Chapter Twenty #2
With a swallow, she took hold of one smooth rung.
Pulling herself up, she began to climb, the ladder swaying with the ship.
The breeze whipped her skirts around her legs, threatening to get her caught up in the ropes, and as she yanked them free, a loud whistle came from below her.
Heat shot up her cheeks when she looked down.
Burke stood directly below her. Gritting her teeth, she climbed faster, putting as much space between her and him as she could.
Worn planks shifted with the faint roll of the sea under Josephine’s feet when she clambered over the railing.
She forced her chin up, schooling her expression as her eyes darted over the crew on deck.
A man crouched by a coil of rope, running a whetstone over the blade of his dagger with slow, deliberate strokes.
The edge gleamed sharp in the sunlight as he stared at her, unblinking.
With a shiver, she turned away. Nearby, two pirates leaned against the rail, speaking low in a guttural dialect.
One spat over the side, then glanced her way, his mouth curling into a leering grin showcasing a row of broken teeth.
The acrid scent of gunpowder and oiled ropes filled her nose.
An eerie silence wrapped around her, sending a thread of dread curling in her belly.
The quiet glances, the slow, measured movements.
No bawdy laughter or drunken shouting, only the faint creak of the hull and the rasp of blades being honed. They were all waiting.
She swallowed, her throat heavy and thick. The measured click of boots came from the quarterdeck behind her and her heart began beating like a caged bird.
Breathe.
But she couldn’t.
Her eyes pressed closed as the footsteps descended the stairs and crossed the deck in a slow, deliberate percussion.
“Miss Montclair. What an unexpected surprise.”
The smooth baritone of his voice echoed across the ship, the sudden sound making her flinch. Josephine’s hands clenched into fists and she turned to face the dreaded Captain Thorne.
He wore a dark navy frock coat, the wool fabric cut to perfection, and his bicorn hat looked new.
A well-trimmed beard, shot through with silver curved around his jaw.
In the sunlight, he looked… normal. Until she dared gaze into his eyes.
She shivered as he stared at her, unblinking.
In the garden, the shadows had hidden the true depth of them.
Forest green, a color some might call striking.
Not on him. The green faded into darkness without depth, sharp as shattered glass. No warmth, no mercy.
In an instant, those eyes flayed her, stripping away what little courage she had. She swallowed and dropped her gaze to his hands, where several gold rings glinted in the sun.
“Well, men? I certainly hope you brought more than a pretty piece to feast our eyes upon.” At his dry words, the giant handed him the box and key.
Thorne held it to his chest. “Well done.” His gaze swiveled to Josephine and his eyes burned into her. “Such commendable effort, Miss Montclair. One might almost think you enjoyed fetching it for me.” A cold smile tugged at his mouth. “Even brought me the key, how thoughtful.”
Her eyes narrowed as he flipped it between his fingers.
“Weigh the anchor and make for open water.” He stood still as the crew jumped into action. As men climbed the rigging, he turned to Josephine. “Follow me.”
She stood frozen as he strode toward the main cabin doors, her heart pounding within her ribs. He paused halfway there. “Unless, of course, you prefer to stay out here with my men?”
Burke caught her gaze, his hungry eyes sending a chill up her spine. With a swallow, she hurried after the captain.
He opened his door and waved her into the shadows. A heavy pressure closed around her chest as she stepped inside and he followed, the door closing with a soft click. Her breaths came fast, each one bringing notes of cedarwood and leather. When her eyes adjusted, she blinked.
The spacious cabin was neat as a pin, not a single item out of place.
A heavy oak desk sat bolted to the floor, its surface clear except for a logbook and a single feather quill and inkpot.
Not a single wrinkle marred the sheets on his bed, folded with military precision.
Above it, a single cutlass gleamed from a rack—identical to the one at his side.
He pointed to the ornately carved chair at the desk. “Sit.”
She hurried over as he crossed to the stern windows and positioned the box into a ray of sunlight.
“I’ve been looking for you.” A hard glint filled his eyes as he inserted the key and turned it.
Instead of opening it, he ran a hand over the lid, his fingers skimming it reverently.
Tension filled the air, thick and oppressive as he stared hard at the box.
Though she already knew the contents, Josephine couldn’t help holding her breath as he lifted the lid and pulled the stack of papers free.
His hand shook, his breaths coming sharp and quick.
After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the top sheet. As he scanned the words there, his knuckles went white, his jaw tightening.
“No.” The word came out in a whisper, laced with disbelief.
A crackle filled the room as the sheet crumpled in his hand and his legs buckled, the box clattering to the side.
The thud of his knees hitting the floor reverberated through Josephine’s feet.
She sat rigid in her seat as his forehead dropped to the floor.
He didn’t make another sound—just knelt there, his body hunched.
Broad shoulders rose and fell, a tremor rocking through him.
For a brief moment, her fear dissipated, replaced with… sympathy? She shook her head. Never. Not for him.
After a long moment, he lifted his face, eyes wild and nostrils flared.
Gone was the raw vulnerability that had just laid him bare, replaced with a fury so sharp it seemed to split the air.
Whatever sorrow cracked him moments before had passed.
He pushed to his feet and stalked to his shelf, rummaging through the stack of tubes there and grabbed one with a snarl.
She shrank back in her chair as he approached.
He yanked a navigational map free, smashing it to his desk hard enough to send the bottle of ink tumbling to the floor.
The delicate glass shattered, thick ebony fluid splattering outwards. He ignored it, smoothing the map flat.
With jaw clenched, muscles pulsating with barely leashed fury, his eyes raked over the map. “Looks like we’re sailing back to Savannah.”