"Back to work with you, boy," he said, and Cat swallowed the questions that rose to her lips. Although she would have liked to know more, she understood that Ransom’s anger sprang from concern for her, and she felt guilty over her childish behavior.
Resolved to mend the breach between them, she searched for him, only to realize he was no longer on deck. Going below, she found him seated at the large table in his cabin, looking over the books. He did not even glance up when she entered, and she realized that a reconciliation would not be easy.
"It looks to be a good day, captain," she said. As her first attempt at conversation, it failed miserably.
The captain grunted in reply, his gaze never leaving his work.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Cat asked.
"No."
"Well, if there’s anything you need, just say so," she said. Her words were met with total silence, and she cringed when she remembered that only a few days before she had given Ransom the same treatment. First, she would not speak to him, and now he was not speaking to her. What a pretty kettle of fish.
Unwilling to give up, but uncertain as to her course, Cat perched on the sea chest and began mending a tear in her extra breeches, periodically looking over at her still mute captain. She stayed, quietly sewing in the corner, in the hope that he might say something or she might be struck with inspiration as to how to achieve that end.
Meanwhile, Cat brooded on how much she missed his company. She loved listening to his strong, deep voice and watching his face when he wasn’t looking. She loved his dark eyes, his lazy grin, and the sound of his laughter. She loved the shape of his long, lean fingers and the way the sunlight glinted off his locks as he bent his head. She loved... him.
Cat's sudden gasp caught his attention, but he only flicked a glance toward her stricken face. She swallowed convulsively, knowing she should say something, but “I love you, captain” did not seem appropriate, and he returned to his work.
She loved him
. The realization hit Cat like a broadside, knocking the wind from her. She could only stare miserably at the object of her devotion, her mind turning over the implications of a discovery both wonderful and terrible.
She loved him, and yet there was nothing to be done about it. Why, the man wasn’t even speaking to her. More determined than ever to change that, Cat never left his side the rest of the day, so solicitous that at supper, he slammed his fist down on the table, sending cook’s hard-as-nails biscuits sailing through the air.
"Damn it, Cat. If you don’t quit hovering, I’ll put you off on the first island I see, and I can only hope it will be populated by man-eating Caribs!"
He had spoken to her, at last. Although his words weren’t promising, Cat grasped at her chance. "Whoa, captain! Watch those biscuits! Do you want to put a dent in the wood?" she said lightly as she stopped to pick up the errant foodstuffs. "We might need them for the nine-pounder, as cannon shot," she added, smiling up at him.
Their gazes met briefly before she was rewarded with his lazy grin. "Cook thinks if he makes them hard enough, they’ll repel the weevils," Ransom said, and Cat beamed.
The rift between them was healed, and to Cat all was right with the world again. As for her deeper feelings, she could hardly act upon them. Simply to have his companionship again was enough for her… for now.
***
The reconciliation pleased the captain, too, although he would not admit it, even to himself. Smiling as he watched Cat clear the table, Ransom decided he was glad to have the youngster with the tart tongue and lively sense of humor aboard.
Yet his pleasure at the thought was followed by derision as he realized he was looking at the youth with something akin to fondness. He frowned. If he weren’t careful, the men would be calling him "mother hen," and the
Reckless
would more resemble a floating nursery than a privateer.
Ransom shook his head at the memory of losing his temper over the boy’s small act of courage during the recent battle. As captain, he had to be concerned for the welfare of everyone aboard, but he knew damn well that if anyone else had cut the sail he would have handed out praise instead of ridicule. What the devil had gotten into him?
He had sailed for years in comparative peace, but ever since Cat had appeared, Ransom found his carefully structured life disturbed with alarming frequency. He was beginning to rue the day he first looked into those green eyes on the quay at Barton. What did he care if the boy was reckless above or safe below? Sailors died. That was a fact of life.
And it was best not to become too attached to any of them.
