Nathaniel brushed his teeth and drew on his shirt while Alexandra watched.
“Do you have something to say, or have you taken new interest in my attire?” He turned his back to her as he strapped on his pistol and put his knife in his boot, a ritual he performed every day.
“Trenton told me who Jake is,” she said, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice. “Surely you know the duke will hate you more after this. He’ll probably kill you for it.”
“I think you need to decide which role you mean to play”—he turned and raised a mocking brow—”my sister Anne or an unconcerned needlewoman from Manchester. Advisor and confidante are not among your options.”
Alexandra winced beneath the sting of his words. She hadn’t seen Nathaniel for more than a brief moment over the past two days since he’d kissed her. It seemed that he was as eager as she to keep plenty of distance between them. “I didn’t ask to be here,” she retorted. “Besides, someone needs to talk some sense into you. Not all of life’s problems can be handled with a knife or a gun.”
“Now you’re a philosopher?”
“I’ve done my share of living by my wits.”
“Then perhaps you know when to keep your opinions to yourself.”
Alexandra swallowed hard, once again at the receiving end of Nathaniel’s angry glare. Unwilling to let him have the last word, she lifted her chin. “Now that I know you don’t have the good sense to appreciate my wisdom, I will.”
“Next time I’m lost in indecision, I’ll remember to ask for your help.”
“I won’t be around. You promised to take me home, remember?”
Nathaniel gave her a slight bow. “Indeed. And it won’t be long now. Soon you’ll be back in your safe existence, just as if nothing had ever changed.”
With that he stalked from the room, leaving Alexandra to wonder why she cared if the duke killed him or not. She should have let the sniper have a clean shot and saved them all a great deal of trouble.
Judging from his behavior, he felt worse about his half brother’s hand than she did, but he couldn’t open up and say so. Nothing about Nathaniel was simple. She hated his autocratic manner, his cynicism, his sharp temper, and… Alexandra thought for a moment. What else did she hate about the pirate captain? She couldn’t put her finger on everything just then, but when her temper began to cool, she knew. She hated the risks he took, the enemies he made, the hurt he had suffered as a child. Worse than anything, she hated the fact that soon she might never see him again.
* * *
Nathaniel cringed as his eye caught sight of the doctor’s instruments: two sharp knives for slicing through skin, muscle, and tendons, a bone saw, a piece of rope to clamp between Clifton’s teeth, and a bucket of boiling pitch to sear the flesh and stop the bleeding.
For all Nanchu’s advancement in the field of medicine, cutting off a limb was still cutting off a limb. He did it the same way any other doctor would—with a little bit of rum and a saw, and in less than a minute. Much longer, and the patient would bleed to death, if the shock and pain didn’t kill him first.
“Are you sure we have to do this?” Nathaniel asked as Tiny, Trenton, Garth, and John used ropes to strap the frantic Clifton to the table.
Nanchu didn’t answer. He removed the bandage from the marquess’s wrist and let the putrid smell and grayish-green flesh speak for themselves.
“No! Don’t! Please!” Lord Clifton thrashed wildly as they tried to tie him down. Managing to free a leg, he kicked John and sent him sprawling, but Nathaniel stepped in.
“You did this,” the marquess snarled, his eyes glassy. “ You want me to be no more whole than you are.”
Nathaniel stared down at his half brother while Nanchu applied a tourniquet just below Clifton’s elbow. He thought he’d feel hate, maybe even the morbid sense of satisfaction that his half brother accused him of feeling, but he was wholly unprepared for the poignant remorse that flooded his heart. The boy thought he had done this on purpose? Regardless of who Lord Clifton was, at that moment he was simply a man about to lose his hand, and after struggling to live a normal life with such a handicap, Nathaniel would have given anything to save it.
“Nanchu, is there any chance? Any chance at all?” he asked. The marquess’s body quivered as everyone looked hopefully at the Chinese doctor.
“So sorry. Too late.” The ropes were secure, the tourniquet in place. Waving them all back, he asked Tiny to hold Clifton’s arm still, but Nathaniel volunteered for the odious task himself.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “The four of you can go.”
