Care and Feeding of Pirates (23 page)

Christopher was speaking again. "We'll go to
Charleston soon."

Would they? Her home in Charleston seemed
very far away and unimportant. She turned her head on Christopher's
shoulder to look up at him. "There's no wind. Will we row
there?"

He chuckled. "If we have to."

"I don't want to go back to Charleston." The
words sighed from her lips. "Not just yet."

"You belong there, love. You'll have
featherbeds and gardens and all the water you can drink."

"I belong with you."

Christopher looked down at her, his head
silhouetted against the fading twilight. "You must have
sunstroke."

"It's dark," Honoria pointed out.

Christopher closed his arms around her,
breathing into her hair. "I don't want to be the death of you,
sweetheart."

"I come from sturdy stock, Mr. Pirate. Look
at my brother."

"Mmph. That doesn't inspire confidence."

Thinking of James, as usual, brought a mixed
wave of sorrow and anger. "James went a little mad with vengeance I
think, before he met Diana. Paul was mad with it too, and the
saddest thing is, Paul never got his revenge. He died before he
could discover the identity of the man who'd killed his wife. James
had to finish the quest for him."

"I know," Christopher said.

"I suppose the story is all over the
Atlantic." Last year, James had at last tracked down a pirate
called Black Jack Mallory, who'd confessed to murdering Paul's wife
and daughters. James had met Diana on this hunt, and she'd had much
to do with it.

Christopher said, "I know because I was the
man who told James who killed Paul's wife."

Honoria remained still for a full minute, not
quite certain what she had just heard. Christopher's words vanished
against the quiet of the night, the muted speech of the men in the
bow, the soft lapping of waves.

She sat up, her dry throat slow to find
words. "You . . .?"

"That was why James saved me from the
hangman's noose. Gratitude for the information." Christopher
frowned. "You didn't know this?"

Honoria's eyes burned, a tight ache twisting
inside her. "No, of course I didn't." Her voice rose, and sailors
lifted their heads, looking their way. "James never tells me
anything. Neither do you, apparently. How the devil did
you
find out?"

"I learned the information by chance while I
was looking for the
Rosa Bonita.
The man who told me didn't
realize what he was telling me, or what he knew. I put the pieces
together, and gave the information to Ardmore when he arrested
me."

Honoria clenched her fists. "You bargained
for your life with it?
He
bargained with it?"

"I didn't bargain," Christopher said. "I just
told him. James never said a word, not even a thank you. I had no
idea he was going to save me until they put me into the boat
instead of taking me to the scaffold."

Honoria faced him, fists pressed to her
abdomen. Despite her rage, she believed him. It would be like James
not
to tell Christopher he'd saved his life until after the
deed was done. She could imagine her brother taking in
Christopher's story, green eyes empty of everything, then walking
away without a word.

"You didn't tell
me
," she said.

"At the time I learned the information, I was
a long way from you, and I had many other things to worry about. I
assumed James would tell you after I was dead. But he never
did?"

"No." She breathed heavily, surprised fire
didn't shoot out of her mouth. "He never told me you knew about
Black Jack Mallory, and he never told me he'd set you free."

"I suppose he didn't want to scare away his
prey."

"Well,
I
wasn't his prey," Honoria
said. "I'm his sister."

The rising moon laced silver through
Christopher's wheat-colored hair. "I feel very sorry for Ardmore
when you catch up to him."

"You still might have told me," Honoria said,
wanting to be angry with him. She couldn't reach James, but
Christopher was right in front of her.

"When you walked into my cell, I had other
things on my mind." Christopher pulled her back down into his arms,
his body warm even through her chill anger. "I wanted my last
memories to be very, very good. I remember what you said to me
before you left. I hung on to that, to take to my grave."

Honoria remembered too. Her heart in her
throat, still feeling the bite of his seed inside her, she'd said
clearly,
I love you, Christopher.

Christopher now wrapped his arms around her
and smoothed his hand across her belly. "I love you too," he
murmured.

