Page 43 of Barbarous

* * *

Kemal bit back a smile as he went to arrange for his grumbling employer’s bath. He had witnessed his captain injured many times over the years, but never had he seen the big man submit with such grace to nursing as he had these past few days.

His smile grew into a smirk; of course Kemal had seen that he slept through much of it. Lady Davenport had reported this morning that the captain had passed a night of uninterrupted sleep.

Kemal liked the countess very much. Together they had nursed the fractious privateer with very little fuss. Although Kemal would rather have attended the captain himself, he’d realized the pretty, bespectacled woman was most interested in observing the baron—especially when it came to things the English doctor had not asked them to look for.

Kemal chuckled as he laid out the shaving items. He’d been with One-Eyed Standish for a decade and a half—ever since Standish had escaped Sultan Babba Hassan. He had seen the man pursue—and be pursued—by many women. Some of those women had almost brought the big man to heel and some had merely made fools of themselves: like the Italian duchess they’d rescued from a corsair ship. The fiery noblewoman had been furious at the captain when he deposited her back with her family without offering for her hand. She had shocked her proud brothers and amused the entire crew of the Batavia’s Ghost by throwing articles of clothing, shoes, and even a fish from a nearby vendor’s cart at the captain’s head as he made his escape.

Yes, many women had set snares for the King’s Privateer. And they had all failed. But Kemal was beginning to think the baron might have finally met his match in this quiet, serious beauty.

He chuckled and shook his head. He only wished Delacroix were here to share in such a fine joke and he cursed himself—yet again—that he’d not thought to wager with the first mate before he departed. It would have been a good opportunity to take money from the sage Frenchman who’d relieved Kemal of so much gold over the years.

Thoughts of Delacroix and the Batavia’s Ghost sobered him. A big part of Kemal’s heart had wanted to leave with the ship when it sailed from Eastbourne. He had not been away from the ship for this long in years. Captain Standish had understood Kemal’s yearning.

“You may go with the Ghost if you wish, Kemal. I would never ask you to stay on land.”

The captain had offered to retain another valet so that Kemal might go back to the sea, his only mistress—an unforgiving one who’d long ago brought Kemal to his knees.

Kemal had been torn by the offer, but, in the end, he knew his place was with the privateer he’d served so long. If not for One-Eyed Standish, Kemal would have spent the remainder of his days chained to an oar on Faisal Barbarossa’s ship, doomed to live and die in only a foot of space.

Yes, that would have been Kemal’s fate. He had no wealthy family to ransom him. Indeed, he didn’t even have any family to return to since corsairs had kidnapped every person in his small village when he was a boy of eleven. He had spent another nine years on the Barbarossa’s ship before One-Eyed Standish beheaded the vicious corsair captain and commandeered his vessel.

The crew of the Batavia’s Ghost was Kemal’s family now—and the only family he needed. Yes, it had been his lucky day when the baron entered his life.

It had also been a bloody day, and the first time Kemal watched One-Eyed Standish fall under the sway of his demons and become one himself.

Kemal knew firsthand the stories men told about the fearsome privateer—that Standish had fought as many as seven men at one time and vanquished them—were no exaggeration. He’d seen days when the captain’s demons would not be sated with any amount of blood; when his hatred of slavers and those who purchased slaves was so fierce he killed everyone in his path, even those who might have surrendered.

Although One-Eyed Standish was greatly feared and had never been an easy man to understand, he had always been a favorite with his crew. No captain worked harder beside his men or divided the spoils more fairly. Still, those who had served him long enough caught a glimpse into the dark heart of the man and knew he was driven by something brutal and fearsome. Nobody who’d seen him plying his sword could fail to recognize the rage within him. Kemal had seen more than one man throw down his weapon when faced with the mere prospect of facing the maddened giant.

He knew something terrible had happened to Captain Standish when he’d been the sultan’s slave. Something so terrible that even killing the Barbarossa—the man who’d captured him—had not banished the captain’s demons. In the fifteen years that followed his escape, the captain had pursued the men who’d betrayed him with a singlemindedness that crossed the border into obsession. Kemal knew only one man remained on the captain’s list—Emile Calitain.

The Batavia’s Ghost had pursued Calitain for fifteen years, but Kemal had never even seen the man. He knew the infamous slaver had once been the captain’s closest friend and had betrayed him.

Delacroix, who had been with Standish since escaping from the sultan’s prison, had once told Kemal he thought killing Emile Calitain would release the captain from the demons who possessed him.

Delacroix knew Standish better than anyone, so perhaps he was correct. But Kemal did not think killing another man would be the answer. No, Kemal had hopes this cool, tranquil woman and this peaceful place might be the cure for whatever ailed the driven giant.

* * *

Doctor Nichols arrived not long after Hugh finished his bath. He gave Hugh a brief examination and declared him fit to resume non-strenuous activities. Hugh wasted no time taking advantage of his liberation. He’d just finished dressing, even allowing Kemal to tie his cravat since he couldn’t lift his arms high enough, when somebody pounded on his door like a madman.

“Go see what that is all about,” Hugh said, fastening the remaining buttons on his waistcoat and wincing.

When Kemal opened the door, two small bodies hurtled into the room, leaving Rowena Claxton standing stiffly in the doorway.

“Hugh! Hugh! Hugh!” The yells were muffled by Hugh’s coat as both boys clung to him for all they were worth, unaware of the agony they were inflicting on his ribs and leg, not to mention the damage they were doing to his clothing.

“Cousins!” The word tore from his throat with a yelp and Hugh was glad he was able to yell something that wasn’t an expletive.

“Mama wouldn’t let us see you,” Richard said, by this time as distinct and recognizable to Hugh as if he did not share identical features with his brother. Hugh was amazed by how different two people could be even though they were mirror images of each other. “She said you were asleep all that time.”

“She said you fell off Pasha,” Lucien added, his voice edged with a disbelief Hugh found flattering.

“Well,” Hugh said, gently disentangling them from his bruised and tender torso, “I’m afraid it is true. Pasha is disgusted and refuses to allow me on his back until I can prove myself worthy.”

Richard glared at his brother. “Lucien should not have mentioned it. Mama says even the best riders take a spill. Even Papa fell from his horse,” he added. Hugh knew that in Richard’s eyes this settled the matter.