Chapter 10 #2
Her pained green gaze flicked upward to meet his. “Partial sunlight and fresh water.”
He nodded, then called to the men carrying the pots. “Put the plants in my cabin.”
Steadfastly resisting the urge to press herself into Percy’s side as the pirates passed with items from the Sapphire, Heather focused instead on the warmth spreading through her chest. Even while he was embroiled in piracy politics that were beyond her understanding—Was he truly the captain of the pirates simply because he killed that Butcher fellow?
Did the position not fall to the next in line?
—Percy had considered the well-being of her plants.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He gave another nod, his gaze still on the trussing of the earl. They’d gagged him as well, but his face had grown so alarmingly purple it appeared about to burst.
“Look wha’ we found quiverin’ in th’ ’old!” one of the pirates exclaimed, dragging a tearful Berta out of the companionway.
Percy stiffened beside her, and Heather’s breath caught in her throat. No! Berta couldn’t be caught—she wouldn’t be safe among the pirates!
“No,” Heather whispered. “No, Percy, they can’t.”
“Leave her and the other women!” Percy bellowed. “Do as you’re told, or you’ll join the dead when we give them their sea burial.”
The men worked quickly and efficiently, gathering items from the Sapphire and bringing them aboard the pirate ship, and Heather couldn’t help but notice the stares the pirates gave Percy as they passed.
To her astonishment, they watched him with not only wariness but…
awe. It made her wish she shared their knowledge.
“Percival,” said a low voice behind them.
Percy whirled and blinked, first in confusion and then in shock, as he took in the man before them.
“Hell’s tits, Donovan!” His teeth gleamed in a broad smile as he clasped the pirate’s large hand and shook it.
“It’s bloody good to see you, friend.” The wide man nodded vigorously and smiled, revealing only slightly yellowed teeth in return.
The pirate was nearly as tall as Percy, though he had more breadth, and where Percy’s smooth, slightly tanned skin glowed rosy in the sunlight, Mr. Donovan’s was a deep, glorious mahogany that seemed to absorb the sun.
They grinned at each other, but while their dark gazes locked, Heather sensed that a wealth of unspoken words passed between them.
At last, Percy cleared his throat. “Heather, this is Donovan. I’ve known him since boyhood. Donovan, this is Miss Morgan, a fearsome and highly respected runner from London.”
Another burst of warmth flared in Heather’s chest as she greeted the pirate. He ducked his head, his eyes curious and also filled with what seemed to Heather like profound sadness, and perhaps relief.
“What in Christ’s name are you doing on Butcher’s ship, Donovan?” Percy asked in an undertone.
“There’s a few of us from them years on board.
Ye’ll see the others soon, I wager.” The man’s smile slipped, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“There ain’t many options for pirates, as there ain’t many of us left.
Butcher was a bastard—most o’ the crew hated him, and others wanted t’ kill him—but he kept our necks from the noose. ”
Percy clapped his old friend on the shoulder, his lips tight and eyes troubled. “I understand. I should like to discuss this in greater detail later on. But Donovan…will you be my second-in-command?”
“Oh!” Donovan’s eyes lit. “Aye, Percival—I-I mean Captain. Aye!”
“Very good. We must prepare to set sail. I tossed a satchel aside earlier—bring it to my cabin. Heather”—he turned to face her—“do keep your dirk at hand. These men are not to be trusted.”
A jolt of nerves jumped through her abdomen, but she nodded her understanding.
He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Remember your training. You have the skills. You are strong, capable, and damnably formidable when you put your mind to it.”
Then he was gone. And her pulse was thundering.
Holy hell, what am I doing? Percy’s gut twisted as he ordered the pirates about.
“Hoist the sails!” he called. “Scrub the deck!”
The bodies had already been thrown overboard, but blood remained.
Luckily, most of the carnage had been sustained on the Sapphire, so there was less to clean.
Additionally, Percy had to arrange for a thorough inspection of what was damaged during the battle.
Lord knew the Sapphire wouldn’t sail again, for its main mast had been downed, but although this ship was able to sail, it had borne damage.
His gaze swung toward Heather, who stood next to the bulwark at the aft end of the fo’c’sle, her elbow resting upon the taffrail and the wind blowing through her red-blonde tresses.
He wanted to trace the sun’s path across the bridge of her nose and over her cheekbones, to kiss away the pucker of a frown from between her brows.
He leaned against the starboard taffrail, attempting to better glimpse her features, but from that distance, it proved a challenge.
Hell. Was she pregnant with his child? The rush of seawater and wind filled his ears as his extremities grew numb despite the warmth of the day.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
Despite his fears, imposing his ill pedigree—or lack thereof—on anyone was the least of his current concerns.
He’d just felled Butcher, for Christ’s sake!
He’d taken on the role of sodding pirate captain, once more breaking a vow he’d sworn to uphold.
And in doing so, he risked breaking another promise: keeping Heather safe.
His gaze slid her way again, and his gut clenched.
Taking on the role of a member of the crew had been necessary…
but so had this. Icy fear crept up his spine and flapped helplessly in his heart.
As much as he despised even sniffing around his old life, he would take that leap again to keep Heather alive.
For fuck knew they’d just landed in a tornado of shite and death.
And—sodding hell—how was he to return them to England? He couldn’t risk sailing a pirate ship into the Pool of London, lest he risk not only his and the crew’s necks but Heather’s as well. This would bear ruminating on, for certain.
Christ, he ought to speak with Heather on the matter.
A gust of warm wind rushed past him, and his gaze lifted toward the darkening sky.
He must spend time working on navigation, on planning.
Never would he have guessed that he’d again require that particular skill.
Indeed, he’d imagined himself working for the women on Bow Street, training and sparring while earning a small wage—for he certainly didn’t require a larger one—and living out his life quietly.
“Captain Percival!”
Percy whirled at the voice, and smiled as Donovan approached. It was bloody good to see an old friend. But with that joy came fear…and guilt.
“Yes, Donovan?”
“We’re sea ready. The men belowdecks are accommodating the new crew members and assessing the damage.”
Percy nodded. “Excellent.”
“We are well enough away from the Sapphire, Percival. You are free to make your announcement.”
“Very good.” Percy cleared his throat, inwardly cursing the sudden quiver of nerves in his abdomen. He jutted his chin toward the belfry. “Ring the bell.”