blame the hound for howling. She could see them on the Valor—easily, for they were the only ones clothed—and their familiar faces, the ones she lived among, the ones she laughed with and mended their bodies, now taunting the defenseless and naked Valors. The bitter taste of revulsion rose in her mouth at seeing the injured and dead had been stripped. The sight called to mind the aftermath of several battlefields. The scavengers picked through the bodies, going so far as to cut off fingers for rings and bashing out teeth for the gold.
And so, regret for what? At what point do you think you could have caused a different outcome?
“What a cold-hearted bitch you’ve become,” Cate said under her breath.
Too late, my dear. That happened the day Brian left.
There had been no massacre, nor atrocities here, and there well could have been after such a gross deception. She was no neophyte; she knew what was done in the heat of battle, in war or when fighting for one’s life. And fighting for their lives was exactly what the pirates were doing; their blood smeared her apron and crusted her nails. If anything, the pirates had been the ones to fight by the rules.
It was kill or be killed…wasn’t it?
The glass grew slippery. She wiped her palms and peered again.
Still no Nathan.
Cate choked down the fear that tightened her throat at thought of him lying somewhere, that it was his blood draining to the sea.
She cursed Nathan for this damned feud of his. In a moment of honesty, she knew what troubled her: all of this destruction was because of it. This drive to best Harte and Creswicke went far beyond anything she had witnessed, including the Highlander clan wars, which could span generations over a mere patch of land.
Nathan’s was a blood vengeance, to be sure. Over what would probably never be hers to know.
“Tut, tut. Ogling, are we? What would your mother say?”
Cate spun around to find Nathan standing behind her, grinning, still flushed with the exultancy of battle. Blood spattered his sleeves and he had a scrape on his chest, but he was whole…blessedly whole. Her heart warmed at the sight of him. She was caught between throwing her arms around his neck with joy and giving him a piece of her mind.
“Where did you…? How did…?” she cried. Then anger won out. “Damn you, you bastard. How dare you go running off like that. You could have been shot…or killed…or…” Her mouth moved like a fish gasping for for air as she searched for words.
Nathan shook his head, jangling his bells, and flipped a braid. “Charmed.”
This exchange was made while he spun her about and patted her down, seeking to assure that she was well. He held up the side of her skirt to exhibit a hole, much like that which might have been made by a musket ball. The corner of his mouth tucked up and he gave her a paternal glare. His displeasure at her failure to find safety deepened at finding another.
“What happened?” she asked, interrupting the berating that was in the offing.
Nathan shrugged and dabbed the sweat from the side of his face. “Everything and nothing. Opened fire on our heads, the dung-souled maggot. Sharks what had been following the ship got those what fell in the water.” A bit shaken at that recollection, a disgusted noise related the pursuant carnage.
“I can’t believe they fired on you, not after a white flag.”
“Pirate.” Under his mustache, his mouth took a grim curve. “Nothing so low should reap the benefits of anything so gentlemanly.”
“But you…”
He waved her away. “We did no different than every pirate from Bartholomew to Teach: took every shred of clothing. Clothes, tarpaulins, blankets, right down to the hammocks, the table napkins and the cook’s apron: we took anything and everything what could be possibly shifted to cover one’s ass.”
Nathan looked judiciously to the Valor’s shattered rigging. “’Course the sails remain, but that Number One duck will be blessedly rough on one’s bum.”
Cate recalled seeing the boats being loaded. “But you—?”
“Burned every stitch.” He proudly rocked on his heels. “Allowing the men their pick, of course.”
“Of course,” she muttered to herself.
“Unlike the aforementioned sea rogues, we left them a boat, dinghy, truth be told. They shan’t die of hunger or thirst, although sunburn will be a definite hazard,” he said, curbing a smile.
“Won’t they wash that off?”
Nathan looked with little remorse at the haloed skull and wings that had been painted