The Pirate Captain (94 page)

The corner of Harte’s eye ticked, conceding. “Lord Creswicke sends his compliments.”

“Me aged aunt’s ass he does,” Nathan sputtered. “And where, pray tell, is our fair Lord Pompous? Has he not chosen to honor us with his presence?”

Roger sighed imperiously. “The distances were too great, as you well know. You were the one to so brilliantly engineer this entire sordid affair within a timeframe which did not allow for word to reach His Lordship, intentionally rendering him helpless.”

“Too bloody damned right. But, I pride meself on being an amicable and co-operative sort.” Nathan sauntered back and forth in front of Harte with an extra flourish. “If you prefer, the Young Miss may linger to allow His Insuffurrableness the time to evaluate his options with regards to the future of his intended.”

The Commodore again scanned his surroundings, measuring and assessing. It couldn’t be missed that it provided time for the pirates to be duly impressed, and no doubt, in hopes second thoughts might prevail, allowing intimidation to take root.

“I demand you produce Miss Collingwood at once, so I may verify she is well and unharmed.”

His impertinent smile growing to devious, Nathan waited a lengthy interval before calling with lilting affection, “Prudence, darling. Pray, will you join us, luv?”

In the cabin, Prudence’s cornflower eyes rounded with dread. She swiveled to Cate, who waved her forward. Gripping the folds of her dress, Prudence went out with the levity of the doomed.

“Ah, there you are, luv. Come out and meet the nice man,” Nathan said.

Those in official blue did an en masse intake of air at seeing Prudence’s tattered and barefoot state. Harte’s eyes narrowed to a contempt-laden glare. Nathan put an arm around Prudence’s waist and drew her close. The insult of the act sent a shockwave of indignation through the Navymen and they lurched forward. An equal reaction came from the Morgansers, poising their weapons higher. The sight of the plumed and cockaded hats on the deck had been chilling. That, however, was erased by the warmth brought at seeing Harte’s eyes bulge at Nathan’s arm trailing higher to the girl’s shoulders.

“Pray tell the nice man, darling, of your wonderful time,” prompted Nathan in sugary tones.

“I had a wonderful time.” Prudence failed miserably at a convincing smile.

“Ah, see there. From the mouths of babes.” Nathan regarded Prudence and licked his lips. “And a babe she, is she not? It would appear our illustrious Lordness has been particularly fortunate, wouldn’t you say?”

“Get on with it, Blackthorne.” Harte ground out through his teeth.

“Captain Nathanael Blackthorne, if you please, sir. I thought we might bide our time—have a bit of a chat—what with your long journey and all.” Nathan clucked his tongue in mocking sympathy. “You have come so far. Would you care for a spot of tea, perhaps, and rest your weary bones?”

“Thank you, no,” Harte said in measured patience. “I imagine Miss Collingwood would prefer to retire to the
Resolute
, where she will be among the civilized, as opposed to this vile and barbarous lot. I’m confident her delicate sensibilities have been accosted.”

“Accosted?” Nathan rolled the word in his mouth. “Prudence, luv—?”

“
Miss
Collingwood, to you,” Harte hissed.

“
Prudence
?” Nathan began again. “Have your sensibilities—stipulating, of course, that they are indeed of a delicate nature—have they…have you been accosted in any way?”

Prudence stammered. “Well, no, I—”

“I thought not!” Nathan pulled her closer in the nearest thing to a hug. “So, you see, my dear Commodore, your concerns for the safety and welfare of this fine young lady have been categorically unfounded.”

“We’ve brought the sums demanded,” Harte said.

As if on cue, a pirate cheer went up, with a suddenness and ferocity which caused Marines, sideboys, and officers alike to fall back.

Nathan touched a finger to his chin and thoughtfully rolled his eyes. “Have you now? I was having reconsiderations—second thoughts, as it were—as to just how much our beloved Lord might be willing to pay. Just how much are fresh, young fiancées going for these days?” he mused, toying with a lock of Prudence’s hair.

“There was an agreement.” The muscles flexing in Roger’s jaws were visible even at Cate’s distance.

“Was there? Hmm…I don’t recall that bit.” Nathan counted off on his fingers. “I recall taking her. Do you recall that, Master Pryce?”

“Aye, sir! Recall it well,” the First Mate called from nearby.

