by Jackie Ivie
And he could look his fill since he didn’t have to hide anything.
Cord was too used to hiding everything. There wasn’t a soul in a decade that heard one complaint or emotion from him. Not one. He’d become such a master at it, he was certain there wasn’t anything left he couldn’t hide. He was beginning to think it was easy because he usually couldn’t even feel it to begin with.
Linna was evoking too much reaction. Already. He wondered why. What is it about her? It was a true that she was sensual, passionate, and exciting. There were probably hundreds like that though. What is it about Linna?
The thought of what he’d left in his chamber warmed the chill he’d been ignoring. Cord pursed his lips before grinning. He wasn’t planning on holding onto it much longer, and it was going to be a long night. He’d make certain of it. It felt like his entire body was heated up with the anticipation.
Cord put his boots against the wood and slid down, bearing the brunt of the wood grain with the belt he’d wrapped about the mast. That was another reason they’d called for him. Several of the hands shook their heads at his antics. They’d come for him because he wasn’t afraid of falling.
Falling wasn’t difficult. The landing was. And everything depended on where you picked the items to break your fall. He’d discovered that early on from very high up. Never go up without planning your descent and mapping out the fall. Masts were especially easy. They had rigging. Tons of it. All you had to do reach for it.
He didn’t really want the theory tested again, though. Cord remembered that as he eased the belt around another yardarm before continuing. He landed on the deck within moments and pulled the larger slivers from the weave of his shirt. Before then, he’d smelled what had to be supper, so he steered toward the galley first. He’d load a platter and take it to share with Linna. He’d better make it a big one though. She hadn’t had anything all day, and he was ravenous.
Cord grabbed several peaches, a cluster of plump red grapes, and a stack of sourdough biscuits, before ladling stew into another pot. He let any interested parties think he was hungry enough to eat it by himself, then he shrugged. Let them think what they liked.
Since he went the easier way down, it didn’t take as long, nor was there any danger of spilling his burden. He was whistling as he turned the handle and pulled open his door, and that’s when he knew something was desperately wrong.
Linna wasn’t sleeping on the cot, it was secured back into the wall, and there were papers scattered on the floor. Linna wasn’t anywhere in sight. Cord swiveled, catching any reaction. She truly wouldn’t try and escape him, would she? She was too afraid of heights, and he’d have known of her presence if she’d made it to the deck. His mates would have noticed a woman that looked like Linna and made no secret of it. But if that wasn’t it, where else could she be?
Cord set his burden on the washstand, balancing it atop his basin, grabbed a peach and started retracing steps. On his third circuit of the ship, he’d eaten all the peaches, then he started on the grapes. The fourth time he got back to the cabin, he swallowed some cooled stew and grabbed a biscuit. The fifth time, he wasn’t hungry any longer.
He didn’t know what the mounting feeling in him was. He told himself he didn’t want to know. He was getting frustrated. And he was shaking. Surely she wouldn’t do anything desperate, would she? So, he’d promised never to touch her. Was that reason to do this to him...and to his son?
Cord checked every salon, every storeroom, he even opened every closet in the reading salon, receiving a squeal of surprise and a stern oath from the captain for his efforts. The squealing lady had been in dishabille. That wasn’t unpleasant, but beyond a glance, Cord hadn’t lingered. She hadn’t been Linna.
Any daylight was fading. Cord knew then he was running out of time. He ran slick decks, checked and rechecked alcoves and niches. Cord shoved emotion away, but it kept returning. Please don’t let her have gone overboard. With rain pelting against him, the storm kicking up waves and spraying him with salt water whenever he ran along an outer passageway, he needed his slicker to continue the search.
Cord’s shoulders were slumping as he went down to his cabin, his entire body trembling, and his heart heavy, although he’d never admit to it.
The passage swayed back and forth as he lurched along it, feeling his way, since they’d extinguished lanterns below-decks. This wasn’t the ship they’d taken over and turned into their pirate one. This wasn’t the fastest clipper in the Caribbean. This was a caravel. Only the paying gentry above received such niceties as light. His lips thinned. He had to go to Fletcher, the ship’s owner. He needed help. Cord was so lost in thought, he didn’t realize the passageway ended until his feet met nothing but air. He had time to pull in a breath and stretch out before the brunt of landing.
The fall was painful. The air missing from his body was even worse.
Cord lay slack and waited. His mind was playing tricks on him or something. He’d completely missed the end of the stair-rail that signaled the ladder. It was his own fault but that didn’t help. He also knew it would only take moments to get his wind back, it just felt like an eternity. He turned his head.
There was a crack of light under his door. His eyes widened. Was it possible? She was back? How the hell...? Cord rolled onto his hands and knees, and crawled toward the door, sucking in a breath, regardless of how much it burned. She was safe in the cabin?
He’d gained his legs before he reached the door. He stood there for long moments, using the time to temper himself. It wouldn’t do if he shoved the door open and frightened her, although every nerve in him was threatening to do that very thing. He settled for gripping the handle, shoving it downward, then yanking. It was the best he could manage under the circumstances.
