Chapter Twenty-Three
The sticky air outside did little to cool Samantha’s cheeks. She weaved between happy couples until she found a secluded spot at the far end of the verandah. Leaning against the railing, she stared out into the darkness.
She’d known it would be hard tonight. But that was when she expected to stay with Abigail at the wall and hide from Christian. When the governor had called her over, she’d nearly lost the contents of her stomach.
She’d had to touch him, had to feel the frantic beat of his heart. And then, she’d had to dance with him. Her blood still pounded in her ears, her hand still clammy from where he’d gripped it.
“Was it hard?”
She spun to find Christian’s first officer standing in the shadows. “Was what hard?”
He waved his hand toward the open doors where music spilled into the night. “All of it.”
Was it so obvious? If his eyes weren’t so understanding, she’d turn away. She crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw.
Yes.
Being near to Christian had brought all the last week’s events right back to the surface.
And it hurt. Awareness had tingled along her bare arms the moment he’d walked in.
She’d kept her back to him, prolonging the inevitable.
Until Abigail had pointed out how he was staring at her so unfashionably. So she’d looked.
And lost another little piece of her heart.
Isaac nodded as if she’d answered aloud.
“I’ve never seen him so wound up. If it makes you feel better, I think he’s just as miserable as you.”
Her chest tightened as a heavy ache settled between her ribs.
“It’s amazing how much one’s life can change in the blink of an eye.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “All because of one slip”
“Excuse me?”
He met her gaze. “When you nearly stuck him through with your fancy little rapier.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I—”
“You were about to win. I know.”
She blinked.
“I saw you loosen your dagger. Knew you were up to something.”
“Why didn’t you warn him?”
“It would have done him good if you had won.” He let out a soft laugh and brushed at something on his sleeve. “The question is, do you wish you had?”
He bowed and walked away.
Tears pricked at her eyes.
If she had won, she’d have gotten her immunity. Christian would be none the wiser to her identity. And her heart would be whole.
Still . . . she lifted her hand and brushed her thumb across her lips. He’d shown her passion. Passion she’d enjoyed every minute of.
“Miss Warstein, a word please.”
His voice rumbled across her, and she pressed her eyes closed.
Why?
Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away.
The rustle of a boot on the smooth stone made her fingers clench together. A moment later, his scent washed over her, the soft sandalwood notes threatening to bring back memories.
“Don’t make me talk to your back.”
A little burst of warmth rippled across her skin and she spun, nearly bumping into him.
“Or what?” She moved to the side, but he copied the movement to trap her in place.
He stood rigid, hands behind his back and her mouth went dry. The double row of gold buttons on his navy uniform jacket shone in the night. No more stubble and his hair was tied back without a single errant curl peeking from beneath his hat. Every bit the admirable pirate hunter.
“I owe you an apology.”
Her gaze snapped to his. In the darkness the muted green depths hid his emotions.
“For what?”
“For what I said on the ship.”
She’s not marrying material.
God, how often had she heard that said of her? It had never hurt her before. So why had it sliced right through her soul when he said it?
She took a shaky breath and smoothed her skirts. Foolish to be upset. After all, he had been right.
Heat flushed through her. “Lieutenant, I’m no naive girl. I never had, nor do I hold, any aspirations to win your heart. Besides . . .” She forced a thin smile. “We would never suit.”
She held his gaze while silence wove around them, muting the sounds from the ballroom.
“Nevertheless, I apologize.” He fidgeted with his hat. “I wish things could be different.”
So do I.
“Apology accepted. Now, if that’s all, I’ll take my leave.” She took a step forward, but he didn’t budge.
“No. That’s not all.”
Great.
“I need your word that you’ll stop pirating.”
Her teeth ground together. “You have no authority over me.”
He somehow straightened even more, his face all hard angles. “You forget who I am.”
His hand slipped to his jacket and he lifted something from his pocket. Metal glinted in the light from the nearest torch.
A key.
“This belongs to a set of shackles.” He dropped it back in place. “I could arrest you. Here. Now.”
“But you won’t.” Still, her heart dropped at the stark reminder of his job. Why she needed to stay away from him.
He stared hard at her. “I don’t want to. But if you leave me no choice, I will do what my position requires of me.”
She shifted on her feet.
“I’m giving you a chance, Red. A chance to turn your life around. To start over.”
