Cain dismissed the lecture in favor of filtering through the jumbled mess of memories and the thick haze that plagued his mind. “What time is it?”
“A bit past dawn. Four bells into morning watch.”
As Cain tried to fill in the gaps in his memory, Drake laughed once again. “Up with you. There’s work to be done. Treasure to log, shares to be assigned, and Nassau waits for us tonight.”
Work. As if he could think about work, when he couldn’t get his brain to send the right messages to his body. But nevertheless, Drake was right. Duty demanded his attention. He should have been in the hold recording shares last night, as opposed to drinking India off his mind.
An attempt which hadn’t worked in any meaningful manner. Her face rose in his memory at the mere thought of her, and her throaty murmurs of pleasure filled his ears. His body remained every bit as tight as it had been when he’d left her.
He groaned again and leaned forward to gain strength from the sturdy wooden table.
Drake laughed once more and mussed Cain’s hair. Yet before Cain could recoil and punish Drake’s insolence with another bitter insult, in a generous manner, quite uncustomary for Drake, he offered, “I’ll see to your rounds on the deck.”
Mistrusting the generosity, Cain peered through his fingers. “You’ll what?”
White teeth peeked through a wide grin, and Drake shook his head. “Go, Cain. My bed is empty, since you seem to be avoidin’ yours. Perhaps undistracted sleep will relieve you of your morose moods.” As an afterthought he added, “Though it seems unlikely, when you refuse to address the cause.”
Sleep. Sweet Merciful Mary, Cain hadn’t heard such a blissful offer in months. Though he knew he ought to protest, ought to force himself to labor, he couldn’t unravel his tongue enough to argue. Instead, he pushed to his feet.
The room swayed like a violent storm had set upon them, and Cain clutched at the table to prevent himself from toppling over. Drake grabbed his elbow, but Cain’s lack of faculties provoked his pride. He jerked his arm free with a disgusted mutter. Perhaps two years had passed since he’d indulged so thoroughly, but he hadn’t forgotten drunkenness enough to fail to remember how stand on his own legs.
He stumbled past Drake toward the stairs to the sound of hearty chuckling.
****
As the low, monotonous drone of six bells reverberated through the cabin’s walls, India gave up the notion of sleep. Not that she’d had much between the argument that replayed in her dreams and the occasional interruption of a man’s shout from the decks. The sounds didn’t usually bother her. Tonight, however, it seemed as if every creaky board jerked her into wakefulness and it required another intolerable span of time before she could close her eyes and try again.
She scooted to a sitting position in the great bed and rested her head on the headboard. How had something so right gone so completely wrong? She asked herself the question for the hundredth time. As it had each previous occurrence, the answer eluded her. Try as she might, she couldn’t understand how Cain could read so much into such a small slip of the tongue. Had she uttered another man’s name, yes, she could understand his coldness. But his own name?
With a shake of her head, she let out a sigh. No use sitting and stewing. Better to get up and do something. Let the morning take on another few hours and then track Cain down for answers.
As she swung her legs off the side of the bed, a knock sounded from the door. She froze, yesterday’s fear returning to clamp a vise around her chest.
Don’t be a goose. No one intent on hurting you would knock.
Not entirely convinced by logic, she stopped at the desk to palm the letter opener before she moved to the door and opened it a crack.
“Princess?” Drake asked with a warm smile. “I thought you might like to give the decks another try.”
“Oh.” Dumbfounded by the offer, she stumbled over her tongue. Drake had come to escort her? Her brows furrowed as she put two and two together and deduced Cain must still be angry.
Very well, she’d leave the cabin and put herself in his path, where he would have to confront her. If they must argue, and he wouldn’t give her the privacy of the cabin, she wouldn’t bother with holding her tongue in front of the crew.
She gave Drake a nod and fumbled for a smile. “Yes. I’d like that. Give me a moment to dress.”
As she eased the door shut, the impropriety of her clothing dawned on her fully. She’d just answered the door and talked to a man, all the while wearing only Cain’s oversized shirt. And she hadn’t cared. Hadn’t felt the least bit embarrassed.
