A Pirate's Possession (29 page)

James grinned. “I wondered why Nate would share a bed with a boy. Now I know why.” Though her breasts were small, his hands grabbed them and squeezed. Her chest felt as though she were being sliced in two. A scream rent from her lips.

“Shut your mouth!” James roared and capped a hand over it. She tasted dirt and sweat. Her stomach pitched.

Then the man beneath her bucked suddenly, and agony consumed Claire. It shattered her like glass and the world went black.

Claire's scream chilled Nate to his soul. Had she been stabbed as well, or worse? Nate jumped into the hole, the last thing on his mind the treasure that had been pulled from it. There was room only for Claire. When he saw James over her, one hand fondling her while the other cupped her mouth, Nate knew a rage he'd never experienced before in his life. He used his sword mercilessly and didn't think anything of tossing a bloodied and dying James out of the pit.

Claire's ashen face was as still as Vincent's had been moments ago.

Nate looked for wounds even as he dropped his sword and bent down. Claire was suddenly thrown aside like a piece of driftwood. The man beneath her came hurtling toward Nate. Unarmed, Nate ploughed his fist into the man's face. The resounding crack was absorbed by the dirt walls of the hole. Blood poured from the man's nose at the same time his eyes rolled into his head and he fell back.

Nate shook his stinging hand, then gently took hold of Claire and drew her onto his lap. Her moan was the best sound he'd ever heard. It meant she was alive.

“Is she all right?”

Blake loomed over the pit, his face smeared with dirt.

“Alive. How are we doing up there?”

“It's over. Those that aren't dead are cowering. Luke and Joe are organizing your crew. They'll have those left alive tied soon.”

Nate released a tired breath. “Thank God. Vincent?”

“Up and about. He got lucky.”

That he had
, Nate thought.
And thank God for it.

“Help me get her up, will you?”

As gently as he could manage, he scooped Claire into his arms, taking a moment to press his forehead to hers. She was too small to be in such a battle. And two of the people who meant the most to him had been hurt.

“Pass her to me.” Blake was sitting on the rim of the hole, his arms ready.

Nate blinked, then nodded. Easing up, he held out his arms as far as he could. Blake curled his own beneath Claire and lifted her out. Nate followed immediately after. A quick glance showed James's men being gathered. The ground had more than a dozen bodies lying dead on its grassy surface and he could only be glad that Vincent and Claire weren't among them. He hovered as Blake set Claire down on the ground. Vincent knelt on her other side.

Nate began searching Claire for injuries. It terrified him when he couldn't find any. He'd heard of stomach injuries bleeding in the body and feared for Claire. If it was something like that, then there wasn't a thing they could do for her. A doctor was too far away and the ship's carpenter was good for stitches, perhaps even sawing off a limb if gangrene took it, but nothing as complicated as opening a body.

His hands trembled around from her back, went up one leg then the other. He skimmed his hands over her chest. Her skin was warm, and beneath his fingers he felt the steady rhythm of her heart. When he moved to her ribs, her eyes shot open like bullets.

“Dammit!” she cursed.

Nate hung his head, fisting his hands to hide the shaking.

“About time you woke up,” he said, deliberately keeping it light.

“Is it over?” she asked. Though her face was tight with pain, her eyes were clear as the sea. He'd never seen anything as stunning in his life.

“It is.”

She closed her eyes. “It hurts to breathe.”

“Ribs?” he asked.

She nodded. “James must have cracked some when he landed on me.” She opened her eyes. “How's Vincent?”

“A little sore,” the dwarf answered from her side.

She turned her head and smiled. “Just a little?”

“Judging by the way he screamed,” Blake teased, “I'd say it hurt quite a bit.”

“To hell with you both,” Vincent growled.

Nate forced a grin, cutting his eyes to Vincent's side. Vincent had his hand pressed over it, but Nate didn't see any blood seeping between his fingers.

“We'll get you two settled on the ship while we load the treasure,” Nate said.

“Those alive are contained,” Aidan said as he walked over. He frowned at Vincent's wound. “You all right?”

“He was just looking for a way out of working and got himself stabbed to do it.”

Aidan smiled. “I suppose that's effective.”

Nate looked at him. When he'd first met Aidan, the boy was thirteen and filling into the man he'd become. Standing tall and strong at sixteen, blond hair falling over brown eyes, face dried with dirt, there wasn't much of the boy left. And the man he was becoming sure knew how to shoot a bow.

“That was some work you did with the bow.”

Aidan smiled. “They won't always work in a battle, but they did all right today.”

“That they did. We have a camp set up through there.” Nate pointed to the trees and the narrow path that led to their camp. “Bring someone with you. Take back whatever is useful.”

Aidan nodded and left.

“Let's get Claire and Vincent to the ship, and we'll load the treasure afterward.”

“And what of the other ship?”

Luke strolled forward, wiping his pistol with the sash that hung from his waist. He was as dirty as the rest of them, but unlike Nate, who felt he could sleep for three days straight, Luke looked ready to go at it again.

“What about it?” Nate asked.

“You don't need it, Luke. You build better ships than that one,” Blake commented.

“Aye, I do, but it's a shame to let it sit here.”

Nate crossed his arms over his chest. “You've obviously a plan for it. What is it?”

Luke grinned, tucking his pistol back into his sash. “I'll take her to Port Royal, sell her to the highest bidder.”

“You already charge a bloody fortune for one of your ships,” Blake argued.

“Aye. And they're worth every penny.”

Nate shook his head. “I don't care. Take the ship and as many men as you need. We'll load the treasure onto the
Revenge
and head for Santo Domingo.”

Vincent came to his feet, swaying a little. “I'm all right.” He held up a hand as Nate reached for him. “Just got up too quickly. I thought we were heading to Port Royal. Alicia and Samantha are expecting us.”

