The Pirate Captain (76 page)

With dramatic precision, he inspected the wine bottles, tipping up each to exhibit their emptiness. He reached across Cate to pluck up her glass with two fingers. Sniffing, he arched a brow.

“Very nice,” Nathan murmured, coldly. “How much of
this
have you had?”

“What do you care?” She bit her lip, instantly aware of how defensive it sounded.

Nathan threw back his head and drained it in a single gulp, then set back with the same two-fingered care. She had seen him in many moods, but this was different, as dark and dangerous as his precious sea. “Nathan can have a black temper,” Thomas had said. An eruption seemed imminent.

Thomas’ hand was now a searing weight on her neck, his thumb repeatedly tracing the curve of her ear. The gesture might have gone unnoticed, but Nathan was in a keen-eyed mood and fixed on it like Artemis on a rat.

“Thomas has just given me these combs—” Cate began.

“A little present,” Thomas put in.

“…and he was putting them in for me.”

“I dare say.” Nathan tipped his head and narrowed one eye to a cutting slit. “Both arms broken, so he had to do it, eh?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” She shifted uneasily nonetheless. “You should know better than anybody how wild this hair can be.”

“Sure,” Thomas said lightly. “You’ll recall those sisters of mine.”

Thomas resumed his task, pointedly ignoring Nathan, who stood with his hands propped on his hips. It was noticeable that, amid all the tension, Thomas was the most placid. If anything, he exuded contentment.

Cate could think of nothing to say that didn’t sound defensive. The lavish lighting, elegant table, drinks and gifts: if seen from Nathan’s viewpoint, it was an intimate scene.

This is ridiculous. It’s like something out of a farce!

“How did everything go with Creswicke’s fiancée?” Cate asked finally.

Nathan broke his glare at Thomas to direct a tight-lipped smile at her. “Hmm? Oh, fine. Predictably inevitable, as always, fine.”

“Everything went according to plan?” Thomas said, concentrating on a deeply entrenched snarl.

“Aye, perfect,” Nathan said distractedly. Folding his hands behind his back, he rocked on his feet, and then cleared his throat loudly. “Well, it would seem I’ve arrived at an inopportune moment, so…”

The thought hung incomplete as he strode toward the door.

“Nathan? Nathan!” she called, but futilely. With a disgusted growl, she sprang up and rounded on Thomas. “You planned this.”

Cate was met with wide grin. “Aye, I did. And it worked. You’ve got his attention, now,” he called as she scurried around the table and out the door.

Nathan was nearly to the capstan, by the time Cate caught him up. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a stop. “Will you wait a minute?”

He whirled and ducked a mocking bow. “A thousand pardons,
Madam
. Forgive me for disturbing—”

“You didn’t disturb anything, and you damned well know it!”

“My mistake.” Baring his teeth in something between a smile and a sneer, he turned and marched away.

“Nathan, damn it, come back here!”

He spun back in a clatter of bells. Nathan reared back his head to glare at her down the long line of his nose. “Yes?”

Cate rocked back on her heels. “Yes, what?”

“I had the distinct impression you had something in the way of an obligatory explanation. Well, get on with it,” Nathan said, crossing his arms. “Enlighten me.”

“There’s nothing to explain.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“You think this was my doing?”

“I didn’t hear any objections.” He spread his arms and craned his head, as if such things might be found lying about.

“He had his hand over my mouth.”

“And where else?”

“You bastard—!”

His face dissolved. Cate made a fist and swung. Nathan easily fielded her punch in mid-air.

“Take better aim before you fire, darling,” Nathan growled. His fingers dug her flesh as he twisted her arm aside.

Cate jerked to free and rubbed her wrist, trying to erase the burn of his grip. “Do you think that little of me?”

“No! I think far more of you. However, I think far less of
him
,” he said, with a jerk of his head toward the cabin. “You never struck me as the game-playing sort.”

“This wasn’t my doing.”

“Yes, I can see the signs of struggle everywhere.” Nathan spun on his heel and stalked toward the accommodation ladder.

“You don’t own me,” she seethed in his wake. “You can’t keep me locked up like some feeble aunt to be let out at your pleasure. I can do as I want.”

Nathan pivoted back so suddenly, Cate almost collided with him.

