Chapter Five
The blessed relief of wind would never grow old.
Square sails hummed above while Isaac removed his hat to let the breeze whip through his hair.
Though three days had passed since they’d left Tortuga, the memory of oppressive humidity and heat remained fresh.
He straightened. Better to remember that part of the island.
Not her.
His hands tightened around the spokes of the wheel.
Each time he closed his eyes, visions of her beneath the cascading water haunted him.
He’d finished undressing her in his mind an embarrassing number of times since their jungle encounter.
A fresh wave of desire coursed through him as his body eagerly reminded him how willing it would have been to take it further.
With a groan, he grit his teeth together.
Absolutely not. She was the governor’s daughter, for Christ’s sake.
Not some doxy in a harbor tavern to have his way with.
With her untamed spirit and reckless charm, she was a woman whose magic could threaten attachment. And he was not a man for attachments.
Why would anyone choose a life tethered to commitments on shore when they could have this?
His eyes roamed the activity on deck and his heart swelled.
The transition from first officer to lieutenant less than a month before had been as seamless as he could have hoped for.
It helped he had sailed and fought alongside many of these men over the course of several missions.
Still, he missed the companionship of his best friend, and former lieutenant, Christian Thompson.
That friend was the very reason he’d procrastinated returning the schooner to Tortuga for so long.
Nothing in the world could have kept Isaac from attending the wedding a few days prior to his departure.
He couldn’t help his grin. Straightlaced Christian had shocked the entire Navy when he resigned and married a pirate… Ex-pirate.
To this day, his mind almost couldn’t comprehend it.
Christian, one of the most disciplined and principled men he knew, had fallen in love.
He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it happen with his own eyes.
Christian’s wife, Samantha, was about as unconventional as they came.
She preferred breeches to dresses and could outsail—and outfight—most men he knew.
Again, his mind drifted to another unconventional woman.
Unconventional or not, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t for him. No one was. Not when he had missions to see through, promotions to earn. He would be a terrible husband. So he kept his relationships short and sweet—one night. The constant reminder kept him content, never wanting more.
Isaac replaced his hat. Here he was, in charge of a brand-new sloop of war, with a notorious pirate to hunt down.
This was where he belonged, far away from ballrooms and women who expected him to give up everything for them.
His palm brushed his sword. He’d much rather fight Thorne than surrender his heart.
The thought sobered him as he flipped open his compass to check their course.
The winds had been in their favor since leaving Tortuga and they would be arriving in Savannah early.
A good thing, because he would have very little time to prepare for his first big mission as lieutenant.
Thorne’s escape a few weeks before had sent the Navy scrambling. The government wanted the pirate captured and hanged, to make an example of him for humiliating them. But most importantly, they needed to get the pirate before he cost more lives.
So, he would pick up extra men and weapons in Savannah and set sail as soon as possible. Which wasn’t a bad thing. No reason to stay ashore long in the sweltering heat of late summer.
A cough interrupted his thoughts and he turned to find his first officer, Silas Cummings, standing at the top of the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck, his face all hard lines.
Isaac straightened. “What’s wrong?”
“We found a stowaway.”
Shit.
“How did someone get onboard?” His teeth pressed together. He had posted an obscene number of guards the entire time they had been at port in Tortuga to avoid precisely this.
“It’s my fault.”
Isaac lifted a brow at Silas’s confession. The man was a stickler for doing things exactly the right way.
“When the cargo was being loaded, there was a boy, he was nervous, and something was off about him. I specifically watched for him to come back off and made the error of assuming I’d missed him due to his small size when I didn’t see him.”
A boy.
Isaac pressed his eyes shut. “Damnation.”
Silas stood next to him in silence for a long minute before clearing his throat. “What are your orders, sir?”
Pain radiated along Isaac’s jaw from where he held it clamped shut. There was only one order he could give. The rules were very clear. The crime of being caught as a stowaway? A dozen lashes.
“Where was he?”
