Driven by the fury of the beast that was ever present within him, James grabbed Patrick by the front of his shirt and slammed him across the railing until the Irishman’s feet were off the deck. The quartermaster was half a head taller than his captain and a heftier sailor, but James had the strength of the wolf on his side. Some of his crew stopped what they were doing to watch.
“That’s exactly what I told you to let her do, you spineless pillock,” James snarled, his golden eyes shining through to tell his subordinate that he wasn’t pulling a laugh. “I said she could do as she pleases. Did you think I was joking?”
The Irishman’s pale eyes went wide, and he groped for James’ arm or the railing for support so he wouldn’t fall overboard. “No, sir. I didn’t think ye were jokin’.”
“Did you not hear me right when I said it?”
“Aye, sir. I heard ye.”
James bared his fangs, another reminder of exactly who was captain of this ship. “The next time I give you an order, I expect you to follow it to the letter or I’ll nail you to the mast for three days.” He leaned close, so Patrick would feel the heat of his breath. “Am I clear?” he shouted, letting the dominance of the beast seep from him like a tidal wave. Sometimes, that’s what it took to make these arrogant rogues listen to him.
Patrick flinched and nodded.
With one swift move, James tossed Patrick back to the deck and sent him rolling, only to stop when his back hit one of the masts. The crew who were standing around stared at their furious captain, but none made a move to help Patrick to his feet.
“Did Mr. O’Leary not give you dogs orders?” James screamed, then proceeded to repeat them for those who were too daft to do as they were told.
The crew, prodded on by the fear of punishment under their merciless captain, snapped back to their jobs. Patrick eventually pushed himself to his feet with the help of a nearby barrel and didn’t so much as cast a glance toward his old friend before making his way to the quarterdeck to monitor Mr. Noir’s progress on orienting the ship.
James took a few deep, soothing breaths as the canvas above him was unfurled to capture the wind. Slowly, the gold melted away from his eyes and he could think straight again. James couldn’t blame Patrick for his decision, but if he couldn’t demand obedience from his second in command, the rest of the crew would follow. He’d never had a crew that mutinied, and he wanted to keep it that way.
His body now warmed by the exertion of the beast, James tossed off the blanket and made his way to the decks below. The ship leaned as Mr. Noir steered them out of the inlet and he heard the clanking of the chain as the anchor was hoisted from the water.
As soon as his foot hit the first tread on the stairs, Grace’s scent blasted him like a strong gale. He paused, but only for a second to get his bearings before plunging forth to meet her. He thought a night away on the island would somehow lessen her feminine hold over his soul, but it only proved that James was hopelessly lost in this new sea of feeling he hadn’t sailed upon before. Never had he felt such an attraction to the opposite sex.
He found her sitting on the floor of her prison cell, legs tucked against her chest, looking meek and a little tired. As soon as she saw the captain make his way toward her, Grace jumped to her feet and stood tall as if she were ready to fight him, all weakness gone from her – or perhaps masked by pride. Grace’s gaze roamed over his half-naked body, but there was no desire in her eyes. Nonetheless James could smell it wafting from her, smothering him. Her heartbeat pounded loud in his ears.
“I see you didn’t put on the dress I got you,” he stated as he propped his hands on his hips, taking in her ratty clothes that should have been burned as soon as she stepped on board. Hopefully there were no fleas or mites hiding in the weave of her shirt and trousers. “Did it not fit?”
She said nothing, but pinned him with that angry glower. It would do her no good.
“I didn’t tell Patrick to lock you away.”
“Liar,” she sneered.
“Black’s the white of me eye. I’m not lying.” He jabbed his finger toward the stairs that led on deck. “I told him to let you do as you pleased and –“
“Obviously you can’t control your own crew, Devil Dog.”
