Falling for the Pirate (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

Juliana woke to the sound of feet running across the deck. She blinked, disoriented. The bedsheets beside her were cool to the touch. She supposed she couldn’t blame Nate for leaving without waking her, since she had done the same thing yesterday.

And he had left a gift: a canister of hot water just inside the door.

She washed and pulled on her chemise, blushing at the thought of him peeking under the sheets before he left. Two sets of clothes lay on top of the trunk. A blue day dress with silk stockings, and a pressed pair of cotton boy’s clothes.

He’d left them both out, a question. Who did she want to be today, a respectable lady or a pirate’s apprentice? Both of them were pretend, but she appreciated him giving her the choice.

Pirate, she decided.

She dressed quickly and left the room. The boys had regarded her with wary indecision on her first introduction, especially with the captain at her side. But they smiled back sheepishly when she waved a cheery hello this morning. The aged sailors were more taciturn, their faces set into weather-lined scowls. But even they touched their forelocks or gave a respectful nod in passing.

The rich scent of coffee led her back to the galley. The cook was red-faced from the heat. He offered her a cup of steaming black liquid and a bowl of questionable grey substance. She accepted the drink and regretfully declined the porridge.

Bennett was mopping the floors in the dining area.

“Can I help you with that?” she asked.

“Naw, ‘tis my punishment. The quartermaster wouldn’t be happy to find me giving it away.”

“You’re probably right. What is the punishment for?”

“Being out of my bed past midnight.”

“I see.” She was silent a moment, watching him work the heavy strands of the mop beneath the chairs and tables. “Couldn’t sleep, then?”

“Oh, I was right tired. But I’d rather sleep on the deck. Don’t like the closed spaces.”

“And your bed is a closed space?”

He eyed her. “Suppose you don’t know it, but the berth ain’t more than a few feet across. Feels like a coffin.”

No, she wouldn’t know it. All she had for reference was the captain’s bunk, which would have been spacious even on land.

“Have you told anyone how you feel?”

“What’re they gonna do about it? Nothing.”

“You could try. Nate—I mean, Captain Bowen handled the situation yesterday, didn’t he?”

“Only because you were there.”

She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it, dismayed. The boy seemed to believe that. She suspected any further insistence on her part would fall on deaf ears. In fact, he might close up to her completely.

She knew, because Nate was the same way.

When Bennett reached for the pails to carry them up, she grabbed one. “Let me help you.”

He shrugged and led the way outside, his steps nimble enough not to spill any. Juliana, on the other hand, clutched the pail with two hands and managed to spill the soapy water onto her shirtfront. The ship wasn’t rocking overtly, anchored and docked. She imagined it would sway much more at sea. Certainly, everything was bolted down to account for such an occurrence. But even the slight drift managed to set her off balance, the floor not quite where her foot expected it to be.

She heard Nate’s voice before she saw him. He was barking an order, or two, or three. She had to watch her step as she negotiated the steep ladder with a bucket in hand.
Careful.
Through the hatchway. She straightened—and almost ran directly into him.

That would have been a mess.

“Pardon me,” she said breathlessly.

“What are you doing?” He sounded incredulous, though she didn’t see why. It seemed obvious.

“Tossing this overboard. And it is rather heavy, so if you could step aside.”

His expression bemused, he moved enough for her to pass. But he didn’t let her return below so easily. Reluctantly, she met his gaze.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I need you to return to land today.”

He might as well have dumped that bucket of dirty water directly on her head. That was how she felt—shocked by the cold and then rather soggy. It was more than a change of scenery. Land meant a cold, indifferent man, not her passionate pirate. It meant stumbling through his study for clues. It meant being alone. But here on the ship, she had an entire crew to keep her company. And he was always in far better spirits on water than he’d been on land.

Though not at the moment.

“The carriage should arrive shortly,” he said.

“But why?”

“I have to attend to business on land.”

“I could remain here and wait for you.”

He frowned. “No.”

“No?”

“Definitely not.”

