I was forgotten. Don’t change the subject, Pryce. You don’t like me.”
“Not sayin’ as ’tis disagreeable. It’s just…well…There be eyes that color on a statue in Vera Cruz.”
Cate turned her head to hide a smile. “Yes, I believe Nathan—the Captain that is, mentioned as much.” Indeed, Nathan had, her first day aboard, vowing she meant to curse him.
“I don’t mean to reproach you, but why?” she went on. “Did I say or do to put you off? And the Captain, for that matter. Sometimes he stares at me like I’m a two-headed kitten.”
Pryce waffled, making up his mind, changing it, again and again. Cate was on the verge of letting him off the hook upon which he squirmed, when he finally burst out: “With all due respect, sir, to tell ye plain: you look like her.”
“Her?” she echoed dumbly.
“And in more ways than one might bear, in a manner o’ speakin,’” he said in his West Country rumble.
Cate felt a cold, sinking sensation that she didn’t care to put a name to. She braced against the weight of impending doom. Several bricks were about to fall into place in her construction of Nathanael Blackthorne: he was either married or had an eternal love somewhere.
“So, who is…her?” she asked in grave dread.
Wife? Sweetheart? Which would be worse?
“He hasn’t told you? Nay, I s’pose not. He’s disinclined toward the tellin,’” Pryce said, staring down into his drink. The grey eyes swiveled up at her and sharpened. “Ye’ve seen the Cap’n with his shirt off?”
It was posed more assumption than question.
“Umm…nooo…no, I haven’t.”
Cate’s cheeks flamed. Having to admit Nathan hadn’t found her attractive enough didn’t come easily. As the days had turned to weeks, she had flirted with thoughts of something blooming between her and Nathan. The charming smile, flashing eyes, and engaging ways were not wasted. At times, he didn’t seem to realize their effect. But then at times, it was clear he knew exactly, and applied them with purpose.
In many circles, Nathan would have been considered the consummate gentleman. He never bowed, rose from a chair, nor tipped his hat. He discreetly excused himself, or conveniently avoided the cabin altogether, when he thought it necessary. That didn’t rule out the ribald remarks and colorful turn of phrase, but that was just Nathan being Nathan. Slowly, however, the cold realization had settled in: he wasn’t interested in her. There were no overtures, not even the slightest insinuation or the most fleeting of dalliances. Nothing.
Cate felt like a stone among the diamonds. So many women had gone before—his conquests were legend—but why not her? She had longed to ask why, but in the grand scheme of things, what difference did it make? If it was because her voice was too deep, her eyes too green, if she was too tall, her bottom too round or not round enough, or if she was too dull-witted? Which would she rather hear? Which one would ease her best through the nights of lying in that same bunk, staring and wondering?
“Aye, well…” Pryce’s destroyed mouth compressed in disapproval, clearly thinking her to be either lying or had deemed his captain unsuitable. Either was an affront to his sense of honor.
“All rotated around a woman. What else?” What little light was left caught the spark in his eye of a storyteller settling in. “Cap’n met up with one. A beauty, she were, in her own way,” he was quick to qualify.
Pryce regarded her more narrowly. “As I represented, ye put me in mind o’ her…tall, well, mebbe not quite so much,” he said with a second look. “She had a go-to-hell way o’ lookin’ at ye—square in the eye, she did—and not a by-yer-leave in ’er. She was a pirate at heart; took to it like a fish t’ water. Get her blood riled and she could be ruthless as any man, moreso. Could pass fer one too, given a big hat, that is. Not as strong as a man and that vexed her considerable. Got herself into trouble on that score more than the once.”
A faint smile came some an unspoken thought. He shook it away before going on.
“As it chances, Hattie had ’er own ship. At first, she and the Cap’n sailed in consort, scourge of the Caribbean. Hell, the whole world was at their disposal,” he said with an enthusiastic swipe of his hand. “Then her ship took a ball to the magazine. Blew ’er to smitherines, but Hattie lived to tell of it. By