Bound by Decency

by Claire Ashgrove

  Again, surprise passed across Cain’s face, and she saw a man who’d struggled to attain respect, never quite realizing he had achieved it. He’d come so far from the lawless pirate he’d once been. Could become so much more if she could just convince him out of this plan for revenge. With Richard’s crimes exposed, Cain stood to gain a partnership that would quickly grant him power in an elite circle of wealthy, influential tradesmen.

  The ladder creaked, and India looked up to see Drake climbing down. She fell silent. It would be useless to discuss the merits of turning Richard over to the authorities in front of Drake. Cain didn’t want to listen when they were alone. He’d never let her finish her thought in front of his trouble-making cohort.

  Drake glanced between them, then swept his gaze across the room. “I’m not interruptin’ am I?”

  India rolled her eyes and mounted the ladder. She’d bet her entire inheritance those dancing dark eyes wanted to interrupt. Scoundrel didn’t begin to describe the cocky quartermaster. The woman who tolerated him would have to possess an angel’s infinite patience. Otherwise, she’d go crazy trying to anticipate what he might do next. Sink a ship. Rob the King. Seduce a nun. Drake knew no boundaries. It was amazing Cain tolerated him at all.

  “I’ll bring our meal,” Cain called after her.

  When she was once again cloistered in his comfortable cabin, she sat down at his desk and unrolled a time-stained map. Different colors of ink plotted points across the Atlantic Sea, through the Indian Ocean, and two red dots marked the port of Singapore and an unnamed island farther south. A large green circle encompassed the island conglomeration of the Bahamas.

  India picked up Cain’s letter opener and laid it on the map. The handle rested on Nassau. The deadly point reached for Bordeaux, France. Then she shifted the thin blade to gauge the distance between Nassau and England. It would take Cain almost as long to reach Richard, as it would to return her home. The most direct route, should he learn of Richard’s location, would place Cain directly in the path of not only Britain’s Navy, but also Spain’s and Portugal’s.

  She pushed the opener aside and let the map roll in on itself. If Cain ever found Richard, he’d sail right into a death trap. One glimpse of the Roger he arrogantly boasted, and cannons would fire until nothing remained of The Kraken. She couldn’t allow that to happen. The conniving, double-crossing Richard wasn’t worth one good man’s life. And whatever Cain might have been before, goodness reigned inside him now. She’d stake her life on it.

  Everything boiled down to convincing him to go to the authorities. Two years of honest work proved him worthy of a pardon. Someone would listen. Someone would see reason and excuse his prior offenses.

  If he’d only come around.

  Restless energy swamped her, and she shoved out of the chair to pace the long planks in front of his shelves. As she walked, she chewed on her thumbnail. Her father possessed the kind of influence that could garner him a pardon. It would take some doing, particularly given that Cain had kidnapped her, but he was a reasonable man. Not the sort to react on emotion once logical fact had been presented.

  She stopped abruptly, her spirits taking flight. That was exactly what she’d do—speak to her father, help clear Cain’s name from these recent events, and then convince her father to speak to his governmental friends. The only chore that remained was getting Cain to agree.

  She’d start that battle tonight. Over dinner. When she had Cain all to herself and the crew caroused on the wharf. If it became absolutely necessary, she’d use Drake’s veiled suggestion to employ her body and coerce Cain’s baser nature.

  Somewhere he was vulnerable. By the time sunrise came, India intended to know Cain’s Achilles heel.

  Feeling as if she’d finally discovered a purpose worthy of her efforts, and to say the least a little intimidated at the daunting task, India hurried to the warped tin mounted on the wall and surveyed her reflection. Her sunburn added color to her cheeks, a stain that would have mortified her a month ago. Now the subtle pink marked the changes she’d made in her outlook on life. It fueled her drive. Stated for all to see that she was no longer the refined, polite, society miss destined only to make a suitable match with a husband and devote herself to a mundane life of overseeing households and raising children. She would have more than that, and she didn’t care who turned up their noses or whispered behind their hands.

