by Brenda Novak
Clifton let out a gut-wrenching scream and the vision instantly dissipated. The doctor had made his first cut several inches above the original wound. Blood splattered everywhere as he continued to slice through the muscles and tendons. Then he began to saw through the bone.
Nathaniel turned his face away, feeling sick. His half brother’s arm twisted back and forth with the friction, then there was a soft thud as the cankerous hand fell to the floor.
Silence. The marquess had fainted, but no such oblivion eased Nathaniel’s pain. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear Clifton’s screams echoing in his head.
“Are you all right?” Trenton watched Nathaniel with a look of concern.
“I’m fine. I think Nanchu can finish now. Let’s get out of here.”
The putrid smell of burning flesh combined with hot tar followed them all the way to the galley.
“Charlie, give me that bottle of Blue Ruin I had you tuck away,” Nathaniel said.
Charlie raised his tufted eyebrows. “That bad, eh?”
“That bad,” Trenton breathed, but it was Nathaniel who grabbed the bottle from the cook’s hand when Charlie retrieved it, and together they headed to Trenton’s cabin.
* * *
Alexandra knew something was wrong the moment Nathaniel opened the door. Normally quiet and as surefooted as a cat’s, his step was loud and uneven, and he groaned as he clipped the wall with his shoulder.
She tried not to smile at his clumsiness. He’d obviously had too much to drink. The headache he’d own in the morning would be a just revenge.
“Bloody hell!”
Hearing the mumbled curse, Alexandra wondered what other mishap Nathaniel had managed. It was too dark to see anything except the soft glow of his teeth and the whites of his eyes, but she thought he’d hit his shin on the chair as he stumbled to the window.
He was close enough for her to smell the alcohol on him, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She hated that smell. She associated it with everything she had suffered at her stepfather’s hands. But she’d seen little evidence that Nathaniel drank much. His men downed rum like water—the slimy ship water tasted so bad that half the time she didn’t blame them—but rarely had she smelled an excess of alcohol on Nathaniel.
So he has one redeeming feature, she thought grudgingly.
Evidently he still had a bottle in his hand. Alexandra heard the soft pop as he tipped it up and took a long drink. Then he sank down on the floor in the small circle of light made by the moon and gazed up through the porthole.
What’s he thinking? Alexandra wondered, noticing how much softer the hard planes of his face looked in the mellow light. His hair, loose from its tie, fell tousled about his shoulders; his clothes were uncharacteristically disheveled. He looked like a forlorn lad sitting there, like the lonely little boy he must once have been.
Alexandra wrestled with herself, trying to remain indifferent. After a few moments, she rose and padded over to him.
He didn’t so much as turn at the muted sound of her movements. He just continued to stare out the window at the stars.
“Let’s get you to bed.” She tugged gently on his arm, and he stood, letting her pull the tails of his shirt from his trousers and undo its buttons. As she slipped the garment over his shoulders, she tried not to notice how her hands burned when they brushed his skin.
“That’s good,” she said. “Now sit.”
“You don’t know what good is.” He remained standing, just inches away from her, and she could feel his eyes cutting through the darkness. “But I could teach you.”
His gentle invitation made Alexandra giddy. How many nights had she watched him disrobe for bed, heard the sounds he made as he settled himself, and wished he’d come to her? But did she want him like this? He was only searching for a way to stop the pain. He wanted to lose himself in her arms for the same reason he had tried to drown himself in the bottle.
“You’re not up to teaching anyone anything tonight,” she chided.
She saw the glint of his teeth as his mouth stretched into a lascivious grin. “Try me,” he said, pulling her hand to the physical proof.
Alexandra let her fingers linger as the most delicious sensation assailed her. She could spend this one night with him and hold the memory of it forever, except that her terms demanded more than one brief encounter. She couldn’t give her body without giving her heart. Pulling away, she pressed him back, and he sank onto the bed.
