A Pirate's Possession (30 page)

“I've had as much pain as I can take for one day. Go away.”

“Claire—”

“Go get my treasure, Nate. That's all I need.”

As he stood and stared over her, he began to fear exactly that.

Twenty-two

Never thought I'd see the day,” Blake chuckled.

“Oh, God, not you as well.”

“Did you think I'd let this pass? After the misery you gave me over Alicia?”

“That was Vincent. I stayed out of it.”

“Did you now? Which time? When you told me I should give her my cabin and sleep with the crew myself? When you offered to show her my ship for the sole purpose of getting me jealous enough to do it instead?”

Nate laughed. “Worked, though.”

Blake took one end of a chest and Nate grabbed the other. They followed the others around the cemetery to the path that led to the beach.

“Shall I ask Alicia to start sewing some booties for the little Nates to come?”

Nate fumbled the chest, moving his foot an instant before the chest came crashing down on it.

Blake lowered his end, placed a boot on it, and laughed until he nearly fell over.

“Hell.” Nate rubbed a hand over his face. Then again until his stomach didn't feel inside out any longer. “Hell, don't do that.”

Blake wiped his eye with the back of his hand. “Scary, isn't it, being in love?”

“Who said that's what this is?” Nate asked warily.

Blake rolled his eyes. “You went pale as dawn, almost took out your foot at the mention of babes. If it wasn't serious, you'd simply have told me to go to Hell.”

“Go to Hell.”

“Too late.” Blake grinned.

Nate sighed, then took hold of his end of the chest. “I've loved her since I was fifteen.”

It was Blake now who stumbled. “Fifteen?”

“It's a long story, and one you've never heard. You will,” he promised, feeling better about his past than he ever had, “over a cup of rum in the galley. With Vincent.”

“Your past, Nate, isn't our business, no matter how much it would thrill Vincent to know it. Besides, you never knew mine until I met Alicia.”

“Are you saying it's the women making us soft?”

Blake laughed. “Don't tell Luke that.”

Nate knew better than that. Though Luke was happily married to Samantha, his pride was renowned, and he wouldn't take to being thought of as less than the fierce pirate captain he used to be. “Wouldn't dream of it,” he answered with a chuckle.

“I thought we were loading treasure?” Luke asked when he came back for another load.

Blake and Nate looked at each other and grinned.

“We're coming,” Blake chuckled.

Aidan suddenly burst into the clearing. “A ship, Nate, coming in to the other beach.”

Nate scrubbed his face. He hadn't thought to send someone to look; he'd been too worried about Claire and Vincent. He was damn impressed the boy had had the forethought to do it for him.

“How close?” Luke asked.

“Close enough to know she's not friendly.”

Luke grinned. “Black colors?”

Aidan shook his head. A smile hovered on his lips but didn't take full shape. “Possibly.”

“Do we have time yet?”

“Enough to sail around to that beach before they drop anchor.”

Luke slapped Aidan on the back. “That's my boy.” He turned to Nate. “I'll take the other ship now,” Luke said immediately. “Joe, Aidan, and I will go, lead them away while you finish with this treasure. They've no reason to think there's more than one ship here. They'll follow us easy enough, though I'll accept your offer and take a few extra men with me.”

“Take whatever you need, Luke. I appreciate this. You're sure you can handle it if they decide to fire at you?”

“Bloody hell, Nate, I'll pretend you didn't insult me.” Luke shot a look at Aidan. The boy's face was brighter than the fire that had signaled him. They both grinned and raced off. They grabbed Joe as they passed and dragged him along.

“It's scary, isn't it, how much Luke loves this?”

“Not as scary as it is to see Aidan gnawing to be a part of it. How does Samantha feel about that?”

“Scares her to pieces, but she loves the boy and she knows she can't stop him.”

Nate watched Aidan's long strides carry him into the forest, where the jungle swallowed him.

“No, I'm sure she can't,” Nate agreed.

 

 

Things must be really dire if he's talking,” Vincent teased. “You're not dying, are you, Nate?”

Nate had decided to have their ritual of drinking rum before retiring in his cabin rather than the galley, figuring Vincent would be more comfortable lying down. Vincent was on his left side, propped pillows and rolled blankets at his back. Though he'd yet to regain all his color and bruises darkened the skin beneath his eyes, the wound didn't seem to bother him much.

“He must heal fast,” Blake said from the chair next to Nate's, “if he's able to badger you like before.”

“It's ingrained in his nature,” Nate said.

“Damn right,” Vincent answered.

Tired, Nate buried his face in his hands. It had taken hours to load the treasure, turning a long day into an even longer one. He really wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he'd come to the decision to tell his friends about his past and he would stick to it.

“I think he's scared,” Vincent whispered.

Nate peered at him through his fingers. Vincent's head was resting on his pillow, his hands clasped loosely before him. A grin curved his lips.

“Only thing I've ever been scared of is your singing.”

The grin shone in Vincent's eyes. “If you say so.”

Nate shook his head. He lowered his hands, clasping them between his spread knees.

“I murdered a man when I was four,” he began.

He told the story as he'd told Claire, only this time he added the truth about Sam Steele to the telling.

“When I saw the opportunity to be Steele, I jumped at it. I'd never owned anything before, and even though I had money, thanks in large part to you,” he added with a nod to Blake, “I wanted more. A chance to lead, to own a great ship and to be in command. I wanted, just for one bloody time, to be in control of my own destiny.”