“Luke is going there anyway. He can bring Samantha, Alicia, and the children back with him. My house is big enough for everybody and it'll take time to sort through this treasure.”

And then, he thought as his gaze lowered to Claire, there were some discussions to be had.

 

 

Claire refused to be carried. There was enough to do without being tended to and fussed over. Granted it felt as though she were being poked with a red-hot iron, but she didn't see how being carried and jostled about would be any better. At least this way, she was in command of her own steps, slow as they were.

“How are you doing?” Vincent asked. He was keeping pace with her, and from the glance she cut him, she saw he was as pale and weak as she felt.

“I'm panting like a dog, and every breath hurts, but otherwise I'm fine.”

He agreed with a sharp nod of his head. “I know exactly what you mean.”

They made it to the beach. Joe, who'd hurried ahead, dropped his load of treasure and helped Claire into the longboat.

“Easy, lass,” he said.

She ground her teeth, scrunching her eyes against the pain. Water splashing drew Claire's attention. She looked up into Nate's gaze. There was a steeliness there, a determination that reminded her of what he was. A pirate. In enough pain already, Claire turned away.

 

 

Nate plunged the oars in, leaned back as far as he could, and pulled with all his might. She'd looked at him differently just now, and he knew it had nothing to do with her injuries. She was upset about his being a pirate. He wasn't sorry he'd ever become Steele and hoped when he explained it to Claire, she'd understand his reasons.

Claire's eyes were downcast now, her teeth firmly pressed into her bottom lip. She was in agony. Her hand curved around her middle, her face was pale. She was bent forward and he could hear her sharp breaths when a particularly fierce stab of pain hit her.

Nate sliced the oars into the water again, determined that somehow he was going to find a way to make Claire understand. Once she was settled, the treasure loaded, and they were on their way, he'd explain. Surely she must care enough for him to see his reasons. Hell, she'd better. Because the alternative, at this point, didn't bear thinking about.

Despite Vincent's heated arguing, Nate settled him in his cabin then trudged back to the main deck, two items in hand. Claire had refused to share the cabin with Vincent, claiming the fresh air would do her good. There was plenty of room and he could have made her a comfortable bed on the floor or the table if it was a hard surface she was after.

Nate had seen through that bloody excuse but he knew she wasn't up to arguing. Since it would only disturb her to have the lifeboat dripping onto her when they lifted it back on deck, she'd agreed at least to make her bed at the bow of the ship, near the windlass. He stepped around the guns and knelt at her side. Though she no doubt heard him, she kept her eyes closed. The slight only added to his irritation.

“I thought you could use this,” he said, holding up a bottle of amber-colored rum.

Her eyes opened, saw the bottle.

“It'll take the edge off the pain,” he explained.

Nodding, she agreed. “Thanks, I'll have some in a bit.”

Nate snarled. He knew what the bloody hell she was up to, and he refused to allow her to cause herself any more pain. He set the bottle down with a jolt hard enough to draw her attention but not enough to break the bottle.

“I know you're used to doing things alone, but I'll be helping you with this whether you like it or not.”

“Nate!” she gasped as his arm went around her back.

“Shut up and sit up. I'll not wait until you're alone to muddle through by yourself. I'm offering the help, so be grateful enough to take it.”

Her lips flattened and Nate knew it was as much from pain as anger toward him. Good. He didn't care. As long as he could ease her suffering.

Her shallow breaths had him keeping his touch as gentle as possible as he eased her into a sitting position. Then he passed her the bottle.

“More,” he ordered after she took only the smallest of sips.

Her eyes flashed but she brought the bottle back to her mouth and drank two deep swallows. Satisfied, he took the bottle she passed him.

She had a trickle of rum sliding from her lips and Nate's stomach clenched into a fist when her tongue slipped out to lift the liquid away. It hadn't been that long, he thought, since that very tongue had been in his mouth. Had been on his body.

Her irritated tone ripped him from his memories. “You can set me down now.”

“Not yet. We're binding those ribs.”

Her eyes shot teal fire. “I'm in enough pain, thank you.”

“I've had sore ribs once or twice. Binding helps.”

“I don't need it.”

She moved to get away from his touch, but cried out when the pain sliced through her.

“You don't have a say in the matter,” he growled. Keeping one hand at her back, the other went to the buttons on her shirt.

“If you move,” he warned because he'd felt her muscles tense, “it'll only take longer and hurt you more. Besides, you don't want me to do this once the crew is back, do you?”

A blind man couldn't have missed the scathing glare she shot him. Ignoring it, Nate undid the buttons and eased her shirt open. Because he was a man, he took a moment to linger on the gentle curve of her breasts and the saucy nipples that puckered for him.

“You're lovely. It'll be a shame to bind them.” Angry or not, the words spilled from his lips.

“I doubt anyone will notice the difference,” she muttered.

His eyes slid to hers, and saw that she believed her words.

“I don't recall complaining.”

“Just get it done,” she said as a beautiful flush covered her body.

“You can't deny what your body feels, Claire.” Nate took the length of cotton he'd brought up along with the rum. Keeping one end on her back, he circled the cloth around her torso. She kept her arms away from her sides and he knew it was costing her by the lines that carved around her mouth.

“I've learned that both the heart and the body can be easily tricked. Better to listen to my head.”

“And what's your head telling you?” he asked.

“That men, and pirates specifically, can't ever be trusted to tell the truth.”

He bit back a curse, then tied the end of the cloth into a tight knot. He eased her shirt back into place but she refused to let him help with the buttons. It killed him to watch her suffer through the task, but he kept his hands at his sides.

When she was done, he helped her lie down, despite her protests, then covered her lightly with a blanket. Her eyes closed again, but he refused to be so easily dismissed.

“We're going to talk, Claire.”