Eden's Pass (13 page)

It was jarring to hear him refer to the tiny blonde as
Miss
when she, Finn, was not treated with such respect. Of course, that was because Iñigo saw
her
as one of his crew, but it still stuck in her craw.

She yanked on her left boot with more force than was necessary
. Miss Honoria.
Gritting her teeth against the irritation bubbling in her belly, she stomped her left foot to vent some of it. It didn’t help. “And how does she fare?” she asked, unable to keep the bitter edge from her words.

“As well as can be expected.” He closed the armoire and moved over to his desk. “Now, no more questions. You’ve work to do, Finn. I trust you will go to Farruco if your arm troubles you?”

“Of course,” she muttered, stomping her right foot and standing. “Is there anything else?”

“Nay.” He didn’t turn to face her, but waved her off. “You may go.”

She didn’t answer, but slammed the door on his arrogance, marching down the corridor toward the stairs. Her arm was stiff, and
sore
did not even begin to describe how it pained her. However, she set her teeth and vowed she
not
seek out Farruco, even if the limb suddenly dropped right off.

“I suppose I am to be
Miss Honoria’s
cabin boy as well,” she muttered, taking childish delight in stamping as hard as she could on each step, smiling at the shifting dust falling from beneath the stairs. “There will be icicles in hell before I obey an order from an Englishman’s
whore
.”

The more she dwelled upon it, the tighter the knot in her belly twisted. It was as frustrating as it was confusing as to why she even cared. She’d be with the others. She’d be with Ennis again.

That offered little comfort, though, as it was clear
why
she’d be reunited with Ennis. She frowned.
Why
the devil did that trouble her? Why should she care who the good captain chose to warm his bed. It wouldn’t be long before she, Finn, took her leave of the
María
for good.

Of course, what she would do once she left the Spaniard's ship, she had no inkling. But it mattered not, for she would be free and it wouldn’t concern her which woman Iñigo Sebastiano brought to his bed.

She froze as the bright sunbeam hit her in the face. Why did she care about such things? Iñigo was nothing to her except for a master from whom she wished to be free.

“As if I
did
care.” She sniffed, resuming her pace. Juan Pedro was up on the quarterdeck and he looked none too happy. “I’d much rather brain the man than kis—” She cut herself off with a snort, shaking her head.

“You’re late,” Juan Pedro growled by way of greeting. “You will assist Jorge in repairing the mainsail.”

She glanced around, wondering what chore Ennis had been given. “And where is Ennis this morning?”

Juan Pedro shook his head, pointing to where Jorge awaited her on the main deck. “Never you mind, Finn. You’ve work to do.”

Swallowing her sour retort, she turned away from Juan Pedro to stomp back down to the main deck. It was not shaping up to be one of her better days and her mood grew only fouler with each step. By the time she reached Jorge, she offered up no greeting, doing nothing more than grunting at him.

He paid no heed to her bitter mood, but shoved a bone needle at her. She grabbed it, still fuming as she set to work pushing the needle through the thick canvas. A dull ache settled into her fingers after only a few minutes, but she was grateful for the pain. It took her mind off her troubling thoughts, but left her with reason enough to brood.

By noon, her back and shoulders ached as well, and her fingers were bruised to the point of her wincing just thinking about passing the needle through the canvas.

Jorge sighed, setting down his needle, and reached up to rub his neck. “That is all for now. You go and check if Farruco needs any assistance.”

Her mood, which had grown considerably brighter since morning, sank at once. Still, knowing it was pointless to argue, she straightened and arched her back. Her spine cracked and popped. “Of course.”

Without waiting for a response, she marched her way back down below deck. Wincing as her bandages sliced into her skin, she fought the urge to tug at them as she stood outside the closed door to Farruco’s cabin. It made her more than a mite envious, Honoria’s not having to worry about binding herself flat. Of course, she had to admit, she preferred being bound over being passed around as the crew’s plaything, but it did little to ease her dislike of the Englishwoman.

Shame engulfed her as she knocked and Farruco bid her entry. Honoria was the only one remaining in his cabin, as the other men were sent off to their own hammocks to recover. Honoria sat at the surgeon’s desk, a cup of something steaming before her. In the daylight, with her hair and body clean, the girl looked almost pretty.

Finn scowled, clearing her throat. “Juan Pedro sent me down to offer assistance.”

Farruco shook his head, sending a lock of thick black hair over one eye. “Miss Honoria is doing quite well. Tell Captain Sebastiano that she has eaten and will be able to work in but a few more days.”

