Within a Captain's Hold (11 page)

“I be feelin’ a mite better. ’Hap we both got cups dipped from a barrel of bitter rum.”

“Bitter rum.” He nodded. “That could explain it. I’ll see the rum checked from now on. It won’t do having two fine seamen such as ourselves toppled by such a thing.”

“Nay, Capt’n.”

Jaxon thumped the boy on his shoulder. “Off with ye.”

He considered the lad as the boy left him and headed toward the bow.

“Robbins?” Jaxon stopped him. “When we make port, I owe you a taste of fine, sweet rum. I’ll see to it there’s an extra eight in your wages.”

A smile graced the lad’s grubby face. “Thank ye, sir.”

Jaxon waved him off again.

“What Robbins thankin’ ye for?” Cookie limped up.

“A bit of sanity.” Jaxon shifted his gaze toward the sea.

Cookie rubbed at his nose, hiding a smirk. “At least his spirit’s been quiet.”

“Aye, she’s much quieter since you poured her into Robbins’ trousers. Only makes her haunt me now.”

Cookie chuckled.

Jaxon glared at him. “You’re lucky I still need a cook, but I’m going to owe you something when we get to port as well, and it won’t be a slice of extra gold in your purse.”

“Maybe ye’ll decide to give her a rough tumble and ye’ll be thankin’ me.” He shot Jaxon a sly smile and a wink.

“I’ll thank you to hold your tongue. She’s a lady, not some used harbor wench. She’s untouched. And I’ll see her stay pure, even if I have to protect her from myself.”

Cookie rumbled with another chuckle. “Might have to name ye Capt’n Blue Balls by then.”

Jaxon grumbled low, “I was thinking more a bluish shade of scarlet.”

“Ship off the port bow.” The man in the crow’s nest bellowed down to the crew.

Jaxon and Cookie looked off to the south.

“Glass,” barked Jaxon.

Another crewman nearby handed him a large telescope. Pressing his eye to the brass, anticipation rushed through his veins, but it quickly turned to the rigid stone of defense. Pirates.

“She’s too far to make out, but she’s flying a black and not passing. Call all hands. Drop the red sails. Let her know we’ve seen her.” The order shouted from man to man and the deck sprang to life with activity. Jaxon kept his eye on the ship in the glass. Once he recognized her, the tension left his shoulders. “It’s the
White Witch.”

Cookie chuckled. “Wonder what Fin Willy’s up to.”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Jaxon lowered the glass. “He’ll want to sit in my quarters and drink my best brandy.” He met Cookie’s stare. “Best see to it the finest is hidden from him.”

Cookie nodded in understanding. “Ye ken count on me, Capt’n.”

“Good man.”

Captain Finnegan Williams, called Fin Willy by anyone who knew him, and Jaxon knew him well. They served together when Jaxon first became a crewmember on the
Scarlet Night
. He was an ally and a friend. There were too many battles to count where he and Fin fought side by side. Their usual greeting, since Fin was captaining the
Witch
, was a flash of fire and a dip of the flag as the ships passed one another, but today Fin must be in the mood to say more than a cannon-blast hello.

“Ahoy,
Scarlet Night
.” A call carried across the waves. “Permission to come aboard”

“Come ahead,
White Witch
.”

Minutes later Fin Willy Williams dropped over the side and bent in a dramatic bow, sweeping his wide-brimmed feathered hat over the toes of the ugliest boots Jaxon had ever seen. “The infamous Captain Steele, ’tis a pleasure to be in the presence of such greatness. I am most unworthy.” The sarcasm dripped from his smirking mouth.

His hair and beard were peppered white. A scar sliced his cheek in a silvery curve from eyebrow to chin.

“Fin Willy, what brings an ugly bilge-swiller like yourself to soil my decks?”

“Came to see if you’ve come to yer senses and are ready to give me back my ship. The
Scarlet
should rightly be mine, and ye know it. A barnacled blowfish like ye shouldn’t have a ship this fine.”

“Over my dead body, ye bald-arsed cur.”

“Scurvied whore.”

“Diseased flea off a wharf rat’s balls.”

The men shared a fierce embrace and pounded one another hard on the back. “Jaxon.”

“Fin. It’s been too long. Word was you were haunting the African coast.”

Fin nodded. “That’s where I’m heading, but I’m glad to have crossed yer path. I’ve some news that concerns ye.”

“Me?”

“Aye, ye,” he nudged Jaxon with an elbow, “and I’ll bet ye can ply me with enough brandy to get it out of me.”

“Why should I waste good liquor on gossip backwash?”

