Bound by Decency (30 page)

a

R
est. Of all the absurd things.
India
could no more rest after that disarming kiss than she could lift the cargo in the hold. Nevertheless, she humored Cain with a nod. As he exited the room, she stretched out on the bed.

What the devil had come over him? One moment he was there, kissing her, an equal participant to the heavenly desire that burned between them. The next, he shut down like someone threw frigid water on his head.

He could be the most confounding man. Just when she thought she understood him, he changed something so that she
must
keep guessing. Keep digging. Layer after layer—it seemed there was no limit to how deep he ran.

She kicked a restless leg out and heaved a sigh.

He’d liked her plan. Most of it, at least. That much she could take pride in—for once a man didn’t pat her on the head and dismiss her ideas. Cain listened with interest. He discussed and offered insight, unlike Richard and her father. He’d even offered praise, although that came with the gleam in his eyes not the precise words. But she’d come to understand that Cain’s emotions reflected in his gaze.

She could accept his hasty retreat, knowing she’d pleased him. If she could please Cain, and quite possibly Drake, perhaps she could make an impression on Nightshade as well. Enough of one he’d excuse her presence and forego his penchant for death.

Three of
T
he Flying Gang—could she mingle with
worse
company?

Yes, she hurried to answer before the fates could conspire. Royce could join them. Then she’d be surrounded by the full quartet. And the four of them together wasn’t something she ever wanted to witness. Perhaps from a distance, but never,
never,
aboard the same ship.

351

Bound By Decency

29

B
ored with the quiet,
India
left the cabin. Quite some time ago, dawn lifted the heavy shadows and muted the lantern light. They had not slowed as far as she could tell, and judging from the relative silence on the decks, she doubted they were close to their intended destination. She’d ask Cain the cause of the delay, for this inevitable confrontation with Nightshade had begun to eat a hole in her stomach.

She ventured down the narrow corridor onto the main deck and reconsidered her assumptions. Where she had expected to find the crew working at their usual posts, she found them gathered on the starboard rail, hands lifted to shield the sun from their eyes and staring at a nearby land mass. Perhaps they were not delayed at all.

The silence, however, unnerved her. Hushed murmurs replaced strong voices. No lively chants rang out to keep their chores in cadence. They moved at a turtle’s pace, much like
The Kraken
herself.

Turning a slow circle,
India
scanned the tops of the men’s heads for Cain and found him on the quarterdeck, beside Drake, brass spyglasses lifted in both men’s hands. Taking her cues from the quiet that surrounded her, she held in her greeting and grasped the nearby stair rail. Two steps into her climb, Cain reached out a hand.

She accepted his offered aid with a smile. He helped her up the rest of the way, then returned to his task of looking at the shoreline.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“Searching for signs of Alex. Smoke, a fire pit, a scrap of color that doesn’t belong.”

India
cocked an eyebrow. “You cannot just call out?

“We could,” he answered with a chuckle. “But if there are any villains there, we’d have to take them on as well. Or perhaps invite a round of pistols.” He gave her a little smile, a knowing smile full of intimate words he wouldn’t say in front of Drake. “Did you rest?”

With a shake of her head, she glanced up at the narrow poop deck, observing the helm stood unattended. “No one steers us?”

Cain shot a look of reproach at Drake, who acknowledged it with a mutter. “It seems,” Cain answered slowly, “in his haste to leave the harbor, Drake left King behind. His mate put in a watch and rests. Stormy is in his bunk. Occupied.”

India
tried to hold in her grin, but it twitched at the corners of her mouth. Cain gave her a devilish wink. Shared secrets—nothing more could define them as lovers.

Uncustomary warmth filtered through her blood. There was something grand about keeping confidences with a man. Especially confidences that involved the glorious way their bodies fit together.

“Would you like to give it a try?”

Absorbed by her thoughts, Cain’s question caught her off guard. She blinked. “Give what a try?”

He nodded at the great spoked wheel that turned the rudder. “The helm.”

She nearly jumped for joy. If Drake hadn’t been standing there, the scowl on his face as dark as thunderheads, she might have. Trying to keep the excitement from bleeding into her voice, she answered, “I’d love to.”