Tiny, Garth, and John glanced at each other in obvious relief, then beat a quick retreat.
“Let me do that, Nathaniel,” Trenton said, staying on.
Nathaniel shook his head, unable to explain why he had to see the amputation through. For him, escape at that moment seemed a cowardly thing. Holding tightly to the marquess’s arm, he forced his mind away from what was taking place and pictured Alexandra the way she had looked when he had kissed her, imagined her caressing him softly, saw her smile invitingly…
Clifton let out a gut-wrenching scream and the vision instantly dissipated. The doctor had made his first cut several inches above the original wound. Blood splattered everywhere as he continued to slice through the muscles and tendons. Then he began to saw through the bone.
Nathaniel turned his face away, feeling sick. His half brother’s arm twisted back and forth with the friction, then there was a soft thud as the cankerous hand fell to the floor.
Silence. The marquess had fainted, but no such oblivion eased Nathaniel’s pain. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear Clifton’s screams echoing in his head.
“Are you all right?” Trenton watched Nathaniel with a look of concern.
“I’m fine. I think Nanchu can finish now. Let’s get out of here.”
The putrid smell of burning flesh combined with hot tar followed them all the way to the galley.
“Charlie, give me that bottle of Blue Ruin I had you tuck away,” Nathaniel said.
Charlie raised his tufted eyebrows. “That bad, eh?”
“That bad,” Trenton breathed, but it was Nathaniel who grabbed the bottle from the cook’s hand when Charlie retrieved it, and together they headed to Trenton’s cabin.
* * *
Alexandra knew something was wrong the moment Nathaniel opened the door. Normally quiet and as surefooted as a cat’s, his step was loud and uneven, and he groaned as he clipped the wall with his shoulder.
She tried not to smile at his clumsiness. He’d obviously had too much to drink. The headache he’d own in the morning would be a just revenge.
“Bloody hell!”
Hearing the mumbled curse, Alexandra wondered what other mishap Nathaniel had managed. It was too dark to see anything except the soft glow of his teeth and the whites of his eyes, but she thought he’d hit his shin on the chair as he stumbled to the window.
He was close enough for her to smell the alcohol on him, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She hated that smell. She associated it with everything she had suffered at her stepfather’s hands. But she’d seen little evidence that Nathaniel drank much. His men downed rum like water—the slimy ship water tasted so bad that half the time she didn’t blame them—but rarely had she smelled an excess of alcohol on Nathaniel.
So he has one redeeming feature, she thought grudgingly.
Evidently he still had a bottle in his hand. Alexandra heard the soft pop as he tipped it up and took a long drink. Then he sank down on the floor in the small circle of light made by the moon and gazed up through the porthole.
What’s he thinking?
Alexandra wondered, noticing how much softer the hard planes of his face looked in the mellow light. His hair, loose from its tie, fell tousled about his shoulders; his clothes were uncharacteristically disheveled. He looked like a forlorn lad sitting there, like the lonely little boy he must once have been.
Alexandra wrestled with herself, trying to remain indifferent. After a few moments, she rose and padded over to him.
He didn’t so much as turn at the muted sound of her movements. He just continued to stare out the window at the stars.
“Let’s get you to bed.” She tugged gently on his arm, and he stood, letting her pull the tails of his shirt from his trousers and undo its buttons. As she slipped the garment over his shoulders, she tried not to notice how her hands burned when they brushed his skin.
“That’s good,” she said. “Now sit.”
“You don’t know what good is.” He remained standing, just inches away from her, and she could feel his eyes cutting through the darkness. “But I could teach you.”
His gentle invitation made Alexandra giddy. How many nights had she watched him disrobe for bed, heard the sounds he made as he settled himself, and wished he’d come to her? But did she want him like this? He was only searching for a way to stop the pain. He wanted to lose himself in her arms for the same reason he had tried to drown himself in the bottle.
“You’re not up to teaching anyone anything tonight,” she chided.
She saw the glint of his teeth as his mouth stretched into a lascivious grin. “Try me,” he said, pulling her hand to the physical proof.
