Page 43 of A Pirate's Pleasure

Silence pressed down on me as I ran Lucretius’ words back through my head. He’d spoken like he’d be gone for hours, had expressly said he wouldn’t be back till nightfall. If it was a test, that could be a lie, though. In which case, there wasn’t any time to waste. The priority was getting hold of the key to the manacles. Had he taken it with him, or was there a chance of him having left it behind?

With my hands free and magic restored, I had a chance. I could float, rather than swim, and use the power of the wind to carry me a greater distance. But only without the manacles.

I started my search upstairs, heading for the room I knew Lucretius slept in. I paused with my hand on the door. Would he know I’d been in here? Seconds ticked and turned into minutes as I contemplated the fury I would face if he found out. Shaking my head, I pushed the door open. If I let fear hold me back, I might as well give up now and be the meek captive he wanted me to be. I was Captain Zephyr Chase, the man who other pirates steered clear of. I needed to remember that and act accordingly. I stood and surveyed the room for a few seconds. I didn’t know what I’d expected—some sort of lair maybe, but it was just a normal bedroom. It was almost identical to mine, apart from having more furniture in it and no skulls. How kind of Lucretius to have given them all to me. His generosity knew no bounds.

The curtains were open to let in sunlight, but the bed hadn’t been made. I began there, running my hands over any potential hiding places. Beneath the pillow. Underneath the mattress. Under the bed itself. No key. Nothing. From there, I moved onto the chest of drawers close to the window, being careful to ensure I left no evidence of my search as I ran my fingers through piles of clothes, and checked for false compartments. Same result.

Next, I moved on to two large wooden trunks, neither of them locked. The first held nothing but clothes, the difference and variety in sizing telling me they’d never belonged to Lucretius. I assumed they were from his past lovers, which answered the question how on my second night here he’d been able to produce a whole new wardrobe for me, the harpy bestowing them on me like it was a gift I should forever be grateful for.

As for the second trunk, if I’d found its contents on a ransacked ship, it would have delighted me. Here, though, in Lucretius’ mausoleum of a house, I couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm for what was, to all intents and purposes, a treasure chest, with gold and jewelry glinting in the sunlight. I didn’t want ruby necklaces and golden snuff boxes. All I wanted was a key. And of that, there was no sign, despite me sifting through everything thoroughly, because what better place to hide one could there be than in a trunk packed with items?

The rest of the room garnered the same result. Resisting the urge to slam my fist into the wall, I left, despair already settling in my gut at the realization that it had been the most likely hiding place. Even if common sense did dictate that had Lucretius left it there, he would have locked the door.

Refusing to give in yet, I set about searching the rest of the house. If nothing else, I could find out what lay behind all the closed doors, Lucretius never having bothered to give me a tour. And while he hadn’t said the rooms were out of bounds, neither had any invitation come my way to treat the place like it was my home rather than my prison cell. The answer proved disappointing, most of the furniture covered in dust sheets that spoke of the rooms lying unused for quite some time. One room held a grand piano, my fingers moving idly over the keys, the noise echoing through the otherwise silent house. Did Lucretius play? I guessed he must or he would have covered it like he had the rest of the furniture.

My exploration took me back down the steps to the cell I’d first woken up in. I didn’t step inside, paranoia making me believe that if I did, the door would slam shut behind me and I’d find myself right back where I started, only without Lucretius being willing to let me out. I might be a prisoner, but I’d take being imprisoned on the island over it being in a tiny cell.

The final few rooms whose doors I hadn’t opened, revealed a ballroom—the sight making me laugh when I didn’t imagine that Lucretius would throw many parties, unless it was a party for two—a kitchen that didn’t appear to get much use, I guess you didn’t need to when you could use magic to produce food, and a conservatory complete with leafy plants, the large windows providing a perfect vantage point to see out across the island.

In other circumstances, the house might have impressed me. How did it compare to Lief’s house? Was that as grand? Did it have as many rooms? What was the view like from his windows? Had I taken him up on his offer years ago, I would have known the answers to all those questions. But in the spirit of true stubbornness, I’d refused to even accompany him to see it.