Finn bobbed her head. “Of course. I will tell him.”

Farruco smiled, gesturing to her wounded arm. “And how do you fare?”

“I am fine,” she replied, backing quickly toward the door. Honoria smiled at her with no little smugness. It was almost as if Honoria knew the truth about the cabin boy, and her smile was one of triumph.

Though it wasn’t possible for Honoria to know, it still left Finn with the puzzling, overwhelming need to be out of Farruco’s cabin. It was silly. Why should a
smile
leave Finn feeling as though she’d taken a blow to her gut?

Her gut kinked as she stepped back out into the corridor. Only one thing came to mind, and it was one Finn did not even wish to consider.

A heavy sigh bubbled to her lips as she sunk back against the wall across from Farruco’s closed door. She would almost think it was jealousy, but that was truly laughable. She cared naught for the Spaniard. He was nothing more than her master. In fact, she should
hope
Honoria caught his attention. If that happened, she would have nothing to worry about. She could focus on escape.

She frowned, absently rubbing her sore arm. In that case, why
wasn’t
she happy?

Chapter Fifteen

“Why so quiet?”

Finn jerked her head up at Ennis's unexpected question, the bowl of beef stew before her ignored. “I hadn’t realized I was so quiet.”

Javier, sitting to her right, let out a chortle as he grabbed a hunk of bread from the bowl in the middle of the long, scarred table. “Aye. Quiet as a—how do you say it?—mouse? What? No stories to share about Captain Beauregard? No tales to tell?”

Tale-sharing was not foremost on her mind. It hadn’t come as a surprise when Iñigo ordered her to go to the forecastle for supper. While excited at the prospect of some free time to spend with the men who were becoming her friends, and Ennis, questions bubbled to her lips about this new change. Still, Iñigo seemed to be in a fine mood, and she had no wish to ruin it. Now, however, she wished she had.

“No stories,” she told Javier, lifting her bent spoon and dipping it into her small, wooden bowl to fish for a hunk of beef. “I was merely his cabin boy.”

Ennis chuckled. “Finn's main duty was makin’ certain Beauregard's rum stores never ran dry. Kept her busy sunup to sundown.”

A roar of laughter rose from the benches and Finn relaxed. In the short time since joining Iñigo’s crew, most of the men accepted her as one of them. There was no need to fear discovery.

“A thankless task, I might add,” she tossed out, lifting a spoonful of thick, salty broth to her lips. Guillermo had outdone himself. Obviously stew was his specialty, as the hunks of vegetables were crisp and the meat was not too stringy. Although the cook did seem to be overly fond of salt, the stew was actually quite tasty.

Alejandro shook his head, almost choking on his mouthful of stew as he chortled, “Captain Sebastiano favors rum, but he by far favors women,” around a mouthful of beef and broth. “Why do you think he sent you down here, with us?” He pointed to her and gestured to the others seated at the table.

She laughed right along with them, but the stew lost a bit of its flavor. Ennis smiled and reached for the bread. Dropping a hunk at her place, he said, “Right then, who is ready to hand over their pieces o’ eight to me this eve?”

Juan Pedro slapped a hand against the battered plank table. “Ah, listen to the young one! Need I remind you, I took all but six of
your
pieces the last time?”

“Only temporarily,” Ennis chuckled. “As tonight I’ll win ’em back.” He turned to her, his blue eyes bright. “What about you, Finn? Joinin’ us?”

She nodded. Games of chance had been one of her preferred pastimes on Barbados. Hopefully, her skills hadn’t abandoned her. “I will.”

It was one of the most enjoyable evenings Finn had ever passed. The rum was rich and dark, and the cigars plentiful, though she’d passed on them. Her refusal earned her an odd look, but Javier said nothing as he turned to offer one to Ennis. She sipped from her tankard as she concentrated on the card game Alejandro struggled to teach her. Though she was proficient at English card games,
Aluette
was one she simply could not grasp, as the rules seemed to change with each hand.

It was well into the night when she and Ennis bid each other a good evening, and she made her way back toward Iñigo's cabin. She hesitated as she drew near. After all, she hadn’t been there to ready him for bed, and though he’d told her to join the others, it didn’t mean he meant for her to be absent the entire evening, either.

Swallowing her nervousness, she grasped the door handle and pushed open the door. Her heart jumped as Iñigo said, “Ah, I wondered if they’d ever let you leave.”

She closed the door behind her, unable to decide whether or not he sounded angry. Deciding it was best to assume he was, she said, “Should I have returned earlier? I’m afraid I lost myself a bit.”

