by C. K. Brooke
Captain Morrow, on the other hand, intended to return the wealth to Great Britain. In return—and, Abi assented, with the heads of a few pirates—he would be a free man. And not only him, but his friends, as well. Though Abi had never cared much about nobility before, it presently begged the question, which was the nobler cause?
She couldn’t meet Mr. Calahad’s eyes as she voiced her next question. “What if it was your only kin?” Regardless of the better cause, which was now obvious to her, her father was all the family she had in the world. Would she assist in robbing him?
“Perhaps blood is not all that determines kin, Miss Clear,” he answered cryptically.
Abi furrowed her brow.
“You must find it odd, a moral lecture in a place like this.” Calahad laughed. “I shall tell you a secret. I’m the only one aboard this vessel who was never a pirate.”
This piqued her interest, momentarily distracting from her dilemma. “Oh?”
“Aye. Royal Navy, long and ago. Turned privateer. Guess that still makes me a rogue.” He winked at her.
“What brought you aboard The Indomitable?” Abi wanted to know.
Calahad’s ears reddened. “Sort of a silly tale, really. But James Morrow saved my life.”
“How is that silly?”
“Well, it involved a tavern, and rather too much ale, and a gang of blokes with which I truthfully had no business brawling at my age…”
Abi got the picture. She smirked. “And Jim—I mean, Captain Morrow came to your rescue?”
“In the nick of time.” The man grinned openly, and Abi noticed for the first time that he was missing a tooth or two, near the back. “Complete strangers, we were. I didn’t know how to repay him. Well, we got to talking and, when I learned his story, I signed on for his expedition. Been mates ever since.”
Abi simply nodded. She liked Mr. Calahad’s story. She wished he would have told it sooner.
“I’ll admit,” he sighed, “the journey’s taken longer than expected. I had hoped to retire, back in London, by now. But,” he surveyed her, “I feel the captain is a man worthy of the redemption he seeks.” Although he asked nothing aloud, his eyes held the question, Do you?
Abi circled the splinters in the railing with her fingertips. Her thoughts rowed and swayed, gyrating from her dream, the sunken galleon, and her father, to James, Monhegan, the hidden trunks.
She lifted her eyes. The sun was bursting behind a translucent cloud, outlining it in golden threads. The dream, the sunken galleon, her father…
Her heart palpitated. “Mr. Calahad?”
“Mmm?”
Her mind raced. How hadn’t she seen it before? Her first solution, the one she had unsuccessfully proposed that morning, wasn’t far off. She had only to turn it around. “You seem an educated man. Can you write?”
“Why, yes.”
“Might you be willing to do me a favor?” Behind her back, Abi crossed her fingers for luck. It was a gamble, all of it—her idea, soliciting Calahad’s support, how her father might respond, if and when she made it back to him. But it was the only idea she had left.
The man inclined his head. “What did you have in mind, dear?”
***
Abi had expected the door to be locked. To her surprise, however, it opened at the yank of the handle. Well—that made things easier. Beams of sunlight filtered in through the grid of windows in the alcove, illuminating swirls of dust suspended midair. Tentatively, she stepped inside.
If Mr. Calahad was nervous about intruding, he hid it well. With purpose, the sailor went to the bureau and opened a drawer. In it was a stack of untouched parchment. He moistened a finger and lifted a leaf from the pile.
He assumed the desk chair. Abi stood over his shoulder, watching him dip a quill into the inkwell. As she dictated the words, Mr. Calahad transcribed her letter. On occasion, she caught the twitch of his brow or a curious gleam in his eye. But otherwise, he offered no judgment, only writing what she told him.
“I can sign it,” she said, once they had finished. She at least knew how to write her own name. Calahad showed her where, and she scrawled out the letters.
He made to fold up the page, but she stopped him. “There’s something else to go with it, actually. I can work on it myself. Many thanks for your help.”
“Ah, but I imagine I am not done helping you?” He indicated the letter. “How will you go through with it?”
