Cutlass

by T. M. Franklin

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh stop and tell me about this surprise.”

  Jonathan arched a brow. “Did you just stomp your foot at me?”

  “Jonathan!”

  “All right. All right.” He laughed, holding up his hands in defeat. “It’s in my quarters.”

  Sarina’s eyes narrowed dubiously, and Jonathan laughed again.

  “So suspicious. It’s appalling, really,” he said, shaking his head. “Relax, Smith. I’ll be staying here.” He spoke slowly, pointing at the deck, then to Sarina. “You can go to my quarters—alone—and see your surprise.”

  “Oh, all right then,” she said, flustered and blushing. Jonathan found he quite enjoyed Sarina flustered and blushing. She turned on her heel but only made it a few steps before turning back, her face flaming. “Thank you for the surprise,” she said, fidgeting with her fingers. “Whatever it is.” And with that, she hurried belowdecks.

  Jonathan chuckled, then turned toward a shout at the stern. He could spot Hutchins and a few others stripped down to their drawers and plunging off the side of the ship. Max approached, a wide smile on his face.

  “You going in?” he asked.

  The captain grinned and pulled off his shirt. “Aye,” he said, kicking aside his boots and unbuckling his belt. “I do believe I will.”

  As she made her way down the cool passageway belowdecks, Rina feared she might die of embarrassment. When Jonathan had said he had a surprise for her in his quarters, her mind had flown to all sorts of inappropriate ideas of what he might have had in mind. She thought she’d managed to hide her true thoughts, but she feared Jonathan had seen right through her.

  And he’d laughed.

  Of course he’d laughed.

  The idea that he might want from her what she was beginning to want from him? Well, it was ridiculous. A few stolen kisses were hardly an indication of further intent. He was a man, after all, and responding to a willing female was ingrained in their very bones.

  And she’d been more than willing.

  She stopped outside the door to the captain’s quarters, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off the rest of her mortification. Jonathan had told her she was a terrible liar, and she knew it was true. Her every emotion showed on her face. The only reason she succeeded in living aboard the Arrow as a boy for as long as she had was her ability to be unnoticeable . . . invisible. Nobody looked too closely at her, so she hadn’t had to rely on her deceptive abilities, or lack thereof. She feared it was only a matter of time before Jonathan became aware of her increasing attraction to him.

  Well, he was apparently already painfully aware of it, but she doubted he realized the extent of it. Because Rina was quickly coming to realize that what she felt for him had grown beyond mere attraction, or even admiration, into something she was leery to put a name to. She sighed, leaning forward to bump her forehead lightly on the door.

  What was she doing?

  Giving her heart to someone like Jonathan was like asking to have it crushed. She had nothing to offer him, and he had nothing he could give her in return. They were a match doomed to fail, and her only hope was to resist him. There was no alternative.

  But could she?

  The question answered itself when she walked into the captain’s quarters and spotted the bathtub in the middle of the floor, full of steaming, scented water. Not the usual tub for a brief wash with a damp cloth, either. No, this was a full-sized copper tub, polished to a sheen, a small table beside it holding soap and drying linens.

  “How . . .” she said to herself as she closed the door and crossed to the tub, trailing her fingers through the water. She smiled in delight, wondering when Jonathan had arranged for this special treat. Not willing to let a second of it go to waste, she undressed quickly and sank into the hot water with an indulgent sigh. She lathered up twice and washed her hair, dunking under the water to rinse, then lay back to enjoy a relaxing soak until the water chilled.

  Jonathan was quickly breaking down her defenses. It was a thought that echoed through her mind as she dressed—choosing the green gown over her shirt and breeches this time—then emerged on deck a short time later to the sounds of laughter and shouting. She held a lantern aloft as she surveyed the deck of the ship in the darkness, the newly risen moon casting a grayish tinge on her surroundings. She followed the sounds to the stern of the ship, finally leaning over the side to see what in the world was going on. She could just make out the bobbing figures in the water below, the crew members splashing in the gentle waves of the bay.

