In the Arms of a Pirate (A Sam Steele Romance Book 2) (21 page)

Aidan glared at the lot of them, aware many glared back.

“You’ve a long way to go before you’re worthy. Now clean up this mess and get back to work and that better be the last time I hear any one of you malign Sarah.”

If glares were daggers his back would be a bleeding mess.

“Sorry, Cap’n,” Chunk apologized when Aidan made it back to the quarterdeck. “As they were no longer trying to kill each other, I saw no harm in letting them cackle for a few minutes.”

“Disrespect is always dangerous, Chunk. It starts off innocently enough but spreads like an infection.”

Chunk crossed his meaty arms over his chest. “What are you saying?”

Aidan looked down to the main deck. The men were cleaning as they’d been asked but he saw some heads together, knew there were whispers. Just as he knew those words weren’t in his favor.

“Just keep a weather eye open, Chunk.”

Because he sure as hell planned to.

A
idan tucked the
dirk into his boot, reached for the dagger amid the armaments he’d placed on the table.

“I thought you weren’t going to confront my father.” Fear and worry twined through her words.

Roche, the heathen, didn’t deserve her concern.

“I’m not,” Aidan confirmed before securing the dagger in his other boot. Then, looking over the array of steel on the table picked up a blunderbuss and shoved it into the black sash at his waist.

“Then why are you bringing all these weapons?”

“Going unarmed into Tortuga is likely to get you killed.” Besides, not only had he been raised by Luke, who never went anywhere without an arsenal of weapons, but he hadn’t had enough on him when Roche had attacked Nate’s. It wasn’t an error he intended to repeat.

“But couldn’t having too many be seen as an invitation to fight?”

“Clearly, you’ve never been to Tortuga.” He tightened his belt, tugged to ensure the scabbard held and with a whisper of blade against leather, slid in his favorite cutlass. On his opposite hip he added a few grenadoes to his pouch. After tucking in his preferred pistol, his first gift from Luke, Aidan deemed himself ready.

Testing, he walked a small circle, crouched then stood. Blimey, why would Luke willingly carry all this weight around? But then Luke didn’t usually carry grenadoes.

“Take me with you.”

Aidan went still. “And have you warn your father? I think not.”

Squawk.
“Think not. Think not.”

Finally, Carracks was on his side.

“I give you my word I won’t.”

He couldn’t help choking. “Really? You’ve been begging for the chance to speak with your father since the beginning and now you expect me to believe you no longer want to? That if you saw him, you wouldn’t run to him? Wouldn’t warn him and try to protect him?”

“I wouldn’t,” she repeated.

She tried. He’d give her credit for trying. But given her hands were wringing each other, her foot was tapping, and her eyes couldn’t stop blinking, he knew she was lying.

“Sorry, your highness. You’re staying here.”

Her foot stopped. Hurt clouded her eyes.

Aidan thought he did a remarkable job of pretending it didn’t affect him.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said.

Because he had the uneasy feeling she did, and because he had no idea what else to do with his hands, Aidan crossed his arms over his chest. No easy feat with the amount of weapons hanging off him.

“Do you, now?”

She nodded. “You call me ‘your highness’ or ‘princess’ when the mood suits you, which is usually when we are speaking of my father.”

Sarah came to her feet and stepped around the table. The cabin seemed to shrink with each step she took toward him. He was glad he hadn’t yet donned his coat as the temperature suddenly warmed in the small room.

“You do it purposefully,” she continued when he remained silent. “To remind yourself who I am.”

“I never forget who you are.”

She’d stopped her excessive blinking and solidly met his gaze.

Apparently, she wasn’t uncomfortable any more. Aidan ran a hand around his neck. He wished he could say the same.

“I think you do,” she said. “Or at the least there are times when you are able to separate me from my father.” She moved closer, her eyes drawing him in. “When you call me Sarah, when you look at me as you are right at this moment, I know it isn’t my father you’re thinking of.”

Aidan drew in a troubled breath; held it, let it out. No, he certainly wasn’t thinking of Roche but neither could he tell her what he was thinking. Roche’s daughter or not, in the ways of the flesh she was innocent and he’d shock her with the carnal images burning through his mind.

Instead, he reached for the coat draped over the back of a chair and dug into one of the pockets.

“Perhaps not,” he finally admitted as he secured the black bandana over his head. “But you’re wrong about why I call you princess and your highness. It isn’t to remind me who you are. It’s to remind myself of my goal. The only one I can let matter.”

“To kill my father.”

“Aye.”

Hungrily, he watched her throat work, yearned to dip his head and taste the long column of it. When he dragged his eyes to hers he swore he saw the same hunger reflected there.

“We’ll see,” he whispered, “if you still look at me the way you are now once this is over. Because I doubt you will.”

She stepped back. “I don’t think my feelings will be as easy to dispense of as you wish them to be.”

Neither, he feared, would his.

*

On deck, with
the wind whispering in his ear, Aidan shrugged into his coat. He tucked the sides of the garment behind the scabbards to allow fast access to his swords, tugged the wide cuffs down to his wrists. The waning moon wasn’t as bright as it had been at Nate’s and for that he was thankful. He preferred the cover of darkness.

Pale candlelight winked through the slats of the cabin’s hatch and brushed the toes of his black boots. He stared down, remembering, despite himself, Sarah’s wounded look when he’d told her she was to stay below in his absence, that Jacques would be ensuring her safety by guaranteeing she never left his cabin. She hadn’t screamed or wailed as she’d done when he’d locked her in the cellar at her home, but her silence was more powerful than any words. It cut deeper.