“I…I thought I’d do it alone, much like last time.”
“And was that not rather treacherous?”
Abi fingered the parchment, and admitted to him what she would need. It wasn’t asking too much. But it would require a significant amount of trust.
“When?” asked Calahad simply.
“Tonight. After midnight, but before dawn.” She swallowed. The rest she would have to conquer on her own.
After a beat, the man replied, “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“Mr. Calahad?”
He was on his way to the door, but glanced over his shoulder.
Abi met his kind blue eyes. “You trust me, then?”
“I do now.” He nodded at the page in her hand. “A letter like that doesn’t come from a liar.”
With that, he left her to complete her task. Abi lowered herself into the captain’s chair, and turned the letter around to the empty back. Moistening the quill in the inkwell, she began.
***
When she was a little girl, Abi used to try to number the night stars. After a while, she would lose count, or else forget which ones she’d already numbered, and would have to start over again. Especially on cloudless nights, when there were so many. At sea, they seemed quite close by, like cities shining on a hilltop, just another day’s sail away. Could they really be so far?
“Mind if I join you?”
Abi lowered her gaze from the heavens to greet James Morrow. At the sight of him, her body rather felt as though it were comprised of stars.
“You’re wearing the dress.” He smiled.
“I wore it for you.”
“Aye?” Coming up beside her, he draped an arm around her scarlet-clad shoulders. Abi relaxed, resting her head against his chest. “What’s the occasion?” he asked her.
Possibly their final night together, thought Abi with a heavy heart. But she couldn’t tell him that. Instead, she merely shrugged off the question. Although part of her soared on the magic of his touch, another part felt as though she were dropping into an ice cold pit of incurable sadness.
When her silence had lingered too long, she drew a breath. “I was just wondering how many stars there are. Including the ones we can’t always see.”
“If anyone knows,” said James, “it’s a man of the sea.”
“You think?”
“Well, sure.” He drummed his fingers on her arm. “Who else gets a clearer, flatter view o’ the heavens, unobstructed by the shape o’ land and constructions of man?”
“Perhaps in the desert,” Abi mused. “Or far off, in the open plains.”
“Do ye dream of such places, Abi?” He sounded wistful. “Do you tire of the wide, old ocean?” Judging by the weariness his voice and his heavenward eyes, it was evident that he did.
“In truth, I could go anywhere…” She bit her tongue. With you, she’d been about to say. But she hadn’t the courage to say it. Especially not considering her plans that night. She hoped James would understand, come morning. She was doing it for him, after all.
“When I clear my name, I’ll take ye home with me to the North Minch. And we can sail to the Outer Hebrides, fish for herring and cod…make a life among the simple folk.”
Abi brought her arm around his waist. She closed her eyes, listening to the music of the lapping, star-speckled ocean. A deck above, a pair of sailors were singing a chantey, slightly off-tune. It sounded like drink was involved.
Memories surfaced and swam in her mind’s eye. With a small throb of fear, she recalled the moment her father had come f
ace-to-face with James. “Well, well. We meet again, Dagger Jim.”
Abi reopened her eyes, feeling James’s strong heartbeat against her ear. His deception had crushed her that day. For she had, unawares, grown to love a man she’d been conditioned to hate. And at that hour, she’d believed his only care was his own greed.
Was it possible that the charade continued?
If she succeeded in helping James get to the gold, might he merely take it back for himself, and all the story of his reform was only that—a story? If so, then Abi was playing right into his hands. Her head repeated her father’s warnings, told her to beware of the man in whose arms she stood. But her heart didn’t know how to let go. And didn’t want to.
“James?”
He threaded his fingers through her hair in response.
“If you could have only one, me or the all the riches hidden on Monhegan, which would you choose?”
“Why, love,” he stooped to meet her eyes, “in order to have ye, I must first have the treasure. Otherwise I’m nothin’ but a fugitive, and could never give you a decent life, no matter how modest.”
She shook her head. “That isn’t what I’m asking.”
