dressed, groomed, and broke our fast in the dining hall. All the while, I pressed them for answers and was only met with irritating smiles.
I’d learned early on that the meals at Ashley’s manor were unhurried, leisurely affairs. Servants drifted around the table, setting out silver platters of cured bacon and kipper, boiled eggs, kidney offal, blackberry flummery with whipped syllabub, and scores of produce from the manor’s gardens.
As the kitchen maids answered to the demands of the dining table, they stole heated glances at Priest. He’d mentioned that the staff had been employed here for most of their lives. Now that I knew he’d been employed here with them, I could only assume that he’d bedded every maid at least once over the past twenty years.
I couldn’t care a whit. He was mine now. I had his loyalty, and it seemed that he had theirs.
“You trust them.” I nodded at the door as it closed behind the last kitchen maid.
“Unquestionably,” Priest said. “They know what I am. But before I was a pirate, I was their friend. Their kin. Still am. No amount of reward will turn their allegiance.”
“They’ve known about Priest’s relationship with me since it began.” Ashley leaned back in the chair. “They would defend us with their lives.”
Relief descended, and more questions bubbled up. “When you captured me, you truly didn’t know about my relationship with Priest?”
“No.” Ashley released a slow breath. “I had no idea. When you fell into my custody, it was pure coincidence. Or fate.”
As I finished the remainder of my meal, he talked through his change of heart over those first couple of weeks. Yes, he’d initially hunted me with every intention to turn me in and further his career. But he’d agonized over the idea every day. By the time he’d taken me into the wardroom and shown me the sketch of Priest, he’d already decided. He’d only wanted to track down Priest for help in staging a believable escape for me.
Once I had all my answers, he read from a newspaper, catching up on the day’s news, while holding a tedious conversation with Priest about his business in London. Given my huffing and their twitching mouths, I knew they were deliberately dragging out the anticipation for my surprise.
Eventually, Ashley stood and held out his hand to me. “Shall we?”
They took me to my ship.
The manor sat high on the cliffs, overlooking the private bay. Rather than navigating the rocky paths to the shore below, Priest and Ashley led me through a maze of winding stairs and tunnels beneath the estate. The glow of a torch led the way. At the lowest level, an exterior door opened to a dock and a waiting jolly boat.
And across the bay sat Jade in all her glory.
The shadows of her soaring masts fell across the nearby cliff, her yards clewed as she patiently waited to weigh.
She was a fighter. A survivor. She’d faced off against a warship with twice her weight in guns. When my father had seized her, she was the only galleon in the Spanish treasure fleet that hadn’t sunk in the hurricane. She was spitting fire and laughing at the storm, he’d said.
As Priest and Ashley rowed me toward her mighty stern, I couldn’t stop staring at her sleek lines and winking gun ports, admiring, smiling. Despite myself, I felt a shimmering surge of pride.
My crewmates greeted me with revelry. Cheers, whistles, and rib-crushing hugs carried me across the upper deck. Amid the fray of merriment, I lost sight of Priest and Ashley. The sailors swarmed me with smiles, the air leaden with sweat, brine, and sunshine, as they pulled me through the throng, spinning me this way and that.
A huge pair of hands caught my face, and hard wet lips smacked hard against mine. When I leaned away, Reynold’s glittering brown eyes smiled back.
“Your brother will kill you for that.” I laughed.
“And I shall die a happy man.” He gripped my arms and held them out. “Pray, Captain, look at you!”
I wore a blue gown that clewed up at the hips, exposing the striped seaman’s trousers and black boots beneath. The corset accentuated curves and musculature that hadn’t rounded my frame a month ago.
The jade stone dangled from my throat. A brace of knives hung about my waist, along with my compass and cutlass. I hadn’t fully regained the strength required to wield such a weighty weapon. But my father’s blade belonged there, on my hip, close at hand.