“Tucked away in the back of the cargo hold. Probably wouldn’t have found him, except his parrot made a ruckus when Cook went looking for a missing crate of provisions.”
“A parrot?” Isaac blinked. Only one sort of character in this part of the Caribbean would have a pet parrot.
What the hell was a young pirate doing on his ship?
One would have to be desperate to try their luck getting onto a Navy ship.
The question was, did he have nefarious reasons, or was he trying to escape to a better life in America?
A commotion came on the main deck as two sailors dragged a form out into the sun. Only a head or so shorter than the sailors and sporting a shirt at least two sizes too big, the stowaway must be an adolescent. Possibly older.
Isaac let out a breath. Not that it made the prospect of a flogging any more enjoyable, but at least it wasn’t a child.
“Well, the sooner we start, the sooner we can be done with this.” He motioned Silas forward.
News had traveled fast and sailors already lined the deck around the foremast, where the two sailors had come to a stop with their captive.
Isaac descended the steps after his first officer.
With a deliberate slowness in his gait, he made his way to the center of the circle his men had formed.
By the time he reached the mast, the crew had fallen quiet.
The wind swallowed each intentional click of his boots on the polished deck.
The boy met his gaze and Isaac caught a brief flash of widened brown eyes before the brim of the hat dipped forward to obscure his face. He stared at his boots, unmoving as Isaac came to a stop in front of him.
“What’s your name?”
The boy didn’t answer.
“Alright then. Why are you on my ship?”
Silence stretched between them.
Isaac set his hand on the hilt of his sword, the warm brass a welcome support. “Look at me.”
The boy shook his head and Isaac fought the urge to reach out and yank the youth’s face up. He would keep his composure in front of his crew. With a cough, he cleared his throat and lowered his voice.
“Do you know what the punishment for stowing away is?”
“Lashes.” The word came soft, almost imperceptible.
“You knew, yet you still thought to stowaway on a United States naval ship? I have no choice but to issue the discipline.”
The boy stiffened, but did not protest.
One of his men approached with the whip and Isaac took it. No way to drag it out any further. He nodded to Silas, who pushed the boy to his knees and secured his hands to the mast with a rope.
“Remove his shirt.”
Without fabric in the way, the whip would leave cleaner marks, and Isaac would be better able to judge the intensity. He would make sure to keep the damage to the barest minimum.
Bile burned a path up his throat as Silas took hold of the boy’s shirt.
His first time having to mete out punishment as a lieutenant.
He’d known it would happen eventually, but so soon?
His gaze lifted to the sails as he filled his lungs with salty air.
He could pass the task to Silas, as first officers were allowed to administer lashes.
No. If he were to be a respected lieutenant, and someday, captain, he needed to show his men he was more than capable of performing every aspect of his job, no matter how undesirable. He sighed, bunching the corded leather between his fingers and palm. Would it ever get easier?
“Lieutenant?” Silas’s voice cracked. “You’re going to need to come see this.”
Isaac frowned and strode forward, kneeling when his first officer motioned him down.
Silas pulled the billowing shirt up and Isaac’s mouth went slack. He didn’t need to see the strip of linen binding. Because beneath it, smooth skin revealed curves that no man possessed.
“Son of a bitch.” He swatted Silas’s hand away so the garment fell back in place. “Untie her.”
The first officer fumbled with the ropes and as soon as they fell free, Isaac grabbed a slender wrist and yanked the woman up. He had half a mind to rip that ridiculous hat free and expose her to all, but he took a steadying breath. It would only cause a scene and that’s the last thing he needed.
“Follow me.” The words came out in a growl and he didn’t wait for a response before starting toward his cabin.
He half dragged her beside him, her feet tripping as she struggled to match his long strides. When he reached his door, he flung it open and pushed her inside. He slammed the door behind them, the sound ricocheting through the room as she took several quick steps away from him.
He followed her, coming to a stop directly behind her. “You’ve got exactly five seconds to explain what the hell is going on.”
She hugged her arms around her midsection, but stood rigid and quiet.