The Pirate Captain (99 page)

“The fiends! They broke in upon us.” Lady Bart’s shrill rose over the male furor. “They seek to escape through the gardens. Oh, the shock! The horror!”

“Yes, ma’am,” came a deeper voice. “But we heard—?”

“No, no! The Commodore has scared them off. Pray, he begs you give chase and do not return, until you have apprehended them and we can safely rest in our beds,” said Lady Bart, with a heretofore unheard tone of authority.

There was a moment of indecision, questions and answers colliding. And then they heard the thump of boots speeding away. Sally and Lady Bart slipped back into the room, closing the door and throwing the bolt behind them.

Lady Bart pressed a hand to her heaving bosom. “They’ve taken their leave for now.”

Sally retrieved Nathan’s sword from the corner. Adoration softened the stern features as she gave it back, her fingers lingering on his. “You need to take your leave.”

From outside the windows came the clatter of musketry and men running.

“We need to show a leg and haul our wind,” Nathan announced and headed for the door.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Cate said, stopping him by the sleeve.

“Suffering Jesus on the cross, now what?” he groaned.

“Prudence won’t be going with us.”

His mouth fell open and remained so for several seconds. “Then what the bloody hell did we come here for?”

“To help her, and we did!”

“We did,” he said dully. He gave his head a shake. “I must have been hit harder than I thought.”

“It’s all arranged,” Lady Bart cried joyously, pressing her palms to her cheeks. “She’ll be staying here, with me.”

Nathan whirled at the sound of her voice, feathers billowing at his knees. “Who the hell are you?”

“This Lady Bart,” Cate said. “She’s Prudence’s aunt—”

“Except not anymore,” Prudence said with a conspiratorial smirk.

Nathan looked to the ceiling in search of guidance, then closed his eyes in search of patience.

“Look, luv, I’d love to stand here and have a gang old chat, but yon Commodore shan’t stay down much longer, and here is not where I’d rather be when he wakes up, if you get me drift.”

Conceding his point, Cate hugged Prudence, and then held her by the shoulders. “Prudence, it’s your responsibility to set this all right. This could have very serious consequences, so you must do everything in your power to assure the Captain isn’t implicated.”

“What did I do?” Nathan demanded from the doorway.

“Nothing,” Cate said, gazing unwaveringly at Prudence.

“Then, what did she do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” chorused the women.

“I shall, I promise,” Prudence said earnestly. She hugged Cate tightly. “Thank you, Cate, for everything.”

Prudence peeked around Cate to wave timidly at Nathan. “Thank you, also Captain.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and then grumbled under his breath, “Not sure what I did.”

Cate lowered her eyebrows at him, jerked her head in Prudence’s direction, and then arched her brows significantly.

“She just saved your life,” she hissed in the face of his scowl.

Groaning, he stepped around, took Prudence by the shoulders and kissed her lightly on the cheek. The girl’s eyes popped open in shock, her porcelain face going several shades of crimson.

“You’re a lovely girl,” he said, with surprising sincerity.

Nathan turned to find himself encircled by women, all focused at him. Flashing a nervous grin, he shifted on his feet. Expelling a resigned sigh, he seized Nanna’s hand before she could recoil and kissed it. He had barely straightened, before Sally had her in his arms and gave him a plunging kiss.

“Good-bye, Nathan,” she said, breathless as a maid.

He pushed free of her grasp only to wind up squarely before Lady Bart. She was clearly distraught to have the renowned brigand so near. There was a brief jousting of hands, Nathan reaching while Lady Bart, caught between civility and dread, extended only to jerk away. Nathan finally caught up her hand and touched her knuckles to his lips. He then swept a bow, and then wheeled around on Cate.

“Can we go now or is there a scullery maid I missed?” he asked as he propelled her toward the door.

“Wait. Wait!” Prudence cried.

Amid Nathan’s sputtering protests, Cate pulled to a halt. Prudence snatched up the two sewing boxes and thrust them into Cate’s arms.

“You need these,” the young girl said, eyes bright with emotion.

“Thank you!” Cate shouted over her shoulder as Nathan pulled her away.

“Wait! Wait!” Lady Bart trotted to catch them up “Allow me.”

“But, there’s guards and—” Cate began.