He certainly knew how to close her out. His expression was impassive, his body as straight and solid as an obelisk. He had battened down the hatches, ready to weather any storm. Except, he wasn’t really made of wood and metal. He was a man.

She wandered closer. Glancing around to make sure they weren’t being observed, she trailed one finger along his wrist. It should have been a delicate place on him. It was on her. Her tendons and bones drew lines beneath her skin. Pale purple veins were visible inside her wrist. Not him. He was tanned everywhere, even here. His wrists were too thick for her fingers to reach around. But when she strained, she was rewarded anyway, by the beat of his pulse against her thumb.

He swallowed, watching where she touched him. Pale against dark. Soft to hard.

“I want to stay on the ship,” she whispered. “I want to stay near you.”

“I told you, I’m not going to be here.”

She shook her head slowly. “Even so, you’re more here than anywhere.”

His eyes widened minutely, as if she had spoken a secret aloud. Though why should it be? He’d told her as much last night. And he was the captain. The ship was an extension of him.

“All right,” he conceded. “But the boy stays with you. At all times.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Still don’t trust me?”

“A ship isn’t a safe place for—”

“For a woman?”

“For someone who isn’t used to it. Bennett can help you. He can fetch whatever you need. Besides, you’ll be keeping him out of trouble.”

She opened her mouth to tell him about the boy’s dislike of closed spaces…and then shut it again without saying anything. It wasn’t really her secret to tell. Perhaps she could convince Bennett to say something over the course of the day.

“Aye, Captain,” she said. “I’ll stay near Bennett.”

“I expected more of a fight.”

“I have no idea why.”

“Indeed,” he said wryly. “In that case, don’t bother the crew. Stay out of their way. And above all, stay on the ship.”

She nodded, hating her crossed fingers in her pocket. Who knew trousers would be so handy? But this was her chance. She couldn’t lose her nerve now.

Her father’s life might depend on it.

Nate spoke to Bennett briefly before disembarking. Then the boy joined her, and they watched the carriage take their captain away. She felt bereft, lonely. It wasn’t the crew who had kept her company, after all. It was Nate.

Only Nate.

“Do you want to fish?” Bennett asked.

“Can we? From the ship?”

“Oh, aye, I’ve done it loads of times. Handy for sailing, mostly, because of the fresh catch. But Nate said not to do lessons today, just to watch you. And make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”

Indeed,
she thought wryly.

…

Fortune Investments had recently built offices not far from the docks to house the endless stream of solicitors. However, anyone who frequently dealt with them knew business was conducted primarily on the top floor of St. Vincent’s Hotel, the premier location for extravagant lodging.

The Duke of Sinclair maintained a permanent suite of rooms—an entire floor, actually.

The hotel had been his primary residence since shortly after ascending to the title. He had staunchly refused to set foot on his family seat or any of the entailed properties.

Nate lounged in a wingback leather chair, ignoring the expensive brandy in favor of examining the antique globe. The African territories were woefully out of date, making the map useless. However, the room hadn’t been designed for utility. It had been designed to display wealth and power—starting with the man behind his desk.

“Are you even paying attention?” Adrian asked.

Nate pressed his thumb over London and covered up all of England in the process. “Not really.”

They had gone over the plans for the next quarter in detail. And then gone over them again. Adrian was nothing if not conscientious. Nate, on the other hand, did his best work on the deck of a ship. He also knew the routes and the suppliers better than anyone, which was why he reluctantly agreed to the high-level meetings with Adrian.

“You’re still distracted,” Sinclair said. “I thought ruining Hargate would have fixed that.”

Yes, that had been the plan. Except Hargate was still out there somewhere, not ruined enough for Nate’s liking. Not dead, either. More importantly, Hargate’s daughter awaited him back on the ship.

“It’s the girl,” Adrian said. “Finally broke her, did you?”

“The plan changed.”

“And would you care to inform me of the new one?”

Not really. “What would it take to remove me as a partner?”