Honoria swallowed, hot tears pricking her
eyes. Emotions swirled inside her--anger, grief, heartache,
gratitude for Christopher and his warm comfort, rage at James.

Honoria might be able to forgive James for
not telling her he'd saved Christopher's life--he'd had no idea
what Christopher was to her--but she could not forgive him
withholding anything concerning Paul.

As she closed her eyes, images of Paul came
all too vividly--his infectious laugh, his crisp dark hair that
gleamed blue-black in the sunshine, his drawling voice as he teased
the life out of his sister. She and Paul had been partners in crime
against big brother James, mocking him behind his back, standing in
a united front against his fury.

That had been so long ago. And yet Honoria
felt as though, if she stretched out her hand, she'd find Paul at
the end of her reach.

Honoria had watched Paul change in the space
of a day from carefree young man to grieving, empty shell. She'd
been with Paul when he'd received the news that his wife and
children had been killed on their voyage between Charleston and
Virginia.

Honoria had held Paul while he'd cried and
cried. She'd cried too, for the gentle brown-haired lady he'd
married, and his two little daughters, her nieces, the joy of their
lives.

James had learned of the murders and returned
home, stone-faced and grim. When Paul had declared he would find
the man who'd done this, whatever the cost, James had nodded in
quiet agreement. Both James and Honoria had stood firmly beside
Paul when he'd decided to turn pirate hunter, a decision that had
ultimately led to his death.

A delicate breeze ruffled the curls on
Honoria's forehead, soothing her aching head. After Paul's death,
James had shut Honoria out of his life, not sharing his grief, his
need for vengeance, anything. James had never understood that after
Paul had died, Honoria had needed James the most. Grief had driven
them apart, and though things had improved since James had married
Diana, he and Honoria hadn't yet reconciled.

The breeze strengthened. Honoria closed her
burning eyes and tried to put aside her hurt, tried to think only
of the cool wind lifting the hair on her neck . . .

Her eyes snapped open at the same time
Christopher shoved her aside and leapt to his feet. The ship rocked
heavily, the topsails of the foremast, always ready, catching the
gust.

"Wind's up!" Christopher shouted, the
strength in his voice touched with joy. "All hands, get those sails
aloft,
now
!"

The ship exploded with happy activity.
Sailors threw off blankets and boiled up from the hold. They
whooped and laughed, scrambling up the masts.

Honoria held on to the bench and breathed the
sweet wind. She forced herself to focus on the heady relief of the
breeze and the movement of the ship as the sails filled again.
Movement meant hope. They would not die here.

Christopher joined his men at the windlass,
the muscles on his bare back playing as he bent to turn the huge
wheel. Colby moved next to him, his deep baritone rumbling in a
song, badly out of tune.

Manda was not with them. St. Cyr had taken
the tiller, and Manda was not with him either.

Honoria's eyes narrowed as she scanned the
deck. The lady was nowhere in sight.

In fact, she noticed that, although the
entire ship's complement was present, including Mrs. Colby who tied
lines like the best of them, Mr. Henderson and Manda Raine were
notably, and interestingly, absent.

*** *** ***

They ran before a fair wind the next three
days, making fine time west and southwest. They still rationed
water, but the rations grew larger as they drew closer to their
destination.

Despite Christopher's revelation of James's
perfidy, Honoria thought herself closer to happiness than she had
been for many years. She awoke to sunshine and air and Christopher
snoring next to her, spent a companionable breakfast with Mrs.
Colby in the galley, did her watch under the supervision of Carew,
who'd recovered from his fever, dined with Christopher and the
other officers in the chart room, and leaned on the stern rail to
study the stars until Christopher led her below to bed.

Then Christopher would remind her, with his
mouth, hands, and body, that he was her husband in all ways.

Christopher refrained from talking about the
treasure, Charleston, and choices. All fine with Honoria. She
wanted to enjoy the now, being with Christopher in the sunshine and
freedom of the ship.

