Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge (6 page)

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I quite enjoy the idea of you serving me. Shamefully, I have not used you enough. I fully mean to rectify that.”

Her heart sank. The despicable man. He meant to make her miserable.

“Instead of mending clothes or doing other menial chores, you will show me your bookkeeping knowledge. Understand I will still require you to see to my needs. Start servicing me now.”

“Do you require another bath?”
Oh, my.
When did she turn brazen?

“Anxious to finish the job, are you?”

Heat flushed her face. “If I’m to be in close proximity with you, I’d prefer you not smell like fish bait.”

He bent down, grabbing the arms of the chair, and pinned her to her seat. “Do I smell like fish bait, little one? If not, I could wallow in the hull’s bilge water.”

Elyssa relished the captain’s levity and mischievous smile. She longed to keep him in good humor. It didn’t matter what he had her do as long as she was near him. This revelation startled her.

The captain laughed, a glorious sound. “Best you start with filling my cup with rum, before you chew off your bottom lip.”

He pushed off the chair to give her room to rise. In an instant, she regretted not bantering further with him. Perhaps if she had she would still be nose to nose with him.

“Then we will take a closer look at my…log.”

The last few days had Elyssa floating on a wondrous cloud. She had looked forward to the day’s work with Captain Blackthorn. Despite what he claimed otherwise, the captain’s arithmetic sorely lacked. Together they had uncovered several more mistakes and she had adjusted his numbers to better suit him when he sold his cargo. He had taken his supper with her each evening, as well as engaging in idle chatter. Having his attention, sharing her knowledge of sturdier financial affairs with him, soaking in his heat, his musk, his throaty laugh, made her twittery with expectation of seeing him again.

But they had finished his books. He had no reason to come to her today. Many excuses to call for him bounded through her mind. She’d considered “finding” another mathematical error. In the end, she knew she’d appear transparent in wanting his company. Her fingers ached from chewing the skin around her nails bare, wondering when she’d see him.

What a scandalous way to be in, pining for a pirate, the keeper of her shackles. Yet she couldn’t help but fall into his eyes when he looked upon her.
Moon-eyed goosecap.

A quick rap on the door and Captain Blackthorn flourished into the cabin. Giggles of relief bubbled forth.

Blackthorn had no good reason for dining with Elyssa, other than it pleased him. So few things pleased him these days. A fine bottle of wine, a silver-laden quarry, an occasional night of lusty sin, pleased him, to be sure. But the sense of fulfillment was fleeting. Shame, really. His thirst for the bounty of pirating had ceased to sate him some time ago. Now the only thing he thirsted for was the bonny lass stealing coy glances at him over the rim of her cup.

She’d invaded his every waking moment. Her heavenly smile, the faintest hint of perfumed skin, the tiny hitch in her breath when he drew too near. Even their conversations he replayed in his mind. He’d been most curious about her dreams to run her own shipping business. What an audacious venture. One which made her all the most admirable. More than once, he stole peeks down her tunic as he leaned over her shoulder, pretending to scrutinize his log books. He had been scrutinizing, all right. Scrutinizing how her breasts would feel in the palm of his hand. Scrutinizing the taste of her flesh as he dragged his tongue down the valley of her chest to her most coveted spot. If he were honest with himself, he was happy with her prancing through his thoughts, rollicking in visions of naked limbs and crumbled sheets. Gave him something else to languish upon rather than the uncertainty of another wasted day. Damned pity to have taken a liking to her. Once he ransomed her off, he’d be back to his roving. At least until he got word from Christensen.

The sooner, the better. There was no room for an angel in his life. And a pirate’s ship was no place for a woman. They could be attacked by the Royal Navy at any time. Aye, he needed to get rid of her.

But tonight, he would enjoy her until his plundering instincts fired up.

“I’m curious, Captain Blackthorn.” Elyssa removed his empty dinner plate and stacked it with her own. “And please,” she said. “I do not mean to step from politeness nor disparage you.” She topped off his mug with a fresh bottle of liquor. “Why have you chosen your trade?”

Her question took him aback. It was unsuitable conversation between the likes of him and a woman. “’Tis not a story for a lady’s ears.”

“I don’t doubt that. But it is one I want to hear. You know about me, and yet, I know little of you.”

He leaned back in his chair, slowly rubbing the prickly stubble of his chin. No doxy had ever wanted to know him as a man, or why he was a pirate. Seemed those strumpets were simply excited to be bedded by a dangerous rogue, thrilled he would shower them with his ill-gotten gold for a swive.

She had no idea how vexing her request was, or how much he wanted to lay the most beautiful jeweled necklace upon her throat. No ill-gotten gold coins for her. Why he felt that way about this bit of fluff was beyond him. ’Twas like trying to make out a shape in the shadows of night. He just couldn’t quite form the answer. “I’m just another man lawful society condemned.”

“What was your crime?” She rested her chin into her palm with genuine curiosity.

“’Tis unimportant.” He truly wished it were so.

“I believe it to be quite important, as turning pirate guarantees a hanging at low tide.”

He chuckled. “I bow my head to the executioner who pulls the lever and leaves me kicking the wind.”

“You trifle with big talk.”

Despair, swilled with anger, clouded his mind. “Do not make a mistake, lass. I am deserving of the devil’s scourge. From the very moment I spilled innocent blood, my sins thereafter were of little consequence. No holy cleansing, no absolution would ever rectify what had been done.”

