by C. K. Brooke
Abi rediscovered her voice in time to ask, “By whom?”
James looked up. “By yer father.”
“Oh.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“I doubt you recall it.” He paced on. “Indeed, I never knew Abner Clear sired any daughter. Kept you well-hidden, he did.”
It was only then Abi comprehended what a liability she must have been, all those years, a vulnerable maiden aboard Abner Clear’s ship. Still, he’d hidden her from his foes, seen to her protection.
“Our last encounter, some seven years ago,” James continued, “the one your father spoke of, was the last time I came close enough to attempt to take back my loot.”
“So, you only raided us,” Abi gathered, “because we first raided you.” It would come as no surprise to her; The Succubus invaded ships from time to time, of course. And in her youth, she wouldn’t have been aware of whom and what for.
His chin gave a stiff bob. “At the time, ’twas admittedly for my own gain—or regain. But my reasons for needin’ it back have…transformed.” He regarded her as he said this, and Abi felt a flush at her cheeks.
“Here’s the black-and-white of it, Abi. Five years ago, I grew tired of the trade and said enough with it. I offered to turn meself in, do whatever time was required to buy my freedom. Instead, the English Parliament promised that, if I returned the stolen gold to Great Britain, and rounded up a few former contemporaries to boot, me crew and I would be exonerated and permitted to live the rest of our days as simple sailors. Thus, they issued me a private warship and Letter of Marque—an Act of Pardon, if ye will. I’m reformed, see.”
“Not yet.” Abi studied her fingers. “You aren’t reformed until you prove it to the king by turning in the treasure. And…and…”
“Your father.”
She turned away, her nose stinging. She felt him come up behind her. Firmly, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “That’s why I needed him, needed the gold.” He spoke in her ear. “That’s why I sought to use you, to get to them.”
“So you were using me.”
“Not anymore.” Though she’d gone rigid, he steered her to face him. “I wish to restore my life. But now, I wish to do it with you.”
She shook her head incredulously. “By handing in my papa?”
“If I still planned to do that, I’d have had my crew seize him this evenin’. For yer sake, I refrained. Understand, I’d only targeted him out of sheer revenge. But we can go after someone else. Lord knows, the ocean sees more crooks than it needs.” He clasped her hand. “However,” he added, “if you want the future we spoke of, then your collaboration is required.”
“You need me to tell you where on Monhegan the treasure is buried,” Abi guessed glumly.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Keep in mind, ’tis not only your own fate at stake.”
“Let me ask you this.” She examined his hand on hers. “How do I know you’re telling the truth this time?” She pulled back her hand, and he reluctantly let it go. “How do I know this isn’t just another of your disguises?”
His answer was blunt. “You don’t.”
Abi pursed her lips. Fair enough.
“I won’t ask you to make a decision right now. Only consider helping my friends and me. Yerself too. The power lies with you.”
“I can’t let you harm my father.”
“I promise not to target him,” came James’s evasive reply. “But I can’t promise to keep away from Monhegan.”
Her head shot up. “But you must! My father will be guarding the island. He’ll kill you if you try—!”
“Then might you agree to be our ambassador?”
“You mean traitor?”
They watched each other, the energy between them charged. Abi’s thoughts were a whirlwind. Even if she wanted to help, she had no idea how to convince her father to return the treasure to the rival pirate from whom he’d stolen it. The only possible method she could conceive was to somehow sneak onto the island and snatch back the booty in stealth. She knew where the trunks were hidden. She might’ve even contemplated fetching them herself, were they not so heavy. Alas, it would require at least two men to carry each. If to be accomplished expediently, it would take a half-dozen members of James’s crew. And that would hardly be inconspicuous.
“You must be fatigued.” James changed the topic, gesturing to the back of the cabin. “I offer you my bed.”
Abi’s insides roiled at the fresh memory of that very afternoon, when they’d lain bare together in the tall grasses, on the verge of sharing love. And judging by the way in which James was moving closer to her, the memory was haunting him too.
She didn’t know where to look. Anywhere but at him. For, mere hours ago, this ruthless man would have consumed the only asset she possessed in the wide world—her virtue—without so much as revealing his true identity to her. How long had he planned to perpetuate the façade? Meanwhile, she’d have made love to her father’s sworn enemy and been none the wiser.
But then, was it really so different whether James Morrow was ‘Dagger Jim’ or a privateer captain? Or both? Either way, it was bad luck. And yet, she was already dancing on the precarious threshold of no return.
She recovered her senses. “No, thank you. I will retire to my own room.”
He gave her a dubious look. “You mean the supply closet?”
She shrugged. The place was comfortable enough.
He inched in, his shadow overwhelming her. “We don’t need to keep beating around the bush, Abi…”
“Oh, but we must.” Her voice weakened as he toyed with her hair, tracing hypnotic circles at the peak of her brow. “For it seems the closer I let you get to me, the more secrets you’re withholding.”
“I have told you all my secrets.”
“Have you?”
He cupped her chin, and Abi was too smitten to resist. “Let us not overlook the fact that you spent three days on that isle with me,” he brushed his bristling cheek against hers, “while giving no indication that the treasure was right under me nose.”
