Page 18
“Ah well, lost opportunities.” With her knees threatening to falter, she looked down and shuffled a few papers on the desk.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I have some reading to do. You should find yourself another cabin and rest your head; that lump on your brow must be aching rather fiercely by now.”
“Something is starting to ache, but it is not my brow.” He was looking at her in a way that made her bones feel as though they were melting down into her toes.
Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him walk slowly toward her, stopping so close she was forced to arch back against the desk to avoid contact. He reached past her shoulder and snatched up the bottle of rum.
“I will be in the navigator’s cabin if you need … or want me.”
Once outside in the gloom of the companionway, Fonteyne leaned against the bulkhead for a moment and commended himself on his restraint.
It was true, his head was pounding. His thumb was aching from being dislocated and summarily wrenched back into place earlier.
It wasn’t often a woman stood toe to toe with him and matched his verbal barbs thrust for thrust. In fact, it never happened.
Nor did it ever happen that a woman made him feel pangs of guilt for his custom of making love to them and walking out the door without a backward glance.
He shook his head, but that only made it pound harder.
He pushed away from the post and walked toward the ladderway at the end of the short corridor.
His intention was to go up on deck where the fresh air would clear his head and blow away the images of Rose St. Clare stretched out naked on the bed, the moonlight streaming through the open window making her eyes shine and the dampness on her body gleam.
The ship took a gentle roll to port and Fonteyne’s distraction made him lose his balance.
His shoulder struck the wood and he lurched forward, stretching out a hand to grope for something to brace himself with.
His head struck the slanted wooden overhang of the ladderway instead and the compounded explosion of pain made him pitch forward and land face down on the planks.
When the cabin door shut behind him, Rose released her breath on a curse.
Thankfully he had left before seeing the rush of heated blood that flooded her cheeks, but Rose could feel it.
Unaccustomed to blushing for any reason, she snarled and threw herself into the captain’s chair hard enough to make it tip precariously back on two legs.
She was still fuming at his insolence several minutes later when she heard a tapping on the door and barked, “What is it?”
Stubb poked his head around the door. “No need to shout like a fishmonger. If ye be in a foul mood, tell me now an’ I’ll go t’row myself over the side to spare ye the trouble.”
“I am not in a foul mood. And the day you actually do throw yourself overboard instead of merely threatening to do so, will be the day I run the length of the ship naked.”
The little man chuckled. “Some might be willing to pay good coin for me to take the swim in order to see that.”
“And how would you spend it from inside a shark’s belly?”
“Fair point.” He came all the way into the cabin and hopped up into a chair.
“Wind be comin’ up sharp, so we should be clear o’ the Spanish shippin’ lines by nightfall.
Still a mite close fer comfort since we be not egg-zactly gambolling about in three small carracks.
Mayhap if we only had Lafitte’s brothel fer company we could slink past any curious eyes, but ho!
Look where we be.” He waved a hand. “Only on board one o’ the most well know’d privateer ships in the Caribbee.
Every brigand with a full ballsack would be after chasing us. ”
“If we get pushed into a fight, will the mast hold?”
“We wrapped a hundred feet o’ tarred cable around an’ drove in some bolts.
She’ll hold. The way his sails be set, we could cope with jest the two masts if it came to that.
But it won’t.” He leaned forward and grinned.
“Coz damned if she don’t ‘ave two extra masts tucked down in the hold! Take us a day to winch the old one out an’ fit the new one in. ”
“Have you found us a safe harbor?”
“Aye. Serpent’s Tail. Dead east.”
Rose nodded. “Signal the other two ships.”
“Done it already.”
Her mouth flattened. “Which rail would you like to be tossed over?”
Stubb cackled and hopped down off the chair. He glanced around the cabin seeming to notice for the first time they were alone. “Ho! Did ye finally toss him overboard?”
“I was tempted, believe me. But no. I merely told him to find another cabin and leave me to my reading.”
“Ye let the bastard wander off on his own? On a ship he knows better than the back o’ his hand?”
Rose swore and pushed to her feet. She was a few steps behind Stubb as he dashed out into the corridor, but they did not have to go far before they found Sebastien Fonteyne.
He was lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the ladderway, his face awash in fresh blood, the bottle of rum smashed on the deck beside him.
Table of Contents
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- Page 18 (Reading here)
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