Beneath Black Sails

by Clare Sager

  Eyebrow raised, she nodded. “Thank you, Perry.”

  “Excellent. I do love – er – well, I take a lot of pride in a job well done.” She brushed her hands off as if she’d been working lines on deck. “Enjoy your chat” – she opened the door, a waft of air blowing through the room – “then really enjoy making up.” She flashed a grin as brazen as any of Vee’s, then disappeared, closing the door softly in her wake.

  He gestured for Vee to sit. Perry’s chair was empty now, but with a little luck, she’d choose the space on the bunk beside him. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he wanted her close. Her cool hands on his brow, the reassurance of her touch, however temporary that had to be.

  She watched him, then her gaze fell to the spot beside him. For once there was no hint of humour in her eyes, edging her lips. “I – I am sorry.” Brows drawn together, she nodded. “It was a mistake.”

  Vee. Apologising. Again.

  He snorted softly and nodded, smiling. “I know. In case it wasn’t clear, you’re completely forgiven – not that you wronged me. As I said” – he lifted his hands, palms towards her – “no right. No demands.”

  A sharp sigh blew from her, then the corner of her mouth rose, and she came to sit on the bunk.

  Trying to hide his smile, he leant back on his elbows. Perry had said to talk, but what to say? About their feelings … Vee did not invite that kind of deep discussion.

  And it looked like she wasn’t about to start it. Fine. He would.

  He cocked his head at her. “So, the great Pirate Queen Vice isn’t as tough and unfeeling as she tries to appear.”

  Vee’s shoulders tensed. “I am exactly as tough as I appear.” She twisted to look back at him, bristling. “And I don’t pretend to be unfeeling, I’m just immune to the silly, soft emotions. I feel joy, anger, excitement, humour, and desire very well.” She huffed a long breath. “I’m not sure any of the others are worth it.”

  So she could pick and choose what emotions to feel? That would be a useful trick if it were possible. “What are these soft emotions, then?”

  Snorting, she tossed her hair and flopped back beside him, jostling the bunk. “Love, sorrow, caring, grief …” She shrugged.

  He rolled on his side to face her, propping his head up with hand and elbow. “I wouldn’t say love seems very soft ... nor grief. And I’d say caring for someone might be one of the fiercest feelings going.” Wasn’t that what had driven him to disobey orders and risk losing control by boarding the Covadonga?

  A sardonic smile twisted her mouth as she stared at the sea-blue drapes over the bunk. “And how many times have you been in love, exactly?”

  He cleared his throat. “Much as I’m ashamed to admit it, the Navy has left me little time to pursue that particular emotion.”

  Her chest rose and fell quickly. “Then, as someone who was once stupid enough to believe herself in love, allow me to educate you.” Her tone was light like she was discussing how to cheat at cards or what was cooking in the galley. But her gaze was dark, heavy, like the sea before a storm. “Love is weakness. Love makes you soft. Love is a fool’s game – it’ll only destroy you. Stick to the Navy and other ways to spend your time. Lust, desire, sex – they have all the enjoyment and none of the risk. It’s all just bodies.”

  He opened his mouth but couldn’t give a reply. He couldn’t refute it because he’d never experienced it. It wasn’t as though he could hold up Mother and Father as an exemplar of romantic bliss.

  Father. He gritted his teeth against a hot wave blasting over him. He hadn’t thought of the man in days.

  Vee swallowed then smiled brightly. “I avoid attachment for similar reasons.”

  Oh, Vee. What an absurd lie. One he could refute. He raised an eyebrow. “You seem very attached to Perry.”

  “Perry’s an exception. I ... I’d miss her if she went away.”

  “And what about me?” He hadn’t meant to say it, but at least the words had the good grace to come out quietly. He did want to know, though. Perry had said Vee cared for him, that was the reason for her response. Was she right?

  A war waged on Vee’s face. A frown, then flared nostrils, then her lips pursed. Her eyes widened for a moment, perhaps in fear.

  Guilt twisted in his belly. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

  Her hand slid across the sheets and her fingers interlocked with his, the grip as sure as someone hauling a man who’d fallen overboard back on deck.

