Chapter Seven
“This should be good.”
Isaac glared at Christian over his glass of brandy. “I’d rather not talk about it at all.”
Christian’s laugh echoed through the room. “Well, either you tell me now, or I’ll get the story from Samantha tonight.”
Though his friend was no longer his superior, Isaac couldn’t shake the cold weight of failure that threatened to overcome him if he admitted how Miss Montclair had come aboard his ship.
He rubbed a thumb along the rim of his snifter.
Not that it mattered. One way or another, Christian would find out. No point in delaying the inevitable.
“She was a stowaway.”
Christian whistled and tipped back his glass. “How the hell did a woman sneak on board the Tempest?”
Isaac ground his teeth together. “She dressed as a boy.”
Amusement flashed across his friend’s eyes. “And you were fooled?”
“Don’t you start. You’ve no leg to stand on in that regard.”
Christian leaned back in his chair with a grin. The very first time he’d met Samantha, she’d been disguised as a boy. She’d engaged him in a sword fight…And won. It had nearly driven him mad and started the hunt of a lifetime.
“Why didn’t you bring her back to Tortuga?”
Isaac ran a hand through his hair. “And waste precious time? Besides, Samantha will love an excuse to go sailing on your new ship.”
“Ah. So, you want us to return your baggage.”
His fingers tightened around his glass. “She’s not my baggage.”
A dark brow lifted. “But she is very beautiful.”
Isaac closed his eyes and was rewarded with the bare curve of her waist—the same vision that had been haunting him the last two days.
At least it had replaced the scene at the waterfall.
Maybe. A growl formed in the back of his throat as another image rose unbidden: perfect breasts, slick with water, straining against translucent fabric.
He took a hearty sip of his drink, welcoming the harsh burn.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Christian set down his glass and stretched, a smirk still etched across his face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Isaac sighed. One would have to be blind to miss the reverent look in her eyes each time they crossed paths. “I fear she has an infatuation with me.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You know exactly what’s wrong with that. I’ve no time or space in my life for any of that nonsense.”
Christian picked at an invisible spot on his sleeve. “So you keep saying.” He grinned anew. “I hope you’re not expecting any sympathy from my end.”
“That would be too much to hope for.” Isaac finished his drink. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be setting sail in a couple days and you’ll get her back to Tortuga long before I get back.”
“Fair enough.”
Isaac glanced at the notebook overflowing with pages sitting next to his friend. “Any headway on your research?”
Christian had been poring over all records of ships taken out by Captain Thorne, trying to find a pattern.
He flipped open the book and removed a sheet of parchment.
“It’s been difficult. In the beginning, the only ships he attacked were other pirates, which of course are rarely reported other than word of mouth.
But, five years ago, he took out a merchant ship contracted with the Navy.
Ever since then, he has targeted a wider variety—merchant, passenger, privateer, and a few more associated with the Navy. It doesn’t make sense.”
Isaac’s fingers tapped a slow tempo on the arm of his chair. “Has anything about your father ever made sense?”
His friend’s lips pressed together. Finding out he was the son of the infamous Captain Thorne had been a life-altering shock.
Once a decorated naval captain, Thorne went rogue after pirates killed his wife—Christian’s mother—and disappeared, faking his own death.
At first, he hunted pirates. At some point, he turned into the very thing he hated.
During their recent clashes with Thorne, he’d hinted he was far from finished with seeking retribution.
The last time Christian saw him, he’d been shaken to the core by the news his mother had not been killed by pirates after all.
If there was one thing worse than a bloodthirsty pirate, it was a bloodthirsty pirate out for revenge.
The question remained: who was he after?
With brows together, he took note of Christian’s set jaw.
His friend treaded dangerous waters and risked becoming as consumed with the hunt as his father had.
It was a large part of the reason he’d resigned from the Navy.
Now, Isaac was the one tasked with bringing Thorne in.
It rubbed the wrong way for certain, having to take down the father of his best friend.
But it was his duty, and he would do it to the best of his ability.
A heaviness settled over him, as it often did when he thought about the mission.
He had kept vital information from his superiors by not disclosing Thorne’s true identity, at Christian’s request. If it were found out, Isaac could be court-martialed and released from service, a blemish that would follow him the rest of his life.
