Bound by Decency

by Claire Ashgrove

  India pushed his hands aside and rolled up the map. “And you will do what? Sail at her head on? Fire from the mouth of the cay? Aim to sink her? What will you do, Cain?”

  ****

  The cogs within Cain’s mind turned slowly as he grasped the meaning of India’s repeated query. He stared at her, feeling very much like a young boy taken to task for not completing his chores before embarking on a lark in the pond. He had not thought so far ahead to formulate the best strategy. Indeed, he had assumed Alex would govern the details concerning the recapture, the potential for devastating loss, one Cain wasn’t willing to assume. If his plan failed and Triton’s Jewel suffered irreparable damage, Alex would have his head. Better to allow the captain to sink one’s own ship.

  But India’s arched brow and the intense way she held his gaze, made bowing out of the matter impossible. She expected answers. In the back of his mind, he sensed this discourse was some sort of test. Over what exactly, he couldn’t say.

  When he didn’t answer fast enough for her liking, she cocked a hip against the desk and crossed her arms. The impatient gesture lifted her breasts. In the deep ‘v’ that her unfastened buttons created, he caught the high swell of soft flesh. He tore his gaze away before the image could wreck havoc on his mind and lifted his eyes to hers.

  “If you strike head on, she’ll see you coming.”

  “Aye. She’ll see us in either fashion.”

  “But will she know you are after her, or will she assume you are someone else seeking to restock before you move on?”

  He considered the question. Without knowing who stood at the helm, he couldn’t be certain whether his Roger would deter an attack. The mutineers had ousted Alex, proof enough of their brevity. Or foolery, perhaps. Who was to say they wouldn’t arrogantly attempt to overtake The Kraken?

  He made his decision in a snap. But curious what India might suggest, he leaned back in his chair and tossed an ankle atop his desk. “What do you have in mind?”

  She eased to sit beside his foot. “If you wanted to destroy her, the advantage lays with the cove. She can only go one way—past you. Her hull would be full of holes before she could strike full sail.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, impressed. What a curious mind his little wren possessed. Not only must she sate an unquenchable desire to know everything, she comprehended far more than some men who had been born at sea. How quickly she grasped the finer details. Like her ability with mathematics, she made what took years for some to understand look like a game for children.

  “Agreed,” he murmured.

  “If you draw her out to sea, you can bait her close. Allow her to approach from the stern. As she comes forward, strip her of her sails. Then she becomes a sitting duck.”

  “And her cannons? What of them?”

  India shrugged. “Arm yours with balls of lighted pitch, and she will be more worried about fire.”

  “Fire is a bit risky.” Otherwise, well done. All except for the part where she suggested to allow Triton’s Jewel to approach from the stern. They should come at her head, use the ship’s construction to their advantage. He gestured at the windows opposite from where they sat. “Do you see guns in here?”

  “No.”

  “Correct. There’s more distance from those windows to the first demi-culverin than there is from the head of the ship to the first basilisk—which is a heavier gun as well.” He lowered his foot and leaned forward to pick up a small wooden replica of a ship. With one finger, he traced the outline of the hull. “We are stronger at the head. Approach bow to bow and we protect our vulnerable areas.”

  “No,” India murmured. She held her arms in front of her, mimicking two ships in a line. “If this one is behind.” She shook her left arm. “And this one is ahead.” She shook her right. “Then when the second approaches the first, the first slowly comes about.” With a slight bend of her elbow, she emulated a ship’s turn. “Cannons strike to sails before the second can follow the change of course.” Repositioning her arms, she placed her fingers pointing toward one another. “If you come head to head, either one can make the turn and see it coming with enough time to react.”

  Cain frowned at her. She proposed sound theory, but practice beckoned a different outcome. “Risky.”

  “Mathematics,” she quipped with a grin. “And a touch of human nature.” Sliding off the desk, she dropped into his lap.

