Chapter 10
Hawke groaned and put an arm over his eyes, but he still couldn’t sleep.
Behind the dividing curtain, Lady Annabelle was pacing on her side of the room, moving back and forth in front of the lantern light.
And she’d been doing so for hours. Each of her passings blocked the lantern for an instant, then revealed it again, making Hawke feel like the light was flashing, light and dark, light and dark, again and again, directly into his eyes.
It was no surprise that Lady Annabelle had managed to evade him since disrupting the officers’ private conference earlier that afternoon.
It was a particular talent of hers. And now, here she was, assuming the entirety of his attention.
He rolled over with an irritated grunt, facing the bulkhead.
If she didn’t trust his decisions, why had she come for him?
He hadn’t chosen any of this. In fact, it was exactly the opposite.
If the destination were up to him, he would opt for any other place on earth before Isla de Plata—and that included Carriacou, where he believed the French Governor still had a jail cell reserved for him.
The light blinked from behind him, pulsing against his eyelids. Was it possible that her lantern had grown brighter? She was probably doing this on purpose, impeding his sleep as a form of revenge.
Why did this woman hate him so thoroughly?
In Hawke’s experience, most women were rather partial to him.
Especially when there was scruff on his jaw and his curls fell just so over his forehead.
But every interaction with Lady Annabelle had been a confrontation that culminated in an argument and insults.
The woman was capable of civility, he knew.
Even kindness. He’d seen it when she’d swabbed the deck with Tim and assisted Beattie on the stairs.
The crew adored her, as he’d witnessed earlier when they’d gathered on the deck this morning.
He’d even seen her laugh with Grieg. And, in truth, her smile was captivating.
The thought brought Hawke up short. As did the bitter taste that accompanied it.
Was it jealousy he felt? He rolled back over.
Certainly not. He didn’t desire her smiles.
It would simply be a pleasant change to have an agreeable expression directed toward him rather than a scowl, sneer, or glower.
Sometimes, she even managed all three at once.
It wasn’t difficult to resume his irritation. Hawke sat up, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes and remembered how infuriated he’d been when she’d challenged him in front of the crew and dismissed his decisions. In that, she had gone too far.
“Do you mind?” His voice was sharp, completely inappropriate for speaking with a woman. But they were far beyond propriety. And he intended to get his point across.
Lady Annabelle halted her pacing. “I beg your pardon?”
He scoffed loud enough for her to hear over the creaking of the ship. “The light, the pacing . . . Your theatrics are becoming rather tiresome.”
The lantern was extinguished, and the cabin sank into blessed darkness.
Hawke lay back, relieved. The woman needed to understand that in order to maintain watches and effectively manage the ship’s operations, a regulated sleep schedule was—
A high-pitched keening came from the other side of the curtain, cutting off his thoughts. He listened for a moment, trying to understand what he was hearing. A sob and a sniffle jolted him from the berth. Blast! He winced as shame tightened his chest. He’d made her weep.
“My lady . . . ” He stepped to the center of the room, leaning close to the curtain to determine her location on the other side.
A soft thump and a rustling suggested she’d sat down on the floor. He followed the crying noises to the stern, kneeling to speak through the curtain. “My lady?”
“Go away.” Her words were choked as she spoke through sobs.
Hawke’s coat hung from a peg beside his berth, just visible in the moonlight coming through the porthole.
He felt in the pockets for a handkerchief, then sat beside the curtain, one foot on the deck, and his forearm resting on his knee.
He waited until the sobs slowed to a sniffling whimper, then pushed the handkerchief beneath the curtain.
“Lady Annabelle, I apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you so harshly.”
“Do not flatter yourself.” She repeated his earlier words in a bitter voice, shoving the handkerchief back.
“It is not what you’ve said that causes me anguish but your disregard for Court’s life.
” Her voice shook with a sob. “You care only for yourself. The new course adds days, perhaps weeks, to the journey. And all for what? A healing spell? This crew is at your mercy. You have commandeered this ship and . . . you . . . you have kidnapped us.” Her voice rose high as she spluttered the last words.
“Your accusation is quite hypocritical, my lady.” Hawke kept his voice calm in spite of the injustice of her charge. “Considering the manner in which you convinced—or rather compelled—me to join this voyage.”
He braced himself for what was sure to be a scathing reply, but the other side of the curtain remained surprisingly silent. He had expected a rebuttal, or at the very least, to hear Lady Annabelle’s feet striking the deck as she stormed back to her berth.
She was quiet for so long that Hawke wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Or perhaps she’d crept away without his hearing. He was about to return to his berth when she spoke softly.
“You are right.”
Hawke leaned his ear closer to the curtain.
“That should not have happened,” she continued, still speaking quietly. “I did not know Grieg would do such a thing, but I did not stop it.” There was a rustling sound as she shifted her position. “We should have found another way. Tim does not deserve such treatment, and neither do you.”
Hawke could not have been more stunned if she’d torn a hole in the sailcloth and burst through in a jester’s costume. “I understand why you did it, my lady,” he said. “And I’d have done the same if the roles were reversed.”
“You would have?” she asked. “To save someone dear to you?”
The question gave him pause. Was there anyone Hawke cared about enough to go to the lengths Lady Annabelle had for Captain Courtney? The bitter taste in his throat returned, and this time, he recognized it for what it was.
“I suppose love can make one act contrary to their nature.” Lady Annabelle shifted again. From the sound of it, she was making herself more comfortable, rather than rising to leave.
He leaned against the stern bulkhead, imagining she was doing the same on her side of the curtain.
“Hawke, I’m frightened,” she said. “I cannot sleep for worrying about Court.”