In my mind, from the moment he’d agreed to be Lord Cooper, we’d been done. Because what self-respecting lord would want to have anything to do with a pirate? And while piracy might not have been in my blood, it had hooked its claws into me early in life, and there was nothing else I’d ever wanted to do. My association with Dax had seemed like fate, a way to make the impossible possible, and I hadn’t understood how Lief of all people could ever think I would give it up.

So Lief had left without saying goodbye, and I’d taught myself to hate him, tamping down on any stray urges that with him not being a million miles away, it would have been easy to see him. Why would I want to when I hated him? And now it was too late. I was trapped with Lucretius, and Lief was where? That question plagued me while I lay awake at night, wondering whether tonight would be the night when the harpy made his move.

Was Lief on The Navarino? I trusted Whitby, and a few of the others, but despite handpicking my crew, I had no illusions about the rest. There were slim pickings when it came to pirates. You took what you could get, and you never envisaged a scenario where you left your non-pirate ex-lover behind at the mercy of men who were just as adept at lying as they were at thievery.

Having run out of places to search in the house, I took myself outside, tipping my head back and soaking in the sun’s heat on my face for a few moments. I did a slow circuit of the island, hoping to spot something I might have missed, something that would provide a grain of hope. There was nothing of note, though. Just the flowers and the birds.

I spent a couple of hours out there, lingering long past the point where the sun had dipped below the horizon. My stomach was complaining by the time I returned to the house, but Lucretius hadn’t seen fit to leave any food, the remnants of breakfast disappearing as miraculously as they’d appeared. He liked me to depend on him in every way. Should something dire happen to him and he never return, I’d slowly starve to death, leaving nothing but a manacled corpse behind.

That thought plagued me enough that when the flutter of wings sounded outside the window, my primary emotion was one of relief. When he walked in as a man rather than a harpy, successfully hiding the savage teeth behind the magical veneer, the sense of relief only grew. He stopped when he saw me standing at the end of the corridor, a sunny smile settling on his face. “Hello, my darling. Did you miss me?”

“Of course,” I said. Lies came easier now. Practice apparently made perfect.

He swept past me to head into the dining room and I blinked at the food already on the table: bread, a selection of meats and cheeses, and fruit. And, of course, the obligatory flagon of wine. How had he done that? When had he done that?

He took a seat, pouring wine for both of us into the usual goblets and pushing one across to me as I took my usual seat, Lucretius and I only ever using one corner of the ridiculously long table. “Where did you go?” I asked conversationally as I filled my plate with food. The bread was perfectly crusty, the fruit at the perfect zenith of ripeness. It was like Lucretius’ human façade. Too perfect. Too artificial, making me yearn for a brown spot on the apple, or a hidden worm. Anything to make it less polished and more real.

Lucretius chewed on a mouthful of bread and cheese while he considered my question. “I had business to attend to.”

“What sort of business?”

He smiled. It was a smile I recognized. It was the one that said how cute that the human thinks he has a right to know anything. True to form, he reached over and ruffled my hair like I was a child. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. You’re safe here. No one visits this island. No one pays it the slightest bit of attention.”

“Why not?” A sinking sensation filled my chest. Was it more magic?

Lucretius shrugged. “No idea, but they don’t. I get left alone. We will be left alone.”

“That’s good news.” I managed not to choke on the words, but it was a close-run thing.

“The birds told me you took a walk around the island, that you spent hours out there.”

The birds. How could I have forgotten that they spoke to him, that they shared a telepathic link? There I was thinking I’d been alone on the island, and instead I’d been sharing it with hundreds of feathered spies. The bite of apple I’d just taken turned to sawdust in my mouth, and my fingers tightened reflexively around the goblet. What if they’d watched me through the windows as I’d carried out my extensive search of the house? What if they’d told Lucretius how long I’d spent examining every nook and cranny? They couldn’t have known what I was looking for, but it didn’t take a genius to work it out.

I studied Lucretius for visible signs of tension or annoyance. There were none, which meant either he was going to great pains to hide them, or I’d gotten away with it. Could I be that lucky? “I did,” I said, pleased by the evenness of my voice. “I like to be outside. I’m used to being on the deck of a ship, not hemmed up inside like…” I trailed off, realizing my mistake.

“Like?” Lucretius asked.

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