Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (10 page)

And was it possible to uncover the answer before they reached Santo Domingo?

*

The hatch opened.
Late afternoon light streamed in, set the dust motes to dancing.

“That will be Aidan with your supper,” Jacques said.

Grace had remained on deck for hours but eventually she’d become sleepy and asked to go below. She’d only awakened five minutes ago and judging by the drowsy look on Jacques’ face as he stretched back on one of the chairs flanking the table, he’d napped as well.

“I hope you’re hungry, Grace,” Aidan said as he descended the ladder, balancing a tray in one hand. “Paddy had a heavy hand when he heaped the food onto your plate.”

“’Tis grateful I am to him, Aidan, as I feel as though I’m starving.” And if her appetite kept growing, she’d be bigger than an ox by the time the babe was born.

At the sound of Aidan’s voice, Carracks became very active.

Squawk
. “Outside. Outside.”

Balancing the tray with one hand, Aidan reached into his pocket and handed the bird a nut with the other. “I’ll take you outside later,” he promised.

Carracks turned away, content for the moment with his food.

“Paddy is after me own heart,” Grace sighed when Aidan set the tray onto the table and she saw the stack of potato pancakes. “Two meals of boxty. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Aidan’s chuckle brought her gaze round. “They aren’t that good, Grace.”

“I’ll second that,” Jacques said. He came to his feet, stretched. “But it beats weevil-infested biscuits.” He tipped his head to Grace. “Good evening, miss.”

“Good night, Jacques, and thank you.”

He waved his hand in acknowledgement and left. Grace took her seat at the table, smiled at the pancakes. She cut a large piece, folded it into her mouth and closed her eyes. Fields, acres and acres of green rolling hills appeared in her vision. “’Tis as if I’ve a piece of home with each bite.”

She heard Aidan scrape a chair across the floor and settle into it. “What’s it like? Ireland?”

Grace let the vision float away before opening her eyes. “’Tis magic, it is. I’m not talking about the faeries we grow up believing in, but the land itself. ’Tis greener than the most brilliant emerald. The seasons can be harsh and the cold can bite through to your bones, but there’s nothing like coming in from the wet, sitting in front of a roaring fire, and eating a hearty bowl of soup.” His stare had her wiping her chin and cheeks. “What? Do I have food on me face?”

“I’ve never heard anyone talk of home the way you do. It really must be magic.”

Her heart yearned. “It really is,” she agreed.

“Yet you left.”

“Not by choice, I promise you.”

“Still, I can’t imagine having such fond memories.”

“You didn’t like your home?” She took another bite.

“I never had one. I was raised as a slave on a plantation. When I fled, it was the best day of my life.”

“Oh, Aidan.” She set down her fork. “’Tis awful. Have you been with Steele since you left the plantation?”

He shook his head. “When Samantha escaped the plantation, she took me with her. She’s my family now. Well, she and her husband, Luke, her sister, Alicia.” He laughed. “And there’s more. Husbands, friends, their children. I went from having no family to having an extensive one.”

“Is Steele part of that family?”

“If you were to ask him, I’m sure he’d say no and yet we consider him a part of it. As a rule, he prefers his own company but it proves harder to do once we make port.”

Grace pushed her empty plate aside. “That should hold me until morning.”

“I hope you don’t mind but Steele told me about the babe. Are you feeling all right?”

“I am. A little tired, very hungry, but I don’t think those be unusual reactions.”

“Not from what I’ve seen.”

Grace arched a brow.

“Between Alicia and Claire, I’ve been around my share of pregnant women.”

“Alicia is Samantha’s sister and Claire is who Steele taking me to?” she asked, just to be clear she had it right.

“Yes.”

“Does Samantha not have children?”

Sadness crept into Aidan’s voice. “No, though she desperately wants them, they haven’t been fortunate enough to conceive any.”

Grace put a hand over her belly. Despite this babe’s origins, she already loved it. What would it be to want one and never be given the chance?

“Does Steele have a family?”