  He bit back a sigh at her cool touch. If he made a sound, he might break this spell upon her that edged so close to honesty, scant inches from vulnerability.

  “That day,” she whispered, barely above a breath, “at the reef …”

  His chest tightened. When they’d dived to see the whale shark and he’d strayed into a powerful current …

  Wild Hunt, he’d thought he was for Davy Jones’ locker that day. And she’d poured so much of her gift, so much of her energy into bringing him back that she’d barely been able to swim to shore and she was an unnaturally strong swimmer. She’d lain on the beach unconscious, pale, shivering for almost an hour.

  Because she’d miss him if he went away? He raised his eyebrows but didn’t dare voice the question.

  Her gaze was still on the drapes.

  His ears strained, ready for her to say something more in that quiet breath of a voice.

  She inhaled, and he mirrored the action in anticipation.

  She blinked, and all the heaviness disappeared from her eyes. Slowly, she smiled. “I’d miss your warmth,” she said, voice low and velvety, no longer that tiny secret whisper. She turned his hand and let her finger circle the palm. “You’re always so warm” – she rolled to face him, only a few inches away, gaze following the motion of her fingertip, thoughtful – “I wonder if it’s part of your gift.”

  And the walls were back up.

  He swallowed a sigh of disappointment. For Vee, she’d said a lot. This was the most they’d spoken about feelings in – well, the whole time they’d known each other. And she’d mentioned the reef in that odd, soft moment. It wasn’t much of an answer, but maybe it meant she – in her own chipped way – cared for him.

  She stroked his knuckles, pulling them to her lips. “And, these hands,” she said against his skin, the air tickling, tingling. “I’d be sad to see them go.” Eyes on him, she kissed each finger.

  His body hummed with the low vibration of her words, the way her touches skimmed, teasing. He breathed a soft laugh and raised his eyebrows to ask what else she’d miss.

  Her thumb rasped against the stubble on his jawline, making him blink and draw a hitching breath. When her fingers whispered into his hair, he shuddered, pulse pounding.

  “And I’d miss this really quite breathtaking face,” she murmured.

  “Hmm?” Now she’d released his hand, he was free to pull her close, press her body against his, her yielding curves and strong muscles such a sweet contradiction.

  “Oh yes.” She nodded, hand trailing down his neck, over his shoulder, and planing across his chest, leaving fire in its wake, “and this glorious body.” Her hand slipped to his back, leaving nothing between them but thin layers of shirts and breeches.

  Eyes dark, she smiled lazily, but her chest heaved against his, and her breaths fanned across his face, heavy and full. “And, of course, this mouth.”

  With the barest tilt, her lips feathered against his and it took every inch of his self-control not to surge against her but to wait.

  “How could I forget?” Her words brushed against his sensitive skin, streaking sparks through him, stoking fire low in his belly.

  It wasn’t an explicit admission of how much she cared, but her touch on each part of him and her praise felt like playful worship. The kind of worship on Calan Mai’s feast days, with its floral crowns and the chasing dance through the forest at night, full of laughter and lovers and quiet clearings. She didn’t say the exact words, but her attention said he was special all the same.

&n
bsp; At last, she angled her mouth to his in a thorough, delving kiss that made him groan and loop his other arm around her, wringing out every inch of contact he possibly could. Legs, stomachs, chests, arms, hands, mouths, tongues … It still wasn’t enough.

  He grabbed her thigh, pulling it around his hips, bringing her deliciously against him.

  She made a soft sound into his mouth, following his momentum and rolling on top, hands planted on his chest, fingers flexed against him. Panting, she drew away an inch. “And yes, that tongue” – she bit her lip, gaze flicking to his mouth – “so very skilful. It would be a shame if that went anywhere.”

  Pride glowed through him. She certainly did enjoy his tongue. He’d given her a pillow to scream the evidence of that into on several occasions.

  Grinning, he raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realise you thought I was such a great wordsmith.”

  She chuckled and lowered herself against him, the gentle pressure teasing. “That wasn’t the angle I was going for.”