James curled his fingers into a fist and resisted the impulse to slam it against the bars of her cage. He despised being interrupted, almost as much as he hated being accused of things that were not true. She could have called him anything. A murderer, a thief, a pirate, or a monster, and he wouldn’t have felt his blood boil beneath his skin like he did now. If she had been a man and called him a liar or an inefficient captain, James would have gutted her where she stood.
Instead, he met her glare with his own and she didn’t shrink back in fear as so many others did. It was clear that she wasn’t afraid of him and James wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
James stepped up to the prison door, but her feet remained firmly planted. Though Mr. Jacobs, the ship’s carpenter and repairman, would deride the captain for it, James took a firm hold of the bars and yanked the door lose. The locking mechanism broke with a loud crack and he swung it open, the hinges protesting along the way.
“Come on,” he ordered.
Grace didn’t move.
Once again, if she had been a man, James might have resorted to violence to make her obey, but he took control of his temper and stepped aside, a silent invitation to leave the cell. Still, she didn’t budge.
“Surely you don’t want to stay in this piss hole for the next two days.”
“Better than in the company of pirates,” she replied, her pretty face spoiled by the angry scowl.
James cracked a smile. “Too late for that, darlin’.” He waved her on. “I know you’re hungry. I’ll have Mr. Bones make you something.” He was surprised he didn’t hear her stomach growling sooner. Did Patrick order her to go without dinner the night before as well?
At the mention of food, Grace seemed to be second guessing her stubbornness. Her eyes darted to the broken latch on her prison and he knew exactly what she was thinking. Staying locked away might have kept her safe from the ruffians that held her captive. Now that this cell was useless, it couldn’t keep out any cad or blackguard who wanted to have his way with her.
“My quarters are much more comfortable, Grace.”
The passion returned when she said, “You have no right to call me by my given name.”
James sighed. “What else should I call you? Miss Norrie? Trollop? Bitch? Fire-haired Siren? Excuse me if I try to be proper around a lady, but if you want me to call you something else, then by all means, tell me.” She didn’t reply, and James was beginning to lose his patience. “Then, I’ll continue to call you Grace until you can come up with something better. Don’t make me put you in irons and drag you kicking and screaming on the deck, because I will if you don’t get out of that damned cage.”
Her brows shot up. “Do you really think you can just order me about? What happened to letting me do as I pleased?”
“That was before you decided to get sassy with me. Move it.”
Whether it was his threat of clapping her in irons or the tiny pulse of authority he let slip out, James didn’t know, but Grace took one slow step after another, coming toward him willingly for the first time since they had known one another.
He led the way back up the stairs and across the bustling deck. He didn’t have to look back to know that Grace was still following, her walk a little unsure as she passed by the sailors who were too busy getting the ship under way than to worry about what the captain was doing with her.
His cabin were situated under the quarterdeck at the stern of the ship. The stretch of clear windows along the back wall boasted a beautiful view of the dead water trailing behind as they put the island to their rudder and sailed away from the sunrise.
He let her in and Grace’s stare moved about the room, inspecting his bed, the table littered with charts and tools, and the chest sealed fast by
a padlock that only he had the key for.
“It’s not much,” he said from the door. “But it’s private and none of the crew will bother you here.”
Grace slowly turned in place until she faced the window and James felt his chest tighten with longing. The sun bathed her in such a glow that made her hair shine brighter than he had ever seen before. She wore the light as if it were tailormade for her. James stared, feeling the instinctive urge to claim her for himself as if she were an abandoned piece of gold coin, or a ship with no captain and ready to take to open water.
But she was neither of those things. She was a woman, young and blind to the true cruelness of the world. To anyone else’s eyes, James didn’t appear much older than she was, but they didn’t know the truth. If only a few days were enough to impart what wisdom he did have. Then, just maybe, he could send her back to Kingston with more than she left with, and she’d give up on this fantasy about escaping the safe home she was destined for.
