Page 28 of Bloody Black

A new day dawns bright and beautiful, with crisp blue skies and a strong breeze. Teach has put us into a harbor where the water is as clear as glass, where tropical fish fin through the waves.

“Gorgeous,” he says cheerfully, when I join him at the helm.

“Aye.” I gaze at the beach longingly. I love deserted islands. Here, I don’t have to worry about being seen; I don’t have to worry about strange men accosting me or my crew. We can swim naked if we want to, and no one will bother us.

It’s cooler here. The wind brings the tang of a thing I’ve all but forgotten: autumn.

As we move north, the temperature will dip.

The trees will be different. I cannot wait to see the snow once more—it’s been years since I’ve held a snowflake in my hand, years since I stepped foot on black sand beaches.

For today, however, we’re still in warm weather.

Everyone is shirtless, and the tang of lemon fills the air.

Every seven days, we swab the decks and clean the chamber pots, mend the sails, and scour the pans.

Sailors bathe in the sea, scrub themselves with clove or lemon soap, and go fishing.

It is a day of rejuvenation and maintenance.

It soon became a ritual, culminating in a bonfire and drinking rum on the beach, card games and dice.

“I love to be at sea; but damn if I don’t also love being at anchor,” Holly sighs.

Teach sniffs the air. “You’ve been using those fancy soaps and face creams, Captain?”

I shrug, all innocence. One thing I haven’t left behind from my former life is my obsession with oils, lotions, soaps, and perfumes. Every time we’re in port, I send Holly and Domino to fetch whatever smells best.

The grin falls off my face when I spot Lieutenant Maynard, still tied to the mast. He’s now shirtless, and I have to avert my eyes to keep from staring at his tattoos.

“That man,” I mutter. “Is nothing but an eyesore.”

“Eh. He seems like a decent enough fellow to me.” Teach strokes the spokes of the helm.

“You’ve been conversing with our captive?”

“Aye. And you omitted the detail that you’d met him before. At the tavern, was it?” He clucks his tongue.

My face heats. You would think that for a seasoned murderer, I wouldn’t squirm when being called out on an insignificant omission.

Teach turns to me. “Look, Captain. His crew are fitting in nicely. They’re good men. The lieutenant ain’t done nothing, we might as well—”

“The only reason he hasn’t done anything is because he can’t cause trouble with his hands tied behind his back.”

Xandretta gives me a that’s-what-you-think look. “Holly’s been up here chatting all morning. Brought him tea.”

I bristle. “You should have told her not to do that.”

“You should have told us you intended to let your beau starve,” Xandretta says, all smugness and teeth.

I choke on air. “My what ?”

“He said he’s been looking for you. Thought of nothing else but you for years.” Her grin widens, one weathered hand still stroking Pyrrus.

My mouth snaps shut with an audible click. It’s all I can do not to grind my molars into dust. Heat blooms beneath my skin, hot and sour, and I curse the wind for not being strong enough to blow Robb Maynard right over the rail and off my ship.

“That unimaginable bastard.” Scowling, I stare at the tattooed man tied to the mast. “He must be joking.”

“Seemed pretty serious to me.” Xandretta picks her teeth with a long black nail.

Teach laughs. “I like him.”

I’m stomping away before either of them can say anything else, dark hair flying, straight toward the scallywag, Robb Maynard.

“What’s all this?” I demand.

He grins up at me, lazy and warm, white teeth and full lips. “Bee in your bonnet, Captain?”

I resist the urge to stamp my foot. Barely.

“See here, Lieutenant. I can’t have you distracting my crew, pretending to be friendly.”

“Who said I’m pretending?” He has a dimple when he smiles, only on the right side. “I hunted you. I almost gave up so many times, but the gods, the stars, the tides… something pushed me to keep going. Then in that tavern, there you were.”

My sailors are staring at us. “Stop stirring up trouble.”

“You’re the one making a scene,” Robb points out. “I’m merely sitting here, enjoying my day.”

“Argh!” I say aloud. “Keeping you alive is such a mistake.”

“Maybe for you. Not for me.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye, and I thoroughly hate it.

Holly approaches. “The first boat is heading ashore–”

“I’ll be on it,” I snap. “If only to get away from this raving lunatic.”

The lieutenant coughs, and it sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

“And what are we supposed to do with him? Leave him tied up here?” Holly smiles at Robb, and the sight of it grates upon my nerves.

“What else would we do?” Convinced she will follow orders and leave him be, I stalk away toward the rowboats.

“If he gets free, he’ll likely steal the ship. Surely you’ve thought of that.” Xandretta helps me untie one from its moorings.

