Page 30 of Escaping Pirates
I smiled. “I think you’re right. Besides, it might attract the wrong crowd to come investigate our festivities.” I wrapped my hand idly around one of the bars between us, wondering if my fingertips would be rust-colored when I pulled them away.
After a moment, Harlan’s hand curled around the bar next to the one I held and our fingertips brushed, then lingered. I fought to keep my face straight, even though my heart had leapt up, my throat tightened, and shockwaves pulsed through my body. A gross overreaction to a simple touch, really. I couldn’t even blame my hunger for it since Harlan was ensuring I was fed, nor could I blame needing the steadiness like I had during the kraken attack.
I couldn’t let this happen. I didn’t want to react that way to Harlan. I couldn’t let anything ruin our alliance. If I acted rashly and Harlan was merely trying to be friendly, I wouldbe no better than Sugar or Blossom, always flinging themselves at him and begging for his affection.
No. I wouldn’t do anything that might risk what we already had, and yet…
He hadn’t pulled away either.
Harlan’s voice became softer. “Strange, isn’t it? How we can hear them all up there”—his gaze flicked upward to where the stomping of boots and a continual stream of cursing flowed—“but it still feels quiet.”
My throat constricted even more. I hadn’t realized I’d blocked out all of the harshly barked orders, the flapping of sails, and the slapping of the sea until Harlan pointed it out. He was right. Down in the dank, mildewy-smelling brig with Harlan, everything felt peaceful and quiet.
We kept our hands where they were—barely touching but even so, I felt the steady warmth of his skin caressing my knuckles. Something fluttered in my chest, something dangerous but fiercely real, and my breathing halted. How I wished I could read his mind and see what thoughts were behind those forest-green eyes.
I shouldn’t say anything. I was already playing with fire, but part of me wanted to know. I wanted it almost as much as I craved my freedom. “If we ever get out of here—” I began, but Harlan interrupted.
“Whenwe get out of here, you mean?” he said. His eyes dropped down to study my mouth but then flicked back up so quickly I could have imagined it. “It isn’t anifquestion.”
“When we get out of here, then,” I corrected. “Do you think we won’t know what to say to each other anymore? Like this…” I was about to let go of the bar to gesture at our cells, but then changed my mind mid-thought so that I gave an odd twitch and head jerk in the vague direction of my cell. As wise as it would be to do so, I didn’t want to stop touching Harlan. “Being here is the only reason we have to talk.”
Most thankfully, Harlan stayed right where he was, not quite holding my hand, but also not moving away.
“No,” he finally answered. “I think we’d still talk. Maybe even more without the rats listening in.” His thumb reached over to stroke the back of my hand. Scorching heat flared up from my chest with such intensity that I wondered if steam would gush out of my ears. I would have no need for Tyrone’s quilt at this rate.
“That’s…that’s good,” I said, stumbling slightly over my words. “The rats seem awfully judgmental about what we say. And when we do get out of here, I promise not to trample any of your flowers. I’ll be careful.” Shoals, I needed to be farmorecareful than what I was currently doing. If I said or did anything that made Harlan uncomfortable, our interactions would become awkward and planning an escape would become even more difficult.
“I promise I’ll be careful,” I repeated quietly, and pulled my hand back from the bar. “And we need to sleep so we’re ready for tomorrow. I think you’re on for foot massages again.”
He slowly dropped his hand as well and reclined onto his bunk. “Stay warm tonight,” he told me. I tugged Tyrone’s quilt up. The pirate might have suspiciously nice manners and remind me of a slippery eel, but his gift had been a good one. Sleep made my eyelids heavy. At least with Harlan there with me, I wouldn’t be alone.
The last thing I heard as I drifted off to sleep was Harlan beginning to cough.
CHAPTER 12
By the time morning arrived, Harlan’s breathing had devolved to a deep, rattling cough, and he shivered constantly despite being hot to the touch. It was the mold and miserable living conditions, I was certain. Something similar had happened to me soon after I’d arrived, but Sugar and Blossom had forced me to continue my work despite my illness making it so I could barely walk. I didn’t remember those days well; my mind either hadn’t been working properly at the time or else was now subconsciously blocking those memories to protect me.
I threw an accusatory glare at the mildewy straw, the rats, and the portholes across the walkway where frigid gusts of air kept swirling in. Even though Harlan had been getting enough to eat, the conditions were unlivable for long. Both of us would develop infections or catch some disease that would cause permanent damage unless treated soon.
“Take the quilt,” I insisted, forcing it through the bars. “You need it.”
Harlan shoved it away. “I d-d-don’t want it,” he stammeredthrough chattering teeth. Goosebumps stood up all over his arms and his entire body trembled. Even if I put the lantern close, it still wouldn’t be nearly enough heat to help him.
“Harlan, please,” I begged, trying again to pass the heavy quilt over, but he kept shaking his head. It was costing him so much of his precious energy to refuse what I was offering. He would get worse if he wasn’t tended to, and soon.
The brig door banged open, and Gavvet came stumping in as usual to take me to help Sugar and Blossom get ready for the day.
“Take the quilt once I’m gone,” I told Harlan in a low, rushed voice.
He adamantly shook his head, and my panic grew. He needed help immediately.
“C’mon, girl,” the pirate said with a grunt. The key screeched in the lock, and there was a grating sound as the door scraped across the floor.
“He’s sick,” I told Gavvet. “Please, is there a medic aboard who can see him?”
“Not my problem,” he said dismissively.
Harlan coughed again and my anxiety increased. He and I were a team. How was I supposed to plan an escape for me and a man who was ill and getting worse by the minute?
