Page 63 of A Prince Among Pirates
I lift my head to look up at Sharpe, and his fingers go still on the back of my neck. “You aren’t concerned about who killed him? What are we to tell the men?”
“The men know what they need to. My officers are aware that he’s dead; they don’t need to know how. As for Reuter—my quarrel was with him. If he’s dead, it dies with him. I’m not about to stick around to solve his murder when the only suspect is here in my bed.”
Good Lord in heaven.
Again I am at a loss for words. It’s not a position I’m used to. Is Captain Sharpe saying he would valiantly overlook a murder if it could be tied back to me? Or is this just how he speaks when he’s unguarded?
A knock at the door saves us both from ourselves. To my further surprise, Captain Sharpe doesn’t shove me from his bedand scramble to his feet. Instead he simply turns his head and cranes his neck a bit as he calls, “What is it?”
“Breakfast, Captain,” Billy’s voice replies through the door.
“Breakfast,” Sharpe murmurs to me before he lets me go.
I miss his body against mine the moment he turns to slide from the bed, but my grumbling stomach makes a convincing argument about needing sustenance, and I move to follow him.
“Coming,” Sharpe calls to Billy, and I watch as the shadow across the stained-glass door moves away.
I glance at my trunk as Captain Sharpe sits heavily on his settee to pull on his boots. “I’ll be out in a moment,” I say as I step over to it. The purse full of stones is sitting on top of it, so I snatch it up and slide open the unlocked top drawer of Sharpe’s desk, swapping the purse out with my own. I reach in as I return to my trunk and fish out my key, then kneel to unlock it.
“Don’t be long, Kitten. Billy made maduros with the plantains you got him.”
I smile at that. “I won’t,” I promise.
He eyes me for a moment, as if wondering whether it’s safe to leave me on my own. I can see him staring at me in my periphery. But as I begin to rifle through my clothes, selecting what I plan to wear for the day, he seems to decide I am fine to be left to dress. He gets to his feet, grabbing his jacket from the back of the settee and pulling it on in one smooth motion as he leaves the room.
And then I am alone, and the stuffy room seems to fill at last with enough air for me to breathe.
Ten minutes later I am dressed in a fetching pair of violet trousers, a clean white shirt, and a lavender waistcoat. These colors never fail to cheer me, and I think I will have the crew less worried if I reappear looking more foppish than ever.
I step out on deck and am surprised to see the twins, Billy, Captain Sharpe, Mr. Tydes, Cook, Rodriguez, and a few other men all perched or standing around with plates in hand. It’s strange to see them all in one another’s company like this. It’s also strange to see them taking breakfast on deck.
We are no longer docked at Port Royal but instead anchored some hundred yards or so out to sea. A skiff is making its way slowly across the water towards us. This must be what Captain Sharpe meant when he said he’d called the men back. If they see the ship anchored instead of docked, they will know something is wrong and return quickly.
Billy is the first to see me. “Kit!” he exclaims, grabbing a plate for me as I approach.
“Good morning, Billy,” I say as I take the plate with a smile. “Are these your famous maduros?”
“Mymother’sfamous maduros,” he corrects me.
“Of course, forgive me,” I say as I pick one up with my fingers and examine it. They smell delicious. Golden brown in color, the outside feels crispy and a little greasy on my fingertips. I take a bite out of it.
I have eaten bananas before. They aren’t common by any means, but my father’s status means connections to people with connections. Through various journeys and trades, my familywas exposed to things from other countries in small but frequent doses. I remember enjoying bananas every time I ate one, but I can’t recollect the exact flavor.
As I chew the maduro, which is lightly crisped on the outside but soft and warm inside, I know with certainty thatthisflavor is quite different. The outside has a caramelized sweetness to it, and the inside is velvety against my tongue. I eat the second half of the slice I’m holding and nod enthusiastically as Billy watches. Both texture and flavor are delightful.
“Billy, this is delicious,” I say after swallowing.
He pats my shoulder. “There’s plenty,” he says. “Have your fill.”
“Trying to fatten me up?”
Billy chuckles and picks his own plate back up. “A little meat on your bones is never a bad thing.”
“I’ve plenty of meat on my bones,” I say.
He laughs again, but I can tell by the tone of it he isn’t laughing at me, but rather out of sheer happiness. I laugh as well, and as he returns to Rodriguez and Captain Sharpe, I join the twins, who are both fastidiously licking their fingers.
“Good morning,” I say.
