anchors, clear the bay, cross the Straits and settle to lie in wait while there was still enough light. Even in Arabic, there was no mistaking the bawl of her boatswain and his mates, urging the men to their tasks.
Cate bore a hand with packing stores and loading boats. In between, she sat on a storm-cut ledge of sand, blotting the sweat from her face. Nathan and Thomas stood at the water’s edge, arms crossed, intermittently interrupting their conversation to bark orders. Aided by the breeze, they were near enough that she could hear them detailing their attack plan, spoken in a tongue known only to mariners. It was a fascination how two men could communicate so much with so few words. A nod, a grunt, a shrug, a lift of two fingers, not to be confused with that of three, and volumes were spoken.
Business complete, Nathan dropped cross-legged in the sand next to her.
“We’ll hold off until the last boat. I thought you might desire to remain ashore as long as possible.”
“Firm ground has felt wonderful.” Cate leaned to add in a lower voice, “But hot water felt even better.”
Nathan ducked his head, grinning shyly. “’Tis pleasing to hear.”
“You think the ship will pass so soon?”
He surveyed the offing with a one-eyed squint. “Aye. A premonition, but a strong one.”
“Then what?”
He pursed his lips and counted off on his long, ring-laden fingers: “Deliver the ransom note, arrangement for an exchange and hide the hostage until said exchange.”
Cate winced at the word “hostage.” She had been—and for all that matter, could still be—a hostage. It was an uncomfortable word, with connotations she was disinclined to explore.
“Will Creswicke pay?” The mere mention of the man’s name gave her a sense of creeping evil.
“Oh, aye,” Nathan said with emphatic satisfaction. His arms came to rest his on bent knees. “He’ll pay, if for no other than the simple reason he can’t bear the thought of telling anyone she was taken, let alone taken by me.”
“What will he do then? I mean, after he’s gotten her back?”
His chuckle was heavily tinged with anticipation. “Everything in his power to catch us…catch me, that is.”
Nathan shook his head and smiled crookedly. “I pity anyone around him for the next while. He’s going to be insufferably insufferable. And he’ll do everything in his power to wreak his revenge.”
“On you?”
“Who else?” He spread his arms in a prideful display, more like a boy bragging on toppling the neighbor’s privy.
“You don’t like each other, do you?”
“Not much,” Nathan said indifferently. “One does have to admire a dedicated enemy.”
“Thomas told me some of it,” Cate said carefully, worried of possibly breaking a confidence.
Nathan twisted around. One brow arched in derision “He did, now? Rotting ol’ looby never could keep a stopper on his gob. Not as smart as he thinks his is, however.”
She waited. The lilt in his voice suggested there was indeed far more.
“There’s more?” she eventually prompted.
He squirmed, leaning away. “’Tis nothing. Trifles. Inconsequential indiscretions.”
“Apparently not, at least in Creswicke’s mind.” Cate inclined her head into his line of sight. “What did you do, Nathan?”
He twitched, fingers drumming a tattoo on his leg.
“Nathan, what happened?”
He shifted on his rear. Clearing his throat, he gave a wobbling smile. “Well…I might…just possibly,” he clarified, holding up a cautionary finger, “may have…” His voice faded; his throat moving as he gulped. “I may have bedded his mother,” he finally blurted.
Her mouth fell unbecomingly open. “What?” Cate cried with a force that caused several of the men to turn and look.
“How was I supposed to know?” he said, sounding even more like that privy-tipping schoolboy.
Stricken speechless, her mouth moved like a fish for air. “The name would have been a hint.”
“All I knew was Lady Arthur, or Anthony, or one of those ‘A’ names. Bloody royals and their pompous falderal!”
For all his amatory escapades—which were legion, to be sure—this one seemed particularly insidious, perhaps due only to the severity of its consequences. She had never thought of him capable of being that scheming and insensitive. Inconsequential, indeed.
“Nathan, how could you?”
“Allow me to point out, in me own defense, that she never said. I had no idea who she was, so it didn’t count, not really. There is something to be said about the older ones,” he sighed wistfully.
“Apparently it counted to Creswicke. No wonder he was so angry. Obviously he found out. Did he catch you?”
“Not that time.”
“There’s more?” Her jaws were beginning to ache.
“Very well, if you must.” Nathan heaved