Page 38 of The Pirate Takes A Bride

She blinked at him, giving him her best you-are-beneath-me look. “I do not swoon. The heat of the day overcame me. That is all.”

“The heat? That one thing to call it. Come on, Mrs. Cap’n. Cap’n said you could come on the next boat.”

She stepped back. Dam-drat! She had insisted on going ashore, hadn’t she? Now she wanted to stay on the ship for as long as possible. Perhaps she need not leave the ship at all. It felt quite a bit larger now than it had yesterday. “I...Already?” she began, her mind working furiously to form an excuse.

“Don’t tell me you afraid to go. You afraid of a little girl?”

“Afraid?” Do not let him bother you, she told herself. Do not listen! But she couldn’t help it. No one called her a coward. “I assure you it takes more than the likes of a little girl or even a man like you to scare me.” That was true. She’d faced down the worst gossips in the ton. This little girl was nothing compared to the old dowagers and their sharp, bloody claws. Yet even as Chante escorted her to the ladder above the rowboat being prepared to go ashore, she had the overwhelming urge to run back to Nick’s cabin and pretend none of this had happened.

Instead, she climbed down the rope ladder. It swayed and she had not realized quite how much ship there was between the water and the deck. Her arms and legs were shaking when the men on the rowboat caught her and helped her to find a seat. She didn’t even care that they’d been a little over familiar in the way they’d grasped her about the waist. She sat on the small boat, trying to keep her spine straight, and watched as the shore and Nick with his daughter became inextricably closer.

NICK SET THE WRIGGLING Rissa down and watched as she scampered off to play with a crab one of the other children had found. He waded into the surf and lifted Ashley off the boat. As soon as he touched her, she stiffened.

“I can explain,” he said.

“Oh, really?” She pushed him away and insisted on walking ashore herself, though the water must have dragged her heavy skirts down. “You have a wife and a child. How do you explain that?”

“Rissa’s mother is dead.”

Her expression immediately softened, and the thin line of her mouth relaxed. “Nick, I’m sorry.”

“If you’ll just allow me to explain—”

“Cap’n?” Chante called. “Where you want these casks of water?”

He looked at Chante then back at Ashley, who surprised him by putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk later. Right now, tell me how I can help.”

Hours later a makeshift camp had been established on the beach, campfires blazed, and the men of the Robin Hood dozed. A hunting party had taken down several birds, and the men had eaten well. Nick had given every man a ration of rum, and he felt pleasantly warm from the portion he’d drunk. He’d spoken with Red at some length, comforting his bos’n and, in turn, the other men who’d lost wives and lovers. Words were not enough, but they were all he had at the moment. Words and promises of vengeance.

Chante and a small group of sailors had returned to the ship, keeping watch from the topmasts should there be trouble. Tomorrow the ship would be careened and repairs begun. It would take several days to complete the repairs, and Nick had needed the rum in order to find the patience to wait. How he wanted to find Yussef now and wrap his hands about the pirate’s neck.

In his arms, Rissa stirred and snuggled closer to him. She was sleeping, her face so innocent and sweet in her slumber. He prayed she slept well and did not dream of the attack that had taken so many of her makeshift family. He looked about, wondering where he should put her for the night, and one of the village women came forward and nodded to her and then to a small tent where her two children slept. The girl and boy were Rissa’s playmates, and Nick smiled as he handed his daughter to the woman. Though he might have liked to keep her close, he was not yet ready to retire, and he did not want her to wake alone if nightmares should trouble her.

As the warmth from Rissa’s small body faded, he glanced about the various campfires. He’d seen Ashley sitting at one with Mr. Fellowes earlier. She’d been sipping rum and making a face at her cup. Now he did not see her. Had she found a place to sleep, or had he overlooked her? He stood, brushed his trousers off, and began to move toward the nearest fire. Before he took more than two or three steps, his neck prickled, and he turned. She stood in the tree line, her back straight, her long silvery hair a beacon even in the dark.

When he reached her, she moved toward the beach and the lapping waves. “Shall we walk a little way?”

He nodded his agreement and for a time they followed the shoreline, the moon lighting their way and the sounds of the crew’s voices fading gradually. Finally, when they were far enough away so as not to be overheard, she stopped. “You never told me you were married or that you had a child.” Her hands went to her hips. “Those facts seem like more than minor points of interest.”

“You’re right,” he said, and her face showed surprise at his easy capitulation. “I did not think of it. My mind was otherwise occupied.”

“With contemplating how you might lure me into your bed? Even though you already had a wife waiting for you?”

“With punishing the bastard who did this to my island and my villagers. They looked to me for protection, and I failed them.” Now the extent of that failure was glaringly clear.

“I’m sorry your wife is dead,” she said, her voice somewhat softer. “I can see how much you love the little girl. You must have loved the mother.”

Nick sighed. He did not want to have this conversation now. He did not want to allow the pain to gain a foothold by acknowledging what he had lost. But Ashley deserved answers, and he could not make her wait for them. “Zorah was not my wife. I’ve never been married.” He glanced at her. “Before.”

Ashley blinked at him, the enormity of what he was saying becoming clear. “But the child—”

“Yes, she is mine.” He shook his head. “For a woman who claims to want nothing to do with Society’s rules, you tend to appear rather shocked when someone breaks them.”

She said nothing, and he could not read her expression. Whatever her thoughts, she kept them close. He would say this now, tell her all, and think of it no more afterward. Not until the pain had lessened. Not until Yussef was dead. “Zorah had been part of a sultan’s harem. I never knew his name. I only know she escaped him and feared for her life. Perhaps she killed him, or she feared he might try and take her back. I met her in Morocco, and she begged me to take her far away. I agreed.”

“You saved her.”

“Difficult to imagine me as a hero, isn’t it?” He gave her a rueful smile. “Don’t worry. You needn’t begin to form a good opinion of me. She had money to pay for passage, so my act was not completely selfless. I took her here,” he said, gesturing to the branches of the palms blowing in the gentle breeze. “In time we became lovers. By the time Rissa was born, our passion had been spent. I never loved her nor do I think she loved me, but we did love our daughter. Zorah died three years ago of illness, so Yussef is not responsible for her demise. Censure me if you will, but I would change nothing, do nothing differently. I regret nothing that led to my daughter.”

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