  She removed her bandana and finger-combed her tangled hair. When it hung in a thick mass around her shoulders, she stepped away, having done all she could to tame the locks into a manageable mane. It wasn’t much, but at least she didn’t look like Medusa. She shed her shirt in favor of the cleaner, looser one she’d slept in the night before. If she had to stoop to seduction, she’d employ every advantage.

  Satisfied she’d groomed herself to the best of her constraints, she went to the shelves to pass the time with one of Cain’s colorfully bound books. In no particular mood for any certain piece, she reached for a reddish-brown spine. But as her fingertips made contact with the binding, a glimmer from the corner of her eye diverted her attention. She released the book and squinted at the trinket.

  Jewels, far richer and brighter than she’d ever laid her eyes on, sparkled against a golden bed of filigree handiwork. Monarchial engraved leaves added flourish around a sapphire cabochon larger than the St. Edward’s. In typical fashion of royalty, the prominent gem was framed by two smaller, yet equally outstanding, uncut rubies. Adding to the box’s ostentation, the entire lid boasted so many small diamonds it would take several hours to count them all.

  India stared, wanting to reach out and touch the magnificence, yet terrified by the very prospect. Where in the world had Cain discovered such a trophy? A box so lavish couldn’t hold anything ordinary. Gems? Coins? Relics? Her mind worked in double-time as the possibilities surfaced. Maybe the key was affixed to the underside.

  The door opened, halting her hand as she reached for the box. She grabbed the closest book and forced herself not to whip around like a burglar caught in the act. Summoning her most amicable smile, she turned to greet Cain. “That didn’t take long.”

  “No. Drake’s well accustomed to the matter of allocating shares.” He lifted the tray he carried. It was laden with an array of varying dishes, none of which India recognized. With a flourish, he set it atop his desk and bowed over the dishes. “Grouper chowder, fresh-caught this morning. Will you, madam?” He swept his arm toward the velvet-covered armchair.

  Unable to hold back a giggle, India drew the chair close to his desk and dropped into it. “You’re in good spirits.”

  “Aye. We have reached Nassau, where cutthroats and thieves abound and the Navies do not dare to come. For a while I have no cause to worry about my neck.”

  She pursed her lips and scolded with a half-hearted frown. “I want to talk to you about that, Cain. I’ve been thinking, and I—”

  “Don’t spoil the first fresh meal I’ve had in months with your need to lead me to a better life.” He set a bowl of steaming chowder before her, along with two large, battered fritters. “Dip the conch fritters in your broth.”

  With a flash of his devastatingly handsome smile, he eased into his chair and lifted his spoon. “Eat, little wren. You’re still shy a pound or two.”

  351

  Bound By Decency

  23

  “It’s really quite simple, Cain.” India leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap.

  Determined to make their last few hours together as amicable as possible, Cain relented with an inward sigh. She would have him listen, and unless he wanted their time to conclude with an argument, he could find no other excuses to put her off. “Very well, what is this simple strategy you’ve plotted?”

  “Come back to England with me.”

  He laughed. “Offer my neck on a silver platter?”

  She shot him a look that said she wasn’t the least bit amused. “Allow me to finish. If you return me the same way you s
tole me, the authorities will never be the wiser. Drake can take The Kraken back to sea until you have use for her again.”

  “And I can hide in your wardrobe to surprise your father?” He couldn’t control the grin that tugged at his mouth. The idea, although strangely compelling, bordered on insanity. Not only would her father have every man in the county waiting to drag him off to Newgate to hang as a pirate, he’d demand justice for India’s ruination.

  “Would you be serious, Cain?” she cried in exasperation. “My father is a rational man. Once he learns what Richard’s done, all of this will be meaningless.”

  “And my attack on the sloop?” he challenged in a low voice, his good humor fading.

  She waived a dismissive hand. “Necessity.”