  Every muscle in Cain’s body tensed with awareness. At arms’ length he could convince himself she wasn’t half dressed. With her straddling his lap, he couldn’t hope to ignore the meager attire she wore. He slid his hands up her lithe thighs and settled them at her hips. “Human nature?” he murmured as he bent in to press a kiss against her throat.

  “If I’m facing you, I anticipate your actions.”

  “You do, you say?” He raked his teeth down her delicate skin. At the hollow where her neck and collarbone joined, he nipped.

  “Yes,” she murmured huskily.

  Cain nudged aside her gaping collar and swirled the tip of his tongue over the spot he had bitten. A shiver coursed through her. Her thighs tightened around his.

  “I am prepared for whatever you might do.”

  Prepared was she? The double entendre tempted him beyond all measure. Closing his eyes, he allowed her to engulf his senses. Alex, Triton’s Jewel, and strategy became meaningless compared to the sweet fragrance of India’s skin. His mouth moved lower, and as he dipped his tongue into the deep crease between her breasts, he slid his hand to the juncture of her thighs. Moisture met his fingertips.

  India moved against his hand. His cock responded, swelling to accommodate her silent request. God’s teeth, she made it impossible to think of anything but how he ached to be inside her. He removed his hand before he could succumb to the desire that boiled in his blood. Brushing his lips across her mouth he murmured, “We don’t have time for all the things I would like to do to you.”

  Reluctantly he let his hands fall away. Tonight, he reminded himself. Tonight when Alex was aboard and he could lock the door and refuse to answer.

  India looped her arms around his neck and gave him a playful grin. “Do we have time for a kiss?”

  Cain chuckled. “I suppose we could manage one kiss.”

  Her lips caught his, playful and light. He parted his and met the foray of her tongue. The dark flavor of spice and spirits clung to her mouth, but beneath the distinctive taste of rum lay something richer. Something stronger. Something that was India’s alone and held a greater power than any fermented drink.

  As he tangled his tongue with hers, a foreign pleasure fisted around his heart. This was what it was like to know a woman. Really know a woman. He had not made love to her in the final ultimate way that befit man and woman, and yet he knew her more intimately than if he had. He had come to understand not only her body, but her mind as well. And God help him, he craved more.

  More of whatever it was about her that he wanted to capture and hold on to until he no longer had breath in his body. The part of her soul that united Teddy and Cain and made him feel as if he could name without question where his place in life existed.

  It existed with her. Saint’s teeth, he was falling in love.

  The discovery so shocked him, he abruptly terminated the kiss. He couldn’t be in love with India Prescott. Absurd—they were as different as a doubloon and a pound. Two entirely different coins, minted in two entirely different countries, with two entirely different values.

  Desperate for a bit of fresh air that might unclench the fist around his lungs, he eased her off his lap and to her feet. “I need to be on the deck.” He rose, before he could change his mind. “You should rest. You’ll need it to meet Alex.”

  a

  Rest. Of all the absurd things. India could no more rest after that disarming kiss than she could lift the cargo in the hold. Nevertheless, she humored Cain with a nod. As he exited the room, she stretched out on the bed.

  What the devil had come over hi
m? One moment he was there, kissing her, an equal participant to the heavenly desire that burned between them. The next, he shut down like someone threw frigid water on his head.

  He could be the most confounding man. Just when she thought she understood him, he changed something so that she must keep guessing. Keep digging. Layer after layer—it seemed there was no limit to how deep he ran.

  She kicked a restless leg out and heaved a sigh.

  He’d liked her plan. Most of it, at least. That much she could take pride in—for once a man didn’t pat her on the head and dismiss her ideas. Cain listened with interest. He discussed and offered insight, unlike Richard and her father. He’d even offered praise, although that came with the gleam in his eyes not the precise words. But she’d come to understand that Cain’s emotions reflected in his gaze.

  She could accept his hasty retreat, knowing she’d pleased him. If she could please Cain, and quite possibly Drake, perhaps she could make an impression on Nightshade as well. Enough of one he’d excuse her presence and forego his penchant for death.

