Page 57 of Scourge of the Shores
The sea stretched endlessly before them, but no matter how far they sailed, Danna couldn't outrun the ghost of his touch. The storm inside her raged, untamed, with no horizon wide enough to escape it.
Robert worked without his Captain’s coat and hat, moving like any other deckhand. She had expected him to push, demand an answer, and force her to admit something she wasn’t ready to say. Instead, he had done the one thing she hadn’t prepared for—he let her go.
Robert went about his duties as if the sea were the only thing keeping him breathing. Like it was all he had left. He didn’t linger, didn’t challenge her, didn’t so much as glance her way unless duty required it. He said, “Aye, Captain,” when spoken to, was up when he was supposed to be up, and slept when he needed to sleep.
It was what she wanted and asked of him when he first came aboard. It should’ve been a relief. But instead, it suffocated her.
Lucas had told her Robert liked her but wouldn’t take orders from her, yet there he was, jumping at her every command and executing with perfection, even after she’d walked away from him. He’d handed his power to her, but as what she didn’t know. A gift? A truce? A trick? Out of love or lust? A game, a lie? None of those things?
Her bottom lip still quivered from the searing touch of his thumb, though the chilled sea breeze soothed the burn.
Out of everything, there was one thing she could not allow herself to believe, though its truth pummeled against the weakening walls of her heart: how right she felt in his arms, how much she wanted his lips against hers, and how no other man could ever do what he’d done to her. He’d gotten into her head, and worse, she feared he belonged there.
The deck swayed beneath her feet; the wind curled over the sails. By the tiller, Scotty tied off a cleat while she watched Robert handle the mainsail.
“Captain,” Scotty whispered, low enough that only she could hear. His gaze flicked toward Robert, then back to her. "Ain’t me place to ask . . ." He hesitated, gripping the rope tighter. "But somethin’ happened in the barn, didn’t it?"
She gripped the tiller tighter but didn’t turn. “Ye’re right. It ain’t yer place.”
But Scotty didn’t budge. “Ethan and I’ll handle it. Him. All of ‘em, if need be. We can run this sloop with just the three of us.”
Her fingers dug into the tiller, knuckles white. Her eyes fixated on the horizon line. “Nothin’ happened. And if it did, Jaymes now knows his place on me ship.”
She glanced at Scotty to find his stony glare, hoping that was the end of it.
But she knew it wasn’t.
By dawn, the cliffs of her ancestor’s island rose from the mist like ghosts from the deep. The sight should’ve brought relief. Should’ve made her feel at home again. But her chest was tight, knowing that in three to four months, the pirates would be gone. Cain would return. And everything would go back to how it was, and yet not.
Her eyes drifted to Robert’s frame as he and Thane furled the mainsail as the sloop drifted into port. He froze, eyes locking onto hers as if he’d felt her gaze. She should have looked away. She should’ve turned, broken the moment before it could mean anything. But she didn’t. And neither did he. It was as if they both knew their time on the sea was ending, likely forever. She’d never be on his ship, and he’d have no more reason to be on hers.
They docked at her ancestor’s island, and the villagers came to unload the ship.
Robert approached her as the barrels were rolled out of the cargo hold. He slipped his Captain’s coat on.
“I’ll be around,” Robert said as Otto walked past them, his voice steady. “At least until I make sure the pirates get their fair share.”
“I told ye I ain’t no cheat,” she bit.
His chin dipped, gaze sharp—wordless proof he’d never believed she was a cheat.
Her lips spread thin, realizing he had told her the truth a few days earlier.
“Sly, ain’t ye?” she whispered.
He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the South Sea before settling back on her. “After that . . . I suppose I’ll—I’ll only be around if there’s trouble.” His eyes searched her face. “Per your rules.”
Danna gave a curt nod. "Aye," she said, though the word felt like stone in her throat. She cleared it quickly, forcing her gaze to the South Sea instead of him. "So it’s settled." Her voice was steady, but the foundation beneath it was sand, shifting with every wave.
Robert stood on the deck as if waiting for her to look at him one last time until Thane shouted, “Ye comin’, Captain?”
“Aye, I’m comin’,” he yelled back. He slid his hat on his head, taking one more lasting gaze at Danna. “Be seein’ ye, Danna,” he whispered. His voice was quiet but sure, like a promise he knew she wouldn’t believe.
She blinked back tears, but said nothing.
His presence left her. She walked to the gunwale opposite the gangplank and leaned her elbows on it.
The waves broke her reflection, tore it to pieces, just like her desires: Cain, Ma, Robert, Lucas, and the sea were all in her life, and she wanted to be in theirs. She wanted to slay Cain, heal Ma, love Robert, honor Lucas, and live on the sea—but she couldn’t have it all. Her fingernails dug into her scalp beneath her hat. Some people got nothing. Maybe she’d get one thing. But which would it be? And at what price would it come?