“Yes, I thought so. And, I recall making a demand.” Nathan twisted his face with the effort of recollection. “No. No, I don’t recall an accord after that.”

Nathan stood back to take in Prudence and gave his brows a salacious waggle. “I don’t know; I might decide to keep her for meself. Bunks can be cold this time of year, but you would be more aware of that than I. And I shouldn’t have to tell you how unlucky a woman on board can be. Insufferingly bad luck, is it not, Mr. Pryce?”

“Foul-black and terrifying, sir.”

“Although,” Nathan said, swiveling back on Harte, “come to shed a light on it, perhaps we’ve just struck upon the source of your less-than-fortunate fortunes of recent. One too many whores secreted away, eh?”

Harte went even more rigid—if that was at all possible—his knuckles whitening on the hilt of his sword. Cate felt a brief surge of sympathy for the man. The man knew Nathan was provoking him. Propriety wouldn’t allow him to do a blessed thing but take it as a gentleman.

Gentleman. It was Harte’s banner and his burden. He wore it for all to see, like a little girl with a new dress. And, like that little girl, the possession was an instant confinement, imprisoned and handcuffed by the thing they loved most.

The Commodore’s nostrils flared. “You would certainly be more familiar that than I.”

Nathan made an unsavory face and clucked his tongue reprovingly. “Why Commodore, jealousy is certainly not a becoming color on you, a-tall!”

The green eyes sharpened to pinpoints. “Do. Not. Test. Me.”

Harte gestured and a large leather pouch was tossed at Nathan’s feet, landing with the clatter of coins.

Nathan regarded Harte, and then turned to Prudence.

“Very well, then, darling,” Nathan said in a fatherly tone. His hands fluttered about her person, arranging curls and straightening ribbons. “We must take our farewells then, my dear. Be a good girl, and remember what I told you about strangers.”

He shook a parental finger, while Prudence nodded, intent on his every word. “Mind your elders, say your prayers, and never eat dessert with your fish fork. Now, do you think you can remember all that?”

“Then, this is good-bye?” she asked meekly.

“Aye, luv,
adieu
it ’tis.”

Her lower lip began to quiver. “Will I ever see you again?”

Nathan slid Harte a taunting leer. “One never knows, does one?”

Nathan barely had time to pat the girl on the head and nudge her forward before Harte seized her by the arm to tuck her safely behind him.

Nathan ducked a mocking bow and bared his teeth in a contemptuous smile.

“’Tis been a pleasure doing business, Commodore.”

Harte’s gaze travelled the deck and fixed on the cabin door. “I am in a position to offer the price of freedom for whomever
else
you might be harboring against their will.”

Cate jerked back, clapping a hand over her mouth against her gasp. Since their parting, Harte would have had time to learn of her identity and the warrants for here arrest. Or, was he operating in a fog of chivalry, only intending to save her?

“Can’t imagine what you’re referring to, mate. You suggest we are running some sort of vessel of iniquity. Anyone here is so because they wish it. There be no other hostages. Right, mates?”

The crew heartily sounded their support.

“And, as we have already so succinctly and eloquently discussed, women on a ship
are
bad luck, or have you forgotten, already?” Nathan asked.

“Then our business is complete.” Harte ducked a bow and pivoted on his heel. Taking Prudence by the elbow, he headed for the accommodation gate, his boarding party in close order behind.

“By the by,” Nathan called to Harte’s back. “Have a care unshipping her, mate. Her welfare is in
your
hands, now.”

Nathan swaggered toward the Great Cabin. Roosting atop a cask near the doors, he lounged against the bulkhead.

“I would have paid admission to watch this,” he said low enough for only Cate’s benefit.

Together, Cate pressing her eye to the doorjamb, they watched a commodore and men of the Royal Navy grapple with the gargantuan task of removing a 16-year-old girl from the
Morganse.

“Harte doesn’t appear pleased,” she said.

Nathan made a caustic noise. “He always appears to have his breeches on backwards or something.”

A screech pierced the air, another of the temple-stabbing nature, and Cate gasped. “They aren’t actually going to do what it looks like, are they?”

Nathan cocked his head consideringly. “It’s been me personal experience—humble as it may be,” he added, touching a hand to his chest. “That a kicking and screaming woman doesn’t pass well from hand to hand, under any circumstances, down the side, while at anchor, or at any time, actually, truth be told. Doesn’t go well, a-tall.”