  Three of The Flying Gang—could she mingle with worse company?

  Yes, she hurried to answer before the fates could conspire. Royce could join them. Then she’d be surrounded by the full quartet. And the four of them together wasn’t something she ever wanted to witness. Perhaps from a distance, but never, never, aboard the same ship.

  351

  Bound By Decency

  29

  Bored with the quiet, India left the cabin. Quite some time ago, dawn lifted the heavy shadows and muted the lantern light. They had not slowed as far as she could tell, and judging from the relative silence on the decks, she doubted they were close to their intended destination. She’d ask Cain the cause of the delay, for this inevitable confrontation with Nightshade had begun to eat a hole in her stomach.

  She ventured down the narrow corridor onto the main deck and reconsidered her assumptions. Where she had expected to find the crew working at their usual posts, she found them gathered on the starboard rail, hands lifted to shield the sun from their eyes and staring at a nearby land mass. Perhaps they were not delayed at all.

  The silence, however, unnerved her. Hushed murmurs replaced strong voices. No lively chants rang out to keep their chores in cadence. They moved at a turtle’s pace, much like The Kraken herself.

  Turning a slow circle, India scanned the tops of the men’s heads for Cain and found him on the quarterdeck, beside Drake, brass spyglasses lifted in both men’s hands. Taking her cues from the quiet that surrounded her, she held in her greeting and grasped the nearby stair rail. Two steps into her climb, Cain reached out a hand.

  She accepted his offered aid with a smile. He helped her up the rest of the way, then returned to his task of looking at the shoreline.

  “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

  “Searching for signs of Alex. Smoke, a fire pit, a scrap of color that doesn’t belong.”

  India cocked an eyebrow. “You cannot just call out?

  “We could,” he answered with a chuckle. “But if there are any villains there, we’d have to take them on as well. Or perhaps invite a round of pistols.” He gave her a little smile, a knowing smile full of intimate words he wouldn’t say in front of Drake. “Did you rest?”

  With a shake of her head, she glanced up at the narrow poop deck, observing the helm stood unattended. “No one steers us?”

  Cain shot a look of reproach at Drake, who acknowledged it with a mutter. “It seems,” Cain answered slowly, “in his haste to leave the harbor, Drake left King behind. His mate put in a watch and rests. Stormy is in his bunk. Occupied.”

  India tried to hold in her grin, but it twitched at the corners of her mouth. Cain gave her a devilish wink. Shared secrets—nothing more could define them as lovers.

  Uncustomary warmth filtered through her blood. There was something grand about keeping confidences with a man. Especially confidences that involved the glorious way their bodies fit together.

  “Would you like to give it a try?”

  Absorbed by her thoughts, Cain’s question caught her off guard. She blinked. “Give what a try?”

  He nodded at the great spoked wheel that turned the rudder. “The helm.”

  She nearly jumped for joy. If Drake hadn’t been standing there, the scowl on his face as dark as thunderheads, she might have. Trying to keep the excitement from bleeding into her voice, she answered, “I’d love to.”

  “Up you go then. I believe Drake can get along by himself for a bit.” Cain took her hand and urged her onto the narrow stair.

  India scrambled up to the poop deck, feeling very much like a child on Christmas morn. Steer The Kraken. For one short moment in time she would be in utter control of the breathtaking ship. She, a woman, who two months ago, couldn’t tolerate the rocking motion of the sea.

  She turned to Cain, unable to hide her eagerness. “What do I do?”

  Sidling up behind her, he caught her hands and placed them on the spokes, near the position of the eleven and one on the face of a clock. His fingers lingered against the backs of her hands before he slid them away and tucked his chin into her shoulder. His breath warmed the side of her neck. “Just steer. Sight down the bowsprit. Keep her aimed where she’s pointed.”

  Rising to her toes, she squinted down the line of his arm. Alas, she couldn’t see. With a dejected sigh, she sank to her heels and shook her head. “I’m not tall enough.”

