A Pirate's Possession (9 page)

“You let me talk, led me to believe you were on my side, that you cared, that you understood. And now you turn against me? You're as heartless as he is!”

“What? I most certainly am not!” he argued, his hands fisted on his hips.

But Claire was through listening. How many men had to lie to her before she learned her lesson? Well, no more.

“I don't need you, Vincent. Not you, and you can be bloody sure I don't need Nate either.”

She spun, desperate for an escape. She hadn't forgotten they were at sea, but she couldn't remain in his cabin for one more second. She raced for the ladder and had made her way up three rungs before the hatch opened and Nate's shadow fell over her.

Claire lurched to a stop. Fire burned in her gaze. Its fiery blaze was enough that Nate looked down to ensure the ladder hadn't turned to ash.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“I'd say anywhere there isn't a lying man, but then I don't believe such a place exists.”

Nate looked to Vincent. His friend held up his hand and the map within it. His expression wasn't as happy as it should have been. No doubt Claire had taken a layer off his hide.

“Get out of my way,” she snarled.

Nate stepped aside, let Claire pass. The loathing she directed at him as she met him on the ladder stung Nate. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“She's angry as a stirred-up nest of bees.”

“Well, perhaps if you hadn't promised her, back in the
orphanage,
that you were going to search for the treasure together, she wouldn't be so angry at you for going after it now.”

Nate shut the hatch and climbed down into his cabin. “A lot has changed since I made that promise.”

He shoved aside dirty dishes, grabbed a quill, and pulled out parchment from underneath the small steel trinket he used to keep it in place.

“Have you ever given a thought to cleaning?” Vincent asked, a look of disgust on his face.

“No,” Nate answered, which was the truth. He never bothered much with his cabin, not until the cook started complaining he was missing dishes.

While Vincent looked at the newest piece of the map, a partial drawing of the Spanish Main, which included the islands of Nevis, Saint Lucia, Barbados, as well as a series of words on it, Nate drew and wrote down what Claire had once said was written on other side.

He added Hispaniola, Port Royal, and a few other islands he'd been to over the years. Like Claire, he'd never committed what he knew to paper, but that didn't mean he'd forgotten it. On nights when he'd had idle time, he'd written it out, studied it, then burned it.

“At half-mast . . . with a marked waterline . . . thrice to fail . . . alone at peace?” Vincent shoved the parchment aside. “Even with the islands marked, this makes no sense!”

“It's more riddle than map, Vincent. The map had been ripped in two, with half the words on each half of the map. Now that I have all the map, I'll have the complete sentences.”

“And because it has markings of the Spanish Main, you're convinced it's here?”

“Yes.”

When Nate was finished with what he remembered, he took the other piece from Vincent's fingers and set both halves side by side. Though they didn't match in size—the newly acquired piece was much smaller—Nate figured it would be close enough to make sense of it.

He frowned as he looked from one side to the other. Then his hand slammed onto the table. Vincent jumped in his seat.

“What? What's the matter?”

Nate hung his head, although he shouldn't have been surprised.

“Claire. She never told me everything.” He met Vincent's confused gaze. “She's still holding a missing piece of the map.”

Seven

Nate decided to let it be for the night. Trying to discuss the map further when they were both already angry would be futile. Hopefully the morning would bring a calmer approach to their situation.

He relieved the man he'd awoken to take the helm then took his position behind the wheel. The lights remained unlit and the deck was dark. Nate glanced over his shoulder. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd checked. If he was being followed, there was no sign, but then if he was being followed, he didn't think James would be foolish enough to come after him with a deck full of glowing lamps. And he didn't think James could foresee which direction Nate was heading.

Come dawn, however, he'd know for certain. And if there was a ship following? His gaze rolled across the deck. A man accustomed to darkness, he didn't find it difficult to locate Claire. She hadn't crawled back under the lifeboat to rest. She was at the bow, leaning against the bowsprit. If James had managed to trail him, then Nate would do whatever necessary to protect his ship and everyone on it. And that included Claire. Regardless of old wounds, he wouldn't see harm come to her.

Nate had no idea what she thought he did on his ship, but he did know one thing. If they needed to defend themselves and she were to discover he was a pirate, and Sam Steele at that, it had best be after he had the complete map, or else he'd never have it in its entirety.

He'd always wanted it. Been obsessed with it really. Since he had his own small fortune, he couldn't explain why it mattered as much as it did. He'd built himself a house and was ready to leave piracy behind him. But not until he had the treasure.

Nate's gaze lingered on Claire. After all these years, here they were together, looking for the treasure. It wasn't in the manner they'd spoken of, but nonetheless time had brought them to it. Nate couldn't help thinking how it could have been different, how much more exciting it would have been to go after it with the bond of friendship they used to share solidly in place.

She'd been his first friend, and long before he'd fallen in love with her, he'd loved her for that gift she'd given him. He'd felt whole around her. He'd felt as though he mattered, that at last there was one person in the sorry world who cared what happened to Nate Carter. While it had wounded him to lose the woman he'd loved, it was the friendship that he'd mourned most of all. And if the smarting in his heart was any indication, he missed it still.

He watched her turn from the bow, and though he couldn't see her gaze, he felt its sharp edges. After she'd faced him a long while—enough, he figured, to damn him to Hell—she disappeared beneath the lifeboat. Nate sighed. Things could have been so different.

