Withdrawing his lips, he hovered near her face and tilted his forehead against hers. Their heavy breaths intermingled in the air between them.
Isabel’s senses jolted back to reality. She pushed away from him, dashed a hand to her mouth, and stared at him aghast.
A sensuous grin played on his handsome lips. “Was it so horrifying?”
Shame raked over her, stomping out the flames of passion. She turned away. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not? Because you are promised to Sawkins?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “You knew?”
Kent nodded.
“And you didn’t turn the ship around?”
Kent’s sorrowful eyes swept over her. “Again, your low opinion of me cuts me to the quick.”
“What do you expect? Where were my opinions of you born?” Isabel glared at him, and he flinched. Suddenly, she regretted her harsh words.
With a hard swallow, Kent clasped her hand. “But tell me, does his lordship invoke such strong passions within you?”
“Why, you insolent cur.” Isabel jerked her hand from his. “There’s more to draw a woman than a passionate feeling here one minute and gone the next.” Although she had to admit her body still tingled with warmth from his kiss.
“How did you discover our betrothal?” Isabel brushed past him and sauntered to the bookshelves, trying to escape the intense feelings that swarmed over her.
“Sawkins was quick to lord his new conquest over me.” Kent gave a bitter laugh.
“A conquest?” Isabel swung about abruptly. “I daresay is that all you think I am—a prize to be won by the best man?”
Kent faced her and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Nay, milady, but I fear Lord Sawkins considers you so.”
She snorted. “You two have no doubt been battling for dominance since childhood. Be advised, Captain, I will not be the spoils of your personal war.”
Kent narrowed his eyes, his upper lip twitching.
Isabel scratched her arms. “Was your kiss just another tactic to win my affections?” She averted her gaze as tears burned behind her eyes, confusing her. “I have no doubt, Captain, that it was no different from the multitudes of kisses you’ve had before.”
“Truth be told, milady? There has been no woman since you.” Anguish devoured the usual sternness in Kent’s voice.
Isabel ran a wary gaze over him. “Since you ravished me, you mean?”
Kent eyes filled with remorse, and he shifted his stance.
“I don’t believe you. Not a man like you.” She turned her back to him, not wanting to see the regret on his face—afraid it would melt the shield around her heart, afraid of the outpouring of her feelings when that shield was gone.
“Believe what you will. ’Tis true nonetheless. There can be no other woman for me but you.”
“Then I fear you face a life of celibacy, for I am promised to Lord Sawkins.”
“Perchance I have misjudged you, milady, for if you are fool enough to marry that ninny simply for his title, then I must say you are deserving of each other.”
Isabel wheeled around. “I, too, have misjudged you, Captain, for I almost believed an ounce of honor had sprouted within your villainous heart.” Biting her lip, Isabel fought back tears, unsure from whence they came. “You may take your leave.”
With a sweep of his hand, Kent gave her a mocking bow and stormed from the cabin.
Darting a quick glance around the room, Isabel grabbed a teacup sitting on the table and tossed it at the door as it slammed shut. The cup shattered, littering the floor. She marched to the door, avoiding the glass, and bolted it before the knave could return, then swung around and leaned her head back on the oak slab. Tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Why was she so furious? Kent not only maintained his course to find Frederick, but had rescued her from certain ravishment. It was obvious he’d been drinking and that her betrothal angered him. Yet he’d been naught but kind to her.
Isabel rubbed her temples, hoping to quell the confusion and fury that churned through her. She trudged to the bed and fell onto it in a heap, clutching her pillows to her chest, and prayed for the Lord to make her path clear.
Chapter Twenty-One
Grace and Idols
Charging through the door of his cabin, Kent scanned the darkness, then grabbed the bottle of rum from his desk and headed up on deck. He marched onto the foredeck, ignoring the clusters of pirates littering the ship, well into their drink.
