Page 42 of The Pirate Takes A Bride

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to keep wondering, but then she thought the truth might torture him even more. “Not a thing,” she whispered. “I can feel the material against my breasts, rubbing against my nipples.”

His eyes were dark, and she heard him take a slow breath. She thought he might gather her in his arms then, carry her to his tent. She wanted him to. She wanted him to take her so she did not have to think about what she was doing or with whom. But he did not reach for her, and after a moment’s silence, he said, “Be careful with my daughter, Ashley. She has already lost one mother. If you hurt her, you will be sorry.”

She watched in mute shock as he walked away.

NICK WAS GLAD FOR THE distraction of work the next morning. His cock had been hard most of the night after Ashley’s revelation. Even after he’d made use of his own hand, just the thought of her whispered words—I can feel the material against my breasts, rubbing against my nipples—could make him hard again.

But this morning he had a ship to careen, and that would take all of his concentration. Chante would sail her into the high tide, hove her over, and when the tide went out, repairs could begin. He would have no time to fantasize about Ashley. And no time to spend with Rissa. It was good that the two of them had each other, even if the idea of the two of them plotting something together made his blood run cold. They could not find much trouble on the island. Could they?

Leave it to his daughter to bond with the one person on the island just as mischievous as she. It had shocked him to see the two of them together. Rissa had looked thrilled to have a new friend, and Ashley had looked as though she had suffered a knock to the head. Rissa could have that effect on people. She’d lead poor Ashley around like she would a puppy. Ashley looked as though she didn’t quite know what to say or do with the little girl. She had not exaggerated when she said she had no experience with children. Still, it warmed his heart to see her with his daughter. When he’d parted Ashley’s tent and seen the two of them snuggled together, his breath had all but whooshed from his body.

He did not want to dwell on the emotion he’d felt then. He did not have time for such emotions. He had a mission, a man to kill.

But as Nick directed the careening and the subsequent repairs to the Robin Hood’s hull, thoughts of Ashley assailed him. What had possessed her to participate in the men’s spitting contest? He had found it disgusting, and at the same time, he’d been more attracted to her than ever before. She had so much spirit, so much life. Nothing cowed her. She’d need all of that strength and more if she were to survive the rumors and scandal when they returned to England.

After this, Nick had no illusions that he could keep who he was or where they had been a secret. He only hoped he could protect Ashley when the time came. He hoped he survived that long.

Chapter Twelve

“He’s going to leave us, you know,” Rissa said, as she and Ashley sat in the shade and watched the men make the last repairs to the ship, which had been careened in the shallow water near the beach. The ship had seemed so small when she had resided on it, but now as it lay on its side, its great hull rising like a mountain from the flat beach, it seemed enormous. The sand was warm on her bare feet, and the ocean breeze ruffled her hair. The men had worked for two days, and Nick said it would take another day or two for a big enough tide to relaunch the ship and then the vessel had to be loaded and made ready to sail. She had three, four days at most, left with him.

Ashley had taken some of the material in the trunks the men had brought ashore and was remaking a gown so it would fit the child. Nick had brought her one or two gowns, but what the girl really needed was a pair of trousers and a long shirt. That was the sort of garment suited to life on the island, where the girl climbed trees to pluck a brown fruit Ashley did not recognize, fished in the pond, and ran to and fro like an excited puppy.

When the men were not about, Ashley herself tied up her skirts to keep them out of the way, but she was careful not to allow too much of her leg to show. Now Ashley set down her sewing—she had never done so much sewing before setting foot on Nick’s ship—and looked at the girl. “He’s intent upon finding Yussef and ki—punishing him for what he did here.” She was careful not to mention death or killing around the girl. She was afraid the memory of her mother’s death was too fresh.

Rissa sighed, her slight shoulders rising and falling. “I wish he would stay. He promised me he would take me to England.”

Ashley opened her mouth to say, and he will, but it was a lie. She could not be certain Nick would ever return, much less carry out his promise. One thing she’d always hated as a child was when adults tried to placate her with simplistic answers to her questions. “I wish he would give up his mission, too, but he’s a man, and men have pride. He feels he has to do this.” Ashley looked back at her sewing. She was actually making some progress. The skirt was looking more and more like loose trousers. Her mother would be so proud—well, proud that Ashley had retained so much of her teaching, not that Ashley was making a little girl trousers.