  “Peeping, Sarina?” She jumped as James appeared next to her. He laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She smiled at him, noticing his hair was wet, dripping onto his shirt. “It looks like you’ve been enjoying the sea as well.”

  He shrugged, leaning against the railing next to her. “It seems rare to have a moment for such things on this ship. I figured if everyone else was taking advantage of it, I should as well.” He reached out, lifting a damp strand of her hair with a questioning look.

  “Jonathan gave me a bath,” she said dreamily. At James’ wide-eyed gaze, she realized what she’d said. “I mean, he left me a bath. He had someone leave me a bath. Which I had. Alone. By myself.” James snorted and she smacked him in the arm. “You knew what I meant.”

  “Aye,” he said, still laughing softly. “I ran into the boys filling the tub earlier.”

  They turned to watch the men swimming below, and as the moon broke over the trees, Rina could see Jonathan’s head bobbing among the others, his teeth glinting with a wide smile. She wasn’t certain, but his head tilted up, almost as if he was looking back at her.

  “You’re getting on then?” James asked.

  “I’m sorry, what?” She tore her eyes away from Jonathan’s form to look at him.

  “You and the captain,” he clarified. “You seem to be getting on all right?”

  “Oh, yes. Fine, I suppose,” she said, Jonathan’s suspicions about James coming to mind suddenly. “And you? How are you getting on with him?”

  James blinked in surprise at the question. “All right,” he replied. “He’s a man of few words, but fair overall, I think.”

  Rina nodded in satisfaction. He hardly sounded as if he had a grudge against the captain. “And you’re happy on board?”

  He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Aye. Never thought I’d find a place on a pirate vessel, what with one taking my father and all, but Tremayne’s assured me I’ve a chance for vengeance.”

  “Vengeance.” She turned to him, surprised. “So he finally told you about Kane?”

  “You know of him?”

  She nodded, and James drew a deep breath. “I barely knew my father,” he said. “I’m sure it seems strange to you that I would want to avenge his death. It’s not for him, though, as much as for my mother. When he died . . .” He looked out over the water, eyes glistening in the moonlight.

  “Well, it almost killed her,” he said. “If Tremayne will give me a chance to repay Kane for that, well, I suppose I’ll stay with him. At least for a while.”

  “And then?”

  “Then? I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I don’t see a life on the water. Perhaps it’s a bit I, but I think someday I’d like a home. Maybe even a family.”

  She reached out to touch his arm comfortingly. “Why is that I?”

  James’ eyes fixed on her fingers. “I’m like these men. Wanted by the law for crimes against the Crown. It’s hard to see a future beyond that.”

  Rina’s heart sank at the words. For James. For Jonathan. For Max and Charlotte. For herself. So many people with their hopes bound by fate like an ever-tightening coil of rope. She sighed, squeezing his arm gently.

  “Don’t give up hope,” she encouraged him. “It’s only a matter of—“

  “Smith?” Jonathan’s voice interrupted her consoling speech, and Rina jumped in surprise, whirling around to face him. Her mouth dropped open and she found herse
lf unable to form words.

  Or even thoughts, for that matter.

  Jonathan stood before her, soaking wet and all but naked. She couldn’t control her gaze as it followed a rivulet of water dripping from his hair down his sculpted chest and along the angry scar running down his ribcage . . . to the thin cotton drawers that covered him from hip to knee. Or perhaps covered was over-stating it a bit. The wet fabric was nearly transparent where it clung to him along his hipbone, his thick thigh, the crease where he—

  Her eyes snapped up. At his smirk, they dropped back down to the deck. And Jonathan’s bare toes. His ankles, his knees . . . and back up—

  Good lord, she had to get a hold of herself. She spun around to focus on James. Yes, James was safe.

  “So, yes. Right,” she stammered, trying to remember what they were talking about.