A renegade giggle crept up her throat and slipped past her lips. Oh Dear Lord, what would her father say if he could see her now?
It occurred to her then, she no longer cared. For the first time in her life, she was free to do what she pleased, how she pleased, and when she pleased. All the social constraints she’d worked so hard to master and meant so much to her father, she’d don when she set foot in England. But until that date, she intended to sate her curiosity. If that meant throwing off the chains of respectability, then so be it.
Humming to herself, she donned her trousers, shucked the shirt she’d slept in and slid into the smaller one with bloodstains on the sleeve. She grabbed a clean bandana from a loop attached to the wall near Cain’s bed. With three quick turns of her wrists, she fastened it atop her head and tied her long hair into a knot to keep it from falling over her shoulders.
As ready as she’d ever be, she stepped into the hall. Drake met her with lifted eyebrows. His gaze swept from head to toe in less time than it took to blink, and he gave a slow nod of approval. “You’re beginnin’ to wear a seaman’s garb quite naturally.”
She accepted his offered arm with a chuckle. “My wardrobe is a bit sparse, I fear. It seems there wasn’t room for it aboard that tiny row boat.”
“Tiny?” Drake scoffed. “I’ll have you know that particular dinghy can seat twelve men.”
India wrinkled her nose and flashed him a conspiratorial grin. “Perhaps if it sat fifteen it might be useful.”
Laughing, Drake set his hand atop the back of hers and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Ah, dear India, it’s no wonder you plague Cain so. I say, if I weren’t already bedfellows with another, you’d be in a great deal of trouble.”
At the mention of Cain, India’s heart tripped. She tried to cover the erratic nature of her pulse by focusing on the doors ahead. But the thought that Cain might be standing on the decks beyond, the morning sun on his bare back and his dark hair begging for her fingers to rake it into place, set off butterflies in her belly. She willed the nervousness from her voice, hoped Drake wouldn’t notice her eagerness. “Where is the good captain this morning?”
“I imagine he’s still sleepin’.” Drake ushered her through the door onto a deck far quieter than the one she’d set foot on the previous day.
Though India pretended to glance about with interest, she dwelled on the fact Cain was still abed. Had he too suffered the same disquiet she had? If so, did that mean he had come to care for her in some way? She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the tall sails as she asked, “He was up late then?”
Drake lowered his head closer to her ear. “It won’t work, princess. If you wish to know about Cain, you needn’t hide behind polite inquiries.”
Caught off guard, she forgot all the reasons she shouldn’t want Drake to know that Cain’s whereabouts concerned her. Her mouth dropped open in stunned surprise.
Smirking, Drake placed a finger beneath her chin and gently closed her jaw. “That look resembles a fish out of water. Shall we pitch you over to wet your gills?”
Hot color raced to her cheeks. Oh good heavens, she’d die of shame, had he been anyone else. “H-how did you know?”
“Your shoulders are as stiff as iron.” He guided her beneath the taut bowline and steered her to the larboard rail. “You need a lesson on pirate behavior.”
“I do?”
“Aye
.” Drake released her hand and leaned his elbows on the rail. Facing the inner guts of the deck, he stretched out long legs and tossed one ankle over the other, lounging much like a king surveying his kingdom. After a few moments of contemplative silence, he casually pointed across the way to where two men knelt together over a large piece of canvas spread out on the deck. “Those men hate each other.”
India squinted at the pair, trying to decipher what about their body language would give Drake the idea they didn’t get along. For all intents and purposes, they worked efficiently. No glowers passed between them. They didn’t avoid contact, or give each other a wide berth. Perplexed, she looked to Drake for an explanation.
“Both are master riggers. One belongs on my crew, the other on Cain’s. They work together out of necessity. One sets eyelets, the other affixes robands. Would you care to guess why they don’t bicker?”
“Because they fear punishment?”
Drake shook his head. “Neither gives a damn about punishment.”
