Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (26 page)

“No, speed it up.”

*

When Cale stepped
foot on land, it was always with a sense of resignation and an itch to get it over with as soon as possible. It was far worse when his destination was Santo Domingo.

Here he felt the burden of ghosts.

Not only was Vincent buried here, though he’d yet to go to his grave, but whenever he walked into Nate and Claire’s home, a house filled with love and children, it was hard to pretend he hadn’t lost it all. With the passing of years, the pain had lessened, become more of a dull ache than a raw wound.

Today, however, would be different.

Because while losing Catherine and Caden was in his past, losing Grace and a chance to once again have what Nate and Claire had, was fresh. Too fresh.

He’d opened himself to Grace and knew he would never do so again. Going forward, he’d be alone. He looked about his cabin with its berth, shelves, and table and tried to imagine himself in five years time, ten. He couldn’t see it. All he saw was Grace.

“Perfect.” He sighed and tipped his head back.

In the beginning, the sea had been a refuge. It had taken him from his home in Nevis and the painful memories of what he’d lost there. On the ship, he could avoid children, didn’t have to face looking at happy families day in and day out. But now he didn’t even have that. Because the sea was where he’d met Grace. They’d made love on his berth. They’d made love on the quarterdeck. He couldn’t stay here, not with her memory everywhere.

But where in blazes was he to go?

The hatch opened. Cale looked over as the faint light of dusk and the smell of smoke spilled in. He recognized Aidan’s worn boot on the rung a moment before his voice confirmed Cale’s dread. “We’re here, Captain. Longboat has been lowered. You’re ready to go ashore.”

Squawk.
“Going ashore. Going ashore.”

Cale had avoided Grace for the last day and a half by taking on his tasks and any others he could manage. When she wanted on the quarterdeck he made sure he found work elsewhere. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t even tried. He’d given her the cabin until she’d awakened this morning and come above deck. Then, under the guise of needing sleep, he’d come below.

But there was no hiding any longer. They were here. And Grace was leaving. He was once again going to lose what mattered to him. Only this time, he’d be there to witness the loss.

He pried his fingers away from the chair.
I just have to get through today
. Though how the hell he was going to manage when his chest felt as though it were being pried open he couldn’t say.

“Captain? You ready?”

No, he wasn’t. Damnation, he’d known it was coming and he’d convinced himself he was fine, that if she didn’t want him, well, he could live without her as well.

He’d lied.

“A
re you sure
this is the way?” Grace asked.

“I’ve been here before, Grace.”

“In the dark?”

“Many times.” Every time.

He lifted some palm fronds that spanned the trail and waited until she’d passed beneath them before he let them fall. The footpath wasn’t a wide one but most of the vegetation crowding its corridor could easily be stepped over, walked through, or lifted aside. The route wasn’t well traveled, which made it the ideal path. Cale raised the lantern, illuminating the barely-noticeable walkway. The lizards, frogs, and other night creatures chirped on, undisturbed by their presence.

Since becoming Steele, he’d tramped through this jungle more times than he cared to count. As long as he was Steele, he couldn’t exactly drop anchor among the trading vessels and pretend he was a peer. Luckily, Nate had devised this route and it had worked for him as well when he’d been Steele. And, even luckier, the path really wasn’t long and at the end of it there’d be two horses and a carriage waiting.

“And the others will be able to follow it?” she asked doubtfully.

“They would, as they’ve made the journey many times as well, but as it happens I’ll be with them. Once I’ve made introductions, I’ll leave you in Claire’s capable hands. Nate will return with me to help unload. By sunrise we’ll be done.”

“’Tis quite the procedure you’ve devised.”

“Yes.”

He heard her sigh a moment before her hand curled around his arm. “Cale.”

Cursing silently, he stopped, waited. She didn’t let go. Dammit, he should have expected it wouldn’t be as easy as dropping her with Claire and Nate. As though there was anything easy about that. Resigned, he turned, ensuring he kept the lantern low as not to blind her.

“You saved me life in more than ways than one. I’ve grown up in large part to you and, despite the last two days, I’ve been happier on your ship than I have since leaving Ireland. ’Twould mean a lot to me if we could part as friends.”

Friends. Damnation, she wasn’t making this easy and it would be much easier to part angry, to be able to hold onto the resentment rather than grieve the loss. If they parted mad, he could fool himself into thinking they never would have been happy together. He could convince himself great lovemaking was just that, and it didn’t mean he’d given her his heart. But leaving as friends? How could he walk away from her if they weren’t mad at each other? How could he walk away if she looked at him the way she was looking at him now? With her heart filling her eyes.

Hell, why couldn’t she have left things as they’d been? But as he wouldn’t be around to take care of her, to support her and her child, if this was all she asked of him, was it really so much? Besides, he didn’t want her fretting over how things were left between them. It wouldn’t do for her to worry so.

He wasn’t sure he could call what was between them friendship, but neither would he admit to his true desire, not when she’d made hers clear enough. He could nonetheless speak another truth. With her hand still on his arm, he reached forward, touched her cheek. A mistake, he realized too late, as the satiny skin beneath his palm further reminded him what he was about to lose.

“I would be lying, Grace, if I said I won’t miss you.” Her trembling lips matched the trembling in his chest. Before he embarrassed himself, he lowered his hand. “We should go. I still have a ship to unload.”

