two rows, one a hair’s breadth above the other. In the candlelight, it was difficult to see, but she was sure a blush rose from his collar.
“You have a chipped tooth, just there,” he said, tapping a gold one of his in illustration.
“Could use some soap,” she said, looking away. Soap, at least the kind not made with lye and ash, and didn’t burn the skin, was a rare and expensive commodity.
“Sorry, luv. ’Tis a pirate ship.”
Cate smiled wryly. “No mind. It’s been years since I’ve owned any. Here, push.”
She directed his hand to the bit of cloth over the wound. He did so, shakily but gamely, while she set to washing his face and neck. More damage was revealed. Many of his knuckles were sliced and scraped. A razor-like line of blood marked his neck, a wider one across his wrist. She felt a slight queasiness. Had any of those been a bit deeper, and it would have been his fingers, arm, or head lying on the deck.
She was struck with a shocking wave of relief. Nathan was barely more than an acquaintance; it was inexplicable that his welfare would be such a concern. He had wormed his way into her heart already.
Charmer.
He brought the word a whole new meaning.
Veering from a path of thought she didn’t want to take, she asked, “When you told Pryce to burn the flag, he said ‘He’ll take it personal.’”
Nathan was quiet for so long, she thought he might not answer. Glancing down, she found him staring off with a remote expression. She had thought it a safe question, but his personal boundaries were elusive. Having stumbled upon several of those limits that day, it was clear Blackthorne possessed more than average.
“R-W-I-M-C.” He spoke each letter with firm distinction. “Royal West Indies Mercantile Company. You have heard of it?”
“Only mention and none of it flattering.”
“Justifiably so, darling.” His lips pressed into a firm line. “TheNightingale was a privateer, a licensed hunter to dispatch anyone who might be ‘inconvenient’ to the Company.”
“That’s nothing more than a hired assassin.”
Nathan smiled grimly. “That would be in the eyes of the one holding the gun. A privateer doesn’t have the balls to rob on his own; he needs someone to cover his ass by paying his way, promising to hold his hand when he fails. If he succeeds, he wraps death and destruction up in a tidy package with a bow, and calls his murder and thieving ‘for the greater good.’ Pirates are the only ones honest enough to call it what it is and die in the process, to the dismay of no one.”
“And the ‘he’ would be…”
“The current lord-on-high in these waters, one Lord Breaston Creswicke,” he said, posing as pompously as could be while lying in bed with one hand pressed to his head.
Cate twitched at the name.
“You’re familiar with him?” Nathan asked, sharply.
“Only in name. Pryce was probably correct: he won’t appreciate his flag being burned, would he?”
Nathan puffed with the satisfaction of a task achieved. “Nay. I can only hope it’s the first thing he sees when the Nightingale finally makes port.”
“Why didn’t you sink it, if you detest him so much?”
He shifted, suddenly restless and defensive. “Have to have been a bit daft to give them quarter, didn’t I? By rights, I should have taken them all hostage, strip them of everything, including their dignity, and send that wreck to the depths. That’s what any good pirate would have done. But then, why not send that pitiful mess back, let him see he’ll have to do better than that to take the Ciara Morganse, allow those men report how the Morganse raked their decks with musket fire, until no one had the courage to take the wheel, and then, let them wonder what lengths it will require the next time?
He snorted in disgust, looking a bit silly with an arm up over his head. “Sir Spineless Simmons hauled his wind at the second volley, tucked his tail and ran, leaving his consort to take the brunt. With some able handling and a bit o’ backbone, they could have had us.
“Full broadside was how the Nightingale wanted it, even in the face of our sixteens to his twelves. We had the size advantage too; we ran close so as to keep him from firing up into our rigging, while we had free run at his. Musket fire finished off what was left; a rain of hell with sixty firing at will.”
He paused