  Cain arched an eyebrow. “Necessity? I hardly call attacking a ship that posed no threat a necessity. Are you suggesting, India Prescott, that I should lie?” The very idea she would suggest something so untoward didn’t settle well with him.

  “Not lie. Omit a few things. Who is to say whether they attacked you, or you attacked them? There is nothing left of the ship.”

  He pushed out of the chair and strode to the shelves to stare at the objects he’d collected through his many years at sea. It disturbed him to hear her so willing to compromise the goodness in her nature. Worse, he couldn’t understand why she would go to such lengths. Because she harbored fantastic ideals about his grand return to the life of Teddy? Or because she had come to care for him in some small measure?

  “What if I don’t wish to give up the notion of killing Richard?”

  “You can’t be serious!” She twisted around in her chair, her expression incredulous. “You would doom yourself when other options are available? What can be more fit punishment than total ruination? It is the same as he’s done to you. Only you would have a future, while the only wealth he’d ever see are the coins he begged off the street.”

  She had a point, and Cain would be a fool to deny it. Ruining Richard, while subsequently reclaiming his own status, would be a greater victory than even slicing Richard’s throat. The problem was, India sparked too much hope. He didn’t dare believe in a theory that held so many ifs. If they found Richard. If her father believed. If someone would grant a pardon. Too many insurmountable risks loomed to ever believe he’d find more than disappointment at the end of her proposed course.

  “Cain? What do you think? Will you give it a try?”

  He picked up the jeweled box and turned it over in his hands, watching the play of lights across the polished stones. “I think you’ve missed several critical elements.”

  “Oh?”

  “The years before this—how do you excuse those crimes? They were the ones that tied the rope around my neck.”

  She furrowed her brows and sighed. “Your years of peacefulness and honest trade illustrate you’re worthy of the pardon. You wouldn’t be the first pirate offered multiple releases.”

  No, he wouldn’t. Of all the objections he had to her plan, the Royal Pardon was the least concerning. Her father possessed the means and influence, of that Cain had no doubt. It wasn’t a matter of if William Prescott could, but if he would.

  Then there was the most daunting obstacle—the matter of proof. He gave the box another turn and tilted it so the sapphire caught the light. Veins of deep pink glowed within the large cabochon. More quietly he added, “There is no proof of Richard’s crimes, India. It’s my word—that of a known pirate—against his, a respected member of society from good breeding.”

  “But there are the logs! My records. I will gladly hand the ledgers over.”

  He looked to her with a sad half-smile. “And who is to prove who wrote the entries? There is no record of his name. It could be Richard, it could be a man in your employ. Unless that man is willing to sacrifice his employment and confess to double-crossing you, no one will believe either one of us.”

  At her crestfallen expression, he motioned for her to join him. She rose from the chair, her steps heavy as she crossed to his side. Cain looped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. Her warmth enveloped him in a heartbeat. Aching for her all over again, he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It was sound logic, India,” he murmured, “But it will not work.”

  She shook her head, stubborn and unbending. “I will find a way to make it work, Cain. I just need more time to think things through.”

  Time she wouldn’t have, for he intended to pull anchor and sail away once he delivered her to Old Bess and his men returned to The Kraken. “You work it out, little wren,” he encouraged, although he knew it would be futile. “I have no doubt you’ll find a solution.”

  One slender hand fell over his, drawing his attention back to the box in his hands. At her insistent tug, he brought it to the light.

  She plucked it from his fingers. “What is this?”

  “That, my sweet, is a piece of Spain’s fortune.” He gently removed it from her grasp and returned it to its place on the shelf. “Henry Jennings acquired it very legitimately while working for His Majesty against the Spanish. He commandeered, shall we say, King Phillip’s French inheritance, bound for Spain, upon Louis’ death, six years ago.”

  Turquoise eyes filled with wonder as India tipped her head and lifted her gaze to his. “So it is royal, then. You’ve mentioned Jennings before.”

