Page 64 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
Tully said, “But will he? I don’t reckon there’s as much call to fear him as you think. He’s grown weak. Don’t have his priorities straight from where I’m sittin.’”
Hawk tightened his arm around Nathaniel, who murmured and shifted in his sleep. He’d wanted to stride onto the beach, draw his cutlass and slice them to pieces for the birds and insects to swarm. Especially Tully, whose tongue Hawk would take great pleasure in ripping from his big mouth.
But the truth of it was they were right. His thinking was compromised by his prick. No, far worse than that—by soft, tender places within that he hadn’t unearthed in years; hadn’t known still existed, not since John so long ago.
He’d allowed Nathaniel to dig away at him, shifting sands grain by grain until he was laid bare.
His lips brushed the knots of Nathaniel’s spine, heart warming at the whisper of his sleepy sigh. The entrance to the tent flapped up in a gust of wind, and across the beach, Hawk spotted a cluster of men speaking, Tully among them. They glanced back at the tent, and Hawk wasn’t sure if it was too bright out there to see in. To see him holding their prisoner in his arms.
Enough.
Time to put a stop to it. Closing his eyes, he thought of Walter Bainbridge and that day at the Admiralty Court when Hawk had stood in disbelief as he was branded a pirate after so many years in faithful service to the Crown.
He pressed at the wound that had festered ever since, calling on his fury. Yes, he would have his revenge and his ransom. If not, he would lose control of his ship. Worse than that, if the men determined he’d been acting against their interests, he could be put to death. He’d seen crews turn, and it could happen in a blink. How had he let himself drift so far off course?
Snell’s words echoed through his head. “Sentiment will only go so far.”
And it had gone more than fucking far enough. Rolling away and grabbing his boots, he tugged one on.
A sleepy voice murmured, “Tell me you aren’t really going to wear those boots. We’ll be on the beach all day. The men will still respect you, you know.” Nathaniel remained curled away on his side, unable to see what Hawk was doing.
Christ. Does he know me so well already? How did I allow this?
Nathaniel was probably right. Hawk likely didn’t have to dress the part. But he pulled on the other boot anyway, his feet already protesting in the damp, musty leather that would soon be like two ovens. He couldn’t take Nathaniel’s counsel. He had to put an end to this unwanted attraction that stirred far too fucking much.
Soon he would exchange Nathaniel for the money and never see him again. That was the plan. That was how it would be. Except Nathaniel insisted he would forge a new life for himself.
Maybe…
Nathaniel laughed softly, and from the corner of his eye, Hawk watched as he pushed himself up and inhaled sharply. Hawk had already asked, “What?” and taken hold of Nathaniel’s shoulders before he could think twice. Gasping, Nathaniel shrugged and squirmed away, leaning his hands on the tangled, sandy blanket.
Hawk tugged the collar of Nathaniel’s worn shirt to the side, taking in the finger-shaped bruises. Guilt stabbed, razor-sharp and jagged. And never mind his shoulders—Hawk could imagine how tender Nathaniel’s arse was after what they’d done without oil and in the sand. Before he could say a thing, Nathaniel did.
“It’s not your fault. I asked you to. I wanted it like that.”
True, but… Hawk cleared his throat. “Do you need the surgeon?”
Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. “For a few bruises? I’m confident I’ll survive.”
“Are you sure it’s only bruising?”
Nathaniel shifted gingerly, coming around to sit. He smiled softly. “I believe so. If I discover otherwise, I’ll tell you.”
Frowning, Hawk folded his arms and considered shouting for the surgeon anyway. “If there’s tearing—”
“I’m fine.” He placed his hand, warm and gentle, on Hawk’s bare forearm where the sleeves were rolled up, his thumb stroking. “Don’t worry.”
And fuck, it was too much to take—the easy familiarity, the way Nathaniel scratched his chest absently with his other hand, yawning, as if this were a lazy morning in another place. Another life altogether.
It was a fraud, and a potentially deadly one at that. Hawk shook him off and jumped to his feet in the stupid fucking boots, almost losing his balance on the sand, a blanket caught around his ankle.
He kicked it free. “I’m not worried. But I can’t return you to your father with too many bruises.”
Nathaniel infuriatingly gave him another winsome smile. “Perhaps you don’t have to return me at all. We could—”
“Hawk!” Snell stood just outside the tent. “If you’re quite ready to start the day, there are a few matters at hand.”