“You didn't tell Claire about Steele, did you?” Vincent asked.

Nate scoffed. “Much as I enjoy Steele and have never regretted it, it isn't something you bandy about in polite society.”

Vincent arched a brow and Nate knew he was referring to Claire's life and the fact that she posed as a man. She wouldn't, not by anyone's standards, be considered “polite society.” A fact that didn't bother Nate in the least.

“Nate, if you love her, you have to tell her.”

He thought of her coldness earlier, how she'd cut herself off from him. How much it had hurt. What he'd felt when he'd touched her.

“I plan to tell her, though I'm not sure if she'll listen, or if the damage can be repaired.”

“Take it from someone who learned the hard way and almost lost the woman he loved because of it—tell her everything. There's no future between you otherwise and you'll always wonder, if you don't, if it would have made a difference if you had.”

Nate turned to Blake and shot him an incredulous look. “That's awfully philosophical of you.”

Blake grinned. “I've always been the smartest.”

Nate shook his head. “Maybe the most egotistical.”

“Actually,” Vincent cut in, “that would be you.”

“The hell it is.”

“No, really, it is,” Blake confirmed.

“Wait until Vincent becomes Steele, then you'll know what a big ego truly looks like.”

Blake gaped at Nate, then nearly wrenched his neck turning to Vincent.

“You might want to close your mouth. I can see what you had for breakfast,” Vincent chuckled.

Blake shut his mouth and turned to Nate. “Since when are you not going to be Steele? Since you found Claire again?”

“No. I was considering it even before then.”

“He wants to settle down and live a good, respectable life,” Vincent teased.

Blake grinned now. “I have a hard time seeing it.”

Nate grumbled at his choice of friends. Blake roared, then faced Vincent.

“And you want to take over? Why? Samantha's safe.”

“I'm not doing it for her any more than Nate did. I'm doing it for myself.”

“He'll do a damn fine job of it,” Nate said.

Blake pressed a hand to his forehead, a sure sign he was under duress. After a few long moments and deep breaths, he dropped his hand and shook his head.

“I brought you two aboard my ship as respectable sailors on a privateer's vessel and now look at you. Bloody pirates, the both of you.”

Looking at Vincent, Nate grinned.

“Sounds fine to me. How about you?”

Vincent winced as he made himself more comfortable then smiled as well.

“I've never heard of a finer idea,” he concurred.

The wind snapped the sails and howled its way down the deck. It ploughed its invisible fingers through her hair. Standing at the bow, Claire raised her face to it, let it wash over her. In the western sky, the bruise of color was breathtaking. Purple battled with pink for domination. Orange struck out, not to be outdone. Though the sun was gone for the day, it had made certain to leave its mark behind.

Too windy to risk lighting a fire in the galley for the evening meal, their supper consisted of fruit, bread, and water. She'd certainly had worse fare in the years since leaving her husband but she had no appetite. The crew members who weren't seeing to duties had spread along the gunwale, devouring the food that filled the plates resting on their laps. Claire did nothing more than shove it from the back of her plate to the front.

“You need to eat, my dear,” Vincent said.

“I'm not hungry.”

He nodded. “I wasn't either. But Blake and Nate hovered like women until I ate some.”

Her lips twitched. “I don't imagine they'd like knowing you compared them to women.”

His grin was mischievous. “No, they surely wouldn't.”

“Here, I'll take that.” He took her plate, bent, and set it on the deck. When he straightened, he wavered.

Claire reached out and grabbed his arm. Her own world spun when the sharp pain felt as though someone were slicing her chest open with a spoon.

“I'm all right.” He steadied himself by grabbing the gunwale.

Claire looked pointedly where she knew he'd been stabbed but couldn't see anything with his large vest hanging off his shoulders. “Is it bleeding? Did you need to have it closed?”

Vincent shook his head. “It seems to have stopped. Or mostly so. Don't fuss, Claire.”

She squeezed his arm before releasing it. “It's nice to have someone to fuss over,” she said.

She'd tried remaining angry with Vincent but hadn't been able to hang on to her anger where he was concerned. She hadn't given her body—and despite her better judgment, her heart—to Vincent. It wasn't he who had explaining to do. It was Nate.

“Why don't you try fussing over Nate?”

She turned back to the sea. “The time for that is passed.”

“Is that why you're both glum?”

“I'm not glum, I'm tired.” Though she hadn't done anything all day but try to find a blessed position that didn't bring agony, she was bone weary. If she was honest with herself, she'd admit she wouldn't have slept much anyhow.

“I hope you'll let him explain, Claire. He may be a big lubber, but he's a good sort.”

“I'd expect you to defend him. He's your friend.”

“‘Course he is, and like you, I don't have them in great number either. I don't like to see my friends hurting.”

“It'll pass when they heal,” she said, placing her palm over the bandaged ribs. She had to admit, while the pain could still bring tears to her eyes, the binding had helped a little.

“I'm just asking you to hear what he has to say,” he urged, suddenly looking weary.

“I can do my own talking.” Nate had come up beside them. He didn't look happy to know they'd been discussing him.

“I'll leave you, then. Good night, Claire.”

Nate placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder. “Get some rest.”

Vincent nodded and walked away.

“Is he all right?” Claire asked. “He seems fragile and weak.”