She turned and their eyes locked in a breathless moment that he wished could have gone on forever. But no two sunrises were alike, and time would stop for no man, not even a beast like him. He could command this ship and its crew, but he knew in that moment that she was right. He could never command her, just like he couldn’t command the seas or mold it to his will.
“I’ll tell Mr. Bones to bring you something to eat,” he said before forcing himself to turn his back to her.
“Burgoo,” she muttered, bringing his withdrawal to a full stop. “Can you tell him to make me some burgoo?” Partially out of disbelief, James turned back around to meet her sheepish look. “I got a taste for it on The Lady Adventure,” she finished with a shrug.
He was tempted to confess that it had once been a favorite of his too. The porridge-like gruel was easy enough to make, but most of the sailors he met didn’t like it. If only his new stomach could handle the dish, he might have eaten some with her. Alas, his meals were restricted to beef, pork, and the occasional turtle meat they acquired at various ports.
James gave her a nod and left before he did or said something he might come to regret. Just when he thought she was going to be more than he could handle, Grace proved that she had the ability to be agreeable again. He shook his head to rid himself of the notion that the next two days might actually be pleasant and went on down to the kitchen to pass along the lady’s request to the cook.
Ever since James left her that morning, Grace felt an unearthly stirring in her gut, and it had nothing to do with the burgoo Mr. Bones brought her. Nor did it have to do with the rocking and rolling of the ship as it sailed west toward Jamaica. She had found her sea legs weeks ago and barely felt the tickle of nausea anymore.
This new sensation had everything to do with the way James stood in front of her, his torso and chest bare and sprinkled with the fine droplets of seawater. Never had she seen a man his equal in stature and physique. He must have been a sailor since he was a boy. There was no other explanation for such a fine, strong body.
No matter how hard she tried to force the image from her mind, she couldn’t forget the way he stood there with his hands on his hips and the look in his eye that bordered between rage and wanting. Grace knew very well that she was becoming a thorn in his side. If he could grow to hate her, then perhaps these silly fantasies would cease to torment her every waking hour.
She could no more explain why this feeling possessed her as she could explain why the sea behaved the way it did. She couldn’t understand the tempest within her, nor did she want to. All Grace wanted was to be at peace again, like she had been before The Lady Adventure arrived in St. Thomas. Serving as a petty sailor on that ship allowed her to forget about James and the way he looked at her that night in Kingston.
Now that he was so near again, everything had come unraveled like a fagged out rope that wasn’t properly taken care of. Perhaps that’s why her heart ached so badly. She hadn’t been taking good care of that either.
Grace had changed into the dress James had bought her after it was delivered by Mr. Bones with her burgoo. It was a silly thing to do, but the men’s clothes she had been wearing stunk and the modest-cut of the calico dress flattered her figure too much to resist. James must have bought dresses for other ladies before. How else would he have known what would fit her so perfectly? That thought added to the anguish she felt so acutely.
It was foolish to think that he, a pirate who visited many ports and bawdyhouses, wouldn’t have mistresses and lovers. Part of his mystique as The Devil Dog was that he left broken hearts in the wake of his ship every time they shoved off from the docks. Grace probably wasn’t the first woman to sit on the edge of his bed or pace back and forth in front of the window that overlooked the sea they left behind.
Still, she bit her lips together and wrapped her arms around her stomach, willing herself to hold fast to her determination. She would not leave this cabin, not for anything, even if James tried to coax her out. She wouldn’t be so weak as she was in the brig and give into those eyes that pleaded for her to follow him.
Yet, as more stars began to speckle the evening sky to the stern of the ship, James didn’t come. Outside the cabin, she could hear the men being served their meals of salted beef, hardtack, and portions of grog. The more time passed, the louder they shouted in their drunkenness. Soon, music drifted through the air, and she recognized it as the same mandolin that played the night before when she was trapped below deck.
She neared the door to the cabin and listened to the songs and despite their slurred tongues, the voices of the crew sang out to the melodies they knew so well. Grace couldn’t help but smile when they began to play a tune that she recognized, and though no one else could hear, she sang softly to the verses she knew.
