Care and Feeding of Pirates (20 page)

"Colby is only miffed because Mrs. Raine got
the better of him," Mrs. Colby said.

Christopher's answering silence lay heavily
in the room. "If anyone else suggests we leave my wife behind, they
can speak to me. I married her. She stays."

Manda raised her brows, but offered no
comment, and Mrs. Colby remained in good humor. "Don't you worry,
love," Mrs. Colby said to Honoria. "My husband will soften when he
gets used to ye. He's a cuddly bear at heart."

"That is all," Christopher said. "Manda,
relieve Henderson of his watch and send Colby to me."

Manda nodded, and she and the other two moved
to leave the room. Honoria had to dodge aside so they could
exit.

Christopher folded the marriage license and
slid it into his pocket.

"Christopher," Honoria said when they'd gone,
"We very much need to talk."

"Later." He softened the abrupt word by
tilting up her chin and brushing a brief kiss to her lips. "At
bedtime. We'll talk then."

"You never give me the chance to talk when
we're in bed."

Christopher flashed her a wicked grin then
pushed past her without another word. He beckoned to Colby, led the
large man to his main cabin, and closed the door, polished wood and
brass shutting her out.

Releasing a sigh, Honoria made her way to the
deck. Christopher had effectively blocked her way to the bedroom,
but no matter. Standing on the deck would give her plenty of
opportunity to come up with ways in which to tell Christopher
exactly what she thought of him.

*** *** ***

Manda moved down the deck to where Alden
Henderson leaned on the rail, his spectacles gleaming in the
starlight. She'd never met a man who could wear spectacles and
still remain jarringly handsome.

"Henderson," she said. "You're off watch. You
can go below."

He acknowledged this with a nod, but he
didn't move. "I like to look at the stars," he said, gesturing off
the rail. A few clouds blotted the horizon with deeper darkness,
but overhead, stars twisted across the sky like a smudge of diamond
dust.

The wind ruffled Henderson's coat and pale
hair, but his body held the stillness of a waiting predator. He was
handsome, in an English sort of way, and as Manda had observed,
even the spectacles didn't mar his looks.

So why had Henderson, a perfect London gent,
volunteered to come aboard a pirate ship, to raise sails and turn
the windlass like a common sailor? If he planned to arrest
Christopher or his crew for Captain Ardmore, he'd be killed. He
must know that. So why not wait in the comfort of his London hotel
for Ardmore to summon him?

"You said you were a fine navigator," Manda
said, her voice strained. "Does that mean you could find your way,
by the stars alone, if you were stranded by yourself in a
rowboat?"

Henderson turned his head to her, the lenses
of his spectacles made opaque by moonlight. She couldn't see his
eyes behind them, which bothered her. "Only if you were stranded
with me," he said. "I'd need you to row."

Why did the idea of being alone in a boat
with him suddenly seem appealing? Ridiculous.

"Why did you rush to my rescue?" she asked.
"To a man like you, I should be nothing more than a servant or a
slave--or a man's treat. It's all the same to you."

Henderson looked out to sea again. "Because I
am a gentleman."

"That's what I mean."

His calm finally broke. "Can you never speak
to me without deliberately provoking me?"

Manda shrugged. "Can't seem to. And you
didn't answer me."

"I told you, I am a gentleman. That bastard
Switton had you in a cage. If it had been up to me, he'd have died
on the spot for that."

An odd sensation coiled around Manda's heart.
"Why should you care what happens to someone like me?"

Henderson made a noise of exasperation. "Are
English gentlemen not allowed to have compassion? He had no right
to take you, to lock you up, to defile you."

"He never touched me."

"That's not what I meant. He defiled your
dignity. He deserves worse than death for that."

They stood in a dark corner, between the
pools of lantern light. Manda reached up and touched his
spectacles. "Take these off."

"Why?"

"I want to see your eyes."

"It's dark."

"Doesn't matter."

Henderson heaved a sigh, unhooked the
spectacles from his ears, and pulled them off. He immediately
shoved the spectacles into a pocket, as though he feared she'd
snatch them and drop them overboard.

