Page 23 of Maggie and the Pirate’s Son (Brides of Chattan #3)
Chapter Twenty-Two
T hough Bash wouldn’t have traded those first weeks of Maggie’s adventure for anything, transatlantic travel as guests of a naval captain was in many ways far superior to life aboard a pirate ship, largely because they were left entirely alone in their tiny berth at the stern of the vessel. If they wished to take the air, they were allowed to do so at their leisure. If they required food, the galley chef was more accommodating than he might have been to ordinary sailors.
But when the bells rang the watch, they had only to look at each other and smile. They could stay wrapped up in bed for days, and no one seemed to notice. It was perfection. Climbing the rigging with Maggie would always hold a special place in his memory, but, though he loved to be out in the fresh sea air working under a hot sun, Bash had never been more content to remain idle. He kept an eye on their course out of habit, but no one looked to him for orders.
In fact, the only person aboard the ship who noticed them with more than idle curiosity was Constantin. Every night they were invited to dine with the captain, and most evenings they accepted. He seemed intrigued by Bash’s knowledge of navigation and curious about his childhood.
He never once treated either of them as though they’d been anything more than prisoners aboard Auldfarrand’s Revenge, but his empathy left Bash feeling unsettled. His sire’s old nemesis was not at all the sea monster he’d expected, and Bash kept waiting to learn it was all some elaborate hoax, the rug pulled out from under him the moment he relaxed. Especially once he noticed the cages for homing pigeons, not unlike those aboard the Woebegone Whale .
At last, one night, about three weeks into their journey, Bash worked up the nerve to ask about the gold.
“Why did you keep chasing him? If you didn’t care about recovering it?” he demanded. “You used Walsh to lure us into an ambush, did you not?”
Constantin took his time wiping his mouth and placing his napkin upon the table. “Once the theft was written off, I wasn’t interested in Cornelius,” he admitted with a shrug. “I was interested in you.”
Bash stiffened, and Maggie took his hand. Was he about to learn he wasn’t actually the son of a pirate, but of a temporarily disgraced naval officer? It couldn’t be. He had Mad’s nose and jawline, and his grandfather’s before him, not the features of this fine-boned Englishman.
“You don’t remember me, do you, Bastian?”
Sitting up a little straighter, he searched Constantin’s face and all at once the years melted away, and his youth came rushing back—a fishing rod and basket weighed down with the day’s catch, an officer who’d been asking after the pirate Captain MacLeod.
“Freddy?” Bash asked, and Constantin grinned at him. “You said you were called Freddy. You wanted to take me back to Jamaica to live with my auntie. At least that’s what the adults whispered once you’d gone.” A warmth flooded him along with the memory and the sudden realization that all this time, someone somewhere had cared.
“I knew you were the sort who liked to listen at windows,” the captain teased, but then he turned sober. “They were afraid the lure of Jamaica was what turned your father into a pirate. They thought keeping you on Lewis would keep you far away from such a life.”
Bash snorted. “Until they handed me over to him for the price of a meal.”
“Mmm,” Constantin agreed.
So many questions rattled around in his brain. Had the man visited more than once? Had he met Bash’s mother? Maggie and Constantin continued to eat, waiting for him to process it all.
“This fish is very good,” Maggie murmured. “What did you say it’s called?”
“Tuna,” Constantin said, holding out the dish to offer her more.
How could they go on eating like the world wasn’t spinning off its axis?
“How did my mother know where the gold was buried?” Bash interrupted them.
Constantin smiled. “I’ve only theories on that score.”
Bash glanced at Maggie with wonder, and then back to the captain.
“Amoy—your mother—and I were acquainted,” he began. “Because I was besotted with your Auntie Savryna. They lived together in that little house, and I stayed with them often when I had leave. I wanted to make Ryna an officer’s wife, so she could travel the world with me. But she’s determined never to leave Kingston. ‘Every ship needs a port to come home to,’ she always says.”
“Ryna?” Maggie gasped, a look of amazement dawning on her face.
Constantin nodded. “She makes very fine tea, does she not? After Cornelius’s heist, I tracked him to Kingston, and then lost him in the town, so I went to Ryna. I noticed fresh dug earth beneath a dogwood tree, but I was young and hot-headed. I didn’t care about the money. The baron had more wealth than any man ought. Most of it was secure on my own ship. He wouldn’t miss the stolen chest. But I wanted the pirate who embarrassed me by stealing it. He brought dishonor to my name, and then he slipped through my fingers. By the time I swallowed my pride and dug up that hole, it was empty.”
