Page 29 of Scourge of the Shores

The Unsteady Anchor

She fit against him, and he hated it. Hated that he felt more at peace here, with her, than he ever had on the sea.

He sat against the rock wall behind the boulder, leaning Danna into his chest. The top of her head perched under his chin as they watched the waves.

She warmed his mind, body, and soul. He held her hands, his thumb smoothing the frayed edges of her bandages into place as if trying to seal his role in her life.

For a man who spent his life taking—gold, ships, enchantments—he had never wanted something as much as he wanted her.

He had kissed her like a man starved, like she was the last taste of something he’d never have again.

Because she could be.

She’d kissed him back—hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t called him a mistake, hadn’t spat his name like a curse.

And yet, he knew better than to hope.

The sea never gave without taking. It would take her from him or him from her. That was the way of the sea. A repeat of DeepMother’s unrequited love of the world. He’d seen it happen with his mother and father. It would happen to them, too, one way or another.

He pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in her moonflower scent.

To him, his kiss embodied both a promise to withstand any storm they would face together and a plea to come away with him.

A plea he was unsure she would answer, and a promise he would hold for no other.

He wasn’t going to press her, though; he knew her unspoken answer. She wasn’t going to leave Ma.

And he decided he couldn’t stay. His father’s words crashed against his chest like waves on stones. “ A man don’t break a vow—not even for love. ”

Love.

He had tried to stay away from the word, but he had already fallen. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He should have left when she told him to leave. But, he pressed her for her truth; he couldn’t stay away. He’d never wanted anything or anyone the way he wanted her.

She shifted and peered at him over her shoulder. The sunlight caught in her eyes, making them shimmer like the crests of waves.

“You’re stunning, Danna,” he whispered, leaning to taste her lips again. She turned into him and grazed his cheek. He wasn’t sure how he was going to leave her. How could he live with himself, knowing he’d left her?

“I wish this moment could last forever,” he said.

“It can if ye stay,” she murmured.

“I made a vow to my father,” he said, though the words felt hollower than they once had.

A vow was meant to be a man’s anchor, but it felt more like a chain to a destiny not his own.

He had always believed duty came first, that a promise was unshakable.

But then, he had never met someone like Danna.

Someone who made him wonder if a different life was worth betraying the only one he knew.

Danna had unraveled something in him, something deeper than blood and duty.

The sea had always been his home, but for the first time, he wondered if home could be a person instead.

His father had made a name for himself just like Chadwick, and Chadwick retired to the island. Could Robert also do the same? Would it be so wrong to want a different life?

“I’m a pirate,” he said more to himself. A pirate’s life was all he knew.

“Well, I’m a Chadwick,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, “but don’t feel like a Chadwick. He was a pirate, like ye, a man from the seas. I’m not a pirate. Never have been.” She closed her eyes. “Just a descendant livin’ off his name on an island.”

Robert tightened his arms around her. He felt a similar way. “I’m living off my father’s name, my father’s plans,” he said. To him, they meant something. It seemed to Danna that Chadwick was only a name. “But you could be a pirate if you wanted to,” he said. “I’ve seen you command a ship.”

She chuckled, but her body sank into him as if she didn’t believe him. “Tell me ‘bout yer father. Why was he so ruthless? Is yer crew the same? Would they ever accept me if I did go with ye one day?”

His heart leaped, and he gulped. She was thinking about it; that was more than he could have asked for.

“Well, he wasn’t ruthless in the way ye might think.

He didn’t cut throats for sport, but he knew the weight of power.

He told me once, ‘A pirate rules through fear or respect. I chose both.’” A deep breath filled his lungs.

“Sometimes, I wonder which I’ve chosen. Or if I’ll ever be more than his shadow. ”

Danna scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Shadow? That’s what ye think ye are? A shadow?”

He paused, not knowing how to answer her. “That’s what I am right now.”

