Falling for the Pirate (10 page)

Chapter Ten

Juliana stared out the porthole of the captain’s cabin, which gave a direct line of sight to the back of Hargate Shipping. So this was how Nate had seen her that night. The night she’d been desperate to find evidence to support her father, to restore her family’s name and fortune, and broken into the company offices.

And if she had succeeded, she would have ruined Nate’s employer.

Whoever now owned Hargate Shipping was responsible for the lies and plotting against her father. To hear her father tell it, they were no better than common criminals.
Anyone will lie for the right price,
her father had told her. He’d cursed the men who’d taken over his company, called them looters and thieves and pirates.

No wonder she had always thought of Nate as her pirate. She had to admit, he looked the part. Though he hadn’t caused her father’s ruination. He was merely a pawn employed by the real culprits.

She couldn’t allow his career, his livelihood, to be harmed on her quest.

Neither could she ignore the call of family loyalty that required she pursue it.

The door opened and shut behind her. She felt him stand beside her.

“Quite a climb,” he said, seeing the direction of her gaze.

Yes, it had been. She hadn’t felt the exertion then, fueled by adrenaline and a desperate need for justice. She didn’t feel any of that now, only a lingering sense of dread.

She took a deep breath. “I have something to tell you. My name is Juliana Hargate. My father used to own the building you found me in. He owned the company your boss took over.”

“You remember?” Nate’s voice sounded rough. With shock? With disgust?

“It came back to me on deck, with Bennett. Because that night…well, that night I had been trying to find evidence.” She turned to face him. “I suppose you know the story. That he was accused of fraud. Of embezzlement.”

Nate cleared his throat. “And you think he is innocent.”

“I wanted to think so. Now I’m not sure. But he is still my father.”

“Juliana… where is he?”

She smiled sadly. “I don’t know. He disappeared before they came to arrest him.”

Nate’s face appeared dark, shadowed. He seemed almost sinister. “And you don’t know where he went?”

“No, he didn’t even tell me he was leaving.”

“I see.”

“I wasn’t trying to steal anything. At least, not in the way you thought. I just wanted to prove he was innocent.” Anxiety rose up, fanned by his silence. “Are you shocked? Do you despise me now?”

“No,” he answered slowly. “I suspected you had ties to Hargate from the beginning.”

Yes, he had accused her of spying for a competitor. He had been right. Words tumbled forth in a rush of breath. “I want you to know you can trust me. It was never my intent to harm anyone, even then. But now that I know you…after all you’ve done to help me…I would never jeopardize your career.”

His expression grew strange, almost comical. “My career?”

“You weren’t a part of that, anyway. Companies bought and sold. Your work is here, on your ship. I would never do anything to jeopardize your job.”

“Ah.”

“But you would never have sent me to gaol, would you? I know that now.”

He was quiet a moment. “Probably not.”

“Why is that? I know you hate when I say that you’re kind. And I was there to steal from the company you work for, exactly as you said. Why didn’t you turn me over to the Thames River Police?”

His expression was impassive. “The obvious reasons, I suppose. Not partial to authority. Or the conditions of prison.”

“You’re a reformer,” she said, surprised.

His hollow laugh filled the cabin. “Not quite. It’s simply a personal preference.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you mean that you…?”

Cold humor lit his gaze. “Yes, I’ve been to prison. That’s who you’ve been living with. That’s who touched you last night. So, you can see why I’m not exactly offended by your single night of recklessness. You played at being a thief for one night. I’ve lived as a convicted man most of my life.”

He was trying to scare her. The same way he’d tried to scare her in his house, all coarse words and cruel irony. But she wasn’t afraid.

She stepped closer and placed a hand on his chest. His heart beat beneath her palm. “Nate.”

However, he wasn’t finished. He turned his hand over and spread his fingers, revealing three black circles on one side of his index finger, normally hidden from view. It looked almost as if he’d drawn them himself, with ink. But why would he…

“Yes,” he said grimly. “One for each year I was in prison.”

“But how?”

“With ink. And a needle.”

“Didn’t it hurt?”