“The other mothers on the island always said that we were first in Papa’s heart but not in his mind.”

Ashley laughed. “That’s probably a good way to think of it. I have five brothers, and I promise you that men are often very selfish creatures.”

“I don’t want to be left here again,” Rissa said, her tone whiny. Ashley didn’t respond, didn’t want to encourage more whining. But the statement had lit the candle of a thought in her mind. She did not want to be left here either. Perhaps she did not need to stay behind. Perhaps she could find a way to make sure when the ship sailed, she was on it. Once they were away, it would be too late for Nick to take her back.

Ashley raised her gaze to the ship again and found Mr. Chante standing beside Nick. The quartermaster was keeping a close watch on everything and everyone. He would be the one she would have to worry about.

But she had time to plan, time to think. And thinking of a way to stowaway was better than thinking about the feel of Nick’s lips on her mouth, his hands on her body. After they’d parted the night before, she’d lain awake and could not help but hear the grunts and moans of the men and women coupling in nearby tents. Why did the man have to wake her? She hadn’t even been aware of it before, and now she could not fall asleep for listening, imagining it was her and Nick.

Even hours later, in full daylight, she still found her body tingling and her gaze drawn to him. He stood on the beach, legs apart as though he was on the deck of his vessel. His hands were planted on his slim hips, cased in tight buckskin that showed his muscled thighs to advantage. He wore no coat, and she would have thought his shoulders might look smaller in the white linen, but they were broad and straight as ever. His dark hair looked almost black in the sheen of the sunlight, and his skin had turned an even richer bronze in just the little time they’d been on shore.

She herself had been careful to stay in the shade or wear the hat she’d borrowed from Nick. Even so, the tip of her nose was pink, and she had a sprinkling of freckles on what had once been perfect alabaster skin. While the sun only enhanced Nick’s beauty, it would turn her red and cause her to peel. Life was certainly unfair.

By dinner, Ashley had finished the modifications for Rissa’s clothing, and the girl wore her new trousers with pride. Nick had complimented the girl on her clothing and nodded his thanks to Ashley, but he had made no move to join her for dinner. Instead, he’d chosen another fire at which to eat, and Rissa had sat with him. Ashley sat with several of the village women and a group of sailors from the Robin Hood, but she’d kept an eye on Rissa, worried the girl would move too close to the fire again. When Chante came around with the rum, pouring each man his allotment, Ashley almost refused. And then she decided, why not? She had not repaired the ship, but over the past few days, she’d helped make dinner, sewn not only Rissa’s clothing but mended some of the sailor’s clothing as well, and she’d fished with the other women in an effort to catch dinner. She hadn’t caught anything, but she had made an effort.

And so, she held out her cup for rum and ignored Chante’s raised brows as he filled it. She ignored them again when she asked for an additional portion. After the first cup, she felt warm and confident. She hadn’t drunk her portion on other nights. What was the harm in drinking it now?

She hadn’t been listening to the sailor’s discussion, but the word bank caught her attention. She blinked and focused on Shanks, who shook his head. “You ask me, yer blunt is safer in a bank. I got me a pretty penny over on Threadneedle Street. When we get back, I’ll take it out and buy me the finest suit you ever did see. I’ll look as fine as the captain, I will.”

Ashley couldn’t stop herself from interrupting. “And does the captain keep his blunt in a bank as well?” The thought of the money Nick made from piracy sitting in the Bank of England made her smile.

But Shanks shook his head. “The captain don’t keep his share of the booty. He gives it away. That’s why we call him Captain Robin Hood.”

Ashley frowned. “I thought it was because the ship was named the Robin Hood.”

Shanks shrugged. “Ship were named after the captain, lass.”

One of the men began to discuss the merits of gems versus coin, but Ashley heard nothing but the waves crashing on the shore. When Nick had told her he sold the items he stole from other ships and gave the profits to the poor and needy, she had thought he was making a poor attempt at sarcasm. But he’d spoken the truth.

---