Chapter Four
Cat kicked a stone in the road, then glared, suddenly disgusted with her dirty bare feet. Her delight in going ashore with the captain had vanished when he’d excused himself to escort a couple of idiotic females to their destination. The
Reckless
was again anchored at Windlay, which Cat was beginning to think lay under an ill wind.
It certainly seemed that every time she looked forward to an outing there, some mishap occurred to steal her pleasure. She’d been promised a trip to the place where he conducted business in this part of the world, but now she stood forgotten, her heart in her throat, watching him walk away.
Cat had seen the women stare at Ransom, then smile and simper when he noticed them, and she had nearly retched at their coyness. Oh, she had known others to take to Ransom like bees for honey. And she had grown accustomed to some, like Sally, with garments slipping from their shoulders and bold invitations from their painted lips.
These two were not of that ilk. They wore fine silks of beautiful design and elegant hats, and they carried tiny reticules. Their voices soft and their speech sophisticated, they came from the kind of life Cat had left behind. And when she saw Ransom eye them appreciatively, the boyish disguise that allowed her so much freedom seemed about as appealing as sackcloth.
As she walked back to the beach, Cat wondered with unexpected longing what it would be like to return to female form, although it was a guise she had once decried. She knew a sudden sharp urge for clean, soft fabric to wear, a pretty ribbon for her hair, or a warm apple tart swimming in fresh cream.
Cat shook her head. She was living the life of adventure that she had only dreamed about. How could she want anything more?
With a sigh, Cat closed her eyes against the bright Caribbean sun, as if to shut out the new feelings assailing her. She had rarely given a thought to her gender, but now... She was so much more aware of her body lately, as if it had a life of its own, especially when she was around the captain. And
especially
when he was naked. Then her heart would trip apace, and her breath would catch in the strangest fashion.
She had thought herself mature, but now it seemed as if she suffered growing pains, odd prickles and tickles that had an unnerving tendency to strike when Ransom was near. She was taller, too, and her long, slim legs were becoming awfully shapely for a sailor.
The thought sent a shiver of unease through her, and she wondered just how much longer she could carry on her masquerade. As the cabin boy, she had some measure of privacy, but she was playing a dangerous game. And now that the
Reckless
was heading south toward Barbados, it would at last be over.
And yet she was reluctant to abandon the ship she called home to face an uncertain future with a relative she could not recall. The thought of leaving her newfound friends weighed upon her, making it difficult to choose the right course.
And there was Edward. Cat had been too busy and happy of late to brood upon her cousin’s treachery. But she had not forgotten it, and she had no intention of letting the man enjoy the spoils of his wickedness in peace. Justice would not be served, however, while she crewed on a privateer.
Her thoughts whirling, Cat raced toward the waves and dove in, as though the sea could wash away her confusion. Rising to the surface, Cat let herself drift.
From the very first time she’d plunged into the ocean, she had decided the best thing about sailing was the swimming. Beneath the turquoise surface lay a silent world of fantastic coral and schools of sparkling fish that begged to be explored.
Best of all, she loved to swing from a line off the ship, with the sensation of sky and water whirling about her and a lurching feeling in the pit of her stomach just before she released the rope to drop into the blue. Surely, there was nothing better on earth, Cat thought, clinging to her boyish existence.
With a sigh, she stepped from the water and threw herself on the beach, feeling torn between separate lives. As she let the water wash over her feet, she took in the sights around her, trying to imprint them on her memory forever.
Not a cloud marred the azure sky, which was almost indistinguishable from the ocean. And the only object in a world of sea and sky was the
Reckless
, her hull towering over tiny figures swimming by her side, and her masts soaring into the heavens.
As Cat marked the scene in her mind, she knew it would be hard to break the ties that bound her to the ship, for she could feel Ransom’s inexorable pull. Despite her yearnings - or perhaps because of them - Cat wanted to remain right where she was. And for emphasis, she dug her toes into the sand as it to take hold of the island and all it represented.