The gentleness in her tone pulled at something inside his chest. She sounded so vulnerable, something he would have thought impossible coming from Lady Annabelle Bradford.
“I imagine him alone and frightened in a cold brig,” she continued, her voice small in the darkness.
“Or facing Captain Blackham’s sword. Or suffering from the mysterious illness like the crew of The Good Will.
Does he fear no one will come for him? That he is alone?
The thoughts consume me. They spin in my mind until my heart beats rapidly and I can’t draw a breath.
” She stirred, and her shoulder brushed his arm through the sailcloth.
Hawke hadn’t realized how close they were sitting. “I will do everything I possibly can to save Captain Courtney,” he told her.
“But Tortuga—”
“Tortuga will only extend the voyage by a few days. And we’ve made good time. Calypso’s Quest is much swifter than Leviathan. I assure you.”
“The difference of even a few days could determine whether Court lives or dies,” she said.
Hawke shifted his position, bumping Lady Annabelle’s shoulder, but she didn’t move away.
“I will do everything in my power to save Captain Courtney,” Hawke repeated.
“But I am also responsible for the safety of this crew. And if any of us—including Courtney—are to have a chance of returning alive, we need that tonic.” He did not think he had ever been so aware of the section of his left arm that touched Lady Annabelle’s shoulder.
It was as if every one of his nerves had moved to that location.
“How can you be certain the tonic will work?”
Hawke felt the vibration of her voice as she spoke.
He didn’t move, not wanting to risk severing their contact.
“I can’t be certain,” he admitted. “But Mr. Shadbolt’s description of Courtney’s recovery .
. . It was as if he looked into my own memory.
That sulphureous smell must be the common element.
And when somehow combined in a tonic, it must be a remedy to the illness.
Molly was a healer. She understood herbs and minerals better than anyone I have ever met.
This woman Shadbolt knows sounds to be the same. ”
“But you have no proof,” she said.
“I do not,” Hawke admitted. “Only intuition.”
“You are willing to wager Court’s life on your intuition?”
“I am willing to wager all of our lives on it.”
Lady Annabelle didn’t respond right away. She was still, and Hawke wondered what she could possibly be thinking. Would she ridicule him for taking such a chance? Would she return to being angry, or worse, weeping?
“Very well,” she said at last. “I trust you.”
It was a simple enough statement, but it filled Hawke with warmth, as if dark clouds had parted and sunshine poured directly into his chest. From what little he’d learned of Lady Annabelle over the past weeks, he knew she did not bestow her trust easily.
They sat in the darkness, the ship rocking gently beneath them.
Hawke could feel the tiniest movement as she breathed.
He noticed the spot above his elbow where her shoulder rested had expanded.
She wasn’t exactly leaning against him, but more of her arm touched his.
His thoughts filled with questions about the woman on the other side of the curtain.
Did Lady Annabelle sleep with her hair in a braid, or did she wear it loose as it was during the day?
Were her eyes red from weeping? Was she wearing stockings with her nightclothes?
“Court used to tell me stories at night,” she said. “When I couldn’t sleep.”
“What sorts of stories?” Hawke asked, pleased that she’d chosen to continue their discourse.
“Old sailors’ tales,” she said. “Fish who grant wishes, mermaids, dancing lights beneath the waves . . .”
Hawke could hear a smile in her voice.
“I always wished to hear about ghost ships or sea monsters, but he thought those stories too frightening. I had to hear them from Grieg.”
He chuckled. “You said Captain Courtney is your godfather?”
“Yes. He and mother arranged for my summer voyages on the day I was born.”
“I didn’t realize Reid Courtney was so well acquainted with a noble family,” Hawke said.
Lady Annabelle was still. “I do not know the circumstances of their connection,” she said slowly.
“Neither my mother nor Court will tell me the entire story. From what I have gathered over the years, they are not well acquainted at all. And it seems they only met one time, on the day of my birth. I was born at sea, on a ship called the San Sebastian.”
Hawke could think of very few reasons Courtney would have been aboard a Spanish ship. And none were for a social call or a congratulatory visit to a newly born infant.
Lady Annabelle yawned. “Court told me that the moment he saw me, I had his heart.” Her head brushed his shoulder. “He is the nearest I have known to a father.” She yawned again. “Court and this crew—they are a family to me.”
Her head dropped against him and then jerked away. “I am so tired,” she said. “And you must sleep.” She moved away, but then the sound of her motion stopped. “Good night, Hawke.”
“Good night, my lady.” Hawke returned to his berth in an entirely different temperament than that of an hour earlier.
His arm was still warm from where Lady Annabelle had leaned against him.
He rubbed the spot absently as he turned over the things she had said.
He was curious about the agreement made on the day of her birth.
Had Lady Annabelle’s mother complied to Courtney’s demands under duress?
She must have. A mother would not willingly send her child away with a stranger—a pirate, no less—for months at a time.
Hawke couldn’t reconcile the image of the pirate captain who was so feared on the sea that his name was often spoken in whispers with the loving father figure Lady Annabelle described. What had so touched Courtney that he’d sailed every summer with a child aboard for all these years?
He smiled, thinking of a wide-eyed girl listening to tales of the kraken.
And after what she’d said tonight, he could see Lady Annabelle in a different light.
Understanding. All this anger she’d shown toward him was caused by worry as well as the fear that Hawke was replacing her beloved godfather.
He wondered if their situations were reversed if he might feel the same.
He listened, but from the other side of the curtain, he heard only soft breathing, and he fell asleep with a smile at the memory of Lady Annabelle’s voice in the darkness when she said the words, “I trust you.”