He sat at the table, a book open and a tankard before him. His expression was serene as he shook his head. “There is no need for an apology, Finn. It would serve both you and the others well to spend some leisure time together.”

She stepped closer, wondering if he was well into his cups. He certainly didn’t seem to be anything other than sober, but still… “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Tell me, did they suspect?”

Pride brought an uncontrollable smile to her lips. “Not a whit. In fact, I relieved them of nearly fifty in gold pieces.”

He didn’t reply, but instead lifted his tankard to his lips to take a long drink. Wondering if she’d said something she oughtn’t, she shrugged out of her coat to hang it on one of the hooks near the door. Turning back, it was to see him closing his book. “And what do you plan to do with your winnings?”

Still smiling, she drew the chair opposite him away from the table and sunk down to tug off her boots. She removed her left boot before saying, “I will use it to buy my own ship.”

Looking up to see his reaction, she was hardly surprised to see his amused expression. Tapping an elegant forefinger against the book’s leather cover, he said, “And you think fifty gold pieces is sufficient?”

It wasn’t, but she shrugged anyhow. “It is a beginning. We both know I cannot remain here forever. I needs consider what happens then.”

His smile grew smug and superior. “It is reassuring to see your sense of self-importance has not faded. You still believe you might captain your own vessel?”

Her right boot hit the floor. “I care not if you believe me. I know what I’d bargained for with Beauregard. I know what our arrangement was. I care not if you find it amusing. I
will
own my own ship, even if means remaining hidden as a boy for the rest of my days.”

She wasn’t certain, but it looked as though the captain’s eyes darkened, but for only a moment. He lifted his tankard to her in salute. “I drink to your lofty goal, Finn. Quite impressive, to say the least.”

Her belly kinked and she wanted to slap the smug arrogance from his face. It was far too maddening, the way he patronized her. She rose from her chair, pausing to swipe up her boots before stomping to her hammock. “Mock me all you wish, Captain. You must be mad to think I wish to spend the rest of my days
here
as a cabin boy.”

“And you truly believe yourself capable of commanding an entire crew? As a woman, no less?”

Ignoring him, she reached up to grip the hemp, and hauled herself into the hammock. It creaked as she made herself comfortable, and she settled back, wishing he would put out the light and let her go to sleep. Her arm ached furiously and the rum served to make her incredibly drowsy.

Wood scraped against wood. Leather creaked. Iñigo had risen to his feet. “I asked you if you thought yourself capable.”

It was her turn to smile smugly. “I fooled
you
and your men.”

Iñigo moved to lean up against one of the posts holding her hammock. Crossing his arms over his chest, he replied, “And yet,
I
discovered your secret in mere days.”

Her smugness faded. “Very well. I was a mite careless, I’ll admit. But I can assure you, I’d
not
be as careless on my own ship.”

“Or you could simply choose to remain here.”

His words seemed to surprise him as much as they did her. Keeping her surprise to herself, she simply sniffed again. “To serve as your cabin boy? Surely, you cannot be serious.”

He shook his head. “No. I’d much rather you assume—ah—other duties.”

She jerked toward him, eyes narrowed as she growled, “
What
other duties?”

His right brow lifted only a fraction, but it was enough for heat to fill her face and raise her hackles. “I beg your pardon,
Captain
, but I will
not
serve you in
that
manner. If that is what you desire, seduce Honoria. She looks to be the sort taken with scoundrels.”

Anger flashed through his eyes, but he grinned and chuckled. “Ah, yes. She would probably be a wiser choice. I prefer my women to be just that—women.”

“Go to the devil,” she spat, flinging herself down and holding on for dear life as the hammock sharply swayed, threatening to topple her to the floor.

“A clever comeback, indeed,” he growled, amusement laced through his words. “It might give you something to think about—whether or not you prefer being a boy or a woman.”

Fury bubbled all through her and she struggled to tamp it down. Easing her grip on the slowing hammock, she muttered, “Unless you need me—as a cabin boy that is—I should like to get to sleep.” She screwed her eyes shut, determined to ignore him and his infuriating grin.

“Go to sleep, Finn,” he replied, now actually laughing. Leather creaked as he sat again, and the pages of his book crinkled as he lifted it once more. “Enjoy your feeling of victory, for tomorrow, you return to being a mere cabin boy again.”

Gritting her teeth, she swallowed another scathing retort, instead imagining the day when she no longer served the arrogant Spaniard. A smile lifted her lips as she imagined being at the helm of her own ship, and blasting the
María
to splinters.