Chapter Twenty-Two
Two days.
Forty eight hours of staring at the closed door of the main cabin.
At least that’s what it felt like. Christian fought the urge to look again.
If she was going to come out, she’d have done so by now.
They’d docked in Savannah over an hour ago and though he’d stretched his duties onboard as long as possible, he couldn’t stay any longer.
With one last glance over his shoulder, he walked down the gangplank.
His boots hit the dock with a dull thud and he scowled. A small crowd had already gathered.
The mayor strode to the front of the group. “Is it true? You rescued Miss Warstein?”
Something clenched hard and heavy in Christian’s gut. If only it were the truth. But he nodded. “She’s safe.”
“Thank heavens!” The portly man turned to the crowd. “Our hero has returned successful!”
A cheer rose and Christian cringed. The hairs on the nape of his neck lifted and he glanced up to find Henry Warstein staring at him with a frown. As much as he didn’t want to speak with the merchant, he’d best get it out of the way. He mumbled his thanks to the mayor and headed over.
“Is she well?”
“She is.” Christian braced for more questions, but they didn’t come.
He watched Warstein’s face as the pirate crew began to disembark. No flicker of recognition. So he didn’t know. Or if he did, he hid it well.
“And Thorne?”
Christian’s entire body stiffened. “He gave us a lot of trouble, but he escaped.”
The older man stroked his mustache. “I’m in your debt, Lieutenant.”
But he wasn’t. Christian’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t honorable, taking credit. But what choice did he have?
Warstein held up a sack. “May I go aboard? I have some things for her to change into.”
Christian waved toward the gangplank. As the merchant made his way up, Isaac approached. “How about we head to the tavern? I have a feeling a good drink will do you well.”
God. He wanted to.
Drowning his memories of the last week into oblivion would be amazing. Yet . . .
The tavern meant more than drinking away everything that had happened. It meant tavern wenches. Ones who would offer him a hero’s welcome. One his men would expect him to take. And not partaking . . .
Well, that meant he’d have to come face to face with feelings he wasn’t ready to admit. Feelings he couldn’t have.
“Not tonight. I’m exhausted. Going home sounds nice for a change.”
Isaac arched one brow, just enough to hint he’d read the lie. But he didn’t push the issue.
“Officer?”
His friend straightened.
“Make sure the men keep quiet about the identity of the men on board.”
“Of course. And your lady pirate?”
“Stop calling her that.”
Isaac squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry. The crew knows better than to spread any gossip. They won’t say anything.”
Christian pressed his hand to his temple. They’d better. He tread along a dangerous line of treason by not turning the pirates in. It would only take one man, one slip of speech, to bring discipline down on them all.
He climbed up the bank and found a delivery driver with an empty wagon. “I’ll pay you a dollar to take me home.”
The man’s eyes widened at the exorbitant sum and motioned to the bench next to him with a grin.
A few moments later, they turned away from the dock.
Christian gave the man his directions and settled into the uncomfortable seat.
Each bump of the road intensified the ache behind his temples.
Thank God he’d found a place close to the city.
When they pulled up his drive, he ran inside to retrieve the man’s fare. His housekeeper met him as soon as he opened the door.
“You have a visitor.”
He blinked at her.
She motioned toward his study and lowered her voice. “He’s not a friendly sort. Told him you might not be home for days and he barged right in. Said you’d be home shortly. It’s been an hour at least.”
Christian’s gaze flew to the cracked door. “Did he give you a name?”
She shook her head.
A visitor was the last thing he needed right now. He sighed. “Thank you. Bring the gentleman outside a dollar and draw me a bath.”
He cracked his knuckles and strode to the study. Whoever it was, they would have to come back another time. Nudging the door, he opened his mouth to say just that.
The man stood with his back to him, broad shoulders rising and falling with each slow breath as he stared at the painting on the wall. He didn’t turn.
He didn’t have to.
Christian’s hand grasped the empty space at his hip. Damnation. He didn’t even have a knife on his person.
“What are you doing here?” He ground the words out.
Thorne nodded toward the portrait. “I suggest never falling in love.”
“It’s a little late for fatherly advice. And forgive me if I’m disinclined to take it.”
His father pivoted. “Too late for advice? Or too late to stop you from falling in love?” A smirk twisted across his lips. “I saw the way you and that fiery redhead looked at each other.”