“Then why?”
He looked down at her, a twinkle in his eyes. “Because pirates, princess, speak plain with each other. On meeting, Hatchet informed Two-Toes he wanted nothing else but to put a ball between his eyes. Two-Toes made it plain he’d prefer to slice Hatchet’s throat.”
India choked on her surprise. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared at Drake wide-eyed.
Drake’s one-shoulder shrug spoke to his indifference. “We don’t bother with wonderin’ what our mates might do when we turn our backs. Makes for a far more peaceful crew. They don’t have to be polite. An’ wouldn’t think of doin’ so.”
She chewed on a fingernail, trying to process the information. In society, one never knew exactly what a peer thought. On at least two occasions that she could think of, the underlying tension between two rivals caused such discomfort at a garden party, no one dared to jest. The entire afternoon spoiled out of fear that if one man said the wrong word, issued an inadvertent insult, fists might fly. Had the men made their dislike plain, they could have avoided one another, or as was more common practice, resolved the matter privately. Here, the sailors had no choice. They depended on each other.
“So as long as they interact with one another for the purpose of duty, there is no trouble?”
“Aye. An’ they avoid one another below decks.” He paused for a moment, looking back to the pair. “I suppose, a bit of the sayin’ keep your enemy closer, might apply as well. There can be no surprise attack if they stand side-by-side.”
That she could certainly understand. If she’d attended the merger meetings with her father instead of depending on Richard to act in her interests, North Atlantic Freight wouldn’t be transporting slaves. Then again, at the time, she hadn’t known Richard was her enemy.
“Lesson two, princess—never trust a pirate.”
Drake’s sudden declaration was such a contrast to the idea of speaking plain to one another, India’s features scrunched together in confusion. What difference did it make if one man voiced his hatred, if his word couldn’t be trusted?
As if Drake had heard the question inside her head, he added, “True, there’s some degree of trust afforded. But in general, realize there’s always a way to twist words so the meanin’ fits an opposite purpose.”
Like Slater had done to her. At once her humiliation returned. Ashamed, she dropped her gaze to her feet. If she’d listened, really listened, to what Slater said, she’d have realized his intent long before Drake arrived to rescue her.
“Don’t be deceived by appearances. While Hatchet and Two-Toes look content enough, were you to stand closer, you would see their eyes do not follow their own hands, but the other’s. Watching for a slip. A turn of a wrist. A knife to slide a bit too far out of place.”
The way Cain had watched Slater. He’d calculated opportunity. Anticipated Slater’s strikes. It had seemed such a natural part of battle, she hadn’t really paid it much attention. But now Cain’s victory took on new meaning.
As did the look in Drake’s eyes. He studied her so intently that she suspected he was waiting for her to grasp some unspoken part of his speech. Under the heavy weight of his stare, she stepped through the details of their short conversation. It began when she tried to fish for information about…
Cain. Drake was telling her something important about Cain. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to piece his lecture into place. The idea of speaking what was on her mind to a mere acquaintance held appeal, but the habit was unacceptable. Still, she wanted answers, and of all the people she knew, Drake was least likely to lead her around by the nose. Hesitantly, she took a chance and asked, “Is Cain angry with me still?”
A smile crinkled the corners of Drake’s eyes. “Am I the one you should ask?”
She shook her head, catching on to his leading method of questioning. “No. You’d only have presumptions. If I wish to know the truth, then I should ask Cain.”
With a cock-sure smirk, Drake patted her on the head. “You have potential, princess.”
India rolled her eyes, then gasped at her bold display of disrespect. But when Drake burst into laughter, her mortification fled, and she caught his good humor. Despite herself, she grinned.
“Allow me to give you a parcel of advice. But come this way, if I remember correctly, idle hands don’t suit you.” Drake straightened and caught her by the wrist. He led her toward the center of the ship. As he walked, he talked. “The gentleman cannot curb the pirate.” He pushed a thick line out of their way and held it over his head as she passed under. “The pirate cannot rid himself of the gentleman.”