He couldn’t help glancing at Christian, who still flipped through the pages in his notebook.
For now, he would honor his friend’s wishes.
A soft knock came from the doorway and the butler poked his head into the study. “Dinner’s ready.”
They stood and followed him to the dining room.
Of course, Samantha had made sure a proper feast awaited.
The only thing he disliked about being at sea was the terrible food choices.
He enjoyed a well-cooked meal and looked forward to the rare occasions he got them.
His heart swelled as he took in the various dishes at the table.
Having good friends who insisted upon spoiling him also made his time ashore more enjoyable.
Samantha entered, clothed in her trademark periwinkle blue and paused just inside the door to wave in Miss Montclair.
Isaac clamped his teeth together. She wore one of Samantha’s dresses, the blue silk shimmering over tanned skin.
Her hair had been teased into a masterful pile of curls and she wore something tied to a ribbon around her neck, a brooch perhaps.
He couldn’t tell because it disappeared into her cleavage.
Pulse beating in his ears, he yanked his gaze up.
Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?
She gave him a shy smile, and all he could do was nod.
Christian slid him a look, that blasted smirk back on his face. “You ladies look lovely.” He strode forward and pulled out the chair closest to his spot at the head of the table.
Samantha sat and Christian cleared his throat, spurring Isaac into action. He crossed over and did the same for Miss Montclair. She thanked him, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks, and he took his seat across from the two ladies.
He filled his plate and made sure to keep his mouth full, which meant Christian and Samantha got to lead conversation.
As they ate, he couldn’t help noticing Josephine’s pure delight in trying dishes new to her—which turned out to be all of them.
She lifted a spoonful of turtle soup to her nose and took a sniff, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
“I’ve never smelled anything like this before.” Bringing the spoon to her lips, she took a small taste and her eyes closed on a sigh. “So lovely.”
Lovely indeed. He pressed his teeth together and forced his gaze from her enraptured face.
Unfortunately, his quick turn brought him face to face with Christian, who gave him a knowing smile.
Isaac shot him a scowl in return and dropped his eyes to his plate instead, taking a sudden interest in his cherry glazed turkey.
A knock came from behind him and the butler walked in with a letter on a silver tray. “I’ve an important missive for Lieutenant Caldwell.”
Isaac frowned as he took it and glanced at the governor’s seal. He unfolded the page and scanned the first lines. Re-read them. His pulse picked up as the weight of Christian’s ever-sharp gaze settled on him. “Thorne’s come out of hiding.”
Samantha dropped her fork and turned toward Christian with a worried look. He kept his gaze on Isaac and extended his hand. “What did he do?”
Isaac passed the paper. “He attacked a Naval supply ship off the coast of North Carolina, near Wilmington.”
Darkness clouded Christian’s features. “Why? Going after the Navy when he knows his recapture is top priority doesn’t line up. It’s not smart.”
“Well, this is the lead I’ve been waiting for. Now I know where to sail. The rest of my men will arrive tomorrow. We’ll be ready to leave by dawn the next morning.”
“There were survivors.” Christian lowered the page and stared into space, his eyes flitting back and forth as his mind worked. “Is he getting sloppy in desperation, or was there something on that ship worth the risk of revealing himself?”
“Every move he makes is precisely calculated. Desperate is not part of his vocabulary.” Samantha set her hand on her husband’s forearm. “He’s not likely to be anywhere near Wilmington by the time you get there, Isaac.”
He nodded. “I know. But hopefully we can find out where he’s headed next.”
“I’m going with you.” Christian’s voice came calm and steady from his spot at the head of the table.
Isaac jerked his gaze up. “You know I can’t take you on as part of my crew.”
Christian shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be taking my own ship.”
Samantha frowned. “Christian, I don’t think it’s wise—”
“I want to interview the survivors. If I can find out what he was after, we may be able to narrow our search.”
Isaac chewed the inside of his cheek. He shouldn’t allow it. If Christian came face to face with his father again, there was no telling what he would do.
As always, his friend seemed to read his mind. “Never mind. I’m going regardless, even if you won’t let me sail alongside you.”