*

“We’re not stealing,
are we?” she asked, following Cale past the unconcerned horses into the barn. She didn’t mind the dark while safely tucked onto the ship, but not on land, and especially not on land she wasn’t familiar with.

“This is all Nate’s. He keeps it here for us. Normally the wagon is only used for transferring the bounty as it’s not a long walk to Nate’s home, but I thought this would be more comfortable for you than walking.”

“But how can Nate know when you’ll return?”

“He doesn’t.”

“And the horses are left here all the time?”

His large hands paused in their work and he looked at her. “He has a groom and a stable hand. The horses are tended and fed so you needn’t be worried for them. Nate doesn’t neglect what’s his.”

Neither do you
. Her heart swelled as she looked at him. His face, chiseled from weather and the pain of his past, faded from light to shadow as he moved around securing the horses to the wagon. His every movement was efficient and soon they were on their way.

They were sitting so close every bump in the road had his thigh brushing against hers. The smell of him teased her with memories of how she’d kissed his skin, how it had felt against hers. She clutched at her skirt to keep from reaching for him. She bit her tongue to keep from telling him she’d changed her mind, she’d take him any way she could have him so long as they didn’t have to say goodbye.

Too soon, he pulled back on the reins. “We’re here.”

Her shoulders fell. “Oh.” And then she looked over, saw the large two-story house, the welcoming glow pouring from the numerous ground-level windows and breathed. “Oh.”

Dark shadows of trees surrounded the home, but Grace barely gave them notice. Her eyes were all on the house. It had a wide porch with three steps leading to the front door. On either side of those, large flower-filled urns stood proud and majestic. The stems within bowed under the heavy weight of the blooms, which perfumed the night air.

Thinking about the striking home, and wondering what kind of people Nate and Claire were to live in a house as grand as this while they maintained orphanages, Grace went woodenly through the motions of accepting Cale’s help down. The house was even more impressive up close. It was made of brick and the door was a work of art, with its intricate carvings she couldn’t help but trace with her fingers.

“’Tis a lovely house.” Then, remembering how she was dressed—in a worn and ragged dress with Cale’s shirt over top—she lowered her hand and took a step back.

“What is it?”

“I look like something left behind after the tide goes out.”

He’d extinguished the lantern and left it with the wagon. Yet the light seeping through the windows was enough to see his gaze rake her from head to toe before settling onto her face. “I’ve seen what the tide leaves behind and you don’t look a thing like it.” Cale turned and rapped soundly on the door.

Grace fiddled with the strings of the shirt, wiped her damp hands down her gown, then lifted them to smooth over the braid she’d thankfully thought to redo before climbing into the longboat. Still, she wished she’d have had hairpins to do something more fashionable with her tresses.

The house was solidly built and only the faintest of sounds trickled through the door and windows while they stood on the porch. But when the door swung open, they were assaulted with them.

Shrieks blasted through the doorway and Grace caught a glimpse of a naked tot running along the upstairs corridor, chased by red-haired woman carrying a towel. The boy squealed when an older woman, likely a nursery maid, came at him from the other direction, a towel in her hands as well. Then, from somewhere behind the tall, broad-shouldered man filling the doorway, came the shouts of two more children arguing. Judging by the rising voices and the thumps and bumps, Grace figured the argument was taking a physical turn.

The big man angled his head toward the rooms behind him and his voice drowned that of his children’s. “If I have to go in there, Vincent and Adam, you
will
be sorry.” Then he turned back to Cale and a grin spread across his face. “Well, look what the wind blew in.” He looked to Grace. His smile widened and his brows rose. “Hello?”

“Nate, this is Grace. Grace, Nate.”

“A pleasure,” Nate said and stepped aside. “Please, come in. I apologize in advance for the noise. The boys always seem to wind up just as we try to wind them down.” He closed the front door behind them then led them into the parlor. Cale and Grace took their place on one of the brocade sofas; Nate sat opposite them on a matching one.

While the furniture was polished and the wooden floors gleamed in the glow of the wall sconces, Grace couldn’t help but notice the house wasn’t nearly as stately and pristine on the inside as it had been upon first glance outside.

Two of the framed paintings hanging on the papered wall were crooked, as though they’d been knocked askew in a scuffle much like the one coming from beyond the room. There weren’t any fancy adornments or trinkets on the side tables or mantle—likely also due to said scuffles—but she did catch a glimpse of a wooden sword lying partially beneath the sofa on which Nate sat. It was a home, not simply a house and, despite her battered attire and Nate’s openly curious green eyes, Grace relaxed into her seat.

The same couldn’t be said for Cale. He sat forward, elbows braced on his knees. His booted foot tapped the floor. Cale’s discomfort seemed to amuse Nate. His lips twitched as he leaned back, stretched out his long legs and splayed his arms along the back of the sofa. Then his eyes—which reminded her of the green of Ireland—focused on her.

“Steele’s never had a woman on his crew before.”

“She’s not part of my crew. She was on the ship we looted and she was wounded.”

Nate’s brows creased then leveled. The twitch turned to a grin. “She looks fit to me.”

“It was a stab wound. It could have been worse,” Cale said.