Page 28 of Scourge of the Shores

“Don’t matter ‘bout him. Ye’re what matters,” Lucas said.

“Do ye think it’s odd, Lucas, that with all those pirates, they haven’t attacked us, even after I walked away from Robert?” She looked up at him. “Robert’s keepin’ them from attackin’. If that ain’t worthy, I don’t know what is.”

Lucas pressed his lips thin. “He ain’t the one from the prophecy, Danna. He may be better than the rest, and he’s got some honor for a pirate, but he ain’t stayin’. He ain’t the one.”

“Even if I believed yer prophecy?—”

“Stop, Danna.” Lucas sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Ain’t nothin’ ye can do ‘bout it now.”

She held her breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means ye can’t change what’s already happened,” he said. “And ye can’t follow him, either.”

Danna’s chest tightened. “I know that.”

Lucas nodded, but his voice softened. “Aye. I know ye do.” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “But knowin’ and acceptin’ are two different things.”

Curse Lucas. He’d read her mind. Her throat burned, and she had to look away.

“Ye ain’t gotta figure it all out tonight,” Lucas said. “Take the day. Let yer hands heal. Get yer mind right.”

She shrugged. “My mind’s right.”

Lucas shook his head and put a hand on each arm. “Go to the Northern Boulder. Sit down. Remember why ye love the island. Remember yer legacy, yer Father, the reason ye’re here.” He pulled her in close and rubbed her back. “That place has always given ye clarity.”

She lowered her forehead to Lucas’s shoulder and pulled her fisted hands under her chin before murmuring an “Aye” in agreement.

He released her and sent her away.

Going over land was faster.

But instead, she took the western shore, where the waves stretched, endless and wild. Where the salt clung to her skin like something she’d never wash away. Where Robert walked with her.

Her body tensed, hating that now this beautiful shore would hold his memory.

She had never asked him to stay, but it was something she just knew.

He was a Pirate King. He wouldn’t give it up for her, and maybe he couldn’t without letting the whole island get slaughtered and looted.

No, the sea would take him back; the DeepMother’s appetite was always relentless.

The sea had taken too much for her to even think about wanting more.

The sea had even taken a piece of her, too. And she wasn’t sure it would ever return her hope.

Lucas was wrong.

Clarity might bring peace of mind, but it wouldn't quiet the ache in her heart. It never had. It never would.

* * *

Danna climbed the short rise to the top of the boulder and froze. A pirate sat square in the center of it.

She swallowed hard. Her breath hitched before she could stop it.

Not just any pirate.

Robert.

"Ye’re on me rock," she spat, forcing steel into her voice.

He peered over his shoulder. “Yer rock?” he asked, standing up.

Why did it have to be him?

“This is me place, not yers,” she said with her heart hammering in her chest. “Leave. Now. Get out.” It was more of a plea than a command.

He drew closer, and she sidestepped him. But instead of leaving, he squared his shoulders and stepped into her space.

"Ye want me gone, but I see the way ye look at me, Danna. If I’m just another pirate to ye, say the word, and I’ll never touch ye again."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Robert waited. He knew.

"Ye’re just..." she started with disdain in her tone, but the words stuck in her throat. She forced herself to meet his gaze, burning into hers.

"Ye’re just another pirate to me," she finally bit out, the words tasting bitter. Her eyes searched the depths of his soul—deep, dark, mysterious, and sure. He didn’t believe her. She had to do better.

“Ye’re just another pirate to me.” The words came out empty, brittle. He saw straight through them.

She swallowed hard and repeated herself a third time, but it came out a whisper, “Ye’re just another pirate to me.”

"Really?" he murmured, stepping closer.

Danna took a step back.

He followed.

Another step.

His fingers trailed the length of her arm, and she shivered.

“Ye’re just,” she started, her defenses failing.

Her gaze fell to his lips. She didn’t understand the pull to him.

He could be playing her. Could be trying to—what?

Kill her? He’d already saved her three times.

What was the point? If Tophet claimed her, his worries would be over—Cain or not.

Take the island, take the gold, and be on his merry way.

