Page 29 of A Prince Among Pirates
He laughs and slaps my shoulder a few times, then takes the mug of ale back to drink half of it himself. I can see bottles and mugs being passed around generously between hammocks. The men are getting rowdy drunk in some kind of celebration, and I think it would be wise for me to stay out of the way.
I slip free from his grasp and duck under his drinking arm to flee towards the stairs. I struggle for a moment with the decision: up or down? I feel ridiculous. The sight of boots on the stairs makes my choice for me. I hurry down and make my way towards the hold. The hold is familiar; I spend many days down there taking stock of the inventory with the twins.
When I finally reach the hold and slam the door behind me, I am met at last with blissful quiet. The sound of water moving against the walls drowns out the drunken celebration and revelations that have me so rattled. I should be out there drinking and celebrating too… shouldn’t I? I love getting drunk and having a grand time, but my nerves are shot. And anyway, I’m not so sure I can stomach a celebration after watching a man fall to his death. Even the recollection sends a wave of nausea through me.
I slide between the stacks of crates to a space only the twins and I know about. I found it one day by accident, and Tristan confessed that he and Trevor set up the crates this way so theycould sneak down to nap during the day sometimes. There is a blanket on the floor and a makeshift pillow made of a few rags folded together.
Right now I am more grateful than ever for the twins and their lazy cleverness. I sink down into the small space and lean back against one of the crates. The hold smells of fermenting fruit, which means there is likely a crate of produce somewhere we didn’t account for. I don’t mind the scent; it could almost pass for wine.
Almost.
I will sleep here for a little while, and when the men have drunk themselves into oblivion, I will sneak out on deck and find Captain Sharpe. We reach port in just a few days. I will get off the ship then and find another one to take me back to Europe. Not to England. But I could see myself bashing around Paris for a few months. And this time I will make sure the ship I choose isnotfull of pirates. Even though I would miss the tentative brotherhood blossoming between the twins and myself…
Though perhaps not as much as I would miss the sound of that rumbling baritone muttering “Kitten” with barely contained exasperation.
Twelve
I don’t sleep. My mind races all night, and when I finally can’t stand it anymore, I crawl out of my hiding spot and open the door as quietly as I can. I am utterly exhausted and in desperate need of a soft bed. I haven’t a clue what time it is; I really ought to inquire about purchasing a pocket watch at port.
The ship is quiet. But as I make my way up to the deck, feeling my way through the dark, I hear soft voices: the night crew, still working. It’s too early for me to be up here.
The light from the sliver of the crescent moon overhead casts an eerie glow over theDeliveranceas I make my way across the deck to the captain’s cabin. I am careful not to look too closely at the deck, lest there be any remnants of the bloodshed from this morning. When I slip and catch myself on the railing of the quarterdeck steps, I tell myself it was soapy water and not blood that nearly sent me toppling.
One more step and I am in front of the stained-glass door to Sharpe’s cabin. For a moment I consider knocking, but change my mind and try the handle instead.
To my amazement, it’s unlocked.
I slip into the room as quietly as I can. Once the door is closed behind me, it’s dead silent and pitch black inside. The room smells of metal. Not the metallic odor of blood, but the distinctive tangy scent of coins. Over that I detect the musk of old papers and the sulfuric scent of snuffed-out candles. It’s a familiar smell, and it has somewhat of a calming effect on my frayed nerves. I keep still for a few moments, holding my breath and willing my heart to shut up as I listen for any signs of wakefulness from Captain Sharpe, who is likely passed out in his elegant bed. He doesn’t immediately swear at me or throw a dagger at my head, so I assume he hasn’t woken up.
I tiptoe across the room, knowing my way by heart. When my outstretched fingers find the worn velvet of the settee in the middle of the room, my pulse eases and I exhale slowly. I sit and slide my feet out of my shoes, just barely able to hold in the groan of relief as I stretch my toes. I don’t care how angry he’ll be to find me sleeping on his settee; I’m exhausted and desperate for a cushion to lie on. I get comfortable, pulling my shirt collar up to cover my face, since I have no blanket to snuggle into.
Seconds later the clink of glass on wood startles me awake.
“Ah, His Highness has woken,” Captain Sharpe purrs from beside me.
I sit up abruptly and do a quick scan of the room. Somehow,in less than a minute, the sun has risen and is now shining brightly through the large windows along the gallery. I squint into the light and turn to face Captain Sharpe, who is standing over me with his arms crossed, wearing an expression somewhere between vexed and amused.
“Good morning, Captain,” I mutter as I reach for the teacup on the table before me.
He snorts and sits beside me, shaking his head as he snatches up his own teacup. “I had the men looking for you half the night.”
“No you didn’t.”
His brows rise, and he stares at me over his cup. He’s most definitely annoyed.
“You would have found me in minutes if you’d asked the twins where I was.”
He’s silent a moment longer before he begins to laugh. He sips his tea and sets the cup down with a great imitation of a long-suffering sigh. “And where were you?”
“Hiding.”
He levels a look at me. “What are you doing on my settee?”
I frown into my tea. It has no sugar, and I am not a fan of tea without sugar. I dare not ask for it right now, though. “Iwassleeping,” I point out. “Before you woke me up.”
He laughs again and rubs his hands over his face. “Kitten… that mouth of yours is going to get you killed one day.”
I grimace and set my tea down. Its bitterness does nothing to wash away the bad taste in my mouth from last night’s attack. “Yes, my father often tells me so.”