The moon was high and shining mightily
through the clear sky. His eyes were starlight gray, somewhat like
Christopher's, and just as intense.

As they faced each other, a mere foot of
space between them, Manda found that she was nearly as tall as he
was. Therefore, she only had to rise a little on her tiptoes to
kiss him.

For a moment Henderson did nothing, his body
rigid, his mouth unmoving. Then he put his strong hands on Manda's
shoulders and pulled her to him, to kiss her lips with a ferocity
that made her fear and anger dissolve like mist before a raging
storm.

*** *** ***

The galley, which sat forward of the
mainmast, half submerged in the deck, was cramped, most of the
space taken by a table on which all meals were prepared. A fire
roared on the brick hearth on the far wall, with a black pot of
soup boiling merrily over the flames. The dark-haired cook sitting
before it tossed in the occasional vegetable or chunk of pork
fat.

Honoria stood just inside the door and rubbed
her arms. The room was stifling, but the warmth felt good to her
cold limbs. Mrs. Colby, who'd taken on the job of cook's assistant,
looked up from industriously peeling potatoes. "You should be in
bed, love. Dawn comes early at sea."

"I'm not tired," Honoria said, then realized
the lie. Her arms ached from her afternoon holding the wheel, and
her eyes felt sandy.

Mrs. Colby chuckled. "Well now, your husband
will be happy to hear you're wide awake."

Honoria blushed, which made Mrs. Colby laugh
again.

"You're good for him, dear," Mrs. Colby said,
returning to her potatoes. "You've taken the edge off him."

"I have?"

"My goodness, yes. Captain Raine's always
been a hard man, albeit a fair one. He don't brook no disobedience,
but he's good to his crew. Then again, he can be ruthless as a
stray dog what takes over a pack. Now he's got something new to
think about. Something nice."

Honoria eyed the woman in amazement. If
Christopher had had his edges polished off, she wondered what he'd
been like with the edges on.

"He went through hardship in the Orient,"
Honoria said. "Perhaps that has made him less formidable."

"Oh, aye. His adventures no doubt shook up
his pride. But his toughness got him through those. It's you, dear,
that's put that sparkle in his eyes now."

"The one that makes him look as though he
wants to devour me?"

Mrs. Colby laughed again. "The very one. Let
him enjoy himself, dear. He deserves a rest."

Mrs. Colby went on slicing potatoes. Honoria
found herself sitting on one of the stools, arranging the uncut
potatoes in order of size.

"He's had a difficult time of it," Mrs. Colby
went on. "Our captain as a boy got to watch his father be shot
through the head and his mother walk away willingly with the
killers. That made him hard inside, and him so young."

"Good heavens," Honoria said, shocked. She
hadn't heard much about Christopher's personal past, only his
pirate exploits. She pictured Christopher as a child, his flinch
when the pistol fired, his horror and grief, which he'd have had to
tuck away where no one could see it. Her heart ached.

"He'll be good to you, love," Mrs. Colby
said. "But in his own way."

"Does his own way include driving me
insane?"

Mrs. Colby smiled. "It's the way of love, my
dear. When Colby courted me, I wanted nothing more than to slam a
tankard between his eyes. He'd swagger in and out of my life
without so much as a by-your-leave and expect me to be waiting for
him whenever he came back. And then one day, I wasn't waiting."

Honoria moved a large potato to the end of
her row. "What did you do?"

Mrs. Colby's smile widened. "Oh, he did get
that angry with me! He's mostly a gentle man, for all he's so big,
but he has a temper. He tried to demand it from me, but I said if
he cared so little for my feelings he could pay for the pleasure,
same as he would a common woman." She shook with laughter. "He was
that shocked. You wouldn't think old Colby was so prim. But he is.
So he took me out and married me."

Mrs. Colby reached for a potato in the middle
of Honoria's careful line. "Then he wanted me, if you please, to
wait in England for him to return. Not so, I said. Our vows say
'Til death us do part,
not
'Til your ship leaves
port.
So I went with him. He needs a wife, bless him."