“You want to quit?” Adrian sounded shocked. Well, that was something. It had been a long time since he could surprise the duke.

“I want to sell my shares. I can still work for the company.”

Adrian laughed. “Hell.”

A wealth of understanding was in that one word. “She thinks I’m merely a captain in your employ. So, what’s the harm?”

“What’s the
harm
? The harm is you wouldn’t be a partner. We started this together, man. And now you want to abandon ship.”

“I told you. I’ll still be captain of the
Nightingale
.”

With a sound of disgust, Adrian stood and paced the rug. “And when she finds out you’re wealthy?”

“What reason is there for her to know?”

“If you’re going to keep secrets anyway, why not keep your shares in the company, too? We kept Fortune Investments’ involvement in the scandal minimal. We simply got lucky buying Hargate Shipping at such a bargain. As long as you don’t tell her about the past, you’re fine.”

“She already knows how I met you. And about prison.”

Adrian’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you never talked about that.”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“Completely foxed. I don’t think you even knew your name when you told me the rest.”

“Yes, well, I was drunk with her, as well. Drunk on whatever it is that makes men stupid around women.”

“Sex?”

“No. It’s more than that. With her, it’s more.”

“Are you saying you trust her?”

“Yes,” he said. And impatiently, again, “Yes. I do. Whatever her father has done, she had no part in it. She honestly believes in his innocence. It will truly break her if she finds out the truth.”

Adrian was quiet a moment. His voice was hushed when he asked, “Are you saying you care for her?”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what I’m saying. Catch up, man.”

With a puff of breath, Adrian sat down across from him. “How the hell was I supposed to know? I never thought you would feel like this for a woman. Let alone admit it.”

“I’m not worried about how I feel for her. I’m worried about what she’ll feel for me once she knows the entire story. Hatred, I’m thinking.”

“Then don’t tell her. The shares are the least of it. The key isn’t her father. It’s your past.”

“I know that,” Nate snapped. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and sighed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all carry our own history with us in one way or another.”

“Perhaps, but rarely in the literal sense. The daughter of my sworn enemy.” Nate shook his head.

“Will you be able to live with that?”

“I must. Because I don’t think I can live without her.”

For once, Adrian had nothing to say. They finished their brandy in a taut and somber air. It felt vaguely like mourning, though what he had lost he wasn’t sure. His bachelorhood? His revenge?

He pondered the question on the ride back to the docks. The sky had already turned deep blue with twilight. Everything came with a price. He had learned that the hard way.

So what, exactly, was he paying to find happiness now?

The answer loitered outside the Hargate Shipping offices. A thief—but unlike Juliana, this one did not attempt to enter the offices. He already knew the papers inside incriminated him.

Nate had always expected a blinding rage to overtake him when he met Stephan Hargate again. So it surprised him to feel so calm. Exceedingly still, like the harbinger of a storm. He saw everything clearly—the dampness that clung to the bricks; the expensive fabric of a fine coat, now sodden and soiled. Red veins staining the whites of his eyes.

Hargate stepped out of the shadows, his stance belligerent and unsteady. “I’ve been waiting for you, Captain.”

“Ten years, by my account. This must be a relief.”

The older man blinked, uncomprehending. He didn’t recognize Nate. Not surprising, considering how much he would have changed in a decade. But not to register the name, at least?

Now
he felt the rage, simmering so deep and endlessly dark. Too much to be contained. If he let it out unchecked, it would do more than strike down the old man in front of him. It would swallow Nate whole.

Hargate blustered. “I know who you are. One of the bastards who took my business away from me.”

“That I am.” Fury raced through Nate, making him sweat. He counted the ways he could kill Hargate. A well placed blow to the face ought to do it, especially in the other man’s inebriated state. A dash of his head on the bricks.

Or he could throw him off the edge of the dock. And this time, Nate wouldn’t jump in to save anyone.

“I know about Juliana.” Hargate sneered, unaware how close he was to sudden death.

Nate’s voice lowered. “What about her?”

“I know you’re fucking her.”