“And thrusting blades at devilishly good-looking rogues.” Charles arched a brow at me.
I winged up mine in return. “Careful, Mr. Vane. One might think you enjoyed it.”
“She makes a point, Charles.” My father’s voice grew quiet. A deep, bone-chilling kind of quiet. “Around my daughter, your eyes are for decoration only. If you use them on her, I’ll carve them out and feed them to the gulls.”
Charles looked away with a grimace. “I’ll head back to the ship and give you some privacy.”
“Good plan. Return for me at dusk.”
The bothersome yet curiously droll quartermaster ambled toward the south side of the inlet. When he vanished beyond the outcrop, presumably where the jolly boat waited, I turned back to my father.
He stared out at the sea, his eyes a turbulent aqua green. The line of his jaw was so unyielding I could’ve sharpened a blade on it.
“You’re angry with the countess,” I said.
“Rightfully so.” He scraped a hand through the thick tousle of his red hair. “She’s stubbornly ambitious, stubbornly independent, stubbornly beautiful…” He blew out a breath. “Just flat-out stubborn.”
“If I stay here, her stubbornness will send me to England.”
“Don’t concern yourself with that.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll deal with her.” He paced toward the woods and picked up a fallen branch from the ground. “Your skill with the cutlass needs work.”
He tested the weight of the stick and tossed it away to grab another.
With my thoughts still whirling around his plan with the countess, I wasn’t prepared for his attack.
He lunged, wielding the stick like a sword, and swept my feet out from under me. I landed on my backside and rolled, all flailing limbs, tangled skirts, and curse words. He swung again, and I dodged, flinging myself toward the cutlass.
With the hilt in my grip, I rose into a strike. He blocked. I slashed, and for the next hour, his training distracted me from stolen horses and betrothed marriages.
As the fire-orange sun hauled itself across the sky, sweat pooled beneath my stays, and the wind blew knots of curls across my face. I clawed the wild tresses out of my eyes until my tangles had tangles.
My father went through multiple sticks, each one hacked away by the blade of the cutlass.
“You’ve been practicing.” He dropped another broken branch and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Only with wood.” I gestured at the chopped twigs around his boots. “If I had my own cutlass…”
“I would give you my finest blade, lass.” He tapped my nose. “But Abigail would discover it.”
“How are you going to deal with her?”
A strange expression creased his face, and he looked away. “What I have planned for her isn’t proper for your ears.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Would you like to hear about my latest prize?”
“Yes!” I bounced on my toes and dropped the cutlass. “Was there a battle?”
“Many battles.” He laced his fingers through mine and led me to the shade of the woods.
Lowering to the ground, he gathered me on his lap and told me every heart-pounding detail of his attacks on the king’s warship, a French brigantine, and numerous merchantiers.
“Then, two months ago, I encountered a Spanish treasure fleet. Twelve ships in total.” His eyes lost focus. “We were outgunned and would’ve never attempted something so dangerous, but there was a deadly storm on the horizon. We waited in safe waters for the tempest to take its toll. Then we moved in, attacking the battered ships and claiming their salvage.”
“They fought back?”
“The storm did. I thought it had passed, but a surge unlike any I’ve seen followed in its wake. I lost my ship.” At my gasp, he pinched my chin and smiled. “I seized a new ship that night.”
“You did?”
“Aye. A Spanish galleon. She was neither broken nor sinking like the others in the surge.” His expression glowed with veneration. “She was spitting fire and laughing at the storm.”
He explained how he rallied his surviving crew and boarded the fifty-gun galleon, even as his own ship was swallowed by the king tide.
I committed the particulars of his ambush to memory, hoping one day I might have a need for such knowledge and become half the wise, courageous captain that he was.
“What did you name her?” I asked.
“Jade.” His gaze lowered to my necklace. “She’s a beauty, she is. When I saw her, I knew I had to take her. For you.”
“For me?”
“She’s yours, Bennett. I’ll captain her until you’re old enough to decide.”
“Oh, Father!” My heart burst from my chest and soared with savage joy.