Chapter Thirteen
Samantha glanced at Christian. When he’d come back last night, he’d paced his cell for hours. She’d sat in silence, waiting for him to calm down enough to speak. But she’d fallen asleep before then.
He leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. Was he sleeping? The ribbon tying his queue had come loose and a wave of hair obscured his cheek. A dark scab covered the cut above his brow. As if alerted to her thoughts, his eyes opened and she jerked upright.
He watched her for a long minute before stretching. “What are you thinking?’
How handsome you are.
She swallowed. “That we only have a day and a half at the most before we reach Tortuga.”
“You’ll be safe. He thinks your uncle is bringing the map. He won’t risk harming you.”
“For how long? Eventually, he’ll realize no one is coming.”
Christian stared at her with those all-seeing eyes and her scalp prickled.
Would he recognize her? Her hand lifted to push a mess of curls over her shoulder. If only she could braid it. But she couldn’t risk it. Not with how perceptive he was. With a sigh, she wiped at her sweat-dampened neck.
“For a timid wallflower, you’re handling this all quite well.”
The term sent a barb of heat through her. “Just because I choose not to socialize doesn’t mean I’m incapable of surviving a crisis.”
He blinked at her sharp retort and flashed her a rueful smile. “Clearly I’ve been searching for competent partners in all the wrong places.”
She rolled her eyes. Flirting? In a filthy brig. How romantic. Her blue dress had gone grey in places and the wrinkles made her skirts stick to her legs in the most unsightly way. Still, she couldn’t help holding his intense gaze.
“Surely you have more women to choose from than you could ever know what to do with.”
His lips curved. “I suppose.”
Something cold flashed through Samantha’s belly and she blinked. Jealousy? She nearly laughed. She had no right to be jealous.
“Even with my. . . hordes of women, I can’t stand most of them.”
This conversation was entirely inappropriate. But she couldn’t help asking.
“Why? Don’t you want to marry?”
He shrugged. “They want the idea of me. The brave lieutenant. But they don’t want the reality. The fact that I spend more time at sea than at home would drive them away eventually. Why would I want that?”
“What if you found a woman who wanted to make her home at sea with you?” She flushed and dropped her gaze to the floor.
Christian snorted. “Good luck finding a woman like that. Besides, even if she existed, the navy wouldn’t allow it.”
The navy. What was she doing? Even if he said yes, she would never be a consideration. At the end of the day, Christian remained her enemy, and she’d do well to remember it.
“What about you, Miss Warstein? Why aren’t you married? Don’t tell me a woman as beautiful as you hasn’t had offers.”
“Believe it or not, Lieutenant, not every young woman dreams of leaping into the arms of the first man who asks for her hand.”
“What about the second or third?”
She winced. He would never understand. Besides, what could she tell him? Because I want to be a pirate, to sail the seas with a ship under my command, and no man would accept that. She bit back a laugh. Imagined his reaction. Any man’s reaction. No, marriage was not for her.
But deep inside, a dull ache started. The same one she got when Abigail tried her silly close-your-eyes trick. She wrapped her arms around her legs. He’d shown her what it could be like between two people. For one brief, glorious, hour she’d experienced passion. And now she wanted more.
Damn him.
She searched for a generic answer. “I haven’t found the right man.”
“Ah. Say no more.” The words dripped with male knowledge.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re one of those girls who believe in true love. You’re waiting for a knight in shining armor to come sweep you off your feet.”
She choked. She couldn’t help it. While her shoulders heaved, she bent, gasping for breath. When she finally regained her composure, she straightened. Christian stared at her with wide eyes.
“Oh, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I don’t harbor such fanciful notions. Love is for fools.” He blinked and she cleared her throat. “I meant, I haven’t found a man willing to give me freedom. One who won’t keep me under his thumb.”
His head tilted to the side. “You’re looking for a spineless fool then? One who will bow to your every whim and never stand up to you.”
“Yes. No.” She frowned. Why did he make it sound so unappealing?
He looked her up and down with a sad smile. “No wonder you’re not married.”
She bristled. The nerve. “You, sir, are incredibly rude.”
He winked. “I never claimed otherwise.”
A flush spread over her cheeks. Christian was teasing her.
“We need to get out of here.” He pushed to his feet with a grunt and examined the lock. “Do you have any hairpins?