Alexandra let her fingers linger as the most delicious sensation assailed her. She could spend this one night with him and hold the memory of it forever, except that her terms demanded more than one brief encounter. She couldn’t give her body without giving her heart. Pulling away, she pressed him back, and he sank onto the bed.
She knelt between his legs to take off his boots. He was in shadow now; she could no longer see the silhouette of his face, but she could feel his gaze on the top of her head. She nearly changed her mind about joining him—until one moment’s imagination showed her what it would be like tomorrow, knowing she could never have him for good. Willy had shown her pain enough; she wasn’t going to ask for more, especially of such an exquisite type.
Rising, Alexandra tried to press Nathaniel back so she could cover him with blankets, but he resisted her attempt. He sat rigid for a moment, then his arm went slowly around her waist. Pulling her to him, he laid his head on her breast.
Alexandra’s hands lifted instinctively to caress him as she would a hurt child. Running her fingers through his hair, she used her nails to gently scratch his scalp until his breathing slowed, and he relaxed against her, falling asleep.
Still weak from her injury, Alexandra couldn’t hold him long. Smiling, she kissed the top of his head, then laid him back, and this time he relaxed into the covers.
Marveling at the many facets of the pirate captain, Alexandra climbed into his hammock, her bare legs chilly beneath his long shirt. He could have the bed for the night, she decided. But her arms felt cold and empty without him, and it was a long time before she slept.
* * *
Alexandra woke to find the sun streaming in at the porthole and Nathaniel staring at her from the bed.
“Tell me about your stepfather,” he said softly.
Alexandra blinked in surprise. To convince Nathaniel of her true identity when he thought she was Lady Anne, she had told the pirate captain as much as she wanted him to know about Willy. It wasn’t a subject she enjoyed talking about. “Why do you ask?”
“I know you wanted to leave him badly enough to steal a dress and flee. There had to be a reason.”
Alexandra lowered her gaze to the scarred, wooden floor, avoiding the intensity in Nathaniel’s eyes. She wished she could just as easily avoid a recounting of the miserable years with Willy. “Willy turned to gin when my mother died nearly five years ago, and drinking makes him… violent.”
Nathaniel flinched, but whether in response to her words or what had to be a terrible headache after last night, Alexandra didn’t know. “He hurt you?”
She nodded.
“Often?”
“Whenever he got drunk, which was often enough. Only, I learned to avoid him when he was like that… most of the time.” She forced a smile to her lips to cover the ache in her heart. Willy was the only father she had ever known. His betrayal was not an easy thing to understand or accept. Neither was the fact that his actions had forced her to break the promise she had given her mother that she would look after him.
Shoving the pillows behind his back, Nathaniel sat up. He still wore the pants she’d left on him the night before, but as he moved, the blankets slid down to his waist, revealing his powerful torso.
Alexandra hoped her face did not show the longing she felt to touch him. Now that he had broached the subject of her background, she found she wanted to talk about it after all. She needed someone to hold her and to tell her that she wasn’t to blame for Willy’s hatred. That she hadn’t earned his derision. That under the circumstances, she couldn’t be expected to make good on her promise to stay and care for him.
As if reading her mind, Nathaniel motioned her to him.
Alexandra paused only a moment before moving closer, her need for solace overriding her usual wariness.
He held back the covers, welcoming her into the warmth of the bed and sharing the heat of his body by wrapping his arm around her and holding her close. “What now, sweet Alexandra?” he murmured against the hair at her temple.
She breathed in the scent that was uniquely his own. “Now I find work in London,” she said, finding his embrace and the slight motion as he rocked her comforting in a very basic way. She’d had no one to ease her fears or calm her troubled thoughts for so long. She felt like a starving man sitting down to a sumptuous feast, though she thought it strange that it would be the insolent pirate captain who knew what she needed—and just how much of it to give.
“Why London?” he asked.
“Why not?” She pressed her cheek to his chest and tried to absorb every texture that was Nathaniel Kent. Never had she imagined a man so virile and appealing to the senses.
“Because you said your aunt is on her way to India. Do you know anyone else there?”
She shook her head, wishing he wouldn’t talk, wanting him to simply hold her forever.