“Up you go then. I believe Drake can get along by himself for a bit.” Cain took her hand and urged her onto the narrow stair.

India
scrambled up to the poop deck, feeling very much like a child on Christmas morn. Steer
The Kraken
. For one short moment in time she would be in utter control of the
breathtaking ship. She, a woman,
who two months ago
,
couldn’t tolerate the rocking motion of the sea.

She turned to Cain, unable to hide her eagerness. “What do I do?”

Sidling up behind her, he caught her hands and placed them on the spokes, near the position of the eleven and one on the face of a clock. His fingers lingered against the backs of her hands before he slid them away and tucked his chin into her shoulder. His breath warmed the side of her neck. “Just steer. Sight down the bowsprit. Keep her aimed where she’s pointed.”

Rising to her toes, she squinted down the line of his arm. Alas, she couldn’t see. With a dejected sigh, she sank to her heels and shook her head. “I’m not tall enough.”

“Here.” The warmth of his body fled as he backed away. He kicked an empty crate close. Bending to turn it upside down so the solid slats faced the sky, he grinned up at her. “Step up.”

She put one tentative foot on the crate. When it held, she added the other. A good two feet taller now, she looked where he had pointed, and much to her delight, could see beyond the thick forecastle wastecloths.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

He stepped in close, enveloping her with his presence. The tops of his thighs touched the back of hers. His chest brushed her shoulder blades. And his arms, those strong, powerful arms, came around her to set his hands on the spokes beneath hers. “If she wiggles”
—
he gave the wheel a quick jerk side to side
—
“just hold her steady. She’ll pull on your arms, but the current here is gentle. She won’t fight you overmuch.”

India
nodded. She rolled her shoulders and relaxed her arms, marveling at the strange, surreal power that emanated off the wood in her palms. As if she could, if she so desired, control the very water they floated on. Such a difference it was, this holding the wheel, compared to standing on the deck and doing menial chores.

She lost track of time as they inched along the coast. Cain remained behind her, gently correcting if she deviated too far from the desired course. He supplied random facts about sailing—how the wind affected the bow depending on whether they sailed into it or with it, the workings of the rudder far beneath the hull. More frequently than not, however, he remained silent, content to let her guide them, keen to her fascination with the duty.

From this vantage, even the waves looked different. Crisper. Clearer. She caught sight of another whale, a small colony of dolphins, and a multitude of fish whose silver bellies glinted in the sunlight when they leapt out of the water. To her left, sandy beaches, whiter than even the
Dover
cliffs, stretched out endlessly. Dense green foliage rose beyond the alabaster dunes, full of the songs of birds and other unseen creatures. All around, the gentle lap and lull of the water filled her ears.

“This is lovely,” she murmured, twisting her head to look at Cain.

“It is.”

“I could become used to this. The sea, the excitement, the freedom here.” She held his gaze, her expression softening. More quietly she added, “You.”

Cain nuzzled her cheek, his eyes full of warm affection.
India
looked away, admiring her surroundings once again.

Heaven. She looked upon it as certainly as she felt the sturdy wood beneath her hands. No wonder the ocean possessed Cain’s heart. To die here, even at the bloody hands of pirates or by the Navy’s guns, would leave one standing before the eternal gates of paradise. How could a man chain himself to land when he had tasted this?

How can I?

The question rose unbidden and unwelcome. Yet though she tried to push it into a dark hole where it would lay forgotten, it refused to back down. Returning to
England
would be as dismal as being forced to spend the rest of her life in a cave, never to see the sun. The sun, salt, and wind had become part of her. Cain as well.

The idea of having to part ways with him created a similar pain to the agony she’d felt at Slater’s hands. Still, a woman couldn’t live a life at sea. She could travel, journey across the ocean to distant lands, but the freedoms
India
had know
n
these last few months she’d never experience again. Pirates might make an exception and allow a woman aboard now and then, but even they, with their lawless ways, wouldn’t abide by women underfoot indefinitely.

“Ho there! Bring her in!”