Darkness cast its shroud over the vessel, hovering like a demon over the waterlogged wood. Though the storm had ceased its assault upon the sea, it seemed only to be intensifying within Kent. A sudden chill seeped through his leather vest. Planting his boots on the sodden deck by the main head rail, Kent raised the bottle to his lips and poured a full draught down his parched throat in an effort to ward off the icy mist.
A sail snapped in the wind, drawing his gaze upward. Neither the faintest glimmer of the moon nor the twinkle of a star penetrated the heavy darkness that clung to the sky.
Boot steps approached, and Kent turned to see the doctor, pipe betwixt his lips, sauntering toward him. Blast. All Kent wanted at the moment was to be left alone.
The doctor withdrew his pipe. “Did you find Lady Ashton?”
Kent nodded, but said nothing, hoping Cutter would leave.
“I find it hard to believe she is indeed betrothed to Lord Sawkins.” Cutter shook his head and gave Kent a look of dismay.
Just hearing the words again sent pain lancing through Kent, followed by a cauldron of jealous rage that boiled over with fear for her safety.
Cutter puffed on his pipe and exhaled the sweet smoke in little ringlets that floated up into the night. “I cannot imagine what she sees in the man.”
“She sees wealth and title.”
“But at what cost?” Cutter chuckled. “Sorry, Captain, I know he’s your brother.”
“Half brother, if you please. And I’d be obliged if you didn’t remind me.” Kent gritted his teeth.
“I trust you found Lady Ashton unharmed?”
“Yes, but some mischief was afoot as you suspected. If you ask me, I’d say Sawkins had something to do with it.” Kent knew what Sawkins was capable of, but why would he lure Isabel below? Why would any man steal something that would soon be his anyway? Sawkins had never possessed a great deal of patience—especially with women, but this was beyond the limits of even his deranged mind. Perhaps Isabel had scorned him in some way or injured his pride. Nausea curdled in Kent’s stomach as he remembered his own acts of revenge on those who had dared to injure his inflated ego.
“Hmm,” Cutter mused. “I’m sure she was grateful for your rescue.”
Grateful? Kent’s thoughts flooded with visions of the kiss he’d shared with Lady Ashton, and heat flushed over him as he remembered her flaming response. Such a passionate reaction could not have risen purely from the physical attraction between them. She held affections toward him. He saw it in her eyes, those lustrous green eyes that could melt his heart one minute and shoot arrows into it the next. “Yes, you could say she was grateful. Unfortunately it didn’t last long before her peevish temperament returned.”
Cutter raised his scarred lips in a grin. “Do not discount intensity of feelings in whatever form they take.”
“That she loathes me is a good sign?” Kent shook his head at the doctor. The Restitution surged over a rising swell, and Kent braced himself. A shower of salty spray stung his face. He took in a deep breath of the tangy air as the breeze tugged his hair. He willed it to cool his temper. “I suppose I deserve nothing less than Lady Ashton’s scorn. Yet to see her marry Sawkins—” Kent clamped his hands around the bottle of rum, nearly crushing it in his grip. Perhaps he deserved to lose her for what he’d done. Guilt pulled Kent’s gaze downward to the swirling black sea. How could he blame Sawkins for doing the same vile things Kent had done most of his life? Neither of them deserved a woman like Isabel.
Cutter thrust his pipe back into this mouth and clasped his hands behind his back.
A ballad drifted on the wind from the pirates behind him.
“Where’er we roam
We call it our home
We plunder and pillage and feast.
’Tis treasure we’re after
’Tis all that matters
Some call us naught but beasts.”
Tipping the bottle to his lips, Kent took another swig and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He watched the amber liquid slosh in the bottle as the liquor burned a trail down his throat, numbing his mind but heightening his pain. With a disgusted grunt, he heaved the half-empty bottle into the sea. It landed with a feeble splash.
“Now, if you don’t mind, Doctor. I’m in no mood for company.”
Cutter faced him. “I’m beginning to believe in Lady Ashton’s God.”
Annoyance flared within Kent. Hadn’t the man heard him? Yet curiosity begged the question. “You? I thought you believed in the god of fate?”