Hell, he didn’t want to care. He didn’t want the doubt that had crept over him when she’d asked how far Jacques would go to protect her. He may not trust all his men, but he was sure of Jacques, Lucky, and Chunk and knew they’d go as far as they needed to. Why now was he wondering if that would be enough?

Dammit, he was Steele now. He had priorities, a goal. Distractions such as these could be deadly.

When had that stopped Sam, Nate, or Cale?

Cursing, Aidan looked away. He was attracted to Sarah he’d admit. But Sam, Nate, and Cale had fallen in love. And once they had, they’d given up Steele. Blimey, he’d barely taken over as the infamous captain; he sure as blazes wasn’t going to give it up right away. Not after years of coveting the role. He’d trust his men to do their duty and he’d go into Tortuga to do his own.

“Ready to go ashore, Cap’n?”

“More than. And I’ll be trusting you to do what needs to be done here.”

“It’ll be as you planned,” Chunk said and went through it one more time.

His first mate had forgotten nothing but something tickled the back of Aidan’s brain. He peered into the darkness consuming the deck, the lamps had been doused and the crew was nothing but grey shadows in the moonlight. It was silent but for the creak of the ship and the splash of the waves against the hull. The mainsail had been lowered and the mast was a skeletal finger in the middle of the deck. The entire scene was eerie and foreboding. He shuddered as what felt like a dozen spiders skittered up his spine.

There was no reason for this feeling. Jacques would ensure Sarah was safe; Chunk and Lucky would take care of the ship and crew. It made no sense to feel this unease and yet it dogged him from the main hatch, under the boom to the gunwale and the rope ladder, which would lower him into the awaiting longboat. Lucky was at the gunwale waiting.

“It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you killed the bastard tonight.” Lucky grinned. “Save us some time.”

“If I can without bringing the whole of Tortuga after us, you can be sure I will.”

“We’ll be waitin’ for you either way,” Lucky said.

Aidan nodded, grabbed the rope and swung a leg over the gunwale. The moment he did he felt sick, as though something heavy had fallen into the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right. He’d felt it since leaving Sarah and Jacques in his cabin and the feeling hadn’t lessened. If anything, it kept getting stronger. He couldn’t point to one reason or thing that was wrong; he only sensed something was.

It was too dim to see faces but Aidan knew his men were surprised when he put his foot back on deck, strode away from the ladder toward his cabin. It was almost as though there was a shift in the air.

Chunk came down from the quarterdeck. “Something wrong, Cap’n?” he asked.

“Won’t be for long,” Aidan answered as he opened the hatch. He hurried down the ladder into his cabin, his scabbard slapping his thigh as he went.

Jacques looked up from where he sat at the table. Sarah was in the corner of the berth, her back against the wall and her arms clasped tightly around her folded legs. The sheen in her eyes was unmistakable. Shame sat as heavy as the unease he’d felt all day. He hadn’t realized how truly frightened she was.

But neither did he have time to coddle her.

Aidan moved below the ladder where her bag rested next to his trunk.

The ropes beneath the mattress creaked as she moved. “Did you forget something?”

“I’ve decided you’re coming with me after all, but I can’t have you in Tortuga dressed like that.” He tossed her the bag. “Put your trousers and shirt back on.”

“She’s going with you?” Jacques asked, coming to his feet. “I thought—”

“Change of plans. Let’s give Miss Santiago some privacy to change.” He looked at her, didn’t miss the fact that her eyes were no longer sad. They were bright with excitement.

Hell.

He felt as though either way, whether he took her along or not, his plan was in jeopardy. But he couldn’t control everything and at the moment he felt taking Sarah along was the smartest thing.

He bloody hoped he wasn’t going to regret it.

*

After steering the
longboat to the edge of the main harbor, Aidan pulled it ashore, dragged it over a low wall of shrubs into a copse of candlewood trees. Knowing it was as secure as he could keep it, he and Sarah made their way onto the sand where the beach stretched before them, a pale white ribbon trimmed with conchs, limp piles of drying seaweed, and scattered driftwood that, judging by its ashen color, had long since washed ashore.

Luckily, if slightly surprising, the beach was empty save for them. While night had fallen, it was early yet by Tortuga standards. With the dozens of ships ranging from sloops to galleons, he’d expect some sailors to be meandering the beach.

When he’d brought Sarah up from the cabin with him, the apprehension he’d been feeling surged, solidifying in his mind he was making the right choice by taking her with him. After he’d rowed away from the
Revenge,
and the disquiet he’d felt on deck, it had eased and he’d been able to take his first deep breath of the day.

Unfortunately, while he no longer had the crew to worry about, her presence managed to create another heap of problems. Aye, if someone didn’t look too closely, she could be mistaken for a lad with her trousers and loose-fitting shirt. But even with one of his coats—as the shirt alone had done little to hide the sway of her breasts—and her tresses tucked underneath a large-brimmed hat, she was still Roche’s daughter and he couldn’t be sure what she’d do if she spotted the scoundrel.

Which meant he had to keep her close.

Therein lay the heart of his troubles.

Too close and he smelled her skin, was captivated by her movements. His whole body attuned to her nearness. Not close enough and he worried about keeping her safe, keeping her from attracting unwanted attention.