Drake’s deafening bellow ripped
India
from the wayward path of her longings. She jumped to attention, as did every other man in sight. The decks came to life, puppets controlled by an unseen master who had just returned to the strings.

“Better allow me.” Cain gently nudged her aside.

India
surrendered the helm unwillingly. She leaned against the rail and watched as he gave the wheel a hard counter-clockwise turn. The muscles in his arms bulged as he cranked round and round, the tight lines on his face disclosed the effort. With a short, harsh huff, he braced his weight against the spokes and held it tight.

Slowly the bowsprit came around to align the ship on a direct course for the shore. Cain backed off the wheel, guiding it until it met resistance and no longer spun with ease. Assuming a one-handed grip, he used his free arm to wipe sweat from his brow.

“You’re sailing her straight at the shore?”

“Aye, we’ll run her up until her bottom touches sand. Then we’ll drop anchor
,
and Drake will row ashore.”

As if Cain’s answer had given Drake a cue, Drake bounded down from the quarterdeck to disappear within the sea of sailors spread out across the main. He reappeared near the forecastle and hauled on the ropes that secured the dinghy. Someone passed Drake a pistol, then a second. He stuffed both into the leather belt at his waist and gestured for another man to give over his sword.

“Good heavens, Cain, what’s he doing?”

“Alex is…shall we say…temperamental. Bound to be in a murderous rage about losing
Triton’s Jewel.
”

India
recoiled. “Enough to attack us?”

“Not us. Drake.” Low laughter rumbled in his throat. “You see, in Alex’s mind, Drake is likely at fault for this. They were sailing together when they learned about my predicament. Drake left
Triton’s Jewel
to arrange my escape.”

She was missing something. Some piece of information that put the gaps together and explained why two perfectly capable captains were both sailing together, and how either one of them could blame the other for their predicaments. But Cain urged her back to the wheel before she could question him further.

“I’ll return shortly.” He moved toward the stairs.

“Wait. Do you even
see
Alex out there?”

As he descended, Cain answered, “Red shirt. Black pants. Near the trees.”

India
scanned the shore but couldn’t make out anything red, let alone anything that looked remotely human.
The Kraken
encountered friction on her hull, slowing her forward motion. To
India
’s surprise, the ship eased to a stop, only the very tip of her bow lodged in the submersed sands. The dinghy hit the water with a splash. Drake and four others poured over the side. With nothing left to do for the immediate moment,
India
released the helm and moved to the rail, squinting into the trees once more.

This time, her target gave himself away. A shot rang out, and grey smoke clouded around a
maroon
shirt, not red. Standing beside a clump of tall flowers nearly the same color, Alex blended in naturally.

God in heaven, Alex was worse than
India
had imagined. Firing at his friends, the very same friends who sought to aid him—he was as crazy as the post described. She shuddered, dreading all the more having to meet this notorious killer.

Two more shots peppered the air in rapid fire. The men in the dinghy ducked. Someone swore. On the decks, however, laughter rumbled.

In a manner of supreme idiocy, Drake stood up in the rowboat. His voice carried across the short distance. “Marooned you be, marooned says me! What fun to be marooned with ye!”

India
choked on her own saliva. If her ears weren’t deceiving her, amusement filled Drake’s voice as well. She’d have sworn he possessed sense. And nothing about this matter was remotely humorous. For heaven’s sake, he could lose his head!

Alex stepped forward, abandoning his place of concealment amongst the foliage. Long black hair dangled loose all the way down to his waist. He brandished still smoking pistols in both hands. “Rot ye, Drake! I’ve no use fer ye! Take yer sorry arse away an’ leave me be, I say.”
He fired another shot that pinged into the water near the dinghy’s starboard side.

India
’s eyes widened like saucers. Saint’s toes! She must be hearing things. That was no sea-brined sailor’s voice. She leaned over the rail to get a better look.

Alex sloshed into the water, approaching the dinghy, as Drake, who’d jumped over the edge, waded toward the shore.

India
’s jaw dropped on a silent gasp.

Bloody hell, Nightshade was a woman!