A Pirate's Possession (6 page)

“Where are you going?” he asked.

How did a big man move so quietly? Claire wondered. She hadn't heard so much as a step, and suddenly there he was.

“To sleep. I assume you'll allow me to do that. Or do you need to recheck my bag first in case I might have slipped another weapon into it?”

He crossed his arms. “Where had you planned on sleeping?”

“With the crew,” she said.

“No.”

“Why in blazes not?” she asked. “It's where I've slept on every other vessel I've sailed on.”

His inhale was sharp as any sword she'd ever seen. “I don't pretend to know where you've been or why, and while it's possible you could have sailed around most of the bloody Caribbean sleeping with any number of men, you won't be doing it on my ship.”

Claire gasped. “You think I whored for them? They didn't even know I was a woman!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warned while casting a worried glance around, “or this crew will know it sure enough.”

Claire stepped toe to toe with him. “Then don't question my virtue.”

Nate's gaze battled hers. “I wasn't aware you had any left.”

“Holy hell, Nate,” Vincent gasped.

Shame flooded Claire. Dammit she knew she wasn't virtuous, but it wasn't by choice, and she'd certainly never whored herself. Is that what he thought of her now when he looked at her? How could a man she'd once loved, who had once treated her with nothing but respect and kindness, think so little of her? He'd had the right to search her bag—even if she'd been angry about it—because she had given him cause not to trust her. But to think her capable of whoring?

Nate scoured his face with his hands, then dropped them woodenly to his sides.

“I'm sorry.”

“Because you didn't mean it?”

Nate's silence bruised her already battered heart.

“I see,” she said. She left before either man could see her tears.

Needing a place that would offer some level of privacy and shelter, Claire slipped beneath the lifeboat, which rocked gently above her. Rolling onto her side, Claire tucked both her bag and her shame close to her chest as warm and silent tears fell over her cheeks.

 

 

Vincent poured Nate a cup of rum and slid it across the table. It was a tradition they'd started on Blake's ship and they'd carried it from the
Blue Rose
to the
Revenge
. Every night before retiring they shared a cup of rum in the galley. Tonight was the first night since that tradition had begun that Nate didn't want to partake in it.

He simply wanted to be alone with his thoughts. But then, maybe that wouldn't be wise as he already knew the only thing he'd be able to think about was Claire.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Vincent asked. He had his cup in his hands and was swirling the liquid around within it.

“I'm afraid to ask,” Nate replied.

Vincent grinned. “It's like the time Blake found Alicia stowed away on his ship.”

“It's nothing like that.” Nate scowled, took a long drink.

“Sure it is. Remember how he was all tied up in knots, having Alicia on board? How he pretended to hate her when what he really wanted to do was—”

“I'd stop right there if I were you.”

Vincent leaned back in his chair. The seat wasn't high but his feet nevertheless dangled above the floor. “I'm not scared of you, you big lubber. Besides, you know I'm right.”

“No, you're not. Blake did hate Alicia at first. It wasn't until he got to know her that he changed his mind.”

“But you already know Claire.”

Nate took another long swallow. “She's married.” Since the words tasted bitter on his tongue, he finished the rest of his rum.

Vincent angled his head. “Then where's her husband?”

Nate sighed. Where
was
her husband? Surely he wouldn't leave her to sail around the Caribbean by herself, a fact that scared the hell out of Nate if he gave it too much thought. Besides, why did she look destitute when he knew for a fact that her husband was very wealthy?

“I don't know.”

Vincent leaned forward. “Don't you want to?”

“No.” And hell, didn't he know where this was leading? “Neither do you. Stay out of it, Vincent.”

Nate didn't like the look his first mate was giving him, the one that said he'd do it anyway. He'd done that with Alicia and Blake as well, gotten into the middle of it to push them together. In that case, it had worked, and Nate hadn't minded so much, as long as Vincent had kept him out of it.

But now that it was his life being meddled in, he didn't like it. Not one bit.

“I can't help if she talks to me. She seems to like me,” he grinned.

His friend's stature made him look innocent, but Nate knew that look in Vincent's eyes. It didn't bode well for him.

“Then I'll have to ensure you don't get any more time alone.”

“Even the captain has to sleep,” Vincent said before raising his cup to his lips.

He didn't do it in time. Nate saw Vincent's smirk before he hid it behind his mug.

Nate closed his eyes and sighed.

How long could a man stay awake, he wondered?

 

 

Clouds had melted as night wore on. Moonlight now beamed down on the deck, reflected off the polished wood. Claire had managed a few bits of sleep but she was used to sleeping lightly—a handy trait when she mostly camped by herself or was surrounded by men—and she'd been waiting for Nate to go to his cabin. He had. Hours ago.

She'd overheard him tell Vincent he'd be up later, and from their discussion she'd reasoned that he'd be trying to get some sleep before coming back to relieve Vincent of his duties. Claire had dozed in that time, coming awake to see how the clouds had shifted, where the moon hung in the sky.

The deck had been quiet then, and it was even more so now. Peeking out from under the lifeboat, she couldn't see anyone about at all. Not even Vincent. She slid out from the boat, hesitating. No movement came from the quarter deck. Leaving her bag where it lay, Claire looked around. Vincent wasn't at the bow. She crept toward the stern, unable to see any shadows or movements there either.

Her heart lurched when she heard whistling, and she froze. Logically she knew she was being ridiculous. She wasn't doing anything wrong. Yet.

It took her a moment to realize the whistling wasn't coming from the deck, but rather from the galley below. She breathed a sigh of relief, slowly unclenching her hands. Luck had never been her ally, and she hoped that the fact that Vincent was below and Nate was asleep was a sign that her fortune was changing. Not about to waste the chance if that was indeed happening, Claire stole over to the captain's hatch.