Lady Bart waved her away. “Yes, yes, I know. Come!”

Exchanging uncertain glances, Cate and Nathan had no option but to follow Lady Bart down the long hallway to the foyer. Every footstep echoed like a gunshot on the polished floors, but the house was already in such high turmoil, they passed with little notice. The doorman drew open the front door for his mistress to pass, Cate and Nathan in her wake. Lady Bart stopped on the portico and craned her neck to inspect the surrounding grounds.

“It appears to be clear,” she announced, red-faced with excitement. “Have no care; I’ll attend the guards.”

Cate hesitated, not sharing her confidence. “How are you going to explain this?”

“Pish-posh! Diggie already thinks I’m a doddering old fool; a little more so is of minor consequence. I’ll manage.”

She hugged Cate, a gesture of surprising familiarity. “I am in your debt; you saved my niece from an intolerable fate.”

A knot of remorse twisted in Cate’s gut. “And robbed her of her family.”

“And given her a life. I’d call it a fair trade.” Chin quivering and eyes welling, Lady Bart patted Cate on the arm. “Have a care, dear.”

Nathan stood with his hands on his hips in the middle of the drive, having apparently just discovered that Cate wasn’t with him.

“Forgot to exchange recipes?” he asked as she caught him up.

“A real gentleman would carry these.” She pitched the sewing boxes into his arms as she passed, leaving him to fumble on his own, to keep from dropping them.

###

Suffering none of Lady Bart’s confidence, Nathan steered a path sharply away from the one they had come by, and well wide of the sleeping town. Several times Nathan left Cate in a thicket, in order to circle back and confirm they weren’t being pursued. Eventually, they angled back to the narrow road to the back bay.

Once on the road, they walked side by side. A box dangling from each hand, Nathan listened to Cate relate the resolution of Prudence’s situation.

“How in bloody hell did you come up with that?” he cried.

“I don’t know. It just came to me.”

He snorted and shook his head, wincing with the movement. “That plan has more holes in it than a fish net. And people say I’m daft.”

The starlight limning his profile, she told him of Prudence’s dalliances in Boston, and her father’s decision to send her away.

“Why that little trollop,” he said in grudging awe.

“I was thinking something considerably less kind.”

“I dare say,” Nathan said, smiling tolerantly. “You curse better than a street whore.”

“I suppose I should take that as a compliment?”

“In every sense of the word, darling,” he said, with all sincerity. “That scheming, devious, conniving little…”

Nathan chuckled wryly. “Blessed pity, that. I was enjoying the prospect of the misery she would cause His Bumptiousness.”

Cate saw him wince as he shook his head. “Head hurt?”

“A bit. It would seem the Commodore’s elbow is a mite more accurate than previously credited.”

Nathan protested—more for form, Cate thought—but finally halted to submit to her attentions. Plucking away the lingering feathers, she probed his head and under the scarf. His scalp was wet, but it felt more like sweat than blood’s stickiness.

“It’s difficult to see in the dark, but it doesn’t seem anything serious,” she said.

The night closed in. The way was narrow and they occasionally bumped shoulders. It was remarkably warm and still for such an hour, the air like heavy velvet. Moths, some the size of small birds, hung motionless, as if suspended. Nathan had a
cantus firmus
of his own amid the nocturnal choristers of night creatures. The crunch of his boots, the creak of leather belts, the slap of his sword against his leg, and the swish of bells made a kind of music—his music, the soft rasp of his breathing adding a counterpoint.

“You owe me a thank-you, by the way,” Nathan threw into the silence.

“For what?”

“Did you not notice? I told Princess What’s-Her-Name she was pretty, just like you asked.” Nathan nodded primly.

“Yes, I noticed, and I’m proud of you. I could see she was much the better for it.” Cate felt rather like a mother praising a child, as though she should be patting him on the head.

“I live to serve.” His attempt at a grandiose bow was hindered by his burden.

It was nearly impossible not to notice Nathan’s increasing uneasiness, like a pot building up to boil. Several times, he drew a breath as if to say something, and then abruptly chose not to.

“God’s blood and wounds, I can’t bear another minute,” Nathan burst out, drawing to a halt. “What did I do? I’m not so thick-pated as I couldn’t tell I was being blamed for something. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Cate turned and continued on.