“Ah yes, fate. I’ve found her to be quite fickle and unforgiving. No so with the true God. I used to deny His existence, but conscience and reason prevail upon me to do so no longer.”
Kent could not argue with the things he, too, had seen. Truth be told, he’d avoided thinking about God. Somehow the idea that there was an all-powerful, holy Creator watching him made Kent feel dirty and worthless. And afraid, if he dared admit it. “I’ll not deny He may exist, but either way, it makes no difference to me.”
Cutter’s brows pinched together. “Why wouldn’t it?”
The words of Kent’s father floated into the corners of his mind, taunting him. You’re worthless. You’ll never amount to anything. His father belched, wiped rum-laced drool from his lips, and kicked young Kent in the ribs.
Shaking the memory from his thoughts, Kent bunched his fists. He had proven his father wrong. He had amounted to something, but now as he faced the possibility of a holy God, he realized the cost of his success might have been too high. “If God is real, He gave up on me a long time ago.”
“Hmm, perhaps, but Lady Ashton told me her God is willing to not only to forgive all the wicked things we’ve done but to forget them as well, as long as we truly repent and come to Him through Christ, His Son.”
Kent chuckled. “Seems you’ve been spending too much time with Lady Ashton. You begin to sound like her.”
“Aye, she’s been assisting me with Hann.” Cutter smiled.
“How is the lad?”
“Remarkably well, thank you, Captain.”
Silence overtook them, all save the flap of sails on the yards and rustle of sea against the bow. Grabbing the bridge of his nose, Kent squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back a rising headache. Was it possible God forgave all sins? He opened his eyes and glanced at Cutter. “This God forgives even murder, rape, and thievery?”
Cutter pursed his lips. “Aye, from what I am told.”
“Kidnapping?”
Cutter nodded.
“Torture?”
“All sins, Captain.” Cutter grinned.
“But why would He?” It didn’t make sense. Kent had authority over others. When one of his men defied him, Kent’s punishments came swift and harsh. Why would God be any different? Without fear of penalty, all discipline aboard the ship would be lost. Fear was the way to keep order and control. Not forgiveness.
Cutter puffed his pipe. “I suppose He does it for love. He is our Father, after all, and what father would not forgive his children if they truly were sorry.”
Father? A clump of nausea rose in Kent’s throat. His vision of a father was far from a loving one. Yet, even as he pondered the thought, a sudden warmth blanketed him, stirring his heart with a longing he could not name.
Kent motioned toward Cutter’s withered hand. “How can you say this? If this God loved you so much, why did he cause such a catastrophe to occur in your life?”
The flicker of a star appeared on the horizon where thick clouds began to dissipate.
Cutter shrugged. “What we consider a misfortune may turn out to be a blessing in disguise.” His gaze landed upon the star, its light twinkling in his eyes. “I discover I am not so unhappy here aboard your ship, Captain, and I would have never joined your crew if I had not been burned in that fire.”
“I cannot accept that.” Kent crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m in control of my life. I make my own plans.”
Leaning toward him, Cutter raised a brow. “Yet has that brought you the happiness you seek?” He slapped Kent on the back and strode away, leaving only the sweet scent of his tobacco swirling through the humid air.
Kent scanned the dark sea. His gaze drifted upward. “God,” he began then swallowed, not knowing what to say or even how to talk to the Almighty. Would God even listen to him? The clouds above him broke, allowing a shaft of moonlight to fall on the railing in front of him. Was that a sign? He shook his head and continued, feeling suddenly foolish. “I’ve done many terrible things. I am not worthy of a single glance from You, but if You are there, if You’re listening, I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done, and I ask Your forgiveness in Christ’s name.” He gripped the railing and hung his head. Below him, the moonlight shimmered over the foam churning against the hull. Crystalline bubbles chuckled up at Kent, matching the newfound joy suddenly surging within him.
