A Pirate's Possession (34 page)

She heard the steps approaching and her belly clutched. Blake stepped into camp. Claire swallowed a hard knot of disappointment.

“Alicia told me where I might find you. We thought you'd come to the house.”

“I wanted to give you all the privacy to grieve.”

Blake gave her a knowing look. “You were Vincent's friend as well. You didn't have to leave.”

She shrugged. “I thought it would be best.”

“For who, Claire?”

“For everyone.”

“Claire, Nate needed you there today.”

“I
was
there.”

“No, you weren't. You stood by yourself, you didn't so much as touch Nate's hand, and you ran away right afterward.”

“I didn't run.”

Blake arched a brow. “Didn't you?”

Claire got up and paced. “You're a family. I didn't belong.”

“Only because you didn't want to. Alicia and Samantha both asked for you.”

Claire stopped and looked at Blake. “And Nate?”

Blake rubbed his brow. “He missed you.”

“But he didn't ask.”

Blake sighed. “You of all people know it's complicated. Nate told me what happened between you at the orphanage. He told me he's asked you to marry him. Claire, he's come for you twice now, first at the orphanage and again on his ship. He's not going to do it a third time. I know Nate, and if you want him, you'll have to go to him.”

Claire looked away, crossing her arms when she realized her hands were trembling.

“He said to tell you that the treasure will be divided in the morning. Once it is, Nate and I will be going to Nevis, but we shouldn't be long.”

“Nevis? Isn't your home Port Royal?”

“I'm not going home yet. We have a last request to grant Vincent.”

One Nate hadn't bothered to tell her. Just as she hadn't told him her own plans. Claire shook her head. They may have come together for a while, but she and Nate remained miles apart.

 

 

By the time they reached Nevis, Nate wasn't fit company. Three days of thinking about Claire and the treasure had about done him in. He'd given her his share, easily and without question, but she'd refused it. She'd taken only what was hers, given Nate a sad smile, and left. She should have simply shot him. It would have hurt less.

Nate barked orders, ignored the questioning looks of his crew and Blake's amused ones. They could all go to Hell, he thought. Feeling trapped on his ship, something Nate wouldn't have believed to ever be possible, he gladly made port in Nevis.

He had no idea where to look for Cale, or even if it was the same person, but Nate only knew one man by that name and decided to start where he'd last seen him.

The man at the tavern hadn't seen Cale but he did have an idea where the man lived. After vague directions, Blake and Nate headed that way. It was a run-down little house with moss growing on its roof. Nothing about the yard was tended; the grasses grew to the tops of Nate's boots. Before he could stride for the door, a familiar voice came from behind him.

“What do you want?”

Nate turned. Sure enough, it was the same man from the poker game. His icy blue eyes met Nate's then drifted a moment to Blake's.

“Is your family name Hunter?”

“I don't have a family,” Cale answered.

Well, damn
, Nate thought.

“I think you do,” Blake said, taking a step forward. “You have five sisters and a brother. We're here about Vincent.”

The flash of recognition came quick to Cale's eyes, and left as fast. Nate turned to Blake and raised a questioning brow.

Blake shrugged. “If we'd asked, he'd have denied it. Now we know he's lying.”

An hour later, after a hefty struggle that left all three men panting and breathless, and each with fresh cuts on his face, they finally had Cale's attention.

“You've lost your mind,” Cale said. His eyes were pale as the morning fog and certainly no warmer.

“He's asked this of you. Surely a ship is better than this,” Blake said as his hand encompassed the dingy one-room cabin.

“I don't want a ship. For the last time, I'm not a pirate.”

“You'll have a crew and Vincent's share of the treasure.”

Cale's face went red. “I don't want anything to do with that damn treasure! That's why I sold the map to begin with!”

Nate sighed. They weren't getting anywhere with force. He tried again. “Vincent felt inferior. He wanted this to make himself feel like more of a man. We'd never given him the impression he was less of one. Where did he come to believe that?”

