Page 22 of Scourge of the Shores

The Two Days

Robert leaned against the ship’s roll as he pulled the rope taut, unfurling the sails.

It hadn’t been long since he was part of the crew while his Father barked orders from the helm.

Danna’s orders, though, came as she stood on the gunwale with an arm wrapped around the rigging with Ethan at the helm.

He’d never seen a Captain give orders the way she did, staring off at sea, nothing between her and the waves.

Her legs adapted quickly as if she’d been born for the sea.

He found his gaze lingering on her curved leather-clad backside before he looked away.

She deserved his respect, as a fearless woman and Captain, and she’d have it.

He had one primary goal for the voyage: to know Danna Chadwick, be close to her, and figure out where she stood with him.

Claiming she might cheat them on the trade was a charade—he knew she wouldn’t.

But the lie gave him reason to join the voyage, and it earned him favor with his crew and the other pirate kings.

A performance, yes—but a useful one. It was a win-win situation.

He wrapped the rope around a cleat and pulled it tight. He felt her stare, her eyes on his back, and he peered over his shoulder to catch her looking away suddenly. A grin crept over his mouth as he moved to the next loose rope on the single-masted sloop ship.

The desire to talk to her won out, and he crossed the short deck and hopped up onto the gunwale beside her opposite the rigging.

She turned her face away from him. Maybe he wouldn’t like her as much if she gave in too easily. The game was fun.

“What’s your ship’s name?” he asked.

She looked off toward the sun, and he admired her profile with skin shimmering in the morning sun. “I said don’t talk, Jaymes.”

No title. Point made. He let it slide; it was her ship.

“That’s a little harsh, you think? Not to talk for two days? Well, four, if you count the return voyage. And really, five if you count the day to?—”

“ The Gale ,” she finally said, interrupting him. “Ship’s named The Gale .”

He peered over his shoulder and up at the square sail. “It’s a nice little sloop.” She took good care of her people and her ships. He liked that, but wondered if he didn’t stay, would she leave with him? Could she withstand life on a boat full of men?

She leered at him.

“Never seen a Captain give orders from a gunwale, though.” The fire lit in her eyes as she rose to his banter, and it captured his gaze. “Ye sure ye’re a Captain?” he asked with a smug grin.

“Ye sure ye’re a King?” she bit back.

“A King lets people talk or risk mutiny,” he said with an upward tick of his eyebrow. “Ye sure ye wanna silence half yer crew?”

Her jaw grew taut, and her eyes narrowed. “Another threat, Jaymes?”

“Just statin’ a fact, lass,” he said and leaned in.

He felt her shift. She was fighting—hard.

“I’m not a lass,” she gritted.

“Well, ye ain’t a man,” he laughed, but she didn’t. “How ‘bout this: Just statin’ a fact, Capt’n.”

The wind blew her loose shirt tight against her chest, and he dared not look down but kept his eyes locked on hers.

“That’s better,” she said, finally taking a half step closer to him to keep her balance on the ship’s sway. “Ye mutiny against me, ye’ll fail.”

“Don’t underestimate the unarmed,” he warned. His crew had no weapons on her ship, but that didn’t mean they lacked teeth. For a Captain, she was everything she needed to be—but to a pirate, power came in subtler forms. She still had much to learn.

“Threat or fact?” she asked, steadying herself against the force of the next wave.

“Always a fact,” he said, using the opportunity of the ship’s roll to slide closer to her.

Their hands brushed on the rope. He let his thumb run down the calluses of her fingers.

The calluses told him she was strong, and her title was well-earned.

He let his thumb linger, just enough to make her aware of him.

She didn’t move, but her grip tightened before he adjusted his hold above hers.

He peered down as she leaned back. “I’d never threaten you, Danna,” he whispered.

“Ye’ve already laid yer threats. That’s why ye’re on this ship,” she gritted.

“Is it now?” he asked in a drawled whisper, leaning in more as his gaze dropped to her lips briefly.

She held her breath. A question flickered in her eyes, but she was too cunning to ask it aloud.

He hated how fast he’d fallen for her, but fallen he had.

Visions of her and him commanding Storm Rider as Pirate Kings, together, flooded his mind.

She was a woman worthy to carry not only the Chadwick name but the name of his Jaymes heir.

She swallowed hard at his admiring gaze and soft smile. His grin deepened at her silent response.

“Aye, it is,” she finally said and jumped to the deck, yelling another order to check the hull for leaks.