  “Aye. I signed onto his ship eight years ago, my first voyage as a man, without the guidance of my father. I was twenty and full of piss and vinegar. Anxious to run the Spanish into the ground. Jennings took me under his wing. When the war ended four years later, I struck off on my own with Richard. Jennings gave this to me. Said it had brought him luck.”

  He rubbed his hand down the length of India’s arm, the feel of her soft curves pressing into his side a sensation far more heady than any fine wine. In quiet conversation like this, he could almost believe in her fairy tale of a decent life. See her curled in his bed. Hear her words of greeting in the morn. Envision nights of passion in their bed. Cain sighed softly and yielded to the bittersweet thought.

  “What’s in it?”

  The simple question was enough to erase his momentary melancholy. He chuckled. “I do not know. Jennings didn’t know either, and I won’t tempt the fates of good fortune to open it.”

  Impishness upturned the corners of her mouth and crinkled her eyes. “May I look then? I promise not to tell you.”

  Cain laughed soft and low. He shook his head. “Not tonight, little bird. It’s time we take you to Old Bess’s.”

  ****

  India tensed. She should ask Cain about his hasty retreat the previous night. Now, before something else could distract him or he found another way to evade her inquiries. But dinner had gone so well. His grumpiness fell away with each morsel of food. His smile came more frequently, and the comfortable closeness they shared returned. Bringing up a subject certain to dampen his good spirits seemed somehow wrong, no matter how it pressed on her.

  At the whispery brush of his warm lips against her hair, she decided the subject could wait a little longer. Perhaps a night at an inn, where he too could wash himself and shed the responsibilities of Captain, would see his mood even more improved with dawn.

  Drawn by a power greater than herself, India turned into his arms, and rose to tip-toe in search of his mouth. Their lips clung together, their breaths mingled. Then, with a low groan, Cain wound his arms around her waist and hauled her so close their bodies joined all the way down to their toes. The slow, velvety stroke of his tongue against hers made her stomach fall away. She clung to his shoulders and leaned into him, in need of his strength to stop the weakening of her knees. His teeth nipped the sensitive skin of her lower lip, and the sharp sting shot to her womb, spreading a pleasant tingle to the place between her legs.

  India’s fingers roamed over the broad expanse of his shoulders to the nape of his neck, where she twined them into the soft abundance of his long hair. The arm at her waist tighte
ned, and if it were possible, he molded her even closer. His other hand dropped to her bottom, his fingers kneading gently.

  Her languor twisted into something more keen and sharp. No part of her was immune to this man. From the clean scent of sage that clung to his skin, to the heat that radiated from his body, her senses fiercely awakened. The familiar ache began, low in her womb, spreading until she thought she might be turned inside out. Against her belly his arousal pressed with subtle insistence. Her hips instinctively undulated, and Cain’s mouth took on more demand.

  His hand tangled into her hair, tipping her head back and so he could graze his teeth down the length of her neck. His warm breath washed against her skin and sent a delightful shower of heat and cold down her spine that turned her flesh into goose bumps. Heaven above, how quickly what began as innocent could take such a dangerous turn. He was sinful and sweet, rogue and saint. And there was no one on this earth she wanted more.

  “Cain,” she whispered as he drew the lobe of her ear between his lips.

  As if he understood what she herself could not, he murmured, “Aye.”

  The magic ended as he tore himself away and took a step back, distancing their bodies. His eyes blazed bright cobalt. His breath came hard and fast, a matched counterpart to her own. With a long, slow blink he swallowed and composed himself. His hand slipped into hers. “Come along, little wren, time to fly the nest.”

  For the life of her, India couldn’t fathom why he’d want to leave when they could have indulged in this passion that raged between them. But though her knees trembled, she went along with his quiet order and fell into step at his side. Tonight, this madness would end. If she had to bang on every door to find his room, she would make amends for the unwitting mistake she created last night. Lovers they had once been, and lovers they would be again. Then, perhaps, she might stand a stronger chance at making him believe an eternal life at sea wasn’t his only option.