“Because ye know if it was just gossip, I wouldn’t be wasting my time talking to a foul mug like yers.”

Jaxon frowned. Something in Fin’s tone concerned him, but whatever it was, Fin obviously didn’t want to discuss it within earshot of the crew. He hesitated only long enough to catch Cookie’s eye. An almost imperceptible nod of the man’s head told Jaxon what he needed to know. Annalise was hidden. “You know the way.”

“Oh, no.” Fin bowed again. “After
ye
, Captain Steele.”

Entering the cabin, Jaxon made a quick scan and confirmed Annalise was out of sight, but somehow, her presence still filled the room. He smelled her sweetness. Could Fin smell her too? The man dropped into a chair and kicked his absurd boots onto the corner of the desk. Jaxon breathed a sigh of relief, pulled a cut crystal decanter from its snug holder, and poured each of them a healthy amount. As he handed Fin his glass, a long, fiery thread of silken hair caught his eye. In a covert sweep, he snatched it from the chair and dropped it to the floor behind his desk.

“Here’s to fair winds in our sails, full chests in our hold, and lusty wenches in our beds.” Fin raised his glass and drained it in one swallow.

Jaxon did the same then splashed some more into each of their glasses. “So, what’s so important?”

“It’s a fine sight to see ye again, Kipper.”

Jaxon chuckled at the nickname. “You’re the only one who still dares call me that.”

“I’m the only one who still remembers the day we fished ye out of the harbor looking like a bony little fish.”

Jaxon refilled their glasses and settled back into his chair. The last thing he wanted to do was revisit the past. He shot a glance across the room. Annalise would hear every word of this. He frowned, not wanting to care what she knew about his history, but finding he cared more than he dared to admit.

Fin continued, “I’d never seen someone beaten so badly and thrown into that wharf’s filth live to tell the tale.”

“If it weren’t for Captain Hargrave, I wouldn’t have.”

“How old were ye?”

“Fourteen.”

“Scrawny, bruised, and stinking. A sad sight ye were. Told Hargrave we should have thrown ye back.” He drained his glass and poured more brandy himself. “And look at ye now, captain of the
Scarlet Night
.”

Jaxon spoke into his glass. “That was a long time ago, and I’ve fought for every inch.”

“Every inch, I know. There isn’t another commander that doesn’t respect and fear ye for that, too. Ye fight like a man possessed. I’ve seen ye battle like ye was hoping to die.”

“Not hoping. Expecting.”

“Yet, here ye are at the top of the heap.” Fin raised his glass again. “Ye’ve earned it.” He drank. “But ye do know the dangers at the top. Some have their reasons for wanting to see ye fall.” Fin tapped the side of his nose.

Jaxon narrowed his eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“Bonchette.”

The name cut like a knife. ‘Blood-Eye’ Bonchette the captain of the
Sea Dragon
. They’d crossed swords before. The man was one of the vilest pirates on the seas. Never gave quarter or took prisoners, and he’d kill an unarmed man without hesitation. Earned his nickname by stabbing his cabin boy in the eye for spilling his ale. Jaxon flipped his hand like he was swatting a fly. “What’s the greasy bastard want?”

“Yer head. He’s gunning for ye. Something about ye moving into the governor’s new house for the season? And the swiftness of ye securing yer letters of marque? He thinks the Earl of Carlisle has something to do with yer sudden rise in the king’s favor.” Fin raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t, does he?”

Jaxon’s jaw tightened at the mention of the good Earl. “How does Bonchette know about Carlisle?”

“I don’t bloody know.” Fin cocked his head and gave Jaxon a stare. “Ye didn’t answer my question.”

Jaxon stood and shrugged. Fin knew him. He could read him too well. Jaxon showed him his back. “I haven’t seen Carlisle in near twenty years. The man wouldn’t piss on me if my carcass was on fire.”

“Bonchette’s telling a different tale. He’s spouting to everyone in Port Royal who’ll listen to his mad rants that he’s done fighting for yer scraps. Says ye and yer crew are dead men and the
Scarlet Night’s
going to leave a nice red stain on the bottom of the ocean.”

“And you’re here to warn me?” Jaxon swirled the brandy in his glass, letting the amber liquid catch the glow of lantern light before drinking.

“Ye’ve fought the man before. Ye know what he’s like. His brain’s curdled. He’s a loose cannon, and ye’ve topped the list of his targets.”

Jaxon faced him. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“I didn’t think he would. I almost pity the bastard if he thinks he can best ye.” Fin held his gaze. “Just watch yer back.”

“I always do. You taught me well.”