She never had the chance for a talk with
Manda, though Honoria kept a close eye on her and Mr. Henderson.
She noticed that Christopher kept his sister constantly busy, and
away from Mr. Henderson. When Manda dined with them, Mr. Henderson
was on watch, and vice versa. If the pair ever appeared on deck
together, Manda worked in the stern while Henderson was given a
task in the bow.

Honoria tried to bring up the subject of Mr.
Henderson and Manda several times with Christopher, but he only
growled and wouldn't talk about it.

Christopher's tireless energy rather
overwhelmed her at times. He was focused on finding his gold, which
would complete what he'd begun when he'd started his journey back
to life from the other side of the world. He was letting nothing
stand in his way, not his sister's growing interest in Henderson,
not his muttering crew, not his wife.

And certainly not the ship that the lookout
sighted behind them to the north at the end of the fourth day.

*****

Chapter Eighteen

They all piled on deck at the lookout's cry.
St. Cyr watched in his quiet way, and Manda worriedly peered
through her spyglass. Henderson leaned on the rail not far from
them, his spectacles glinting under the harsh sun.

Christopher knew damn well who followed them.
Honoria, at his side, shaded her eyes and squinted against the
glare. He watched her flush as she made out the outline of the ship
and realized who it was.

Christopher said nothing until the sailor
sang down from the top of the mainmast. "It's him, sir! It's the
Argonaut!
"

"You sure?" Colby growled upward.

"He's unfurled his flag. Midnight with a gold
slash."

"That is James, all right," Honoria said
grimly.

"Damn near the fastest ship in the seas,"
Colby said.

Only St. Cyr betrayed no emotion. "Our ship
is nearly as fast, Captain. Our modifications made it so. Do we
run?"

Christopher watched the faraway sail for a
long time. On that ship, no doubt, sailors were congratulating
themselves on catching up to them. He imagined Ardmore standing on
the deck, watching in his cool way. Perhaps his wife stood at his
side, her red hair shining in the sun.

"No," Christopher said abruptly. "We don't
run."

Colby stared. "What? Has the heat touched
you?"

Christopher shrugged. "Why should we run? We
sail in free waters, we haven't taken any ships, and we're minding
our own business."

"He will try to board us," St. Cyr said.

"He's welcome to. One captain can request to
speak to another. It's hospitable."

Colby's eyes narrowed. "What I'd like to know
is, how did he find us?" He switched his brown-eyed gaze to
Honoria.

She lifted her chin. "Do not look at me, Mr.
Colby. I did not see my brother before we left London, and
Christopher didn't tell me where we were going until we were well
to sea. James simply has the knack for turning up where he is not
wanted."

Colby looked unconvinced.

"
I
told him," Christopher said.

All eyes turned to him. In the silence, a
sail snapped and grew taut again. St. Cyr was the first to speak.
"Captain?"

Christopher lifted his spyglass and studied
the outline of the ship heading their way. The
Argonaut
had
much to admire--clean lines, low-riding hull, and square mainmast,
fore and aft jibs. Christopher watched for a long time, letting the
tension build, before he answered.

"His wife saw the marriage license and
doubtless figured out what the numbers I wrote on them meant. She's
an admiral's daughter, after all."

More stares. Mouths dropped open, and
expressions grew dismayed.

Manda was the first to realize that
Christopher had deliberately let Diana see the license and why. She
turned away, a faint twitch to her lips.

St. Cyr realized a moment after Manda did. He
moved back to the tiller, face relaxed. Colby, a little slower,
still glared. Henderson asked quietly, "What numbers?"

Christopher lowered his spyglass. "Manda will
tell you."

Manda jerked around, and Henderson
flushed.

Christopher did not give them time to shout
at him, or let Colby splutter more questions. He ordered everyone
back to work, even his lovely wife.

From the look in Honoria's eyes, she still
raged about her brother and the feud the two had going. Watching
her walk away, Christopher decided that Ardmore would be safer if
Christopher kept Honoria away from the cannons.

*** *** ***

Honoria hoisted her knife, positioned her
victim lengthwise, and brought the blade down sharply.
Chop!
She tossed the severed head into the pile and started on the
body.