She knelt between his legs to take off his boots. He was in shadow now; she could no longer see the silhouette of his face, but she could feel his gaze on the top of her head. She nearly changed her mind about joining him—until one moment’s imagination showed her what it would be like tomorrow, knowing she could never have him for good. Willy had shown her pain enough; she wasn’t going to ask for more, especially of such an exquisite type.
Rising, Alexandra tried to press Nathaniel back so she could cover him with blankets, but he resisted her attempt. He sat rigid for a moment, then his arm went slowly around her waist. Pulling her to him, he laid his head on her breast.
Alexandra’s hands lifted instinctively to caress him as she would a hurt child. Running her fingers through his hair, she used her nails to gently scratch his scalp until his breathing slowed, and he relaxed against her, falling asleep.
Still weak from her injury, Alexandra couldn’t hold him long. Smiling, she kissed the top of his head, then laid him back, and this time he relaxed into the covers.
Marveling at the many facets of the pirate captain, Alexandra climbed into his hammock, her bare legs chilly beneath his long shirt. He could have the bed for the night, she decided. But her arms felt cold and empty without him, and it was a long time before she slept.
* * *
Alexandra woke to find the sun streaming in at the porthole and Nathaniel staring at her from the bed.
“Tell me about your stepfather,” he said softly.
Alexandra blinked in surprise. To convince Nathaniel of her true identity when he thought she was Lady Anne, she had told the pirate captain as much as she wanted him to know about Willy. It wasn’t a subject she enjoyed talking about. “Why do you ask?”
“I know you wanted to leave him badly enough to steal a dress and flee. There had to be a reason.”
Alexandra lowered her gaze to the scarred, wooden floor, avoiding the intensity in Nathaniel’s eyes. She wished she could just as easily avoid a recounting of the miserable years with Willy. “Willy turned to gin when my mother died nearly five years ago, and drinking makes him... violent.”
Nathaniel flinched, but whether in response to her words or what had to be a terrible headache after last night, Alexandra didn’t know. “He hurt you?”
She nodded.
“Often?”
“Whenever he got drunk, which was often enough. Only, I learned to avoid him when he was like that... most of the time.” She forced a smile to her lips to cover the ache in her heart. Willy was the only father she had ever known. His betrayal was not an easy thing to understand or accept. Neither was the fact that his actions had forced her to break the promise she had given her mother that she would look after him.
Shoving the pillows behind his back, Nathaniel sat up. He still wore the pants she’d left on him the night before, but as he moved, the blankets slid down to his waist, revealing his powerful torso.
Alexandra hoped her face did not show the longing she felt to touch him. Now that he had broached the subject of her background, she found she wanted to talk about it after all. She needed someone to hold her and to tell her that she wasn’t to blame for Willy’s hatred. That she hadn’t earned his derision. That under the circumstances, she couldn’t be expected to make good on her promise to stay and care for him.
As if reading her mind, Nathaniel motioned her to him.
Alexandra paused only a moment before moving closer, her need for solace overriding her usual wariness.
He held back the cove
rs, welcoming her into the warmth of the bed and sharing the heat of his body by wrapping his arm around her and holding her close. “What now, sweet Alexandra?” he murmured against the hair at her temple.
She breathed in the scent that was uniquely his own. “Now I find work in London,” she said, finding his embrace and the slight motion as he rocked her comforting in a very basic way. She’d had no one to ease her fears or calm her troubled thoughts for so long. She felt like a starving man sitting down to a sumptuous feast, though she thought it strange that it would be the insolent pirate captain who knew what she needed—and just how much of it to give.
“Why London?” he asked.
“Why not?” She pressed her cheek to his chest and tried to absorb every texture that was Nathaniel Kent. Never had she imagined a man so virile and appealing to the senses.
“Because you said your aunt is on her way to India. Do you know anyone else there?”
She shook her head, wishing he wouldn’t talk, wanting him to simply hold her forever.