Christian ground his teeth together. “I find it hard to believe you risked breaking into my house just to tell me this.”
“Love will make you do wild things.” Thorne’s eyes glazed over. “I would have sailed to the end of the world for her. Have sailed to the end of the world.”
Christian’s hands curled into fists. “All for what? You’ve gained nothing.”
His father met his gaze and took a step toward him. “You’re wrong. Revenge, my boy. I take it when I can. Draw every last bit of it out of a man’s soul.”
The pounding in Christian’s head intensified.
Thorne stepped to the window and picked up a navy issued cocked hat. He ran his hands over the soft felt. “They kidnapped her because of my position in the navy. Used her to get to me.”
The captain swiveled to face the portrait once more. “Your mother was rescued.”
Christian nearly dropped to his knees. “I was never told anything of the sort.”
His father’s shoulders went stiff. “She never made it back to shore with her rescuers.”
The room spun around Christian and he reached out for the back of a chair for support. “What happened?”
“The men that took her, they did terrible things to her. Things no woman should endure. She couldn’t bear to face me afterward.” His father’s voice cracked. “She threw herself into the sea.”
When he turned to Christian, his eyes were rimmed with red. “I wouldn’t have cared. I would have stayed by her side while she healed.”
Christian’s vision blurred.
“I spent years hunting down all the pirates and smugglers I could. With every slit throat, I wondered if I had got the right man, the right crew.” His face hardened. “Until I learned she was never taken by pirates in the first place. That I had been deceived in the worst way.”
Pain exploded through Christian’s palms as his nails bit into soft flesh. “I don’t understand.”
“You never will.” Thorne flipped the hat he still held and set it back. “Unless . . .”
Silence stretched between them.
“Unless you join me. Join me and I will tell you everything.”
Gone were the lines of grief. Gone was the moment of vulnerability. Gone was the brief glimpse of the father he once knew.
Heat rushed up the back of Christian’s throat to mingle with the aching hurt already there. “How dare you? You tried to kill me less than a week ago and now you come to my home with such a ludicrous proposition?”
A hollow laugh rang across the room. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”
“No thanks to you.” Christian spat the words out and took a long stride toward his father. “Get out. Get out of my house. Out of my life. I swear, if I ever see you again, I will arrest you on the spot.”
His father stood still for a long moment before dipping into a mocking bow.
“So be it.”
*
The chair at Christian’s desk creaked when he sank into it. His housekeeper knocked on the door a few moments later with a tray of coffee. Once she set it down, he waved her out and poured it himself.
Swirling the obsidian liquid, he stared at the invitation in front of him. A party. In his honor. The light in the room began to fade, replaced with the warm colors of the sunset, and he sighed. Well past time to leave. Yet he stayed in place, sipping his coffee.
She would be there.
He’d only seen her twice the rest of the trip back to Savannah. Both mornings, she’d emerged in the soft grey of dawn and climbed up to the crow’s nest. She stayed up there until the sunrise washed over her, setting her hair aflame in the warm light. The prettiest damn sight he’d ever seen.
If only he’d worked up the nerve to apologize.
She’s not marrying material. Damn his foolish mouth. Because it had been a lie. A lie to himself. She was infinitely marriageable.
If she weren’t a pirate. But she was. Which meant he needed to bury those feelings once and for all.
And now, the governor was hosting a ball at Montelet’s estate to celebrate his daring rescue of Miss Warstein. He snorted. Daring, indeed. He’d blundered his way through the entire mission.
With a groan, he stood and set his half-empty cup down. He’d never dreaded a party so much. His eyes strayed to his whiskey cabinet, but he forced himself to walk out and to the front door. Showing up foxed to his own celebration could only make things worse.
His gelding pawed at the drive where his groom held him. Christian took the reins and the man backed up with a look of relief. Probably had begun to wonder if he’d ever show up.
Christian ran a steadying hand down his mount’s neck. When the bay settled, he lifted a foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle.
“There now. Let’s be on our way.”
Carriages lined the drive at Montelet’s estate and he groaned again. Even with such short notice, the place was packed. It had been less than a week since they’d returned and he’d half-hoped for a small affair.
He should have known. Nothing was ever small when it came to Governor Milledge. His lips pushed together. Last time he was here, he’d failed his mission. Now, he had to face Red.
He wasn’t sure which was worse.