“And why would I have? I didn’t know your true motives.” She tensed in reluctant pleasure as he gingerly pecked the corners of her mouth. “I still don’t know your true motives,” she murmured.
He emitted a husky laugh, soft enough for her ears alone. With all the finesse of a bear, his coarse paws slipped down her waistband. “My motives should be obvious to you by now.”
Abi stayed his wrists before he could discover any lower than her navel. “And I’ve yet to determine my own, Jim.” With a meaningful look, she freed herself from him.
He barred her way to the door. “At least let me escort you to your…storeroom.” He spoke the word with disdain.
Abi fumbled with the lacing of her bodice. She wanted to object, but couldn’t see the harm in the request. Her mind swam as James ushered her out and guided her down the narrow hall. They passed the other cabins and rounded the bend, until coming to the nook at the end of the wall.
Abi was glad to find the little space more or less as she’d left it, albeit with the quilt rumpled and some of the netting on the shelves askew.
James halted in the sparse doorway. “Truly, you don’t have to bunk like this.”
“Ah, but truly, I do.” She shook out the quilt and straightened it. “A ship ain’t a very big place, Captain. And a crew notices everything.”
“Who cares what they notice?” He scowled.
“Sailors talk; surely you know that.” She folded down the quilt. “What if word gets back to my home ship that I’ve found a new bunkmate in Dagger Jim?”
The man emitted an unexpected chortle.
“Is something funny?” she snapped.
He rested a hand upon his knee. “Forgive me. It’s only that…well, you’re a wanted man’s daughter, yet you worry for your reputation?”
She surveyed him so icily, his grin froze off. “You think this is about propriety?” She shook her head. “It’s not my reputation I fea
r for, James. It is your neck.”
He stilled.
“I told you, my father will slit the throat of any man who touches me.” She lowered her voice. “Alone on the island, I didn’t perceive much of a risk. Alas, the same can’t be said here.”
His face was smooth. “Do I look afraid?”
He emerged through the doorway, and Abi bit back a giggle at his stubbornness. “Please.” She pressed a hand against his fibrous chest, trying to push him out. “Don’t give my father any more reasons to kill you.”
“One more kiss, then.” He framed her face between his hands. “And then I’ll be out of yer hair.”
Abi didn’t fight.
“I’ll admit, I had somethin’ else in mind fer tonight.” He nuzzled his nose over hers, smiling. “Especially considerin’ this afternoon.”
Her eyelids dropped as he planted kiss after sensual kiss over her mouth. He tasted like springtime, felt like rain. His eagerness increased until she felt certain he expected to pick up precisely where they’d left off, earlier at the pond.
Abi released him. “I have too much to think on.” She angled her face away, not wishing to subject herself to his disappointment. “You should go now.”
With a weighty sigh, the man relented. “Goodnight, then.” He inclined his head, his eyes unreadable. Abi closed the door behind him, and leaned up against it. She knew not how much longer she’d be able to refuse him. But her thoughts were too crowded for his caresses just then.
Though she longed to ruminate over the tumultuous transpirings of the day, sleep called out to her, above all else. With worn hands, Abi unlaced her bodice, placed it on one of the shelves, and collapsed atop the mat. Her eyes were shut, her breathing deep before she’d even finished pulling the quilt half-way to her chin.
***
Black-and-blue depths billowed ahead like an infinite midnight sky. Abi swam, her green skirts an eerie swirl around her as she parted the thick waters with each tiresome exertion of her arms. She was looking for something. It was nearby—she could sense it. Somewhere just beneath her. But how far down? Could she swim so deep?
She dove further into the inky darkness. Bubbles emerged from her mouth and nose, but her breathing was curiously easy. She squeezed her legs together and wiggled like a fish to complete her descent. There were shapes aglow, farther beneath her. She couldn’t make them out just yet. What she felt was more a sensation, a pulsing, with a slight ringing in the back of her ear.
A school of blue fish darted past. Particles of dust and light kaleidoscoped in and out of view as she wove past undersea stalks of seaweed. The ocean floor was just beneath her now. And littered over it, glittering serenely in bars and coins like golden ghosts, was…
Abi awoke in a cold sweat. Disoriented, she gazed about, assembling her surroundings. A crack of light crept in beneath the narrow door. It was already dawn.
She rubbed her forehead. She felt strongly as though she’d just been doing something important. Why, she had just made a critical discovery at the bottom of the ocean.
She sucked in a breath. At breakneck speed, Abi leapt from the mat and dashed out of the room. She hadn’t even bothered with her boots or bodice.
Her dream had spoken. She had found the solution.
Chapter 15
“Captain Morrow—Jim!”
Boots pounded the forecastle. James Morrow raised his head, bemused to see Abigail Clear, red hair shimmering beneath the golden sunrise, racing at him like a half-broke mustang. She looked warm from the folds of sleep, her blouse untucked and skirts wrinkled, though her endearingly disheveled appearance was in contrast to the determined set of her dainty jaw.
The man considered her as she joined him, exerted, at the helm. “And what brings you out here so early?”
“The Spanish galleon,” she panted. “You told me it sank, did you not?”