Pryce sidled closer, unable to tear his eyes from the spectacle unfolding. “Shouldn’t we be offerin’ a hand, Cap’n?”

Nathan contemplated briefly. “No, Master Pryce. ’Tis been me perpetual experience the Royal Navy is best left to its own devices. Bloody resentful they are of interference, especially from the likes such as us.”

Pryce swiveled an incredulous look. “Even if ’tis the path of destruction?”

“More’s the sweetness of the result,” Nathan said, with a complacent grin.

The pirates stood in a mix of sympathy and disbelief at the two Marines bellowing in pain as Prudence clawed for a more secure hold on their necks.

“Not sure they’ve enough skin for this task,” Pryce observed, struggling to preserve his straight face.

Nathan lolled in half-lidded contentment. “Aye, Mr. Pryce, we can all tell our grandchildren of the day Royal Navy blood was drawn and spilled on the decks of the
Ciara Morganse,
and never a blade was raised.”

He was correct; blood was being spilt
,
albeit in fine droplets, from nails raking cheeks and necks of the souls who lowered the screeching Prudence over the side. Her head eventually disappeared below the gunwale, leaving only the sound of her screaming and frantic shouts. At length, there was only the coxswains’ call to the oarsmen as they pushed away.

“Ah, well,” Nathan sighed. “The show is over. Prepare to make way, Master Pryce.”

“Is it over?” Stepping over the coaming, Cate could see the recessional of longboats trailing toward the warship.

“Not until they’ve sank the horizon, but from all appearances, I’d say aye. The
Griselle
on their flank will help keep them honest.” Nathan rocked on his toes, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. “I shan’t fancy they would try anything, what with Lord Creswicke’s beloved betrothed aboard.”

“That was cruel, you know.”

He struggled to hide his satisfaction, but finally surrendered and broke into a full-fledged grin. “Only because Commodore Stick-Up-His-Britches wouldn’t deign to ask for help. Besides, no two people deserved it more.”

Towers ambled down the deck. He bent to pick up the leather pouch, his eyes rolling in pleasure at the heavy clinking sound inside. “What’s to do with this, Cap’n?”

Nathan waved a vague hand. “Pass the word for Mr. Pryce. ’Tis his affair.”

“After all that, you’re not interested in the money?” Cate asked.

Nathan cocked one hip as he leaned on the rail. He scanned the horizon and smiled crookedly. “Pryce is the quartermaster: shares are his task.”

“My rewards come in other forms.”

“Creswicke doesn’t strike me as the type to be trifled with. What will he do when he finally finds out?”

His cheeks rounded with a grin, white laced with gold. “Everything he can, darling—
everything
he can.”

End of Part Two

Chapter 18: Twisted Fate

C
ate stood at the cabin’s table, her honing basket and all its contents spread before her. She concentrated on the flat, even strokes of Stubbs’ knife across the honestone’s oiled surface. She heard the clump of Nathan’s boots come in and the scuff of when he stopped.

“You’re upset.” Nathan spoke from somewhere near the mizzen, she thought, for she didn’t look up.

“I’m fine.”

“No,” he said carefully. “I think not.”

“I’m fine.”

“I see.” Sighing as one resigned to an inevitable battle Nathan inched closer. “Then why are you in here, when you’re usually out there?”

From the corner of her eye, Cate saw a thumb jab over his shoulder toward the door.

“Beatrice represents that Hodder, Squidge, and the afterguard didn’t banish you from the afterdeck because of your charmingly gay company,” he said reprovingly.

Cate winced. Once the exchange for Prudence had been completed, and the
Resolute
’s masts had dipped the horizon, the
Morganse
had wore around through the Straits, spread her studdingsails, and ran before the wind to her rendezvous with the
Griselle
. In retrospect, Cate mightn’t have presented herself in the best light since. The hands’ eye-rolling and grumbling behind her back hadn’t gone unnoticed. Several things had weighed on her mind, none of which she was willing to put a name to.

“I’m fine,” she said, sounding more bullish than was flattering.

Nathan twisted his jaw sideways in consideration. “Uh-huh. Then what are all those?”

He nodded toward the floor. A small, bristling array of knives, from rigging to pocket, were stuck in the wood at her feet, as if someone had been playing mumblypeg. Cate winced, vaguely recalling having flung a few things…maybe…