She shook her head. “No, Robert. A shadow ain’t gonna stop Rosa from burnin’ this place to the ground. A shadow ain’t gonna put his own head on the line for a woman he ain’t even sure will have him.”

She sat up and turned to face him. “I know what it’s like, livin’ under the weight of a name. But ye’ve already proven ye’re more than just Robert Jaymes, son of a legend. Ye’re Robert Jaymes , the man who stood against the Pirate Kings for a woman and an island that ain’t even his.”

Her voice softened, but only a little. “Ye’re already more than yer father’s shadow. More than a pirate king. More than what they expect of ye.”

She brushed her fingers on his neck and kissed his cheek. “But ye gotta decide if ye believe that.”

The weight of her words settled deep in his bones.

He glanced at her with a gleam in his eye.

He had refused to call it love in the months prior; he tried to convince himself that it was something else—lust, admiration, or the thrill of the chase.

But none of those things made his chest ache when he thought about leaving.

None of them made him crave something more than the sea.

None of them had ever made him wish, just for a moment, that he could rewrite his destiny.

Maybe that was the real difference between him and his father. His father had never wavered—never let anyone stand between him and his ambition. Perhaps that was why the pirate kings had followed his namesake and why he would never have the same loyalty.

“Robert ‘The Ruthless’ Jaymes,” he murmured, deciding what to believe. “He brought the Pirate Kings of the North Sea together. Forty down to ten, mostly through ruthless negotiations.”

Danna gave him a sideways glance. “Ruthless negotiations?”

“Aye. He knew how to play ‘em all, talk fancy, impress ‘em with strategy and know-how.” Robert chuckled. “Told me once, it was like fishin’. Ye just need to know what bait to use and how to put it on the hook.”

Danna hummed, considering it. “Is that how ye got me?” she asked, her body still. “Callin me a cheat to earn passage on me ship? Being a tease at sea to keep me and yer men on our toes? Sounds like a bait and hook to me.”

His mouth twitched into a smile. “No. I just wanted to see how you truly felt about me. The bait was so my fellow pirates didn’t kill me in the process,” he paused with a grin. “And besides, I ain’t got you yet.”

“No?” she asked, lifting her chin. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Really?” he asked, tugging her head back and nuzzling her neck with his lips in play.

Danna laughed and swatted at him, but he only chuckled before capturing her lips again. She melted into him, fingers in his hair. He was intoxicated, addicted to Danna Chadwick. When she pulled back to breathe, he cupped her face.

With his voice hushed and raw, he whispered, “Until ye’re on me ship and in me bed, yer not mine to keep,” he murmured. “But if ye ever were, know I’d spend every day makin’ sure ye’d always wanna stay mine.”

She searched him—the shimmering crested waves in her eyes calmed to a still, crystal blue. The weight of unspoken words filled the space between them. The wind tugged strands of her ebony hair across her face, but neither moved to brush them away.

Something shifted in her gaze, as if she saw him—not as Robert “The Ruthless” Jaymes, Pirate King of the North Sea, but as the man beneath it all.

The one who had given her his heart without knowing if she’d take it.

The one who, for the first time in his life, was terrified of losing something he couldn’t steal back.

It was then that everything felt unbelievably real.

“Is that a vow?” she whispered, barely audible over the wind.

The space between them felt thin, fragile, but precious and true. The wind seemed to hold its breath. The sea stilled, waiting. Her hand lingered on his chest, right where his heart already betrayed him. He ran his thumb over her cheek.

“Aye, love.” His voice was raw, a vow spoken not just to her—but to the gods, the sea, and to whatever cruel fate had brought them together.

Her fingers curled around his shirt’s collar as she pulled him into a slow, knowing kiss to seal at least one of their possible futures.

* * *

Robert strode back into camp, forcing himself to move with purpose. But the weight of his captain’s coat felt heavier on his shoulders than ever before.

The scent of burning wood and salt filled the air, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the memory of her—the feel of her in his arms, the way her lips had yielded to his. He had spent his life chasing the wind, but for the first time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep running.

