Chapter Fifteen #2
A pirate wouldn’t own such a nice piece unless it was stolen or plundered. He wagered it had once belonged to someone very wealthy. He looked at the address on the parchment again, and his pulse quickened. If whatever Thorne was looking for was there, he could finally piece everything together.
“I need to go. The quicker I can get to Norfolk, the better chance I have at getting answers before Thorne.”
“Let me come with you.” Her words came out soft yet determined.
“Absolutely not. Thorne will be there. He could come after us at any time.”
Her hand closed around the key and she tucked it back beneath her neckline. “What’s the difference? Samantha and Christian will be right behind us. On a smaller ship. Isn’t the Tempest the safest place to be if Thorne attacks?”
“The Siren is faster and could get away from an attack.”
Her lips twisted into a half-smile. “No offense, Lieutenant, but I don’t think your friend would leave you behind.”
She was right.
Didn’t matter.
“Everyone seems to keep forgetting that this is a military mission. I can’t just take on civilians and write it off. I answer for every action I take, every decision I make, Miss Montclair.
Her smile widened and a thread of unease wound through him. “Precisely. But, at this point, I’m no longer a civilian, am I?”
He needed to walk away from this conversation. Take the key. Leave her here. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m an informant.”
He blinked.
“Anyway, I’m not giving you the key unless you take me.” She took a step back as if to prove her point.
“I could order you to hand it over.”
Her smile didn’t waver. “But, you won’t.”
He wouldn’t. Damn it.
He could go without it. Anything locked with a key could be opened if one had the right tools. But time could be of the essence, especially if Thorne was after the same thing.
A groan rumbled in the back of his throat. “One day. And when Christian and Samantha catch up, you go back to their ship.”
She nodded.
“Very well.” He pressed two fingers against his temple. “Go get your things. Quickly.”
*
Icy raindrops pelted Isaac’s face. “Hold fast!” The wind ripped his shouted orders from his throat and he cursed, tightening his hands on the wheel as the Tempest shuddered down a swell, a foaming wall of water crashing over the deck.
The storm had come upon them not long after they left. At first, a mild nuisance, it had built into a menacing force over the last hour. One he didn’t have time for. He fought the rudder with a growl as the wind threatened to blow them off course. The aggravations on this trip continued to build.
Silas had barely spoken to him since they left, making his disapproval of their newest passenger clear. “Ain’t right,” he’d said.
For the last few hours, he’d had plenty of time to make excuses for why he’d let her come. Knowing her, she’d have tried to stowaway a third time. So, he was just trying to save himself the frustration of dealing with that. Had nothing to do with their almost kiss earlier.
Damn Thorne for interrupting.
He glanced down to the main hatch, mulling what exactly the blasted pirate was after now.
Last time, it was a map to a buried treasure.
And Miss Montclair hadn’t been wrong. Her key had certainly caught the pirate’s attention.
Enough so that he’d almost gotten the jump on Thorne while he examined it.
But why hadn’t Thorne taken it? Christian had taught him there was no such thing as coincidence. A heavy weight shifted in his gut, one that had been there since they set sail. Water streamed into his eyes and he swiped it away, staring into the gnashing waves ahead of them.
He’d had enough interaction with Thorne to know that what the pirate wanted, he would get. One way or another. If he wanted the key, or more importantly, whatever the key unlocked, he would stop at nothing to get it.
A bolt of lightning struck nearby, and Isaac flinched at the blast of thunder. He could use her as bait to draw the pirate out. The thought sent his stomach roiling. No. He shook it away. Too risky. Thorne didn’t play by the rules and would kill an innocent without blinking.
It had been a foolish move to bring her.
If Thorne found out she was with him, he would absolutely use her against him.
He shuddered as the memory of how the pirate had nearly killed Samantha to get to Christian flashed through his mind.
With a swallow, he returned his attention to maneuvering the Tempest.
She thought she’d be safest here on this ship. But the truth was, Thorne had already proven he wasn’t keen on killing his son. Which meant she would have been infinitely safer on board the Siren. His shoulders tensed as another rumble of thunder vibrated through the ship.
He now had two jobs. Capture Thorne. And protect Miss Montclair.
His pulse quickened when he closed his eyes and saw her parted lips, smelled the ghost of her jasmine scent.
Ever since her charade back at the smuggler’s den, he couldn’t stop thinking of her.
Mostly of how her bottom felt in his lap.
But also, her reckless kiss. Even now, his body stirred to attention.
“Lieutenant?”
He snapped his eyes open. Silas stood in front of him. “You should take a break. The wind is shifting. Worst of the storm has passed.”
Isaac stared out over the water, and the next several flashes of lightning confirmed his first officer’s observation, the rolls of thunder taking slightly longer to reach them. He nodded and let his first officer take the wheel.
“I’m going to change into something drier.”
“Best check on your guest as well.”
Again, Isaac’s gaze drifted to the hatch and a thread of guilt bubbled up. He’d meant to go down and reassure her before the storm hit its worst, but it had grown so fast, he hadn’t wanted to risk leaving the helm.
A lamp hung near the main hatch and he took it on his way to his cabin.
Once below deck, the movement seemed worse, and he ran one hand along the deck above to steady himself.
It was no coincidence a captain’s quarters always rested in the aft portion of a ship where there was the most stability.
Hopefully, it hadn’t been as bad in there.
At his door, he knocked. No answer. “Miss Montclair, I’m coming in.”
When the Tempest crested a wave, he opened the door and stepped inside the dark room. A few things laid strewn across the floor, casualties of the waves. He swept the lantern in front of him as he took in the rest of the cabin. A form huddled on his bed and he stepped forward.
“Are you alright?” He lifted the lantern, the flickering light reflecting off her pale face.
His breath caught. She’d changed into nothing but a shift, rumpled and disheveled from the storm.
The thin fabric clung to her curves, the swell of her breasts pressing softly against the material.
One shoulder had slipped free, exposing smooth skin beneath.
He quickly averted his gaze, heat creeping up his neck. He should turn around. Leave her. Yet the storm howled outside, the walls of the cabin creaking and groaning. She slumped against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest. He couldn’t just walk away. Couldn’t leave her to her fears.
“Miss Montclair?”
She gave a barely perceptible nod, her silence almost as loud as the storm outside.
“The peak of the storm is over, it will get better from here on.”
Another quick nod.
He crossed the room to his wardrobe, and opened the door, trying to recall his first storm at sea.
He’d been keen to show his bravery and had performed his tasks with enthusiasm.
But no amount of bravado had prepared him for the way the ship had bucked and groaned with each plunge down a wave or the deafening crash of water against the bow.
Each roar of wind in the sails had sent his heart plummeting, a knot of fear twisting deep in his chest.
Over the years, he had come to understand the rhythm of a ship in stormy weather, to trust the timbers beneath his feet.
A well-built vessel reacted to the storm’s rage—absorbed its power.
Now, when the winds howled and the waves rose, he faced the fury with the same steady resolve as he did the calm.
He cleared his throat. “I know it seems frightening, but I promise, all will be well.” Water dripped from his sodden clothing as he collected a new shirt and coat. “You should try to get some rest.”
She pulled her knees closer to her chest, still mute, but gave him one more nod.
He sighed. Not much he could do. She’d have to weather the storm and make it out on the other side before she realized it wasn’t so bad.
With a reassuring smile, he turned to the door.
He almost reached it before she finally spoke, her soft words barely reaching him.
“Don’t leave me.”