Oceanswept (24 page)

“
O
oh,” I cringed at the sound of the metal snipping. “Not too much.”

“I have to make it even,” Nicholas
said.

The scissors snapped again.

After a solid twenty hours of sleep, a hot bath, and a full meal, it was time to cut my hair.

I smoothed my hand down the back of my head, feeling where my hair stopped short halfway down my neck.

“I told you to keep your hands away,” Nicholas reprimanded impatiently.

I sullenly clasped my hands in my lap.

Though Black had hacked away most of my hair, some long strands had remained. Not now. I could see them curled gently on the floor beside my bed. I sighed at the sight.

“Maybe we should have gone to a barber,” I lamented for the hundredth time.

“Come on, Tessa. I’m a carpenter. This is easy.” His ability to saw lumber and hammer nails did not put me at ease in the slightest. “Besides, how would you get to a barber anyway?”

My legs
spread out before me like lumpy tree trunks. My right leg was massive with splints and bandages meant to hold my fractured bones stable. My left leg was in better shape, but my ankle had been turned. It, too, was thick with bandages.

We extended our stay at the inn, resting and healing. Aside from a few mild burns, Nicholas was fine. On the other hand, I was completely incapacitated. The collapsed ceiling had crushed my legs and bruised my ribs. It had also sliced open my scalp—an injury I had forgotten until this very moment when Nicholas accidentally scraped it with a comb.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered quickly when I winced. He lifted my hair aside for a better look and fingered the gash tenderly.

“What did you find out earlier?”

Nicholas stiffened at my question, letting his hands fall from my head.

“Anything?” I prompted when he didn’t answer.

While I was bathing with a maid’s assistance earlier, Nicholas went for food and information. He hadn’t reported his news yet.

He breathed heavily, then returned to cutting my hair. “The ashes have cooled and now they are going through the rubble.”

I could tell from his tone that he wasn’t telling me everything.

“What else?”

“They asked me what happened. I told them it was a brawl over a girl. That things got rough and we knocked over the candles on the altar.”

Although that was true enough, Nicholas was holding back.

I awkwardly repositioned myself so I could look at him. “You are not telling me everything.”

His
lips pressed into a thin line and he stared intently at my hair. He was avoiding me. I stared harder at him. Finally, he met my eyes.

“They only found two bodies.”

“Mendoza and Black,” I confirmed.

“Tessa, there should have been three bodies.”

I furrowed my brow, confused for a moment. Then I remembered. There
should
have
been three—Mendoza, Black, and the man playing cards with Mendoza.

“Two men met you in the church?” I had not thought of it before because I assumed that Black would want to take on Nicholas independently.

He nodded once, so slightly I barely noticed it.

“Which two bodies did they find?”

“Can’t say. They were charred beyond recognition.”

“You told me you wounded Black. You said you stabbed him and knocked him down before you pulled me free. So the other man must have escaped while you were fighting.”

“I hope you are right.” He was grim.

After a moment of replaying the night in my mind, I asked, “How did you know Mendoza?”

“We knew each other once.”

“He had a particular hatred for you. Why?”

Nicholas breathed heavily. He was debating if he should tell me. “He was quartermaster on the
Banshee
. I actually considered him a mentor of sorts. Rumors began that he was ready to defect. He’d fallen in love with a woman. He’d been sending his gold to her. He was a good leader. Valuable. I didn’t want him to go. I convinced a few men to find this woman and steal the gold. If Mendoza’s money disappeared, he’d have to stay on to earn more. We found her, and things went wrong. She was killed. And she was pregnant with his child. Mendoza blamed me. Tried to kill me. Probably would have if I hadn’t cut off his fingers. When Black learned of it, he burned Mendoza’s contract, gave him a handful of my gold, and dropped him in port.”

I swallowed hard. Nicholas, the pirate. Not a misfit. Not a lost little boy.
A stomach for killing
, Black had said.

I saw Nicholas differently now. He took pleasure in killing. It was his craft. If I were smart, I would sever ties with him. But I knew I never would. I loved him. Knowing that I could so easily dismiss his darkness made me acknowledge my own. 

“What about you? Did Black punish you?”

“I was locked in the brig for three days. Then, Black promoted me. Said I showed initiative without fear. That’s how I became quartermaster.”

Nicholas stared at me with his steely eyes, trying to read my response. I held his gaze, unwilling to let him see the emotions churning in my mind.

He expected me to say something. Gasp in horror or show disgust. At least reprimand him. Confused by my emotions, I sidestepped the conversation. “It seems odd that he was working with Black. Didn’t he hate Black as much as you?”

“Perhaps the opportunity to exact revenge on me was enough for him to form a truce.”

“But they are both dead now—Mendoza and Black. Do you have to worry about the third man? Does he have some kind of vendetta against you?”

“I’m not concerned about him at all.”

“But you’re still concerned, I can tell. What is it?”

Nicholas shifted. He hated telling me things that would worry me, but I knew he wouldn’t hide anything from me if I asked directly. “The fire crew found weapons. Those don’t burn. They found knives and swords. But they’ve not found Black’s rapier.”

“Oh.”

“There is a lot of debris. It could be buried,” he told me with a forlorn smile. His reassurance was hollow. “Besides, you are absolutely right. I ran him through and punched him out. I didn’t see him get back up or escape. And nobody else saw him come out of the church either.”

I nodded. I could tell Nicholas wasn’t convinced.

“Are you worried that he’ll come back for you?” I asked quietly.

He shook his head slightly.