A more accurate description of Cain, she couldn’t imagine. India nodded.
Drake steered her around the mizzenmast, across the short distance to the foremast. There, he stopped, a handful of paces away from a man who scrubbed the decks with a hard bristled brush. White froth gathered on the planks to gradually assume a shade of dirt-stained grey.
Drake set his hands on her shoulders and gave her a meaningful stare. “Forget the pirate and the gentleman. Appease the man.”
He pulled her forward until her feet were mere inches from the working sailor’s head. “Redhand, Miss Prescott wishes to learn deck maintenance. I trust you can see to her tutorin’?”
The blond man reared back on his haunches, his expression grim. “Aye.”
“Good then. Should you abuse her, I know a bosun who yearns to use his cat.” Drake turned to leave.
India caught his elbow. “Wait. What did you mean?”
One thick eyebrow rose, and his mouth twitched with unspent laughter. “Princess, in case it escapes you, you’re a woman.” His gaze fell pointedly on her breasts. “There’s only one language man and woman speak where they both hear the same meanin’.”
As a little thrill of shameful excitement skittered down her spine, India averted her gaze to hide her unexpected reaction. She should be embarrassed. Horrified a man would make such a direct reference to intimate relations. Not excited by the prospect.
Drake’s laughter enveloped her. “Spare me your modesty. You’ll not convince me you’re a fragile flower.” He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her head up to look her in the eyes. “If you are, you’ll never satisfy a pirate. Even if he’s only half.”
351
Bound By Decency
21
India’s back ached from the effort of scrubbing the planks. The burn had set into her arms shortly after she joined Redhand on her knees and slowly spread into her shoulders. At the passing of an hour—around the time Redhand claimed a need to relieve himself at the head—every muscle of her body screamed. Including her knees, which were as bruised as if she’d crawled across a mile of sharp rocks.
She rocked back on her heels and wiped the perspiration from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Her gaze traveled the path Redhand had taken. He’d bamboozled her, as surely as Reggie had. She should have seen his desertion coming, given the way he complained about the
labor. With Drake’s recent lecture, Redhand’s belly-aching should have set her senses on alert.
But the truth of the matter was, Drake’s last words preoccupied her mind. You’ll not satisfy a pirate. Like a gauntlet thrown at her feet, he challenged her pride. If she hadn’t wanted Cain before, that little taunt would have pushed her into full-bore pursuit.
She did want Cain and all the incredible pleasure her memory knew but her body had forgotten. Yet Drake planted a seed of doubt. Appease the man—she’d tried and failed miserably. Just what was she supposed to do now? Track Cain down, corner him in the cabin, and strip him bare? Throw herself at him so he could reject her again?
Hardly.
While she wasn’t opposed to a bit of honest conversation, the notion of opening herself to Cain’s humiliation a second time made her stomach churn. She’d rather jump overboard amidst a pack of Great Whites.
She scanned the decks for a glimpse of her tardy captain. When she failed to discover him amongst the men, her shoulders sagged. One shift change had passed. The men now on deck held their positions for a good two hours, gauging by the alignment of the sun. Most likely Cain sought to avoid her.
On the quarterdeck, she caught sight of Drake. He leaned on the rail that overlooked the deck, his eyes on her. The same self-satisfied smirk she’d come to associate with him danced on his mouth.
Sweet Mary, he knew! She couldn’t explain how or why, but that damnable grin broadcasted his knowledge of Redhand’s swindling. Annoyed beyond all measure, she dropped her brush into the pail of dingy water and pursed her lips. The rat. She should have known better than to trust him, for he was the one who arranged this back-breaking work. Perhaps he’d even convinced Redhand to abandon her.
As she watched, Drake descended the ladder and struck a path straight for her. She folded her arms over her chest, intent on giving him a good piece of her mind. If he protested, she’d remind him about his speech on plain talk.
His bare feet stopped at her knees. “Have you come up with a scheme?”
Bound by Decency Page 19