“By all evidence, I’d wager that’s
exactly
what you were doing. By the way, the combs suit you,” he said as a begrudging afterthought.

Nathan's countenance softened, and he sighed. “True enough. As you have so eloquently and succinctly pointed out, I have no claim on you a-tall. I only came to take you away from this rabble, because I thought the
Morganse
was where you wanted to be. My mistake.” His cutting edge returned. He ducked another mocking bow. “I bid you good e’en.”

Cate followed him, hoping that he would stop again, her fears reaching panic proportions when he didn’t.

“Nathan!”

He whirled with an unexpected quickness that made her flinch. He recoiled, thinking Cate was going to take another swing. She held up her hands as a peace offering, but they still stood a distance apart.

“So…are you saying you don’t want me back?” she finally asked.

With a long-suffering air, Nathan crossed his arms. His boot tapped a rapid tattoo on the planks. “Do you want to go back?”

Cate could see Thomas over Nathan’s shoulder. Leaned against the cabin door’s frame, arms crossed, one foot cocked over the other, he was a dark blot against the blaze of candles behind him. The white of his smug smile, however, gleamed. She searched Nathan’s face for any sign of the familiar warmth or humor, but his features were either lost to the shadows, or obscured by a several day scruff of beard. He was as near a stranger then as he had been their first meeting.

“
Can
I go back?” she asked.

“Do you
want
to go back?”

God, I wish he would stop answering each question with another question
.

Biting her lip, she looked to her feet, and braced for the possibility of rejection.

What do I do then?

So seized by dread, Cate could barely squeeze out, “If I can.”

Nathan leaned nearer and lowered his voice. “You can do whatever you want to do, luv.”

Bare inches away, his eyes held hers, and then wavered, uncertainty tugging their corners. The inked pools held the same fear then, as the night of Jensen’s death, when she had asked to leave. He had, in essence, pled for her to stay. Betrayal was there now, whether by her or Thomas, she couldn’t tell. There was something else, a subterranean rumbling of something, so deep and restrained it couldn’t be named.

Cate wished she had a deeper understanding of what it was between these two men. It might have shown a light on what transgressions she may have unwittingly committed, what breach of faith may have violated. She needed a Ship’s Articles, or something in writing that clearly described her confines. The strain of tiptoeing around, lest she inadvertently trample another of Nathan’s secret boundaries, of the come-hither only to be pushed away, was becoming wearisome.

And yet, the thought of not being with him was even worse.

“Yes.” She meant to sound confident, but her voice quaked.

“You’re sure?” Nathan threw a hard look over his shoulder at Thomas, and then tilted his head at her. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.” She gulped, and ventured to ask, “Are you sure?”

He broke into a dazzling smile. “Darling, I’ve been sure since the day you were dropped on me deck. C’mon.”

“A minute, please. I’ll be right back.” Cate ran back to Thomas, in spite of Nathan’s scowl.

“Didn’t I say he’d be coming?” Thomas said, his grin broadening.

“You love it when you’re right, don’t you?”

Thomas laughed, loud and hearty. “There’s no denying it does allow the day to go better.”

Cate rose on her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you, I think.”

“Don’t thank me yet!” Thomas called after her, as she scurried back to Nathan. “You’ve got him hooked, but you still have to reel him in!”

“I’m not looking to catch anything,” Cate called back.

“God help you both!” he shouted and disappeared inside.

Nathan cast a suspicious look over his shoulder as he handed Cate down the side. “What did he mean by that?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, hitching her skirts. “Can we just go?”

She half-expected Nathan to sit next to her on the thwart. Instead, he sat facing her as they pushed off the
Griselle
.

“Stretch out and row dry,” Nathan demanded of the oarsman.

Their knees touched and he drew back. The small gesture speared any hopes that had dared to soar, of things between them being different. Thinking perhaps he was still annoyed, she thought to say something, but silence seemed the better option. Perhaps enough had been said already.

The peacefulness of the bay was broken only the low grunts of the oarsmen and the rustle of the water at each dip of the oar. The light of the bow lantern sparked like fireflies on the ripples. She took the opportunity to assimilate what had just happened. Just as Thomas had predicted, Nathan had come for her. It had been a surprising show, but of what? Jealousy? Protection? Male territoriality? Or, had it been another case of Nathan not wanting her, and yet not wanting anyone else—at least, not Thomas—to have her?

