Page 93 of The Pirate Lord
He pounded his fist into the rail. Who was he fooling? She wouldn’t care what happened to Atlantis. She was free of it, and that was all that mattered to her. Everything she’d said about wanting to rebuild it and help it grow had been empty words to distract him from what she was planning. And like a lovesick fool, he’d believed every word!
He started to leave the rail, then caught sight of his own cottage. It was the only unfinished building on the island. Hehadn’t touched it since the day she left. What was the point? Without Sara, there was no reason for him to have a cottage. The only woman he’d ever wanted to marry was her, and now that she was gone . . .
Now that she was gone, it made no difference what his house looked like or when he ate or how many successes Atlantis realized. Nothing mattered.
Confound it, why couldn’t he get the woman out of his head? Everything made him think of her. When he cut a bunch of bananas off the tree, he thought of how much she used to love them. Every time he saw a white embroidered blouse or a red head of hair, his heart leapt. Until he realized it wasn’t her. It would never be her. She was gone, and no matter what she’d said, she wouldn’t be returning. It would be stupid to dream otherwise.
He pulled her locket out of his pocket and stared at it. Why he’d kept it, he didn’t know. He turned it over in his hand, remembering how she used to play with it when she was talking to him, her slender fingers twisting the chain this way and that. He ought to toss the blasted thing into the ocean. It represented the lie that she would return, one of many she’d told to deceive him until rescue arrived.
He dangled it over the rail and looked down at the water, which was deep enough for his purpose. All he had to do was drop it, let it slip from his fingers.
But he couldn’t. Some foolish, sentimental impulse made him shove the locket into his trousers pocket instead, a low curse erupting from his lips.
With a scowl, he strode across the deck and through the entranceway into the saloon, headed for his cabin. Molly and her children still slept there at night, but he used it during the day. And just now, he had a very specific purpose in going there. He wanted his bottle of rum. He didn’t often indulge, but today hewanted to drink himself into oblivion. For once, he wanted not to be plagued by thoughts of Sara.
Throwing open the door, he entered his cabin, only to hear a squeal and see a blond head disappear under the bed covers. “Come out, damn you, whoever you are!” he shouted. “What in blue blazes are you doing in here?” He’d dismissed his cabin boy from his duties the day they’d settled on Atlantis, so it couldn’t be him, and he’d seen Molly talking earnestly to Louisa not long ago, so it couldn’t be her.
It had better not be one of the other women either. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of them just now. So help him, if it was that blasted Queenie, he’d throw her out on her ass.
Then he realized that the shaking lump under the bed covers was decidedly smaller than any of the women. He groaned. Jane, Molly’s five-year-old. It had to be.
He forced some gentleness into his voice. “Jane, is that you, girl? Come out. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”
A blond head emerged slowly from beneath the satin, red eyes and nose first, followed by a pouting mouth. “You yelled at me! You said bad words, and you yelled at me!”
With a sigh, he moved to sit on the bed. “I know, sweetie. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that I’ve been grouchy lately.”
More of her emerged from under the covers. She laid two chubby arms on top and stared at him with solemn eyes. “Because Miss Sara went away, huh?”
He stiffened. “Miss Sara’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Oh. I thought Miss Sara was gonna marry you.”
“Where’s your mother?” he asked, eager to change the subject. He’d come in here to drown out all thoughts of Sara, not be reminded of her by a child. “Why did Molly leave you in here all by herself?”
“She said she had to talk to Miss Louisa. She told me to take a nap.” Again, she pouted. “I don’t like to take naps.”
Suppressing a smile, he ruffled her hair. “Yes, but naps are good for little girls. Why don’t you just lie down, and I’ll leave you alone to sleep. All right?”
She lay back obediently against the pillows, but he could feel her eyes follow him as he rose and walked to the desk. Opening the drawer, he took out the bottle of rum, wishing he had some way to hide it from her sight.
“Is that gin?” she asked in a querulous voice.
“No. Now go to sleep.”
“My papa used to drink gin sometimes when he was sad. Then he would sing funny songs and make me laugh.”
Gideon stared at her. Though Sara had told him some of the women had husbands back in England, he’d never thought much about it. After all, if they’d had decent husbands, they wouldn’t have gotten involved in criminal acts in the first place, would they?
“I miss my papa,” she said with a child’s candor. “I miss him lots.”
He felt a twinge of conscience. “Why didn’t you stay with him in England?”
“He and Mama said I had to go with her. He said the men over the sea wouldn’t bother her none if they saw she had me.” Her eyes lit up. “Papa said he would come be with us soon’s he got the money.” Then her face fell again. “Only . . . only Mama says he can’t come be with us now that we live on the island. Mama says I gots to have a new papa now.”
A bitter lump of guilt caught in his throat. He tried to ignore it. Molly’s husband would most likely never have made it to New South Wales, and she might have been forced to take a new husband there anyway, if only to provide for her children.
But telling himself that didn’t lessen his guilt. Little Jane didn’t understand those nuances, did she? She only knew there’dbeen hope of regaining her father before, and now there was none.