He heaved down on the makeshift log with the fire out in front. Otto, Thane, and Larc had nodded in greeting but left him alone. They knew better than to ask. Pirates didn’t talk about burdens. They either carried ‘em or threw ‘em overboard. They walked off to their tents, leaving Frank beside him.

"Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost," Frank muttered, tossing a scrap of bread his way. Robert caught it without thinking, but he didn’t eat.

The campfire crackled, casting shadows, but the warmth didn’t touch the cold settling in his chest. He hadn’t seen a ghost. He’d just held something he was never meant to hold.

"Tell me, Captain, what’s got that storm brewin’ in yer eyes?" Frank’s voice cut through the camp noise.

Robert didn’t answer. He glanced at Frank before returning his gaze to the fire. He ripped the bread with his teeth.

If he spoke, Frank would either see weakness or the stupidity of youth. He told Danna his greatest doubts, and she’d reassured him he was more than he thought. But in the camp, the pirates: they didn’t care. They went with the best and knocked the least overboard. He was alone.

“Just thinkin’, Frank,” he said.

“About the pretty one, aye?” Frank mumbled and went back to digging into his can of beans.

Robert’s gaze shifted to his Quartermaster. “What makes ye say that?”

“Ye two shared a mighty long gaze this mornin’, and then ye walk into the jungle when ye’re supposed to be sleepin’,” he said before placing a spoonful of black beans in his mouth.

“Just needed to clear me head,” Robert said, and grabbed a stick of salted meat and ripped it between his teeth as well.

Frank scratched his graying hair beneath his scarf and set the empty can down. He peered around before dropping his voice low.

"Ain’t the first time I seen that look in a man’s eyes."

Robert scoffed, trying to put his kingly facade back in place. "What look?"

Frank smirked, though there wasn’t much humor in it.

"The look of a man with an anchor he don’t know what to do with.

It’ll drag ye under if ye don’t handle it.

” He dusted off his hands. "Had a lass once—smart, fierce, stole me heart clean from me chest. But the sea don’t let go easy.

Turns out I ain’t the only one with a knife. ”

Robert studied him. Frank never talked about his past.

"Let me give ye a piece of advice, Captain." Frank met his gaze. "If ye want her, fight for her. If ye don’t, then let her go."

Robert swallowed hard, the weight of the warning pressing against his ribs.

Frank tossed a pebble into the fire, watching the embers spit. “But I tell ye this: there’s only two kinds of pirates, lad. The ones who fight, and the ones who wish they had."

He brushed off his coat. "Make sure ye figure out which one ye are before it’s too late. But ye best be careful, boy.”

His tone was even but edged with a chill. "The men ain’t blind, and they sure ain’t stupid . . . the ones that matter.”

Robert’s grip tightened around the salted meat.

“Ye ever seen a man gutted slow, just ‘cause he let his heart do the thinkin’? I seen it. If Rosa or Blackwood, Damien, one of the lot, catch wind that ye got more than just a bargain on yer mind,”—he dragged his thumb across his throat—“They’ll carve her up first and slit her pretty lil’ neck, just to watch ye break before blastin’ yer belly full of lead. ”

Robert’s blood turned ice cold as his gaze drifted to the fire.

His jaw clenched. He wanted her, and if they ever laid hands on her, he’d haunt them out of Tophet.

“How do I fight for her without them killin’ her?

” he muttered more to himself than Frank, since whatever happened with Frank’s lass left him a man who only gave warnings instead of taking risks.

But Frank chuckled and shook his head anyway, answering his question.

“Ye’re the son of Robert ‘The Ruthless’ Jaymes.

If ye’re even half the pirate he was, ye’ll figure it out.

Love makes men weak—but the ones worth followin’ make it their strongest blade.

Prove ye can wear yer father’s hat, and the world’ll be at yer feet. ”

Then, without waiting for a reply, Frank stood up and walked off toward his tent, leaving Robert alone with nothing but the fire and a new ache in his chest.