As she watched, he grabbed hold of the rigging and climbed the ropes to stand on the sail’s halyard. Her breath caught as he let go. Incredibly, he balanced on the narrow foothold and reached above his head to tug on a tangled corner of sail. When the jumbled mess refused to let loose, he hooked an elbow around a rope, leaned forward at a precarious angle, and pulled a knife from the waistband of his trousers. With the blade between his teeth, he exchanged hands, took the knife in his right, and hacked at the rope.
It broke free to dangle in the wind.
Quicker than a blink, he stood on the deck before the man once more.
India
released the breath she’d been holding and unclenched fists she hadn’t realized she’d closed. She flushed at her silly worry. After all, Richard’s praise of Cain’s expert skill had drawn her to the myth of Teddy.
Cain backed away from the sailor, his attention focused on the useless rope. He pointed to the frayed end, then swung his arm wide to the opposite side of the sail, as if he instructed the sailor to rethread the entire length. When he dropped his arm, his gaze locked on her.
Even with the distance separating them,
India
felt the crackle of energy behind his sky-blue stare. The fine hairs along her arms lifted. Her nerves rose in anticipation. Something down deep in her soul slowly turned over.
He’d changed her in ways she had yet to fully comprehend. Still, somehow, she understood when she set foot in
England
again, she’d never be the same. A part of her would always belong to the pirate Cain.
The same part that would always wonder what it might have been like to sail at his side as his lover.
Her heart twisted against their mismatched fates. Desperate to escape all the conflicting emotion that coursed through her, she fled the deck. She needed solitude to sort through it all. Sturdy walls to bar her from temptation. For as long as she was bound to Richard, she’d never know freedom, and entertaining whimsy would only offer torture.
She hurried along the deck, oblivious to the bodies she passed. Through watery eyes, men blurred into colorful blobs she didn’t dare look at for fear they’d see her tears. She was a prisoner, for heaven’s sake, captive on a
pirate
ship. Cain intended to kill her intended, and all she could think about was how to create a world where they could be together. What was the matter with her? Had illness erased every last fraction of her sense?
A hand shot out to grab her around the waist. She yipped and pushed at the strong arm.
“Careful, princess, else you’ll trip.”
As the words registered, she looked to her feet and the pail of water inches from her right ankle. “Oh.” She twisted to thank her rescuer.
Drake’s dark grey eyes glinted with wry amusement. He loosened his hold but held onto her elbow until she regained her footing. His mouth curved in a grin. “In a hurry?”
“I, ah…” Warmth infused her face. She what? Had been running away from Cain? On his ship? Straight to his cabin? “My legs are tired. I thought to rest a bit.”
“I see.”
She could tell by Drake’s laughing eyes he didn’t see. He didn’t even believe her. But he possessed the good grace to go along with her lie. Humiliated,
India
pulled on her arm.
He held tighter. “I’ll walk with you.”
“That’s quite unnecessary. I can find my way.” She nibbled on her lower lip, searching for something, anything, that would free her from the infamous cold-hearted killer. “I don’t want to take you away from more important things.”
Undaunted, Drake took a step forward. “The only important task I have presently is insurin’ the buckets don’t jump out to bite your ankles.”
She couldn’t help herself—she grinned.
“I hear their teeth are quite sharp.”
A contrary laugh bubbled in the back of her throat. “Indeed?”
With a most serious expression Drake answered, “Aye, worse’n a shark’s.” His mouth twitched, and the ruse fell away with a mischievous wink. “Trust me, you don’t want the cook mendin’ those wounds. Mind you, he’s our surgeon, but his preference is to chop.”
India
giggled again.
As Drake escorted her into the private hall that led to Cain’s cabin, he glanced down with a smirk. “You think I jest.”
“No, no,” she vowed in earnest. “I believe you.”
He opened Cain’s door, but when she took a step forward, he pulled her to a halt. She gave him a quizzical lift of her brows.
Drake made to speak, but changed his mind with a frown. The humor behind his gaze faded, and he studied her with far more concern.
“Is something the matter?”
“Has Cain advised you about the crew?”
India
blinked. “No.”
“I don’t suppose he would. He wouldn’t want to worry you. But you should know, princess, be wary when you walk on decks. Though every man aboard swore an oath not to raise a hand to you, there’re some who’ve never sailed with us.”
Apprehension stiffened her spine. She looked beyond Drake’s shoulder to the open door they’d come through and the men beyond. “It’s not safe on deck?”