“She moved it,” Maggie said, smirking.
Constantin smiled some private smile. “I never asked, and she never told me. But the next time I sailed to England, she requested I deliver a letter to her sister on Lewis.”
Bash sighed and Maggie squeezed his hand.
“I bore another such letter the day you and I met. We hadn’t yet learned of her passing. I’m so sorry, Bastian. I wish I’d fought harder. The one and only time I ever convinced Ryna to board a ship, we sailed to Lewis so she could bring you home. But we were too late.”
Bash shook his head and swallowed, smiling at the man who was sort of like an uncle to him. He owned no blame in the tragedies of Bash’s life, and how could anyone even call them tragic when they were steps along the journey that led to here and now and Maggie?
“Now I have a question for you,” Constantin said, turning his sharp gaze on Maggie.
“Me?” she squeaked, choking on a bite of tuna, and setting down her fork with unsteady hands. Under the table, Bash squeezed her knee as she’d done for him moments earlier.
Constantin smiled disarmingly. “What on earth compelled a young widow from Orkney to sneak aboard a pirate ship in the first place?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks reddened. “Well. I didn’t know it was a pirate ship, for one thing. Although, I was so eager to leave I might have snuck aboard anyway. I’d received distressing news from my father. Since my mourning period was over, he had found me a second husband and was coming to fetch me back to Inverness for the wedding.”
Bash bristled, even though he already knew the story.
Constantin raised his eyebrows in shock. “I see. And I take it the arrangement was not amenable?”
“It was not.”
“Do you suppose he’ll insist, when he learns of your return?”
Maggie scrunched her face. “He may well try,” she said, and Bash rubbed her neck and shoulder to comfort her. He’d like to see the man try. Maggie’s father or not, he wouldn’t allow it. “Though, I suppose it’s possible this interlude may have weakened the gentleman’s resolve, it will only have strengthened my father’s.”
“Then, if I may offer a solution?” Constantin asked.
“If your solution is impressment, my mother may object.”
The captain burst out laughing.
At sunset, under a cloudless sky, Bash gazed into the freckled face of his beautiful bride. He couldn’t believe his luck. Finally free from the chains of his childhood and the life he’d never asked for, there were riches to start afresh with the most perfect partner at his side.
She was willful and courageous and unflagging in her willingness to jump in up to her elbows and help a man out. She had even saved his ear, though he liked to tease her that it looked lopsided now. He couldn’t imagine a better friend or more suitable bride.
“Will you, Sebastian MacLeod, take Margaret Mary Mackintosh Budge, here present, to be your lawful wife, to live together according to God’s covenant? To love her, comfort her, and honor her, cleaving only unto her?” Reverend Glaser, the chaplain of the Pursuit asked.
“I will,” Bash replied, glancing away from Maggie for long enough to grin at Constantin, who winked.
“Very good,” the enthusiastic young chaplain said. “And will you, Margaret Mary Mackintosh Budge, take Sebastian MacLeod, here present, to be your lawful husband, to live together according to God’s covenant, cleaving only unto him?”
“Yes,” Maggie said, gazing up with adoration gleaming in her endless blue eyes. “Most reverently and unabashedly, I will.”
Bash laughed.
“Excellent,” Reverend Glaser said. “Is there a ring?”
“Not as yet,” Bash said, frowning and feeling a bit silly that he, a reformed pirate, didn’t have one on hand for emergency betrothals, not even one made of sea glass.
“Oh,” Constantin exclaimed, and they all turned to watch as the captain patted first his trouser pockets, then the breast of his jacket, from which he produced a simple gold band with flower-shaped filagree.
Bash stared at it and Constantin shrugged.
“It was my mother’s.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bash told him, struggling to restrain his emotions.
The chaplain nodded his head towards Maggie. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said softly.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Bash repeated, his voice cracking although he was far away from the twelve-year-old boy who was flogged under a sunset much like this one.
“I believe it’s customary at this point to kiss,” the reverend told them, rocking back on his heels and grinning ear to ear. So they did, and all the stars in the night sky came out to bless their union.