Linna turned from the supper tray as if he wasn’t standing there, shivering and fevered, completely soaked, and heaving for breath. Cord took in her appearance. She was dressed sternly, with her hair pulled back so tightly it slanted her eyes. He pulled the door closed behind him.
“You’re back,” she said simply and turned again to the tray.
Cord’s eyes widened. “Where…in God’s name…have you been?” he asked, hoping the emotions weren’t sounding in his voice.
“I’ve been with the captain.”
Her reply stopped him before he took a step. “Where?”
“What do you mean where? In his cabin, of course.”
She was speaking to the tray, but there was no mistaking her dismissive attitude. Cord forced a breath in, then back out, then another. It didn’t help much, but he wasn’t saying another word until he got the emotion under control. He’d been running across slippery decks, risking his neck, and the best she could manage was a lie? He swallowed and narrowed his eyes around the throbbing in his temples.
“You’ve been in the captain’s cabin? All this time?”
“Oh please, spare me the jealousy. The captain is a gentleman and quite learned, unlike present company.”
Jealousy? Cord thought, tasting the word in his mind. For some reason, he stiffened. He had no idea how jealousy was supposed to feel, nor what he was supposed to do with it. If it matched the burning he felt in the bottom of his belly and the taut awareness of his own pulse in his head, it wasn’t pleasant. “What did you and a learned man have to talk over for all that time?”
She gasped at his insult. He’d meant her to.
“Are you inferring that I can’t?” she asked, finally.
“Oh no. I never infer. I’m stating the obvious. You were warm, willing, and passionate when I was called away, you disobeyed your husband when he ordered you not to move, and by your own mouth you’ve been with the captain, who’s not immune to charms such as you’ve got, lady.”
“How dare you?”
She whipped about, and even dressed as severely as she was, and with his eyes narrowed, she was enough to increase the thumping at his temple into a pounding. He added it to his other laments. “It’s easy
. I know the man. We all do. He tosses skirts between bouts with drink. Why do you think first mate Dawson is at the wheel?”
“Captain Theodore Watson? I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t care what you believe. I want to know where you were. Try a better lie next time.”
“I’ve been with the captain. I already told you.”
Cord lowered his head. The thumping at his temple was worsening to the point he was having trouble thinking around it. “You couldn’t have been. He’s been...occupied.”
“I know. With me.”
Cord would have rolled his eyes except it might hurt too much. He didn’t want her seeing anything of that. “Perhaps you were in his cabin, but he wasn’t there. I know. I saw him. In a closet. And he wasn’t alone.”
“Well! I’ll have you know, I’ve spent the past three hours with Captain Watson, and I’m used to having my word trusted.”
Cord snarled, for lack of a better expression. “I don’t trust anyone, lady, especially one who doesn’t keep her word.”
“I didn’t promise to stay here!”
“No? Well…by your own lips…you made me the bargain of your hand. Then, by your actions at the wedding, you reneged. That makes you…untrustworthy. I’m not remarking…on it again.”
He stumbled through the words, and she gasped midway through them, but he didn’t care. He felt ill, was having a hard time keeping the various aches at bay, shivering was starting to overtake him, and the roll of the room just added to the dizziness.
Her eyes looked especially bright, but that could be a deception from the lamp light crossing her face with every sway of the room. “If I wasn’t with Captain Watson, then where was I?”
“I’m past…the point…of caring.” Cord sucked in another breath. It whistled through his teeth. That made him shake. Wobble. He put all his effort in conquering the sensation. It wasn’t working.
“Don’t you even want to know why I went and what I’ve been doing?”
“It’s probably just…another lie.”
“I do not lie. I’m not lying now. I was in the captain’s cabin. I was there all afternoon. Where else could I have been?”
Cord shrugged.
“You are so maddening! That’s why I had to go, you know.”
“What?”
He was having trouble staying on his feet. He hoped it didn’t show. He should have used what little time he’d received this morning to sleep, he realized belatedly. It would have been more productive.
“So now you don’t care?”
“I don’t know…how to care, lady.”
“So...it’s true.”
Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that. Cord lifted his eyes to look at her. “What’s true?” he asked.
“Who you are and what you’re hiding.”
Cord pulled a hand across his forehead. None of this was making sense. Nobody knew anything about him. Nobody knew of the voyage to claim his inheritance. Nobody knew of how the ship had been fired upon, so he could be dragged from his bunk and sent to hell.
Nobody.
Except Marcelle, the man who’d done it.
“What…are we talking about?” he asked softly, tensing his entire frame so tightly, his shivering actually lessened.
“Rex Fletcher, your—uh…associate. I read everything, and what I didn’t read, I’ve been apprised of.”
“Fletcher?” He whistled the disgust through his teeth. “Fletcher isn’t my associate. He was a…necessary evil. Why was it so hard to concentrate? “He wanted a few things…done. I needed money. He offered it. Well...the second time he wasn’t offering. It was more along the line of a threat.”
“That isn’t what I was told. You two go back some ways. He told me everything.”
“Who?”
“The captain,” she replied.
“You haven’t been with the captain.”
“Says you,” she replied.
