Page 60 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
Then what becomes of me?
While the men went back to work and Hawk conferred with Snell without glancing Nathaniel’s way, Nathaniel remained at the rail and stared at the speck of land growing larger.
Soon the next land they approached would be Primrose Isle, and the adventure would be over. His gut churned, melancholy thickening his throat and stealing his breath.
Assuming Walter paid the ransom—and he refused to dwell on the idea that he wouldn’t, banishing the flare of panic—Nathaniel would have to find a way to leave the colony and build a new life.
Hawk’s confession that he wished to retire echoed in Nathaniel’s mind. He peered at Hawk surveying the crew, pacing a few steps, then stopping, his hands clasped behind him, coat left in the cabin given the heat, dark sleeves rolled. His black trousers hugged his slim hips and muscular thighs, gold belt and tips of his boots gleaming.
Flushing, Nathaniel remembered the taste when he’d licked those boots—his own salty, musky seed and an oak flavor that reminded him of dark red wine. He could scarcely believe it was all real and not some feverish imagining, that he’d lain with this man, fantasy made flesh.
Hawk gazed out to the horizon, his lined face calm, poised and ready for whatever crossed their path. Would such a powerful man really be satisfied living a simple life by the sea instead of snared in its embrace, miles from anything?
Perhaps he would wish to share a life with Nathaniel, and they could build a house somewhere, live simply and most of all together…
No. Stop. Marshaling his wayward mind—treacherous as ever—Nathaniel forced away the vision of early morning fishing and picking fruit under the sun. He couldn’t allow himself down such a dangerous path.
Hawk was fucking him and had shown kindness. More than that: compassion and care. He’d told him things perhaps he hadn’t shared with any other person. And while Nathaniel truly didn’t believe Hawk would harm him, he daren’t expect their connection to become more, to last beyond his captivity. That was far too much to hope for, no matter how close they’d grown.
Wasn’t it?
Surely they would soon part, and Nathaniel would strike out for…somewhere. He would do…something. In the meantime, he would relish every touch he could coax from Hawk, every confession, every smile. Hour by hour. Minute by minute, leaving the unknowable future in its place, beyond reach.
Under the faint light of the sliver of moon amid clouds, the beach stretched out in front of him, waves rolling over the sand. Behind Nathaniel, men went about their work.
Some set up camp, others catching supper, and still others ferrying supplies from the ship, which was as close to shore as it could get, the sloop’s shallow draft allowing it to bob in only eight feet of water, a hulking shadow at anchor that would be heaved over in the light of day.
Nathaniel stared at the empty expanse before him, then turned to Hawk, who watched him with a tiny smile before saying, “Go on, then.”
He didn’t waste a moment, racing along the damp sand near the placid water’s edge, delighting at the surf swirling around his ankles from time to time. He pumped his arms, breathing steadily, legs flexing, feet pushing off the sand. His heart thundered in the best way, reminding him he was wonderfully alive.
There was nothing but him and the beach, his body working, mind free and clear as if he were racing across a meadow at Hollington. His breath came shorter than usual after weeks cooped up, and his muscles burned more quickly. But he didn’t hesitate as he blazed across the sand, determined to enjoy every moment to the fullest, no matter how hard he had to work for it.
He should likely have been more careful in the darkness, slowing to ensure he didn’t trip and break his neck on an outcropping of rock, but there was only fine sand beneath his feet.
It was seemingly endless until the beach abruptly gave way to a slew of rocks and boulders at the end of the island. The only direction to go was back the way he came, unless he wanted to veer into the hulking shadow of the tropical forest.
He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone, and he stopped at the edge of the nameless island, wonderfully alone. Inhaling deeply of the fresh air, sweet with tropical blooms and heavy with impending rain, he caught his breath before trotting back along the beach.
After a time, the moon disappeared, and he could barely make out the white crests of the waves as the wind increased. The crew’s bonfire was faintly visible in the distance.
He stopped and tugged at his sweat-drenched shirt, peeling it over his head and tossing it behind him. The water was blissfully cool without being cold, and he waded in to his thighs, breeches clinging.