Two large hands edged her face. “But do you still doubt me, Abigail?” His whisper matched the incredulity in his gaze. “What more can I do to prove that I…” The words stoppered in his throat. He cleared it, looking pained. “That I…”
Her pulse pounded. “That you…?”
“That I love you,” he growled. He swallowed her reply, smashing his lips over hers, his rough and unrelenting kiss drowning out her every fear and reservation. Her heart leapt like a gazelle, prancing circles in her chest. “I’ve loved ye since the moment you spat on my damn boot.”
Abi returned her mouth to his, unable to quell the euphoria overtaking her. Oh, for joy! She’d never felt anything close to this.
She took James’s hand in both of hers, and brought it to her smiling lips. “You aren’t pretending,” she breathed. It wasn’t a question; she felt the certainty now, to her marrow.
The sparkle in his eyes was sincere. “I wouldn’t know how to pretend this.”
A mass of footsteps thundered behind them as the bulk of the crew broke for supper at the Cook’s call. Concealed in the shadows, Abi and James remained, embracing beneath the moonlight.
He stopped kissing her long enough to inquire whether she was hungry. Abi shook her head. How could she think of food when she had all the love she would ever need—indeed, all the love in the world?
With sensual strokes, he teased the lace bust of her dress. Goosebumps peppered her skin. Unspeaking, the Captain cocked his head in the direction of the cabin deck.
A deep tremor of anticipation rolled through Abi’s body. Wordlessly, she took his hand, accepting the invitation.
Chapter 16
Abi lay awake in a timeless trance, watching the candle’s shivering flame. Its shadow capered on the wooden walls. Clutching a corner of silk, she pulled the black sheet up to her bare shoulders. She repositioned, settling against the sleeping man beside her. His soft snores rose and fell in the dimly lit cabin, along with his tattooed chest.
Gingerly, Abi traced the blue anchor over his heart. She ran the tip of her finger along the design, careful not to rouse him. The symbol, she knew, represented a sailor’s voyage across the Atlantic. And the feral swallow on his bicep—well, a swallow meant a commitment to the nautical life. And so a dangerous one, she reckoned, meant he’d fancied himself a danger to sea. No doubt this was accurate when he’d gotten the ink however many years before, pirate that he was. She grinned.
Abi lay her head on his soundly swelling chest. Though the hour was late, she couldn’t recall feeling more awake. Her toes toyed with his ankles, the hair on his legs bristling against her knee as she folded it beside him.
With a burst of heat, she envisioned the evening once more, from start to finish, the way James had pared the red dress from her skin, and the fabric had collapsed to the floor. How her breasts had felt, perked beneath his coarse hands when he’d kneaded them, his merciless kisses trailing ever down the flesh between them.
A sigh of delight escaped her. He’d kissed her in places she had never imagined being kissed before, drowning her in impossible sensations of which she’d never known the body capable. The depths that his eager fingers had submerged, the unspeakable thrill of the pearled peaks of her breasts between his teeth.
And then, after tormenting her with pleasure, when he’d finally made love to her, he’d held nothing back. To receive a man’s passion was an incomparable experience. Her memory blazed with his heaving form as he thrust himself in and out of her, erotic echoes of her gasps and squeals, his ragged grunts of breath, until…
She inhaled, commanding herself to calm. She was growing hot all over again, just thinking about it. She would never forget that night, as long as she lived. And she hoped neither would he. But, though he meant everything to her…or rather, because he did…it was time for her to go.
Abi hovered over him a final time. He slept so soundly. His arm lay across her pillow, simply welcoming her back into his embrace. She stifled a surge of emotion. “I love you, James Morrow,” she whispered.
She slid out of the silken sheets, her naked form meeting the cabin’s draft. Careful to tread lightly, she searched the dark floor for her dress. In silence, she draped it back on. Her boots awaited by the door, and she lifted them by the lips. After one last, sentimental glance at the sleeping man behind her, she left him.