  James watched her warily. “It’s only a matter of . . .” he reminded her.

  “Time!” she shouted gleefully. “Yes. Only a matter of time. That’s right.”

  “Bloody hell, Smith, what’s wrong with you?” Jonathan asked. Sarina hazarded a glance his way, relieved he had his back turned and was apparently fastening his breeches. He pulled a shirt over his head and turned back to face her. “I never took you for such a shrinking violet.”

  She bristled. “I’m no shrinking violet. But it’s hardly proper for a man to go about half-dressed.”

  “Since when have I ever been concerned with propriety?” He all but leered at her, and Rina’s face flamed. His gaze hardened as he turned to James.

  “Ceron? Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

  James ran a hand through his wet hair. “All finished, Captain. About to turn in for the night.” When he made no move to do so, Rina eyed him curiously, then Jonathan. The two men stared at each other, seeming to communicate through dark gazes but what, exactly, she couldn’t determine.

  After a long moment, Jonathan’s face tightened almost imperceptibly, then relaxed as he looked at her. “I’m to my quarters, then. Smith, would you care to join me for some dinner? I hear Victor has a pot of salmagundi on the hob. I choose not to ask what he puts in it, but it’s usually quite satisfying.” He scooped up his boots and coat as Sarina continued to stare at him in confusion.

  “Smith?”

  She started. “Yes,” she said. “That sounds fine. I’ll be along in a minute.” He nodded, then sent another significant look in James’ direction before heading toward his quarters, calling for a cabin boy to see to his food. Rina tried not to stare at the bottoms of his bare feet as he made his way across the deck, unsure why she found it so difficult to look away.

  She cleared her throat. “What was that all about?” she asked James.

  He laughed. “I should think it was obvious.” At her blank look, he rolled his eyes. “He’s making certain that I know my place.”

  “Your place?”

  “When it comes to you.”

  Rina had to think about that for a moment and when she ordained his meaning, she flushed. “Oh, well. He has to keep up appearances, you see. He doesn’t know that you know the truth about our relationship, such as it is.”

  “Mmm hmm. And that truth would be?”

  “You know.” She waved a hand dismissively. “That it’s only a ruse. For my protection.”

  James said nothing for a long while, and once she could no longer stand the silence, she peeked at him sideways to find him fighting a smile.

  “What?” she asked irritably.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “It’s the truth.” She stared stubbornly forward over the railing, eyes fixed on a tree in the distance. “There’s nothing more to it than that.”

  “Who are you trying to convince?” James asked quietly. She glared at him, and he held his hands up in front of him.

  “I mean no offense,” he said. “But I see the way you look at him, Sarina. And that’s no ruse.”

  She thought about denying it, but instead leaned forward on the railing, her head in her hands. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Not to everyone. But then again, not everyone has seen your reaction to the captain in his drawers.” He laughed and Rina groaned, covering her face in embarrassment.

  James sobered. “It must be difficult to live this deception for the crew and yet another for him.” At her silent response, he turned to lean sideways on the railing, eyeing her with concern. “I consider you a friend, Rina.”

  “And I, you,” she replied quietly.

  “Good,” he said. “And as your friend, I feel I must ask if you’re all right.”

  She turned to take in his black, somber gaze, and sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s foolish, isn’t it? To have such feelings for a man like him?”

  “Foolish? Perhaps,” he said, as they turned once again to look out over the railing, side by side. “Love is often foolish.”

  She choked slightly. “I said nothing of love.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  James’ words haunted her as she made her way back to Jonathan’s quarters. She’d acknowledged her attraction to the captain. Even the fact that she’d grown to like him.

  But love? Now that was a dangerous proposition. A terrifying proposition, to be perfectly honest.

  Rina took a deep breath, rubbing at the slight ache between her eyes. There was no denying it. She was getting into trouble when it came to Jonathan Tremayne, and efforts to guard herself against him seemed to prove fruitless time and time again. He kept taking her by surprise with a smile or a wink, disarming her when she most needed to protect her heart. She was quickly coming to suspect that she had no weapon against him, no way to avoid what now seemed unavoidable.