“Aye,” he replied slowly.
A gust of wind teased her hair into her face. She chased it back with an impatient hand. “And you said the bulk of the booty went down with it, to the bottom of the sea?”
This, he also affirmed.
“Where did it go down?” Her eyes were urgent.
“Somewhere off the Bay of Biscay,” James replied carefully, “a day from Bilbao’s coast.”
“Bilbao? As in Spain?”
He nodded.
“Do you know exactly where? Have you the coordinates?”
Captain Morrow didn’t respond immediately. He hated to let her down, especially considering the desperation on her face, as though her life depended on a yes. Mayhap she believed it did. But he’d begun to guess where the conversation was heading.
“Because if we can find the sunken galleon,” she beamed, “then you can recover the rest of the cargo from the ocean floor. Hand that in to the king!” She danced on her bare toes. “No need to return to Monhegan!”
Morrow exhaled. It wasn’t as though he’d never considered it before. But being sunken, it was as good as lost to him. “Love, you propose a rather costly and difficult venture,” he started to explain. “For one, I’ve no diving bell, nor a fleet fit to recover a sunken vessel from the seafloor, or its valuables therein.”
Of course, she wasn’t convinced. “So you’ll simply accept it as gone, although you know full well it’s there?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“And why should I expend an impossible quantity of capital and resources when all I need are a few bloody trunksful that I already had,” he pointed north of where they were sailing, “and they’re right there on that island, mere leagues away?”
“But—”
“Yer father is not going to scare me off to Spain, Abigail. I’ve already come this close. And I intend to see it through, on Monhegan.” He regretted his firm tones with her, but would not tolerate her further challenging him on the matter.
He understood where her heart was. It was plain as day that she yearned for a solution that wouldn’t require her to betray her father, nor to subject the two men to another, potentially deadly, confrontation. But her suggestion was most impractical. Hunting Captain Clear had been enough of a job, and he and his crew had been through too much. James Morrow wasn’t about to sail off to Europe.
Her face closed. “I can see you are unreceptive this morning. I will leave you to your duties.”
Sighing, he watched the back of her cream-colored blouse. “Abigail,” he called after her. But he knew she wouldn’t turn back.
***
Sparks of sunlight glittered on the ocean like a thousand twinkling diamonds. The waters were lazy and even, giving the illusion of a patchwork pattern on their blue-gray surface. Sky and sea blended peacefully at the horizon.
Abi had been staring out for so long, she hardly noticed the ship moving anymore. It was as though time ceased to exist, but for each passing moment. Her trance was broken by the sound of someone clearing his throat.
She glanced over her shoulder, and had to permit a small smile. Mr. Calahad stood behind her, tucking his briar pipe into the breast of his jacket. “Afternoon,” he bade her.
Abi nodded in acknowledgment, then resumed her view of the open sea. Calahad stepped up beside her. From the corner of her eye, she saw his aged hands close over the rails. “I suppose we’re sailing back ’round to your Monhegan.”
Abi’s stomach tightened.
“Captain reckons he’s devised a way back onto the island, without encountering your company at the harbor.”
She fought a sudden pressure behind her eyes. “He shouldn’t be going back there. None of you should.”
Mr. Calahad appraised her inquiringly.
“My father will have every post guarded. I fear you’ll all be massacred.”
He chuckled lightly. Abi only closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. The man’s amusement was quick to give way to concern. “But, dear, are you melancholy?” He patted her hand in a reassuring manner. “You oughtn’t to worry. This crew’s seen worse tides.”
&n
bsp; “Mr. Calahad?” Abi hastily wiped her face on her sleeve. “What would you do if you had to…make an impossible choice?”
He looked thoughtful. Down by the hull, the shadow of a large fish rippled underwater. “It would depend on my options, I suppose,” he replied.
“If you found that you had…” a moth of embarrassment flitted in her gut, “begun to feel a certain way that you shouldn’t—and for a certain person, for whom you surely shouldn’t feel a thing—would you help them? Even if it meant disloyalty to your kin?”
She hadn’t done a very good job covering up the truth; she could tell by a knowing flicker in the older man’s eyes. Yet the secret couldn’t stay between her and the captain forever. Especially not if someone on the outside might be able to offer a sensible perspective.
He chose his words carefully as he responded. “I am guessing, were it I, that I’d have to weigh each outcome against the other.”
Abi listened.
“And I’d be prone to choosing that which was more beneficial, to the most people.”
More beneficial, to the most people? She contemplated this. Refusing to assist in James’s quest would almost ascertain a battle between his and Captain Clear’s crews. There would be winners, and losers. Some might perish. And Abi could not stand to lose any member of either party.
However, she’d saved James’s life once already, deflecting her father’s gun. She would do it again, if she had to. How badly would her own father punish her in exchange?
As Calahad suggested, Abi weighed the outcomes of each possibility. If her father kept the gold, then he would have more than he needed. He could purchase Monhegan, if he wanted to, although the origin of his means to do so would certainly rouse suspicion. Most likely, Captain Clear would wind up in a distant land if ever he settled down, mayhap someplace in the Caribbean, evermore hoarding his riches, yet forever in hiding because of them.