Page 28 of Found at Sea

“Captain,” he said, now only two feet away. “None of your concern, Captain.”

I scoffed before meeting his amused stare. “If you want people bending over backwards to please you, go back to the pleasure house. If you pay them enough, they’ll call you whatever you want.”

Even in the dark, I saw the moment realization hit him.

“You’re jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous,” I lied before tearing my gaze away from his. “I was only stating a fact.”

He moved closer, but I forced myself not to look at him. He touched my jaw, and I could no longer ignore him. When I looked back at him, he was only inches from my face—from my lips—and a smile lifted his mouth.

And his eyes…even in the poor lighting, I saw the paleness of the right one and the darkness of the left.

“Allow me to add another fact to yours,” he said, holding my chin a bit tighter. “Apart from the first day we came here, I have not visited the whores. I have walked the deck of my ship and cursedyou, boy, for I cannot seem to let go of the image of your face or the mossy green of your eyes.”

He didn’t sound particularly happy about it either.

“You are a curse unlike any other,” he then added before releasing my chin.

I searched his intimidatingly handsome face for answers. Answers as to why he was so infatuated with me. I tried to hide how pleased I was, too, at the fact he hadn’t returned to the brothel.

“If memory serves me well,” I said, not breaking eye contact with the grumpy captain. “It wasyouwho forced me onto this bloody ship. You have no standing to complain about it now.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He stepped closer, and I couldn’t stop myself from stepping back and bumping into the wooden rail. “It’s my ship and I can damn well do as I please. Even if it means hanging you up from the masts to teach you a lesson.”

I crossed my arms, not feeling any real threat in his words. Perhaps because there wasn’t one. The look in his eyes had remained gentle, despite the harsh tone he’d used.

“What is it you really want from me,Captain?” I asked, staring up into his mismatched eyes.

“I do not know,” he answered, more to himself than to me.

The shrouds from the masts swayed as another breeze blew around us, and I involuntarily shivered. The days might’ve been warm and tropical, but the nights could be cold.

“You’re chilled,” Captain Flynn observed.

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s only—”

“Gather your things,” he interrupted before turning and walking aft. “You’re joining me in my cabin for the night.”

“Pardon?” I called after him.

He stopped and regarded me with exasperation. “Do not make me repeat myself, Fletcher.”

Dumbfounded, I stared at his back as he continued toward his quarters located at the stern.

The night had certainly gone differently than I believed it would. I’d intended to enjoy some fresh air and sketch, and now I was journeying into the unexpected. When I saw the captain stop walking again, I quickly retrieved my journal, quill, and ink from the deck before trailing after him.

Something occurred to me, though, as I walked. It was the first time he’d ever called me by my name.