Page 72 of A Pirate's Pleasure

“He was, but…”

“Yeah,” Whitby said with a sigh, his fingers wrapping around my biceps to offer a comforting squeeze.

“I’m glad I’m not alone,” I said. “I didn’t want to be, but how do you invite someone to a hanging?”

Whitby gave a humorless laugh. “You don’t. Not if you want them to stay your friends.” He turned his head to take in the crowd. “Although, going by this lot, this is some people’s idea of a good time. And to think that they say pirates are the bloodthirsty ones.”

“I heard stories about Zeph,” I said. “Stories full of murder and violence. Were they true?”

Whitby turned his head to level me with a stare. “You tell me. You’ve known him longer than I have. Does that sound like the Zephyr you know and love?”

“No.”

Whitby smiled. “Well, there you go, then. There’s your answer. Some stories are just that. They’re a useful deterrent, though. Who’d want to mess with a pirate captain who leaves a trail of destruction in his wake?”

“No one.”

“Exactly.”

“Except that it’s that reputation that’s brought him here.”

There was nothing Whitby could say to that when it was true. No doubt Reeve would dine out on his part in bringing the notorious Captain Zephyr Chase to justice for the rest of his life, and that story would be embellished, too, turning into one where he’d lured Zeph to Elderborough before pouncing on him.

Movement at the far end of the square snagged my gaze, my heart lodging itself firmly in my throat, and my knees threatening to buckle under me if I wasn’t careful. “Is it…?”

“Yes,” Whitby confirmed, his voice bearing a distinct tremor. “You always know that this is a possibility when you’re a pirate, but you convince yourself that it won’t happen to anyone you know. I never thought of all people that it would be Zephyr. If anyone always seemed invincible, it was him. Do you know what I mean?”

I nodded, my throat too thick to produce words. Zephyr could pluck the very worst that nature had to offer from the sky and shape it into a weapon, so of course, it was difficult to believe they could ever bring him to his knees in this way.

Reeve came into view first, the soldier at the head of the small procession, presumably so everyone in the crowd could ooh and ahh at him, and say how cunning he was. Bastard! I vowed there and then to find a way to ruin him. Someone had once told me that there was nothing you couldn’t achieve if you had enough money at your disposal. I planned to find out just how true that was, even if it took every single bit of the fortune I’d inherited to do it. By the time I’d finished with him, Reeve would rue the day that our paths had ever crossed. It would give me a reason to get up in the morning, to go on, to keep breathing when part of my heart would be missing.

Baravor was next, flanked by two soldiers. His manacled hands weren’t enough of a precaution that they hadn’t also provided an escort. His head was down, his gaze fixed on the floor. The little of his face I could see was chalky-white, a surge of emotion I refused to give credence to gathering in my chest. Baravor deserved what he had coming to him. Yes, life had dealt him a tough hand, but he was the one who’d chosen to use such drastic methods to overcome it.

What would I have done if he’d come and spoken to me and explained things? I guess that was a question I’d never be able to answer, but I’d like to think I’d have found some sort of resolution. Perhaps we would have become friends. And instead, my one remaining relative was about to be hanged.

“So, that’s him, is it?” Whitby asked. “Doesn’t look much like a murderer.”

He didn’t. He looked like a scared little boy who’d taken a wrong turn and really wanted to retrace his steps and go back to where he’d started. Unfortunately, it was too late for that.

The procession moved forward again, affording me my first glimpse of Zeph. Like Baravor, two soldiers escorted him. Unlike Baravor, though, he held his head high, and he met the stare of the crowd without looking away. He was fierce in his defiance, my chest filling with a mixture of love and pride. They might hang him, but he’d go to his grave unbowed. Reeve would hate that, and Zeph knew it. I didn’t doubt that inside he was scared. Who wouldn’t be when your life was about to be ripped from you? But he wouldn’t show it, and I’d never loved him more.

“Oh! He’s very handsome,” the same woman who’d speculated over him having scars and tattoos said. “I didn’t expect that. Perhaps I’d have gone on a few sea voyages myself if I’d realized there were pirates that looked like that.”

The man next to her, presumably her husband, pulled a face but chose not to comment. Whitby had gone rigid next to me, and it was my turn to offer a reassuring squeeze to his arm. This would be horrific, but it was some comfort that we had the other to face it with.

As Reeve led them to the gallows, some of the crowd cheered. Most, though, stood in stunned silence as if the reality of what they were about to witness had finally sunk in, and they couldn’t quite bring themselves to celebrate the impending death of two men, even if they were a pirate and a murderer.

A series of steps led up to the scaffold, Baravor earning a shove in the back when he balked at the first of them. Even the people cheering stopped as the soldiers were forced to manhandle him to get him up there. Zephyr, however, sauntered up them like he was simply out for a stroll. He stood on the scaffold, scouring the crowd. I knew what he was looking for. Perhaps he knew me better than I knew myself, and he’d always known I’d be here, despite our conversation. I doubted the outcome would have been any different had the roles been reversed.

He frowned as his search came to naught. I lifted my hands and lowered my hood, Zephyr’s gaze immediately swinging in my direction. A small smile graced his lips as our gazes met and held, a lifetime of silent communication passing between us in the space of only a few seconds. When Whitby also lowered his hood, Zephyr’s gaze drifted across to him and he offered his friend and quartermaster a nod before returning his gaze to mine.

The soldiers poked and prodded both men until they climbed on top of their respective wooden boxes, Baravor seeming to have accepted that his lack of cooperation was pointless and that his actions would only delay, not change, the outcome.

A noose was slipped around both men’s necks and tightened. I mouthed “I love you” across the space that separated us, Zephyr’s gaze still on mine. He didn’t mouth it back, but he didn’t need to. It was written all over his face. It was in the way he refused to look away.

Reeve stepped to the front of the scaffold, his expression telling the tale of a man extremely pleased with himself. He cleared his throat dramatically, the crowd falling silent. “It is gratifying to see so many of you gathered here in the pursuit of justice, and today we rid Theoporia of not just one criminal, but two. Both murderers. Both operating under the mistaken belief that the law wouldn’t catch up with them. And they were both wrong. The world will be a much better place once they are no longer in it.”

“Get on with it,” someone shouted. Reeve inclined his head in their direction, but there was no missing the tightening of his jaw, a telltale sign that he didn’t appreciate someone cutting short his moment of glory.

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