Page 63 of Scourge of the Shores
Salted wind tangled her hair as her gaze wandered to the endless blue. Her voice wavered, not from fear—but longing.
"Sometimes I stand right here, starin’ at that horizon . . . and I hate it."
Robert’s brow lifted.
"Hate it?" he echoed, his voice soft, coaxing.
"Aye," she said, jaw tightening. "Because the DeepMother whispers to me. Tells me there’s more. But when I turn around,” she motioned toward the island, “all I see’s everything I know.”
Her gaze flicked back to the sea. "The island needs me. Ma needs me. I’ve got a role to fill, a name to uphold. Chadwicks don’t leave. But . . .”
She trailed off, forcing the words down. She shouldn’t say it—not to him.
But Robert didn’t move. His stillness wasn’t cold; it was waiting. Like he knew the tide would bring the truth in its own time.
"But?" he asked.
Her eyes lit beneath the sunlight as she gazed at the waves. The soft lap against the boulder gave rhythm to her voice. “I’ve dreams of sailin’ beneath the sun and the open skies. Our ships’re old, and we don’t venture far except to trade.”
She walked past him to the middle of the boulder—flat and wide as if smashed by the gods to give lovers of the sea a place to behold its glory.
Her mouth should’ve shut, but she kept going in whatever sense of safety she felt in his presence, speaking the long desire of her heart.
“Sometimes I wish I could sail away from all the pain here.” She hesitated to say more, but Robert’s presence calmed her. And if anything, he’d be gone in a few months, carrying her secrets away. “I feel lost since our walk on the shore. . . like a pirate without a treasure map.”
Robert approached and stood beside her, facing her. “My father’d tell me, ‘Sometimes the greatest treasure’s right before your very eyes.’”
His gaze didn’t drift to the sea. It stayed fixed on her while she kept her eyes on the horizon, feeling his gaze on her cheek.
"And what if the treasure ain’t gold?" she whispered.
Robert leaned in just enough for his voice to drop between them.
"Then it’s worth fightin’ for all the more."
Danna didn’t answer. She kept her gaze locked on the waves.
But the truth gnawed at her.
“Then, maybe the treasure’s killin’ Cain,” she said with a soft shrug, ignoring his implications. “Maybe the treasure’s gainin’ yer and the pirate kings’ aid.”
She took in a deep breath; her voice wavered. “But why’s it feel like I only exist ‘cause Cain’s alive?”
Robert stood in front of her, drawing her attention. “Because you’re denying yourself for something that doesn’t call you.”
She hated crying in front of anyone, but tears slipped free before she could stop them. She turned her head—refusing to let him see her like this. But his hand was already there, rough yet gentle, brushing a tear away with his thumb.
“Then I guess I’ll never get peace,” she said, still not wanting him to see her tears.
He stepped closer. “You asked me why I was here.” His thumb lingered against her cheek, lifting her face to his. “Ye give me peace, Danna.”
She shook her head. “Ye barely know me.”
“I know enough,” he murmured in a raw intensity as he lowered his forehead to hers.
She didn’t pull back. She didn’t push him away. He slid the hand on her cheek to her nape and, with the other, pressed her closer to him, but she made no move to lift her lips.
“I know that if you came with me,” he whispered. “I’d give you the world.”