If he was only after glory with Cain, why risk his life to be on her ship and save her life?

If she died, it didn’t matter; Lucas had already agreed to the bargain.

But there he was, standing before her, trailing his fingers up her neck.

He lifted her face to his, forcing her to look him in the eye.

Fear rooted her to the spot. What was he doing?

For what purpose? The last excuse she could muster came front of mind: it was a wager between the pirate kings—see if he could claim Danna Chadwick.

He said he wasn’t playing any games, but pirates lie.

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stepped closer. The closeness of his body felt right. It felt like everything she needed, wanted.

“If I’m just another pirate to you,” he whispered slowly, his breath on her lips. “Tell me again, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Ye’re just,” she started, but couldn’t finish.

Instead, she stepped back. Her breath hitched again and again. She scanned her surroundings. “Is this some barter, wager?”

“No, Danna.” He stepped back, his hands thrown to his side.

“If the pirate kings knew I was here with you, of all the people on this island, they’d string me up faster than a traitor at a hangman’s noose.

If I just needed a good lay, I could pay for one at Rogue’s Isle.

I wouldn’t need to give up enchantments or risk my life?—”

“Then why? Why are ye here?”

“Why am I here?” he asked with a sad chuckle, his words ending in a whisper. His gaze hit the rock, searching it for words.

Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own.

“If ye had the chance to sail away, just once, would ye take it?”

His eyes penetrated her soul. He saw her, knew her answer before she spoke it. There was no use in hiding it. He’d seen it on the sloop, stated it too many times, and asked her in the barn. She couldn’t lie to him or herself any longer.

“I wanna be on the sea.” Her words were meek, as if feeding him the truth to see if he dashed it against the rock, but the confession felt good.

Robert didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. He only nodded as if he understood.

Salted wind tangled her hair as her gaze wandered to the endless blue. Her voice wavered, not from fear—but longing.

"Sometimes I stand right here, starin’ at that horizon . . . and I hate it."

Robert’s brow lifted.

"Hate it?" he echoed, his voice soft, coaxing.

"Aye," she said, jaw tightening. "Because the DeepMother whispers to me. Tells me there’s more. But when I turn around,” she motioned toward the island, “all I see’s everything I know.”

Her gaze flicked back to the sea. "The island needs me. Ma needs me. I’ve got a role to fill, a name to uphold. Chadwicks don’t leave. But . . .”

She trailed off, forcing the words down. She shouldn’t say it—not to him.

But Robert didn’t move. His stillness wasn’t cold; it was waiting. Like he knew the tide would bring the truth in its own time.

"But?" he asked.

Her eyes lit beneath the sunlight as she gazed at the waves. The soft lap against the boulder gave rhythm to her voice. “I’ve dreams of sailin’ beneath the sun and the open skies. Our ships’re old, and we don’t venture far except to trade.”

She walked past him to the middle of the boulder—flat and wide as if smashed by the gods to give lovers of the sea a place to behold its glory.

Her mouth should’ve shut, but she kept going in whatever sense of safety she felt in his presence, speaking the long desire of her heart.

“Sometimes I wish I could sail away from all the pain here.” She hesitated to say more, but Robert’s presence calmed her. And if anything, he’d be gone in a few months, carrying her secrets away. “I feel lost since our walk on the shore. . . like a pirate without a treasure map.”

Robert approached and stood beside her, facing her. “My father’d tell me, ‘Sometimes the greatest treasure’s right before your very eyes.’”

His gaze didn’t drift to the sea. It stayed fixed on her while she kept her eyes on the horizon, feeling his gaze on her cheek.

"And what if the treasure ain’t gold?" she whispered.

Robert leaned in just enough for his voice to drop between them.

"Then it’s worth fightin’ for all the more."

Danna didn’t answer. She kept her gaze locked on the waves.

But the truth gnawed at her.

“Then, maybe the treasure’s killin’ Cain,” she said with a soft shrug, ignoring his implications. “Maybe the treasure’s gainin’ yer and the pirate kings’ aid.”

She took in a deep breath; her voice wavered. “But why’s it feel like I only exist ‘cause Cain’s alive?”

