Page 15 of Breath From the Sea
Chapter Five
Just before his men raised the board allowing him to pass between the two ships, Titus heard his dog, Storm, bark. The sound was far off at first, as though he barked from the cabin where Titus had left him, but then it drew closer. The deep undertones of his massive hound rumbled the deck and Titus whistled for his men to stop what they were doing.
Storm had been locked in his cabin for a reason. A wonderful rescue dog, particularly in a storm—which was where he gained his moniker—the hound also liked to regulate the crew a bit too much and had been in a particular mood this morning, nipping one of the swabbies who’d been mending a sail.
With behavior like that, Titus was of half a mind to keep Storm at home, but he’d never crossed a hound with better skill at sea, and so, Storm was kept locked up when he misbehaved.
Except there came his large white and brown head, tongue wagging in the breeze as he bounded across the deck. Who would have let him out? Not any of his crew. They’d not dare go against Titus.
“Ballocks,” Titus growled.
There was only one explanation that made any sense—and yet made no sense at all. While the large pirate had treated Titus and his crew to a most disturbing story of his bowels, someone, or many, had boarded his ship in secret. They were in his cabin. And since he knew theLittle Doveto truly be theLady Hookhe could guess at who it was and what she was looking for.
“Pardon me a moment, gentleman,” Titus said to the merchant captain. “I’m going to get you a map that I think will help with your travels.”
Though the false merchant captain blubbered over a response, Titus ignored him, whistling to his hound that immediately came to sit before him.
Titus eyed Grenville, then patted the dog on his massive head. “Well, Storm, done with your nap and keeping an eye on everyone I see.”
Grenville and several of the crew stiffened, coming to the same conclusion as Titus. While they’d been waylaid with the mindless chatter, that sneaky little chit had managed to board. How the hell has she done it? Only a daring fool would do such a thing. Which he’d discovered she was both, daring and a fool.
At a steady, but un-alarming clip, he walked across the deck toward the stairs leading just below to his cabin.
The door was closed, not that he’d expected to find it open. If Lady Antónia had breached their hull, and let his hound out, she wouldn’t have left the portal wide as an invitation.
Titus drew his pistol, loading a single shot, not that he planned to shoot her. Just scare her a little—and if she was with anyone, perhaps put a bullet in their foot. He tested the door handle. As slow and quiet as he could, he pressed, but the lever didn’t budge. Locked.
Another fact he was not a bit surprised to find.
The only way out was the porthole—and not a big enough opening for a man to escape from. He couldn’t wait to hear just how she’d managed to get into his cabin without anyone the wiser.
Titus pulled the key from around his neck and inserted it into the lock, and just as he’d suspected, he could hear scrambling from the other side. Deftly he unlocked the door and thrust it open.
But he was not expecting to come face-to-face with the O’Malley wench. Not in the least.
She stood in the center of his cabin, ruby-red lips forming an “O”, creamy cheeks colored red as roses and her eyes, green as an Irish heath blazed at him with both surprise and fury. Her red hair was darkened, wet, and tendrils fell around her face, sticking to her cheeks and neck. She was dressed differently than when he’d seen her a few hours before. Her black linen shirt clinging to her curves, her bust flattened considerably from what he’d felt. Leather breeches leeched to her thighs and hips like a second skin.
If she wasn’t in his cabin, presumably robbing him blind, he’d have swooped her up into his embrace, laid her out on his bed and ravished her. Hell, maybe he still would.
As it was, she held a blunderbuss in one hand, pointing it toward his chest, the other behind her back.
“What the hell are you doing?” This was going to be good.
She bit her lip, not answering.
Titus glanced at his wardrobe, which, though mostly closed, was still slightly ajar. “Let me see your hand,” he ordered.
There was only one thing in that wardrobe that could be of interest to the daring pirate wench—well, unless she was interested in stealing his clothes, which judging from this being the second set of male garb he’d seen her in wasn’t entirely out of the question. But, he was fairly certain considering their last encounter, she was after The Lucius Ring. And probably had it hidden behind her back now.
She raised the barrel, pointing it at his head. “Don’t take another step, ye jackanapes.”
Titus bared his teeth. “You’ll not dare shoot an officer in Her Majesty’s Navy. Not when your entire family depends on her good will. I’ll not ask again, show me what you’re hiding.”
Antónia laughed, a sound that in any other situation might have been construed as jovial. “Ye’re even more a fool than I thought. And ye needn’t ask. I’ve nothing to show ye that ye haven’t seen before.”
“A mere play on words, madam.” Titus took another step forward, lowering his weapon, hoping to show her that he wasn’t afraid and he wouldn’t hurt her.
“Perhaps.” She started to back up toward the porthole and he realized that must have been how she’d gotten inside his cabin.