  It was a suspicion that leaned more toward a feeling when she walked into his quarters to find him pouring rum into a tankard, the table set for two with bowls of steaming salmagundi as well as a plate of fresh bread.

  And that feeling became more of a belief when he looked up at her, his handsome face cast in stark shadows by the lantern light as he pulled out a chair for her to sit.

  But it was when he reclined across from her, long legs extended and crossed at the ankles —and winked cheekily as she noticed his feet were still bare—that the belief became a full-fledged conviction.

  Yes, that was pretty much when Sarina Talbot realized she was done for.

  The expedition is on my heels, and I must divert its attention. Leading them astray proves time consuming, but essential. My efforts bear fruit, however. They have turned to Hispaniola, as I intended. On the morrow, I depart for the treasure’s true location.

  It will be mine.

  - The Journal of Simon Alistair Mellick, 14 September, 1665

  Jonathan lifted the tankard to his lips, watching Sarina across the table. She stirred her bowl of stew but had yet to take a bite, apparently lost in thought. She refused to meet his gaze. Refused, really, to look his way at all. In fact, every time her eyes hazarded a peek in his direction, she flushed and looked away as if she’d done something wrong, her spoon stirring a bit more violently.

  “Something bothering you, Smith?” He took a sip of rum and set his tankard down, idly running his finger around the rim. “You seem troubled.”

  She watched his finger’s slow circuit, blinking slowly. He paused, lifting his finger to his lips and rubbing them gently. She followed the movement, then her eyes widened and dropped back down to her salmagundi.

  Jonathan smiled. It appeared the lovely Miss Talbot was not unaffected by him, after all. He’d begun to wonder after her reaction to him on deck. At first, he thought her simply embarrassed—and he had to admit he reveled in that a little bit. It wasn’t easy to unsettle her, but for some reason, he found it extraordinarily satisfying. He shifted, uncrossing then re-crossing his ankles. Sarina watched him surreptitiously—or at least he imagined she thought it surreptitious. Her nervous swallow betrayed her, however.

  Jonathan decided to have a b
it of fun, schooling his expression into one of haughty irritation.

  “Blast it, Smith! Are you drunk again?”

  Sarina jumped. “What? No. Of course not.”

  “Well, then what in the world is wrong with you?” He broke off a piece of bread, dunking it into his stew and popping it into his mouth. He purposefully licked at an errant drop at the corner of his lips, fighting a smile at her gaping reaction. He dipped his finger into the stew and lifted it to his mouth, sucking it loudly as he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

  Sarina’s eyes narrowed as she finally caught on to his game. “Stop that.”

  He forced an innocent look. “Stop what?”

  “You know what.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” At that, he grinned and took another bite of his stew, washing it down with a sip of rum. “So, tell me, Smith,” he said, finally granting her a reprieve. “What do you plan to do with your share of the treasure?”

  She was silent for a moment, considering. “I’m not certain, actually,” she replied, sitting back in her chair. “I suppose I could go back to Boston, although there really isn’t anything there for me now.”

  Jonathan tilted his head. “No boring suitors anxiously awaiting your return?”

  Sarina’s eyes flashed. “And why would my suitors be boring?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Most suitors are, aren’t they? Any worth considering, that is.” He stood, swirling the rum in his tankard. “A man of good breeding, steady income, reliable, and trustworthy.”

  “You make those sound like bad things.”

  “Not bad, no,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder as he slowly paced across the room. “Just seems a bit tame for a wench such as yourself.” Jonathan didn’t know what made him say that, but he realized it was true. Sarina was unlike any female he’d ever encountered before—beautiful, of course, but also smart, stubborn and brave as any man. She needed someone wise enough to listen to her counsel, but strong enough to stand up to her lest she walk all over him.