“Oh, it’s safe enough by day. Just be certain you stay in the open where more than one pair of eyes can see you. Agreed?” His genuine smile soothed.
“Yes.”
Drake chuckled, and the amused light to his gaze returned with his blink. “Aye. If you dress like a rover, you should speak like one.
Aye.
”
“I shall remember that.” She slid her elbow out of his grasp and stepped into the cabin.
He extended his hand. In his open palm lay a sturdy key. “Lock the door if you become concerned.”
As she reached for it, he closed his fingers around the length of iron. One dark eyebrow arched. “Not a word ‘bout my givin’ you the means to lock Cain out of his cabin, aye?”
“
Aye
.”
With a nod of approval, he opened his fingers. She plucked the key free and shut the door. Laughing to herself, she inspected the ornate molding on the key’s flared end. The means to lock Cain out of his own quarters—loyalty amongst thieves evidently only went so far.
How curious that the fabled Drake possessed wit. From all the rumors, he was every inch as deadly as the terrifying Blackbeard. As unpredictable as the psychotic Low. True, she knew of no account where Drake showed mercy, but the man she’d just met didn’t strike her as cold-hearted or insane.
She stuffed the key beneath the mattress. Who would have ever thought she’d end up aboard a ship with two
captains
of
T
he Flying Gang and find herself unscathed
?
Her gaze dropped to Cain’s pillow.
Perhaps not entirely unscathed. But beyond the fact she was an inadvertent party to her intended’s murder, she couldn’t find reason to complain. She groaned at the thought. What was she saying? She had plenty of complaints. Lack of clothes, lack of privacy, men who might do her bodily harm, men she
wanted
to do her bodily harm…
Good heavens, at this rate, with her present inability to think straight, she’d end up in the gossip rags as part of the pirates’ little brigade.
A wholly unacceptable possibility.
No, she must think of how to stop this nonsense. How to convince Cain into not only turning her loose, but also into letting Richard live. If she paid close enough attention, the key to succeeding in those lofty goals would present itself. As errors showed in math, Cain’s would make themselves known as well. He couldn’t keep his weakness hidden forever.
Something
would give, and she would know exactly what to do.
In the meantime, keeping her distance from Cain was the smartest decision she could make.
Don’t let him close. Absolutely not close enough to touch.
All very sound logic, but by the stars above, saying and doing were two completely different things. She’d have to dig deep, deeper than she ever had, to find the strength to mind her own unbending orders.
351
Bound By Decency
11
C
ain wiped the sweat from his brow with the corner of his shirt. He huffed out a hard breath, the trip up the rigging a practice he didn’t make habit. But the greenhorn showed enough promise that Cain felt it worth his time to instruct the man on the proper repairs, as opposed to giving the chore to an experienced seaman. Lads didn’t learn unless someone invested in them. This one had the makings of a master topman.
“Trim her up, lay her straight, and tie her tight. Who’s on the next watch?”
“Barney, sir.” The
young man
stood tall and straight, his chin puffed out to gain a larger stature.
Cain shook his head. “Not sir. There’s not a drop of blue blood in me, and if there was
,
I’d cut it out. You’ll call me Captain. When you’ve sailed with me three years, and not a day sooner, you may call me Cain.”
“Y-yes, si—er, Captain.”
Holding back a chuckle, Cain clapped a narrow shoulder that had yet to acquire a man’s full strength. “Now, Tom, you won’t finish that task before eight bells. Barney’s been fitting ropes as long as I can remember. You’d be well served to stay on through the forenoon watch.”
Tom bobbed his head enthusiastically. “Yes, Captain.”
“You tell Barney I gave you leave to lend a hand. Otherwise, Old Barnacle there, will grouse about until he scrapes your nerves raw.” He gave the lad a grin. “He’s a crusty bastard, but he’ll teach you well.” With a jerk of his head, he indicated the slackened line. “Go on, lively now.”
Tom grabbed the rigging, fitted his toe between the knots, and began to climb. Safe from the prying eyes of youth, Cain turned his attention to the forecastle where he’d last seen
India
. Expecting to find her still standing on the deck and her curious stare fastened on him, when he looked on the empty platform, his brows drew into a tight line. Where the devil had she run off to?
Even better, why? Had the rocking of the boat disturbed her sensitive belly? Or, in leaving her alone, had he invited one of the sorry curs aboard to harass her person?
He glanced around, unwilling to have the men observe his concern. To a band of brigands, a coveted prize became all that more enticing. Moreover, while Cain would suffer Drake’s irritating amusement, he cared little to encounter the same belligerence from every dog who crossed his shadow.
