However, he still expects an answer, so I make a decision to tell the almost whole truth. Is it a lie if I leave stuff out? Does it matter?
“She’s clearly important to you,” I tell him, throwing my glance over in his direction. “That makes her important to me, and I want to make a good impression.”
Matt seems surprised by my honesty, but accepts it. I don’t tell him that if Sarah doesn’t approve of me, she can kick me out of her brothel at anytime, whether Matt insists on keeping me with him or not. I’m just a woman, one of many Sarah’s heard about or met. I’ll be one face among many. She probably won’t take me seriously, if she bothers with me at all, and suddenly I’m annoyed at Matt’s reputation, at how many girls and women have come before me to the point where his sister won’t even give me the time of day because I’m just another floozy, sleeping with her brother, up until he finds the next one.
Which I’m not.
But she doesn’t know that. And because of Matt’s reputation, she won’t believe Matt when he tells her that I’m different, I’m special, I’m more than the ones who came before.
“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he says, his eyes teasing but his words sincere.
I feel myself blush at his words and his tone of voice and the way he’s looking at me – God, the way he looks at me kills me inside because it sets every piece of me, every fragment, on fire – so I force my eyes away from him and clear my throat. For some reason, I find myself unable to speak properly when he looks at me.
“Will you tell me about her?” I ask, because I need to change the subject, but not in an obvious way. Plus, I am interested in Sarah, in who she is as a person. From the little he has already shared, she’s someone I know I could bond with because she’s kickass, but bonding doesn’t take place unless I can offer something in return. And truth be told, I don’t think I’m as badass as she is, so I need to figure out what I can offer so I don’t look like an idiot in front of her.
"There's really not much I can say," he says, "but I can tell you she's my older sister by two years and she's the most important thing to me in this world. More important than my ship. More important than the sea. More important than being a pirate." He grins, as though he's remembering something and shakes his head before returning his eyes to mine. "Words won't do my sister justice. You'll have to meet her and make your own judgment."
I press my lips together and nod. Without warning, his hand cups my cheek and his thumb lightly treads on my bruise. He's done this before already, in the morning, when he helped me get dressed. I'm not sure what to make of the fact that he's doing it again, but I like when he touches me so I do t think too hard on the subject.
"It's getting better," he says.
I can't help but roll my eyes. "You checked it a few hours ago," I tell him.
"Yes, but I have an eye for this sort of thing," he says. He uses his fingers to tilt my chin up so he can get a better look at my throat, and I swallow. His eyes immediately home in on the gesture and I curse myself because it's such a tell and it's so obvious that I want to scream. "You will never ever be harmed again, as long as you are under my protection."
I moisten my lips, and his eyes are drawn to that as well. They remain there, on my lips, and I'm not sure whether he intends to or not, but he moves closer to me so our clothes are touching.
"You already said that," I say in a whisper. I don't know why I'm whispering, but I am, and I hope that I brushed my teeth well enough to the point where I don't have bad breath. Matt is so close to me, he'd be able to smell it, and it would be so embarrassing if I do.
He doesn't move. Even though he's so close to me, he doesn't move away from me or my personal space. And honestly, I don't want him to. I like how close he is to me. I like the way it makes me feel, like it's only the two of us in the whole world and I'm important enough for him to be this close to me and he's here because he wants to be, not because he feels obligated to or because he thinks he's going to get laid. He's here because he wants it.
"It bears repeating," he says.
His fingers from his free hand dance across my throat and I squeak because how can something hurt and heal simultaneously? My eyes close and I swallow, and I know he sees everything and he feels everything, but I can't control the way my body reacts to him if I wanted to. This is his fault. It's all his fault.
"Perhaps," I force myself to say, placing my eyes in his, "you should teach me how to defend myself. Then you won't have to worry about me."
"What if I like to worry about you?" he asks.
Before I can answer the question - I have no idea what to say in response so it's probably a good thing we’re interrupted - a pounding on the door interrupts our conversation and someone shouts, "We've got to get a move on if we're going to rescue Sarah."
Matt nods, his eyes never leaving mine, even though the knocker can't see him through the wooden door. "Let's run through the plan again," he says.
"I will be transported with Malachite to the docks and give the name Rhonda Homing," I recite. "I'm a woman of good fortune set to meet a man from the governor's employ - a man named Peter Folly. Folly will lead me to the spectator entrance only the governor has access to where I will watch the hanging. I'll make conversation and get overwhelmed by it all. Once I see Perryweather's bird, I am to pretend to faint, drawing attention to me rather than the hanging. From there, Folly will claim to get me medical assistance but he'll lead me to the servant's quarters, where he'll give me clothes to change into and then lead me back to the docks where Malachite will be waiting to take me back to the ship." I scrunch up my face, going over everything in my head. "Am I missing anything?"