  “Ah” – he grabbed her rear and wrenched her hard against him, his breath catching – “then – then it’s my singing?”

  Cheeks a glorious shade of pink, more hot setting sun than delicate rose, she shook her head. “No, no, no.” With each word she ground against him, wrenching a groan from his throat. “I meant –”

  “I know exactly what you meant.” He chuckled against her lips before the kiss grew urgent, and he gripped her backside, flipping their positions. With a last, hard drive against her – he’d finish that later – he yanked her hips to the edge of the bunk and knelt. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

  With a shaky laugh, she watched him trail kisses down her body, his gaze staying upon hers, even as he pulled off her boots and breeches and palmed her thighs apart. As he paused there, her chest heaved, mouth open in a way that made him want to lose himself against it.

  “Now,” he murmured, gaze still locked on hers, the scent of her filling his breaths, “I believe it was something along these lines …”

  Nassau Now, Nassau Then

  It was almost seven weeks since they’d last been in Nassau, but it might as well have been a lifetime. Perhaps several. Hadn’t Knigh sworn off the temptation of Vee that day in the bookshop? And yet here they were, walking through the streets side-by-side, having thoroughly succumbed.

  They took the same route as last time, snaking up towards the grocer’s first. Again, he wore her tricorn hat and civilian clothes. He hadn’t worn his uniform in weeks.

  He wanted to offer his arm and walk the town with her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow, but she kept several inches between them, veering away every time he came closer. The way she lifted her chin and strode with such purpose didn’t welcome interference from anyone else – him included.

  This morning, he’d woken to find her still in his bunk where usually she crept out in the night, returning to the hammock she’d slung in Perry’s cabin.

  Face peaceful, she’d cuddled against him, arm draped over his waist. He hadn’t had the heart to wake or move her, so he’d lain there until a sudden deeper breath, and the fluttering of her eyelids said she was awake. In that first moment, she’d burrowed against him with a soft sound of contentment – all gentle, affectionate, no note of seduction in her movements.

  Then her eyes had sprung open, and she’d frozen. With a muttered oath, she’d stared at the bright light spilling through the stern windows and had rolled away and dressed, swearing about the time.

  She’d been tetchy ever since.

  Naturally, she was concerned she might have been spotted leaving his cabin. Someone must’ve worked out what was going on, but no one had said anything, except Perry. Aedan had taken to giving Knigh a broad grin whenever they were near Vee, but that was all. He understood the possible danger from FitzRoy well enough to keep quiet.

  And even if word had reached FitzRoy, he was either past caring or was sensible enough to not threaten the Queen’s representative.

  That was still one problem he needed to deal with. He’d prepared a report to send back to the Admiralty, recommending they make Vee a privateer rather than arrest her. That was a start, and the contact who’d delivered FitzRoy’s original message was here in Nassau, ready to take the report back to Albion. The contact was due to leave first thing in the morning. They were scheduled to arrive in Albion before The Morrigan, in plenty of time to warn the Admiralty to be ready.

  But Knigh still hadn’t had the talk with FitzRoy. There was no more delaying it – they’d be leaving for Albion within the week, once they’d stocked up for the voyage. He had to speak to the man tonight.

  He sighed. That would be fun.

  Vee raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Something wrong?”

  Shaking his head, he scoffed. She was the one who’d spent the morning festering on the idea of her crewmates knowing she’d spent the night in his cabin. “Not with me, no, but you’ve been as tetchy as a sabrecat with toothache.”

  She blinked, gaze drifting away. “Hmm, I suppose I have, haven’t I?”

  “Just a touch.”

  Laughing, she shook her head and nudged him with her elbow. “Sometimes I think I preferred it when you were Mr Control and didn’t make any jokes.”

  “I can bring him back if you like?” He arched an eyebrow. “Of course, he doesn’t tend to entertain women in his cabin – that’s far too wanton behaviour.”

  Her mouth twisted to one side and she cocked her head, narrowed eyes looking up thoughtfully. “Hmm … On second thoughts, I think I can put up with your sarcasm, even when it is at my expense.” She grinned and closed the gap she’d kept between them, her arm against his as they strolled on.