The two seemed to fit, even from what little
Honoria had seen of them, the bear-like man and the plump little
woman, she all smiles, he growling. Honoria sensed and saw the
strong bond between them even when they worked in separate parts of
the ship.

Honoria had always felt a similar bond
between herself and Christopher, a tether that wrapped around her
even through the years she'd thought him dead. She'd told herself
she had let him go in her heart, but the truth was, Honoria never
had been able to let him go.

She knew, for instance, when Christopher
entered the galley behind her. Not only Mrs. Colby's abrupt
interest in the potatoes told Honoria to whom the quiet footsteps
belonged, she sensed a change in the air, a tingling on her skin
that meant her husband stood in the doorway behind her.

Mrs. Colby sent Christopher a smile. "I was
keeping her warm for you, Captain."

"I'm grateful," Christopher rumbled. The
harsh light in the cavern-like room made his face look harsher than
ever. He held out his hand. "Come along, my wife."

Mrs. Colby winked. When Honoria remained
fixed to her stool, Christopher stepped into the room, took her by
both elbows and pulled her up and out of the galley with him.

*** *** ***

Christopher knew Honoria wanted to argue.
She'd begin by accusing him of returning for her only because she
possessed the marriage license with its directions to the
Rosa
Bonita's
Mexican gold.

Christopher would have to tell her,
It was
the other way around, sweetheart.
He'd come for the marriage
license because he knew Honoria would be attached to it.

He led her into their cabin, cooled by the
breeze through the open window, and shut the door. Honoria opened
her mouth to begin the argument, so Christopher pressed her back
against the door and kissed her.

He liked the shape of her mouth and the
softness of it, the spice of her tongue and the eager way she moved
her lips against his. She tasted as sweet as she had that faraway
day when Christopher had kissed her for the first time.

Back then, Honoria had belonged in that
delicate room in her family's mansion, she all white muslin and
perfume. Now her skin was pink with sunburn, her hair tangled by
the wind. Her flowerlike girl's face had changed to the face of a
woman, with a sharp chin and fine lines at the corners of her eyes.
Christopher found Honoria even more beautiful now, though she
probably wouldn't believe that.

She made a soft noise in her throat as he
kissed her, and twined her arms about his neck. Honoria had done
that way back when as well. She always liked to pull Christopher
closer, as though to make sure he didn't leave before the kiss was
over.

No fear of that.

"Christopher," she whispered.

He growled softly. "Not now."

"I just wanted to ask . . ."

"No." He nipped her lip.

"You don't even know what I want to say."

Christopher began the pleasurable task of
slipping free the hooks of her bodice. "I have a good idea what it
is."

"I'll wager you do not."

"No?" He opened another hook. "What will we
wager? A kiss?" He stole a brief one. "Too late for that. Your
virtue?" He cupped her breast. "Too late for that too."

A stubborn glint entered her eye. That was
his Honoria, always ready for a challenge. "If I win," she said,
"you will honor one request from me, without question, no matter
what it is."

"All right," Christopher said recklessly, his
blood too hot to care. "And you'll honor one from me if you lose.
No questions." He touched her lips. "No talking."

"Very well."

Christopher pinned her against the door
again. "So what is your question?" Even if he had to endure endless
interrogation about the marriage license, he'd just ensured himself
a fine reward for her probing.

Honoria cleared her throat and tried to look
as prim as she could with her bodice half open. "May I steer the
ship again tomorrow?"

Christopher tried to hide his start, but
couldn't. Damn. "That was what you wanted to ask?"

"Yes." She smiled, triumphant. "Well?"

"Little vixen."

She gave him a pleased look. "I win."

"Yes, all right. What damn fool thing do you
want me to do?" Knowing Honoria, she'd tell him to stand in the
stern on one leg and sing Irish sea chanteys or something equally
ridiculous.

"Answer my question first," she said.

"What question? Oh, taking the wheel. Yes,
you will. You'd better. Your watch starts at ten."

Her brows went up. "My watch?"

"Young Carew will help you. He trains the new
recruits."

"Have I become one of the crew?"

"I don't have enough men to give you a free
ride. Everyone works, everyone gets a share. That includes
you."