For several minutes, she had her wish. Then he broke the silence. “We’ll reach Bristol today. I have to make arrangements to trade Lord Clifton for Richard, but then I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
Alexandra opened her mouth to argue. The tenderness she felt for Nathaniel at that moment, and the night before, had destroyed a good measure of her reserve, and she thought it best if they parted sooner rather than later. But she didn’t say so. Her words might cause him to let go of her and get out of bed, and she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
Part of her wondered if she ever would be.
* * *
Nanchu had just finished taking a final look at the marquess’s arm when Nathaniel entered the sick bay.
“I want to send a message to your father,” he told his half brother, keeping his eyes carefully averted from the boy’s right arm, which now ended in a white bandage where his hand should have been.
“My arrival in this condition will be message enough.” Clifton sent him a scornful glance. “You will pay for this. Mark my words.”
Nathaniel ignored the threat. The boy had brought the injury on himself through his own stupidity. “There will be no arrival unless your father releases Richard,” he replied. “So you’ll only help yourself by cooperating. Where do you think we can find the duke? At Bridlewood or at Greystone House in London?”
“He’s not at Bridlewood.”
“So he’s in London. Buying another shipment of rifles to send to Russia, perhaps?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lord Clifton’s voice grew passionate. “My father would never do anything to hurt England.”
“Treason is by its very nature injurious. But he will pay the price. You see, I’m a bit of a patriot at heart.”
“My father is a powerful man with friends in very high places. You can do nothing to hurt him.”
Nathaniel gave a sardonic laugh. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
* * *
When the Vengeance finally arrived in Bristol, Alexandra was eager to stretch her legs on land and to eat some decent food. And she couldn’t wait to wear something more attractive than the baggy men’s garb she’d had on since the storm. She decided to visit a bakery on her way to buy fabric—and then she frowned. A dress was no small expense. She certainly hadn’t anticipated such a need when she planned to strike out on her own from Madame Fobart’s.
She quickly plaited her hair into one long braid that fell down her back, and cinched up Nathaniel’s belt for what she hoped was the last time. She was just about to head up on deck when Nathaniel entered the cabin.
“I’m ready,” she announced, overcompensating for the twinge of shyness that the memory of their time together in his bed, though completely innocent, evoked. In a way, his kindness had forged a bond between them as strong or stronger than if they had become physically intimate, and she no longer knew how to treat the pirate captain. “I can already taste a fresh bun. And oh, for some butter and clear water—”
Nathaniel scowled. “How soon are you expecting such fare?”
“As soon as possible.” She smiled at him. “Can I take the first lighter to the dock?”
Shrugging out of a damp coat, he threw back the lid to his sea chest and withdrew a fresh one. “I’m afraid not. You’ll need to stay here with Trenton.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “But why?”
“I have to take care of some things.”
“Which has nothing to do with me. I’m not your prisoner anymore. You’ve said so yourself, remember? You said you were going to release me.”
“I didn’t say when.”
Despite his answer, Alexandra had to struggle to keep her gaze from drifting over the cotton shirt that stretched taut as he moved. How well she remembered the feel of his muscles moving beneath her hands when he held her earlier.
“You’re just being difficult,” she said. “Surely there is some way to convince you...” She stepped closer and offered him a sultry smile. She felt a little deprived that he hadn’t tried to kiss her while she was in his bed. He had never been indifferent to her before. Had his interest waned while her desire for him only grew stronger?
He cocked a dark eyebrow at her and dropped the coat on the bed. “That depends on what you’re offering.”
Alexandra felt her pulse quicken. She’d caught his attention all right, but wasn’t it foolish to tempt fate? “What is it you want?”
His gaze roved over her, leaving little doubt as to his answer, but at last his eyes focused on her lips. “I’ll settle for a kiss.”
“For a kiss you’ll take me to shore?” she asked, his ready acceptance of her offer making her suspicious.