One thing she did like about sailing – among many – was the kind of merriment that could be had above and below decks when men weren’t climbing up into the rigging or scrubbing the floors. Even on The Lady Adventure, they played songs like these to pass the time as they sailed. Just another commonality between the respectable mariners and these brigands.
Whether it was out of bravery or curiosity, Grace cracked open the door just enough so she could peek out onto the deck. The crew were sitting around, some on barrels and some on the railings as they hung onto the ratlines that led up to the mast, mugs in their free hands and smiling as they celebrated one another’s company.
In the dim lantern light, she looked for James. It didn’t take her long. All she had to do was find the one pair of eyes that were locked on hers. Grace let out a tiny gasp and retreated into the captain’s cabin, holding the doorknob tight as if that would keep him out. That would have been useless. She saw how strong he was, and he could easily tear the door clean off its hinges if he wanted to get in.
This was ludicrous. She felt no fear when she left home, joined the crew on The Lady Adventure, or spent night after night sleeping in a hammock in the midst of other men who had no idea she was a woman. Yet her heart pounded hard against her ribs when she saw James looking right at her. Grace beat her forehead against the wood planks of the door and then strode away to the middle of the cabin, her fingers woven into her red hair, ready to pull out every lock as if she had lost her mind.
The door behind her opened and she spun to see James standing there, a sly look on his face. He must have known what he was doing to her and the scoundrel enjoyed it. His eyes raked over her and nodded in approval. Thankfully, she saw no evidence of drunkenness in his gaze.
“The dress suits you,” he said as he shut the door. Even from across the room, she heard the click of the metal as the latch fell into place.
They were alone. Not for the first time, but her nerves seized anyway. She balled her hands into fists until her nails pressed through the bandages to open the healing cuts in her palms.
His smile faltered. “Don’t do that or I’ll have to redress them myself.”
Grace thought she could have used the pain to snap her out of her deli
rium, but upon James’ threat, she unclenched her hands.
“What do you want?” she asked, feigning an air of authority like this was her quarters and that he was the one intruding.
James crossed his muscled arms over his chest and she was glad he was clothed. Otherwise, the pose might have showcased his thick upper arms a little too well.
“I saw you peeking out. They may be three sheets to the wind, but if you can handle the rough talk, you’re welcome to come mess around.”
All she could do was shake her head. They may have been having a jolly time, but Grace didn’t think she could stand to be leered at as if she were some whore from a bawdyhouse. James could order them to turn a blind eye all he wanted, but it wouldn’t stop them. One advantage of her disguise on The Lady Adventure was that none of the men regarded her as a woman, but as a rangy youth that hadn’t grown into his beard yet.
James took another step closer, his heavy boots tapping against the floor of the cabin. “I think you and me might have gotten a little fouled up. You have to know that I intend you no harm.”
She did the unthinkable and met his gaze, searching for an excuse to call him a liar again or disbelieve what he said. Yet, he didn’t have that hesitant, nervous look like a man who didn’t mean his words.
“I know you don’t,” she said softly, still fighting against the strong current of emotion that beat against her. “I would say you’ve been nothing but kind to me… But in taking me back to my father, you’re doing me a disservice.”
That devilish smile returned to his lips. “The sea is no place for a woman. Look at your hands,” he said as he gestured to them. “That’s proof enough you have no business being on a ship.”
“I could hold my own just fine,” she countered.
It was the truth, but the slight waiver in her statement made one of his dark brows lift up just a bit in disbelief. She did hold her own while on The Lady Adventure. She did everything that was asked of her, even cleaning out the bilge. She was never thanked, never appreciated, but for once in her life, Grace was useful. There was a sense of accomplishment in every task she carried out, no matter how small, because she knew that it was all necessary to keep the ship on course.
The Pirate (The Legacy Series Book 5) Page 5