He hopped down too, watching her head to the tiller. She was all sharp edges and command. He couldn’t get enough of her, making her a mystery he had to figure out.

A woman pirate. A woman Pirate King. A Chadwick.

She was every bit as tough and ruthless as any of his men. And she hadn’t shot him, not yet, at least. He wondered how far he could push her defenses.

Thane brushed past him. “Hate takin’ orders from a wench,” he muttered as he descended into the hold.

Robert brushed the comment aside for the moment as he considered Danna. Lucas would never let her leave the island. His dreams of her on Storm Rider were but a fantasy.

But maybe, if he stayed, she could be his if she wanted.

He pushed the thought away; it was too dangerous to entertain.

He made a vow to his father, one he intended to keep.

He shifted his weight against the bulwark and leaned an elbow on the gunwale as he watched Danna, trying to see what his future held.

Scotty walked past, shoving Robert’s shoulder. “Pirate scum,” he muttered. “Stay away from me Captain.”

Robert just chuckled. “Aye, matey.” He had no intention of staying away. He had at most five days with her away from the island. Five beautiful days of pure alone time. Well, not counting the four other men on the sloop.

Ethan shot him a deadly glare like a hound guarding its master.

The ship was small, which was both to his advantage and detriment—too many listening ears and watchful eyes.

And Thane calling her a “wench” was more than just a passing statement.

That was a threat, and he had to watch himself.

He was still earning his men’s trust with his father gone.

As he thought, his gaze lingered on her until the pull of the sea dragged it away and settled him into the rhythm of the voyage.

He knew the tides, learned how to read the wind, but her? He had no map for her. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted one. For if these five days went well, he might just end up convincing himself to stay on that blasted island and give up his father’s legacy altogether.

* * *

Thane and Ethan went below deck to catch some shuteye. Robert attended to the sails, adjusting for the wind as Danna manned the tiller. Scotty and Otto attended to the cargo hold’s needs.

Robert fulfilled his duty to the best of his ability, which was excellent, just as his father had taught him.

He noticed Danna’s watchful gaze and the slight grin of pride in his knowledge of the ship.

When the wind hit a steady current, he finished securing the rigging and hopped up beside her at the stern.

“This is for helmsmen only,” she said, cutting him off before he could speak, but he didn’t leave. He leaned on the massive tiller but was careful not to move it.

“I only came to lend a hand if it got to be too much for you. A sloop’s not like a ship with a wheel.”

“I’m just as good as ye,” she spat.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “But holding a wheel is much easier than holding a tiller.”

“Strange. Ye sounded like a proper seadog last night. Now ye talk like a lad courtin’ a lass,” she said, gripping the tiller a little harder.

“Men ain’t here. It’s just you and me,” he said and softened his gaze.

“Gut me now.” She scoffed and turned her face away from him.

“You’re a natural at sailing,” he said. The compliment visibly shook her before she peered at him.

“Aye, I know,” she said. “Did ye doubt me?”

He grinned at her wit and confidence. “Well, you’re good for an islander,” he added as a playful retort.

She laughed in disdain. “What’d ye do different, O’great sea dog?”

“Well . . . since you asked,” he said and walked around to her side of the tiller. He stood behind her while her neck craned to follow him. He wrapped his hand around her grip and moved it closer to the tiller’s end.

“What’re ye doin’?” she protested, but he was stronger and shuffled her forward.

“Helping,” he said. “See?” He came around to face her again. “It’s a lot easier to manage the tiller here, rather than there.” He pointed to where she had choked up on the long wooden handle.

Her grip tightened out of stubbornness. But after a moment, she glanced at where his hand had adjusted hers. It was about as much of a concession as he’d receive.

“Ye don’t have to thank me,” he said with a small caress over her fingers.

“I wasn’t gonna,” she said, pulling her hand from beneath his after letting him linger a moment too long.

“Well, that’s not very nice,” he teased, letting her replace her grip.

“Niceties don’t suit either of us,” She threw his words in his face, but he only chuckled in amusement.

“I agree, but you realize why I wanted to come, aye?” he asked, stepping a little closer to her, invading her space, gauging her shallow breaths and the flush of rose on her cheeks.

Her jaw grew taut, and her muscles tightened. He affected her, that was certain—whether discomfort or desire, he wasn’t sure. Though he’d watched her long enough to know she didn’t rattle easily, and he’d assumed she had reciprocal feelings when they’d walked the shore. Maybe he was wrong.