The corner of Matt's lip curled up. "No," he replies. "I think you have everything." He pauses and places both hands on my shoulders, all but forcing me to focus on him. "Isla, you don't have to do" -
"I'm going to," I say, interrupting him. "I want to. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
"I don't doubt it," he says with a grin.
He allows his hands to linger on my skin, keeping me close, keeping me within his grasp. His eyes trail over my hair, my dress, my face. I don't feel like myself right now. I'm not sure I can get used to the time and effort it requires a lady to look presentable here. But the way he's looking at me makes me want to do it every day if I have to, as long as he continues to look at me that way.
"Isla," he says and just his tone causes my insides to heat up. I look at him curiously, tilting my head to the side, and this turns out to be a bad idea because I see him from a different perspective and he's just as shockingly handsome as he was before. I'm also going to ignore the way he says my name because then, it's just too much.
"If," he begins to say but stops.
He doesn't have to say anything else. His eyes say enough. I can read them so easily, my intuition knowing the meaning behind the gold and brown irises. He wants to tell me that I don't have to go through with it, that I can stay on the ship and be safe and wait. But he stops himself because he knows me. He knows I don't care one way or the other about my safety because I'm stubborn in my willingness to help. The crazy part is, he knows this about me and that's why he stopped himself. He knows I'm stubborn and ruthless and incessant and won't listen to him, and somehow, he accepts it. He doesn't argue with me and lecture me about what I should and shouldn't do. He doesn't give me some spiel about how his experience makes him right and he has authority over me to dictate what I do and why. He lets me make my own choice. He won't try and stop me.
My heart absorbs this and throbs and spreads warmth through my body and I realize that there's a good possibility I can fall in love with Matt even though it's only been a few days. I've never been respected that way before, especially by a man, but also in general. I don't even think I respect myself that much. Because with that respect comes trust and I don't trust myself sometimes. But the way Matt is looking at me right now, he trusts me implicitly. He trusts me with his sister's l
ife. Matt astounds me and makes me believe in myself. I have no idea what to say.
So I nod, hoping he'll understand me the way I understand him. Hoping he'll be able to detect how much it means to me that he stopped himself, that he trusts me and respects me and cares about me. Hoping he knows I know he believes in me and has faith in me and that I feel the same way about him.
He presses his lips together. There's something missing, something more that should pass between us but we remain silent. The moment is suffocating and loud but not in an overwhelming way. If I close my eyes, I know I'd be able to hear the ocean. There's something significant happening and I can't say what it is. I can't even give myself time to think about it because I need to focus. I won't let Matt down. I won't let this crew down. I won't let Sarah down. And I won't let myself down. I've been given this opportunity to prove myself and I refuse to waste it.
Finally, he nods. We're ready. It's time.
Chapter 8
Sarah doesn’t trust me. That much is clear. It’s okay, to be honest, because I probably wouldn’t trust me either. This woman crashes into her brother’s life, and he gives her a bed, shelter, food, and safe passage with nothing much in return? Yeah, I’d be suspicious. Especially since Matt claims we’re not sleeping together, something he had to tell her at least five times. From that point on, Sarah looks at me with suspicious dark eyes and doesn’t say anything to me at all. Everything she says that’s meant for me is directed to Matt, and I keep my mouth closed because I don’t want to offend anyone. I know I’m a guest, and Sarah is the most important person to Matt. I don’t want to get between them. Instead, I hang in my room and let the two of them catch up.
--
“Is there a reason you’re being such a bitch, Sarah?” Matt asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew Sarah had always been guarded with new people, but if he trusted Isla, then Sarah should trust him enough to trust his judgment. This was his ship after all, and Isla had helped rescue her.
Sarah gave him a look, one of her exhausted-don’t-bother-me-with-this-nonsense looks that Matt had been familiar with for the majority of his life. “Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes – their mother’s eyes, the same eyes he had – and turned back to the temporary bed Matt set up for her in what was supposed to be a storage room.
“Don’t, oh, please me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, and looking down at his sister with narrowed eyes. “She’s not from this world, Sarah. She needs help – my help. They would eat her alive. Someone almost tried a few nights back, during our planning of rescuing you.”
For a brief moment, Sarah looked sorry. A touch of compassion flashed across her face at the thought of a woman being attacked simply because she was a woman, but it instantly disappeared. “I am sorry about that,” she told him. She was adding a quilt to her bed by herself; doing menial chores helped keep her mind sharp, and Matt knew better than to offer her assistance. “Truly, I am, but you can’t expect me to immediately trust her just because you do. You forget, I work with women and train them to manipulate men out of their money and whatever valuable trinkets that may be on their person. How do you know she’s not lying to you?”
“Because she’s a terrible liar,” Matt said, circling to the other side of the bed. “Because I know her. Maybe not for a long time, but I know her. I’m a pirate, Sarah. Our life expectancy is maybe a year, two tops. I’ve been around for ten years, and a lot of it has to do with ability to read people. She tries to hide herself behind this façade of not caring, but she’s so easy to read, it’s laughable.”