I pause. No, I hadn’t considered that possibility. Hell. Suddenly undecided, I glance back at the captive.

Goddammit she’s right. Like a worm, he’ll just wriggle free. I imagine the ship–my new ship–sailing away with Robb standing at the helm, jauntily waving…

We’re going ashore, far from the trade routes. It would be terrible to be stranded here. On the other hand, this is our best chance to see what he’ll do when given the opportunity. If I bring him on land, will he run away, into the trees? Will he attempt to kill me, thus revealing his ruse?

I rub my eyebrows with one hand, a headache forming between them.

“Let him come ashore, Captain.” Domino is tying up her long platinum hair with a leather band. “It can’t be any worse than leaving him here.”

“Sure.” I clamber into the boat, scowling. “That’s what you think.”

The beach is alive with motion—barefoot pirates with rolled sleeves and salt-scrubbed skin string up nets between palms and drag lines into the shallows. Dozens of fish are gutted, ready for grilling. Someone’s tuning a fiddle; others unload jugs of spicy Runner’s Rum.

I vault over the side of the rowboat and wade through knee-deep water. Meanwhile, the crew finishes unloading gear and crates of barmbrack. Prudence and Mercy laugh, a sound so rare it makes me ache, and the beginnings of a bonfire lick toward the sky.

“Captain Blackbeard! Dice?”

I shake my head and continue on my way. The crew plays cards and other games all the time; tonight, I want one evening of silence. No crew. No noise. Just simple, sweet isolation.

The tide laps at my ankles as I follow the curve of the beach. A school of silver fish flits through the shallows, their scales flashing in the sun. The sand is a balm to my soul—powder soft between my toes, pearlescent and fine, warming my feet like heated sugar.

I sigh happily.

This is, of course, exactly when I hear his footsteps behind me.

He’d better be coming to kill me.

Fully expecting a knife in my back, gnashing my teeth, I stare at the darkening treeline and count to ten. “You.”

Robb sounds apologetic. “Holly felt sorry for me.”

“I can’t imagine why.” I turn back to him, and eye the anchor tattooed on his right shoulder, the ship tattooed on his bicep.

There are more tattoos on his chest, a swallow, a rose, a line.

His entire body is well-honed muscle, big and broad and solid.

Despite the relaxed, easy-going demeanor, I’ll bet a handful of gold that all his smooth talk and smiles are for show.

He’s probably a devil with a blade, just like William.

“Walk with me?” his chin jerks toward the sea.

Suspicious, I consider.

He lifts his wrists to show them still tightly wrapped. “Surely you’re not afraid of a stroll in broad daylight surrounded by your crew.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” I say coldly.

“Then you won’t mind me speaking my mind. Alone.”

There are at least a thousand things I’d rather be doing. Most notably, I’d rather have never met him at all. He’s distracting, an anomaly, a plague on my sanity. I’ve yet to get any meaningful information out of him.

And you know just how to remedy that, don’t you ?

The lieutenant falls into step beside me as we leave the crowd behind. I don’t speak, and he doesn’t push. The wind comes off the water, sweet and salty, the perfect temperature. Behind us, someone laughs too loudly. Cards slap against driftwood.

Finally, we reach the curve of the beach where the palms lean like drunks. It’s quieter here, but not out of sight. I stop walking.

Robb’s eyes flick to the beach beyond my shoulder, behind me. “Those women and children back there. Xandretta said you rescued them.”

“And?”

“I assumed the rumors were true, that you killed every person aboard. People say that Blackbeard leaves no survivors.”

“People are liars,” I say flatly. “And you know what happens when you assume.”

Waves crash on the shore. Rhythmic. Soothing. I cross my arms over my chest, as if it offers some measure of protection from him. From whatever he has planned. Alone in his presence, my heart thrashes like a bird in a cage; my palms itch and sweat.

“What do you want from me?”

He doesn’t look at me. “How much time do you have?”

“Do you always answer with jokes, or is that a ploy to make me like you?”

Robb exhales, studies me. “Fine. How did you come to be a pirate?”

“I’m not answering that. How did you come to be William’s right-hand man? ”

His hands are still bound, knotted in front of him, but his body is well-honed intention. When he takes one step closer, I don’t move. “At the tavern, when I saw you…”

Something flickers in his gaze. Indecision, maybe. But his silence gets to me. The look in his eyes. The turn of his mouth. I’d feel better if I were heavily armed.

Be sweet. Be alluring. That’s what Holly or Domino would do; hell, even Prudence is adept at masking her true feelings when needed. But apparently that capability eludes me, because instead, I give him the one thing no man’s ever earned from me.

The truth.