A sense of value melted over him—an unfamiliar feeling of approval and love. It spread across his shoulders like a warm cloak then rippled down his back. He looked up. Sterling fingers pushed back the clouds that had captured the full moon, framing their dark masses in silver lace. Pearly light draped over the Restitution, covering Kent in its glow. He swallowed a burst of emotion that threatened to fill his eyes with tears. “Father?” The shame, the horror of all the wicked things he had done seemed to lift from his shoulders, and he sank to his knees on the deck.
Some time later, the vulgar chortles of pirates jarred Kent back to the reality of the ship. He stood and clasped the railing as a splash of sea spray doused him in a baptism of his new faith. Bowing his head, he prayed for the safety and quick rescue of his son, and for Isabel. He dared not ask God for her hand, but at least he could pray for her safety and happiness. Then raising his gaze, he vowed to do everything in his power to keep her from marrying Sawkins.
Isabel emerged onto the main deck to a blast of hot air laden with the scent of fish, salt, and spicy tobacco. Raising her nose, she followed the aroma of the pipe until her gaze found Cutter, standing up on the foredeck. Hann sat on a barrel next to him. The two lovers engaged in a conversation full of grins and laughter as if no one else existed in the universe. Isabel couldn’t help but smile despite the sleepless night she’d spent pacing her cabin. Hann seemed much improved, and though Isabel longed to spend time with her new friends, she didn’t want to sour their happiness with her foul mood. Besides, she hoped to find a solitary place to pray. Though the sun had only risen an hour ago, the heat in her cabin had quickly transformed the tiny room into an oven, baking her within and making it difficult to breathe, let alone pray.
One quick scan of the ship told her the captain was not on deck—much to her relief. She wasn’t sure how she could face him after the kiss they’d shared last night. Lord Sawkins was nowhere to be seen either, but then he often slept late into the morning. Where had he been last night? Surely he had heard of her attack. News spread rapidly on a pirate ship, yet he had not come to ensure her safety.
Isabel skirted past a cluster of pirates and made her way up to the quarterdeck, heading toward the stern. Watching the ivory foam bubbling off the back of the ship always calmed her spirit.
Hoornes, manning the whipstaff, gave her a nod. “Good day to you, miss.”
“And to you, Mr. Hoornes,” she replied, causing a red hue to rise on the pirate’s hardened features. The rat squealed at her from his shoulder.
Smithy, Zeke, Gibbons, and two other pirates loitered up on the poop deck. Their gaz
es raked over her, and Isabel halted, deciding not to advance to the stern after all. Her stomach clenched, and she pressed a hand on it and darted to the starboard railing, ignoring the snickers behind her.
Isabel gripped the railing, wondering if it had been one of them who’d attacked her last night. Silently, she thanked God again for His deliverance even if it was in the form of Captain Carlton.
“Shorten the main.” The captain’s imperious voice drew her gaze to the main deck where he stood, hands on his hips, staring up into the shrouds of the mainmast. He lowered his face, and their eyes locked. A gust of wind sent his white shirt flapping and his dark hair dancing wildly about him. His lips curved in a sultry smile, and Isabel turned to face the sea again, her heart fluttering in her chest. Oh Lord, keep my focus on Frederick and what’s best for him.
The sun, now a handbreadth over the horizon, flung gold onto the turquoise waves, setting the sea ablaze like a sparkling jewel. Isabel observed the chaotic jostle of each ocean swell—enslaved to the fickle blasts of wind. She wrung her hands over the moist, weathered wood of the railing. A twinge of pain blazed in her shoulder. Lord I don’t want to be tossed to and fro like these waves by each feeling or notion that comes my way. Make me as sturdy as this ship and keep me set on the right course.
“Milady.” Kent’s deep voice startled Isabel from her thoughts and quickened her breath. Hoping to hide the effect he had on her, she avoided his gaze. “Captain.”
“I trust you slept well.”
“I did not, thank you.” She glanced up at him.
His mouth curved in a teasing smile, and his gaze dropped to her lips. “Perhaps the excitement of our kiss kept you awake?”
The Restitution Page 23