Damned if he was sorry they weren't.

 

 

Claire closed her eyes, wished dreams could take her away from the pain that never seemed to leave her. The pain of losing her father, then Nate, then her horrid marriage. The pain of being poor, of being forced to live the way she'd been. Of being alone.

She tugged her bag closer, wished with all her might it was someone she was holding, rather than something. She was angry with Nate, resented him for what he'd done to her, but in the deepest part of her heart, she wished he'd have looked happy to see her. That he would have admitted his mistake and taken her into his arms. That he would've said he still loved her.

Instead he'd tried to escape her, then he'd insulted her, and finally he'd taken the only thing she had left in the world, the map. She remembered the way he'd been with her in the orphanage. He'd been shy at first, then he'd seemed to find reasons to be near her. His smile had been timid, but his eyes, those vivid green eyes, had drawn her in. As they'd gotten to know each other, she'd been further captivated by his gentleness and patience with the younger children, by the small gestures he made to make her smile and feel special.

Wildflowers were picked and left where she was sure to find them as she tended her chores. Despite his own duties, he'd always been nearby to help her with a heavy load of laundry or with emptying the dirty dishwater. She'd fallen in love with him over time, then had dreamed of a life with him. Never, not even in her worst nightmares, had she ever thought it would come to this.

Dawn broke with a breathtaking spill of color, as though a barrelful of pinks and purples, soft yellows, and oranges had been upended on the horizon. With the wheel braced and nobody yet awake, Nate shifted to the stern, looked out to sea. He saw nothing but endless water and sighed deeply. Damp morning air filled his lungs. Despite knowing what was coming shortly once Claire awoke, Nate could nonetheless appreciate the moment. For now, everything was right.

Looking through the glass, he took his time, moving it slowly across the horizon. If he was being followed, he wasn't going to miss it by being sloppy.

There. His heart picked up speed. There, barely more than a speck of white, off his port side. Since he hadn't seen James's ship last night, he couldn't be sure if that was his. Hell, it was so far away he couldn't be sure of anything. Nate shoved the glass closed. For now, he'd do nothing. They were heading for Port Royal. Since they weren't heading for the treasure, and because he wasn't about to waste time slowing down on the possibility it was James, Nate kept his course.

But he'd watch. Nobody had ever caught Sam Steele unaware and unprepared, and Nate didn't mean for that to change.

Soon as his crew was up and about and the morning meal was out of the way, Nate went to the bow. She'd been there not long after he'd spotted the other ship. Other than going below to eat, it's where she'd remained. Her hat was on, covering her hair and most of her face, but Nate knew she wasn't staying at the bow to avoid contact with his men and with it the chance they'd discover she was a woman. No, that wasn't the reason for her stance at the front of his ship. It was simply as far away from him as she could get without jumping overboard.

Though his men continued to see to their duties, they looked at Claire and cast Nate questioning looks as he moved in beside her. Nate braced his forearms on the gunwale. He'd half expected her to walk away when he approached and found himself with the unusual desire to delay the reason he was there. Normally Nate preferred to talk directly and get to the matters at hand. But with the wind brushing his face, with the sea sparkling like a fistful of jewels, Nate didn't want to tarnish the moment with business. There'd be time for that.

“Was it everything you'd imagined?” he asked.

She threw him a sidelong glance, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Was what?”

“Being at sea, being on a ship. We used to talk about what it would be like. If it would give us a sense of freedom or if it would make us feel trapped.” He took a deep breath—the crisp morning air felt wonderful in his lungs. “From the first time I stepped onto a ship, I felt freedom, that I could go anywhere, do anything.”

Claire squinted against the brilliance of the water. “Surely you didn't come here to resurrect the past.”

“Surely you're not scared of discussing it,” he challenged.

Claire sighed heavily. “I don't mind the sea. It has its fine points. The endless horizon, the sunrises and sunsets are a sight to behold most days.”

“No sense of freedom?”

Her mouth pinched. “I've chased freedom for years. I've yet to find it.”

“Why n—”

She spun, met his gaze. Despite her words, there was no vulnerability in her eyes.

“Surely you've realized by now you don't have a complete map. Let's not pretend you're here for any other reason.”

He studied her closely but she gave away nothing. And that wasn't the Claire he'd known. Her face had been her best quality and it had always been full of expression. Joy and sometimes impatience at the younger children, warmth and shyness when she'd been with him. Where had that gone? Where had that Claire gone?

“Have it your way,” he said, though he refrained from adding, “for now.” He was damn curious to know what had happened to her and knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking of it until he learned the truth. Besides, he deserved at least that much. “I'll get Vincent and we'll discuss terms.”

Her chin shot up. “I have what you need.”

His grin came slow. “As do I. Shall we?”

She strode ahead, a woman with a purpose. She moved effortlessly over the deck, easily dodging any obstacle in her path. Nate's eyes slid over her backside again and ignited a spark of desire low in his belly. Despite her loose trousers, he appreciated the movement within them. But he should have been paying better attention to where he was going as he barely dodged some rigging before it strangled him.

“Mind the lines,” she warned cheekily.

Nate ignored the muffled laughter of those men close enough to see what their captain had nearly done. He called to Vincent, who was about to go down the main hatch. The three of them stepped into Nate's cabin and took their places around the table.