“So you’re helping her because she’s a joke?” Sarah asked, and it almost sounded as though Sarah were offended on behalf of Isla. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side, looking at Matt with narrowed brown eyes.
Matt gave her a look he knew she hated because he hated the look she gave him. He hated that look on her face.
“What do you want me to say, Mattie?” she asked, now throwing her arms out. “This is some girl you say is trustworthy, the first girl you’ve ever had me meet” –
“Exactly!” Matt insisted. He felt himself get riled up – Sarah had this way of riling him up despite his patience, despite his cool demeanor – and he tried to tense his muscles to pull back, hoping she didn’t see how emotive he was getting. She would manipulate the situation, taking his reactions and using it against him. She was the reason why he was forced to develop his cool demeanor in the first place. Suddenly, his ears pricked when he realized what she said, what she called him, and he felt years of his youth rush into his ears and the strings in his body were pulled. “Wait, did you call me Mattie? I’m not a boy anymore, Sarah. You may address me as Matt or Matthew or Captain or” –
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You will always be my little brother,” she said.
“And I would prefer if you didn’t interrupt me when I am speaking,” Matt said, and he could feel himself getting a tone – a tone only Sarah was able to elicit out of him. “You are not my mother. You are not in charge of me. I am in charge of myself. You do not get to make my decisions. You don’t even get to have a say in my decisions, but I get your opinion because I respect you. I rescued you. She rescued you, too. She played a pivotal role in your rescue, or do you so easily forget?”
Sarah clenched her jaw, and Matt internally grinned. Whenever she clenched her jaw, he knew he made a point, and she was unhappy about it. If Sarah was unhappy, it meant that she was wrong. If she was wrong, it meant that Matt was right. She would never admit it out loud, of course – she was more stubborn than anyone he had ever known – but he knew he had achieved a victory, and more importantly, she knew it, too.
“You do!” he exclaimed, jutting his finger in her face. She slapped it away. “Ha!” He dropped his hand, but not the smile on his face.
“What is going on with you, Mattie?” Sarah asked, and he could tell he specifically called him that on purpose. That was fine. She had nothing else, not right now, at least. “Who is this girl? Why is she important to you? The fact that she’s met you is bad enough, but you’re fighting for her, for my approval of her.” She stopped, blinked, and looked at Matt with a new look on his face. “Are you in love with her?”
Matt snorted before he could stop himself. "Love?" he asked, quirking a skeptical brow. "You think I'm in love with her?"
"I don't know," Sarah said in a tone that was part mocking, part sincere. Whenever she spoke in that voice, her voice came out somewhat shrill, as though it was difficult for her to contain her enthusiasm at constantly making points and being right all the time. He wondered if she ever got exhausted and decided she ever might but he knew Sarah would not. "I asked you, didn't I? And since you claim you've never been in love before, how would you know now if you were or you weren't?"
Matt opened his mouth to respond, but paused a moment too long. Sarah jumped at the chance.
"See? See? You don't know. You don't!" She placed her hands on her hips, and it amazed Matt how much taller she seemed even though she only came up to his chin on a good day. "Matt, you've never introduced me to a girl before. You've never not fucked a girl before. And, most tellingly of all, I see the way you look at her. In the minutes that I've seen you interact, I've see the way you look at her."
"Oh, really?" Matt asked, but his mind wasn't working the way he wanted it to. He didn't know what to say except, "And how do I look at her?"
"You look at her the way a man looks at a Caribbean sunrise the first time he witnesses it," she said in a serious voice, and her eyes were both accusing and questioning at the same time.
Matt was not used to Sarah being confused, especially not with him, and he looked away from her eyes, afraid it didn't matter, afraid she noticed too much.
"Who is this girl?" Sarah asked, and her voice was softer, gentle even, like she wanted to help him. The problem was, Matt didn't think he needed help. And if he did, he had no idea how to ask for it or where even to begin. "How do
es she have such a hold on you already?"
Matt had no idea what to say because he had no idea what was going on with him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Sarah was right. Something was going on with him. Something about Isla was causing him to behave in an uncharacteristic type fashion, and he wasn't yet sure if this was a good thing or not.
To be honest, he wasn't even sure how he felt about her, though he could admit that the feelings he had for her were much different from the feelings he'd have for any other woman in his life. It had only been a few days but he still remembered waking up to find her in his bed with nothing but a slip of a dress hiding her body. She was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a long time. In his life. She was spunky, feisty, but he was able to make her blush. To him, that was a victory. The more he got to know her, the more he found he liked being around her. It was more than just her looks - who didn't like to be around a beautiful woman - but her personality. She was strong and she knew it, but he was more interested in the rare moments when she was vulnerable. When she ripped her soul open and stood before him bare, trusting him with her flaws. Trusting him with her.
The Art of Persuasion: Book 4 of The Swashbuckling Romance Series Page 7