“Curious, are you? Shall I describe it in gory detail? Will I be your personal penny dreadful? I can assure you it hurt least of anything in that place.”

Her voice came out calmer than she felt. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, dismissive. “Change back into the dress. I’m taking you home.”

She was silent a moment, as the reality of his condition sank in. A convict. Her enemy.

“It’s your home,” she said quietly. “Not mine.”

His gaze turned sharp, cutting her to the quick. “Where else would you go, Juliana?”

She winced at the sound of her name. Her father had been the last person to speak her real name. She had no idea where he was, if he was safe or even alive. And even if she did know where he was, she didn’t have a single farthing to help him.

But Nate did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, lifting her chin. “Are you feeling well? I knew the doctor was a hack.”

“That’s not it. I can’t impose on you any longer, Nate. It wouldn’t be right.”

He leaned closer, a breath away. “And if I want you to stay? In my house? In my bed?”

She whispered, “Then it definitely wouldn’t be right.”

He chuckled darkly as his head descended. She let her eyes fall shut. His lips met hers, the warmth at once shocking and familiar. He pressed her against the bulkhead, trapping her between smooth planks and the rough landscape of his body. The contrast made her gasp. She leaned into him, seeking the hot coals of his skin, singeing her through the fabric of his clothes.

When he pulled back, the fire in his eyes was banked. “Would it be so bad?” he asked quietly. “Let me provide for you. I’d never hurt you.”

She would be his mistress. It was a good offer, considering she was penniless and already ruined. And she would be able to help her father—if she ever saw him again. But the words to accept stuck in her throat. At one time, she had been destined for marriage.

His eyes searched hers. What did he see?

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know you that well.”

He was kind enough not to mention what they had done last night. In the carnal matter, she knew him well enough.

Though, not completely.

As his mistress she would warm his bed. She would learn his body, and he would learn hers. The idea should have repulsed her, but she felt instead a tightening between her legs. These were the feelings that had driven her into her friend’s bed at school, where nimble fingers had explored and probed until they’d found a shuddering resolution. But it had never been as strong as this, nor as meaningful. As if the clench of her body wanted something to surround.

His hand ran down her arm, lightly, setting off trails of heat that led straight to that place. “Do you know what it does to me to see you in those clothes?” he murmured, his eyes stormy, jaw flexing.

“It makes you angry,” she guessed.

“That’s one way of putting it.” When she looked at him uncertainly, he shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. “Spend the day on the ship, if you want to know me. I have to work, but I can show you around first. If you get bored, the carriage can return you home.”

“The ship,” she repeated.

“The ship. Me. There’s no distinction. I’m the salt in the wood, the wind in the sails.”

Well, well. Her reader of gothic literature knew how to turn a phrase. A smile tugged at her lips. “Well, I’ve already learned one thing about you. You’re a poet.”

He scoffed, his cheeks staining red. “Are insults necessary?”

“I accept your invitation,” she said, as if she were attending a ball. “But only three dances, no more. I would not want people to talk.”

“Of course. Rest assured, I place the utmost value on your virtue.”

Her smile slipped. His words were playful, suggestive, but he’d hit closer to the mark than he realized. He had guessed immediately that she was a well-bred woman of fallen fortune—but neither of them had realized just how recently she’d taken the fall.

Hours, in fact.

She hadn’t yet had time to accept her fate. Maybe that was why she couldn’t accept his proposition to stay with him. Despite how earnestly he had asked. Despite the tender way he’d kissed her. So different from the grasping, crowding man he’d been in the upstairs hallway of his townhouse. And from his agitated manner when he’d visited her.

Being on his ship seemed to calm him. The almost imperceptible rocking seemed to soothe him. He said he would return her to his home, but his real home was the sea.

…

“Are you sure she should be up there?” Bennett asked, looking doubtful.

“She’s as good a climber as anyone here,” Nate said wryly. “Trust me on that.”

