Page 31 of Scourge of the Shores
“Lost to her? Hardly. Listen here, you buckos, have I ever failed ye?” he asked.
Both men shook their heads.
“Then trust me.” Robert locked eyes with Rosa. “Especially ye, me brother, me matelot, me friend since boyhood.”
Rosa inclined his head and removed his hand from Robert’s shoulder. “Aye, Robert. Should’ve known yer cunnin’ style. The woman’s sand in yer hands.”
Robert chuckled. “Ah, for the flattery. She’s stone, stubborn, and hard to move. But even stone can be shaped by the sea.”
Blackwood grunted. “Good.” He shoved Robert’s hand off his shoulder and turned around to shout, “Cut the wood. Only the wood.” He walked off.
Rosa turned to go, too, but Robert tightened his grip, keeping him rooted to the spot. “Daniel, brother. Next time I save yer life and keep ye out of shameful shanties about eating a woman’s bullet, don’t start whisperin’ mutiny while I’m gone.”
Rosa’s ears simmered red and raised with a taut jaw. He popped his neck, but finally, he spat in a gruff, “Aye, mate. Ye made yer point. But ye still give me the shivers sometimes.”
“Ain’t yer worry, savvy?” Robert reassured. “I made a deal, not a war. A truce, while we’re stuck here, and that sea beast is feastin’ on them instead of us. Ye wanted to raid, take prisoners, make ‘em do yer work—but I did it without spillin’ a drop of blood. The treasure stays, just as ye vowed, buried with the bones of the father pirate kings. So maybe, instead of flappin’ yer jaw, ye oughta thank me for not gettin’ yer men gutted over nothin’.”
Rosa growled and narrowed his eyes. He slammed his hand over Robert’s hand and pulled it off his shoulder.
“Ye’ve gone soft, Jaymes.” Rosa’s voice dropped low, jaw tight. “A real pirate king don’t bargain when there’s blood to spill. Don’t trade iron for stones when gold’s ripe for the takin’. And he sure as rot don’t lose his edge chasin’ after a wench’s skirt.”
Robert smiled, slow and sure. “Aye, brother, but I ain’t just any pirate king.” He shifted to polished speech, letting each word drip with intent. “I act with purpose. Always for our gain. Gold feeds the present. But prestige . . . power . . . that’s what carves names into legend.” He leaned in. “The world will remember Jaymes. Will they remember Rosa?”
Rosa’s lip curled beneath steaming eyes. Finally, he spat, “Aye, brother.” He backed up in a saunter before turning to leave with the others.
Robert watched Rosa stalking off and finally released a slow, steady breath. His flintlocks were empty. He had walked into that whole exchange unarmed. If things had gone sideways, he’d be six feet under.
The camp settled into work, and Frank approached and stood beside him. Robert dreaded whatever the man was going to say.
Silence fell upon them as they both looked out at the sea.
Robert ran his tongue across his front teeth and spat the night’s paste away from Frank. “If ye’re going to compare me to my father, I’d rather ye not.”
Frank chuckled before a firm, but quiet word passed over his tongue. “Yer father’d be proud.” He peered down with a mild smile before going his way.
Robert’s chin touched his chest as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“My father would be proud,” Robert muttered. But as Danna’s ashen face filled his mind, the thought curdled. His father would never have let a woman become his weakness. If he were smart, he’d forget her. His father would have left her to die. Ruthless was his father’s name, and now it was his. Ruthless in determination. Ruthless in taking what he wanted. His father wanted a legacy. Danna Chadwick was not a part of the Jaymes legacy. Robert clenched his fists.
The first time he saved Danna was to maintain control over his pirate factions. The second time, it stemmed from his admiration for her. Now, for the third time, he made a definitive choice: Danna or nothing. He was determined to save the woman who had stolen his heart.
He looked at Storm Rider in the distance. He would have to make an excuse to go there to get the enchantment and return to Danna tomorrow. “Guess I ain’t my father after all. And maybe I ain’t that bright either… ‘cause as sure as the sea, I ain’t leaving her to Tophet.”
CHAPTER 7
The Shared Passion
Danna rolled off her mother’s bed and dragged herself to the table. With dead legs, she climbed into the seat, spent and groaning. Her spinning head made her vision blur. The urge to vomit presented at the top of her throat. She focused on her leg. The fabric of her pants had grown stiff with dried blood. The white sign of infection puffed around the sewn-up gash. Cold sweat rolled down her back and brow.
She leaned over the table, her cheek on the surface, arms outstretched as if embracing the round edge. Ma’s soft snores sounded in cadence with the flicker of the hearth fire. Her ribs ached in her bent position, but the strength to sit up escaped her. She finally got one arm beneath her neck and pushed until she fell back into the seat. Her shoulders rose, and her belly filled with fresh air. The paste in her mouth thickened. She stared at the hazy outline of the open door as two shadows appeared.
“I’m glad to see you’re up,” Robert’s voice pounded in her head.
She grimaced and threw her fist up on the table in an attempt to show she was in control.
“Danna, ye look like death,” Lucas’s voice came from the other shadow.
A cool, wet rag dabbed at her brow, and Lucas’s face faded into focus as he steadied her head.
