Page 52 of Pirate's Intent
“What if you cannot talk?”
He frowned. “Why would I not be able to talk?”
“Well, I don’t know, maybe—”
Luke put a finger to her mouth, fully aware she rattled on more than usual when she was nervous. “I will knock three times, then pound once. Just stay in here, all right?”
She nodded and murmured against his finger, “All right.”
“Yes?”
She kept nodding. “Yes.”
“Good,” he murmured and did what he had wanted to do since the last time he did it.
He kissed her hard.
This time, however, with less anger and more passion. Which might have been a mistake in retrospect because he would have lost himself had the ship not taken a hard turn.
Robert roared, “’Tis happenin,’ Cap’n.”
“Ballocks,” he muttered, wishing they had more time together. But the guns were lining up, so the seconds were ticking down.
He brushed his lips across hers one more time and strode from the cabin. “Lock it behind me, Hannah!”
Hell if he didn’t wait to hear it click too. If someone wanted to get to her, they would, but at least she would hear them coming.
“Already in position,” Robert said, stating the obvious when Luke took the wheel. “Just waitin’ on yer go ahead, Cap’n.”
He took in their surroundings. The enemy was right where he wanted them, so he roared, “Fire!”
His order was relayed to the gunner below, and the cannons boomed, tilting the ship again. Regrettably, because of the waves and wind, they snapped the enemy’s mizzen mast in half but did not breach the hull. Worse yet, they carried light for added speed and had no more cannons.
“Boom about,” he roared, cutting the wheel back. “Ready yerself to fight! No man left standin’ ye hear? To Davy Jones’ Locker with the lot of ‘em!”
There could be no evidence of them being here.
That meant everyone had to die.
In truth, they were doing the world a service ending this lot, vicious scoundrels all. More than the average pirate. They were also damn good fighters as it turned out. Because of the storm, they could only get so close to the ship, so it was a dangerous battle indeed. Men were swinging on ropes to one another’s ships, battling with swords and whatever else they could find. Pistols were pointless in the driving rain with no opportunity to light the flint.
Luke grabbed a mast, braced himself, and fought those rushing him. He tripped one and drove his sword through the throat of another. When the other rushed him again, slipping and sliding in blood and rain, Luke punched him then drove his dagger up under his ribs into his heart.
He was about to attack a third when he spied one heading for his cabin.
“Over my dead body,” he growled and raced that way. The man had just made it to the door when Luke caught up with him. The miscreant spun and came at him, but it was too late. Luke shoved him against the door and slit his throat.
A split second later, the door swung open, and the man fell dead at Hannah’s feet. Wrapped in nothing but a blanket, she looked positively delicious.
“I told you three knocks and a pound,” he said, exasperated.
“And I told you the last time I left you to your own devices, you nearly got killed.” He was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “Irefuseto let that happen, Luke. Not when—”
“All clear, Cap’n,” Robert hollered in quick time. “We got every last one!”
“Not when, what?” he prompted her, curious, hopeful.
“Bloody hell, she got another, eh?” Robert praised. He joined them and eyed the man on the floor.