As they watched, Juliana reached the top rung and swung herself into the crow’s nest. At least on his ship she could use the safety system installed for the newer recruits. Enhanced guide lines and a wider platform on the masthead. A misstep twenty feet above the deck would be dangerous—and he’d injured her enough for one lifetime. He didn’t want to risk her. He didn’t want to
use
her.

Not anymore.

“Do you think she’ll stick around?” the boy asked.

“I don’t know the answer to that.” As much as he wished he did.

She waved down to him, and called, “Come up here.”

Then she was gone again, leaving him to stare up at her as if he’d gone mad. Which he probably had. He’d given up the only things that mattered to him—family, honor. Revenge. And traded them for a woman who would leave him the second she learned what he’d done.

All because he fancied himself in love. Nate Bowen, a romantic. The notion was so ridiculous he wanted to weep.

Her face appeared again. “Well, Captain?”

He could do nothing but follow her up. She stood at the railing, leaning into the wind. Her deep brown hair whipped around her. A particularly heavy gust made her laugh, and it took his breath away.

“Is it always like this?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“Exciting.”

He laughed. “If this seems exciting, wait until you see the ship in open waters. Then it’s a thing of beauty.”

Her smile dimmed, and he cursed himself for speaking. Of course she wouldn’t see the ship in motion. At least, not from the lookout. She could only wave him off as they pulled away from the docks, just as his mother had done.

His throat constricted as he imagined himself on deck, watching her grow smaller and further away. He would have a hundred tasks to do in that moment, but he knew he would drink up the sight of her while he still could.

Hell, he was doing that now.

He needed to do something to wipe that lost look off her face, to recover the happiness that had been there. “You could come with me,” he said impulsively.

She looked suspicious. “Come with you where?”

Really, he ought to learn how to stop talking. “On
Nightingale
. We depart soon.”

“And what would I be?” Her tone was playful, but her eyes were grave. “Your first mate?”

“You would be my lover.”

“So I’d be confined to your cabin?”

“I’d take you wherever you wanted to go,” he said.

Sadness tinged her smile. “And what if I wanted to go home?”

His chest tightened. Home. Of course she would want her home, her family. Even if she didn’t have a good reason to hate Nate, she would prefer her father and her friends in society. He was keeping her from all of that, in more ways than one.

Now more than ever he wanted to please her, to give her what she wanted—but how could he, when that would mean losing her. He’d already sacrificed his revenge. How could he also lose the one woman who could fill that void?

“Ask me anything but that,” he said hoarsely.

He expected her to denounce him. To demand what he could give her, what he
should
give her. Instead she seemed to seriously consider his offer.

“Anything?”

He nodded, unable to speak.

“How did you come to be a captain?”

That was an easier question than he deserved. “After I was released from gaol, it was difficult to find work. I was an uneducated brute with no manners or skills. Eventually I found a position at a whorehouse. My job was to make sure the men weren’t too rough…unless they paid the right amount.”

Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t turn away from him in disgust or fear. Though she might, before the tale was done.

“One night, a woman died from a bad child labor. Blood stained the walls. I couldn’t stay there any longer. I decided I would rather starve.”

“That sounds terrible,” she whispered.

“It was gruesome.” He looked into the sunlight to dispel the shadowed memories. “After I left there, I found work in odd places. But mostly I stayed near the docks and hoped to be selected for a day’s work. A day’s hard labor meant I could eat for days. Though I rarely got called up more than twice a week.”

She slowly reached for his hand. He let her.

“There were thousands of men who stood at the gates each morn, hoping to be called by the gangers. Many would sleep on the opposite bank, so commonly used as a bed that the grass had worn away. It was impossible to know each one, but stories would circulate of a gentleman among us. He was noble by birth. He could speak five languages. But he worked and starved alongside us. It was more a matter of curiosity that I sought him out. His name was Adrian Mallory, and he is now the seventh Duke of Sinclair.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A duke?”

“Indeed, though that wasn’t his title at the time. His older brother held the title. A dissolute bully who had spent whatever coin his father had not. Adrian had a trust in his name, but it was only accessible after he turned twenty-five. Or by authorization of his brother, but he’d sooner steal it than grant an early release.”