  “Here.” The warmth of his body fled as he backed away. He kicked an empty crate close. Bending to turn it upside down so the solid slats faced the sky, he grinned up at her. “Step up.”

  She put one tentative foot on the crate. When it held, she added the other. A good two feet taller now, she looked where he had pointed, and much to her delight, could see beyond the thick forecastle wastecloths.

  “Better?”

  “Perfect.”

  He stepped in close, enveloping her with his presence. The tops of his thighs touched the back of hers. His chest brushed her shoulder blades. And his arms, those strong, powerful arms, came around her to set his hands on the spokes beneath hers. “If she wiggles”—he gave the wheel a quick jerk side to side—“just hold her steady. She’ll pull on your arms, but the current here is gentle. She won’t fight you overmuch.”

  India nodded. She rolled her shoulders and relaxed her arms, marveling at the strange, surreal power that emanated off the wood in her palms. As if she could, if she so desired, control the very water they floated on. Such a difference it was, this holding the wheel, compared to standing on the deck and doing menial chores.

  She lost track of time as they inched along the coast. Cain remained behind her, gently correcting if she deviated too far from the desired course. He supplied random facts about sailing—how the wind affected the bow depending on whether they sailed into it or with it, the workings of the rudder far beneath the hull. More frequently than not, however, he remained silent, content to let her guide them, keen to her fascination with the duty.

  From this vantage, even the waves looked different. Crisper. Clearer. She caught sight of another whale, a small colony of dolphins, and a multitude of fish whose silver bellies glinted in the sunlight when they leapt out of the water. To her left, sandy beaches, whiter than even the Dover cliffs, stretched out endlessly. Dense green foliage rose beyond the alabaster dunes, full of the songs of birds and other unseen creatures. All around, the gentle lap and lull of the water filled her ears.

  “This is lovely,” she murmured, twisting her head to look at Cain.

  “It is.”

  “I could become used to this. The sea, the excitement, the freedom here.” She held his gaze, her expression softening. More quietly she added, “You.”

  Cain nuzzled her cheek, his eyes full of warm affection. India looked away, admiring her surroundings once again.

  Heaven. She looked upon it as certainly as she felt the sturdy wood beneath her hands. No wonder the ocean
possessed Cain’s heart. To die here, even at the bloody hands of pirates or by the Navy’s guns, would leave one standing before the eternal gates of paradise. How could a man chain himself to land when he had tasted this?

  How can I?

  The question rose unbidden and unwelcome. Yet though she tried to push it into a dark hole where it would lay forgotten, it refused to back down. Returning to England would be as dismal as being forced to spend the rest of her life in a cave, never to see the sun. The sun, salt, and wind had become part of her. Cain as well.

  The idea of having to part ways with him created a similar pain to the agony she’d felt at Slater’s hands. Still, a woman couldn’t live a life at sea. She could travel, journey across the ocean to distant lands, but the freedoms India had known these last few months she’d never experience again. Pirates might make an exception and allow a woman aboard now and then, but even they, with their lawless ways, wouldn’t abide by women underfoot indefinitely.

  “Ho there! Bring her in!”

  Drake’s deafening bellow ripped India from the wayward path of her longings. She jumped to attention, as did every other man in sight. The decks came to life, puppets controlled by an unseen master who had just returned to the strings.

  “Better allow me.” Cain gently nudged her aside.

  India surrendered the helm unwillingly. She leaned against the rail and watched as he gave the wheel a hard counter-clockwise turn. The muscles in his arms bulged as he cranked round and round, the tight lines on his face disclosed the effort. With a short, harsh huff, he braced his weight against the spokes and held it tight.

  Slowly the bowsprit came around to align the ship on a direct course for the shore. Cain backed off the wheel, guiding it until it met resistance and no longer spun with ease. Assuming a one-handed grip, he used his free arm to wipe sweat from his brow.

  “You’re sailing her straight at the shore?”