Did it look like she did? She pushed the unruly locks out of her face for the hundredth time. “They took them all.”
Christian turned a slow circle around the brig and stopped when he faced her. “Your bucket.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Mine doesn’t have a handle, but yours does. Bring it here.”
He was right. How had she not noticed the bent half-circle of wire? She scrambled over to the bucket and gingerly began working on it. No way she was handing him her unmentionables.
The tip of the wire bit into her finger and she let out a little cry.
“Miss Warstein, for goodness’ sake, bring it here.”
“No.” The word came out strangled.
“Are you embarrassed?”
“Of course I am!”
His chuckle sent a wave of mortification through her. “You should try living on a ship full time. Without the basic necessities you enjoy onshore, we learn very quickly not to be shy about bodily functions.”
Heat rose all the way to her ears. Clearly, his sailors behaved differently than her own. Mayhap her pirates could teach him a thing or two.
She stiffened. “I’ll do it.”
Throwing her hair over her shoulder, she bent above the bucket and worked her finger beneath the wire once more.
Each end threaded several times around two holes drilled in the sides of the bucket.
After carefully working one end of the wire through its hole to loosen it, the rest of it unwound with less trouble.
She repeated the steps on the other side.
“Got it!” She waved it in the air. Though she could pick the lock herself, the lieutenant would never expect her to know how to, so she passed the wire over to him.
He bent it and slid one end into the keyhole. His face settled into hard lines of concentration and she had to bite her lip as he twisted the wire the wrong way. She could have had the lock picked by now. Instead of saying something, she focused on the way his clenched teeth squared his jawline.
When a clink echoed through the room, she let out the appropriate ego-inflating gasp. He grinned up at her and swung the cell door open. A moment later, he worked on hers. This time, he picked the lock correctly and moments later it clicked open.
Christian met her gaze. “See? All hope is not lost.”
He tugged her door open and she couldn’t help her smile. After nearly three days of being locked up, her heart gave a little skip as she stepped past the threshold. Still . . . she reached out and touched Christian’s shoulder as he turned away.
“What’s the plan? It’s midday, surely you don’t expect to get out of here unnoticed?” Even if they did, with a full day of sailing before Tortuga, there would be nowhere to go. And plenty of sharks.
Christian grabbed hold of the ladder. “If I can free my men, we can take the ship.”
Samantha’s stomach churned. “That’s a terrible plan.”
He twisted and peered down at her. “Our best bet is to take them by surprise when they least expect it.”
She swallowed and crossed to the ladder while he climbed. “Have you seen his crew? I’m not sure they are capable of being taken by surprise.”
“No one is invincible. Now, be quiet and get ready to follow me.”
Samantha wrung her hands together as the lieutenant set his palms against the hatch. This wouldn’t end well. The muscles in his arms bunched and he pressed up.
Nothing happened.
He frowned and tried again. It moved up a fraction and a chain jingled. A soft curse came from above her and Christian dropped his arms. “It’s locked.”
Thank God.
She began to take a step back as Christian slid to the floor. Before she could make room for him, he bumped into her. Her foot slid out to correct her balance but tangled in her skirt. With a little gasp, she tumbled backward.
For a moment, the dark room spun around her.
And then, with a jerk, everything went still.
Christian’s hands clamped around her shoulders, sending a million jolts of energy through her.
All she could do was blink up at him in mute silence as she hung suspended between him and the floor.
She couldn’t move if her life depended on it.
Fingers of heat spread from where they touched and gathered in her core. He frowned. Could he feel it?
“My apologies, Miss Warstein.”
He pulled her upright and she stood on wooden legs. Her heart threatened to beat free of her chest as he held her gaze. Back away. But she couldn’t. The ship rolled down a swell and with her momentary loss of coordination, she pitched straight into him.
“Oof!” His chest muffled her exclamation. But the sudden full-body contact did nothing to draw her from her stupor. In fact, her entire body burned like a pile of driftwood lit aflame.
When she tilted her face up, his forest eyes blazed back at her. Was it desire? Or the lantern light? Either way, she stood paralyzed.
“Miss Warstein?” His hands loosened their grip but remained in place.
She didn’t—couldn’t—answer and his fingers splayed behind her back. Surely he could feel the pounding of her heart? Her entire body reverberated with the frantic thumps.
“Are you alright?”