As his gaze trekked down the main deck, across to the opposite side, and even up to the quarterdeck, Cain’s apprehension rose. She must be ill, for she’d been enjoying the whale and looked at peace high on the bow. Yet if
India
’s nausea had returned, he must take the blame. He’d brought her above, his sole purpose to seduce her with a little gallantry. Had he pushed beyond what she was able?
He ducked beneath the sagging bowline and hurried to his cabin. He reached for the door, his chest in a vise. Damnation, he’d let his foolish plan override reason. He should have let her rest. Should have spent the day soliciting her affections in the cabin, if he must.
He barged inside, convinced he’d find her huddled in the bed. “
India
?”
From before the tall row of shelves that held all the trinkets he’d collected on his travels, she whipped around with a surprised squeak.
All the constricted air in his lungs spilled forth in a rush. The hand he clutched around the doorknob relaxed. Not abed. Thank the stars.
Cain searched her face, certain he would see the grey pallor he had once mistaken as fear. But he found no trace of ash. Her cheeks held the robust color of life. Her eyes, although wide, still held their damnable gleam. His frown deepened. “Did you find the decks displeasing?”
“No. The walk was refreshing.” Her hands wound together at her waist, as if she sought to hide some great secret. Suspicion rose. Perhaps he’d been a greater fool by believing her adamant claim she knew nothing about Richard. If Richard had told her about the one treasure Cain revered, perhaps she sought to find it.
Cain glanced over her shoulder at the shelves and the small jewel-encrusted box that sat between two urns of solid ivory. Untouched, the lid lay closed. From the lack of streaks in the fine layer of dust that covered the shelf, he knew she had not disturbed the royal heirloom.
“Why did you leave?”
“I, ah…” She crossed to the desk where she fingered a rolled
-
up chart. “I thought it would be prudent to take my leave. You were occupied. I didn’t
wish
to impose on your time.”
Impose on his time? Not bloody likely.
“What
is this
?” She tapped a fingernail on his leather-bound journal.
The change in subject was so obvious a deaf man could have heard it. Nevertheless, Cain entertained her conversation. If he pressed her to explain her absence, he left himself open to explain why he cared. He joined her at the desk and opened the ledger to the long columns of names and numbers. “My logs.”
Surprise edged
India
’s voice. “Logs? I didn’t think pirates documented their activities. Isn’t that a bit risky?”
He gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “Most don’t. I can’t seem to break the habit.” Running a finger down the itemized list of names that filled the leftmost column on every page, he explained, “This is the full listing of the crew. I record their shares of profits.”
A smile played on
India
’s full lips as she tipped her chin up to look at him. “Profits?”
“Yes, the things we, ah…” Understanding she teased and that she already knew the answer, Cain grinned with her. “
Acquire
.”
“Acquire. That is a nice word for it.” She picked up the book and thumbed through the pages. If she looked long enough, she’d notice the gaping expanse of time from the last time he’d had cause to track shares of plunder and the present voyage. She would also observe different names in the key positions captains didn’t make it habit to replace. Had he been at sea as Cain these last two years, the entries would have matched.
Her fingertip paused mid-descent. Delicately arched eyebrows drew infinitesimally together. “You have an error in your mathematics.”
Cain moved next to her side and pushed the binding down. “Where?”
“Here.” She tapped the page. “You overpaid each man by a hundred pounds.”
As Cain caught just enough of the entry to read the date, she pulled the book out of his grasp and turned her shoulders away. “Good heavens, this is a lot of money, Cain.” Moving to the desk, she plopped the book down, smoothed out the pages, and leaned over to study the figures. “Why on earth did you convert everything to pounds? Wouldn’t it have been simpler t
o pay them out in the coin you”
—she glanced up through her long eyelashes— “
acquired
?”
“What the devil are you going on about?” He marched around the corner of the desk and elbowed in at her side.
“Look.” She pointed to the digits. “You logged 128 doubloons, 823 pistoles, and 12 French Louis’s per man. But you calculated their share in pounds. The conversion would be 1178 pounds per share, but you gave everyone 1278.” She looked up. Astonishment registered behind her gaze before she blinked. “Who carries that kind of coin in their hold? You had forty-seven men. That’s a little over fifty-five thousand pounds! And you shorted yourself forty-seven hundred!”
Unable to believe her claim, he pulled the ledger over in front of him. He chewed on the side of his tongue as he recalculated the columns. Though half the men he’d paid now lay in Davy Jones’ Locker and he’d regained all the shares they left behind, the idea he’d made such a grievous error appalled him. One by one he stepped through the calculations.
