Page 53 of Scourge of the Shores
“I was born to lead me island,” she retorted.
“Could’ve fooled me,” he said with a grin. “When was your first time on a ship?”
“I was three,” she said.
“And?”
“And what, I was three. Me father took me on our Chadwick galleon, the one I command to this day.”
Robert let out a slow breath at the defensiveness in her voice. “Three, huh?” He stretched his arms behind his head, looking at the roof beams. “You’re lucky. Your father took you to the sea like it was sacred.”
He closed his eyes, remembering. “I was born on Storm Rider. I barely remember my first time realizing I was on a ship. I was too young. But I do remember the first time the sea made me feel alive.”
He slit an eye open, tilted his head toward her, catching her silhouette in the dimming light. “I was six. Storm hit us outta nowhere, nearly tore us in two. Thought I’d drown in me mum’s arms. Wind howled so loud I couldn’t hear the crew shouting. Water stole the deck clean out from under me, and for a moment, I wasn’t on a ship at all—I was in the sea, gaspin’ for air, feelin’ the DeepMother’s tears, saltwater chokin’ me breath.”
She stirred with her gaze intensely on him.
His chuckle erupted. “Funny thing was, I didn’t—I didn’t panic. I floated there, ridin’ each wave, starin’ up at the black sky streaked white, listenin’ to the rain hammer the water around me. And for the first time, I felt somethin’ like peace. Like the sea didn’t want me dead. Just wanted me to listen, so I did. Maybe that’s why the DeepMother let me live.”
He turned to look at her. She glanced up at the rafters. “So, Danna, tell me. The first time you were on a ship—was it just another day? Or did the sea whisper to you, too?”
She shrugged, a story clearly in her eyes, but whatever it was, it never left her lips.
“I saw the peace in your eyes while you were on the gunwale lookin’ over the waves,” he began, testing the ache of her heart. “What if ye don’t want the legacy yer father left? The island. What if ye want somethin’ else? Somethin’ more? What if ye want to be on the sea?”
Her arms tightened, and she rocked a bit as if an answer was about to burst through her tight, full lips. Finally, she scoffed and muttered, “Enough mush. Why don’t ye just go to sleep? ”
He drew in a deep breath. He had offered her two chances to open up to him again, like she did with her story about Ma, but she wasn’t budging. Offered her a story about his childhood that had much more to it if she wanted to know, but she didn’t. Maybe he was wasting time and risking standing with his men for nothing. Maybe he really was making her uncomfortable, and she felt nothing for him.
“I ain’t goin’ to sleep ’til I know ye ain’t gonna kill me while I’m sleepin’,” he muttered.
She huffed. “I ain’t gonna kill ye unless ye touch me.”
His eyelids drooped. “I ain’t gonna touch ye, lass,” he muttered. “Ye wanna lay down and listen to the rain with me?”
“No,” she said.
Maybe he had deceived himself, seeing what he wanted to see rather than what was. His confidence finally caught up to him. But he was usually a good judge of instinct. Maybe his longing had blinded him.
His breathing fell into cadence with the rain, and sleep had almost claimed him until the wooden planks creaked. His eyes popped open, realizing she lay beside him, but not too close. She put her hat on her chest.
“If ye lay closer, we can share the blanket,” he mumbled.
“I ain’t laying close to ye; stop askin’,” she said.
She rolled so her back faced him.
“Pirates say never turn yer back, else ye might find steel in it.” He shifted his focus to her.
She rolled and faced upward, her glare fixed on the rafters. “Ye’d put steel in me back, Jaymes?”
“Would you?”
“Go to sleep,” she ordered.
He’d try one more time. Poke her resolve and see what lay beneath. He turned on his side, facing her and resting his head in the crook of his bent arm.
He studied her profile. Perfection. The ultimate woman. A woman who’d never let him slack. A woman who’d keep him at his best, striving for greater things. And if she didn’t feel the same, he had no doubt his heart would twist and break.