Pawn or prize? Would she ever know which one she was?

As they neared the
Morganse
, singing could be heard
,
inordinately loud for the hour. It was also markedly lacking in merriment, sounding more akin to the heavy-labor chants reserved for manning the capstan or hauling sheets.

“What are they singing about?” Cate asked.

“’Tis no celebration,” said Nathan glumly, and threw a dark look over his shoulder. “I suppose fair warning is in order.”

She stiffened. “About what?”

“Our guest—our dear Lord Creswicke’s intended betrothed.”

“What’s wrong? Nathan, what did you do to her?”

He stiffened with indignation. “Nothing! Wretchedly insulting you think I would. It’s just…well, it’s just…”

Chapter 14: Beloved Betrothed

T
ucking the hem of her skirt into her waistband, Cate struggled up the
Morganse
’s side. The black hull absorbed any ambient light, making it insufferably difficult to see. She groped overhead in the dark for the next step—no more than a ledge only half-large enough for a foot—while striving to not slip from the dew-slickened step upon which she stood. Two strong arms eventually came over the gunwale to seize her by her arms and lift her up. As she alighted on deck—right foot always touching first—she was met by the sound of female crying, and a beleaguered look on every man.

“How is it, man?” Nathan asked, after scampering up the side by the manrope like a squirrel up a tree, showoff!

“Not stopped since ye left, sir,” Pryce replied, with a grim roll of his eyes.

Cate whirled around on Nathan. “What did you do to her?” she shouted over the din.

Eyes rounding, Nathan sputtered indignantly. “Ravaged her! Six, no, seven times myself, plus every man having a turn! What the bloody hell else do you think we’d have time…?”

Nathan's protests faded as Cate ran into the cabin. The lamps were lit, but the sleeping area, from whence the shrieking came, was unlit.

“You left her in the dark!” Cate shouted.

Nathan and Pryce skidded to a halt behind her.

“We thought to put a light, but not a man would pass. Besides,” Nathan pleaded, wincing at the sound of demolition emanating from behind the curtain, “we feared for the welfare of herself and the ship were we to leave her alone with a flame.”

“We intended as to stow ’er below, but she sheared off in there, ’n stuck tighter than a barnacle on an oyster,” put in Pryce, retreating a step at Cate’s glare.

Cate pushed the curtain aside and held it. A band of light fell into the room, but not enough to see.

“Nooo! Please don’t kill me,” came a cry out of the darkness.

The crying increased to a siren-like pitch. The curtain falling closed behind her, Cate groped her way forward, using the shrieks as a beacon. Her eyes became accustomed to the dim enough to make out a figure cowering in the floor. Arms over her head, her shoes skidded on the planks as she tried to scrabble deeper into the corner.

“No! Please! I beg…! No!”

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you,” Cate said as she inched forward.

The woman thrashed and kicked, and caught Cate in the legs, hard enough to take her to the floor. She landed heavily on top of the woman. A struggle ensued: the woman fighting as if being attacked. Cate was dimly aware of a growing light and approaching footsteps as she grappled to extricate herself. Finally she managed to seize the woman by the arms and gave her a hard shake.

“You’re all right! I won’t hurt you!”

Cate’s pleas seemed at first to have fallen on deaf ears, but then resistance eased. In quavering moans, the woman slumped, perhaps more from exhaustion than terror. As steps came up behind her—Nathan’s, Cate now knew—and a growing light, Cate struggled to pry the soul free of the corner, a task akin to moving a dead sheep. Once able to grasp her chin, Cate brought the woman’s face around into the light and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from her face.

“You’re just a child!” She whirled around on Nathan. “She’s just a child.”

Enormous blue eyes focused on Cate, and then settled on Nathan. “Pirates! No!”

Cate’s opposition was smaller, but fought with the fury of the frenzied. Cate took the brunt as the woman scratched, kicked and clawed. After a shot square to the chin and an elbow to the stomach, Cate’s well-meaning intentions grew more determined. Still, it was no worse than wrestling with her younger brother…until she was bitten. She screeched and struck out, sending the girl tumbling back into the corner. Cate felt herself then being lifted from the floor. She somehow wound up at the door, Nathan between she and the cowering heap on the floor.