“No, no, no!” Striding to catch up, Nathan pried a finger from a box handle to waggle it at her. “Don’t try to pull one over on Ol’ Nathan. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Cate clamped her lower lip between her teeth as eyes fixed straight ahead. “I thought you did something—they thought you did something—but you didn’t, just like I thought.”

A faint flash of gold and white showed his relieved smile. “That’s good!”

Nathan's pace slowed as the smile faded. “What had I done?”

“Nothing. That’s just it, nothing.”

Cate whirled around with a suddenness that made him skid to a stop to avoid a collision. “Just as always: nothing! Isn’t it?” she fumed.

He fell back a step in the face of her vehemence. “I’m being cursed for doing nothing?”

“You’re damned right!” Spinning around, she struck off, agitation quickening her pace.

“And, if I had done…something?” he called.

“Anything!”

Nathan jogged to catch up and fell into step next to her. “I see,” he finally said, straining to pick through her logic. “And, if I had done anything, you’d be the happier?”

“Something would have been better than nothing,” Cate said tartly.

“There’s an eloquently informative statement.” Nathan paused to sweep a mocking bow, as if the forest was his audience. “Pray, I beg you not hesitate to allow me the joy of knowing how I can be of greater service. If there’s anything—something—
nothing
I can do, I am forever at your leisure.”

“I’d be happier than I am now.”

“With nothing. Bloody hell!”

Grumbling darkly under his breath, he stopped again. “All right, let’s have it!” he called after her. “C’mon, something’s vexing you. Let’s have it!”

Scuffing to a halt, Cate stared ahead. Her legs ached, for she had been pounding the ground with every step, since they had passed through Lady Bart’s gate. She had been trying to make the best of the evening—on the surface, everything had been a success—but had failed miserably.

“Very well,” she said, turning back around. “Do you
really
want to hear it?”

Nathan's shirt a ghostly glow in the dark, he extended his laden arms to his sides, as if to offer a target. “Either that or I’ll be doomed to spend the rest of me days in mystery of when it finally
will
come out.”

A part of her screamed for her to desist, to leave it lie. Another part, larger and more boisterous, irked and angered, frayed by weeks of containment, urged her to let fly.

“You kissed every woman in that room tonight,” she began, her throat tightening.

“I did.” His pride faltered at the sight of her stalking toward him. “At your bidding, I might add.”

“I only desired you to give Prudence a little peck on the cheek.”

“Then you should have given me your peck signal, because all I got was the go-ahead-and-do-something,” Nathan shot back, eyes bulging in defiance.

The internal voice of ration screamed for Cate to stop. On many occasions she had listened, but not now. A knot of impending tears grew behind her eyes; she vowed not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“Jesus to god, woman, out with it!” Nathan growled.

“You kissed every woman in that room tonight, except me.” Cate gulped down a lump. “You kissed all of them, except me! Why not me?” She pounded her chest with her fist. “Am I so distasteful to you?”

With no ready answer, Nathan looked to the ground, and then away. “I was taking you with me.”

“For what?”

He winced at his hollow answer being recognized for what it was.

Squarely before him now, her voice quavered dangerously. “You kissed Prudence. You kissed Sally—God knows what else you did to that poor woman! Hell, you even kissed Nanna’s and Lady Bart’s hands! But not me. Why?”

The moonlight caught the glitter of resentment and accusation in his slitted eyes. Regretting having said anything, she retreated in the face of what looked to be a storm fit to erupt. Instead, he lurched forward and kissed her, firm but quick on the mouth.

“There!”

If shock has been his intention, he had been triumphant.

Nathan stood back. His chest heaved, rising and falling as if he was fighting someone, or something, like a long torment.

“Oh, bloody hell!” He flung the boxes aside and swept Cate into his arms.

Knowing Nathan was going to kiss her was one thing. The ferocity with which he took her was something else, driving Cate back, until she came up against a tree and then held her there.

“Damn!” He drew a shaky breath. “I knew this would happen; I knew if I started, I could never stop.”

Nathan kissed her again, forcing her mouth open under his, hungry and demanding. A thrill verging on giddiness raced through her. The scrape of the tree at her back brought back visions of another night, but this was nowhere near the same. Cate's head whirled with in disbelief, fearing it another of his fooleries.