Cord didn’t know what the emotion overtaking him could be, but it didn’t help steady him. “Make up another lie, sweetheart. I’m tired of hearing this one.”
“You won’t have to listen to much more - for much longer.”
“Why not?” he asked. He should have been more wary of the answer. He realized it as she gave it.
“Because of what’s in your papers.” Her voice stumbled before clearing.
His heart moved, firmly lodging in his throat as he watched her. Nothing she’d said was clear, his head was pounding too sharply to think around it, and the only one thing in his papers that could harm him was the one he should have shredded: his wanted poster.
“I hope you haven’t gone and done…what I think you have, lady,” he said.
“And what would that be?”
Cord started unbuttoning his shirt. The shivering had worsened and it wasn’t pleasant. It no longer mattered who she’d talked to or for how long, only that she had. Her words would send him to the brig. Just like old times. Well. He might as well start off dry and warm. The accommodations there wouldn’t be conducive to dryness, warmth, or comfort.
He didn’t question it. That much he knew.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Preparing…myself.” He pulled his rack of wardrobe out and looked at his row of shirts. He was afraid the reaction was visible. He only hoped she wouldn’t spot the weakness overtaking him. This was bad.
Life was just as bad.
“Preparing yourself for what?”
He closed his eyes and tensed everything, working to get any reaction under control. It wasn’t her fault she was a spiteful, vicious wench. It was definitely his fault this was happening to him though. He was the one who’d taken out her chosen groom. He hadn’t needed to. When Fletch had accosted Cord on the Larroquette Plantation, all the man had wanted was to see Linna Daniels wed. Fletch had looked crazed, and one didn’t argue with a crazed man and a gun barrel. Fletch had promised to put a hole through Cord if Linna Daniels wasn’t fetched and then wed.
All he’d had to do when he’d found her and seen her wedding that boy was turn away. He could have told Fletch he’d been too late - and that would have been that. It would be over. He wouldn’t be standing in his cabin while she wreaked havoc with his life. Nor would he have given her the means to take away his chance for vengeance.
Cord didn’t let any of it show anywhere on him as he looked over his wardrobe. He couldn’t. He didn’t think he was capable of buttoning a shirt yet either, so he simply turned away before selecting one. He’d put it on when he’d stripped completely. The cold damp of his clothing was chilling him to the point his teeth chattered.
At least that’s what he told himself the reaction came from.
He started unfastening his trousers. They were wet, too. Salt spray made the material stiffer and the buttons more difficult to maneuver. Despite everything, he was still trembling, too. He hoped she wouldn’t spot that.
“You’d better not be doing what it looks like you’re doing,” she said, in a tight little voice he didn’t recall hearing before.
Cord glanced at her and looked away before she could read anything in the look. He was afraid he was close to breaking. As if he’d have his mind on anything to do with her when she was sending him to hell! Only a sick mind would think such a thing.
There was a prickling sensation behind his eyes. Cord closed them hurriedly before any of it could be displayed. Kill it! Kill it! Kill it! He replayed the phrase through his mind and through his veins, until any vestige of tears left him. He wasn’t shaking as badly anymore either.
He opened his eyes on the plain flooring beneath their feet. Light slithered across to her feet then back over his head with each rock of the ship. His hands came back into focus again. He may be going to the brig and then facing a magistrate, but he’d escape. He was going to find her again, too. He was going to find her, smash through to her cold heart, then rip it from her breast.
He told himself he was going to enjoy it, t
oo.
“I’m cold, I’m wet…and I’m exhausted, lady. I’ve been up all night. Most of today. Yesterday, too. I’ve just come in from a storm. My clothing is wet. I’m changing.”
The words ran together. If he was getting as feverish as it felt, he didn’t want her to know it. She’d get too much satisfaction from it. His voice was as cold and flat as he could make it, too.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, softly.
Cord had the bottom button out and had just opened his fly when her words stopped him. He wrinkled his brow, looked up, and met her gaze. “What…did you just say?”
Whatever she was going to answer fled her mind the moment his eyes met hers. Linna gaped. She couldn’t help it. The little furrow across his brow was back, a lock of his hair was falling between his eyebrows, and there was a thin line of hair carving directly to where he had the front of his trousers splayed apart. There was only one thing she’d ever seen to compare with it, and those memories were stealing her breath and causing a riot of heat through her.
“What did you just say?” he repeated, standing to his full height.
“I—”
Oh! That was even worse! Especially as he hadn’t put one piece of his attire back together. Linna couldn’t possibly answer him if he insisted on standing nearly naked before her, with his hands nonchalantly framing his hips. She couldn’t even find her voice, let alone use it.
“Answer me!”
He took a step toward her, then another. Linna backed into the basin and felt the tray fall before she heard it. He wasn’t wearing enough clothing to get her mouth to work. Surely he knew that much. The man couldn’t be immune to his own attractions, could he?
“I—uh.” She swallowed and tried again.
“They’re not coming for me?”
Linna frowned. He had a strange, almost pleading quality to his voice. He scrunched his eyes shut. The look that flitted across his cheekbones made her brows draw together. He looked a little pale, too.