“Innocent?”

“A boy, dead, by my hand.” He glared at her, wanting to put fear into her. She should not forget he was a pirate in every sense of the word. Her life was at his discretion.

“You killed a boy?” Her eyes grew the size of doubloons. “How?”

“You’re an intrusive chit.”

“Perhaps. But if you wish to frighten me, to which you are trying so hard to do, then you should tell me what darkness led you to become a cruel, vicious man, which incidentally, you are not.”

“You make a grave mistake to misjudge me.”

“Then prove to me I am wrong. Tell me what happened.”

He would rather talk more about her, hear more stories of the little girl who once sneaked into her papa’s office and scribbled pictures of flowers and kittens in all his record books, of how she preferred riding her mare in the rain to prattling with genteel ladies over tea, and of the dreams she had not so long ago of running a business of her own.

Blackthorn crossed his arms over his chest. Elyssa wasn’t going to let the conversation die. Much like the ghosts of his past still haunting him. If she wanted to know what kind of monster he was, then he would tell her. Mayhap her disgust and fear in him would make it all the more easier to rid himself of her in New Providence.

“He was my charge while docked in Antigua. The sixteen year-old son of Admiral Drummond of the Royal Navy. The upstart let no one forget it, always using threats of castigation or removal if he didn’t get his way.” No one had wanted to challenge the lad, or go up against his equally arrogant father. Blackthorn didn’t have a problem with putting the boy in his place, and he wasn’t scared of Admiral Drummond, either. He supposed that was one reason why Joseph had been assigned to him. The other reason was what got him killed.

“He demanded to be taught swordplay, specifically without the pleasantries of prescribed behavior. But the little shit had no discipline.” Elyssa was unaffected by his vulgar tongue. Instead, she listened intently, her hands cupped tightly around her mug. Criminy, the lass had been around crude jack tars too long.

Blackthorn remembered well Joseph’s barbing slurs on his bastardized breeding, contemptuous eye rolling and sneers. Many occasions had Blackthorn tempering his urge to backhand the sprat.

The day the boy met his death had been no different.

He had taken Joseph up to a grassy bluff overlooking the craggy shoreline of English Harbour for lessons. Wind swept up the cliff in blustery bursts. The air was heavy and smelled of a recent rain. Blackthorn had been out of sorts, hearing a rumor his betrothed was seen without an escort in a garden with another man. He’d been in no mood for Joseph’s backbiting.

“He adopted a terrible technique, overextending himself in thrusts. Forevermore I had to correct him, until I began kicking his legs from under him each time he left his flank exposed. The boy didn’t appreciate kissing the ground time and again. He took to name-calling and threatening me. I ordered him to hold his clack, to stand down.” Joseph had been wild-eyed, his mouth twitched with hate. Blackthorn should have known he was foolish enough to not obey.

“He attacked. I disarmed him easily enough, and with the tip of my blade tucked neatly under his chin, I informed him I would no longer be his teacher. He promised to have me imprisoned for dereliction.” One of the greatest moments of Blackthorn’s miserable life was the dumbfounded look on Joseph’s pompous mug when he told the bastard to flog off.

Joseph had sworn Blackthorn would regret his mistake. He’d been right.

“I walked away. The boy went into a fit of anger, retrieved his weapon from the ground, and charged me. When I spun around, he impaled upon my sword.” Elyssa’s tiny gasp did not compare to the one that escaped from Joseph’s lips. The shock, the fear in Joseph’s eyes, burned a hellish hole into Blackthorn’s soul. As much as he hated the princock, he hadn’t wanted him dead.

Blackthorn threw back the rest of his nearly full mug of rum. The bitter liquor scalded down his throat. No amount of the elixir would wash away the boy’s blood tainting his existence.

“I removed my blade and he stumbled backward,”—tears and blood had flowed freely— “falling off the cliff to the rocks below. Thus my fate was sealed.”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

“He was my responsibility.”

“Surely you couldn’t be blamed.”

“I was. And I was stripped of my honor and my occupation.” Apparently he should have been more fearful of Joseph’s father, or rather, what the Admiral could do. “Admiral Drummond had me imprisoned for murder. I was to be hung, but I managed an escape.” Blackthorn would never forget how Christensen risked his own life to slip him a key. He gave Blackthorn a fighting chance, nothing more. Blackthorn hoped to return the favor someday.

“So you turned to piracy?”

“What better way to live a condemned life than to turn on the country who would throw me out like the filth mucking a chamber pot. To plunder English merchants and wreak havoc to British trade.”

“But why did you attack the
Maraville
?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t care for Spaniards.”

“So you’ve gone to war with all of mankind.”

“’Twas the only trade I could pick up a living. A mighty fine one, at that. Losing it all, now I take what I may, including you.” He lifted his empty mug and she quickly saw to her duty. Good. He had reacquainted her with her precarious position as a pirate’s captive. “Tell me, chit. What do you think of me now?”

“I don’t see an evil rogue. I see a wounded man. Forced to this life by circumstance, and not accepting the unjust opinions condemning him.”

What? He didn’t understand. Why wasn’t she quaking in her boots? She should be, no,
needed
to be fearful of him. “I kill for my own gain.”