Compassion filled Aidan’s brown eyes. “He has sisters somewhere, and he had a brother.”

“Had?”

“Vincent died just before Cale took over as Steele.”

“Cale?”

Aidan grimaced. “Don’t tell him I told you or I’ll be swabbing the deck for the next month. Cale is the captain’s real name. He goes by Sam Steele now, but before he took on this ship, he went by Cale Hunter.”

Cale. She rolled the name over in her mind, decided it suited the gruff man.

“He has no wife or children of his own?”

Aidan leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms. “You’re very curious about the captain.”

“Well, he did save me life.” She grabbed her fork, turned it in her hand. “Sure and he isn’t an easy man to understand. I was simply trying to make sense of him.”

Aidan laughed. “Ah, well, when you do, let the rest of us know.” His smile faded as he straightened and leaned forward. “Grace, Cale is a solitary man, but a good one. There isn’t much we know about him and we don’t push. He’s earned my respect and I won’t betray him by speaking of him.”

Feeling chastised, Grace set her fork onto her plate.

“I don’t blame you for being curious, we all are. We’ve simply accepted there are things about him we’ll never know. Now, if you’ve the desire, he thought you might like to meet a fellow countryman. The men have all been fed so Paddy should be alone. I’m sure he’d appreciate some company while he cleans the galley.”

“But I thought—”

“I’ll stay, per the captain’s orders, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a visit.”

Joy filled her heart, spread into a smile. “Oh, Aidan, ’tis a grand idea!” And the gesture, so thoughtful, added another layer to the mystery that was Steele. Regardless, she would be sure to thank him later. For now, she simply couldn’t wait to meet Paddy.

She barely gave the crew a passing thought as she followed Aidan up from Steele’s cabin and across to the main hatch. She did, however, smile her thanks to Steele. His expression remained stoic but he gave a slight nod to acknowledge her.

As they approached the galley, lively whistling filled her ear. She recognized the melody; it was a jig she’d danced to many times. Regardless of the fact they’d been living in hiding in a tiny borrowed shack, there had always been music after supper. The tin whistle and the fiddle were some of the few possessions her da had rescued from their home before it was taken from them. When the evening meal was done, her mother would play the whistle; either her da or her brother, Colin, played the fiddle while Grace sang and danced. If Colin were on the fiddle, then her da would join in the dance. Oh, how he’d loved to dance.

Longing swept over her. If only it were possible to jump back into those memories and return to Ireland. Even in hiding, she’d felt the bonds of family, the sense of who she was. Her family, her homeland, had meant everything to her. And she’d wanted, so desperately, to stay and fight for what was rightfully theirs but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

Her da had thought to spare them by surrendering. Well, he’d hardly managed that, had he? Living in hiding had at least been living. Servitude on a plantation, endless days of backbreaking work in the scorching sun with no stockings or hat, sometimes with little water was hardly an improvement. They’d been used like dogs, poked with sticks, or worse, if they faltered or if it was believed they weren’t working fast enough.

The bite of her fingernails into her palms and Aidan’s soft touch on her shoulder brought her back to the present. She opened her fists, shook out her hands. It was too late to change things now. Still, it didn’t mean hearing a lively tune which reminded her of the best parts of her homeland couldn’t be appreciated. She stood until the melody ended and then signaled to Aidan she was ready.

“’Tis a fine song you’d be whistling,” she said after striding into the small but tidy galley behind Aidan.

A short, red-haired man with eyes green as the fields of home turned from the stove and the steaming pot upon it.

“’Tis a favorite of mine.” He wiped his hands on his trousers, held one out in greeting. “Me name’s Paddy. The Cap’n said you’d be coming. ’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Aye, and yours.” Grace took his hand. “I want to thank you for the boxty. ’Twas nice to have something of home.”

His eyes took on a far away look. “Every time I make it ’tis as though I’m there, sitting in front of the hearth with a steamin’ cup o’ tea in me hand.”

“You miss it as well.”

He blinked, focused on her. “I miss parts of it, to be sure, but I bloody don’t miss the fightin’.”