“Not such a hard bargain, eh?” He spread out his arm, the planes of his face softening with a smile. “I’m waiting.”
Alexandra twisted her hands, suddenly wishing she hadn’t started this bold little game. “Could you at least close your eyes and pucker up or something?”
He laughed softly and closed his eyes. “Your wish is my command.”
Butterflies fluttered in Alexandra’s stomach as she gazed at his handsome face. He had the look of a rogue, with his long hair falling from the thong in back and a small scar near the cleft in his chin. And he could play the role of a rogue better than any man she had ever met, which only made her more nervous. “This is ridiculous—”
“Don’t you want that bun you mentioned?” The corner of his mouth quirked up, but his eyes remained shut. “And some clear water?”
“Fine. Just kiss me,” she said, stepping closer.
“No, you set the price yourself. You’re going to do the kissing.”
Alexandra took a deep breath. It was only a kiss. How difficult could it be? Placing her hands on his chest, she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. Planning to deliver a quick, pristine peck, just enough to satisfy her end of the bargain, she gasped when his arm pulled her roughly against his hard frame.
He parted her lips with his tongue, kissing her thoroughly, until her lips burned from the warmth and the movement, then set her away from him. “That’s one of the better bargains I’ve made,” he said, looking as though he’d kiss her again if she so much as leaned toward him. “Consider me convinced—”
“Wonderful!”
“—to take you to town in the morning.”
“In the morning?” Alexandra’s mouth gaped open as his words sank in. He didn’t plan to take her ashore now any more than he had when he’d told her no in the first place. “You deceived me,” she accused.
He winked. “Aye, and it was well worth the damage to my character.” Smiling as smugly as the cat who swallowed the canary, he turned to rummage through his desk and retrieved a roll of bills from a drawer where they’d been cast inside as carelessly as trash. “This is a quick stop,” he explained, counting the money. “I can’t afford any complications.”
Alexandra�
�s hands clenched into fists. Truth be told, she had enjoyed the kiss as much as Nathaniel, but a bargain was a bargain, and getting cheated did not sit well with her. Especially when it meant another night of drinking slimy, brackish water. “Do you think I would turn you in?”
He pulled on his fresh coat and shoved the money into his pocket. “How do I know what you might try in some misguided attempt to help the marquess? You nearly got us all killed with that schooner. My father is a very powerful man. In most regards, he owns this town, and I’ve done little to endear myself to you.” He grinned. “One kiss hardly guarantees your loyalty. But I’m willing to let you try again, if you think you can convince me otherwise.” He closed his eyes and puckered up.
Ignoring the mocking gesture, Alexandra crossed her arms over her chest. “I want to get off this boat,” she said. “And only if you refuse me will you have reason to worry.”
He opened his eyes to consider her threat, then infuriated her further by giving her a careless shrug. “I’m capable of providing my own insurance, thank you.” He dipped his head in parting.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” she asked, her voice rising with her temper. “Are you doing something with Lord Clifton I might not agree with?”
Nathaniel paused at the door. “I’m taking him to London with us. We’ll go by carriage while Trenton gets the Vengeance ready to sail again. So now you know. Are you satisfied?”
“No, what are you going to do with him in London?”
“Eat him for supper—right after I finish with you.” Laughing, he walked out.
“I hope you get caught,” Alexandra shouted after him, but the closing of the door was her only response.
By midnight the guns were safely deposited in a warehouse not too far from shore. Nathaniel thought it a perfect location, given the constraints of time.
After Tiny and the rest of the small party he had brought from the ship had left, he sat on the last of the crates, exhausted, thinking about Alexandra. The vision of her face made him long to return to his cabin and kiss away her anger, to take her to his bed and become one with her before he lost her forever. Part of him argued that a single night wouldn’t matter. But deep down he knew if he went that far, he would never be able to let her go. He was already feeling protective and too possessive for his own good.