The fire went out of Cale. “He had reason to believe that.”

Yes, Nate imagined he did. Cale wasn't quite as tall as Nate was, but his shoulders were as wide. It must have been hard to be a dwarf when your brother looked like Cale. Nate couldn't help wondering if Cale hadn't made it worse. Judging by the remorse on his face, he imagined Cale had.

A thought suddenly struck Nate. “He came to see you that night, the night of the poker game?”

Cale was silent, but his large hands had curled into fists.

“Did he tell you that?”

Nate shook his head, regret sitting heavily on his shoulders. He'd felt something was wrong with Vincent that night but he'd been too damn wrapped up in his own problems to take the time for his friend.

“No. All he ever said about you was that you'd left home when he was a young boy.” Nate leaned forward, not above using guilt. “I do know that he was upset that night and that when he spoke of being Steele, he got a fire in his eyes I hadn't seen before.”

“It meant everything to Vincent to be Steele. Clearly he thought enough of you to ask you to do it in his place. You can't find it in yourself to honor that request?” Blake asked.

Cale looked up and Nate saw what he himself was feeling. Grief, more than he knew what to do with.

“I'll do it,” Cale sighed after a long moment. “I'll do it and I'll keep your bloody secrets, but I still don't want his damn share of the treasure.”

 

 

Bloody family reunion,” Cale cursed at the amount of people gathered about the longboat.

He'd met them all, which, as far as he was concerned, wasn't a requirement. All Cale wanted was to get the bloody hell away from them. He was doing this for Vincent—couldn't he just get on with it?

“Boy? You coming or not?”

“Yeah. I'm coming.” And Aidan did, with the bag Luke passed him in one hand and a cage containing a red and yellow parrot in the other.

“You've got to be bloody kidding me,” Cale roared. “I'm not taking a parrot as well.” He jerked his chin at Samantha. “Next you'll have me raise your children for you.”

“Don't worry, we won't ask that of you,” Samantha replied. Her tone gave Cale's hearty competition.

Luke wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders and rubbed her arm affectionately. “The bird goes with Aidan,” Luke said.

“I can't believe this,” Cale said with a shake of his head. “Can we bloody leave now?” he roared.

Samantha turned to Aidan. “I know you're ready to leave us, but we're not quite as ready.” She kissed Aidan's cheek. “Carracks will remind you of what's waiting for you at home.”

Aidan's smile was gentle, as was his hold when he hugged Samantha. “I don't need a parrot to remind me of that, but I'm glad to have him.”

“He's annoying,” Luke said, though he poked his fingers through the bars and rubbed the bird's neck. “But he's good company. Just watch what you say. Bloody bird repeats everything.”

Squawk
. “Bloody bird, bloody bird.”

“Christ,” Cale cursed as he plunged the oars into the water. “Won't this be fun?”

 

 

San Salvador isn't that far,” Blake reminded Nate.

Nate took his tankard and cupped it in one large palm. They were continuing the tradition of having a nightly drink—this time in Nate's kitchen—but it wasn't the same. Not without Vincent and not knowing Blake was taking Alicia, Samantha, and Luke and leaving in the morning.

“There's nothing for me in San Salvador. There never was.” Alicia had discovered that Claire had paid for passage to San Salvador and had been very forthcoming giving the information to Nate. He couldn't imagine why Claire would want to go back where the orphanage had been and where so many awful memories awaited her. Would she see her husband? Would he hurt her?

“There's Claire, you big lubber.”

Nate choked on his rum. Only Vincent had ever called him that.

“Thought it was appropriate. I'm sure it's what he'd be thinking.” Blake smiled, casting his glance upward.

Nate scoffed. “Probably is at that,” he agreed and felt a little lighter since Blake had brought Vincent back into the room, if only in words.

“He'd want you to go.
I
want you to go.”

“Marriage has made you sentimental,” Nate said before taking another drink.

