Page 50 of Scourge of the Shores
“At least, we get another night together,” he said with a grin.
“I’d rather rot in Tophet than sleep next to ye,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “Ouch,” he drawled. “And here I thought you might take pity on a poor, freezing pirate.”
“Ye thought wrong,” she said, looking past him.
“Why are you different, Danna?” The woman on the shore opened up to him. The connection was real, or so he thought.
“Different?”
“From our walk on the shore?”
“Me? I’m not different. It’s ye who’s different. Callin’ me a cheat.”
He laughed. “I had to do it,” he said, pushing off the gunwale, taking a few steps toward her. “It was the only way I’d gain passage on yer ship without riskin’ me neck.”
“Ye don’t think I’m a cheat?”
He shook his head.
“No, I trust you more than you trust me,” he said, and that was the first truth he hadn’t meant to say. The statement tasted strange on his tongue. He was a pirate, and trust wasn’t given freely.
It was then that he realized he’d lost the upper hand, not in their frivolous game of authority, but in the truth about how he felt about her. And he didn’t want it back. It was in her hands now, where it should be. He’d given her power over his heart.
“And maybe, well . . . that’s my mistake,” he admitted as he moved past her, letting his arm brush past her warmth. He peered down into her pretty blues.
“I’ll find out where the Captains sleep,” he whispered. “So you don’t have to rough it with the boys, my Queen.”
“I’m not yer queen,” she spat in a rush, but something rattled her words.
He leaned just close enough for his whispered breath to tingle her ear. “Not yet.” His jaw clenched as he pulled away, as if the words had left a mark on him. He shouldn’t have said that, but he wouldn’t take it back. He turned and left her, determined to win her over. He knew for sure, at least for him, it wasn’t a game anymore.
She spun on her heels. Her glare bore into the back of his head, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He said what he said. Let her figure out what to do with it if she even cared.
The six sailors gathered at the port master’s guardhouse. Robert leaned against the frame, arms loose, watching. They were the only ship at the port. The others had left and tried to beat the storm. Fools, maybe. Or wise men—he supposed they'd find out by morning.
Danna leaned against the counter. “Surely, ye can spare a room or two for the lot of us,” she said and flashed the elderly man a winning grin. “We’ve been good to each other for a long time, Ben.”
Robert stood off to the side, watching her handle the uncompensated ask. The wind howled through the gaps in the guardhouse as the rain started tapping harder against its wooden frame. The storm was impatient, and they were all about to get soaked.
“Pirates ain’t welcome here, Danna, ye know it,” Ben muttered low, his gaze darting between her and Otto and Thane standing behind her.
Robert stepped forward, nudging Danna—not forceful, just enough to insert himself into the discussion. Robert’s smirk didn’t slip. “We ain’t pirates,” he said, and let the lie sit for a second. Then he continued, easy and unbothered, “Just lowly sailors, hit a storm?—”
“Save it, pirate,” Ben interjected.
“We ain’t even armed, mate,” Robert said, pulling his Captain’s coat open to show empty holsters.
“Ain’t armed now,” Ben retorted. “What’s to keep all of ye to return and take what ye want.”
Robert let his coat fall back into place. “Otto, Thane, ye promise to forget this place?”
“Aye.”
Robert shot a look at the portly man to see if it was good enough.
Ben scoffed and shifted on his feet. “Pirates lie.” He didn’t spit the words so much as drop them like a stone in water, waiting for the ripple.
