Page 57 of The Pirate Takes A Bride

The thought depressed him, and for the first time he considered that perhaps Yussef wasn’t worth it. But even as he had the thought, he saw Ralph’s face in his mind. He heard Ralph’s laugher and the gurgle of his labored breathing as he struggled to take in air those last few minutes of his life.

Nick had held his friend as he’d died, and no one could tell him that avenging Ralph’s life was not worthwhile, was not warranted. For so long Nick had thought only of revenge and retribution. He’d played the prodigal son at home—the marquess’s second son—the one of whom nothing was expected. But behind his charming smile, behind his jovial words and studied nonchalance, was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and would allow nothing to stand in his way.

Not Rissa. Not Ashley. Nothing.

He stared at the gray horizon, admiring the way the rising sun turned the water from black to indigo to the brightest blue. The sun flashed on the water, and the call from the foremast came even as Nick set Rissa down.

“Sail, ho!”

“I see it,” Nick said as he rushed to the bow and snatched the spyglass from Chante. “Two points off larboard bow.” He put the glass to his eye and swung it over the empty sea. It was there...the ship was there...

The telltale shape rose up from the water, and Nick muttered, “There’s the bastard.”

“Is it Yussef?” Chante asked.

“Too far to judge,” Nick answered, but his heart had already answered. His blood pumped furiously in his veins as he stared at the unidentified vessel. “Tell Mr. Daniels to stay on him. I want topmastmen to watch that ship like the eagle watches the field mouse. If that’s him, we will have him by day’s end.”

“You want me to issue the command to beat to quarters?”

“Not yet,” Nick answered, finally lowering the spyglass and pressing it into Chante’s hand. “But I want you, Red, Mr. Carey, and Shanks in my wardroom immediately. We have strategy to discuss.”

His long legs ate the distance from the bow to his cabin. When he entered, Ashley was still asleep in his bed. He had a moment’s regret that he would wake her when she looked so beautiful with her blond hair spilling over the side of the berth, her pale shoulder visible above the sheet. But there was nothing for it.

“Get up and dress,” he commanded, closing the door behind him. “You have three minutes before this room is invaded with my officers.”

“Go away,” she moaned and pulled the blanket over her head.

“Two minutes until I open this wall, and your bedroom becomes my wardroom.”

She sat, the blanket falling to her waist. Nick clenched a hand on the chair beside which he stood to stop himself from crossing to her. This was no time for lust, but the sight of those creamy, round breasts and the pink nipples made his mouth go dry. He could feel her soft, velvet skin in his hands. “What’s happened?” she asked. She pushed the hair out of her eyes, and Nick could not help admiring the perfect curve of her breast as it tilted upward.

“We spotted a ship.”

“Yussef?”

“The identity isn’t confirmed.”

She studied his face, her sea green eyes, so like the color of the ocean when the sun first hit it, intent upon him. “But you know, don’t you? You know it’s him.”

A knock on the door made her jump. Nick turned. “Hold.” He looked back at her, but she was already out of bed and dressing. A pity, that. He prayed this was not the last time he would see her naked, her heart-shaped arse in the air as she bent to retrieve her skirt. She dressed quickly, and in another moment, he had the door open. He and Chante opened the panels comprising one wall of the great cabin, transforming it into a wardroom. Nick yanked a large table into the center of the expanded room and slapped maps, charts, a sexton, and a bottle of rum in the center of the table.

“Isn’t it a little early for spirits?” Ashley asked drily.

Chante laughed. “It never be too early.” It was the last time they laughed for the next hour. Nick led the discussion of strategies and tactics, listening to each of his most trusted men, in turn. Ashley had stayed in the cabin, not interrupting, a silent but palpable presence in the room.

Finally, Nick could take no more. He slapped a hand down on the table. “The facts are if the ship is The Snake, he’ll be faster than we are. The ship Mr. Chante and I spotted was a sloop.” He looked to Chante, who nodded. “He’s light and fast. He’s not as well-armed as we are. Probably twelve guns. We have him there.”

“Our cannons won’t do us any good if we can’t catch him,” Shanks said, swallowing a measure of rum.

“You leave that to me,” Nick said. “We have the wind gage. I can catch him. And when I do, I want you to hold your fire until we’re broadside. Then open up with everything you have. I want to pepper him with more holes than a convict’s alibi and turn his hull into toothpicks.”

“Aye, Captain!” Shanks said with a salute. “We’ll send him to the bottom.”

“No,” Chante said with a shake of his head. His earrings jingled from the quick movement. “We take his ship as a prize.” He turned to Nick. “Yussef is yours, but you made me a promise.”

“So I did,” Nick said, putting his hand on Chante’s broad shoulder. “A ship of your own or the means to buy one. The Snake is yours.”

“Before you count all of your chickens,” Ashley said from her perch near the windows, “has anyone considered what damage we might suffer? He will fire back, after all. Twelve cannons are nothing to laugh at.”

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