“See ye do. I’d hate to have to avenge yer sorry arse.” Fin poured the last drop of brandy from the decanter. He began moving about the cabin, lifting chest lids, rummaging through things. Jaxon was quick to move between him and Annalise’s hiding place.

“Besides, Bonchette has lousy taste in brandy, and I enjoy stealing yers.” Fin pulled open the desk drawer. “What have we here? Nice ring. Did we pillage a lord?” Fin held up Anna’s ring. Jaxon heard the slightest movement behind him.

“The brandy you’re trying so hard to find is behind you.” He kicked a heel against the bed frame in warning. He watched as Fin slipped the ring on. It spun around his finger.

“I’d have stolen this too, had it fit.”

“You’re lucky to be getting my liquor.”

“Ye still owe me for saving yer sorry life. What’s a little brandy?”

“It’ll be worth every drop to get you and those ugly boots the hell off my ship.”

Fin dropped the ring back into the drawer. “What’s wrong with my boots?”

“They’re blue. Are those golden octopi on them or fish barf?”

“Octopus. What’s wrong with that?” Fin pointed a finger into his face. “Ye’re still a pain in my arse. This is the thanks I get for warning ye about Bonchette?”

Jaxon shook his head and watched as Fin grabbed four bottles of his best brandy. “If I add a bottle of lousy rum, would you be leaving any sooner, you gossiping sot?”

“I’m taking my boots and leaving, ye dried-up sea hag. Keep yer lousy rum.”

On deck, Jaxon watched as Fin threw the bottles of brandy across the watery gap between the ships, cursing at the sailor on the other side. He warned him if he dropped them, he’d feed him the broken glass for breakfast.

“Mighty good to see ye, Kipper.”

Jaxon couldn’t tell whether the rising seas were causing Fin’s rolling gait or the bottle of brandy he drank. “I wish I could say the same.” He slapped the man on the back.

Fin put a hand to his shoulder and leaned into him. “Do ye ever wonder what it would be like to leave all this behind?” He swept the watery landscape with his hand.

“That’s my brandy talking.”

“Nay, boy, I’m serious. If I had me a lusty wench to put up with me for more than a fortnight, I might just find me a bit of beach and watch the sea from the other side for once.”

“Now I know it’s the brandy talking. Besides, what wench would have ye?”

“I don’t fancy leaving my ship with cannon balls tied to my ankles. I’m getting old. I drink too much. And I’ve watched too many good men like you get slipped over the rail.” He took an unsteady step onto the boarding ladder. “Mind what I said about Bonchette.”

“Mind you don’t drop into the waves. And for God’s sake, get rid of those damn boots.”

Cookie was at Jaxon’s side as they bid farewell to the
White Witch.
“Did Fin Willy just say Bonchette?”

“Aye.”

“What’s that butcher up to?”

“Seems he’s planning how best to kill me.”

Cookie shot him a glance.

“He’s out to kill us and scuttle the
Night
.”

“I’d like to see him try.”

Jaxon scowled. “I’m thinking you might just get your wish.”

The night lantern burned low as it swung in a gentle rock. The seas were up tonight and the
Scarlet Night
danced and dipped into the wee hours of the morning. Annalise walked the rolling floor of the cabin thinking over what she’d learned from Jaxon’s visitor. What was his connection to the Earl of Carlisle, and why would another man want to kill him because of it?

The waves rose. Annalise braced herself for the storm to build, but the winds never changed. She waited, too, for Jaxon to make his nightly visit hoping he’d be as unchanged as the winds. She gathered her courage. There was much she wanted to discuss with him--if she could ever get him in the same room.

At the soft scrape of the key in the lock, Annalise lay down and feigned sleep. Jaxon entered, pulled a fresh shirt from a cupboard, and striped to his waist. After pouring wash water, he scooped handfuls and splashed them over his face.

He braced his hands on either side, and stood over the washbowl for a long moment. Water ran off his arms. His shoulders lifted and fell as he drew a deep breath and released it. He looked so tired. Anna longed to sweep a comforting hand over his bronzed shoulders.

She stood on silent feet. “Jaxon?”

He shot a glance over his shoulder and grabbed for a towel to wipe his face. “Go back to sleep, Annalise.”

“I’m sorry.”

He lowered the towel and stared at her. His eyes were dark in the dim light of the room. “What are you sorry for?”

“Everything. I’ve put you in such jeopardy. I’ve only added to the weight of your duties. I’ve taken over your cabin and your bed. I cannot imagine where you’re sleeping. And the last time…When we spoke last and I kissed you the way I did, I shouldn’t have. It’s just--”