***
When Ransom returned to the ship, Cat was elated to see that he was not happy. For a moment, she hoped that one of the fine ladies had either picked his pocket or snubbed him. She set her petty feelings aside, however, when his grim expression lingered. Hearing him call for Bert, she tagged along, curious.
Neither man seemed to take note of the small figure hovering behind them as they stood on deck in the gathering twilight. "It’s worse than I thought," Ransom said so softly that Cat strained to hear him.
"What’s that, captain?" Bert asked.
"It’s not only the warehouse. I learned that two of the shipping vessels were taken by Ben Pike."
"Butcher Ben, the pirate?" Bert asked, scratching his head, as if puzzled. Cat pricked up her ears at the mention of the dreaded Ben, whose penchant for hacking his foes to pieces had earned him his nickname. "And two ships?"
At Ransom’s cool nod, Bert shook his head. "I can see that jackass having the luck to come across one, but two..." The first mate grunted. "That sounds deliberate."
"So I thought," Ransom said, his tone dry.
"What were they hauling?" Bert asked.
"Sugar."
"What the hell would Ben want with a load of sugar?" Bert scoffed.
"That’s what I intend to find out," Ransom said, and the cold determination in his voice made Cat step back. She watched Bert walk away, still shaking his head, and moved to go herself, but a voice stopped her.
"Well, did you hear all you wished?"
Ransom had not even turned around to look at her, and Cat frowned at his back. "How do you do that?" she asked.
"What?"
"See through the back of your head," Cat muttered, not daring to look at him. But Ransom chuckled, and seeing that he was not really angry with her for eavesdropping, she was encouraged to speak.
"Why would Ben take your ships?"
Ransom sighed and looked out over the waves. "I’m not sure, but I suspect Devlin’s hand in this."
"Devlin." Cat whispered the name as though it were an ill omen. "Who
is
Devlin?"
Ransom was silent for so long that Cat thought he would not answer, but finally he spoke, his voice hard. "Devlin has made himself my particular enemy. It goes way back... to when I was young and cocky - or foolish, depending on your choice of words," he said, his expression grim.
"One of Devlin’s people approached me with an offer to invest in some island property, and I saw myself as a grand plantation owner," he said. "The promise of riches was enticing, too, as I was rapidly depleting my inheritance. The phrase ‘rich as a Creole’ had become so widespread that it was easy to imagine fortunes were easily made.
"Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who labored under this delusion. Devlin, along with others of his ilk, brought down many a man through unscrupulous investment schemes in the West Indies, and they continue to do so.
They tender the credit to purchase land, but once the land is cleared they call in their loans, leaving the hapless planter without money for stock or labour. These same moneylenders then offer to buy back the land, now cleared through no effort of their own."
"How can they get away with this?" Cat asked, outraged.
"Oh, it’s all perfectly legal." Ransom loosed a low breath. "There was nothing left to do but pay the man or lose the land. Although I could ill-afford the former, I was loath to give away the land so easily. Then Devlin was so kind as to give me a third alternative that he rarely extended to his other victims..."
His words trailed off. "He was willing to extend the loan in exchange for sexual favors."
Cat gasped, but the captain spoke lightly. "Oh, I wasn’t shocked. I had seen too much in my misspent youth for that,” he said. “But I never thought to be bought like a street whore." His laugh was humorless.
"And I’m sure that was his intention. Despite my... charms, I suspect he was more interested in gaining power over me and all that I represented. I was too young to see that at the time, however, and lost my temper. He had to call in two of his men to tear me off him, and still I nearly broke his jaw."
Ransom shook his head. "Devlin mistook his mark. I was a different bird from those previously plucked and not quite the witless carouser I appeared to be. Instead, I paid him off, put an end to my free-spending revels, and changed my life for the better."
He was quiet, seemingly lost in thought as he looked out over the ocean, but obviously, there was more to the story.
"Why does he continue to harass you?" she asked.
"I can only guess at an answer," the captain said. "Apparently, Devlin is unused to being scorned - and bested - while my subsequent success rankles."