“I fail to follow your logic, little bird. The math adds correctly.” He pushed the book over in front of her. “Check again. 12 Louis equal 10 pounds.”
“10.2.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Insignificant. The pistoles convert to—Oh, Christ!”
India
turned a smug smile on him. “I told you it was incorrect.”
Cain grumbled beneath his breath and thumped the ledger shut. “Indeed you did.” As the incidents surrounding the exceptional take floated into his memory, he chortled quietly. Opening the journal once more, he flipped several pages beyond the columns she’d fixated on and pushed his index finger to one underlined entry. “It’s of no matter, really. Royce took it all back, and then some, when he ran down the schooner I wagered he could not.”
Shock widened
India
’s eyes, but the twitch of her mouth belied her struggle not to laugh. She cleared her features with the clearing of her throat and asked with contrived condescension, “You made sport of picking victims?”
He yielded to a husky chuckle. “My dear, sweet, little bird, the tremor of your voice betrays you. Laugh if you wish. I will keep your secret.”
The most delightful giggle he had ever heard trilled from her throat. She covered it quickly with a cough and pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I will not laugh at the misfortune of the innocent.” Though her words scolded, her eyes danced with mischief. In the next instant, her composure shattered, and she dissolved into laughter. “Oh, Cain, tell me you didn’t wager amongst yourselves about whether you could overtake other vessels.”
“Very well, I shan’t tell you such.”
Her eyes watered with her laughter. Cain looked on in fascination. Amused. By God, she was
amused.
This little prim and proper merchant’s daughter found his habits amusing. In a thousand years, he never would have guessed her reaction would be thus. No law-abiding citizen would hesitate to scold, let alone women who were more prone to sympathy and gentleness. Yet
India
spared him her tongue. Gifted him with her good humor.
His eyes swept down her body, seeing her in a new light. Indeed, she was still every inch the breathtaking woman who made his blood simmer. But the primness he’d initially contrived, the delicacy he imagined, he realized were false. She had spirit, far more than she displayed with her courage. Like he, she possessed a wild will. Only hers lay cloaked behind a proper shell.
The urge to drag her into his arms and discover just how wild that spirit ran rammed into his gut. In one swift, heavy beat of his heart, the need to know everything he could about this enigma of a woman possessed him. How she came to be so skilled with numbers. Where she learned to speak so boldly. And above all, what she would do if he refused to listen to her protests of loyalty and honor and showed her all the pleasures that a man and woman could create.
She would be so easy to corrupt.
As she dabbed at her tears, she choked out, “I’m wretched for laughing. Absolutely wicked.”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what wickedness is.” Even his ears could hear the hoarseness that crept into his throat and made speaking difficult.
India
tipped her head up. Dark lashes lifted to reveal deep pools of aqua. In a near whisper, she replied, “I believe I know a thing or two.”
Time stood
still
as they stared at one another. The very air crackled with rising energy, sexual awareness that glinted in
India
’s captivating eyes. Cain’s breathing hardened. Slowly he rose.
India
didn’t move. Her eyes held his as he closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek in his palm. Her breath caught audibly as he drew the pad of his thumb over her lush, parted lips.
“I can teach you more,” he murmured.
Cain felt the tremble roll through her, and sense shattered through the haze of want. This conversation was wrong, all wrong. God’s teeth, what had come over him? He didn’t want to corrupt
India
. To do so would be a worse sin than even killing Richard. Richard had cause to die.
India
remained an innocent. He wouldn’t commit the final injustice and march her directly into the devil’s hands by spoiling all that was good and decent within her. True, his body might hunger for her, but he couldn’t bring himself to stoop that low. He’d protected her across every league they sailed away from
England
, and now, evidently, he must protect her from himself.
He stepped back, distancing himself further from the sweet temptation of her rosy lips. “I must oversee the repairs. I will join you for supper.”
“Cain?”
Her call stopped him at the door. He looked back, unable to do more than lift an eyebrow.
Her confidence had retreated. She worked her hands at her waist, twisting them around each other in restless agitation. She nibbled on her lower lip, her expression laden with hesitant uncertainty. After a moment, she dismissed whatever thought plagued her with a tentative smile. “Is there something I could
do
? At home, I rarely sat idle. I’m quite…” She paused, her brow crinkling as if she struggled to find words. With a subtle shake of her head, she finished, “Bored, confined in here.”