Page 14 of Scourge of the Shores

“And ye could still kill her,” he said. He placed his hand on Danna’s hand, holding the pistol. A loud scream bolted through the village. Lucas jolted in place. The desire to stay and the duty to go fought in his grimace.

Danna licked her dry lip before nodding to him to go.

Lucas’s frown deepened as he pressed the pistol into her belly—his hand over hers. “Use it if ye need to, and if ye can’t, yell as loudly as ye can. Scotty’s comin’ soon.”

Lucas left after taking one more pointed glare at Robert with a pointed finger in the pirate’s face. No more words were needed.

Danna’s eyes slid over to Robert, who was lifting the torn leg of her trousers.

“That’s a nasty gash,” Robert muttered.

All the horrible things Robert could do to her flashed in her mind.

“Don’t shoot me now, Danna.” He moved the gun to her other side and began stitching up her leg.

Pricks of pain shot through her. Robert pulled out a small bottle of whiskey from his undershirt and poured it on the wound.

Some splashed onto his thumb, and he rubbed against her unbroken skin, lingering too long.

“If you’re tryin’ to make me trust ye, stoppin’ that might help.” The statement grated on her throat.

A slow grin pulled at his lips. “Just workin’, Danna.”

His fingers grazed her thigh, steadying her leg as he worked. She hissed—not from pain.

“Don’t flinch. Or I’ll have to start over.”

She expected him to treat her carelessly, but his brow furrowed as if he were focusing on his task with purpose.

“Ye enjoy this—me needin’ yer help?” she rasped.

“Not as much as you hate it.”

His gaze slid to her, locking their eyes.

“If you wanted me dead, ye could do it now.”

He didn’t pause stitching as he returned to his task. “But I’m here, ain’t I? Stitchin’ you up instead.”

“Why?”

His gaze flicked to hers, dark and questioning. “Ask yourself why you’re lettin’ me.”

Sweat beaded at her brow as she forced herself to focus on his profile to keep the world from spinning out of focus.

Her gaze flicked to his hands—steady, precise.

If it weren’t for him, she’d be bleeding out already.

She hated that fact, but she hated more the part of her that wasn’t afraid of him.

“I don’t trust ye,” she reassured herself.

“I know.” His voice was quiet. But her ears felt full, like they didn’t quite work the way they were supposed to.

“You ain’t the first I’ve stitched up,” he said after a while. She didn’t realize her eyelids drooped and her hands and feet were numb. “But you’re the only one I cared might not pull through,” he whispered.

It took a moment for her to process what he was saying, but she spurted, “Ye just like what savin’ me gets ye.”

His eyebrows popped up in surprise. “I thought you’d passed out,” he muttered. A blush came to his cheeks as if she wasn’t supposed to hear his muttering. His gaze returned to his task.

“Maybe I just like saving you, too,” he murmured with a grin. “Both can be true, lass.”

The agony seared its mark down her leg. Danna’s face contorted, but she focused on breathing. No screams. It seemed Robert was talking, but his murmurs ran together, and her attention focused on suppressing the returning nausea.

He tied the last knot, fingers brushing her skin—a second too long. Their eyes met. Despite her blurred vision, his usual smirk was gone.

“All done.” Robert’s voice cut through after a while, and he loosened the tourniquet.

His voice was low. Steady. Concerned.

“And we are good.” His words sounded in a well.

She blinked, not really hearing anything, but the one thing she did process was that the concern in his voice meant care. And care meant risk, and she didn’t take risks on pirates.

“Danna?” he asked. Genuine. Worried.

Because if he cared, maybe it wasn’t a game of power. And maybe—she might start to care in return.

Danna looked at his hazy image before rolling her head toward the fire.

She ached; her ribs screamed with every breath; her body was tired.

The fire faded fast in her vision. Footsteps thudded far off.

Sudden shouts muffled. A sharp, spiced scent filled her nostrils.

Someone lifted her in the air. The door creaked and slammed.

The stars dimly sparkled. A soft bounce lulled her into a trance.

The creak of a door spiked her alertness.

A deep voice tethered her to the world she might have known once.

Ma’s hums drifted in and out of her dreams, where Robert appeared and stroked her cheek and pulled her close, his breath hot on her lips.

His bright smile and smoldering eyes chased away nightmares.

* * *

A deep throb pounded in her temples, and her eyes flew open to the bright daylight streaming through the open window. She sat up but collapsed back in a silent gasp of pain.

Ma’s groggy voice broke through. “Danna, you were injured. That nice newcomer brought you here. He did a good stitch job, not as good as I would have done.”

Danna rolled up in anguish, placing all her weight on her elbows. Her blurry vision settled as her stare intensified on her leg. Robert hadn’t done a bad job. It was actually rather good.

“Robert?” she asked in a rush under her breath, but thinned her lips at her blunder. “Captain Jaymes,” she muttered.

“He is outside,” Ma answered, sweeping Danna’s sweaty hair back from her forehead.

“Captain Chadwick?” A groggy response came a few moments later.

“Danna?” Lucas’s voice sounded outside as well.

“I’m fine,” she said through a heavy haze. “Captain Jaymes, ye’d better get back to yer shipmates,” she rasped, “or they’ll think ye abandoned them.”

“Aye, Captain.” Robert’s voice was low and rough. “As soon as I know you’re well.”

A small smile formed on Danna’s lips as she lay back down, knowing two men cared for her—Lucas, her father figure, and Robert, a Pirate King. Well, maybe just a man parading as a Pirate King.

Her eyelids drooped again. His scent—spiced rum and sea breeze—lingered too close. She shouldn’t feel safe with him. But she did.

Danna rolled over as best she could and kissed Ma’s cheek.

She returned to her back and closed her eyes.

Maybe Robert spoke straight. Maybe he did admire her.

Maybe she could trust him. Or maybe he was just using her to get something out of her.

Either way, if trusting him didn’t kill her, wanting to might.