“Maybe. But it's also made me see the value of not wasting time. I lost months with Alicia, months of her first pregnancy that I can't get back. Would you do the same?”

This time Nate did choke. He wiped the rum off his chin with his forearm. “Claire's not expecting.”

“Not what I meant, though that was fun. Why won't you go to her?”

He ran a hand over his face. “You don't know Claire. She's independent, she won't lean on me, and she doesn't trust me to come through for her.” He shrugged away the pain. “She won't even let me try.”

“Then prove her wrong.”

“She left, Blake. That tells me everything I need to know.”

“Like it did the last time? You thought she gave up on you once, and she didn't. She just ran out of time. You let her walk away, let her keep her secrets to herself. You proved her right, Nate, by doing all those things.” Blake leaned forward. “Why don't you try another way this time?”

Nate swallowed the drink along with Blake's words. He knew Blake was right. He had proved her right. But he'd also been hoping she'd come around on her own, that she'd realize what they had and what he felt for her. He'd asked her to share his house, hadn't he?

Yes, he had, but as he closed his eyes, he realized that he'd never explained to her why he'd built the house. He'd never told her he loved her or proposed properly. He'd been as withholding as she'd been.

“Someone has to give in first,” Blake said, bursting into his thoughts. “It may as well be you.”

 

 

When she'd stepped into the abandoned orphanage, Claire had felt like a young girl again. She'd felt the fear, the despair. She'd heard her words echo in her head, “Don't leave, Father. Let me go with you.” Her father's response had been, “My sweet girl. I'll be back for you. Trust me.”

She had. And he hadn't.

Claire had pushed aside the memory as she'd pushed her fingers through the sticky webs that had filled most doorways. The windows had been broken, likely from the very children who'd been spit out with little thought or care. Dust and misery had lain thick in the air. The walls, a dull and wretched gray, had offered no relief.

Well, Claire thought now as she walked through the entryway, they weren't dull any longer.

She'd helped paint them a cheery yellow, and curtains she'd paid women to sew hung crisply from the newly repaired and gleaming windows. Chairs had been assembled in the parlor and they lined the walls, awaiting the guests she'd invited for the evening. A small platform had been built in the corner to accommodate the musicians that would play lively music.

The new floor beneath her feet was sturdy and polished. Her shoes tapped against it as she made her way to the kitchen. Long tables reflected the sun that streamed into the room. Later, they'd be overflowing with food and drink. The windows were open and the smell of flowers in full bloom drifted in to mix with that of the floor polish and the smell of hope. Because here, finally, was hope.

The cupboards, she knew as she'd personally seen to it, were stocked and ready. The beds upstairs were made with freshly laundered bedding. There were toys waiting on each of them.

She'd pushed hard to have everything completed this quickly, though it nonetheless took months of hard work. Still, it had been worth it. While the repairs were being seen to, she'd found temporary lodging for those children she'd been able to find on the street, or those who had heard there was someone who had the means to help them.

Claire found the women who used to run the orphanage. They'd been doing what they could to help, but there simply wasn't enough time or resources to look after every child that needed help. With Litton withholding his money and threatening to pull his support from the town if anyone spoke against him, there was little help to be found.

Well, Claire thought, her hands on her hips, there was now. She had learned from the gossip that Litton knew about the reopening, but she'd managed to keep her identity from him. Dressing as a man when necessary continued to have its advantages.

She'd found the perfect people to help her run the orphanage and had promised to pay them well. They wouldn't work for an ogre again. Everyone within those walls, Claire promised, would be treated with dignity and respect or they would personally be shown the door.

There wouldn't be any inappropriate touching or crude suggestions. Still, it wasn't all she was after, and she fervently prayed she'd be able to accomplish what she'd planned for so long. Like the treasure she'd dreamed of finding, she'd also dreamed of justice. She'd found the gold; she had to believe that she'd attain her other goal as well.