“I’m not worried,” I said confidently. “Even if he did make it out, he was badly hurt.”

Nicholas pressed his lips into a tight line. Something was bothering him.

When he realized I was waiting for an explanation, he quietly whispered, “I hesitated.”

I knitted my eyebrows together in confusion.

“I could have killed him but I hesitated.” The confession darkened his smoky eyes.

I remembered the look of betrayal on Black’s face when he saw Nicholas leading the mutiny. “You and he were close.”

Nicholas shook his head, his sad eyes turning angry. “I should have finished the job. If he is still alive, it’s my fault.”

I couldn’t keep up with Nicholas’s emotions. Unsure of what he wanted to hear, I did my best to comfort him. “I do not think he’s alive, but even if he is, we will never see him again. In a few days...or, uh, weeks—” I corrected myself when Nicholas looked meaningfully at my splinted leg, “—we will be on the
Freedom
, then in no time we will be safe in St. Kitts.”

Nicholas raised the scissors and I faced forward again. He snipped steadily at my hair, brushing it onto the floor as he trimmed. “You’re excited about St. Kitts, then?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Last time we talked about it—before the fire—you were so anxious, so reluctant to believe your father was alive.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t let my hopes get so high, but I think you are correct. Like you said, if so many different sources are talking about him by name and telling the same story about his daughter’s disappearance, then it has to be true. It can’t be coincidence.”

“I’m right more often than you think,” Nicholas teased. I heard him set down the scissors on the nightstand then he walked around the bed and sat in front of me, careful not to jostle my legs. A perfect smile spread across his tanned face.

My hands flew to my hair, assessing the abrupt bob. I groaned. “I look like a boy.”

Nicholas shook his head, but he still had a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Yes I do! Even your hair is longer than mine.”

He
carefully leaned in to me and brushed the side of my neck with his lips. “Short hair has its advantages.”  He pulled back and looked in my eyes. He knew I was still doubtful. His warm hand slid through my hair. “Trust me,” he said huskily, “you do not look like a boy.”

My face flushed hot. Nicholas continued to run his fingers through my newly shorn hair. He honestly seemed mesmerized by it.

“It looks all right?” I asked tentatively.

“Aye. I would have never expected...It’s really quite fetching.” He grinned again then touched his lips to my earlobe. I trembled with chills.

Nicholas stood and retrieved a dish of scones he had purchased earlier. He set them on my lap and sat by me again.

“These are good,” I said finishing one and starting on another.

I picked the scone apart, popping little morsels in my mouth. When I caught Nicholas watching me, I smiled flirtatiously.

“You are happy today,” he noticed. “Especially for a girl with two broken legs and a shocking new hair cut.”

“Hey. That’s only one broken leg.”

“Still, you are in a sprightly good humor.”

I shrugged lightly. “It’s just...everything is falling into place. We don’t have to go to London. You won’t have to work a torturous job in that sooty city. My father will award you a pardon. We can stay in the Caribbean. We can stay free.”

“Is that what you were worried about?” Nicholas asked, sitting forward and tucking my hair behind my ear. “You were worried that going to London meant giving up our freedom?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, I think that’s it, though I didn’t realize it until just now. I felt London was being forced upon me. And you do not belong there. You really don’t. I know you would have made it work, but you belong here. In the sun and wind.” I stared at him intently. His limpid eyes sparkled.

“And I can’t say whether I belong in England anymore. I’ve changed so much. Look at me! I’m eating scones on a bed with a pirate!” I giggled.

“That’s true,” he smiled. “You are definitely not ‘Miss Monroe’ anymore. I can’t even say it without laughing.”

We both laughed.

I tugged at his shirt, signaling for him to come closer. He set the plate of scones aside and obliged, wrapping his solid arms around me. I nestled into his broad chest, inhaling his delicious smell.

“I’m not quite sure who I am anymore, or where I belong. But I think I might belong in the sun and wind, too.” I looked into his face. “I think I might belong with you.”

Our lips met, the kiss starting tenderly, softly. My blood rushed, warming me from the inside out. The hot breath from Nicholas’s mouth mingled with mine and I found myself suddenly gasping for air. His hands moved to my face, cupping my cheeks gently. I melted completely into his touch, relaxing, and molding into him.

Nicholas pulled me into his arms and cradled me close, stroking my cheek and staring into my eyes.

“I think you might belong with me, too,” he whispered.

* * * * *

A fortnight later, a fair wind filled the sails of the
Freedom
as Nicholas hauled in the anchor. I stood barefoot on the deck leaning against the railing to take the weight off my splinted leg. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in the feeling of the sun on my face and the wind in my wild hair. Nicholas made his way to the helm and said, “Onward ho! To St. Kitts!”

The ocean danced eagerly, pulling us away from Curaçao and into open waters.

Squinting into the horizon, I took a deep breath of sea air and sang a chantey into the wind.

The End

Acknowledgements

This book would not exist without the inexhaustible faith of my best friend and editor Jamie Boyd. Thank you.

Ryan Brijs, your visual creations made this work breathe with life. I am so lucky to have such talent in my corner.

A sincere thanks to Tisa Woolf, Jeromy Caballero, J. Clark Gardner, Meagan Spaulding, Jessica Zetterquist, Julie Groff, Stephanie Frederick, and Normandie Hays for their support and assistance.

Justin, you’ve helped a dreamer become a doer. Thanks for your sacrifice and countless soda runs.

Thank you to every single one of my readers. This book has been a work of passion, a trial of faith—a true pleasure to bring to life. I hope you enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it.