Robert stood in front of her, drawing her attention. “Because you’re denying yourself for something that doesn’t call you.”

She hated crying in front of anyone, but tears slipped free before she could stop them. She turned her head—refusing to let him see her like this. But his hand was already there, rough yet gentle, brushing a tear away with his thumb.

“Then I guess I’ll never get peace,” she said, still not wanting him to see her tears.

He stepped closer. “You asked me why I was here.” His thumb lingered against her cheek, lifting her face to his. “Ye give me peace, Danna.”

She shook her head. “Ye barely know me.”

“I know enough,” he murmured in a raw intensity as he lowered his forehead to hers.

She didn’t pull back. She didn’t push him away. He slid the hand on her cheek to her nape and, with the other, pressed her closer to him, but she made no move to lift her lips.

“I know that if you came with me,” he whispered. “I’d give you the world.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “But I can’t come with ye,” she said, lifting her fingers to brush his chest. “Me place’s here. Ma’s here.”

Robert furrowed his brow at hearing her struggle and leaned in at her touch. “Come with me after we kill Cain. Ervin’s an able leader; he’ll take good care of Ma. Leave the island with him; come with me.”

His breath warmed her lips. His scent, a mix of salt and spice, wrapped around her like a tide pulling her under. Her fingers trembled against his chest. She could shove him away. No, she needed to push him away. She needed to end this now. Cut the string before it unraveled, just like Lucas said.

But his voice was in her ear, weaving a different kind of truth: “Ye give me peace.”

Peace.

A thing she had never truly known. Not with Cain. Not even with herself.

Her fingers spread wide against his chest, her fingertips brushing the exposed skin. If she kissed him back, what would she be admitting? That she wanted this? That she wanted him?

She lifted her gaze to meet his. She did want him and the sea, and Ma to be healed and the island to have a leader and be safe—all of it.

Robert’s lips brushed hers—testing, waiting.

"Don’t make me sail away wonderin’ what ye wanted,” he murmured. "Don’t make me think the sea’s too wide between us."

Her breath hitched. The world shrank to this moment, to the warmth of his mouth hovering over hers. Everything felt right with him. He was the one, though everything told her he wasn’t.

“Robert,” she whispered, unsure if she wanted him to stop or continue.

"From the moment I first saw ye on that shore, I knew ye’d take me heart,” he whispered against her lips. His grip tightened on her nape. “Take it, Danna.”

Her hands pressed against his chest, but she didn’t push. Not this time. Though, she could still turn back. Push him away. Step away. That’s all she had to do.

But she couldn’t move.

He waited, lips hovering over hers. He wasn’t claiming, yet letting her choose what she wanted to give. “Tell me to stop, Danna,” he whispered. “Tell me to leave ye alone, and I will.”

But she didn’t. For once, she wanted something for herself.

She lifted her chin just enough for him to do what they both knew she wanted.

He kissed her—fully, deeply—with the taste of spice and promise—a promise she couldn’t accept but wanted all the same.

Her reckless heartbeat pounded in her chest. His arms caged her doubts, wrapping around her like an anchor of freedom meant solely for her.

The world slipped away with the ebbing tide.

The world could burn, Cain could rise—but here, with his lips on hers, none of it mattered.

She yielded to him. Her hands that had pressed against his chest in silent protest soon slid to wrap around his neck.

He drew her in closer; the breeze at his back enclosed them as if the sea wanted them together, the DeepMother’s desire for love fulfilled.

The wind roared in blessings as his fingers tangled in her hair and grazed the silk-smooth skin of her cheek.

A satisfied breath escaped her before he dove for more. She realized it wasn’t surrender; it was choosing. For once, she’d chosen for herself. Her hands tugged at his hair, and soon, they were both lost in the moment, swept under by the currents, and drowning in each other’s embrace.

But even as the world felt right for once, the sea whispered the DeepMother’s tragic warning.

Nothing good ever lasted, for the goddess, too, was burdened with the world’s hate and ached for something beautiful in a sea full of storms. Robert’s kiss pledged both the tide’s return and its inevitable retreat.