Page 29 of Breath From the Sea
Chapter Nine
Antónia glowered at the black ring on her night table.
“Ye can go to the devil, ye bloody piece of rubbish.”
Lovely, now she’d taken to speaking to inanimate objects. She’d been at Rockfleet Castle for two days, taking her meals in her room and refusing to see anyone—though Granuaille had barged in more than once, and Sweeney had shouted behind her barred door.
She lifted her hand, preparing to swipe the ring from the table, let it fly somewhere across the room and hopefully through the floorboards, but at the last second, she stopped, startled by a pounding on her door.
Granuaille, on one of her visits, had informed Antónia that if she were going to act like a child, she’d be punished like one. Her grandmother had promptly given charge of theLady Hookto Sweeney, metaphorically grounding Antónia’s ship along the shore. Except the ship wasn’t grounded, it was Antónia.
“Annie, open up!” Sweeney’s voice boomed through the door.
Reluctantly, she stood from her bed, pulling on a robe to cover her nightrail. She padded barefoot to the door and opened it, facing her oldest friend, not bothering to hide her irritation.
Sweeney looked even taller when she was barefoot, and his fierce glower, well, that was entirely familiar.
“What do ye want?” she asked.
“I want ye to come out of your stupor. Did ye know Granuaille is giving me theLady Hook?”
Antónia nodded. “Ye deserve it. Better than I.” She waved her hand at him, shooing him out. “Go forth and plunder.”
“What shite are ye speaking?” Sweeney pushed past her into the room, pacing the wooden floor, running fisted hands through his hair.
Antónia watched him a few moments growing dizzy. “I don’t deserve it. I put the lot of ye in danger. I deserve whatever punishment our fierce lady will give me.”
Sweeney stopped abruptly, putting his hands on his hips and facing her, his frown even fiercer, if at all possible. “Ye’re a coward, that’s what ye are.”
“What?” She straightened, glancing around for a weapon so she could challenge him for saying such a thing, spotting her sword, but then deciding she was too tired at the last second. “Did ye come here to insult me?”
“Ye’re giving up.”
“I am giving up my ship, aye—to ye. I’d think ye’d be more grateful,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over chest. She hated feeling so defensive.
Sweeney stormed toward her, lifting her chin so that she was forced to look at him. “Ye’re my oldest friend, Annie. My dearest friend. The only family I’ve got.”
Looking into his warm, caring eyes, made her want to cry. “Aye. Ye know I feel the same way about ye.”
“Then ye’d know if I was lying and ye’d tell me if I were being a fool.”
“Obviously,” she muttered, glancing away.
“And ye’d expect the same from me,” he stated.
Now she knew where he was headed. She shook her head and backed up a step. “Nay. I don’t want any advice ye want to give.”
Sweeney laughed bitterly. “Oh, it’s advice ye’ll be getting, but don’t confuse it with advice I want to be giving. I’d as soon lock myself in a tower and declare myself mad than tell ye what I’m about to, but I’m doing it all the same.”
“Then spill it and be gone with ye. Ye’ve a ship and a crew and much booty to plunder.”
Sweeney smirked. “Have it your way then, lassie.” He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze, to listen. “Ye’re a fool.”
Her stomach sank. “My oldest friend has come to bestow advice only to change his mind in the end and deal me a blow.” Antónia tried to back away from him.
“There ye go, ye stubborn ox, but let me finish before ye toss yourself from the window.”
Antónia rolled her eyes and fluttered her hand in a signal to continue.