“Paddy, you’re on a pirate ship; you fight all the time!”

Aidan chuckled as he settled himself in the corner of the galley, leaving Grace and Paddy some semblance of privacy. She wondered if that was Steele’s idea as well.

“Aye, but ’tis a different kind of fightin’. ’Tis true there are battles here, but there be peace as well. ’Twas no peace to be found in Ireland.”

“At one time surely there was. Me mother and da used to speak of how it was, before Cromwell. How they’d gather for céilís.”

Paddy shook his head. “Those days were long gone even before I left.”

Maybe so, but it wasn’t all about the dancing, was it? “But what of your roots, Paddy?”

He tapped his chest. “They be in here, lass. Nobody can take them away.”

With two towels, Paddy grasped the pot and poured steaming water into a basin, next to which was a healthy stack of dirty dishes. While she watched his actions, her mind was on his words. He didn’t seem to care he wasn’t in Ireland any longer, that everything he’d grown with was gone. It wasn’t so easy with Grace.

Aye, her memories may well be in her heart, but she didn’t want to live with memories, she wanted to go back. There’d been a hole in her since being ripped from home and she was certain only going back would make things right again.

“A shame it is to see a pretty lass so sad.” Paddy set down the empty pot and came to her side. “Come now, let’s see if you remember this one.”

A mournful whistle seeped through his lips and soon the melody wrapped around Grace. Closing her eyes, she sang along. Again, she traveled back home, where everything was familiar, where she knew who she was and where she belonged. Her heart ached as she sang. It wasn’t long until she felt the warmth of tears on her cheeks. Her voice faded on the last word and Paddy’s soft whistle drifted off shortly after. Grace wiped her cheeks, opened her eyes.

Her gaze collided with Steele’s.

He marched toward her, lips pressed tightly together. “You’re crying.” It was as much a statement as an accusation.

“Aye, and it won’t be the last time I do, to be sure.”

Steele glared at Paddy. “I didn’t suggest she come here for you to upset her. And you.” He spun to Aidan. “Why are you sitting there doing nothing?”

“She looks fine to me.”

Paddy’s hands came up in defense. “All we did was sing and talk of home.”

Steele once settled his attention on her. “You’re feeling all right?”

Touched yet again by his concern for her, Grace put her hand on his arm. Beneath her palm she felt his muscles tense. “’Tis as Paddy says. The songs brought back memories, made me long for home.”

Steele took a step back, forcing Grace to lower her hand and break their connection. His eyes fell to her belly before coming back to her face. “You’re sure?”

“Aye.”

He rubbed a hand over his face and his shoulders lost their stiffness. “Then I’ll leave you to your visit.”

“Actually, if ’tisn’t a bother, could I go with you?” Grace asked. “I rather enjoyed the fresh air earlier and I don’t want to keep Paddy from his chores.”

Steele seemed to stiffen once more but he agreed to her request. How was it he could be concerned about her wellbeing yet uncomfortable in her presence?

“Shall I go as well?” Aidan asked.

“No, you can rest for now. You’ll be manning the helm later.”

Steele gestured for Grace to precede him.

Both Aidan and Paddy heard Steele’s quiet but heavy sigh and they smiled at each other as their captain followed Grace up the stairs.

S
teele rolled his
shoulders, stretched his neck left then right, and groaned when the knots remained firmly lodged in place. When he’d taken Grace aboard he’d intended to arrive in Santo Domingo as fast as the winds would take him. Now, thanks to Isaac, he’d be delayed by nearly two days. Two long days with Grace aboard.

He looked over to where she sat, bathed in soft moonlight on the quarterdeck. She was getting to him.

At first, on Roche’s ship, it had been her pleading and her injury, which had got his attention. She’d seemed so small and defenseless and he couldn’t leave her to die without trying to help. Since then, she’d proven stronger than he could have imagined. She’d survived Roche, staved off an attack from Isaac. She’d never complained over her wound or whined about her predicament.