  Making her laugh at herself – and at him – seemed to have done the trick, because by the time they reached the grocer’s they were chatting, teasing, flirting, laughing as usual, her easy smile back in place.

  They went from shop to shop, stocking The Morrigan ready for the voyage back to Albion, as well as picking up personal items at a much-reduced rate for the crew. Again, the storekeeps had warm welcomes for them both – hugs for Vee and shoulder-slapping handshakes for Knigh when they recognised him from last time.

  “Back again,” the brawny timber merchant near the edge of town said when they walked in. Once he’d given the usual greeting, wrapping Vee in a bear-hug, he looked from her to Knigh and back again, eyebrows raised. “You know what, Vice? I always secretly thought you’d end up with me, but” – he gave an exaggerated shake of his head, lifting one shoulder – “I don’t mind losing out when the two of you make such a bloody handsome couple.”

  Knigh scoffed, but the words spread warmth through him. His gaze slid to Vee.

  Face frozen in a wide-eyed look, she took a step back. Blinking as if waking, she shook her head and snorted. “We’re not –”

  “No,” Knigh said softly, “we’re not.” This was only and could only be a temporary arrangement.

  The merchant just laughed, folding his arms. “Don’t look at me like that – I might not be fae-touched, but I can see when two people are shagging just as clearly as if it was a gift.”

  “Heh, well” – Vee planted her hands on her hips – “a broken gift, perhaps. Besides, shagging doesn’t make a couple now, does it?”

  Knigh’s heart clenched, but he kept his face still. Was that all this was? But, no, it was weeks ago that she’d fled to FitzRoy’s cabin and Perry had explained Vee’s feelings. She’d even, in her own way, admitted to caring for him. Hells, she’d risked her life to save his.

  He took a slow breath. She cared, she just wasn’t about to advertise it to a Nassau timber merchant when she couldn’t even say it out loud. After all, didn’t she have a reputation to maintain?

  The merchant’s dark eyes narrowed, passing from her to Knigh again, the look making Knigh shift – far too penetrating. “If that was all I saw, then no, but you –”

  “But we,” she said, smile bright, eyes sharp, “are
here to do business.” Her hand thudded on the merchant’s table, leaving a crinkled list of supplies behind.

  They did just that, negotiating yet another rate favourable to The Morrigan. Still, Vee’s usual ease carried a stiffness that was so out of place on her, it made Knigh ache. Excellent, just as he’d managed to cheer her up, this timber merchant had sent her closed and prickly again.

  When they left, she squinted at the sky and backed away, steps crunching on the sand-strewn cobbles. “I – I have some private business to attend to.” With a brittle smile, she nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

  Knigh opened his mouth to argue, but her back was already turned, long legs carrying her away. What use would it do, anyway? He sighed and shook his head. Perhaps it was best to leave her alone for a while, anyway.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he watched her disappear around a corner. Frustrating woman.

  Still, he could use this as a chance to explore Nassau for himself, discover some corner her usual route didn’t cover. He set off in the opposite direction, letting his feet wander where they wished.

  As his first visit had suggested, Nassau was a lot like the other trading towns settlers had built in the parcels of lands the local civilisations had granted. Perhaps a few more taverns and brothels than Port Royal or maybe it was that these were open about their trades rather than hiding behind more respectable façades.

  In his wanderings, an earring in a shop window caught his eye. The earring’s front was shaped like a dagger hilt and decorated with twinkling black gems. The back had been crafted to look like a blade. When worn, it would look as though a tiny dagger had been plunged through the earlobe.

  I’ll cut out your tongue with your own dagger.

  He chuckled. How could he walk past that? No, just like he couldn’t resist her, he couldn’t resist this. It would suit her beautifully, the silver shining bright against her dark hair. Within minutes, he emerged from the shop, the dagger earring in his breast pocket.

  As the day wore on, the sun beat down more and more mercilessly making him grateful for Vee’s tricorn hat shielding his eyes. And when an astonishingly buxom woman leant from a window, beckoning him closer, he was also thankful for it as a tool to duck behind.