“No.”
His fists bunched at his sides. “I have more men. More ships on the way. This little resurgence piracy has seen is over. I will finish what I started.”
Her toes curled in her slippers. He would too. She didn’t doubt it. Everything her family had worked toward, all of her dreams. He would crush them.
How dare he?
A bitter taste filled her mouth as the urge to put distance between them tugged at her legs. Tension radiated up her arms and she glanced down to where her hands had curled into tight fists.
“I will give you my word that you’ll never see my ships again.” It was the best she could offer—after all, it wasn’t like she’d be seeking him out. She certainly wasn’t going to give him what he wanted.
The frown on his face deepened. “That’s not enough.”
She shrugged. “So be it.”
“Red, this isn’t a game.”
This time, anger flashed hot and quick. “It never was.”
He took a slow breath. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”
Ha. Only one way to make things easier. Get him away from her. Out of her life for good. So she threw his words back at him. “You forget who I am.”
Christian lifted a dark brow and she leaned in, her lips nearly brushing his ear. “Your enemy.”
He stiffened and she drew back, took one last breath of clove and sandalwood, and walked away.
Once inside the warm light of the ballroom, Abigail pounced, grabbing her arm.
“Did he kiss you? Tell me he kissed you!”
Samantha jerked her arm free and swallowed against the lump in her throat. “No.”
“He stood awfully close.”
Good lord, had everyone watched their little encounter?
Abigail sighed. “It’s so romantic. Him saving you. And the way he looked at you while you danced, I thought he might start a fire.”
Samantha rubbed her arms. “Don’t be silly.”
Her friend pulled her to their familiar spot by the wall. “What if he’s in love with you, Samantha?”
She laughed. It was the only thing she could do. The lieutenant, in love with her? Ha. Definitely not after their little altercation.
“I hate to disappoint you, but no.”
Abigail stared at the door with wistful eyes. He must have walked back in. Samantha refused to look.
“What was it like?”
An ache had begun behind her eyes. “What was what like?”
“When he rescued you. Was he terribly brave like everyone is saying?”
Samantha scanned the crowd for her uncle. Surely they could leave, now that the governor’s little publicity stunt was over. “Sure.”
Abigail let out a huff. “Sure? That’s all you can say? The most dashing man in Savannah rescued you and all you can say is ‘sure’?”
Something hardened inside Samantha as she spun back to her friend. “I was locked in a brig, in a dirty cell with nothing but a bucket to relieve myself. I didn’t witness any of it. There was nothing dashing or brave about it. Men died.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “I—I . . .”
Samantha pressed her fingers to her temple. Abigail didn’t deserve her frustration.
“I’m sorry. My head hurts something fierce. I need to find my uncle.”
She turned and pushed into the throngs of dancers. Uncle Henry stood near the refreshment table and frowned when she approached. “Are you alright, dear?”
Her teeth clenched together as she fought tears. She’d been forced to endure Christian’s company, quarreled with her best friend. No. She was not alright.
“Can we go home?”
His frown morphed into a look of concern and he glanced past her to the dance floor. For a moment, his gaze hardened. Then he nodded and offered his arm.
As they made their way toward the door, the music wound down and the governor cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, upstanding citizens of Savannah . . .”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’ve just received some wonderful news. As you know, our beloved Lieutenant Thompson . . .”
Whatever the governor had to say about the beloved lieutenant, she had no desire to hear. She tugged her uncle’s arm. But he slowed and turned his attention to the front of the room. Blast it.
“Has been instrumental in the national campaign against piracy. I’ve just received word that ships and extra men have arrived from Washington.
President Jefferson has directed the lieutenant to focus all his attention on capturing the two most notorious pirates out there, Captains Thorne and Remington.
Soon, the dastardly criminals will meet their fate and the waters will be safe again. ”
Her uncle stiffened, then pulled her toward the door. Her throat burned as the crowd applauded. All the more reason to stay away from him. For good.
As they swept outside, the hairs on her neck lifted. She balled her hands into fists. No looking back. But she couldn’t stop her head, the quick glance behind her.
His eyes glinted in the light. Dangerous. Predatory. For a split second, they were the only two in the room, two adversaries staring each other down. A chill ran up her spine.
Enemies.
“Samantha?” Her uncle’s voice broke the spell and she lifted her chin and turned into the night.