The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,32

of fine scars across the backs and knuckles as he passed her cup.

He poured his own, sipped with exaggerated delicacy and nearly gagged. Struggling against the urge to spit it out, he rolled it from side to side in his mouth. He managed a hard swallow at last, his lip curling in disgust.

“Vile stuff,” came out in a half-strangled rasp.

Cate took a sip and closed her eyes in pleasure. These being pirates, something in the “gunpowder” variety had been expected, but this was aromatic and slightly spicy, one never tasted before. Setting down the blue-flowered cup, she looked up to find him staring, round-eyed.

“What?” Hitching the quilt higher, she glanced to see if she was more indecent than thought.

“Your eyes. They changed color.”

“Oh, that,” she said, averting them to the table. “I’ve been told as much before. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. It depends on—”

“No, no, ’tis all well…it’s just…if you might warn a soul. Yesterday they looked like—”

“An idol that cursed you, I think you said.”

“Aye. Now, they’re the color of Gordos Bay.”

She had heard any number of references through her life, most people being at a loss to assign a name to the color, but never anything quite that impassioned.

“Almost green, then,” Blackthorne said pensively. He ducked his head to see once more. “And now, almost blue…but not quite. Odd…indescriptably odd.”

He shook his head, his bells jingling with the movement, and then darted another look to see if they had changed again. Seizing upon the distraction, she cleared her throat, in essence calling the meeting to order. She gave her hair another cursory smoothing. Half-drowned and sleep-mussed, wearing a blood-smeared and torn shift, she knew she must have presented a sorry sight.

“May I ask again, Captain,” she began levelly, “what do you plan to do with me?”

His expression sobered. His features were carefully arranged, a skill at which she was discovering he was very accomplished. “Why were you on the Constancy?”

“I had to leave England, rather quickly,” Cate said after some deliberation. “The Constancy was the first ship away for a price I could afford.”

Blackthorne cocked a suspicious eyebrow. “Wanted to leave or had to leave?”

She pensively chewed the inside of her mouth as she traced the scalloped edge of the saucer. Hours of sleeplessness had provided hours to think. There might be no family willing to pay for her return, but there was another who would, no questions asked. As she was given to understand, Kingston, and hence the authorities, was very near, meaning her sojourn with the pirates could be very brief.

It all depended on the whim of a very pragmatic, yet unsettling pirate.

“Captain, I’ll make it easy for you. You and your men pulled me out of the water and saved my life. The least I can do is return the favor.”

She took a deep breath. She was a captive on a pirate ship. What could be worse? Revealing herself, however, didn’t come easy. After years of secretiveness, false names, lies, and being suspicious of every person met, confession to a stranger was now necessary, one known for treachery in pursuit of a prize. And yet, it was that very trait upon which she depended.

“There is a price on my head. None so large as the ransom of a commissioner’s daughter,” she conceded, smiling briefly, “but His Majesty’s authorities will pay at least enough for rum to last you and your men for several days.”

One brow twitched, but Blackthorne’s face remained carefully impassive. “What...?” He stopped to clear his throat. “What could you possibly have done to draw such attention from His Royalness?”

“Ever heard of Bonnie Prince Charlie?” Cate watched him carefully from under her brows for his first reaction. For many Englishmen, it was a very sensitive issue, raw feelings often very near the surface. If he was one who fiercely resented Charles Stuart’s campaign, her future could be very bleak.

His face screwed in confusion. “Certainly. Who hasn’t? What the bloody hell has a Catholic upstart seeking to overthrow the Crown, whose only outcome was the destruction of every fool crazed enough to follow, have to do with anything?”

“My husband and I were two of those crazed fools,” she said without rancor. “Reluctantly, but that’s another story. Brian, my husband, was an officer in the Stuart army. Since I always rode with him, I was considered to be ‘aiding and abetting the enemy.’” She chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. “At one point, there were even handbills for my arrest.”

He absent-mindedly scratched his