Her heart beat quickly with her intent, and her palms were suddenly damp. She wiped them on her trousers and grabbed the handle. Biting her lower lip, Claire eased open the hatch. Thankfully Nate kept a well-tended ship and the hatch swung open soundlessly.

No light came from below, and as she strained to listen, the only sound was that of Vincent's soft whistling and the whisper of wind sliding between the sails. Claire swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and said a brief prayer. Opening them again, she stepped onto the ladder.

With each step down, she paused to listen. It was only once she'd made it far enough to be able to close the hatch above her that she heard Nate's even and deep breathing. Her shoulders sagged. He was asleep. The hatch closed as silently as it had opened.

Since it had been dim above deck as well, her eyes didn't need time to accustom to the darkness. Recalling where she'd seen everything earlier, Claire crept toward the berth. She'd hoped she'd step on some clothing as it would mean she could simply search through his clothes for the map, but her feet hit nothing but smooth wood.

She dared breathe only in short, shallow breaths. Soon she was at the bedside, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears. It seemed as though he'd fallen asleep without meaning to, spread out over the blankets. He hadn't even taken off his jacket.

Claire wiped her quaking hands onto her pants, reminded herself to remain steady. She could do this. She
had
to do this.

He was sleeping on his back and his large hands were at his sides. His head was turned slightly away from her. The part of her that remembered what they'd meant to each other, or rather what she'd believed they'd meant to each other, wanted to linger. It wanted to trace the arch of his brows and feel the roughness of his beard. It wanted to once again be taken in his arms and to be cherished.

For God's sake, stop it
, she scolded herself.
The map, remember the map. Remember the lies, the hurt
.

To that end, she deliberately kept her gaze off his face. Reaching forward, she slid her hand into the pocket of his jacket. Her fingers brushed against the paper and Claire's heart leapt to her throat. She had it!

She slowly pulled her hand away. When Nate didn't move, Claire exhaled a trembling breath.

She looked at him once more, had a moment when she wished things could have been different. But knowing they weren't, could never be, she backed away from the berth, tucked the folded map into her undershirt, and turned for the ladder.

She got as far as the base of it before she was grabbed from behind.

The scream ripped from her throat.

“Goddammit, Claire,” he swore as she thrashed to break free.

Her arms flailed wildly, desperate to connect with some part of him that would make him release her. Her elbow struck his chest. Her foot came down hard on his. Growling, he spun her around. Her right knee came racing up.

“No, you don't,” he said as he deftly wrapped a large hand around the back of her knee and held it there, a mere breath away from where she'd intended to strike him. His other hand grabbed her left wrist and held it shackled down at her hip.

Luckily Claire was right-handed. Smiling sweetly, she aimed for his jaw.

Five

Nate dropped her leg and caught her fist. He angled his hips when her knee tried again.

“Dammit, Claire!”

With his right hand holding her left, he quickly grabbed her leg again, but this time he raised her clear off the ground. She had no choice but to grab on to him for balance. Moving to the berth, he tossed her onto it. Before she could scramble away, he'd covered her with his body. She was trapped. But it didn't stop her from trying.

“Get off me!” she raged, pushing and bucking. She nearly managed to crack her head against his, but he pulled back in time.

“That's enough!” his voice rumbled from deep in his chest, frustration coating every word.

He clasped each one of her wrists and shoved her arms over her head, effectively trapping it within the frame of her limbs. His lower body pressed hers into the mattress. His eyes latched on to hers.

Claire's breath heaved, her heart raced within her chest. Sweat dampened her back. Nate's breathing was rapid and the heat of it moistened the exposed skin at her throat, sending a wave of fire skimming over her skin. Suddenly she became aware of just how intimately they were touching. Her breasts grazed his chest, and with each breath she took, the sensations doubled. Despite herself, her nipples went rigid and her blood began to pound between her legs. She shifted uncomfortably, a mistake she realized too late when it placed his hardness directly at the place she throbbed.

Her eyes flew to his. Reality slapped her in the face. He wanted her, at least her body. And dammit, her own was betraying her. How dare it! After everything she'd had to endure the last eight years, her body was foolish enough to desire him? And how dare he want her after all this time! He'd had his chance.

Claire set her teeth, arched her back, and began thrashing. “Get off of me!” she yelled. He didn't seem to require any effort to hold her down, which only infuriated her more. She turned her head as best she could, opened her mouth, and nearly succeeded in biting him.

“Would you settle down!”

“You'll never get what you want from me, Nate. Never.”

He angled his head. “And what would that be?”

She felt the burn in her cheeks and wisely kept her mouth shut. She wouldn't bring lust further into this and neither would she remind him she had the map. Not that he'd forgotten, she was certain, but as it was, if he wanted to get it ...

She swallowed hard. The thought of his hands on her made her belly flutter. Damn him.

“If I let you go, will you sit calmly or will you come after me again?”

She glared at him. She'd love nothing better than to get in at least one solid shot. As though he read her mind, his eyes hardened.

“I'll tie you up if I have to,” he threatened.

Claire had learned to fight since the orphanage but she'd also learned to choose her battles. Swallowing her pride hurt, but she did it.

“I won't fight you,” she agreed.

He angled his head again as he studied her. He must have realized she meant it because he released her arms. When she made no move to hit him, he slowly eased away. He moved to the table, lit the candles. Soft light bathed the room. Claire scrambled off the bed but kept her distance, as much as the cabin allowed. Nate leaned against a beam near the base of the ladder. If she hadn't already figured she was trapped, she would have known then.

Though she could feel her knife against her leg, she didn't consider using it. Where would she go? They were too far away from land for her to swim to shore and she couldn't possibly overpower his whole crew. Still, it didn't mean she planned on making it easier for Nate. She crossed her arms, waited.