Abi carried her boots up the hall. When she reached the storeroom, she went in and lifted her mat. From the floor beneath it, she snatched up the leaf of parchment hidden there. She tiptoed back to the captain’s cabin and slipped the page under his door.
When she emerged upstairs, all was still. Beneath the bright moonlight, Abi could make out Monhegan directly in their midst. More small wooden boats hung starboard of the quarterdeck, on the opposite side of the ship from where she’d made her first escape. With naught but the gown on her back, and the old boots on her feet, she would again depart The Indomitable.
Misters Calahad and DuPont awaited her on deck.
“The isle is at hand. We are ready,” Calahad greeted her, his voice low. “I hope it’s all right, but I let DuPont here in on our secret. I’ll need his help with the pulley.”
Mr. DuPont grinned toothily at her. “You’re go’n to do it, Abigail.” He could scarcely contain his excitement in a whisper. “And we’ll all walk free. I can feel it.”
Abi’s stomach cinched. If anything, she hoped he was right. What she was about to do would either be a miracle…or a disaster. “I’ll try my best,” was all she could truthfully tell him.
“Godspeed,” Calahad told her.
They helped her into a boat. Abi climbed into the rocking, suspended vessel, gathering her bearings, and sat. Together, the men worked the rope pulley, helping her to slowly descend. Abi held onto the edge, not looking down.
When the hull made contact with the water, she labored with the knots on the ropes. At last, the boat came loose. She raised a hand in farewell, and Calahad and DuPont waved back. Taking up the oars, Abi rowed herself north, to the island.
With every heave of the oars, she thought on James. She could hardly believe it was only hours ago when the man had been so intimate, so tender with her. Her heart would never rest until she had him again. Regardless of the outcome, the vital need to be reunited with her lover would consume her.
She reached an empty, brambly stretch of shore. Trees obstructed the route inland and the walk to the main harbor would be long, but she didn’t care. She climbed out of the boat and lifted the bow. With all of her remaining strength, she pulled it onto the rocks. Her dress got splattered with mud, but in her exhaustion, there was nothing more she could do about it.
A soft parcel of grass in which to lay her head was difficult to find, given all the rocks, weeds, and brambles she treaded. After minutes of v
ain searching, Abi gave up. She climbed back into the boat, curled up on the hard, damp floor, and finally slept.
***
The break of dawn brought a rude awakening by an impertinent little bird. It landed on the side of her boat and cawed. Abi opened her eyes. “Shoo!” She thrust out an arm, and the ugly thing flapped off. “Go find someone else to annoy,” she muttered.
The cadence of the waves washed over the rocks. Abi massaged her eyes. She ached with hunger. Not that she regretted foregoing supper the night before. She stepped out of the boat and onto the damp shore. Regaining her land legs, she lumbered inland with the expectation that, least of all, The Succubus would have vittles.
She waded through trees for what felt like all morning. Why had she gone this way? She should have braved the harbor the previous night, and met her father’s crew face-on. She could have explained everything then. But then, they might have shot her dead before discerning so much as who she was.
She was seriously considering giving up and turning back when the landscape finally began to clear out, and she had a direct view of the harbor. The ship was docked there beneath the risen sun. Its masts were looking ratty; she’d never noticed before. Abi broke into a run, perspiring in the humid morning.
The young woman scrambled down the dunes to port. When she made it up the dock, she was accosted by an entourage of swords, aimed in a circle around her. Abi glared at their handlers.
Bones, Rags, and the rest of them lowered their weapons.
Peter cupped his hands over his mouth. “’Tis only Abi,” he called up to the ship, sounding notably disappointed.
“Hello,” Abi greeted them, somewhat coldly. She still hadn’t quite forgiven them for the way they had treated James upon their last meeting.
Someone yelled from the ship in response.
Peter swallowed a breath. “I says,” he bellowed, “’tis…only…Abi!”
“Where is my father?” she demanded.
“In his quarters,” said Bones, looking bewildered.