent with fury, Thomas snatched at his pistol, and then his sword, driven by the need for action. Finally, he picked something from the ground and hurtled it into the night. Swearing, he did so several times more, and then resumed steaming back and forth.

“Dammit to goddamned fucking hell! I knew this would happen,” Thomas extolled to the night sky. He spun around to stab an accusing finger at the two of them. “This wasn’t the first, was it?”

Nathan looked to the ground. “No,” Cate finally said.

Thomas swore in something like Germanic. He stalled to glare down at Nathan. “And it will happen again.”

Nathan looked briefly up into the voice of doom. Not unlike herself, Cate could see him mentally calculating the odds of that very thing. Twice in less than a month she had been attacked, and twice he had been obliged to kill, four other men dying in conjunction with the first attack. A man had died just now, only because she had needed to pee. She scanned the throng of men scattered down the beach, rendered faceless by distance and darkness, and wondered how many more she had doomed to their deaths when she had agreed to remain on the Morganse. How many more would Nathan be obliged to kill? Only a few hours ago, he had said something about the price he had been paying since her arrival. How much longer, before he said “Enough?”

Thomas looked to her, the blue eyes gone to steel. “By the gods, I will do it,” he said with the same vehemence as earlier that day. Then he rose abruptly and disappeared into the night.

“You can yell at me now, if you like.” Cate spoke in the spirit of precipitating the berating she knew was to come. How could he not blame her?

Fondling the gourd, which she still couldn’t manage, Nathan looked up from under the dark dashes of brows and snorted. “Would it help? Would it make any difference? Which would you prefer to hear: what the hell were you doing; silly woman; why don’t you do as I say? Which one?”

“How about ‘This was your fault?’”

The corner of Nathan's mouth tucked up grimly. The firelight glinted on copper hairs in the plush of his beard as he looked to the ground.

“No, not that one. ’Tis another I’m saving that for.”

“You?” Cate looked down at the crown of his hat. There was no room to place any more blame. Nathan had taken it all and was thoroughly flogging himself.

“Do you see another? You aimed to be away from all this, and I—” he said.

“I said I wanted to stay,” she said levelly. “It’s not your fault.”

She winced inwardly. It was so unfortunate that the most sincere sentiments come out as hollow-sounding platitudes. And yet, in many cases, there was wretchedly little else which wouldn’t sound equally false.

Thomas appeared again, considerably more composed. He squatted next to Nathan and peered up at her. “You gonna be all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” It had been dubious earlier, but now she was coming around to actually believing it.

Thomas quizzically looked to Nathan, who shrugged in deference and said, “A gentleman never argues with a lady.”

Thomas rose, leaving Cate and Nathan alone once more.

“Don’t tell Prudence,” she said.

Nathan made a face. “Why?”

“There’s no call to alarm her.”

He made a sarcastic noise. “Bloody high time she learned what the world is about.”

“Not this. Not yet.”

Nathan carefully searched Cate's face. His eye twitched, perceiving much and opting

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